Mississippi River Archives - Page 2 of 3

Gettin’ My Fix

May 16, 2014 by Gayle Harper 3 Comments

Hello!!

I’ve missed you! Things in Serendipity-land have been fun and exciting, although sometimes keeping up with it feels a bit like trying to drink from a fire hose! It is time, however, to stop and catch up with my friends!

First, the book is coming along wonderfully! The copyedit is finished and we are moving into layout and design, choosing a photo for the cover and diving into a thousand other decisions and details. I’m SO thankful for the amazing team of experts working on this. We expect to have books in your hands by the fall!

After a meeting with the publisher, the editor, the designer and the marketing expert, I saw an opportunity to get a little “river fix” and I took it! I beat it over to a lovely piece of the Illinois Great River Road and, as I love to do, just let go of the reins.

Wandering along back roads in unknown territory felt like a homecoming of the most heart-swelling kind! it didn’t matter where I went or what I saw or whether I got any photographs, I was just being there, drinking it all in.

The dogwoods were in bloom and the grass and trees were wide awake and fully alive with that brand-new, impossibly green, color that can never be reproduced.

When I rounded a bend and the river burst into full view, it felt like finally laying eyes on a loved one in a crowd at the airport. I sighed, rested, breathed deeply and felt realigned and reconnected.

Then I met someone, who introduced me to someone else, who owns property on a towering bluff with a magnificent view of the confluence of the Illinois and the Mississippi Rivers. With their gracious permission, I was there for a muted, silvery sunset

and again before sunrise, when a passing barge made the scene even more interesting.

Then I made fast tracks back home, did my laundry, repacked and headed west to Denver for a two-day conference – the “Author U Extravaganza.” I learned so much that I thought my head might explode. Being with so many talented, creative people and learning about all their unique projects was such a high that it was nearly impossible to shut my mind down at night. And, having so many seasoned experts in the world of book publishing respond to Surrendering to Serendipity with excitement and offers to help, made my heart feel like it might burst. I left tired, but filled to the brim.

So, I’ve recharged my soul with a river fix, stuffed my mind and my heart and had some perfectly wonderful family time as well – and I’m rarin’ to go again! Lead on, Serendipity!

P.S. – I also came away from the conference with this…a caricature done by Jake Williams, a fun, talented and very nice guy! Whatcha think?

From Soupy to Shiny

January 10, 2014 by Gayle Harper 24 Comments

Effigy Mounds National Monument is a fascinating and sacred place along the Upper Mississippi in a beautifully rugged region of northeast Iowa. The earthen mounds protected here by the National Park Service were built by prehistoric American Indian people between 800 and 1200 years ago. Some of the mounds are burial sites, while others are believed to be ceremonial, but many mysteries remain.

It was my very good fortune to be at the park just before sunrise one morning, surrounded by a fog so dense that, at first, shapes 20 feet away were barely discernible. To me, the ghostly grey fog was a perfect visual representation of the ancient secrets preserved here. As I walked the trails through the forest, the silence was so profound that it seemed to still my thoughts and allow a sort of wordless awareness to be present.

This photo comes to mind this morning as I think about the way complex decisions sort themselves out. It seems to be a necessary part of the process to walk for a while on a path you can barely see where surroundings seem shrouded in sameness. It makes no difference if you would like to have something different, like sparkly warm sunlight on shiny green leaves, what you have is fog. When we let go of our notion of how things should be, we can appreciate how they are. That bit of surrender often creates a space for clarity.

When my recent Kickstarter campaign ended successfully, thanks to many of you, my next step was to sort through a myriad of options, searching for the right path and the right experts to help with the next phase of bringing “Surrendering to Serendipity” into a completed, beautiful book. There came a point where I had accumulated lots of information about the choices and although I wanted a decision to be clear, it was not yet.

Life was showing me a familiar lesson in yet another new context. Resisting the reality of the way things are in this moment is about as productive as whacking one’s head against the wall. The fact is that in this moment I don’t know. My job is to simply be right here in the midst of don’t know, without resistance or argument. That means surrendering to the moment as it is. It means being still and waiting. Fog is never permanent.

And…sure enough! Out of that surrender, clarity arises. The next morning, every shape is distinct, every cornstalk stands in stark contrast to the one beside it and the way is undeniably shown – and it is full speed ahead.

Now, I’m happy to say that all the moving parts of this project seem to be on target and on time. I’ve got the wise counsel of a “coach” who has been in the book publishing industry for more than two decades and who really gets what “Surrendering to Serendipity” is about. Life is fast-paced, challenging, exciting and great fun and I am loving this part of this project as much as I have every other.

Part of the pure joy of my work is having you with me. On an almost daily basis, someone gives me the gift of saying, “I cannot wait to have this book!” I cannot tell you how that inspires me – and I also cannot wait for you to have this book!

Stay warm and safe and I’ll be back in touch soon!

Love, Gayle

Click!

November 21, 2013 by Gayle Harper 16 Comments

At precisely the perfect time, while up to my eyeballs in alligators during the Kickstarter campaign, Cathy Dondanville, a reader and a friend who I had not yet met, invited me to visit her home overlooking the Mississippi. Knowing that it would be the perfect way to recharge before the next busy phase of this project, I gratefully accepted.

Cathy’s home in the quiet farming community of Calhoun County, Illinois, is best reached by ferry as it sits on a sort of peninsula between the Illinois and the Mississippi Rivers. She is a fabulous cook and a gracious hostess – AND this is her backyard!

I expected the weekend to be rejuvenating and the area to be lovely – and it was. But as often happens when Serendipity is in charge, there was even more to it.

Over the past 2 1/2 years, while writing “Surrendering to Serendipity” and editing the photographs, most of my time has been spent here in front of this computer. For a woman who was more often asked by friends, “Where are you off to next?” than, “How are you?” that signaled a profound shift in my life.

Although even I was surprised when I stepped back to look at that, I never minded. The writing was its own adventure and I loved it. In the same way that I never knew what a day on the road would bring, I woke up each morning excited to see what would show up on my screen.

Of the dozens of tales that might be told from each day or place, it never seemed up to me to choose. Something wanted to be said – I was here to listen and to punch the keys. The details, sensations and conversations that I did not know were living in my memory banks continually amazed me as they sprang to life as fresh and full as the day they occurred. The work never required discipline or determination as some people had suggested. Instead, I felt like the luckiest person I know to feel this way about my job.

So, although I welcomed a break after the intensity of the campaign and I was thrilled to have the opportunity to recharge with “River energy,” I didn’t feel any deficit. What happened caught me by surprise.

There is something inexpressibly freeing about being out wandering in unknown territory in the sweet light of early morning or late evening when I am not on assignment and have no agenda. I am there with camera gear, ready for anything that might be given, but without any expectation. Just being there – seeing what I see, exploring, absorbing, receiving without seeking – has a profound effect that I hadn’t felt in a while. It’s like when you stretch out on the floor at the end of a long day and all vertebrae click back into alignment. Everything is just right, no matter what.

For me, processing the photos from my weekend brought that same gentle click of realignment, so I want to share some in case they might do the same for you.

morning gold….

a quiet backwater…

evening sky…

and a blue ribbon of American Coots in a river of amber….

With love,

Gayle

Sleeping in Opulence: Roadtripping with a Raindrop Moment #10

September 3, 2013 by Gayle Harper 6 Comments

Two things about this journey come together to keep me arriving in every new place as a blank slate. The first is that each day is so completely absorbing that it never allows time to look ahead to what is coming next. The second is that because all of my lodging arrangements were made by others, the incredible variety of places I have stayed has been a constant surprise.

In that life-changing moment when I first read that a drop of water falling into the headwaters of the Mississippi River in Minnesota would travel for 90 days to reach the Gulf of Mexico, I knew what was coming next in my life – I just didn’t know how. I knew, without a doubt, that somehow I would make this 90-day road trip, keeping pace with an imaginary raindrop on its journey to the Gulf. Since then, this adventure has literally created itself and I am a lucky participant.

Clearly, I could not afford 90 nights lodging, so I sent an email to Chambers of Commerce and Tourism Bureaus along the Mississippi’s nearly 2,500 mile route. I included a link to my website and described the project that I had in mind. Then I said, “If you are interested in having me visit your community and you can help me with lodging, please let me know,” and I waited to see what would happen. To my astonishment, invitations began pouring in and, in the end, there were actually more offers for lodging than there were available nights. Because of that amazing support, this journey was made possible.

Very often, while making the arrangements, I would be asked about my preferences and my answer was always the same, “Just a clean bed, please, and hopefully internet access – beyond that, whatever you chose will be perfect.” What they would choose, then, in many cases, is whatever is most interesting and unique in their community. As a result, an itinerary of fascinating places emerged that I could never have imagined or planned! I have rested my head in places as varied as a secluded cabin in the woods, a fishing resort, historic inns and B&Bs, a trendy downtown loft and a sharecropper’s cabin. There was even one unforgettable evening when I was handed the keys to a 30-room mansion and told that it was mine for the weekend!

Now, on day 81, I am on the Great River Road between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, Louisiana, a region legendary for its collection of antebellum plantation homes. I have been invited to stay at Nottoway Plantation, which I know is the largest among them and I know that it will be magnificent. Still, I am not at all prepared for what I find.

After checking in at a small building on the plantation grounds, I follow a staff member into the garden, still lush in mid-November. There, my first glimpse of the white plantation mansion stops me like a head-on truck! It is a 64-room, 53,000 square foot home surrounded by towering pillars and broad, curving balconies. I follow my guide into the house and we climb two flights of broad, graceful mahogany stairs, passing lavish rooms resplendent with period furnishings. At the top, he throws open a door and says, “This is your room – the Master Suite.” I am shocked, but I bite my tongue to keep from asking, “Are you sure?” and step inside.

The beautiful, spacious suite is furnished with museum-quality antiques. The hand-carved rosewood bed, which is covered with luxurious linens and topped with an antique bed warmer, has hollow bedposts, he tells me, and is likely where the lady of the house hid her jewels during the Civil War. I nod and smile in stunned silence as he orients me to my home for the next two days.

I take up my camera then and wander the halls, peeking into open rooms. There are countless bedrooms, a spectacular white and gold ballroom, a dining room set with hand-painted French porcelain, a music room, a library and even a bowling alley. It is a look into a lifestyle of wealth and privilege that is almost beyond comprehension. In the morning, I will join a tour and learn the history of the house, but for now I am content to wander and gawk like a kid in a candy store.

As dusk settles in and golden light glows from within the mansion, I race with my camera gear and tripod from one vantage point to another, marveling at how harmonious and graceful the architecture is from every angle.

Finally, as darkness erases the last hint of color from the sky, I slow down and then I feel for the first time the effects of a very long, full and amazing day. Lest I think that she might have exhausted her bag of surprises, Serendipity, our little raindrop, has pulled this one out and topped herself once again!

Happily exhausted, I climb the stairs (which feel considerably longer this time) and wonder how it might feel to settle into that elegant rosewood bed.

Tsunami on the Mississippi River? Roadtripping with a Raindrop Moment #9

August 26, 2013 by Gayle Harper 4 Comments

I slept like the dead after my first jam-packed day in Memphis and I’m coming back to life slowly. The city below my hotel room window is still fast asleep, but I have an early date with the River and the friend of a friend.

Yesterday, at the end of a laugh-filled and surprise-filled day, my new buddy Diana Threadgill (who will be another day’s tale), suddenly said, “Oh my gosh! You have got to meet my friend, Joe Royer! I am calling him right now!” Then, quicker than I could say, “Serendipity,” Joe and I had made a plan to meet early this morning to get out on the Mississippi River in his sea kayak.

The River is nearly a mile wide at Memphis and it looks every inch of that as Joe and I settle into his 22-foot sea kayak. The dark water looks smooth and glassy, but I know very well the strength of the current underneath it. After a few quick instructions, we paddle out of the small harbor into the vast, open River. My heart clutches a bit – I’ve never experienced the River from such a perspective. Sitting at river level, with just inches of boat on either side, the commanding power of this great River is stunning.

“The River has a reputation for being dangerous,” Joe says from the stern, “but if you respect it and learn the proper skills, it is safe and fun.” Joe has done this hundreds of times and he is as comfortable here as I am behind the wheel of my car, so I relax into the soothing rhythm of our paddling. The kayak slices silently through the current and of all the ways I have been with and on this River, I have never felt such a sublime intimacy with it.

photo by Joe Royer

Suddenly, the quiet is shattered by the familiar moan of a barge horn. I can’t see it yet, but it sounds very close. In the next second, it appears – and the thing looks colossal! It looks to be racing right toward us at breakneck speed! I’m on full alert and ready for Joe to maneuver us closer to shore, but he paddles on at the same tranquil pace. I glance back at him and he smiles. There is no way he is not aware of its presence, so I wait. Another blast of the horn and my spine tingles and my hold on the paddle becomes a white-knuckled death grip, but still there is no reaction from Joe.

The barge has rounded the bend now and is pointed upriver and we are clearly a safe distance from it. As it churns past us, however, I see the wake angling out from behind and it looks like a mountainous tidal wave! It rolls toward us and I quickly store my camera where it will be safe and brace myself. I hold my breath and prepare for the onslaught. The kayak makes an agile and seemingly effortless turn slightly toward the wake that now is looking to me like a freakin’ tsunami .……and……. with a gentle rise and fall, we are up and down and once again cruising on flat water. It was almost nothing! I nearly laugh out loud with relief and embarrassment. If Joe has noticed my greenhorn anxiety, he kindly makes no comment and we simply paddle onward.

With my heartbeat back to normal, we glide beneath the Hernando de Soto Bridge. Above us are six lanes of morning rush hour traffic on Interstate 40. I think about the hundreds of commuters in those streams of vehicles and the contrast between their experience of this moment and my own is so profound that it brings a rush of emotion. After 66 days of keeping company with this amazing River, I am still sometimes overwhelmed at my good fortune to be making this journey.

P.S. While you’re here – if you haven’t done so yet, I hope you will sign up to be notified when new posts go up, either by email in the box to the right or by RSS. See you next time! Thanks for traveling with us!

Roadtripping With a Raindrop: Moment #4 – The Storm

July 10, 2013 by Gayle Harper 10 Comments

NOTE: If you’re just joining us, this is the 4^th installment in a series of “Moments,” selected at random from the “journey of a raindrop,” the road trip of a lifetime. I’m a travel photographer and writer in love with the Mississippi River, so when I learned that it takes a single drop of water 90 days to travel the entire Mississippi River from its headwaters in Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico, I knew that I would make this journey. For 90 days, I kept pace with my imaginary raindrop, wandering back roads, meeting amazing people and having days filled with crazy, wonderful, serendipitous experiences. As the book of photographs and tales is being produced, I’m sharing these travel moments with you here. I hope you enjoy!

The Storm

The Mississippi River is still young, agile and pristine. On this 10^th day of the journey, it has traveled 265 miles from its headwaters.

The Mississippi River near Palisade, Minnesota

My home for a few days is a simple fishermen’s cabin on Lake Waukanabo, near Palisade, Minnesota. The small resort has no other guests and the lake no public access, so it seems to belong to Abby, the resident Golden Retriever, and me.

Last night at dusk we sat on the porch together, her head resting on my foot, and listened to the hauntingly beautiful call of loons echoing across the lake. When we walked this morning, the world was painted in baby pastels.

Lake Waukanabo, Minnesota, just after sunrise

On our late afternoon walk, the lake had become a shimmering mirror for a brilliant September sky decorated with perfect, tiny clouds.

Lake Waukanabo in the late afternoon

Now, I am on the porch, watching billowing, ominous clouds swallow up what is left of the blue. I’ve watched the lake transform from glassy azure to dull slate to nearly black and dotted with whitecaps. A fisherman is racing for home as fast as his small motor will propel him, the sound of its desperate puttering muffled by the dense clouds. Abby has gone home.

The surging mass of storm cloud has dark underbellies and churning white tops. It swells, then folds in on itself and then bulges out again, heavier and blacker. Goosebumps rise on my arms. I can smell the rain now and see it at the horizon, but the air around me is still and empty, the energy sucked out of it by the power amassing above. I wait – it’s like the moment when the symphony conductor raises the baton and the audience holds its collective breath.

I can hear the wind coming. The first deep rumblings of faraway thunder roll across the lake and the clouds congeal to seal off the last of the sunlight. The wind swoops in suddenly, swirling the trees like a blender. There is a sharp crack of blue lightning and the long, bass drum roll of its thunder. A wall of rain is sweeping across the lake.

The Storm

The first huge drop hits the porch and in the next second, the great clouds are unzipped. There is no lake, no sky, no road, nothing but gray torrents of rain. I scoot back against the cabin, but the narrow eaves provide little shelter, so I open the door and set my chair just inside. A bolt of lightning cracks so close and loud that it makes me yelp like a puppy. Immediately, another follows that seems to rise up from the ground, making the cabin tremble and the porch light rattle in its base. I am spellbound, a captive audience.

It’s cold now, so I wrap myself in a blanket, but I stay in the doorway, awed, entranced by the storm’s fierce majesty, thrilled by its dominion over everything until, finally, it begins to wane.

I am spent. The rain is soft and steady as I get into bed and the sleep that claims me instantly is silky, luxurious and dreamless.

Judy with the Golden Throat: Roadtripping With a Raindrop Moment #2

June 28, 2013 by Gayle Harper 8 Comments

Bulbous, heavy clouds split wide open yesterday, just after I climbed down from Randy Rivere’s tractor and left his sugar cane field. (ah, but that’s a story I’ll save for another day…) In the 24 hours since then, it has poured unabated, in a way that makes you forget that sunshine ever existed. Thunder builds again in the distance, rolling toward me, flattening the air as it comes, until it presses down on my little cottage. I huddle into my jacket and cradle a cup of dark chicory coffee, inhaling its woody scent. Enormous, shimmering leaves reach onto the porch and flap in the wind like elephant’s ears, while everything else dances like a scene from Fantasia.

The Rain at Houmas House Plantation, Darrow, Louisiana

Through the torrents, I can just make out one white pillar and one shuttered window of the Houmas House Plantation mansion, a jewel in the collection of magnificent antebellum homes that line this south Louisiana section of the Mississippi Great River Road. A sudden, wet gust makes me shiver and convinces me it’s time to move inside. I have caught up on emails, backing up photos and posting to the blog and I am content now to do no more than snuggle into the cloud-like bed and watch the shadows made by a row of candles ripple across the ceiling. I drift in and out of awareness, riding the waves of the storm.

When it finally stops, just at sunrise, the silence jolts me awake. The earth laps up the puddles, everything that can croak or sing does so and the squeaky-clean air intensifies every color. I prowl the grounds with my camera and then join in a tour of the ochre-colored, 21-room mansion – and that’s when I meet Judy.

She is our tour guide, but unlike any you have ever had. She doesn’t just describe the history of the house, she animates it with a dozen different voices and accents. She sits down at the 1901 Steinway grand piano and accompanies herself in a rendition of “Desperado” that makes us beg for more. In the gentlemen’s parlor, she picks off a hustler-worthy shot at the billiard table without breaking stride in her narration. Twice, she leaves our small group doubled over, howling with laughter as she drops a quick-witted zinger, nods and walks away.

When the tour ends, the others drift away and Judy and I linger in the kitchen, chatting. When another tour group comes through, we take our conversation to the verandah. She tells me stories of her life, growing up in rural Louisiana as the child of a minister and then moving to inner city Detroit when her father took a church there. Some of her stories make me laugh until the tears roll and some make my heart hurt.

When Judy tells me she is starting over now, healing from a divorce and learning to be a single parent, I tell her about my daughter, Natalie, who is doing the same. After a quiet moment, she says, with her dark eyes glistening, “I have a message for her – turn that recorder back on, please.” What follows is a truly incredible moment as Judy pours out words of love and encouragement to Natalie. “I also have a song for her,” she says then, “this one seems to come to me whenever things get tough.” Then, in a powerful voice that flows effortlessly from deep within her, she sings “Don’t Cry Out Loud.” When her voice soars with, “Fly high and proud – and if you should fall, remember you almost had it all,” I see with piercing clarity how these two beautiful and courageous women who will likely never meet are inexplicably but absolutely connected across the miles.

Click below if you’d like to hear a bit of Judy’s song for Natalie. (and let us know if you should have any trouble with the link!)

Thanks for traveling with us! Gayle

Judy Singing to Natalie

Hazel With the Green Shoes: Roadtripping With A Raindrop Moment #1

June 20, 2013 by Gayle Harper 12 Comments

Note: This is the first installment of the Series “Roadtripping With a Raindrop,” highlighting moments from my travels along the Mississippi River, right through the heart of America. Many of these are from the “raindrop journey,” a 90-day road trip keeping pace with a raindrop as it traverses the nearly 2,500 miles of Mississippi River from the headwaters in Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico. Some will be included in the upcoming book of tales and photographs from that adventure and some will only be shared right here. I’ll introduce you to some of the amazing people I met, take you inside some unique cultures and lifestyles and share some crazy, serendipitous adventures as well as some of the life lessons that the River offers. Don’t miss a single Moment – If you haven’t already done so, you can sign up to be notified when a new post appears in the box below. Off we go!

Moment #1 – Hazel With the Green Shoes

The acclaimed Guthrie Theater in downtown Minneapolis has a crazy snout protruding from its back – the “Endless Bridge.” It’s a 178-foot cantilevered lobby that, along its length, frames some of the historic mill district’s most renowned views.

Guthrie Theater, Minneapolis, Minnesota

The real treat, however, is at the end, where an open-air deck overlooks a broad panorama of the Mississippi River as it rolls over St. Anthony Falls and under the iconic Stone Arch Bridge.

Stone Arch Bridge across the Mississippi River at Minneapolis

The reflective surfaces make it a photographer’s playground – and if you are lucky enough to catch an eye-popping blue sky with marshmallow clouds, it’s a good time to be thankful for the extravagance that digital photography allows. (If I had to pay for all that film and processing….yeeesh!) I play with abandon, sandwiching the views between the sky above and its twin image below. There’s music on the breeze and in the mall area below, I see canopy tops and shoppers at the Mill City Farmer’s Market, and I know that is my next stop.

The historic mill district of downtown Minneapolis and the Mill City Farmers Market

If I had a kitchen, I’d be filling my arms with gorgeous produce. Since my trendy downtown loft didn’t come with cooking facilities, I content myself with people-watching and accumulating nominations for my lunch. Winning out over the Tibetan dumplings and the walleye sandwich is the intriguing sweet potato taco. I take my prize and settle on a top step, with a primo view of the colorful parade of people.

A half-dozen steps below me, a little strawberry-blonde cutie in a red dress spins around to look at me, then waves and beams up a whole-body smile. When I smile and wave back, she springs to her feet, marches up the stairs and plops down beside me. Feeling no need for preliminaries, she pokes out a tiny foot and says, “See – I didn’t wear my sandals today because I wanted to wear my green shoes.” Her Mom, who looked startled at first, is now watching us with amusement as we talk about today’s choice of shoes.

“My name is Hazel,” says my new little friend with a decisive nod, then she carefully unfolds two fingers and holds them up, “and, I am two years old!” Then, just in case I don’t quite get it, she holds up two fingers on the other hand and says emphatically, “Two!”

Hazel with the Green Shoes

With that established, she scoots a little closer to me and we chat about the sweet
potato tacos, which she and her Mom have just finished sharing. Then, satisfied
that we have taken care of business, she gives me a serene little Buddha-smile
and quietly turns her attention to the procession of shoppers below us. And there we sit, just inches apart, sharing a sunny and companionable silence until her Mom calls up that it is time to go.

Moments like these are like luminous pearls that shine forever in the heart of every traveler, reminding us that innocence and open-heartedness sees no boundaries.

Shine on, little Hazel!

Love, Gayle

Roadtripping With a Raindrop

June 14, 2013 by Gayle Harper 2 Comments

An email came in a few days ago from Gary Lindberg. No bells were rung at first by his name, but he reminded me that we had met beneath the 3^rd Avenue Bridge in Minneapolis while I was on my raindrop journey following the Mississippi River. It took just a minute of trolling through my memories to come up with the sparkly blue Saturday afternoon in September that we met. It was Day 19 of the 90-day journey (90 days because that is how long it takes a single drop of water to make the trip) – and I had spent the morning strolling through a Farmer’s Market and touring downtown Minneapolis on a Segway (great fun!).

Segwaying in downtown Minneapolis

I had just missed the finish of the Blubber Run, a 5K family fun run in which participants are encouraged to wear their craziest costumes and the rest stops feature beer, root beer and optional water. I passed a couple of jolly swashbucklers
on their way to make merry at the BBQ and brews tent who were downright jubilant when I asked them to pose for a photo.

Pirates of Minneapolis

Then I followed the Oom-pah-pah’s to a park beneath the bridge where dancers were stomping and swirling to a Polka band. After chasing a few of them with my camera, especially this playful woman in her green beer stein glasses, I stood off to the side, smiling at all the high-spirited, animated dancers of all ages.

Polka Dancers

That’s when I met Gary – a traveler himself who has hiked more than 20,000 miles, he knows that the people we meet on our travels are the heart of every journey. We swapped stories, exchanged cards and wished each other happy trails and the encounter joined the hundreds of others that made my 90-day adventure downright magical. The moment might have faded into oblivion, but Gary has followed the blog and reached out the other day just to say hi – and brought it back to life!

That got me thinking…the upcoming book features some of the interesting people, serendipitous experiences, and unforgettable moments of the 90 days, but obviously there are many, many more (or the book would be too hefty to lift). And – as Gary reminded me – they are too good to forget!

So, here’s what we are going to do…next week we will begin a series, “Roadtripping With a Raindrop,” that will bring you a moment, at random, from somewhere in my travels along the Mississippi River. I will introduce some fascinating people, share some things I learned about life along the River and take you to some totally surprising places. So – pack your road snacks! If you haven’t already done so, you can sign up to be notified when a post appears in the column at the right – and please do spread the word to other roadtrippers who would like to join us. I promise this will be fun!

Also – if you are one of the awesome people I met and you would like to remind me of a moment – please do! Just post a comment or send me an email. As always, this is the most fun when you participate.

I’ll see you next week with “Moment #1 – Hazel With the Green Shoes” – don’t miss it!

Happy Friday! Gayle

FOR OUR FATHERS

June 7, 2013 by Gayle Harper 10 Comments

In the midst of all the memories that have crumbled and faded with the years, a few stand like crystals, perfectly preserved and shining like the moment they were created. One of mine is the first time I saw the Mississippi River. I was nine and the oldest of three squirming around the back seat of our blue and white DeSoto. “Sit up, kids, and look out the windows,” said my Dad, “we are about to cross the Mississippi River.” I sat up on my knees as the high iron bridge rumbled beneath us and when I could see that enormous expanse of murky water spreading below, it felt like the world just stopped. When we finally reached the other side and were deposited into a different state, I spun around to watch it go and then exploded into a dozen questions, all trying to be asked at once. Where does it go? Where did it come from? How far is that? Why is it that color? Can we go closer and see it? Dad did his best to answer and then said, “OK, listen carefully and I will teach you to spell its name.”

And so it happened that for the remaining miles of that trip, I chanted endlessly, “M-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-humpback-humpback-I.” (I thought for years that my clever Dad made that up!) In all the years since then, with every crossing of the great River, I hear that in my head and smile. I lost my Dad 23 years ago when he was just 65, but I treasure this link between Dad and the River.

As Father’s Day approaches, other random memories of Dad have been surfacing and I’d like to share a few…

He loved a good joke – he would latch onto one and tell it until he had completed the rounds of everyone he knew!
April Fools’ Day might have been his favorite holiday. I’m sure he started planning weeks in advance. He got me good many times, but my crowning achievement was when I emptied the sugar bowl and replaced it with salt and he put a couple of big honkin’ spoonsful on his cereal!
There were Daddy-Daughter dances when I got a new dress and he bought me a corsage and I knew he was the handsomest Dad and the best dancer there!
There were countless weekends at the lake learning to water ski and then teaching every other friend interested with Dad patiently circling around to try once more to get that newbie up. The funniest of all was a family friend who tried to learn as an adult and just couldn’t manage to get her butt out of the water. After one especially looong attempt, she yelled so it echoed across the lake, “All Right! I’ve now had a 50-yard douche and I am DONE!” I thought my Dad would fall out of the boat he laughed so hard!
There were family vacations with all of us layered in a pop-up camper and everyone trying to fall asleep before Dad did because he snored like a buzz saw – and no one ever succeeded!
There were the really bumpy times between us when he was a bullheaded German and I was a headstrong 15-year-old, certain that the love of my life was a boy he didn’t like. We were each immovably anchored in our stubbornness and clashed like a couple of mountain goats.
There was the indescribable expression on his face when I placed his first grandchild in his arms. That was as close as I ever came to seeing him cry.
There is the way he adored my mother, always calling her “the most beautiful woman alive” and showing us daily the depth of human love that is possible.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad! You live on in the hearts of all who knew and loved you!

And to all you fathers out there – Happy Father’s Day!

And to the great Mississippi River that the Native people of the Ojibwe tribe named Misi-ziibi, which is often translated as “Father of Waters,” – happy Father’s Day to you too!

I would LOVE it if you would take a minute and think about your Dad or your own experience of being a Dad, or the father of your children or the Father of Waters or anything else this stirs in you and share it with us. This blog is at its best when it is a conversation between us all! Thanks! Gayle

Wesley Edwin Freyer
1924 – 1990
My Dad

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