There is a drain pipe that drains from Lake Palestine into the Neches River, between Bullard and Frankston, TX.
It has to be about 10 feet in diameter, and during high water times in the Lake, water flows rapidly through it into the River.
But during the summer, when the water is low, the water flows more slowly through this drainage pipe, into the Neches River, creating a slower current, and for 3 teenage boys, an imaginary tunnel to anywhere.
Our first encounter with this tunnel was innocent enough. We finally figured out the current of the river well enough to discern that the current out of that drain pipe into the river created a return flow as well. One side of the river flowed in one direction, and the other side flow the opposite. As long as we stayed on that side, the current would carry us close enough to the pipe that we could put our feet down and walk through the rest of the current.
Despite our every effort, the current was too strong to walk into the tunnel very far.
This tunnel became our obsession. We had to see what was at the end. Despite having to walk 2 miles to our destination, almost every day for a summer, we continued our expedition. Some days, we were able to con our parents into dropping us off, other days we would walk the entire distance.
Some days, our path started in the lake, and we swam and walked the shore line, but always wound up at the river, staring into the face of our tunnel gateway into our imagination.
Some days the current was overwhelming and other days, it was just encouraging enough for us to keep coming back.
Then it happened.
My dad was with us one day, and the current was just right.
We walked a little further and discovered that we could probably make it to the back. We just had to be careful not to slip.
My dad, my brother, Dale, Jason Perry, and I worked our way into the tunnel. We would have to take a step, make sure our footing was sure, and then slowly shift our weight onto that foot, holding onto each other for balance. The current dragged at our feet and increased our difficulty with every step.
Slowly, our ascent into the tunnel was being realized. Our obsession now had a reality of a coming closure.
As we inched away from the mouth of the tunnel, the darkness slowly crept in upon us. Our slow progression allowed time for our eyes to adjust to the distressing darkness.
There is a curve in the pipe. A discovery that frightened and exhilarated us. The darkness would be overwhelming when the corner was rounded. We pressed on. Inch by inch we rounded the bend in the pipe, and aloud more time for our eyes to adjust.
The darkness surrounded us. No sound other than rushing water could be heard as we were all silently in awe of the gloom. A silent nudge pushed us on. Each step even harder as we approached what we thought was the source of the current.
Darkness has always had a way of making my mind wander and create images that are never present. Alligators and monsters of every sort plagued my mind. As a teenage boy, in the presence of my older brother, I would never announce my thoughts.
Later, I would discover that all of us, even my dad, were conscious of the same, although different, apparition of the dream taker; the quencher of encouragement, the one thing that stifles more dreams and visions than any other factor: FEAR.
Our expedition lasted a lifetime. Heartbeats couldn’t have been counted without calculus as we approached the deafening sound of water rushing. We yelled and heard no more than whispers for direction as we finally reached our goal.
There, coming out of a hole in the side of our tunnel, was a deluge. The pipe that came, without a doubt, directly from the lake was no more than 24 inches in diameter, but supplied all of the water that poured in a rage into our tunnel. When our excitement subsided, we walked past the drain pipe into still water. Surprisingly, there were a few feet past the drain pipe that was still water. No current to fight, nothing pulling us down.
During our must needed rest in the calm water, we realized that anything could be resting there with us, including our apparitions, our waiting assassins!
Back into the current we jumped, sitting down, so that the torrent we jousted with for so long could carry us back into the soothing light of day.
Our tunnel conquered, our “Pipe Dream” realized, we rested on the bank of the river, staring into the mouth of an accomplishment.
Not one of us would ever forget the day we stormed the fortress of our obsession and came out more alive than ever before.
On 2-19-07, a member of our expedition, Jason Perry, was shot and killed at 33 years old. The “tunnels” in our lives took us separate ways after graduation from High School, but until the day he was shot, I would have stood back to back with him in any tunnel, on any street, in any war or nation in the world.
Our friends that touch our lifelines on our journey, help to form and mold us into the people that we become. Jason will always be in my memory for making me stronger and more adventurous.
It is because of this that I took the chance on meeting my internet infatuation in Cleveland, OH and made her my wife. It is because of this adventurous spirit that I own a motorcycle, and it is one of the things that I hope to instill into my children.
I can still see him swan diving over the rail of the bridge that we spent many long summer days jumping from, I’m sure that I still own something that he scratched his initials into, and I can see the notebook, or cafeteria tray, or school book twirling on the end of his finger. He was the only person that I have ever known that could spin odd shaped things on the end of his finger.
I will forever be reminded of Jason’s persistence and strength.
Though the tunnels that we explore may end abruptly, we can all hold onto each other to balance ourselves from the currents of pain and grief that drag at our feet.
May God comfort his family and friends in this time of loss.
