About Being Next to the River

Post 656:

The big rivers have always fascinated me. I’ve never seen the Nile, but I’d like to. The only problem I have with the Nile is that it’s in Egypt and I just didn’t have time today to get over there. I did however, drive over two of our lovely waterways, the grand Ohio and the Mighty Mississippi.

I think I’m blown away by big rivers because I grew up in Texas where a river is a creek and a lake is something they had to artificially make out of one of the bigger creeks.

Not to go back to my home base, but I can’t help but think of all the stories and history these rivers hold. All the crazy people willing to go exploring back in the day, consumed by the idea of the search.

It’s probably a feeling that is growing old and vestigial to modern man. We’ve got it all mapped out, don’t we? I can tell you how many bathroom stalls we’ll be encountering on the next leg of our voyage—not exactly Lewis and Clark type stuff.

This is weird, but I really like Cincinnati and the way it’s built around the river. You can feel all the old industry that went up next to the water on either side. The old brick and dust sort of sing a song through the air. It feels American in the way that America always regarded itself as getting after it, even if it meant living in Cincinnati.

I close my eyes and think of the people that climbed down from the hills and built a house next to that huge frigging river, knowing well a rain could swell it up and take them out. Guess they were willing to risk it. To be next to the action, at the hub of commerce and creation, they were willing to risk it. So many were. I think of them when I feel like cowering from the water. I picture their rugged faces, and after I admit to my faults I admit that it’s time to find a place near the shore.

Cheers and see you after