Quicksand

The 80’s were a great decade, weren’t they? In a freeform, poetry-slam, stream-of-consciousness spew, I give you a bunch of reasons this was the greatest decade since, well, at least the 50’s or 60’s…

• Rubik and his Cube; He-man and his sword; Michael Knight and his talking car, KITT
• The A-team and their van; Michael and his Jacksons; The Duke Boys and their cousin Daisy, of course. (And you thought I was gonna mention their car)
• The golden ages of Star Wars, pro wrestling, and shopping malls
• John flippin’ Hughes, Phil freakin’ Hartman, and the birth of Homer Simpson
• E.T., The Gremlins, The Goonies, and Indiana Jones
• Computers went from, like filling up airplane hangars to sitting on your desktop
• Montana to Rice, The Lakers and the Celtics, Bird and Magic
• Beastie Boys, Joy Division, New Order, Bauhaus, Talking Heads, Rush, The Smiths, Run-DMC, REM, firehose, U2, and so on, and so on, and so on.
• Eight-track died, CD’s were born, and there was plenty of vinyl and cassette tape for everyone
• Prince was in his prime, and Madonna was still tolerable
• 10 speed bikes, skateboards, hair mousse; wearing neon anywhere and anytime you pleased
• Ice cream cones at Thrifty Drug: twenty-five cents plus ten cents for each extra scoop. I am personally responsible for making the ice cream lady’s forearms look like Popeye’s!

I could go on and on. I was born in 1970—so I did a lot of living, learning, and growing in the 80’s. I talk about this decade the way my parents talked about the fifties—only when I was a kid, candy bars were a quarter, not a nickel; though in both eras we all wore Converse Chuck Taylors (heck I still wear my Chucks).

The 80’s was still a pretty innocent time too, compared to today. As kids, ten or twelve years old, we’d go out hiking and biking and exploring all day, get home for dinner, then go roam the neighborhood for a couple more hours ‘til our moms would call us home, like runaway dogs. Only runaway dogs got in less trouble.

But back then, getting into trouble meant swiping an apple off a neighbor’s tree, or TP’ing a friend’s house, or having dirt clod fights. (What, you never pulled up a weed in the backyard and hucked it, mud-caked roots and all, at your buddy, yelling out ‘hand grenade?’)

Today’s trouble is, well, trouble. Kids make the news for stealing cars and planes and stuff. In the 80’s, if you got on TV it was usually because you guessed how many jelly beans were in the giant jar at Alpha-Beta, or your soccer team won the big game.

Anyway, I don’t want to get deep into the cultural, technological, or philosophical reasons for the decline of kid-hood, or whether my observations are true, statistically or scientifically speaking. But I do want to tell you about some real trouble I did get into with my brothers and friends in the early 80’s. It started with a typical adventure in the hills above our neighborhood, in Martinez, California.

We lived on a pretty typical suburban road; in fact, with a name like Center Street, you couldn’t get much more typical. We had houses and houses on each side of our home, and across the street, more houses faced ours. Behind those houses, however, there were fields and hills like you just don’t see much of anymore, at least not in the Bay Area.

We’d hike those hills, sharpening bamboo stalks into spears for protection, carrying walking sticks and homemade slings. I’m not sure what kind of trouble we were anticipating, as we saw no creature more threatening than a lizard or mouse or squirrel, but we were armed and ready for anything.

This particular summer day, our friends Aaron and Chris joined my brothers Mike, Rusty and me on a trek in the hills. As we poked around, looking for cool rocks to collect, animals to track, or trees to climb, we heard a cry for help up ahead—Aaron was in trouble! As we ran up to him, we could see he was in some muddy sludge and was stuck knee deep and, we feared, sinking fast.

TV had taught us all we needed to know about quicksand!

TV had taught us what we were dealing with – it was quicksand! Now, I haven’t bothered to research the natural properties and geological characteristics of quicksand in a scholarly manner. I don’t need to, as I have seen its occurrence in different settings, in various parts of the country. Specifically, on The Six Million Dollar Man, The Dukes of Hazzard, and Gilligan’s island. That was enough evidence for us to know we were dealing with the real thing!

Aaron had the good sense to stop wiggling and fighting it—we knew that was a recipe for disaster, and he’d be a goner for sure, sinking in further and further. And there was no bionic man around to save us; in fact, we were a good mile or more from home, or any houses for that matter. We were in the quicksand-riddled boondocks. We got close to him, but not too close—there was no sense in all of us sinking to our necks in this stuff.

Putting our collective eight to twelve-year old heads together, we grabbed our walking sticks and another nearby branch and stretched them out toward the helpless victim. We braced the sticks, pooling our strength to give Aaron something rigid to grab hold of and pull himself out. For what seemed like ages, we pulled and pulled and finally freed him from his doom.

The only casualty that day was Aaron’s right tennis shoe, and though we poked and prodded with our sticks, it was a goner. We made our way back home, Aaron enduring briars and rocks with his muddy stocking-foot. I’m sure his mom wasn’t pleased with the loss of his shoe, and may not have seen the big picture—we had rescued him from certain death! However, in the end, we were all okay, and we were sure to avoid the pit of quicksand on future adventures.

So what made me think of Aaron’s brush with doom? I’m not sure, actually. But I have tried to become increasingly aware lately of things I do that waste my time, waste my energy, or otherwise halt my progress. I’m guessing you have your own personal pools of quicksand too. What are these quicksand traps, and what tools of defense do I wield to prevent their overcoming me?

• Multitasking. If I am doing too much at once, bouncing between Outlook and OneNote and funny internet stuff, I am doomed, and sink into a pit of ineffectiveness. Before I know it, an hour or a day have gone by, with me checking lots of menial tasks off my list, but not accomplishing any work that is real or critical. To prevent it, my desktop background has a question in big, bold, type: “What is my focus today?” Believe it or not, it helps!


• Failure to prioritize. Like the muddiness of multitasking, failure to prioritize ensures activity without impact, busy-ness without progress and growth. How do I combat this? Lately, by asking myself this questions: “What is the most uncomfortable thing I need to do today?” Sometimes I have trouble seeing what is truly the most ‘important’ thing in my list of to-do’s. However, I can always easily identify the one I most dread. Getting it out of the way first makes the rest of the day go smoother—I can see things much more clearly without anxiety sapping my spirit.
  
  
• Forgetting myself. I get into periods where I fail to exercise regularly, or I pay no attention to what I eat—I am the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world in yo-yo dieting. I’ve gotten pretty good at staying engaged in the other areas of my life—studying scriptures, reading good books, praying regularly. Maybe you could throw me a rope here, and help me figure this fitness piece out?

The good news about quicksand? It’s easily beatable, if you travel in packs and watch out for it. Had Aaron encountered that pit while wandering on his own, he might still be there, or at the very least lost both of his shoes.

What are your pits of quicksand, and how do you combat them?