THE FROZEN POND

I was back in my hometown for a writing conference. As I usually did, I visited all the old stomping grounds and friends still in the area. However, a new destination had been added to my list. The scene of a tragedy a few years back beckoned to me, in spite of emotional misgivings. The backdrop was a small, close-knit, neighborhood community. The main character was an innocent, frozen pond with deep secrets hidden beneath.

This sleepy community was home to approximately residents. There was very little crime. It was comprised mostly of hard working families, middle class homes, a community swimming pool, and three feeder schools. Many of the educators and administrators who worked in these schools lived in the community as well. Thus, when tragedy struck, it deeply affected the lives of many who had come to know the victims in one way or another over the years.

Late in the afternoon on a chilly January day, three friends were on their way home from a team practice at the local high school. For whatever reason, they decided to take a short cut through the open space trail that led to the pond. Perhaps they were hungry or tired; perhaps they were in the mood for an adventure. Maybe they were distracted as they set foot on that pond. Maybe they were having an ordinary, every day conversation about an upcoming game, or girls, or classes and midterms. Walk across that frozen pond they did, sealing their fate for life. With a sickening crack, the ice gave way and the first boy fell through, plunging to his death. The second boy reacted without thought and dove in to save his friend. The third boy lay splayed out on his belly on the ice, frozen in terror. He screamed his friends' names, reaching for their hands. In a matter of minutes he was being rescued by first responders encouraging him to grasp a tree branch they held out for him. The first responders thought there was only one boy to rescue. The first boy was no longer visible. The puffy jacket of the second boy floated towards the top of the pond. They were shocked to learn by the growing crowd there were three boys involved. The scene quickly turned into a dive rescue.

The first two boys died; one at the scene, and one later at the hospital. Another boy lived, but no doubt carrying a heavy burden of survivor's guilt. One boy died a senseless death, the other died a hero's death. Now a community mourns. Two families are left to say goodbye and bury a beloved son whose life was cut far too short. Another family must deal with the psychological fallout this tragedy would surely bring upon their son. As is normal when tragedy strikes, questions abound. Why did the first boy not know how to swim? It seems to be a common skill set most kids have nowadays. Did they venture out onto the pond on a whim or dare, or prank? Were they truly just trying to get home as fast as possible? Did they sense any danger whatsoever, or were they feeling invincible as most of us did at that age? Do the dangers of a frozen pond warrant a discussion all parents should have with their children, or do we just assume they should already know this?

At the time of this tragedy I happened to be carting two teenagers back and forth to high school. I asked them if they would have known better. They both adamantly agreed. But when I asked if it would have stopped them, they could not be sure. We all do stupid, reckless things in our rebellious, teenage years. Why do some survive and some don't? I stared at this innocent pond on a cloudless, blue sky day in the spring wondering why I am so drawn to this body of water and it's story. The answers are obvious. It happened in my hometown. In addition, as a retired educator myself, I, too, have lost a former student to a senseless drowning. Attending the funeral with a casket so tiny makes one's mind spin with why and how and who is to blame. This can be a cruel, unfair world the likes of which I will never understand in my short lifetime. So, for now, I will enjoy the warm sun reflecting off this pond filled with life, and remember the lives it took; the potential that could have been.