BoomerGirl Diary

By Jane Glenn Haas - The Orange County Register

Most of us have instinctive feelings - those prickly, hair-raising, attention-getting twinges that tell us ahead lies danger, disaster, death, mayhem, whatever.

And for most of us, they are instinctive feelings based on an experience.

Or fear of an experience.

Like the less-than-panic-but-near-disaster experience I had last weekend when we lost my 3-year-old granddaughter in Disneyland's Toon Town.

I thought of the urban legend I've heard since I moved to Orange County, Calif. The one about the children that are "kidnapped" at Disneyland, their hair dyed quickly in a nearby bathroom, their clothes changed and then they're whisked out of the park.

Not true, I told myself as we searched for Meghan, and the Toon Town staffers joined our hunt. Never have had it confirmed, I reminded myself.

Just talk.

Calm the prickles, I told myself.

They have great security, I told my daughter. Never have heard of any "lost" child yet.

Sure enough. Disneyland Security in nearby Fantasyland - quite a walk from Toon Town - had Miss Meghan, who was wailing for her mommy.

So when is instinct reality and when is it only fear?

I mean, do you really think someone is going to attack you after dark or have you watched too many horror films.

And how much is grounded in past experience?

When my daughter, Miss Meghan's mommy, was dating a guy who lived 25 miles from our house, I used to worry when she drove in to meet him and was late returning home.

I would start writing the story in my head: Blonde college student found murdered inside her stalled car on the freeway.

Stop doing that, I told myself.

Then a young woman was found murdered, and Joanne said, "Wow, I guess I should pay attention. I didn't tell you about the night I changed my own tire around 1 a.m."

On the side of the freeway. A blonde college student.

OK, but then there's a difference between sensible instinct and sentimental instinct.

Writing in "The Yomiuri Shimbun," Shoichi Nasu noted:

"I'm not sure whether humans have a homing instinct like that of bees or pigeons, but I somehow seem to have a deeper longing for home than most of my compatriots. The feeling has strengthened as I have got older, although I don't have any plans or the means to realize my homecoming dream for the time being.

"This feeling of regarding where we came from as precious is shared by many people in Japan."

The homing instinct, he believes, will keep nations from bonding into a single entity - like the European Union. He can't imagine someone saying, "I'm from Europe but my parents used to say they were from France."

We all long for our "homeland," I think, particularly as we age.

And so we say, "I was raised in the Midwest, and I'd like to visit my old hometown again." But we also instinctively believe, "I'm an American," which is our strength and union.

Which brings me to swimming pools. Yes, that seems like a leap, but trust me.

I'm taking water therapy and share a pool with children as young as 4 months who are learning to swim. Most of them seem to have little or no instinctive fear of the water.

Ever seen an 18-month-old boy in goggles doing a backstroke across an Olympic-size pool?

Are children smarter than we are, in some instinctive way?

I think it makes sense, as we reach these instinctively wise years of 50-plus, to take a measure of why we have some of these "instinctive" reactions.

Are they grounded in real experiences or imagined horror tales? Do we raise primitive prickles of apprehension or are we reacting to made-up shudderings?

If age keeps you from diving into new waters for fresh experiences, perhaps you need to realign your instincts. There's a difference between self-preservation and self-serving attitudes toward life.