🐊 A Story About Conquering Fear

Later, Gator!

    When I was a kid, I lived in South Florida. It was hot and humid, and it had near-daily thunderstorms. Sometimes these storms came so frequently and dumped rain so fiercely that our backyard would flood so that you could not even see the grass. My dad would always complain about drainage, as dads do. Shortly after such a flood, I could hear frog choruses. Neighborhood kids would meet out in the front yard to play with their water toys. The next day, the streets would be covered in baked earthworms. This was a way of life.

In South Florida, all along the highway, alligators hang out. They sit still as stone, yawning at the sun.
Sometimes they would skitter back into a ditch when our car drove by. As a kid, I would count them whenever we went to the beach, to the airport, or to any place that was a good distance from the house. Once I counted 15! Kids told tales of alligators found wading in grandma's pool. We were pretty close to the Everglades.

I had this recurring dream. It's the only dream I remember having as a kid. I dreamt of the backyard flooding after a thunderstorm, and the backyard was swarming with alligators. This dream evolved as I grew up. We had a mutt named Butch. I still have a photo of me and Butch, both in Christmas hats. I dreamt of Butch barking insistently and going outside only to get clamped, rolled, and devoured. Not only that, but I dreamt of my mom crying out for help from the backyard, and all I could do was watch as she was torn apart. I dreamt of waking from a nap to an empty house and a flooded backyard full of fat, satisfied alligators.

    It got so bad I refused to play with friends in the puddles after the thunderstorms. I didn't even want to go out back in a light rain. One Saturday, my dad sat me down and asked me about it. When I finished, he nodded, said, "Come on," and loaded me up in the car. We went down to an alligator farm in the Everglades. I had never been before, but I did know some kids who went on airboat rides.

We learned all about alligators from a tour guide. He told me how alligators eat their young, which was pretty scary. But he also told me the reason they eat their young is that they're often too lazy to hunt. They prefer staying still. He told me why they're on the side of the road looking ready to snap at you. Just regulating body heat. I learned about the difference between crocodiles and alligators. Crocodiles are more aggressive. Alligators are more passive. Crocodiles have jaws that are meant for hunting, while alligators have shovel-shaped jaws for breaking turtle shells. In a way, if your dreams are going to be haunted by a giant lizard, an alligator is certainly preferable to a crocodile.

    I saw him handle an alligator. He poked at it with a metal rod, and all it did was sidle away and groan. My dad and I ordered some alligator stew and ate it together outside at a picnic table. I didn't want to try it, but my dad insisted. He said, "Come on, little predator. Show those gators you're not afraid!" 

So I took a bite, and it was one of the most delicious things I had ever tasted! More tender than beef, more savory than chicken. My only frame of reference was beef and chicken. I asked if we could take some home and make alligator stew ourselves. 

My dad said, "I'm glad you're feeling better about this, buddy, but all we have is a crock pot."

 

 

Source - Image: ©Storyteller/Æ Firestone