CHEROKEE PARK and THE CALL OF THE RIVER

The park I am frequently drawn to as an adult is the same park that seemed magical to me as a child.  When I visit Cherokee Park near Colby, Wisconsin I feel as though I’ve walked back in time.  I can still picture swimming there among the huge rocks with my church youth group as a young teen.  It was always a race to see who could reach the biggest one first.  That would set off a wave of giggles as a group of us gathered on one rock or another.  After that we often went for walks through the beautiful wooded path nearby.  It was fun to follow the river, which often changed its path depending upon the current.  The culmination of our visit to the park was having a delicious barbecue in the old log cabin nearby where our youth group often had picnics and retreats.

Now it’s been nearly 50 years since those magical days, but I can still hear the raucous laughter of my friends.  Now I appreciate the stillness of the park and its natural beauty.  Kids no longer swim among the rocks, but I still love climbing on them and just sitting and listening to the rush of the river.  The path nearby seems more beautiful than ever and I feel an amazing sense of calmness.  Sometimes I’m lucky and spot a deer across the river’s edge.  I feel the poetic sense of nature.

A few years ago, a friend and I visited Cherokee Park with our two dogs, Dallas and Martha.  Dallas, a small dainty terrier, was always the scout running on ahead, checking everything out and then coming back to urge us on.  Martha, my golden lab, usually trailed behind.  There were so many little objects and animals to capture her attention.  Their puppy-like joy at running freely in the woods was infectious.  Thereafter Cherokee Park became a unique and wonderful place for all of us to visit. 

Our loyal and adventurous friends, Martha and Dallas, are sadly gone, but their spirit, as well as that of my childhood, will always be a part of Cherokee Park.  There are few places like it, at least for me.  Its essence is its simplicity and natural beauty, which also drew my ancestors to the area nearly one hundred years ago.  It speaks volumes about slowing down and letting go, trusting that all is right with the world.  I will always treasure time spent there.  I wrote this poem several years ago while sitting on one of those rocks, as time stood still and the river raced by.

CHEROKEE PARK

          Memories of shared glories, and treasure coves of years past.

          Waters rushing, through the rocks, of distant times.

          Flooded memories of childhood days, when life seemed infinitely simpler.

          Jumping from rock to rock, listening to the call of the river,

          Beckoning us to sit and reflect.

          A magical, enchanted place, like no other.