A recent edition of the AARP Bulletin wondered what readers really know about taking risks. The publication asked for essays of 400 words or less; one submission would be selected for the next issue's What I Really Know segment.     I've never professed to really know anything about anything, but I am familiar with risk. Like the day I ventured onto the show floor of a suburban car dealership to interview for a sales position. More than 30 years later, I can still recall the manager's reaction when I first telephoned about the job I had seen advertised in the newspaper. "Do you hire women to sell cars?" I asked him. He paused, swallowed, cleared his throat and answered, "Well, we've never had one apply." He didn't need to end his sentence with Little Lady for me to get the message.
     Nearly three years ago, a few weeks before Memorial Day, I stuck my neck out and called the editor of this paper to ask if he would be interested in a piece I had written abut my mother and her yearly visits to the cemetery on the day of remembrance. Going out on a limb, I admitted nothing would be better than to write a weekly column for this newspaper. Then crossed my fingers and hoped he wouldn't remember only months before I had written a letter to him, chastising his use of a word I found unacceptable.
     Peril surrounds us every day. When you think about it, nothing's a sure thing, is it? Just leaving the house can be a hazard. Only a week ago, my husband headed down the highway on his way to work one morning and missed being a statistic by about 15 minutes. According to the news reports, the other side of the road had gotten slippery in one spot and an SUV going the opposite way had jumped the median and hit another vehicle.
     Even getting out of bed can be a gamble. It was also last week that I noticed a Kleenex on the floor as I arose. Bending down to retrieve it, I couldn't stop my feet, in their soft fuzzy socks, from sliding on the carpet. They went out from under me and I crash landed in a heap.
     Maybe it's not a good thing to focus on a subject like risk. It can create a sense of doom and gloom, generating doubt and insecurity that could render us ineffective to face the very decisions about which we need to feel secure. Whether it's asking for your sweetie's hand in marriage, deciding to have children, or opting for a skiing vacation, life is a gamble.
     What would happen if no one dared to become parents? Or decided not to take a chance on happily ever after? Would winter resorts be forced to close if tourists weighed the hazard of schussing down snow-covered mountains?
     In the nearly 30 years I sold cars, most customers had no trouble deciding which engine, body style and options they wanted on their new vehicle. Selecting the color, though, became a matter of life and death. Arrest Me Red? Boring Blue? Sultry Silver? No one dared to tool around town in a car of the wrong hue.
     At the risk of sounding foolhardy, maybe it's best we take a long time with considerations like choosing a shade of paint. And dive head first into decisions that, if contemplated carefully, we might be too afraid to ever make. Some things require a leap of faith.