Outside Riverview High School. Photo credit: Jobs With Justice
In 1975, when I was 7 years old, my family bought a house in North County, St. Louis on the Missouri side of the Mississippi River. My grandfather, already living in St. Louis, gave my parents the idea we would have more opportunities there, and it indeed pulled us from lower middle class to upper. St. Louis, being a very conservative town, resisted minorities moving to their pristine neighborhood through intimidation and systematic tactics. But my brother Earl had used my grandfather’s address to attend Riverview Gardens High School which was a powerhouse in sports in the 70’s through the 90’s and the school made the decision to move a no-brainer.
Being the only minority in my third grade class, I had to wrestle and fight with my fellow students for being smarter, faster and different. Eventually, I gained acceptance for my athletic ability, rather than my character. As students we dealt with the pressures of separatism by driving to the Mississippi River levee and listening to music there to hide our friendships and keep the peace. We would go on float trips to the rivers of central Missouri, the Ozarks and the Meramac, sometimes hearing racial dialect yelled from the bluffs, but ignoring them as if numb to the situation.
I remember discussing diversity with my mother, Iveara Peoples. She always told me, “Once they get to know you, they will love you,” which still lives with me today. My mother was an All-State track star, born in Tennessee, who fell in love with an up and coming baseball player. She was very diverse woman, who survived the assassination of Martin Luther King to still love her state, her beloved, Elvis, along with Rod Stewart and the Beatles. After surviving losing her at 11, I went on to excel in academics and sports at Riverview Gardens High School, continued on to college and the rest is history.
As we drove through the floodplain where I developed my football skills to become the athlete I am today, all these old thoughts and experiences wander through my head and heart and I wished for closure. This beautiful iconic river I honor had again brought back a combination of love and discomfort.
We arrive at the boat ramp with high spirits meeting friends and well wishers. When I was young, 7 months out of the year, this land was flooded, swampy, mosquito infested floodplain that produced trophy mammals during deer season as well as prized waterfowl and fish. Now, as a State Conservation Area, there are fishermen, kayakers and nature lovers enjoying the day and I get to share the love of our river with the masses. Immediately I notice the diversity in the people and it made me smile inside.
We launch the Grasshopper and head towards the Confluence. The Grasshopper glides effortlessly through the water causing fishermen to stare as we head towards Duck Island. On the top end sat an eagle’s nest with a whole family intact. It made me reflect back to my childhood when we never saw eagles due to their deaths caused by DDT in the 1970’s. It was welcoming site to start the day.
Photo Credit: Ricymar Photography
We choose Mosenthein Island for our first camp, an island that looks directly at the neighborhood where my grandfather bought a house in the 1920’s. I spent my evening staring across the channel thanking the Creator for this perspective, a perspective I used to wish for when I was young and had no resources to get to the island. We used to think we would catch more fish if we could cross the channel like the rich kids. It must be good fishing since an eagle’s nest sat high in the trees.
The morning came quick and I was excited to know later that day we will pass by Jefferson Barracks Cemetery where my mother is buried. We took the back channel and witnessed a lone coyote swimming as if returning from a long evening. The Gateway Arch is in the distance.
Photo Credit: Dwaynep2010
I still feel discomfort and stress with my childhood experiences hovering over my shoulders, when we spot a great site for lunch, which happened to be Jefferson Barracks. I’m at peace enjoying lunch with my mother and friends. I felt a sigh of relief and was able to smile and celebrate her life through my path. An immature bald eagle crosses the bluffs and the healing continues.
Jefferson Barracks Cemetery. Photo Credit: Christina Rutz
A moment later a john boat approaches and I think, “I hope this goes well,” my historical instincts returning sharply. A lone fisherman, curious about our journey, introduces himself and gives us a history lesson about this stretch of river. At the end of the discussion, he offers us an already filleted catfish. I beam with hope and throw out the stereotypes of my childhood. As the trip continued, we met generous people along the way in Cairo, Hickman, New Madrid and Caruthersville.
This great river continues to blow my mind. It seemed as if we were being escorted by the eagles the whole way and I felt I was on a vision quest that was healing my soul.
Photo Credit: John Ruskey
Our captain guided us logistically through storms sometimes stopping in the distant to watch them develop and dissipate before our eyes. It was the first time I could see water falling from the sky as if the Creator was dumping a bucket of water. We experienced beautiful sunrises and rainstorms. Sunsets that lasted thirty to forty minutes.
Families of eagles were around every bend to the point where we stopped counting them. My plight and complex history will always be with me, but this expedition opened my eyes to today’s diverse reality and was needed in order for me to continue my stewardship to this river. Just like the meanders of the river, life is full of change and challenges. You must embrace the challenges of the present, heal the wounds of the past and prepare to face the future with open arms. Like the return of the eagles along the Mississippi River, I’m back.
-Mark River
Mark River is a big River guide
a youth leader for Quapaw Canoe Company,
and is also the Southern Ambassador for the 1Mississippi Campaign.