Why do we all live in fear? And don’t deny it … there is fear in all our lives.
Why do we hoard? Fear, that’s why. We’ve all seen those people on the hoarder shows. They’re so funny and pitiful. We enjoy laughing at them. But not so fast, my friends. Do you own a storage shed? Do you rent a unit at a storage facility? Is your attic filled with worthless stuff that you’re never gonna use?
Why do we hold on to all that crap? Fear, that’s why. We are afraid that there is just not enough. And by keeping what is essentially trash, we can live in the contented bliss of having just a little more than our neighbors. Having something material and finite, when something intangible, such as love, would enhance our lives in so many different and wonderful ways.
Why do we give money to an over-bloated military machine when that money could go to feed the hungry? Fear, that’s why. But what is there to fear? The U.S. military is the mightiest in the history of the world. We spend more treasure on defense then Russia, China, England, Germany, France, and all the countries of South America combined. And still it’s not enough?
Why do we elect demagogues who promise to protect us by hurting others that are not like us? Fear, that’s why. We all profess to be loving individuals. But not so much when it comes to our fears.
Why do we walk by a homeless person begging for few coins? Fear, that’s why. God forbid that our hands might touch as we hand over a quarter. He might have a disease. Or perhaps we judge him for his addiction. We are so much better than that wretch, and any contact with that miserable excuse for a man will assuredly diminish us. May he rot in hell for his transgressions.
Why do we shun any discussion of death? Fear, that’s why. We all fear death. But why? We are righteous people. Assuredly, we are all going to heaven. We all want to go to heaven, but not right away, if you don’t mind. Could it be that there is something … a very little something … within our consciousness, within our souls, that tells us we might not be as righteous as we think we are?
Why do I write drivel such as this? Fear, that’s why. Fear I might sober up and have to confront my own fears.
Andrew Joyce left high school at seventeen to hitchhike throughout the US, Canada, and Mexico. He wouldn’t return from his journey until years later when he decided to become a writer. Joyce has written five books. His first novel, Redemption: The Further Adventures of Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, was awarded the Editors’ Choice Award for Best Western of 2013. A subsequent novel, Yellow Hair, received the Book of the Year award from Just Reviews and Best Historical Fiction of 2016 from Colleen’s Book Reviews.
Joyce now lives aboard a boat in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where he is busy working on his next book, tentatively entitled, Mahoney: An American Story.
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Find Andrew’s books on his Amazon Author page, including his latest book:
Bedtime Stories for Grown-Ups is a jumble of genres—seven hundred pages of fiction and non-fiction … some stories included against the author’s better judgment. If he had known that one day they’d be published, he might not have been as honest when describing his past. Here is a tome of true stories about the author’s criminal and misspent youth, historical accounts of the United States when She was young, and tales of imagination encompassing every conceivable variety—all presented as though the author is sitting next to you at a bar and you’re buying the drinks as long as he keeps coming up with captivating stories to hold your interest.
Comprised of 218,000 words, you’ll have plenty to read for the foreseeable future. This is a book to have on your night table, to sample a story each night before extinguishing the lights and drifting off to a restful sleep.
Mr. Joyce sincerely hopes that you will enjoy his stories because, as he has stated, “It took a lot of living to come up with the material for some of them.”