Coop's Corner: A Chance Meeting and A Thank You

Monday, June 3, 2013

A Chance Meeting and A Thank You

On the way home from the Hiawatha Rally this past Sunday, Dave and I stopped for a late (for me) breakfast, once again in Alma at our favorite place. In addition to the fine meals, they have other things are for sale; smoked meats, cinnamon rolls, T-shirts, hats, other knickknacks, local books about history and/or the Big River. Besides the trains that rumble only a few feet away from the west wall of the restaurant, the river and Lock and Dam #4 are only a matter of yards beyond the shore-hugging railroad tracks.

There's a bookshelf in the corner that more times than not, contains books by local authors; one author in particular himself drops the books off when he ventures in to town or stops by for a meal. His name is Kenny Salwey though more people know him as the Last River Rat. I own a copy of every book he's written, each of them autographed by him and all of them purchased from that little bookshelf in the diner.

Until Sunday morning, I'd never met the man even though he feels like an old friend from long ago.

Image courtesy of Amazon

Dave and I were mostly finishing up our omelets when I saw a couple walk in, the man instantly known to me; his hat the giveaway though I'd have known him without it. You should know that my heart started pounding and I suddenly couldn't wait to finish our coffees and get up from our table.

They had sat down only a table or so away from us and after begging their pardon, I looked both Kenny and his wife in the eye and said, "I want to thank you both for your books and to let you know how much I treasure them". Kenny writes or co-writes, his wife often does the illustrations.

Kenny shook my hand, his eyes sparkling and told me how much it meant for him to hear that. He right away wondered where I was from (a nearby River town) and when I told him, he nodded and it looked like he could instantly tell that I was someone, though in a different way, that felt the river as he does.

I never even told him my name and then apologized for interrupting their meal, leaving them to finish theirs.

The BBC filmed a documentary that played on The Discovery Channel about The Last of The River Rats. I've not seen it but will someday.

If you're interested, here an Ames, Iowa newspaper columnist explains Kenny much better than I can.

Late Sunday, before falling asleep, I pulled out one of my very worn copies and read two chapters. I fell asleep refreshed and renewed, almost always a cure for whatever might ail me.

The signed note in my book.......
May the Spirit of the River flow through you always.......The Last River Rat......Kenny Salwey

10 comments:

UnknownJune 4, 2013 at 10:13 AM
Coop:

You were so lucky to bump into him. I can't remember if I have ever bumped into anyone worth mentioning.

You should have bought another book and have BOTH of them sign it in front of you with a personal greeting

bob
Riding the Wet Coast
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TrobairitzJune 4, 2013 at 5:38 PM
Now that is cool to meet someone you so admire. I am sure you will treasure the meeting as much as the books.
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Martha June 4, 2013 at 6:07 PM
Those are great moments, especially when you admire someone as much as you do this man. And you get points for taking time to acknowledge him and share your thoughts. He may have driven home thinking "This is what makes it all worthwhile".
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DebJune 6, 2013 at 7:12 AM
That is awesome! Where can his books be purchased, or can they? I am very interested...

Guys like him are living at what I call the "genuine" level. Deep down genuine.

Thanks for posting this. I enjoyed reading about your encounter.
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)