The summer of 1982: so many years ago, so many memories faded into the horizon. I was a
freshly minted college graduate, oblivious to anything other than the pleasures of a
summer holiday in Hawaii. My brothers both lived in the Aloha state, and spending a few
months there after graduating seemed like an appropriate reward for finishing school. My
Dad was aghast at my "immaturity" of not jumping immediately into a job, I was selfishly
feeling a multi month vacation was an earned reward.
I spent a good portion of August in Maui, and loved to immerse myself in late afternoon
skin diving adventures. At the ripe age of 22, thoughts of protection and self
preservation rarely cropped up - I was simply living in a Jimmy Buffett state of suspended
animation. One particular afternoon found me out chasing rainbow fish in the middle of a
long and luxurious coral reef, and I spotted a family of king size turtles. These guys
were huge. I followed the turtles along the edge of the reef, darting in and out of
multicolored coral formations. I was mesmerized by the size of these turtles, and became
somewhat hypnotized as I kept following them on their journey. The reef dropped
precipitously at that point, 150 feet or so into dark blue water. The meandering trail I
took following the turtles took me probably a mile and a half away from the shore, but
hey, I was 22, without a care in the world.
At the edge of the reef, I followed the path that the turtles took into the deep water.
They dove into the dark void, and I followed suit, probably getting about 18-20 feet deep
before my mask started swelling a bit too tight from the water pressure. I bid farewell to
my shelled friends, and watched them fade into the dark as I aimlessly floated back up for
air.
As I got near the surface, clamoring for any more adventures, I looked up at the
underside of a mammoth sized shark. As the years have gone by and the memory has both
faded and etched into my memory, I really cannot give an accurate reading of the length of
the beast. It was unquestionably longer than I was, much wider than I was, and much more
at ease with its situation than I was. I was fighting the biological need I had for air
with the sheer terror of being within 10 feet of this warrior and not having any idea of
what to do. I vividly remember the sense of my body emanating fear, fear, and more fear,
and somewhere through the stress I remember learning from old text books that these
animals have the ability to sense another mammal's fear. The only cohesive thought I
remembered (from who knows where) was that a shark could pick up on the vibration of a
flailing screaming body, so staying rigidly still as I floated up for air was my only
smart move.
I contorted my body into a semi ball, still floating higher and higher, eventually
getting within a foot or so of the surface, and my lungs were giving in from no oxygen. At
last I lunged up, grabbed a big breath of air, and I was astounded and numbed to see how
far that mile and a half to the shore looked now. I stuck my head and mask back down into
the water immediately, frantically looking for the predator. I dog paddled a semi circle,
head buried in the water, terrified to not know where he was, sensing more and more fear
rolling out my skin like perspiration. Finally I saw him, aimlessly moving away from me,
away from me, away from me. I started to fantasize over his departure from the scene, when
he slowly started banking into a turn, probably about 35 or 40 yards from my location. I
can close my eyes today and see that turn, moving in slow motion, through lots and lots of
glimmering silt and streams of light. The turn proceeded, and there was no doubt that he
was circling back towards me, moving with patience and with purpose.
Lots of idle thoughts moving through my head. How do I prepare myself for an attack?
What to do next? I remembered to stay still, but every ounce of me wanted to scream,
flail, whatever. Again, a memory out of some remote book came to mind that if a shark
doesn't like a first bite of something it will turn away, and that if you make that first
bite a fin or something besides human flesh it may end up departing. I wriggled my fin off
of my foot, and wondered if I would have the nerve to shove the rubbery appendage into a
shark mouth if it opened wide. (I doubt I could have pulled that one off.) Slowly, slowly,
slowly... The shark is moving towards me. As it gets closer the steely glare of his cold
eyes are checking me out. I remember simultaneous thoughts of dreamily saying goodbye to
my Mom with practical considerations of the sharks hunger at that moment. I should have
been praying but I was just trying to breathe.
After either 30 seconds, or 3 minutes, or 3 hours, the shark reached its closest point
to me, probably about 3-4 feet. Its eyes did not break contact with mine. It knew it was
in control of the situation. It kept its slow, methodical pace and aimlessly drifted by my
side. I deliriously watched it move farther and farther away, and I started quietly
paddling towards the safe haven of the reef. I turned my head, and squinted through the
mask, waiting for his next turn and assault towards me. He kept going straight, fading,
fading, drifting into black, never to be seen again...
My slow paddle towards the reef starting picking up in pace as I got closer to the safe
haven of the reef, and then broke into a full on freestyle sprint as I realized I was
completely out of danger. I stammered up to the shore, and felt like Christopher Columbus
kissing the ground after discovering new lands. My friends, still in the blissful state
that I had been in for duration of the vacation, were trying to figure out what was up
with me. After listening to me pant through my story, they were convinced I was making the
whole thing up. The depth of my conviction finally swayed their skepticism, and they
realized I had gone through a horrifying experience.
Four hours later, roaming through the streets of Lahaina, the haunting memory of those
steely eyes glaring at me. I settled into a nice restaurant in the center of town. I could
not even afford an appetizer at this place, much less a full-on main course, but I treated
myself to a fine dinner (shark, of course) and hoped that a fine meal and a few Heinekens
would wipe my slate clean of the horrific memory. It didn't work, and to this day the
memory still remains.
Jack York is co-founder and president of
It's Never 2 Late. After spending 16
years in the high tech industry, Jack became enamored with creative ways to link older
adults with technology and founded the company in 1999. IN2L is a high-tech yet high-touch
program for enhancing quality of life and quality of care for seniors, particularly
seniors with physical or cognitive disabilities. Their program combines powerful yet
friendly, ability-adaptive, mobile PCs with the hands-on guidance of caring mentors.
Elders in nursing homes, assisted living communities and adult day programs are empowered
to connect and communicate online, to immerse themselves in rich multimedia experiences,
to play, explore, create, to revisit and document their histories. In short, to be engaged
in a multitude of ways that help them remain physically and mentally active. They have
programs active in several states, and have connected thousands of older adults throughout
the last 6 years.
