That Was Close...

Everyone has those kind of moments, the ones that make you stop in your tracks and take a deep breath and say a little prayer of thanks that harm did not come to you. I am not talking about the car almost sideswiping your Ford Taurus station wagon on the interstate where you think you might have gotten hurt moments; I'm talking about the did that just really happen moments.

Up until Wednesday of this week I have had two moments in life where I thought I was going to die. Then Wednesday happened and I have a hard head so I probably would have escaped death but there could have been serious injury.

When I was in high school I did not always make the best decisions. On one particular afternoon I decided to partake in all kinds of fun. A large group of us had gathered at a spot in downtown Lynchburg, VA that people from school called Nam. It was an old concrete truss over railroad tracks near a popular pizza joint. Nam was very convenient. It offered plenty of free parking and a wild variety of overgrown vegetation to keep our illegal activities from the local police.

Late in the day my head wasn't too clear and I probably wasn't following OSHA rules for hanging out on a ledge with paraphernalia. Someone told a story that made me break into hysterical laughter and when I did I took a step backward. My right foot landed on a pocket of air and my leg followed. I turned to my left and saw the wide eyes of the one person who saw what almost happened just before I felt a sensation under my foot and against my back. Believe you me, even as high as I was, I felt the downward force of stepping off into 30 feet of air. However, the downward force was halted. My shoulders lifted up and my right foot found purchase on the ledge. Immediately I felt sober and embarrassed. I put a finger to my lips so Bobbi wouldn't say anything. The look on her face went back to normal and I took a seat against the wall as if nothing had happened. I will never forget the look on Bobbi's face or the subtle (but not so subtle) sensation as Someone pressed the "up" button instead of "down" and all the momentum in life changed.

Instance Number 2 occurred in Costa Rica. In 1994 I traveled there to learn how to surf. The first day in I went out amidst chest-high surf. Anyone who surfs and might be reading this is already thinking 'what an idiot' and they are exactly right. I got caught inside a set of waves without really knowing how to duck dive too well. The surf worked me over as if I had never swam across the Tred Avon River, ran a 4.8 40 yard dash, or picked an obnoxious fraternity a#%hole up over my head and slammed him on the ground when visiting the Univeristy of Richmond. Wave after wave pushed me under water. Breaths were hard to come by but I was doing all right for a while. 'A while' was too much time. I grew weary quickly. One time I popped my head out of the Pacific Ocean and saw one of the other campers looking at me horrified and he started turning his board around to come back and save me. Then came another wave and under I went.

I'm not afraid to admit that in certain situations I can panic with the best of them. This was not one of them. The last time I went underwater I resigned myself to let the ocean have me. I had no business being out there so I had some heavy dues to pay. I kicked with my feet to try and reach the surface but I had no idea which way was up. No matter how many times I tugged on my leash I could not grasp my surfboard. I shrugged my shoulders and thought 'oh well.' My chest was tight with a desire for air and I had to let go. I opened my mouth and took a deep breath of that disgusting Pacific Ocean swill. It didn't hurt. Nothing in that moment hurt. It was a long and peaceful time underwater. The sunlight was gone and so were the bubbles. Then came sand hitting the bottom of my feet. It felt as if someone had unraveled a flying carpet of earth at just the right moment. I pushed off and broke through the surface as the other camper came over and yelled at me to get back to shore.

Getting back to shore was a chore. My arms could barely hold on to the surfboard. I was too tired to paddle so I went back underwater to try and push off the ocean floor and propel myself back in. My flying carpet of earth had vanished. Where had it gone? My foot found no traction. Once again I was floating in deep water but at least I had my surfboard under me and I wanted to paddle in the direction the waves were traveling. Back on the beach I sat and looked out over the ocean, my eyes focused on the distant horizon and my lips moved in a constant prayer of thanks.

So for years things had been good. The wild days are behind me. Now I tend to think through adventurous situations and I almost always wear a helmet. Who would have thought walking a mongrel through Lincoln Park would hold me in my tracks and make me consider my place in life for several silent minutes.

The wind gusts were reaching 30 knots on Wednesday. Eli looked so handsome with his fur all blown out by the wind. We walked along a freshly paved path over by the zoo and I thought about going to the lake to see if there were any waves but it was getting near time to open the Ale House so we stayed close to home. I was admiring Eli and thinking about getting my camera out of its dusty bag to start making photographs once again. Suddenly I felt a sting on my wrist then something smashed into my right thigh. What followed was the sound of one solid bit of matter hitting another solid bit of matter. I don't know any other way to describe it. I turned around and saw an eight-foot-long branch that was about six inches thick lying on the path just behind me. The fungi from the bark left a stain on my thigh. The wind was so loud I didn't hear it snap from the top of the aged tree we passed under. I stood there for quite some time looking around to see if anybody else had witnessed what just happened.

Ninety seconds later an elderly couple came up over a small berm, smiled at Eli, then kept walking. From the north came some person bundled up in a medium-puffy coat who kept on their way as if I didn't almost just get seriously injured. No one was around this urban space to share my experience. Eli kept looking at me wagging his tail as if saying 'let's go!' I was almost maimed and no one can verify it! Much of my prayer of thanks was for the fact that Eli's leash was tightly wrapped around my wrist so if I had been knocked out he wouldn't have been able to escape unless he chewed my arm off!

Fortunately, favorable Eyes were upon me. I firmly believe such. I like to think it was my father who caught me and propped me back up on the ledge at Nam. Only one Higher Power could have unraveled the ocean floor to help a foolish young man make it back to New York to graduate from Columbia and make his mother happy after years of thorough and complete disappointment. Everything happens for a reason; at least it sure does so in my life. In a few years I might be able to look back on Wednesday and understand why I was only a little bit bruised. I cannot dwell on the "why."One must move forward from the kind of moments I described but one must move on with proper perspective. I think I am doing so. Today I am still giving thanks. Things are as they are and that is just great because as things are they are really quite wonderful!