My Issues with Security

Webster 1828 Dictionary . . .

SECU’RITY, n. [L. securitas.]Masquerade

  • Protection; effectual defense or safety from danger of any kind; as a chain of forts erected for the security of the frontiers.
  • That which protects or guards from danger. A navy constitutes the security of Great Britain from invasion.
  • Freedom from fear or apprehension; confidence of safety; whence, negligence in providing means of defense. Security is dangerous, for it exposes men to attack when unprepared. Security in sin is the worst condition of the sinner.

I used to sell life insurance. We had a worksheet to use with clients called Risk Management. It was used to assess a person’s assets and determine how best to protect those assets from all of life’s unforeseen possibilities that could steal those assets. That’s good planning. At least, that’s one way of looking at it.

Security is in demand. From home intrusions to stolen identity, security is wanted, needed, and in demand like never before. I had my Social Security number stolen two years ago; not a pleasant experience.

Beginning with our childhood, security was sought after without realizing it. It’s part of the human paradigm. Whenever we were uncomfortable, hungry or soiled, we cried out in anguish until someone came to our rescue and met our needs. That’s essentially how we learned to get what we wanted. And this, in a crude way, is how security is attained. As we eliminate the unwanted for the wanted, we acquire a skill that becomes perfected all through life.

Depending on the acquired skill, it can either serve me well or become a cruel master. I know this all too well. I grew up as the last of ten children. Two of my older brothers whom I’ve never met died at birth. A third older brother had his own issues at infancy. At four years old, I came down with a mild case of polio. As someone who survived this terrible disease in 1954, I was granted immunity from many of the wrong things I did in my developing years.

I wasn’t a bad kid. I survived polio, but came down with a very severe case of immunity and special exceptions. I’m not blaming my childhood for the adult that I see in the mirror. So I grew up becoming familiar with a security accompanied by a sense of immunity and exemption status. This had become so familiar, so normal, I didn’t recognize it for the mask it became.

Securing comfort is not wrong, when no wrong has been done to secure it. Have you ever noticed when a wrong is committed, your mind starts bothering you?  This circuit judge that lives inside our head, viz., our conscience, delivers the verdict. If a guilty decision is reached, I make an appeal. I learned how to make very good appeals. They were lengthy well-thought appeals. I always won. Case closed, move on!

What I didn’t realize was my friends, immunity and exemption, would become my masters in life. To make matters worse, when I realized who my friends were, instead of exposing them, I hid them with beautiful masks. That’s what masks are for, right? And the best masks are the ones others can not see. Hmm. . .


Author: RoyZed

I'm a pretty simple country guy who enjoys living in the wide open spaces. I was married two years after graduating from high school. Life was pretty simple. You know, black and white, clear cut, no hassle kind of life style.Then 40 years later our marriage ceded to death. Life as I knew it was over! Pain and suffering have a way of opening you up like a plow tills a field. As a result, my black and white philosophy went to 256 shades of gray. I have a changed perspective, a different heart and a new life. My wife, Carrie, and I live in Kempton, Pennsylvania where we are enjoying our new lives together with our friends, family, horses and a colony of feral cats.

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