Other people may like fish hooks just fine and not give a thought to their potential death by drowning. They may, however, be afraid of spiders, or air travel, or child birth, or potato salad that has been left out of the fridge for more than fifteen minutes, or being in a car that is spinning wildly out of control, or of the number 30, or of what other people are thinking of them, or of pizza sauce, or of public speaking, or of ObamaCare, or of slingshots, or of finding new facial wrinkles, or of not having adequate health insurance, or of losing a spouse, or of all left shoes, or of buttons too large for button holes, or of nuclear war, or of yellow crayons that have broken in half, or of 100 watt bulbs, or of being alone in later years.
None of these things cause me more than a smidge of concern, much less actual, outright fear. Drowning and fish hooks: what's the connection? Water? Boats? Fish in water? An event in my distant past that I have repressed so completely that I have absolutely no idea what it might be?