Another Example of Why I Hate Birds

(Photo: MSN.com)

In case you missed an earlier post on my fear and loathing of birds, I'll recap. My crazy grandmother insisted birds were evil. She was superstitious. For example, she believed someone close to you would die if a bird gets in your house. Hitchcock's movie "The Birds" didn't help but most of the blame falls to my grandmother.

(Toward the end of her life she actually owned a bird and would answer the door with the bird perched on her head. I have yet to reconcile this in my mind.)

Occasionally I can admire the beauty of your feathered friends from the safety of indoors but that's about it. I have had complete hysterical attacks if a bird gets close to me on a beach. Someone once asked me to go on a hike with her so we could experience bird watching. She did not know me well and I did not go.

Last week I watched in amazement as the survivors of the US Air plane that crash landed in the Hudson were rescued. It was a miracle and the pilot, Chesley Sullenberger (Sully), is truly a hero.

Of all my quirks and idiosyncrasies, fear of flying does not make the list. "Cross check and call forward" is one of my favorite phrases. I have flown in commercial planes and private planes, teeny planes and jumbo jets. I flew the day they opened the skies after 9/11. (Yes, I looked for terrorists -- as if I would know how to identify one.)

Even with the bird threat, I would get on a plane today. But I will never take a hike to watch birds.

Pod People

When I was a little girl, Friday night was scary movie night. This was a standing date with my dad. If I had the audacity to fall asleep, my dad would poke me. We saw all of the great ones:

Psycho, The Birds, North by Northwest, Rear Window, etc.

My personal favorite was:

Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

They remade this movie in the 70s but nothing tops the creepiness of the original version. It's a little like The Stepford Wives because the humans are being replaced.

There is a point to this story.

We are pod people. My mother coined this phrase about my country club friends. She thinks we're "peas in a pod." She's only partially correct.

Yes, we all spend an inordinate amount of time together. Some play golf, some play cards, some just lounge in Cocktail Corner during the pool season. Yes, we know way too much about each other's marriages, children, oldies, etc. We can get on each other's nerves. Then we turn around and go out to dinner or on vacation together.

The men handle the skirmishes better than the women. They can almost come to blows and then play golf the next day. Women have long memories. Plus, we're protective of our people. Family may come first but many of these people would throw themselves in front of a bus for me. The feeling is mutual.

Some are wealthy; some are scraping by. Some love to flaunt their power and prestigious positions; others love the bargain hunting. Some love to brag; others love to gossip.

On Monday nights, The husband and I meet various pod people. It's a ritual. During the summer, I meet lots of pod people at the pool. My holidays are intertwined with family traditions and pod people parties. I work out with some of my pod people three times a week.

The oldies made a gigantic leap when they moved here from Mississippi. They didn't have a lot of choices. Now that they've been here two years, I see how much they miss friends and some sort of a social life. We've tried but unless people start knocking on the dungeon door, their social circle is not likely to expand.

We're not peas in a pod but on some days we're close.

All of this reminiscing makes me want to watch a scary movie with my dad.

Birds and Superstitions

I don't care for birds. They give me the creeps. I know they're beautiful and serve their purpose but they still make me a little crazy. Alfred Hitchcock didn't help but I mostly picked this up from my grandmother. She was very superstitious. A bird that accidentally flew into your house meant that someone close to you was going to die. There's an upper thought as you're running around your house with a broom trying to get the stupid creature to fly out.

I don't consider myself superstitious but I do feel the prickly hairs on the back of my neck when a black cat crosses my path or someone walks under a ladder. I think it's my grandmother saying, "I'm still here."

On vacation a few years ago, there was a child near me on the beach. He took great pleasure in throwing his chips in the air and all the seagulls would come flocking. My girlfriends were hysterical because I was having a meltdown. All of these birds swooping down! Hello, Alfred Hitchcock! Suddenly, I'm Tippi Hedren without the pretty hairdo. Not funny, Grandma!