Whatever happened to quicksand (and other childhood fears)?

The other day I was watching an old TV show, and one of the characters fell into quicksand, and it got me thinking: of all the things that I was afraid of when I was a kid (and I wasn't a particularly fearful kid, but I did have fears), three things topped the list - the Rapture, snakes, and quicksand.

The Rapture, for those who may not be familiar, is that point in the future when all current Christians are "caught up in the air,'' kind of like the Old Testament Enoch, who "walked with God and was no more," meaning he didn't die but was called directly up to be with God. We were taught that one day Christians would be walking, driving, working, shopping, eating, doing all those normal, everyday things that we all do, and then suddenly, poof! - or more Biblically, in the blink of an eye - they are gone.

When I was a kid both my parents worked, so after school I'd go home and then head out to play with the guys in the neighborhood, with the understanding I had to be home by 5:30, which is when my Mom typically got home from work. (I'm not sure when my Dad got home; in those days, he often went straight to a second job, or maybe he worked late, or something). So if I was not in my backyard playing football or in the driveway playing basketball (which were about the only two things we did back in the day), I was supposed to drop everything and be at home at 5:30 when my Mom got there.

However, there were those days - usually stormy days, when I had to stay inside - that my Mom wouldn't be home by 5:30. And sometimes it would get deathly quiet. And the clock would tick. And maybe there would be no cars on the street in front of our house. And when I looked out the windows I didn't see any signs of movement from my neighbors' houses. And I would have this horrible, sinking feeling that the Rapture had occured and I had been "left behind" (which, years later, would be the title of some very successful Rapture-related novels and movie).

Needless to say, I was terrified.

This was before cell phones, so I couldn't call my Mom to see where she was. It never occurred to me to pick up the phone and call someone, like my zealously-religious aunt who would never have let God hear the end of it if He'd made the inexcusable mistake of leaving her behind. And this was the time of three TV channels (four, if you counted PBS, which no one did), so it wasn't like I could dial in to CNN for an up-to-the minute report. And I had enough sense to know the stuff that was on TV was pre-recorded, so if all the TV engineers and programmers had been Raptured, these shows would continue to play until the non-Christians got in and changed them to shows glorifying violence and lying and being cruel and pornography, which is what I assumed would happen when all the Christians were taken from the world (as described by a rather frightening book I'd read called "In The Twinkling Of An Eye," which was a forerunner to the "Left Behind" series).

And about the time I had lost all hope, my Mom's car would come pulling into the driveway. But while you'd think I'd be running out to throw my arms around her, crying with joy and relief, I didn't. (If you think I should have been on my knees, praying for forgiveness, understand that by that time it was considered too late and while I could still become a Christian, I'd have to live through the seven years of Tribulation, so getting on my knees right then or the next day wouldn't have made a whole lot of difference). No, by the time my Mom hit the back door, I was back in "cool" mode, not letting her see that I was worried, casually doing something else as if I had not a care in the world.

It was only later that, I'm ashamed to admit, my sinful nature would take over and I'd be kind of sorry that the Rapture hadn't taken place, because it meant I would have to go to school the next day, and I would have to keep going to church on Sunday nights, missing the Wonderful World of Disney. Plus, that book "In the Twinkling ..." painted this picture of pure hedonism in the streets of every city, and as a boy I couldn't help but wonder just what previously veiled images I just might see.

Snakes: Snakes should be pretty self-explanatory. Who in their right mind isn't afraid of snakes? I mean, when God gets so mad at you he takes away your arms and legs and makes you crawl on your belly ... that's pretty serious (and why we used to call snakes "Mr. No-shoulders,'' as in 'don't go chasing that golf ball in the weeds because you might run into Mr. No-shoulders").

In high school, our church youth group used to go on these things we called "retreats" where we'd load up in the church bus and go off someplace, like the mountains of Gatlinburg, Tenn, (in the summer, when the rates were cheap; in the winter we'd go to the beach for the same reason). We'd often stay in hotels, with two double beds but four to a room.

And one night, three of the guys and I were in our room, talking (probably about what girls would be like after the Rapture) and I went over to pull back the covers on my side of the bed. As I did, I saw a snake curled up in the sheets, just lying there.

Now, I didn't visibly panic (even though I didn't want to). I didn't throw up (even though I could feel the bile in my throat). I didn't scream (my throat was too constricted to utter a sound).

What I did do was a pure act of cowardice: I simply put the blankets back over the snake, went to the far side of the room, and kept going like nothing had happened. I decided to wait until someone else pulled back the covers and let them deal with the snake. (But I admit I stayed close to the door, and my heart was pounding).

Sure enough, a few minutes later one of the guys went over, pulled back the sheets, and said, "Who put this in there?" and held up a long, rubber snake. We all laughed (although mine was kind of forced). But I still slept in the other bed.

The next day, we were on the bus, and several of the girls in our group asked me how I slept, if anything unusual happened. It turns out they, knowing my fear of snakes, had somehow got in and put this rubber snake in my bed, hoping to scare the you-know-what out of me. They were so disappointed to find out that one of the other guys apparently found the snake first, and that they didn't "get" me.

This is the first time I've ever admitted they did indeed "get" me, so if any of you are reading this: yes, you pulled off a good one!

Quicksand: Maybe you're thinking, quicksand? But when I was a kid, quicksand was everywhere. On TV, anyway.

I was watching a Rifleman re-run the other day (which is redundant, because they haven't made a new Rifleman episode since 1963 so of course it was a re-run), and some girl that Mark was kind of sweet on somehow fell in some quicksand, and then Mark fell in trying to help her, and just before they went under Lucas came and pulled them out. This wasn't unusual for TV back in my childhood. Tarzan movies (I was a huge Johnny Weissmueller fan) always seemed to have some episode involving quicksand. Cartoons like Road Runner would have characters falling into quicksand (and anvils falling from the sky, but that's another story). Cowboy shows like The Rifleman (which remains one of my favorite shows of all time, and thanks to AMC and DVR I can record and re-watch all 168 episodes) and Bonanza and Gunsmoke and The Big Valley almost always had an episode involving someone falling into quicksand. Even "The Princess Bride" has that scene in the Thieves Forest where Buttercup and Wesley are trapped in quicksand. And of course, there is the scene in Blazing Saddles where the railroad track ends in a bog of quicksand.

When I was a kid, I thought quicksand was everywhere, a very real threat that you had to watch out for. I remember reading tips on how to survive if you found yourself caught in quicksand (apparently, you lay back on your back and float and by increasing mass, you reduce the suction).

I am now grown up (I hesitate to call myself an adult). I have travelled a good deal of this country, both cities and suburbs and countryside and mountains and forests. I have been to Europe, and several Carribean islands (including Haiti, which seems like a natural place to find quicksand). My parents lived and worked in Africa for awhile. Never - and I repeat never - have I come across any quicksand, or know of anyone who has come across quicksand.

These days, you never ever even get a good quicksand scene in a movie or TV show. What the heck happened? Like polio and typhoid, did we manage to do away with the scourge of quicksand? Was this one of the great accomplishments of the 20th Century that we so take for granted that no one ever talks about it?

I no longer fear the Rapture. I've come to terms with snakes.

Quicksand? That's the one I feel most cheated by. And if I mysteriously disappear one day, with no trace, maybe I'll have finally found quicksand.

Unless it was the Rapture.