I’ve never forgotten a conversational moment I had when I arrived at my church building years ago. I hurried to the door in order to open it for a woman who was just approaching the building. I half-startled her, but she gave a sincere “thank you” for the courtesy and then said, “I’ve been on my own for so long that I’m used to opening my own doors and killing my own snakes.”

I smiled at that. I had never heard that phrase before which communicates the message that “I take care of myself and solve my own problems.” I told her that more people should kill their own snakes. So, of course, we were speaking metaphorically relative to snakes. (At least I was)

I know there may be instances where killing a real snake is in order. When rattlesnakes start invading back into the territory that we humans invaded and settled, then we need to either inflict the death penalty or transfer them humanely back into a more suitable place. (Pulling the trigger is much easier, I suppose)

In the last two or three weeks, I have used a “live trap” and have caught seven squirrels, which to my way of thinking had invaded my space. Though I was advised to literally “kill my own squirrels,” I didn’t.

I drove a mile or two up the canyon, far away from any human dwellings, and released them. I considered it a humane wildlife relocation project. (Up there, I suspect that someone else will kill my squirrels for me.)

Back to snakes: I’ve mentioned here before that my brother kept a pet rattlesnake in a parakeet cage for a while when we were growing up. He’d be the one I’d call if I were serious about arranging a humane capture and relocation of a snake.

I can still hear him saying to that rattler, “Oh, you poor thing. These people are scaring you to death, aren’t they?” (This was on the occasion of the snake getting loose in the house. My less-than-happy mother was standing in the front yard with her hands on her hips waiting for the “all clear” word.)

I haven’t seen Hannah, my multi-generational garden snake, for quite a while. No snakes have been interested in our garden spot this year because there is no garden. A dry patch of ground with dried up weeds isn’t an attraction to any sort of wildlife really.

Over the years, whenever I see a snake in the yard I exclaim, “Holy Hannah!” (So, every snake in the yard is “Hannah.”) That exclamation of surprise is how she got her name because she scares me just about every time I see her.

Anyway, let’s get back to the metaphor. I believe that “killing one’s own snakes” means taking care of one’s own problems. The woman I opened the door for has done that throughout her life. She never married. She has lots of friends and lives a happy and successful life. She’s retired from her profession now, but remains active and busy in community and church affairs.

To me, she’s an example of provident living. And – she’s a fun person to be around. To me that alone is a high compliment.

More of us need to learn to deal with our own snakes. It’s not that it’s a bad thing to get help with problems. It’s just that many of us get into a “poor me” helpless mode and attitude. We seem to be unable to function without having someone else be involved with every “snake” that comes along in our lives.

Parents have the responsibility to teach responsibility to their children. When it’s time to leave the nest, the “little birds” should have gained some basic flying, worm catching, and… snake killing skills.

Okay, I feel like I’ve been up on a soapbox preaching and it’s time to step down. I hope that you Sanpeters are able to deal with the “snakes” in your lives. If you need to kill one (whether real or metaphorical), don’t check with me – just do it. — Merrill

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