Thirty- something speaks

At one point in the summer of 1989, I was outside of Myrtle Beach standing alone knee deep in water holding a surveyor's pole with a prism at the top. Although I was not officially in a swamp, it might as well have been, because that's how it felt. Unlike a swamp, there were no beautiful cypress trees or weird looking kids with banjos, but there was tall grass, one to two feet of water all around, and squishy, nasty ground…the kind of ground that at best constantly sucks off shoes and at worst consumes entire human beings.

To the west, I could see an elevated dirt road about 2,000 feet away. To the north and south was about 1,000 more feet of the stuff I was standing in bordered by dense pine forests. To the east, and this is the direction I was supposed to be heading, was nothing but more of the same. I could see no hope on the horizon. It all just looked like swamp. Did I mention it was also about 100 degrees and hazy?

Why was I standing in the middle of this swamp holding a surveyor's pole? I've often asked myself that question over the years, but the real reason is that my father got me a job at an engineering company. Instead of making me an office boy meant to fetch cheeseburgers and various documents, they stuck me on a survey crew at my dad's urging. He thought it would be good experience for me since I was majoring in civil engineering at Clemson.

I don't know if the experience paid off, but the job, especially on that particular day, made me want to stay in school in a big way. While I was holding that pole looking for my crew chief, I noticed snakeskins…large snake- skins floating all around me. The water was black and murky, and it was then and there I realized absolutely nothing was to stop me from becoming lunchmeat for a pack of angry water moccasins.

Other random thoughts raced through my head. What about 'gators or oversized, rabid muskrats? All I had to defend myself was a pole and half a pack of sugarless gum. I couldn't die for $5 an hour. What if I just disappeared under the black water never to be seen again?

God and I talked a lot that day. I promised to do something with my life. I would study hard and not just lounge around on a couch watching Magnum PI re- runs. If He could get me out of that swamp, I would make something of myself.

He did get me out of that swamp, but I'm not sure He believed my promises at first, because it took a really long time. I'm also pretty sure He got a good laugh at my expense when I stepped on a stick or felt something rub my leg from under that water.

I realized two things that day: God has a sense of humor and I had no business being on a survey crew. So I studied and I graduated and I haven't been in a swamp since…at least one that doesn't have an elevated trail and ranger guides.

Motivation comes in all forms. Mine didn't come from Tom Selleck or his mustache, but it did come in the middle of that swamp. I was never sure if pure panic in knee- deep water is what my dad meant for me, but I did get the experience he so wanted. That job was just one line on my résumé, but it was a lifetime's worth of motivation.