Bryce Canyon, Utah, Sept. 05
Hurricane Agnes hit in June, 1972, flooding every inch of low land from the Twin Tiers in New York to Scranton , PA. The mall where I worked was on higher ground and wasn’t touched. It was the only set of stores in nearly 100 miles. So we had a lot of business. In fact, we had all the business. The National Guard was called out to help with traffic and monitoring for looting and that sort of thing, so a lot of off-duty National Guard frequented the mall. Just up the walkway was a pool and fountain where people stopped, threw in pennies and made a wish. I never understood why people believe that if you toss a perfectly good penny into clear water they’ll get their wish. (Nobody ever throws pennies into muddy water and makes a wish). Do they think there’s a Clear Water Fairy who really likes Lincoln ’s face and grants wishes as soon as one plops in? Over the pool was a patio type structure with connecting steps so you could walk up on the patio and cast your pennies from even higher, maybe thus getting an even bigger wish. At Christmas, Santa sat on the patio and held terrified babies and greedy four-year-olds. Four months later the Easter Bunny gave out treats. One day in July, I rushed out of the Pipe Den following a woman’s screams. She screamed, then yelled “No! No! Oh God, no!” She continued this. A crowd gathered around. She was a young woman and her husband was young, too. Her pretty face was distorted by horror and disbelief. He lay on the tile floor. Her screams held the memories of first love, marriage, moments together. They held the plans of a home, children, high school, college, middle age. The cries were those of a woman who suddenly was confronted with the fact that the past was immobile and the future nonexistent. How do you handle that moment when you realize that everything in the past is all that exists. The present is a nightmare and the future is gone. You scream. You scream at God. How did this happen? Why? And you don’t get any answers. Some National Guard guys quickly came to the scene and pushed the crowd back. They pulled her away and checked the husband. He had been leaning over the rail of the patio and fell, head first. It wasn’t a long fall, maybe six feet, but enough to break his neck. He was dead. In the larger picture, each of us has to go, and we each do it in our own unique, very personal way. But in that moment, with a woman’s agonized screams echoing throughout the mall, you had to ask why. I never found out if he had thrown a penny into the pool.
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