Take Me To The River: Thoughts on South Orange River Day
Cindy Hairston, South Orange
Anyone who knows me probably knows at least this one simple thing about me. I absolutely do not care for the cold.
So it may come as a surprise that one of my favorite days of the year in South Orange is River Day. Early May in New Jersey can still be quite miserable. In fact, it is often rainy and dreary. Trees and flowers are beginning to bloom but the air has yet to completely shake off that bite, that chill that settles into you. The kind of day that calls for reading a book by a cozy fire. Not for donning rain gear and boots and heading over to the Rahway to search and excavate trash from the river. And yet I love it and look forward to it every year.
There is something so deeply satisfying in physical work. I remember watching my father clearing the overgrowth behind our childhood home for hours as I played in the backyard. What my brother and I called the “forest primeval”. I had yet to understand the appeal of it all. I get it now. Now that I myself am 44 years old. I not only enjoy but crave and am thankful for the working of my body in completing a task.
River Day however is more than a just a tired body at the end of a long day. It is the gathering of fellow community members to clean up a small part of our Earth. It is trudging through cold water and silt, being mindful of tiny creatures beneath my boots. The joyful discovery of discarded objects. A flip phone, a tshirt, soooo many beverage bottles and yes even tires and bicycles. It is spending time with my children, delighting in their enthusiasm in caring for their community and planet. The changed perspective of being in the river as opposed to looking down at the river always makes me catch my breath. I am able to see the tiny plants and flowers on the riverbanks struggling to find their way to the sunlight. The sound of the water as it flows beneath and around me. The vista ahead as I see neighbors together, sometimes quietly focused, sometimes laughing and talking. Everyone in harmony, each trying to do their own small part.
Each year as the days unfold one by one beyond River Day, I have walked over the Rahway on the blue footbridge. Sometimes to the pool to enjoy sweet summertime days or to the Baird for the South Orange Public Library book sale or to the courts to play tennis. I have glanced down as I pass and noticed the collection of wrappers and bottles and trash that have begun to collect again. I have stopped to gather a few to throw away in the proper place and I have frequently sighed a bit in frustration at the laziness of those who choose to litter.
This year might be different. This crazy, topsy-turvy year. It is possible that River Day may be postponed, rescheduled, put on the back shelf temporarily with all of the other events and plans in our small town and around the world. The Rahway may not be provided with its annual tidying up. The momentary disentanglement from the manmade detritus on its banks and in its shallow bed may be put on hold. There is a sadness in that resides in that thought and yet also there is a quiver of hope. For I know that the river will be there, waiting. For me. For us. When we are able to leave our homes and gather again together, I know that we will eagerly grab our gear and return to the river and to each other.
So it may come as a surprise that one of my favorite days of the year in South Orange is River Day. Early May in New Jersey can still be quite miserable. In fact, it is often rainy and dreary. Trees and flowers are beginning to bloom but the air has yet to completely shake off that bite, that chill that settles into you. The kind of day that calls for reading a book by a cozy fire. Not for donning rain gear and boots and heading over to the Rahway to search and excavate trash from the river. And yet I love it and look forward to it every year.
There is something so deeply satisfying in physical work. I remember watching my father clearing the overgrowth behind our childhood home for hours as I played in the backyard. What my brother and I called the “forest primeval”. I had yet to understand the appeal of it all. I get it now. Now that I myself am 44 years old. I not only enjoy but crave and am thankful for the working of my body in completing a task.
River Day however is more than a just a tired body at the end of a long day. It is the gathering of fellow community members to clean up a small part of our Earth. It is trudging through cold water and silt, being mindful of tiny creatures beneath my boots. The joyful discovery of discarded objects. A flip phone, a tshirt, soooo many beverage bottles and yes even tires and bicycles. It is spending time with my children, delighting in their enthusiasm in caring for their community and planet. The changed perspective of being in the river as opposed to looking down at the river always makes me catch my breath. I am able to see the tiny plants and flowers on the riverbanks struggling to find their way to the sunlight. The sound of the water as it flows beneath and around me. The vista ahead as I see neighbors together, sometimes quietly focused, sometimes laughing and talking. Everyone in harmony, each trying to do their own small part.
Each year as the days unfold one by one beyond River Day, I have walked over the Rahway on the blue footbridge. Sometimes to the pool to enjoy sweet summertime days or to the Baird for the South Orange Public Library book sale or to the courts to play tennis. I have glanced down as I pass and noticed the collection of wrappers and bottles and trash that have begun to collect again. I have stopped to gather a few to throw away in the proper place and I have frequently sighed a bit in frustration at the laziness of those who choose to litter.
This year might be different. This crazy, topsy-turvy year. It is possible that River Day may be postponed, rescheduled, put on the back shelf temporarily with all of the other events and plans in our small town and around the world. The Rahway may not be provided with its annual tidying up. The momentary disentanglement from the manmade detritus on its banks and in its shallow bed may be put on hold. There is a sadness in that resides in that thought and yet also there is a quiver of hope. For I know that the river will be there, waiting. For me. For us. When we are able to leave our homes and gather again together, I know that we will eagerly grab our gear and return to the river and to each other.
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