I had dinner at a friend’s house the other night, and he told me as soon as I got out of the car that he was afraid of the falling stock market. Then he said a doctor had suggested taking bone density tests and he was anxious because his bones were too thin, and he might break them down the road. And he said a few minutes later that he was afraid of getting old, and having nothing to do, and that his retirement fund was shrinking and it would last him as long as he had hoped, and in the style to which he was accustomed. And he was concerned, too, about the extreme weather flooding the area, and also about the inability of anyone in Washington to resolve problems or agree on issues. And of the kind of future his children would face in a changing America.

And later, over dessert, he said he was alarmed about the state of the world, about wars, global warming, angry Republicans, terrorism, the decline of the euro, genocide.

He noticed, he said, that I had not responded, and he asked me if I was afraid of things, and of all the bad news.

And I said I was afraid of things, but in a different way.

I said I was afraid that I might have money in my retirement fund (little danger) and then I would start going to doctors, and getting tests, and getting frightened about things that might happen to me in 10 years, and that I might live a long time, and end up in a nursing home in diapers taking pills all day. And I was afraid that I might start watching the news, and then believing that was I saw was an honest and true portrayal of the world. Or that I might start believing the people who said you had to pay attention to politics and vote all the time whether you wanted to or not.

And I was afraid that I would start saying things like “in this economy,” and “at our age,” or speaking in that “oh-things-are-going-to-hell” voice or saying things like “Did you see the story in the New York Times today”  – a mood-breaker if ever there was one – and taking my senior discounts for Dunkin Donuts Coffee (8 cents for a small) and talking at dinner parties about how things were falling apart, and all the good things in life were behind me. And, I said, what I was afraid of, was that if I started doing these things, and actually thinking that the Stock Market had a single thing to do with me or the relative value of anything meaningful in the world, then I would be terrified that nobody would come and shoot me, or that I wouldn’t be able to do it myself.

He looked at me for a long time, and then excused himself to go make a telephone call. I’m not sure I will be invited back. Maybe I should be afraid of dinner parties, also. I think I don’t want to be a sheep,at any age. I think I’m terrified of that.