One woman's view: Lost in the Tampa Triangle
Contributing writer
One of earth's most baffling mysteries is an area of ocean known as the Bermuda Triangle, or sometimes the Devil's Triangle. The points of the triangle are Bermuda, Puerto Rico and a spot near the southern tip of Florida. Over several centuries an exceptionally large number of ships and planes have disappeared in this region. Although some of the disappearances have occurred outside this exact space, the locale has earned a reputation for extreme danger.
Many explanations have been offered for this phenomenon, some of them quite commonplace. For one thing, exceptionally busy shipping lands traverse the area, so disasters would naturally be more common. There are also geographical and meteorological conditions which render the region dangerous, among them sharp reefs, hurricanes and waterspouts (tornadoes at sea). However, one might expect search parties to find some wreckage, if calamity resulted from one of these causes. In some cases, although there were no known storms in the area, ships or planes have seemingly dropped off the face of the earth never to be seen again.
More imaginative theorists have speculated the mysterious events are caused by supernatural forces or aliens from outer space. Others theorize magnetic anomalies may be responsible, since an ocean region directly across the globe off the coast of Japan has been the site of an equal number of disappearances. The only meridians where a compass points to the true north lie along the edge of these two areas.
Some mundane and practical minds ridicule the idea of anything eerie or mystifying about the Devil's Triangle, attributing the disappearances to perfectly ordinary causes. However, I am ready to believe in some mysterious, utterly baffling force, because I have seen it at work.
No, I have never navigated my yacht through the Devil's Triangle, but the mystery is not strictly a marine phenomenon. A similar place exists in land-locked Marion County. In fact, it is right in the middle of my house.
As far as I know, the Tampa Triangle has never swallowed up something as large as a ship or airplane, or even a person. However, it regularly devours important business papers, appointment reminder cards from my dentist or beautician, scissors, combs, nail files, lipsticks, crochet hooks, the ice cleats I put away last spring. The list is endless.
When one of these objects turns up missing, I usually know without doubt that it has never left the house. Nevertheless, an extensive search worthy of a Coast Guard fleet scouring the Caribbean fails to turn up the slightest evidence of its whereabouts, or even of its existence. Like the yachts, cargo ships and airplanes large and small which have fallen victim to the Bermuda Triangle, they have apparently dropped off the face of the earth leaving no trace.
I admit that in the Tampa Triangle the vanished objects sometimes do eventually reappear, but their reappearance can be nearly as mystifying as their disappearance.
Here is a typical example. I always sit in the same overstuffed chair to crochet while watching television. For almost every new baby in the neighborhood I crochet a pair of booties using a size 6 crochet hook. One evening as I was working on a pair, my crochet hook was suddenly missing.
My painstaking search, which covered the floor under and around my favorite seat as well as the caverns at the sides and back of the overstuffed chair, unearthed expired coupons, ball-point pens, church bulletins from 1988 and other items to numerous to enumerate, but no crochet hook. Finally I gave up the hook as forever lost and decided to buy another.
When I sallied forth to purchase a size 6 crochet hook, none seemed to be available. I finally settled for a size 5 hook and noticed very little difference in the size of the booties I created with the slightly larger hook. Peace reigned in my soul until the evening the second hook disappeared as I sat in my favorite chair.
Another monumental quest was underway. My painstaking exploration of the floor beside and under the chair and the voracious mouths around the cushions failed to discover any trace of a size 5 crochet hook. However, there under the front corner of my chair, where I am certain I had already searched and researched, lay a size 6 crochet hook.
Explain that, you complacent scientists who scoff at unfathomable mysteries! Don't tell me I had not looked at that exact spot on the living room carpet during the first search and saw no shiny cylinder with a useful barbed end. Don't tell me the second hook was also there if I had persisted in seeking it. Don't even tell me such occurrences would not happen if my house were less chaotic, although I admit that statement contains a bit more truth than the others.
As for me, I do not try to explain the unexplainable. I simply know all my lost possessions have found a resting place somewhere in my house or possibly in outer space or a fourth dimension. Some of them will never be seen again. Others may surface at the will of some occult force responsible for their absence or maybe at their own whim.
It is even entirely possible I will find the ice cleats. I'm willing to bet good money that, if I do, it will be the middle of next June.
