Always Be Prepared

My son was studying for finals last week, and the night before he was scrambling to contact someone that could help him. He couldn’t reach the teacher and the study group was nowhere to be found. Thus, he got the standard Mom Lecture #5873 about the importance of being well prepared. Don’t run right up to the wire and have nothing to fall back on.

So I’m standing in my back yard after the rain, watching my husband scrubbing out the canoe. A canoe that I have only scuttled around in a bit in recent years, not being able to bring myself to go back in our Louisiana bayous with the same gusto since the incident several years ago.

We loved to canoe. Our first dates were packing a picnic lunch and paddling down Dorcheat while he manned the paddles and I dangled my foot in the water like a girl in a romance novel. We even spent hours and hours one Saturday lost in the gravel pits below I-20. Luckily we ran into a cowboy stuck in the mud. We offered help and he provided directions. A very fair exchange. But then we floated down Dorcheat one day when my boys were still small and my foot dangling ended forever.

We took two canoes. My husband and son in one and me and my younger son in the other. As we paddled through the afternoon we came upon an island and had the great idea to split up and meet on the other side. I was fine with that. I was a seasoned canoe expert and could wield an oar with the best of them. We split apart and I paddled along my way.

A few minutes later, my little boy points out a log sticking out of the water. Then the log seemed to be swimming. And growing. It grew a reptilian head, a bumpy, long back, and then it grew a tail. And it swam up even with us, but stayed on the other side.

I remained calm although about 17 million scenarios were running through my head. My Discovery Channel expert was perched on the bow and began shuffling in agitation as he realized it was a ten foot long alligator that had decided to spend the day with us. I told him in my sweetest Mom voice to please stay still. We were okay. While I was in a cold sweat and praying he didn’t tip the boat over.

As the current carried us along I fretted as to what to do if our new friend decided he was hungry. I didn’t have a gun. I would have to remember to bring a bazooka the next time we went boating. I didn’t have a knife. So there was no possibility that if he attacked my precious little boy that I could leap on his back, wrestle him with superhuman strength, flip him over, and stab him in his underbelly just like Crocodile Dundee. My son was big enough that I knew I couldn’t run at breakneck speeds while carrying him far enough to outrun a reptile that was known for speed. And my six year old Discovery Channel would have at least another ten years before he would become a bona fide Steve Irwin where I could stop my mental panic and just ask him what in the heck to do.

My only recourse seemed to be to beat him to death with my oar, but that didn’t seem to have much merit. My oar beating would only make him dislike me, but still look just as tasty.

We were saved by a man on a jetski that I still believe was heaven sent. As he plowed through the water with enough loud chaos to scare off every creature within 3 states, the alligator turned and swam away. We then met up on the other side with a perfectly peaceful husband and son who unsympathetically complained that I paddled the rest of the 2 hour trip in 30 minutes flat.

But for Christmas that year, my best gift was my own personal Crocodile Dundee giant sized knife. Now this time if I had a reptilian guest, my steel was sharpened, and I spent the next 3 months in my den perfecting my superhuman gator flipping. I had certainly learned the importance of, in all aspects of life, always being prepared. Maybe next Christmas, I’ll get the bazooka.