The Day Daddy Fell into the Pond

Ever had one of those days when you feel so good that you find yourself wondering how long it's going to last? Or more skeptically, you wonder when the roof is going to collapse?

Glorious days that seem to come to life from a Norman Rockwell painting, postcard days that could have been in the background when that cowboy in "Oklahoma" was singing, "Oh What a Beautiful Morning," days that might someday be featured in ESPN's Top Ten Days Ever -- days like that are rare, far and few between.

When you wake up smiling, the ache you had yesterday is gone, your spouse feeds you breakfast in bed, and the kids are singing selections from Sound of Music while they're cleaning the house, and then someone comes to the door to announce that you won the Sweepstakes ... those are days that you cherish.

And so it was, one fine spring day shortly after I moved down here to the Old North State, I was having one of those kinds of days. At least, the first half of the day had been glorious, and all I had to do was to hang on for the remaining few hours and it would be one of the better days in my then still young life.

The sky was blue, I loved my job (working for Data General, the company featured in Tracy Kidder's Pulitzer Prize winning book, "Soul of a New Machine"), and I was still feeling the newlywed glow -- it was just a day where I felt great. I hadn't won the lottery or anything like that, but I could walk into my office and yell, "Wheeeee," because I was having so much fun.

You would be hard pressed to find a better thing to do on a day like that than to go with your colleagues on a picnic lunch at the breathtakingly beautiful Duke Gardens on the Duke University campus. The azaleas were in full bloom, the bluebirds were whistling on my shoulder, and Mary Poppins was singing that supercalifrejilestickespyalidocious song (hmm, my spell checker doesn't like that word). All was right with the world.

After lunch, my manager Scott suggested we take a longer lunch and throw the frisbee on the large open field at the Gardens. I had brought my frisbee just in case, so I was ready for some fun. Scott, Ben, and I were playing, making beautiful long throws that were highlighted by the sunshine glinting off the frisbee as it whirled against the deep blue Carolina sky.

I threw to Scott, Scott threw to Ben, Ben threw to me, and then again, I threw to Scott, Scott threw to Ben, and Ben threw ... way over my head.

I was in pretty good shape in those days, so I turned and ran, determined to show off my speed and athletic prowess by chasing down the spinning disk. I saw it ahead of me, moving quickly but staying aloft, and I knew with confidence I'd be able to track it. I kept my focus on it in case it wanted to start drifting to the left or right.

The frisbee and I were converging! I lengthened my stride a bit to make sure I would get there, and the frisbee slowly began lowering from the skies. I ran and ran and ...

Whoa!

There, immediately in front of me, was the big goldfish pond. I was still running full speed and this pond was not more than five feet from me. I slammed on the brakes and stopped right on the very edge of the pond. My toes were over the edge.

And here came the frisbee. At the same moment I stopped, I also reached up and whisked the frisbee out of the air, stretching as far upward as I ...

Uh oh!

I had stretched perhaps a bit too far. I was leaning forward just an iota, just a smidgen, but just enough that I knew I was headed for some water.

In that fraction of a second before I hit water, I made a mental calculation that the water looked like it may be two feet deep at the most. Not bad. So my feet and legs locked into position, anticipating a landing about two feet below the water surface. Of course, in the murky goldfish pond I couldn't see the bottom. The two feet was just a guess, but I thought it was reasonable.

Whoosh!

I was wrong.

The pond was approximately four feet deep. I ended up tumbling all the way under water, completely submerged. What a shock!

I quickly climbed back out of the pond. And yes, I had caught the frisbee and was still hanging on to it.

My boss was doubled over in laughter. Ben was doubled over in laughter. And the man who had been on a riding lawn mower was off the machine, on the ground, laughing so hard that he was pounding the grass with his fist.

It was one of those moments when you try to laugh at yourself because everyone else is already laughing at you, but the self-laugh comes out as a sort of stilted, "Ha (pause) ha (pause) ha."

I spent the rest of the afternoon totally soaked and dripping in my office. Fortunately I had no meetings that afternoon. I don't think I got much work done ... I was pondering about how the day had been beautifully perfect up to that point. And I wondered ...

In Oklahoma, right after he sings the song about the beautiful morning, does he ride into a low-hanging branch and get knocked off his horse?

Or in Sound of Music, as Julie Andrews is running across the mountain meadow, does she end up tripping and tumbling down a steep slope (and presumably colliding with the nun who is climbing every mountain)?

I usually have an optimistic outlook on life, and I tend to enjoy most every moment. But when things are going too well, I start hedging my bets and looking around for that pond. If it's around somewhere, I'll find it!