Shark!

There are sharks, alligators, and snakes where I'm going. My chances of encountering any of them is good, but my chances of being bitten or attacked is slim. Still. The idea makes me pause. When I was four or five years old, and my brother was still in diapers, we went to Sea World. This would be in the 50s remember. Not the same as today. There was a huge tank there, filled with sharks. You could walk over to the railing and look into it, which my parents did. My father then picked up my brother, who was crying about something, and held him over the shark tank, threatening to drop him in if he didn't quit crying. My mother became hysterical, which made me cry. He looked at me and told me I would be next if I didn't stop crying. My next memory is me running through the crowd which was gathering, and the blue clad legs of a policeman in front of me. I don't know what happened next, but the incident became a story which my mother told repeatedly over the rest of our lives, and laughed. Maybe it was funny because she'd cry if it weren't. Maybe she was in denial. I just know that sharks, the idea of them out there...bothers me to this day.