Last year, I decided to write about nature more, and one of the first subjects was to be rivers. I’m a big fan of trees and rocks, so I prefer rivers over oceans. Every inch of a river’s bank is unique, and I love spending time sitting or standing next to one.
Instead of writing about rivers, though, I’ve been working on a project that has taken much longer than expected. Even if I had gotten around to it, I'm sure I couldn't have written anything like The River's Tale.
My uncle, Jim Brown, passed away on January 12, 2016. He wrote this about six months before he died, and I'm happy to share it with you today.
The River’s Tale
I have always liked water. For water is God’s gift of life to
all creatures. Of the bodies of water on this earth, I prefer
the rivers and creeks.
Lakes and ponds are for the most part man made and have
nothing really to say to us. Instead, they lie still and speak
to us rarely and lull us into a somber numbness.
Oceans have much to say, being so old and ancient, but they
roar and shout and attempt to inspire us with their pure grand
spectacle. More often than not, they terrify us with their
sheer power and we wander not far into
their inviting blue depths.
But rivers and creeks, they speak of days gone by, in strange
tongues and languages spoken by long forgotten people,
who stood on the very spot where you stand, and gazed like
you on the bubbling water as it rushes past the stones and
boulders that vainly try to impede its flow.
remember and they continue to remember as long as they
tumble down from their airy home in the mountain tops,
towards their mother oceans from which they sprang,
only to be uptaken by the winds and breezes and then
dropped again on the mountain tops to begin the journey
back home again. To hear their stories, we only have to
sit quietly by their stream beds, and listen to our
minds ear, for speak they will.
In memory of James Troy Brown, Jr. (my dad's brother)
April 3, 1951- January 12, 2016