Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Valley (08/10/06)
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TITLE: Down By The Riverside | Previous Challenge Entry
By alan polacek
08/14/06 -
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My first recollection of it was in the mid 1950's, riding in the back seat of a late 1940's-something two-toned Oldsmobile, dark blue and rust. Zipping down the highway at the breathtaking speed of fifty miles an hour.
Dad wouldn’t let us have the windows rolled down. He didn’t like the wind hitting him in the back of his head. Couldn’t even open them a crack because he didn’t like the whistling sound in his ear. Thankfully the front door had wing windows that he would open just a bit to get some air moving.
The old car only had two seatbelts located in the front seat... Mom and Dad. If my older brother and I got too rowdy, one or the other would belt us back in our seats. Could usually dodge Mom’s attempt because baby brother was sitting on her lap. But Dad was quick. That right hand would swing over the seat and strike like a cornered snake, always finding his target.
After about an hour of sweating and dodging, we would finally get close enough that we could see our valley come into view. Still miles away, the beauty of the blue haze rising over the tree tops of the river valley had a calming effect on all except Dad.
As we drive down the hill into the flat rich farmland of the river bottom Dad would relax. Unlike the sharp, blind turns of the blacktop leading to it, the road now was fairly smooth and straight with high bluffs on the left and the yet-to-be-seen Missouri River just the other side of the corn and bean fields on the right.
As we crossed the Logan Creek bridge and the railroad tracks that followed the bluffs, my brother and I would start getting excited. Just beyond there were steep hills that, once you topped them, would drop straight back down the other side and we knew what Dad was going to do, much to Mom’s displeasure. Sitting on the edge of our seat, we would grab hold of the cloth rope that the older cars had on the back of the front seat as Dad accelerated. Zooming over the top of the hill and dropping down the other side. Taking the air from our lungs and making our stomachs rise up to our throats. A homemade roller coaster.
This was done at each hill except for the last one before entering the valley from which I can’t seem to get loose. We always slowed there to look out over the river, the only place the river was visible from that road for at least fifty miles. The Missouri River is called the Big Muddy for a reason but from that view looking down across the green rolling pastures with the sun reflecting off the surface, the river gleamed, shining like silver.
Down that hill and at the top of another small incline was the reason for our trip. Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I can’t remember a time when we weren’t greeted from the front yard with a wave and a smile. Across the road from them was the Baptist Church and Marshall’s station. Gas, small repair garage and most important: sodas and candy. A little past there was the main source of entertainment for most of the community. The town tavern. It was a two-in-one establishment. Tavern in the back. Milk, bread, lunch meat and canned goods in the front.
This once bustling port for river boat and railroad stops in the 1800's and early 1900's is where many of my most treasured memories lay. Instead of taking my problems to the mountain, as they say, I go to what now is nothing like what it was fifty years ago. The Church and tavern are still there. My grandparents house, Marshall’s and even the railroad tracks are gone.
But I can still travel to that valley. Walk down to the sandy banks of the river. And mindfully cast whatever is troubling me into the swift swirling current and visualize the problem bobbing and spinning in a whirlpool floating downstream towards the Mississippi. I’ll then go visit Grandma and Grandpa once again. No waves or smiles anymore. Instead I’m greeted with the inscription...Ben 1894-1968 and Susy 1910-1986.
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A bittersweet story. It is nice to be able to return to places in our memories even if the place does not exist anymore. Such is the phrase "God gave us memories so that we would have roses in December."
Be blessed!