I have grown up on the Cahaba River. We camped while Daddy checked his trotlines. We swam and played and explored all summer. Then when winter came along, we made campfires and rode in the back of pickup trucks up and down the banks.
It was mischievous to skip school and head over there to swim. We were stupid, the Principal Mr. Morris Moody, was not. Only one way into town and there he sat at the end of Main Street on our way back.
I took Jacob over as a baby and patted the water, “Cahaba River, Cahaba River”. Later that night, he proudly splashed back at me from the tub, “haba ribber momma, haba ribber”. Close son, close.
The river becomes popular this time of year. We now hold festivals, crown queens and host guided tours. Everyone heads to take pictures of our rare and beautiful Lily. Old folks say, “You should have seen it when I was young!”
And, this love of the river has carried on for at least the 5 generations of my Acker family that I know. Last year, Jacob proposed there and I gained a beautiful daughter.
He recently paid “big money” for an ancestry DNA test, the results were shocking to him, but no surprise to me. All these years, he thought blood flowed through his veins.
I knew it was the Cahaba.