Doreen LoCicero <DCLoCicero@aol.com>
I have seen the Mississippi River in my cross country excursions, always at different places, and even from the sky. It was always very muddy and I think looks like a river of chocolate milk. That's all I know of the Mississippi...but I do have other river knowledge...
I grew up on the banks of the Delaware River. We had bought a small cottage on a 1/4 acre of land in Pennsylvania when I was ten years old with $3000 that my mother inherited from an insurance policy. It was all that she had to remember her father by, who was killed one very dark night driving home from a bar in Jacksonville, Florida. They said that he had died instantly. That didn't console us much. It was the cabin that eventually brought solace.
They called the cabin "Daddy's Dream" in memory of my grandfather --who liked nothing more than fishing for catfish with cane poles from the banks of any stream while drinking beer and smoking a corncob pipe. I spent every summer there from the time I was 10 until I was 17.
We also drove to the mountains in the winter to go sledding and in the spring, just to check on things at the cabin. In the spring, the Delaware was swollen with melted snow. It rushed through the gorge...and looked like the Mississippi to me, chocolate colored and wide.
One spring, my sister and I took our canoe to the other side, to the banks of New Jersey. It was a dangerous crossing for two young girls. We furiously paddled across what was generally slow moving deep water, so clear in the summer that you could see fish moving among the rocks, across water transformed that spring to torrents of chocolate, with small chunks of ice crashing into and scraping across the metal canoe. When we finally reached the other bank, we unexpectedly surged upriver in a back flow from the rapids, and there we saw bobbing, encased in a large piece of ice, a perfectly formed tiny fawn.
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