Sharks on my mind

So this is Shark Week on the Discovery channel, the yearly ritual where we scare the wits out of ourselves by viewing the awesome power of sharks and don't visit the beach for the month. As much as I love the beach and the ocean and body-surfing, I must confess that I really do have a horrible fear of sharks and being eaten by one that stems from a variety of experiences of mine growing up.

When I was young I really had a thing for reading and I loved books, and was a pretty good reader in elementary school. I had read the Lord of the Rings Trilogy in the 6th grade, and was even devouring the dry Silmarillion Tolkein history in middle school (mainly to decipher the elven language). I was a member of the Science Fiction book club at a young age and started collecting books. My dad had provided Encyclopedias for us and even invested in various Time-Life book series, my favorite ones were the leather-bound covers of the Old West.

One of the first series that he got was the Nature Library, and they had one volume called The Sea. The opening chapters were colorful and delightful about the wonders of the ocean. But there was a certain point in the book, I faintly recall about chapter 6 or page 90, that dealt with the deep sea. In that part were pictures of awful monsters that swam in the waters, especially sharks. That part of the volume freaked me out and sent a chill down my spine. When I was young I loved being scared and would watch horror movies for the thrill of the scare. But this was different. I felt an odd nervous urge to pull down that volume and thumb through, daring myself past page 90. Often I would get halfway, then throw the book back on the shelf and run to my room. It really freaked me out.

At the tender age of 9 my father first took me and my brother Randy to see Jaws in the theaters in 1975, after all it was PG (!) and a smashing success. The problem was at night I kept having nightmares about it, and would often envision Ben Gardner's head floating by and knew a shark was around. As I drifted to sleep I felt I was lying on the ocean surface and at any moment a shark would come up and gobble me. No wonder I pee'd the bed. It probably didn't help that on one of our trips to Catalina island we had brought back a souvenir shark jaw, gaping wide open and big enough to fit my arm through but you had to avoid the still sharp teeth. I think it was my brother Randy's and he kept it in our room hanging on the wall. Wonderful image for self-starting nightmares.

With sterling consistency, my dad took me in 1978 to see Jaws 2. I remember it vividly as we sat on the right side of the theatre. There is a part after a boating accident that Chief Brody wades out in the water to retrieve a piece of the blown-up speedboat. At that moment a wave rises up and a large object comes on top of him. It was the burnt body of the boat driver, but you think its the shark. It scared me so bad I jumped from my seat. Literally. I was sitting in the lap of the lady behind me, it was so embarassing.

As you can imagine there were times I was afraid of the water, but we went to the beach so often I overcame it for the most part. I remember vivdly one time I was at the beach with my dad and I was playing in the waves trying to ride a few and venturing out further where I couldn't touch. I saw my dad on the beach waving at me, and I didn't know why. All of the sudden I felt something smooth slide up against me and I looked down to see this dark mass on my right side move by, with this triangle fin above the surface break the water right under my arm.

My heart sank to my feet and all I could think of was to swim with all my might or be chum. Now I was known to be a pretty spastic swimmer as it was, this time I must have had arms and legs gyrating in every direction as I scrambled to shore. As I pulled myself onto the beach in sheer panic amid the relief of touching land, my dad came up to me laughing. In my bewilderment he pointed out the dolphins that were near shore playing in the waves, and one had rubbed up to me sideways with his flipper. Relieved only slightly, I still knew there was something sinister in the water.

Though I do still love swimming in the ocean, I try not to look down too often to peer through the glassy surface. That's where my imagination gets me. I make it a rule to always bodysurf where there are others around. I figure it increases my chances of survival if the man-eater has a choice.

You can imagine how I feel about this . . . .