Because My Parents Couldn’t Keep Me Out of the Creek
a brief history of me and water
My history starts with water. I was born half-a-mile from the Indian River in Florida and a little more than a mile from the Atlantic Ocean. My family had me out on the beach before my earliest memories. My momma is an ocean girl herself. She’s always finding ways to be next to salt water. I suppose we come by it natural as I make the 6th generation of our family to find life alongside the Indian River. My Great, great, great grandpa Ruben Russell Frazier brought his family down from Illinois and with the help of a mule-drawn raft, made a home among palmetto and mosquitos in what is now Stuart, Florida.
My time in Florida was short as by the time I was five—and with a brief stint at my Dad’s childhood home in Pell City—we found our family—Mom, Dad, and me—in east Ohio. Our yard wasn’t terribly large, but it felt that way, and it was bordered on two sides by a little flow of water called Sycamore Creek. I grew up a moderately feral child, preferring to be outdoors. The knees of my pants and tips of my shoes sported constant grass stains.
Armed with a pocketknife and my parents’ solemn words of “I DON’T CARE WHICH BUT PICK ONE: INSIDE OR OUTSIDE,” I spent most of my time outside. Furthermore, the only rule I ever intentionally broke—and broke on the regular—was “stay out of the creek.” I couldn’t be kept from it though, and I think my parents realized this early on. There was always something happening down by the creek I could skip rocks, redirect the water’s flow, watch the ever-turning life cycles of tadpoles, minnows, and flukes, and learn about the way water works. I think one of the best gifts you can give a child is access to water and sticks and rocks.
By 11 my family moved back to Pell City. We had visited this version of home every year making the 10-hour drive whenever we could and now we were back for good. Here, we landed along the banks of Logan Martin Lake which is an Alabama Power Company project damming up the Coosa River. If you want a good collection of poems to read about this place, I recommend Known by Salt by my friend Tina Mozelle Braziel who also grew up along the Coosa. Reading her words about the area feel true and like home.
I didn’t learn how to swim until the summer of my 11th year. That may seem like an anomaly to many southern folks, and it is. But there were not a whole lot of places to learn how in central Ohio. And while I love water in many ways, I do have certain aversions to it. One day around the age of 3, while spending time with my momma in the kitchen as she cooked, I busied myself smelling her full array of spices and herbs This went great until I got a little too enthusiastic with the cracked black pepper. In cartoon-land, a nose full of pepper makes you sneeze. In Halley-land, it burns like crazy to the point of instant meltdown. My dad, not knowing what else to do, snatched me up and shoved my head under the sink for a good ol’ fashioned waterboarding. Did it work? Yes. Have I hated water on my face and up my nose every day since then? Also, yes.
Yet with our move back to Alabama, learning to swim was sort of do-or-die. I resisted deep water opting only for short-water experiences. I liked what I could trust, and I could trust water I could stand up in. But my great aunt’s pond down in Monroeville made a fool of me more than once, and our family spent the summer months out on the lake tubing and boat riding. So, I learned.
My first official introduction to the Cahaba as an early teen was as many people’s first introductions go: through the Cahaba River Society. The CRS has a mission for educating Alabama youth on the importance of the Cahaba and since 1996 has facilitated bringing over 40,000 students to the river. I was one of those students, and it was an unforgettable experience. Since then, I’ve found various ways to take myself down to its waters. My friends John and Alyson have also been good stewards of the river and have taken me fly fishing and canoeing several times before getting my kayak for Christmas in 2018 (thanks mom and dad).
Since then, I’ve spent I don’t know how many hours on the Cahaba kayaking. I’ve gone solo, and I’ve been with friends and have had the chance to introduce multiple people to the river. I’ve seen it in every season and at every time of day (and night). Each moment on the waters is different from the last and all of them are a gift. That’s the thing about nature, if you show up expecting to find something surprising, you will. Hopefully you’ll find the beauty alongside me as I share this journey with you. This is a chance for me to experience the Cahaba in an incredibly intimate way. I’m grateful for this trip and for each of you. If you’re new to the Cahaba, I hope you grow to love it as I do. And if you already know and love this river, welcome, it's good to have you here. If you’ve a mind to, please leave a comment sharing your experience with the Cahaba. I love hearing how the river brings us together
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I can't wait for my first paddle on the Cahaba. :)
I am looking forward to seeing the Cahaba, as I've never been. I do enjoy the creeks, rivers and lakes in my neck of the woods. I know I will enjoy experiencing it vicariously through you.