A reader who grew up in this area recently posted a comment, remembering her thrill as a child crossing the long bridge across the Mississippi. My first crossing of the great river is indelibly stamped in my own memory and has floated to the surface of my mind many times on this journey. I was seven years old and in the back seat of my family’s blue and white DeSoto. I can hear the rattle of the iron bridge and smell the earthy scent of the river. I can feel again how it stopped my heart and filled me with wonder and questions. I can hear my Dad teaching me to spell its name with the little singsong chant, “M….i….crooked letter…..crooked letter…..i…crooked letter…crooked letter…i…humpback…humpback….i”. In all the years since then, that chant still plays in my mind whenever I approach a bridge across the Mississippi. And the thrill is not even the tiniest bit diminished. In fact, it might be greater.
Moments
Like many, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as the Mississippi Great River Road until about six years ago when my husband and I came upon a section of it in Wisconsin. I was hooked – instantly – and the first thing I did when I got home was order a map of the entire GRR from the Mississippi River Parkway Commission, laminate it and hang it on my wall. It’s been there to entice me ever since. I have watched my calendar for any opening that would give me time to get to some section of the GRR. When one appeared, I would stand in front of the map and see which area seemed to be calling me. Then just load the car and go.