Okay, trivia lovers, who first coined the phrase, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself"? Was it Great Britain's Winston Churchill, or our own President Franklin D. Roosevelt?
While you ponder that question (don't Google it, cheaters), let's talk a bit about fear, you and I. Let's talk about fear and dentists and going to the doctor.
My favorite author, the late, great Lewis Grizzard, once wrote of fear, namely his fear of flying, revenge-minded ex-wives, and going to the dentist.
I don't share Lewie's fear of aircraft (it's fiery car crashes that keep me up at night), or his concern over ex-wives (it's usually the she devil that you are currently married to that does you in), but the great humorist and I share a common dread of the dentist.
What is it with the dentist that frightens me? Is it the needles, the pliers, the drills, or the medieval tools of torture they use, all in the name of dental health? The answer is yes, yes, yes, and yes.
The dentist may be the only profession where one gets paid to inflict fear, pain, and human suffering. That, and maybe professional wrestling. But in their defense they have nice magazines in the waiting room. It's just a shame you never get to stay in the waiting area long enough to enjoy them.
"That's okay, ma'am, you can let the next person go," I usually tell the lady when she comes to get me. "I am busy reading this fascinating article on carnivorous houseplants in Good Housekeeping. Come back and get me later."
Despite this fear, I really love my current dentist (yes, I hope he reads this and takes pity on me next time). He's a great guy, and his staff is nice and friendly, so it's not his fault. I blame my parents.
That's right. They're the ones who passed down the hereditary dental ailments and receding hairlines that plague me and both of my brothers.
Those old buzzards are the ones who first sent me to the dentist as a child, a dentist who I later learned did his internship in a Nazi prisoner of war camp.
In fact, I blame them for all my neurotic fears and phobias. As a small child growing up, fear was like a faithful companion that came over every day and often spent the night, no doubt with my parent's permission.
I wasn't a wimpy child, by any means, but at an early age I learned to fear Momma's wooden spoon, Daddy's belt, and all the assorted critters that lived on a farm - from snakes and spiders and large dogs to that mean old sow who didn't like to give piggyback rides and that big mean Black Angus bull named Maggot Face who would chase you around the lot, even if you were just trying to feed him.
Even the roosters and the geese could get mean. There was always something on a farm that would bite you or chase you, the ungrateful critters. I looked forward to butchering day. To this day I still hate taking my kid to the zoo.
I also picked up a fear of the dark from being forced to spend too many nights with Granny. Those old folks didn't believe in burning a night light, not even for a kid who wore Sesame Street pajamas.
I later acquired a fear of being lost in the woods (from a childhood spent hunting and getting lost in the woods). Dad, trying to break me out of that sissy phobia and make a man out of me, would put me out in a cornfield far behind the house and make me find my way home. It didn't help and, if anything, it may have lead to my fear of corn on the cob.
Those scary movies they let me stay up to watch taught me all about monsters. To this day I won't look in the mirror and say "Candyman" three times in a row.
But back to the point. In terms of pure terror, monsters pale in comparison to going to the dentist. Just out of curiosity, I asked my dentist (did I mention he's a great guy?) the other day what he was afraid of, what his childhood monsters were, and his answer gave me comfort: the annual visit to the proctologist.
Here I was trying to face my fear head on, and once a year the Doc has to face his fear tail on.
By the way, according to Wikipedia, the man who is first credited with coining the famous fear phrase was Sir Frances Bacon, who in the early 1600s wrote in his "of Tribute" that "Nothing is to be feared but fear itself."
But I wonder if they had dentists back then?