We all have our fears, and I have plenty of them, mostly irrational. But fear has a way of grabbing you by the throat, rational or not.

My fears stretch back to my earliest memories. What better to etch a sketch on your brain than a real scare? Slipping off the spinning merry-go-round and cracking my head on the asphalt when I was 4 years old was enough to spawn fears of playground equipment, spinning and, by extrapolation, carnival rides.

Irrational? I doubt it. A few years later, I was smacked in the face by the end of a wooden teeter-totter on another playground, where I was next in line. And standing too close apparently. The equipment was out to get me. That would explain throwing up after a ride on the kiddie rollercoaster at the Minnesota State Fair.