Memento Mori-- Premeditatio Malorem

Not far from where I use to live in Hillsborough County is a rural community called Seffner. Seffner is mix of born and bred residents that primarily make their living in agriculture or blue collar jobs in Tampa or Plant City and commuters who live in the newer suburban subdivisions that dot the area. Jeffrey Bush was from the former group.  He lived a life of no particular interest to anyone beyond his immediate family & friends. At the time of his death, at age 37, he was somewhat down on his luck living in his brother's house. Although I never knew Jeff, I do think of him fairly often.  On February 27, 2013; Jeff went to bed early, about 11PM, shortly after that his family heard Jeff briefly call out in panic. They rushed to his room and flung open the door looking to see what was wrong. Strangely, there was a dark hole where the floor of the room had been. Jeff, his bed, his dresser and almost everything else he owned was gone.  Jeff's brother jumped into the darkness in an effort to find his bother among the dirt and sand, but there was nothing he could do.  Before the end of the night, there would be 3 more collapses and the hole would grow to 60 feet deep.  Jeff's body was never recovered.

I saw the raw footage from the cameras mounted on the robotic boom used by the County to peer into the hole.  Snippets of the footage are available on the internet.  The camera enters the bedroom window with a bright light. It looks down, its is very dark and difficult to make out anything. The camera pans left and you see the door and wall are completely intact.  The door is still in place. It is closed with hats hanging from the door knob.  There is a flimsy looking shelf  resting on metal brackets attached to the wall, jackets and bandanas still hang from hooks.  Panning right there is a crooked poster on the wall. The camera pulls back to the window, on the sill, undisturbed are bottles of cologne, hydrogen peroxide and other toiletries. The camera moves back to the center of the room and down, you see nothing just black, you notice on the periphery of the hole paper-thin linoleum. No trace of the foundation beneath the room remains.

The house Jeffrey Bush died in had a solid poured 4-inch concrete slab on grade foundation with 8-inch footers.  It had been in his family since it was built 40 years ago. Far below it, perhaps rather slowly, fine grain sand began to erode during rain events creating a cavity that gradually expanded as it moved upwards towards the floor of Jeffery's room.

Sometimes I think of Jeffery Bush at night, just after I get into bed and turn out the light.