Ever had a moment in time where you were at a particular place and could see something bad happening?
I think most of us can say they have. Call it seeing the future, wrong place and wrong time, or the stars aligning… but we’ve all experienced a moment like this.
When I was a teenager, I experienced a moment like this at one of our local golf courses when one of the folks I was playing with was looking for a lost ball. This particular hole had a pond with a swampy area next to it, and the golfer I was with spotted their ball about five feet off the cart path in this area.
They took one step in, and the next thing you know, their right foot sunk in the muck and they were up to their crotch in mud.
After doing my best to suppress my laughter, we pulled our playing partner out of the mud and rescued their shoe at the bottom of the hole.
It’s a moment we still talk about to this day – just not to that particular person’s face.
Fast forward a couple decades later, and I am with my family in Fort Erie for Thanksgiving Weekend. My wife’s aunt and uncle own a home along the lake, and after dinner I took the kids out for a walk along the beach to look for some sea glass.
After about 20 minutes of searching, we found nothing. I told the kids we should get back to the house for pumpkin pie, to which they heartily agreed.
The water was low at the lake that night, and all sorts of unusual things were washed ashore. Included in that bunch of things was a great mound of seaweed that appeared to be dried up.
“What is that?” asked one of the boys.
“Seaweed,” I said. “Just to be safe, stay over here.”
It was too late.
One kid ran out to check out the green-brown mass, and promptly sunk in to their knees.
“Dad, I’m stuck!”
My daughter Ivy, always eager to help, spoke up.
“I’ll help him, Dad!”
“Wait!”
Again, too late. She took a step in and sunk to her knees.
My oldest was wearing his rubber boots – as were his siblings – because they are smart and listened to their mother when she said to wear boots to the beach. I, on the other hand, stood there in my runners.
I told the stuck siblings to try wiggling their feet to loosen the mud, but that just made them sink further. I had a decision to make.
“Cameron, go in and help your brother and sister,” I said.
“Dad, I’m going to get stuck,” he replied.
“You have boots, I don’t. Your turn.”
So in he went. He managed to make it to his brother and sister before he too became stuck.
Many things ran through my mind at this point. Do I go in after them? Do I leave and get help? Do I go back to the house, say the kids are in a better place, and carry on life without children?
The choice was obvious. I had to go in after them.
I took a deep breath, tied my shoes tight, and managed to reach Duncan, the middle child. After pulling him out of his boots, I set him down as close to the edge of the muck as I could and he escaped. I then pulled his boots out of the muck, tossed them onto the sand, and told him to go get help.
Naturally, he stood there while I pulled his sister out. I repeated the same process – pulled her out of her boots, then pulled the boots out, and tossed them to the sand.
I then made my way over to Cameron.
By this time, Duncan and Ivy went back to the house and told the other adults that we were stuck in the mud.
By the time other family members made it down to the beach, I was pulling myself out of the muck. My jeans were covered from above the knees, my shoes were full of only God knows what…
And everyone had a great laugh.
It may have been messy, but it made a memory that I’m sure will be talked about for many Thanksgivings to come.
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Mike Wilson is the editor of Midwestern Newspapers. He is a firm believer in karma, and that the universe will wait 20 years to get revenge for laughing at someone who sunk into the muck up to their crotch at a golf course. Comments and feedback are welcome at mwilson@midwesternnewspapers.com.
