Modest Midwestern Mysticism on the Mississippi
A couple of days ago I left work relatively late, around 7:00 pm. The building I am working in right now is located at 5th and Payson in Quincy, about five blocks from the Mississippi River. I can look down Payson and see the river whenever I am crossing the street, and that’s always a good feeling – I always like looking at the river.
I made my usual glance to the river as I was walking out of the building Wednesday evening, and was pleasantly surprised by a gorgeous sunset, which was reflecting off the river and looking so lovely. I knew right away that I wasn’t going home after all; I was going to the river. I drove down to Clat Adams Park, spent some time watching the river and sunset, and took the picture below of the Bayview Bridge.
Bayview Bridge, Quincy, IL, September 28, 2011
Clat Adams Park is a lovely park with (to my ears) an odd-sounding name that doesn’t quite jibe with its energy and sense of place. It overlooks a very wide spot on the river, about a mile wide (and I think it is one of the widest spots on the river north of St. Louis, but don’t quote me on that). The river has its own presence anyway, but it is so wide at this point that the sense of silent but tremendous forces at work is palpable. And there is always a hint of danger, in that opaque, muddy brown rolling water – the Mississippi is not a gentle or forgiving river, but Sam Clemens did a much better job describing that than I ever could. The park is also located between two bridges carrying traffic into and out of Quincy – one of older design (Memorial Bridge) and one modern (Bayview Bridge). Just to the north of the park is the mouth of Quincy Bay, its still, glass-like waters framed by Quinsippi Island to the west, and the riverbank to the east. A natural flowing vitality, an understated but optimistic American dynamism and a sense of serenity seem to swirl around this spot on the river. I’d call it a modest mystical place. Mystical, of course, because of all the energy described above, and modest because this is a sensible small Midwestern town and mystical stuff just doesn’t happen here. Maybe in a forest somewhere or an old Indian burial ground, but not here.
Ah – but Quincy was built on the river bluff, and a lot of old Indian burial mounds were razed to do it. A few are left, in Indian Mounds Park. I think the Indians who built those mounds knew something about the river and the bluffs that small-town Midwesterners are too sensible to feel. The veil between heaven and earth just seems a little thinner around the river, the ground a little more sacred. A good place to bury the dead, think about life, and perhaps gain a little insight into the mystery of it all.
The insight that comforted me two evenings ago, as I stood watching the sunset and its reflection on the rippling water, was this: “Life is about choice. You can stay; you can go; you can take shelter until your time is right. It will all work out in the flow of time.”
Uncategorized | Angel | 
September 30, 2011 9:18 pm
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