Last night, I worked a bit late, stopped for dinner, and then was going to head back into my office and do a bit more, but stopped first in the kitchen to cut up some roasted chicken I’d bought as a treat for my cats. I stood there for some time at the counter, cutting, looking out the big kitchen windows into the yard, watching the dusk-feeding cardinals at the feeder which hangs at the edge of the carport. Calm night. I was looking forward to going outside around 11 pm and watching the Perseid meteor shower.

I fed the cats, cleaned the kitty litter, and stepped out to the carport area to throw the trash in the garbage can.

As I reached the garbage can, a black man suddenly appeared beside the bushes (not sure if he’d come through them or been walking along them), but it scared me so much — completely startled me, he was only a few feet from me, I hadn’t heard him coming — it was in my yard very close to the door, and I just dropped the trash and ran inside. I’ve never treated a human being like that before. Running from someone? But, the man was up IN my yard, right at my carport, feet from my kitchen window.

He was yelling a bit and gesticulating kind of wildly (and wild-eyed) and stood within inches of the big glass windows in my kitchen. He moved further into the carport, but then came back to the window, still kind of yelling — but not really loudly — and I really couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.

Now, I’ve lived in big cities; I’ve walked the streets of Paris at 3 am because I missed the last bus from the RER to go back to my little room rental — alone. I’ve walked the streets of Boston at all hours of the day and night — alone save the wharf rats who sometimes crossed my path. I’ve had some run-ins with and I always, always, always, have stood my ground and confronted anyone who seemed to have not-so-good intentions and forced them to back off.

I can be fierce. I have been fierce. I’ve told a group of three men on Charles street to “Back the f*ck up, mother-f*ckers” when they got too close to me one night and were talking sh*t in their sing-song voices, as I walked home one night. I’ve had a group of crazy, drugged out men and women in a Paris city park literally surround me and — I’m not kidding — crack a bullwhip all around me. The women were telling the men what they should do to me, and I looked the man with the bullwhip in the eyes and walked steadily toward him, making him back up. I couldn’t believe my bluff worked. I got within a foot of him and I said, “Pardon-moi.” And crazily, and to my great good fortune, the guy, for some reason, gave me a pass. I exited the park, and sensed but didn’t see because I didn’t turn around, that the group was following me, I walked out to the middle of the road — seriously, because I didn’t want to be on the sidewalk near the trees and bushes of the park — and miraculously, unbelievably, one of the tiny, tiny cars (can’t remember the name of those little guys — Peugeot or something?) coming barreling down the street belonged to a man I was dating who had decided to come see me at the park. I jumped in the car and told him to get the hell out of Dodge, which, he really didn’t understand, so I yelled “Casse-toi!!” Which isn’t all that nice, really, but he got the message and floored it.

So my point is, I’m usually no scaredy cat.

But last night, this guy right outside my kitchen window, scared the pants off me. (Well, I was wearing a dress, but still, you get my point.)

It all ended okay — I guess. He left when I picked up the phone (which is right in front of the kitchen window) — but when I did pick it up, he seemed to get even angrier. But he did leave. I won’t bore you with the rest of the details of last night, but believe me, I was safe and the guy never came back.

Anyway, a week or so back, my Mom, who also lives in Sarasota, had a man come up to her door, a white man, and say that he did the roof on her house several years ago (it is indeed a relatively new roof). He said he noticed some shingles loose and wanted to come inside to see if there was any rain damage. Well, my Mom didn’t buy that, but the man insisted he had to show her the loose shingles. She did go outside to look up at the roof (which she’ll never do again, because I’ve read her the riot act), and the man was still insisting he “better check inside.” He claimed he was in the neighborhood because he was doing the roof on the new house being built just down the road. (There is a new house being built, but we checked and the builder later told us that he had not hired the man we described.)

It all ended okay, because, my Mom never let him inside. But he, also, seemed to get angry when she refused to let him come in and “check the house.” She wisely called the cops.

A lot of people fall for that kind of stuff, though. Did you hear about the older couple who had two men come up to their door here in Sarasota and the men said they were looking for their lost dog (and in fact, there were lost dog signs up in the neighborhood that week), and could they have a glass of water? The older man turned to get some water, and the hit him in the head and kicked him — with his wife in the house! Luckily, they survived it.

I hate to think we have to be afraid. I hate to think I can’t take my garbage out to my carport. I hate to think some a-hole was trying to rip off or worse my Mom. And I hate that someone could come to a door and ask for the simplest of all necessities — water — and we have to say no.

I have fear and loathing — but not for who or what you might think — such as the drugged out/homeless/broke/unemployed/nefarious/not nefarious people trying to get what they need to survive. I have a smart caution and healthy inclination to steer clear of those types if they intend to do me or my home harm. But I don’t fear and loathe them.

I reserve my real fear and loathing for the rest of us — the relatively sane/legally-drugged/still employed even if just barely/with a roof over our heads, at least for now/good/sort of good people trying to protect themselves and what they have.

Fear and loathing for what we are in danger of becoming in our efforts to stay safe — to keep our little worlds intact in all ways, to keep our loved ones safe, to protect our belongings.

The glass of water not given; the humanity unacknowledged; the call to social services unmade because we don’t want to get involved; the driving by the woman with the bag of groceries standing at the bus stop in the pouring rain. The Perseids meteor showers unwatched because we’re afraid to open our door and step into our yard at 11 o’clock at night.

That is what I fear. That is what I loathe.