Manic Monday—A Crisis at the Caverns

Yes, Sunday was Share A Square Day in Denton, and I know some of you are anxiously awaiting an update. You are just going to have to hold your horses. I have some pictures to re-size and some links to track down before I can put it together. Later today, or in the morning, I’ll tell you all about it.

I’ve been chomping at the bit since Friday to write a post for the Manic Monday meme. For those of you unfamiliar with it, on Fridays Mo, at It’s a Blog Eat Blog World, gives us all a one word writing prompt. We are to take that word, mull it over, and write a post. This week the word is “drop,” and I’ve been chewing on it all weekend. I’m dropping everything to put together this post.

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Do y’all have a favorite vacation from your childhood that stands out from all the rest? For me, it was The Summer We Went to California. My Daddy got what he called a “wild hair” to visit his old Navy buddies. They lived in exotic places like Albuquerque, New Mexico and on the coast of California. That may not sound exotic to you, but for unworldly little kids from Grapevine, Texas (whose only experience of the world at large came on the screen of a television) this was a Major Adventure!

My Daddy rented a camping trailer, hitched it to the station wagon, piled the car full of four kids, their comic books, two Great Dane dogs and a Toy Pekingese, and drove us off down the highway. I know he regretted his decision to take us on this trip by the time we reached the Texas State Line. As soon as we lost the radio signal for our local station, my sister and I drove everyone crazy singing our rendition of “I’m Henery the Eight, I Am” (as made popular by Herman’s Hermits). We bounced in our seats, begging him to stop at every Stuckey’s, ostensibly so we could go to the bathroom. Really, we just wanted to buy cheap trinkets.

My brothers were collecting pennants to hang on the walls of their rooms. I was buying sterling silver charms to put on my charm bracelet (my most prized possession at the time). This dainty bracelet had at least 100 tiny figures dangling from it. I never took it off, even to sleep. It jingled on my wrist constantly and drove everyone nuts. I fiddled with it when I was nervous, I sorted the charms when I was bored, I admired it as I sat thinking. My Daddy constantly shouted, “Michele, leave that #x* #!**!# bracelet alone!” What can I tell you? I adored that bracelet. I must have added another 20 charms to it that summer.

There were many adventures packed into the two week trip, including a side trip to the Grand Canyon, an excursion in Mesa Verde, visits to theme parks like Knott’s Berry Farm and Pacific Ocean Park (P.O.P.), and a foray into Juarez, Mexico. I can’t for the life of me figure out how my Daddy had time to shoot the breeze with his buddies. My parents gave all of us memories for a lifetime on that vacation. But, they were overshadowed by my Crisis At The Caverns!

One of our last stops on the way home was at Carlsbad Caverns, in New Mexico, where a tour guide led us deep into the bowels of the earth. The coolness of the caverns was a welcome relief from the unrelenting summer heat. The landscape of the caverns seemed as foreign to us as the surface of the moon, with huge stalactites dripping from the ceilings and stalagmites growing from the floor. Yes, those cavern rooms were awesome, like something out of a fairy tale, but to tell the truth I was a little frightened by the experience.

The trails were slippery, and I kept falling down. I was certain one of those stalactites was going to fall when I walked under it and spear me through the heart (I even envisioned my funeral with my friends all gathered to weep over my coffin). The guide showed us an abyss, and told us that they had no idea how deep that hole was. He said that if an item was dropped down that hole, you would never hear it hit the bottom! I jostled my sister so I could peer down the hole, tightly gripping the railing, of course. As we continued the tour, my mind conjured images of me falling down that hole and dropping all the way to China! It could have happened, you know, because I had leaned out pretty far and my sister was pushing me. If I had fallen down that hole, they never could have had my funeral. The very thought of dropping down that hole made my heart race.

I don’t know how other people react when they are fearful, but when I get frightened I chatter non-stop. If you have never been in a cavern before, let me just tell you that sound carries very well. Everyone was trying to shush me so that they could hear the tour guide. But, I kept running off at the mouth. Consequently, when the guide seated us in the Big Room, I didn’t hear a word he was saying about “total darkness.” Imagine my surprise when they turned out the lights! I shrieked like a banshee! That wail echoed in the caverns for at least five minutes. I’m surprised the stalactites didn’t shatter and fall to the floor.

To comfort myself, I reached for my charm bracelet to fiddle with it. My charm bracelet was gone! As I hyperventilated, my Momma said, “Calm down. Think! When was the last time you saw it?”

The last time I had seen it on my wrist was when I gripped the railing to lean over that endless hole! “OoooOOOOH!” I wailed. “My bracelet dropped down that hole!” My grief was inconsolable. They had to drag me out of the cavern.

The guide assured me that probably it didn’t drop down the hole. Probably, it was on the path somewhere. Someone would find it, and they would mail it to me. I didn’t believe him, but I clutched that hope to my heart and promised my whole $5.00 allowance as a reward.

The rest of the trip is a tear stained blur in my memory. For the next two weeks, all I did was weep as I envisioned my beloved bracelet dropping in the darkness and never hitting the bottom. I didn’t eat; I didn’t sleep; I just moaned.

Two weeks later, a package arrived from Carlsbad Caverns. Yes, I got my bracelet back! I was overjoyed. I had a reason to live again. The world was a beautiful place! Someone had found that charm bracelet in the big room in the cavern (it must have fallen off my arm while I was busy screaming). A letter inside gave me the name of the saint who had found my bracelet so that I could send them a thank you note.

I meant to do that.

I really did.

But, somehow writing a thank you note got put on the back burner in my childhood world. I feel guilty to this very day that I never wrote that note.

So, if you found a charm bracelet in Carlsbad Cavern back in the 1960s and never got a thank you note from the snotty nose little kid who lost it, I apologize. You really did make me happy and I was extremely grateful (as was my Daddy, because I finally quit whining). I should have written, but I dropped the ball on that one.

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That’s not the first time I’ve “dropped the ball” on thank you cards, and it won’t be the last. In fact, with this Share A Square program going on, this is just a drop in the bucket! If you haven’t received my thanks, I’m working on it. Please know that I am extremely grateful; and 140 kids at Camp SanguinityCancer Camp will be grateful next June when they receive these crocheted afghans you have made.

Other posts you might enjoy:

1. Manic Monday. Beauty Is Only Skin Deep
2. Ghost Tour Of Galveston
3. Manic Monday. My Mind Is Off Track.
4. Manic Monday. “Orange” Means It’s Halloween.
5. Manic Monday–Dear Abby, I’m Clueless

Tagged as: life lesson, Manic Monday, Memories, Storytelling