The winning essay from Prairie Rivers Network’s “Our Upper Mississippi River: Connection, Inspiration, Transformation” essay contest!
The gentle way that the Mississippi River flowed past my childhood home did not change much during the 1970s and 80s when I lived there, and its presence was a source of stability when everything else seemed to move too fast. The river figures prominently in my earliest memories, and “foofoo,” the name I called it, was one of the first words in the unique vocabulary that I spoke. Having the river in my life was a privilege that I can honestly say my younger sister and I were aware of while growing up. This is because our parents consciously positioned our activities indoors and outdoors so that we could not only see the river, but watch it. My mother’s favorite place in the house was the bay window in our living room, where she perched each morning while she sipped her coffee. My father’s morning spot was the hot tub he built on our deck over-looking the river, in which he read the daily paper—even in the winter.
When the weather was nice, my family gathered on the patio or in our porch, where the river was the backdrop to all of our serious conversations about school, work, and the future. When it was a particularly beautiful evening, we all went for a boat ride, which meant a floating cocktail party for my parents, and a chance to get out on the water for my sister and I, albeit at trolling-speed. From our position on the river, my parents critiqued new landscaping and other exterior improvement, or dishevelment as the case may be, of our neighbors’ places. We always spoke in hushed voices during these excursions, since we knew from experience that water carries sound and the people sitting on their patios could hear us the way we heard the critics who passed by our house.
At least once a summer, we joined another family or two and organized a float-trip, which entailed inflating large inner tubes and rafts, and driving 10 miles up the Rum River to a place near a bridge where we could leave our car parked for the day. We loaded a cooler of snacks, pop, and beer into one of the rafts, and stopped at a sandy stretch of beach for lunch about halfway down the route. The Rum flows much slower than the Mississippi does, and there were several places where we had to paddle to keep moving. Our flotilla picked up speed as we neared the confluence of the two rivers, the place that signifies “Anoka,” or “where two rivers meet” in the Lakota Indian language.
As a teenager, the river played an even more significant role in my life, particularly in the summer. My girlfriends and I spent many Saturdays sun tanning in our boat, and flirting with the guys who regularly sped by to show off their talents on water skis and boogie boards. If I had to pick a favorite combination of sensations, it would be the feel of a cotton towel against a warm vinyl seat; the combined smell of baby oil, river water, and Fresca; the polyphony of Steve Perry and a distant Mercury engine; and the vision of sunlight dancing on the water. Though people say that youth is wasted on the young, we could not have fully tapped our romantic sense of adventure at any other time. We looked good in swim wear, our bodies were pliable enough to perform dazzling feats while hanging on to a ski rope, and our minds did not keep us from reckless stunts like barefoot skiing by moonlight.
Though I now live in the middle of Illinois and quite far from a natural body of water, I recall those sensations whenever I need to. Even if “living in the present” is the mantra of my generation, I often take time to close my eyes and remember the happiest moments of my past. I do this weekly at the end of my workout, when I belt out the words to REM’s “nightswimming” and imagine the scene from my old bedroom window. I see the huge oak trees and the carpet of green grass, the pitched roof of the boat house, the patch of orange tiger lilies, the large rock along the bank, and the patterns of ripples on the water beyond. A group of ducks paddle by, I hear a fisherman cast a line just off shore. And now I’m running barefoot, through the yard and down the railway tie steps. I sit down on the edge of the dock and dip my feet in. The cool, brown water laps at my ankles, and the warmth of the sunshine washes over me.
Whenever I return “home” for a visit, I try to sneak a peek at the stretch of Mississippi River that meanders by my old house and the houses where many of my friends once lived. To those of us who grew up there, the river holds some of our favorite stories, and runs through our memories like the blood through our veins.
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Rebecca Gearhart is Associate professor of anthropology and chair of the Sociology & Anthropology department at Illinois Wesleyan University. After growing up on the Mississippi River in Anoka, Minnesota, Rebecca attended Mount Holyoke College in Massachussetts, earning a BA in History and African Studies. She continued her studies at the University of Florida, Gainesville, completing a MA in African History and a PhD in Anthropology. Rebecca has lived in Bloomington, Illinois for the past twelve years with her husband Munib, who hails from Lamu Island, Kenya, where Rebecca has conducted research for over twenty years.
Rebecca shares her love of nature through her “Native Americans and the Environment” course at IWU. “Young people are often deprived of a relationship with Mother Earth. In this course, much of what the students learn directly relates to nature, so we spend a significant time outdoors.” An upcoming trip Rebecca has planned for the students is a visit to the Illinois River near Peoria, which will include paddling canoes on the river. “Once a river rat, always a river rat!” Rebecca proudly exclaims.
After being coaxed by one of her colleagues in the IWU Environmental Studies program to submit an essay on growing up on the Mississippi to the contest, Rebecca did so and then sent it along to fellow Anoka “river rats,” who after reading it were inspired to organize a reunion float down the river in August. “Growing up in such a special place has left a mark on each of us,” Rebecca explains. “The river that brought us all together for so many good times, will do so again!”
Thanks Rebecca, for taking us on this special journey to the Upper Mississippi River. Thanks also to our contest partner 1 Mississippi and to our wonderful panel of judges for their time and commitment to this contest.
