The results are in. Spokanites are moved and inspired by the Spokane River.
Shocking right? Well, not exactly. I mean I knew, you knew, we all knew. The Spokane River is a constant source of creative inspiration.
Image via Wikipedia
I’m talking of course about the Creative Writing Challenge I partnered with RiverSpeak to present during the month of April. “Writing for the River” was RiverSpeak’s April Creative Challenge. RiverSpeak, a non-profit forum, communications hub and just general catalyst for Spokane’s art scene does monthly creative challenges. During April, Earth Month, I teamed up with them for a fun, creative writing challenge around the theme, “What does a clean Spokane River mean to you?”
Though the number of submissions were low, the quality is tip top.
So without further ado, here are the submissions. If you’d like to hear some of these read aloud, stop by Spokane’s Earth Day event on Saturday, April 23rd. The reading will take place at 3 p.m.
Andrea Larson writes:
Everytime I see the Spokane River I feel drawn. I feel drawn to its power,its strength, its wild abandonment.
I’ll never forget ?shing with my father, sharing irreplaceable moments with him. Moments only him and I shared, no one else.
The most powerful ?ash of fear I ever felt was rafting the river, and coming upon the rapids of the bowl and pitcher, I thought I was going to be smashed and drowned.
I’m happiest when the twilight is falling, the sounds are still, and the water smells green and clean.
I never asked why is it here, who made it, or where is it going. I only want it to be.
Megan Langfitt writes:
Every time I see the Spokane River, I think of all the times my friends and I have walked along the river to downtown with the street lights sparkling in the water and the current pulling along beside us. The river is a companion, traveling along with us on our adventures, an embodiment of Spokane. As a representative for the area, the river slowly worked on me, like water on stone, bringing me deeper and deeper into the landscape of this high alpine desert and prairie, carrying me away from my homeland of ocean and Olympic Mountains to the feet of ponderosa pines.
I’ll never forget the time that my fiancée and I sat alongside the bridge by the Gonzaga Law School at the beginning of our relationship and watched the waterwalkers trip along the ripples of the water. This was his special thinking place from when he was a child and I was grateful that he wanted to share it with me. We perched on the rocks by the shore, mostly successful at avoiding getting a sharp prod in the butt. The water was clear enough at the shallows that I could see the tan river bottom and tiny black fish lazily paddling around, stopping every few moments to flick above the surface to snatch at clouds of gnats buzzing above the surface. It was exciting to see this small food change interaction. It is comforting that the river still supports life despite sightings of rusty mattresses and trash bags from the Centennial trail. I want those fish to grow up to fill the river and feed the many birds that gather on the water in the spring and fall. Those sightings too have become important moments in my relationship both with my fiancée and with this city.
The most powerful moment I have ever had concerning the Spokane River was standing on the suspension bridge at the end near the falls in the springtime with the water roaring so loudly that my ears were ringing. The white water foamed and thundered across the rocks while the wind whipped the water up into the air, soaking me to the skin, though I stood more than twenty feet above the turmoil. The strength of the river made me feel tiny and I was afraid that the bridge cables would snap and send me plummeting down into the roiling water to be crushed on the rocks. It looked like a white water rafter’s paradise, but certainly not mine.
I’m happiest strolling on a sunny day where the blue sky is reflected in the water of a slower river and the wildlife is out and about, the world a cacophony life. Marmots slouch fearlessly along the trail while the birds call from the leafy trees, flitting around my head. The only danger is the need to dodge bikers ripping along the path!
Recently I drove along Upriver Drive and noticed a large brick building along the banks of the river and it made me realize that I never asked about the history of the river, whether mills were common, if barges puffed their way up and down the current. Coming from the western side of the state and the sprawling Puget Sound, I had not thought that the Spokane River was large enough to support commerce and community, but now I am curious to see if my conception of the river as provincial was incorrect and whether the people and the river were far more closely tied in the past than they are today. No one boats on the river thanks to the hydroelectric dam and only a few crazy Gonzaga students swim in it. The Spokane River is a river that runs through a city, but does not seem to be a part of the city’s life. I hope that some time in the near future Spokane takes a river that is in its heart, to its heart.
Mack Salmon writes:
Ode to the Salmon in the River
Every time I see the Spokane River,
Roaring streams I feel through me and I shiver,
Gingerly in this nature’s fishbowl of emotions,
Synergy,
Life.I’ll never forget the gazelle drinking from its well so deep,
A holy matrimony of water and beast,
A feast,
Nature’s high priest,
Me at the bottom, drifting harmoniously to sleep.The most powerful current can not hide,
The pollution, poison, now seeping in from aside,
Strangling me,
Slowly, down to earth,
Like I was part of a salmon-stromboli, dirt.I’m happiest when I find a pocket of pure,
Water, taking me back,
To the shores up North,
And so forth,
Stop! Go.I never asked for it to be this way,
The strangling of our river, giving me cirrhosis of the liver
I hope and pray,
O’Riverkeeper, don’t make me a filet,
But on your promise of life in the Spokane River…
… Please…
… Deliver.
Shanti Perez writes:
The Spokane River Speaks, If Only We Will Listen
Every time I see the Spokane River I try to imagine what it sounded like hundreds of years ago before dams were built and salmon runs extinguished. In my imagination, a deeper, wilder river emerges, a river roaring so loud during spring run-off that human conversations near its banks were drowned in thriving river song, a river that, in order to cross, one had to swim or canoe. A river minus tires, microscopic manmade compounds, and so many homicide victims’ bodies, a whirlpool of death and pollution now too invasive to erase.
I’ll never forget that the Spokane River once sang clear notes that echoed across the valley, un-muffled by the collective hum of automobiles on asphalt. That the water, so pristine, could nourish those who drank from it, or that salmon, said to be as large as men, fought the current’s strumming fingers to make way to their breeding grounds.
The most powerful natural element in this valley now called home to many, the Spokane River tells a story of hope and industry, but, more importantly, it also speaks about the failed domestication of nature’s power. Through carelessness and greed the river has been shackled, depleted, and beaten into a state from which some say it may never recover.
I’m happiest when I watch herons, grebes, Canada geese, and wild mallards swimming and resting in the Spokane River and on its now paved banks, but I cannot forget the times I can only imagine. The Spokane River is but a shadow of its former self, a dirty trickle tampered with and bridled for industry. To lighten my heart I try to think of a time when like-minds will influence the way the river is nurtured in order to bring it back so that its pulse strengthens and its ecosystems thrive again.
I never asked the river how to give back all that’s been taken for fear that the answer will devastate me, but it’s not about me. That’s the first thing I realize. The truth can only be gleaned from listening to the river itself, asking if it needs more freedom, less poison leeching from the ground above, and how many human minds it will take to translate the Spokane River’s message so that everyone can hear it.
