phobia du jour— from A to Z

I was looking for a word, a good word, to describe a feeling. But instead, I came upon a list that did not even remotely include the word I was looking for. When I printed out the list, it ran 17 pages. It was put together by someone with the unlikely name of Fredd Culbertson, who says he started the list as a lark in 1995, and just can't seem to stop. Now, what's the word for that?

The list, of course, was The Phobia List. The thing that amazed me was that there were not only lots of phobias I had never heard of, but also lots of phobias I could not even imagine. This was a bit heartening, since there were an awful lot of them that sounded like just plain common sense to me, and not phobias at all (phobias being defined as irrational fears).

There is, after all, an evolutionary value to having fears that keep us wary. And yes, I'm aware that it's only an evolutionary advantage if these fears manage to keep us safe long enough to reproduce and get that next generation on the road to further fecundity. I suppose after that we're really on our own.

Well, here are some of my favorites from Fredd Culbertson's Phobia List, from A to Z.


A — The A's were pretty boring to me except for this one. alektorophobia — fear of chickens. And the reason I found this one interesting is that there was only one term for this fear, compared to (for example) the many different terms for fears of erectile dysfunction and cats.


B — There were only 18 entries for the letter B, and they, too, seemed pretty innocuous. Fears of slime, toads, and Bolsheviks and the like.


C — The C's seemed like they would be a bit more promising, with 50 entries. But no, it was just the usual run from sex, cemeteries, constipation and comets.


D — Maybe I should just give up looking for my word, but I've just gotten to D, and I mean, who isn't fearful of diabetes, dentists, and dinner conversations?


E — The most interesting one I found here was ergasiophobia — the fear a surgeon has of operating.


F — There were only 4 F's. Fear of fevers, cats, the French, and the cold.


G — The G's were not bad, although there were still more terms here for fearing the French and cats. But there was also geniophobia — the fear of chins, and that's gotta be worth a good story somewhere.


H — The common theme here was the church, the dead, and creepy crawly things. helminthophobia — fear of being infested with worms. Running along the firmament theme, was hylophobia — the fear of forests. And there were quite a number of entries in this regard.


I — More penile fears, bugs, and doctors.


J — There were only two of these: Fear of the Japanese, and fear of the Jews.


K — Nothing earthshattering here.


L — Well, okay, I misread an entry here: limnophobia — which I thought was a fear of latkes (which sounds reasonable to me). But it turned out it was fear of lakes. Go figure.


M — There were some classics in the M's. Menstruation. Dirt. Mice. And more penile fears. My favorite among the M's however, has got to be metrophobia — the fear or hatred of poetry.


N — Along with the fear of nuclear weapons was something useful: novercaphobia — fear of your step mother. A good one for the fairy tales.


O — Try omphalophobia — the fear of belly buttons (which is actually a long story, as it can refer to the world's umbilicus, which could use some extra protection right about now).


P — There were over a page and a half of P-phobias. And here, the dreaded pentheraphobia makes it's appearance. Fear of the mother-in-law. Hmm. In a few days, that would be me, wouldn't it? Better remember this one.


Q — The letter Q managed to escape the list. No Q phobias at all. Yet.


R — Wrinkles and Russians...


S — A solid page of S's including the two at the top of my list, sociophobia and somniphobia.


T — The T's ran the gamut from tapeworms to theology to Germans.


U — Only 2 phobias here. uranophobia — the fear of heaven, and urophobia — the fear of pissing.


V — Another thematic letter. Fear of beautiful women, clothing, rape, and the step father.


W — That would be for Walloons, of course, and witchcraft, and nothing else. I personally have never had any problem at all with either one.


X — More fear of forests and wooden objects. And curiously, xanthophobia — fear of the color yellow or even the word yellow.


Y — How could there be no phobias for the letter Y?


Z — There were four, and they seemed rather banal.


But what I didn't find was a nice concise term for the fear of falling on your face at your son's wedding because you're wearing pretty shoes for the first time in your life. What's Greek for that?

the wedding

dearest firstborn,

I know you could have written all this yourself and done a better (and more thorough) job of it, but I thought I'd give it a shot exploring just how much kids imprint on their parents (or vice versa) (or not at all).

Besides, anthropologists should at least attempt a little cross-generational contemplation. Though, to be sure, we're so busy tracking other people's business (hm, just like the shrinks), it's a rare moment when we look back and contemplate our own.


So, off the top and in no particular order, here goes:

ours: jeans

yours: tuxedos


ours: um, I think we smoked them

yours: flowers, bouquets, flower arrangements, flower girl. you know: beautiful flowers (that aren't green)


ours: huh, what?

yours: pedi, mani, and makeup


ours: mini, black with glow in the dark patterns

yours: long, white and flowingly gorgeous


ours: hair

yours: styled


ours: sneaking into Temescal after hours, with illegal campfire and guitars

yours: the whole megilla, in a hall, with band and guitars


ours: Berkeley campus Hillel

yours: Lawrence restored historical treasure


ours: the Economy Cafe in Chinatown, with paper tablecloth and plastic chopsticks

yours: tasteful, with china


ours: with Morrie and Carol sleeping on our studio floor

yours: Upper East Side hotspot


ours: with Morrie and Carol, sleeping on the floor

yours: Hawaii, not camping out


ours: picked the rabbi 'cause he'd marched in Selma

yours: rabbi comes with restored synagogue


ours: tea ... ...

yours: surely champagne and all the good stuff


ours: from the only shop on Telegraph Avenue

yours: designer and designed


ours: two of every drug known to man, and a can of Spam from Denis (so we wouldn't forget the working class)

yours: all the necessities for starting out


ours: spur of the moment, so I could get a visa

yours: well planned, with a full year to do it right


ours: did the job

yours: a job well done


Mazel tov, my dearest first born, to you and your beautiful bride too.


Circle one:

a) bad parental units
b) good parental units
c) each generation a product of their times
d) massive generation gap
e) a parental job well done


love,
mum