A Day at the Beach - by Donnie Wahlberg
I've come to an unusual realization about my memory. When I reflect on my bygone youthful days, I remember lots. But when I scrutinize particular past events or scenes, colors are vague, and feelings of an environment are nil. I just can't feel or even grasp these details. Of all of my memories, there is only one event where both these key elements are distinctly clear. Perhaps more clear than some other, rarely over looked details.
It must have been six years ago. On a very cold, overcast day in February. After a relentlessly tedious day in a barely heated classroom, immediately followed by an extremely long, teeth-chattering bus ride, I arrived, as I did every weekday afternoon, at the Y.M.C.A I recall tramping through the intensely cold snow and slush. Before I entered the cozy warm confines of the building, I watched the big yellow bus cautiously drive away. Leaving only a trail of black fog from its exhaust. Further darkening an already gray and gloomy day.
I soon took refuge in the warmth and friendliness of the Center. Unfortunately, my much awaited heat retreat was very short-lived. No sooner had I gotten warm and comfortable in the hot building than we (my friends and I) were suddenly, ungratefully notified that we were going to spend this unlovely afternoon at the Boston Common on the frozen pond. Music to my frostbitten ears. It is strange, but as badly as I needed heat and warmth, my overly adventurous heart yearned for fun and danger. Couple that with the fact that I had, until this time, not enjoyed myself a single bit, and I was off and sliding.
In we piled to the old blue Ford van. All 16 of us. We were lucky that the antiquated old ice box even started under such terrible circumstances. More lucky were we that the bald tires gripped the ground through the thick slush. We owed that to ourselves, seeing how our weight helped the sardine can hug the slick terrain. Warmth was supplied by every passenger's body heat. In a matter of minutes the van arrived, and out jumped a gang of wild kids who stormed through the snow and spilled onto the ice with reckless abandon.
Not long after we began slipping and twirling a few courageous friends and I ventured toward the thin ice. My risk-taking comrades and I were not shunned, warned, or even scared of the dangerous thin ice under the bridge. Being the ring leader left me the dangerous chore of approaching the paper-thin ice first. Carefully, I placed my right foot on the weaker side while balancing on my left foot, which was planted on the thicker side. I guess the thick part wasn't so thick either, for after a loud crack, the ice below me gave way and I began a rapid descent into the pond's ferociously freezing clutches. SPLASH! I was submerged from feet to chin in a subzero pool of ice. Terrified and extremely cold, I unsuccessfully tried to get the words "help me" from my chattering mouth. Carelessly, my "so-called" friends stood above me, curiously awed. Not laughing, crying, or helping-just watching. I struggled desperately to grasp something to pull myself out. Somehow I overcame my fear and shock, and crawled out of the numbing waters. I was totally shocked by the ice breaking, but even more astonished by my ex-comrades non-reaction to my spill.
After getting some late assistance and a few jackets to keep warm, I spent half an hour on a cold, stone bench. No longer dripping because the freezing water was now solidified into a suit of ice, I waited for the scrappy van to arrive. It's funny -- as I sat there freezing, dazed and cold, I got a weird feeling in my numb, but rapidly beating heart as I saw my friend Bobby. He was the pond's first victim, whom I had earlier ridiculed for not being smart, agile or just plain cool enough to avoid the freezing black water's clutches. Ironically, he was the first person to approach me offering help. Maybe misery loves company. I thought or perhaps just realized the seriousness of what had happened. The thought of his kindness brought something to me which I had not yet felt all day-warmth. I was truly touched by his show of kindness. He, unlike myself, acted like a true friend. And deep inside my frozen, shaking, and numbingly cold body was a rapidly beating heart gratefully accepting a kind friend's warmth.