From On the River
A Story From Skipper It was a sunny, cool day in September. River Park had his normal patrons strolling about enjoying the weather. One particular gentleman on a bike decided to break the barrier between strangers and tell a story. His name was Skipper.
Skipper: Hey. Did you see the fountain?
He said this, while jumping quickly off his bike.
Stranger: Yeah, are you talking about the water wheel? The stranger trying to not look to startled or annoyed.
Skipper: No, the suds in the fountain?
Stranger: What suds? There isn’t any suds.
Skipper smiles like he as a secret.
Skipper: There were… One day me and my buddies put dish soap in the fountain. You know how much you have to use. He doesn’t wait for answer. You can’t use the small containers. No, you have to use the gallon containers and you can’t just throw them in. You have to cut the sides like this. He says all this while demonstrating how to cut an invisible detergent bottle. You know how many we threw in? FOUR of them! He looks for a reaction.
Stranger: Holy Shit, that’s a lot.
Skipper: You should have seen it. There were suds hitting the wall of the museum and then the suds started to run down the hill into the river. Everything was covered in bubbles. The best part though was watching the Museum snobs coming out with their suits and clipboard. They looked so confused while lifting their legs trying not to get wet. Me and my buds just stood there passing a ‘j’ watching. Yeah you should have seen it everything even down to the river was covered in suds. He grabs the stranger’s arm and directs their attention to the hill. Another cool thing to do. When snow covers the side of the hill in the winter. Stomping your name out on the side of the hill. I don’t stomp small letters. No big letters that cover the whole side of the hill. He holds his hands out a couple feet apart to show how wide he makes the letters. I stomp my name Skipper and a flower at the end of it. And if you really want to impress your girlfriend write her name in the snow.
Stranger: You come here a lot?
Skipper: Yeah, I grew up here. Do you know what your standing on?
The stranger looks down. This used to be sacred Indian burial ground. Those mounds. Those mounds are fake. The rich white man disgraced this land by removing the Indian remains. And you know all they put up to remember it is a small plague.
He points at the north end of the park.
You know how I know all this? Stranger: How?
Skipper: My mom was Cherokee. I’m half Cherokee. My mom always talked about the white man. I don’t come to any festivals in this park because this is sacred grounds.
Stranger: Yeah, I understand why.
Skipper: Have you read the plague? The stranger shakes their head no.
You really should. It leaves out the rich white man but it tells you about what was here.
Stranger: Do you know anything else about the river?
Skipper: Yeah. You know the intersection of Division and Fulton. It makes a perfect ‘T’. You know it. The stranger shakes their head yes.
You know the church right there.
The stranger says no with a look of confusion.
The one with the Celtic crest.
The stranger says yes, but really has no idea.
It is made from the limestone from river. There’s limestone in the river. You know how I know that?
Stranger: No
Skipper: Because I play the bagpipes. I have the best bagpipe band in the state.
He says this with a twinkle in his eye. Looks to the bridge and sees their classmates seating down to have a meeting then turns back to Skipper.
Stranger: Would you like to come talk to my class, they are right over there on the bridge.
Skipper: No, not really.
With a look of annoyance
Stranger: Okay well I have to go, but you’re more than welcome to come talk to us we’ll be on the bridge all winter. Anyways, it was nice talking to you. Skipper: Yeah. Don’t forget to read the plague.
He says this while climbing back onto his bike.
Stranger: Okay I will, have a nice day.
| 42.96909193806134° N, 85.676971077919° WLatitude: 42°58′8.731″N Longitude: 85°40′37.096″W |
