When I was a young girl, one of my biggest fears was getting caught in quicksand. Jonny Quest and Tarzan movies often showed characters walking through jungles and suddenly, without warning, someone was quickly sinking in a pit. Race Bannon or Tarzan would grab a stick or rope to throw, hoping that would allow an escape for Hadji or Jane. Quicksand was around every corner, sucking out the life of major and minor characters. Mostly they were rescued, but occasionally a character disappeared, never to return. A 2010 article in Slate stated that almost 3% of the adventure films of the 1960s had characters falling into quicksand.
There was no quicksand in Central Illinois, yet I was still terrified. I had grown up in an era surrounded by 1000 degree metal slides, Jarts, and clackers. We rode our bikes without helmets and wandered the neighborhoods without adult supervision. We played in the street. Seatbelts and carseats? Ha! Large rubber balls were used in school sanctioned dodge ball games, but the fear of dying in quicksand gave me nightmares. In my mind, pits of churning sand were everywhere. Would I survive if I accidentally stepped into one? What would it be like down there in the dark, not being able to breathe? Who would save me? Jonny Quest’s father definitely didn’t live in my neighborhood.
This irrational fear of quicksand subsided as other terrors replaced it. Cancer. Appendicitis. Sepsis. (I read our family medical book with morbid curiosity.) Algebra. Geometry. (Math and I have never been close.) Never getting a boyfriend. Not being invited to parties. Showing up to school naked. (My dreams are still crazy.)
Adulthood manifested real life anxieties. Job searches. Bills. First dates. Breakups. Marriage. Pregnancies. Divorce. Single mom life. More bills. Buying my first home. Basement floods. Job loss. Dad’s decline and death. Mom’s decline….and, of course, those pesky bills.
Today’s quicksand is beyond horror. Our country is under attack from within. Federal programs gutted. Prices rising. Due process ignored. Minorities and women erased from history. Our Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid attacked. Free speech threatened. Science rejected. Siding with autocrats and dictators. Public education and libraries ripped apart. Megalomaniacs. Nazis. Bullies. A dystopian novel come to life. Real terrors.
How do I navigate this quicksand? Mostly I breathe. Then I attempt to do what I can. Send my senators and representative endless (and hopefully annoying) emails calling for them to honor the constitution. Boycott certain businesses that genuflect to the administration. Step away occasionally. Get outside. Send more emails. Contemplate local protests. Connect with my people.
Because here’s the truth. Tarzan or Dr. Quest are not around to rescue me. I must save myself, and therefore, attempt to save this messy, mixed up, crazy, and often beautiful life of mine. I’ll grab that rope, pull with what strength I still have, and gasp for air.
Because hope is a thing with feathers, not soul sucking sand.
Thanks, Christie! I remember the quicksand - especially on Tarzan and the Lone Ranger! And, yes, definitely feels like pits of quicksand in our country - when will it end? :-(
Loved the analogy, indeed life feels like it's littered with quicksand pits recently. Here's to saving ourselves and by extension the world :)