There’s a word I see around, a very catchy word, a very self-explanatory word.
It refers to the tendency of some unfortunate souls to inflame the most mundane events with the worst imaginable outcome. The compulsion to turn a drive down the street into an epic mortal disaster-in-waiting is not illogical, it is just disproportionate to reality. Bad things happen but most of the time, they don’t. Most of the time that road trip to San Diego will be normal and you will come back in one piece. It is the same dynamic that lends itself to phobic thinking but is more diffuse and generalized.
I have never been guilty of catastrophization (well, maybe when my son was younger and starting to do stuff on his own with his friends…I turned into a worrier during those years) but I have had phobic moments.
I suspect I do experience catastrophization but not in an anxious manner that generates adrenaline or cortisol. My type of catastrophization is theoretical, even artistic. I catastrophize potential events and make narratives of them — short, fleeting worst-outcome tales of doom. Most of these don’t get written, they simmer inside my mind, untold, where they belong. They don’t cause me any worry because I know I am just writing a fictional account about a catastrophic twist that is amusing to me.
I wrote something about 13 years ago called Red Chevrolet.
**
The ballad is thus.
Hank and Emma have been dating for 5 years. They are deeply in love and due to various middle-America circumstances, they have not married yet. However, a wedding is imminent, or at least the proposal is.
They talk about marriage and it's only a matter of time before Hank drops to his knee and delivers his romantic pitch.
Love is in the air! One afternoon Hank stops at the local market to buy Emma a Valentine's Day card and he finds a very simple, austere card. It is not flashy or full or gooey love language. Even the art is subdued.
"ALWAYS" the card promises assuredly. He is struck by its simplicity. Hank is a good ol' boy, a man of few words, a little bit Alpha in matters not involving Emma.
His eyes tear up just a tad but he swallows the sentimentality and pays for the card before heading to his pick-up in the parking lot. He places the bag with the card on the passenger seat and drives away. At a nearby intersection, he sees the traffic light is green so he continues through.
He thinks about how, when he gets home, he will work on Emma's Valentine's "package." Unseen by Hank is a speeding Camaro driven by a drunk businessman headed south on the intersecting street. The Camaro races through the red light. Hank never sees it coming.
The collision happens so quickly that for a moment, he only sees a red blur as the drunken driver T-bones Hank's pick-up. The awesome force catapults Hank through the driver’s side window and he is killed instantly.
A few days later, Emma accompanies Hank's distraught parents to retrieve his belongings from the totaled truck at the impound yard. Emma finds a Valentine's Day card lying amidst the broken glass and other dirty particulates from the car’s destroyed cabin. It had been intended for her and she guesses Hank was returning from the market with it. The card is hidden by a mangled piece of plastic, a mystical and forlorn gift from beyond the grave.
She opens it, it is blank. The card is plain and is exactly what Hank would choose. The word “ALWAYS” printed in red is striking and shatters her heart. She wants to die.
Hank never had a chance to add his own love to this simple card.
The next Catastrophe installment was published on 2/28/25
