The Encounter

I was about six years old when I first discovered sharks. I was laying at the foot of my parents bed watching tv in their bedroom as was our pre-bedtime ritual. We had just gotten cable for the first time and had a channel called HBO. My parents were watching a movie and my eyes were glued to the television, watching a shark terrorize patrons at an amusement park. I would later learn that the film was called Jaws 3, and it was indelibly etched into my memory. I cheered as the shark was blown to bits at the end and my parents declared it was time to go to bed.

As a six-year-old boy with an overactive imagination, bedtime horrified me. All manners of creatures would manifest themselves from my imagination in the darkness. That night as my father closed the door leaving me in darkness, I remembered the giant shark tearing everything apart from the movie. But there was a part of me that was fascinated as well. I closed my eyes tight, afraid I was going to see a giant mouth opening towards me out of the darkness. That was when I decided I would not be afraid of the giant shark.

“Jaws is my friend, and he’s going to eat the other monsters,” I said to the dark feeling confident. And with that statement I was no longer afraid of the shark and that night’s terrors were behind me. The next day I asked my mother to take me to the library and we took out three books on sharks. I was hooked, pardon the pun. I quickly went through all the books the library had and I was starving for more knowledge.

My grandfather spent almost all of his spare time either fishing or gardening and I began to pester him about if he’d ever seen sharks while fishing. He said he had seen them every once in a while and I hung on every word. It was the consensus of everyone in our family that I would spend time fishing with my grandfather that summer

My grandfather’s favorite place to fish was a small beach with an island off the coast. You could walk out to the island on the sandbar when the tide was low, but when the tide came in the strong current kept you on the island until the next low tide if you could not make it back in time. My grandfather would pack a lunch and get to the beach at the first low tide of the day. We would walk out to the island, around the island, and then hurry back to beat the oncoming high tide. We would then bait and cast our rods and see what would bite. Sometimes nothing would bite, but we usually walked away with at least a few snapper blues.

During our long walks and fishing sessions my grandfather and I became extremely close. He regaled me with stories of the things he had done, his time in the Navy during World War II, and he consistently fed my desire to learn about sharks. I looked forward to every one of those trips that summer.

As the summer was ending, I dreaded returning to school. I had forged a strong bond with my grandfather that summer, and hated that when the school year started I would be seeing less of him. On the last day of summer, my grandfather picked me up at the usual time. We pulled away from the house and began driving. I was quiet for a change, and deep in thought. I was sad that my summer with my grandfather was coming to an end, and I was also disappointed that we had not seen any sharks in a whole summer of fishing. I watched the trees pass by as we drove and realized that we were not going the way we usually did.

“Where are we going Grandpa?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“We’re going to get McDonald’s for breakfast, and I have to make another stop on the way,” he replied with a smile. McDonald’s breakfast was one of my favorite things in the world so that perked me up quickly. I could almost taste the Hash Browns at the mention of McDonald’s…… We stopped for breakfast and talked while we ate. When the meal was done, we got back in the car and drove on. After what seemed like forever, we pulled into the parking lot of a large building. My heart started pounding with excitement as I read the giant white word on the side of the building: AQUARIUM.

“Grandpa?” I asked him breathlessly.

“Well, since we didn’t see any sharks while fishing, I figured I couldn’t let you go back to school until you’d seen one,” he said and chuckled heartily. My grandfather had a way of chuckling that just made everyone around him feel good. We walked into the main lobby and paid the admission. We took our time working our way through the aquarium, and I genuinely enjoyed looking at all the other things on display. From fish and alligators to old nautical navigation devices. But in the back of my head, it was all just a prelude to the shark tank.

When we came to the shark display, it was a beautiful thing for me to see. The tank was enormous with a giant habitat in the center of it. The room was dimly lit, and the display cast off a blue light. There were several rows of seats for people to sit and observe. I saw my first shark and felt my heart race as I identified it as a sand tiger shark. I could tell from the dark markings on its back and the conical snout.

My grandfather and I sat there for most of the day, watching the sharks and talking. We gave all the sharks names and back stories. He chuckled as I made each shark have a progressively more ridiculous backstory. Eventually of course it was time to leave. As we walked out the door, I hugged my grandfather hard.

“Thank you,” I said choking back the tears. He hugged me back and a million words passed between us. He had given me the best summer I could have ever asked for. Now, in hindsight, I hope I gave him the best summer he ever had, because it had been his last.

THE END