There is plenty to worry about in this twenty-first century. But some of us are hard-wired to worry no matter what; and at some point the Worry mechanism robs a soul of the ability to do something about what is causing the Worry in the first place. Such has been my lot since 1961 when, as a second-grade student in Miss Wolf’s class, I failed to finish an assignment about what kind of questions might be asked around Thanksgiving (example: “May I have some more turkey, please?”) because I worried that I might not come up with the ten Miss Wolf required. You’d think the Apocalypse had started, the way that got to me.

Fifty-one years later, I am more mellow, less apocalyptic, more productive, and less dire-predictive. Either I gained wisdom or I gave up.

Here are the words to the acrostic:

WOE betides the Worry-Wart from cradle to estate
OMINOUS are Signs&Portents–onerousness great
Rigor Mortis–Nostradamus–yes, the end is nigh
Richilieus & Looky-Lous will hit you in the I
Yet the fine print indicates there is no need to panic
Yggdrasil & Gilgamesh prove Doom is merely Manic