Jason Loviglio

 

The Dulcimer Splash. The log flume ride at Opryland Themepark, Nashville, Tennessee.  The year is 1994. My brother-in-law Paul sits in the back seat of our 3-man log, lantern-jawed and smiling; if the park wanted an advertisement in the newspaper or on the side of a bus, they couldn’t ask for a better model of suburban wholesomeness and customer satisfaction. Anne and I occupy the middle and front seats, respectively, our faces identical masks of terror.  We three share the same plunging log, but Paul is headed somewhere else entirely. Perhaps the first time is scarier. Perhaps the spray of chlorinated Opryland water is fiercer in the front two seats, transforming even the happiest visitors momentarily into tragic figures from Greek antiquity.  No matter. My wife and I share something: an elemental understanding of the abyss.