Why my dad asked that he never be shown this photo again.
Photographs are powerful because they not only capture what happened at a particular moment in time, but also they remind us what could have happened if things had turned tragically different. For my parents, and especially my Dad, this photo of me digging a hole in the sand was something that haunted him the rest of his life.
My memory of our trip to the Outer Banks in 1972 is fragmented as you would expect from a 10-year-old kid. However, I do remember digging this huge hole on the beach as our family lounged nearby. Probably out of boredom and with a touch of OCD thrown in I wanted to see how deep I could go. What could go wrong? Exactly what could have gone wrong.
As I say, my memories of what happened are only quick snippets. I simply can't fill in the gaps that would answer some key questions.
I remember sitting at the bottom of this impressive hole and thinking it would be very cool to now dig horizontally. I pictured digging a tunnel that would go out under the ocean. I had an overactive imagination, and shortly demonstrated no concept of sound structural engineering.
In the picture you can see I started digging my tunnel. At some point I decided I would go in feet first and excavate, rather than headfirst. The tunnel opening came up to my chest as I lay on my back and scooped sand.
I can still see the cracks spreading upwards as the unsupported sand above my tunnel collapsed on top of me with a thud. The sand covered me up to my chest pinning me tightly at the bottom of this hole.
Had I continued digging the tunnel head first I probably wouldn't have been heard screaming when the sand buried me.
How long I was trapped, and who eventually rescued me, will remain unknown because I have no dependable memory. I do think my younger brother, John, was the one who alerted my parents. I have only a split-second visual of looking up and seeing my parents, and some strangers looking down at me. After that---nothing.
Years later our family was sitting around the living room with friends showing slides. The image of me in that hole appeared. I remember my Dad abruptly got up with an expression that told us he was rattled.
Before he left the room he said that he never wanted to see that picture again. He never talked about the photo or incident again, but I imagined why it caused such a reaction for my parents.
As an adult I have a better understanding why that photo affected him. It was a picture that served as a powerful reminder the line between good and bad outcomes is a thin one.
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