More about Spiders

I thought, since yesterday I explained how I react to spiders, I would today talk about how I believe I contracted the fear of these 8 legged beings.
Yes, contracted. It is a sickness that can and I will, OVERCOME.

Anyhow.

When I was young, very young, in elementary school, I read a story in Highlights magazine about a Black Widow Spider.

I was a highly imaginative child, a trait I still treasure, and as such was highly invested in this story. The young girl who was the narrator and main character was, I imagined, a lot like myself and I related to her.
In the story (although I remember it only vaguely, so I'm not sure of its accuracy) the young girl grew up on or around a farm.
In the picture that accompanied the story, I recall her sitting (or laying?) in the foreground with pale skin and dark hair. In the background I remember seeing planks of wood, bracers, beams, like a barn.
I grew up pretty much on a farm. Or at least many of my younger years were spent near one and I was such an avid reader, easily relating to and being drawn to any kind of story.

When the young girl was bitten by a spider, a Black Widow, no less, I was naturally afraid for her.
At the time I didn't know much about spiders or their bites, or anything of the sort but the girl in the story was bit and almost died.

Now that I'm older I realize the drama of writing a story this way with the soul crushing fear of death at the tiny teeth marks of a spider.
But when I was young, I was petrified.

For weeks I scoured the limited pages of the internet and the few books I owned that mentioned spiders, to glean the location of the Black Widow.
I learned her markings (shiny black but with a red hour glass on the underside and occasional dots on the top) the locations in which they normally reside (warm dry climates, in dark places, cluttered and out of the way) and the consequences of being bitten (extreme pain, cramping, continuing for several days and not usually fatal except in the cases of children and elderly).

The summer after leaning all these things, or perhaps it was a few summers later, I had the unfortunate fate of actually being bitten by a spider.
It was a warm day, but not warm enough to go swimming. I remember that because I was at a friend's that had a pool, but none of us were in it.
Out in the back yard, beyond the pool, was a swing set and slide. I recall seeing many little white spiders crawling around there. Obviously, they weren't Black Widows, or even very large spiders, but there were an awful lot of them there, so I was a bit squeamish.

I can't remember now, if I ever slid down the slide but I do know that shortly after there was a sharp pain in my arm and it slowly swelled and changed color.

It wasn't a Black Widow but I was, of course, allergic.

Shockingly, at the time it happened I remember that my worst fear wasn't the allergy to spiders. I was afraid that the swelling wasn't going to be gone by the time I had to play viola at a concert a week or so away.

Still, I think I have reason to believe (especially seeing as I remember it so well) that this situation, coupled with that story that spooked me so much, is probably the origin of my arachnophobia.