FRUCTOPHOBIA

“Fructophobia (from fructus, Latin for “fruit”) is the fear of fruit.” According to experts people fear fruit because they are afraid of ingesting seeds that may “germinate inside one’s body or getting infested with insects or worms.” I’ve been afraid/disgusted by fruit my entire life—some fruits more than others. What the hell does this have to do with the Catskills you ask? Well, just the other day Samm and I were invited to go over to Sullivan County’s FIRST U-pick orchard to participate in a community pick, cocktails and pot-luck at Majestic Farms. Samm was more than down to go but I put the brakes on. No way I was gonna participate. I not only have no memory of ever eating an apple, I don’t even like to touch one. The prospect of trudging through an orchard, possibly stepping on a rotten piece of fruit, fills me with dread and anxiety. The community at large finds my phobia ridiculously entertaining and doesn’t miss a chance to bust my balls or attach other reasons (like homophobia) for my intense gag-reflex and absolute terror of bananas. I love plenty of homos but will run from a peeled banana. 

     You may find this odd, but I’ve never googled “fear of fruit” until about twenty minutes ago. Once again (like the Orgy Dome) The New York Post has the scoop. We live in a society that constantly tells us to “face your fear.” “People think there must be some childhood onset,” phobia expert Corrie Ackland reports, “some single event that ‘caused’ the phobia. In fact phobias can emerge any time in a person’s life, without obvious reason.” I’ve lived with my fruit phobia for almost seven decades. I do this by having many rules that govern my intake of fruit. I won’t eat an apple, but love “well cooked” apple pie. I won’t eat an orange, but orange juice is fine. Some fruits like peaches, pears, cantaloupes, pineapple, grapes, bananas and any kind of fruit salad are avoided at all costs. Berries (except strawberries) are okay. That’s the basics.

   Plenty of people are terrified of spiders, snakes, cockroaches, dogs, germs, closed spaces, blood or flying in an airplane. The Post reports that Trump has “bathmophobia,” or the fear of stairs or ramps. The WH has no comment. Look at him clutch the rail on that descent down the gold escalator, as he warns of Mexican “rapists and murderers.” Xenophobia? That diagnosis is an easy one. Maybe his distress increases as he feels himself losing control during the descent.

    Back in the Catskills I’ve had to navigate many a dinner party, cider get together and orchardist’s garden party over the years, not exactly “facing” my fears, but maneuvering around them. I even have a sculpture with an apple tree growing out of the roof. You may find it comical (or pitiful) but I was not at all sure that I could pick the apples when they grew to beautiful ripeness. Contextualizing my fruit as social sculpture helped me with my deep seated fear. I gently cradled the apple in my hand, steadied the thin trunk of the tree (of the rose family), twisted the fruit and……