It has been given many names over the centuries: Old Man River, The Ancient Father of Rivers, The Long River. As children we clapped our hands to the s's and p's to get the spelling down. It has divided the Spanish territory and the American territory. It has divided the east and the west. It did not divide, but once played a pivotal role in the division of the north and the south. It has brought hundreds of thousands of pounds of cargo from northern banks to southern ports. And you can't just drive a few miles north or south to cross it.
We have built levee systems to attempt to tame it. We have taken sample after sample to try to figure out his age. It is believed by many scientists that dinosaurs once drank from this vast water source that over millions of years ago carved through mountains and bellied out a delta feeding and breathing life into the most fertile soil in the nation. Abraham Lincoln said, "The Father of Waters goes unvexed to the sea." Mark Twain used it as a setting for promises of freedom. Johnny Cash sang about "Big River" and John Fogerty, "Proud Mary."
Actually, I had not given a lot of thought to this river beyond our southern region until recently when Clay and I traveled through the delta. We came across small ghost settlements that had once thrived when an agricultural industry exploded along these banks. Hilly land would quickly flatten out as a train track and levy would appear letting one know he had once again wound his way in our direction.
The Mississippi River is as much a part of our lives in Louisiana as rich food, flavorful music, and mossy oaks all of which have been influenced by his grand presence. He eases by our state capital and carves out the Crescent City of New Orleans. Culturally speaking the Mississippi River is the spine of what we call home. In that vein I was a bit taken aback when I traveled along his winding curves to see how much of a presence this river makes throughout the heart of our country.
In Hannibal, Missouri cranes are brought in to lower large steel walls into two lane openings to block out the rise of the river. This takes place each year. And as you drive from one point to another there are alerts on your phone that you are in flood areas. A siren goes off occasionally in the town as a test to make sure it is working in the event there is a natural disaster of storm or flood. And some areas have homes along these high cliffs which are in low areas only accessible by boat when the Mississippi decides to swell.
My whole life I have spent driving along his levees, walking upon them, or climbing steep bridges to cross over the muddy anaconda having no clue the mischief these waters had caused above us weaving through steep hills, cutting between states, and carrying tourists, fishermen, and muddy soil.
In Louisiana, the Mississippi river empties into the Gulf of Mexico spitting fresh water to mix with salty waves. A brackish gumbo creates its own eco system harboring unique plants and aquatic creatures. Perhaps that is what makes those of us living along the final banks want to think of this river as our own. The journey begins above us, and we live where the river ends, "but old man river, he just keeps coming."
