Old Muddy River



Old Muddy River

The river was called “Muddy River” by the local residents because it was almost a thick sludge instead of water. You couldn't see your hand held just below the surface because of the mud.

Its official name was Current River, a name translated from an old Indian name nobody remembered anymore. It was named Current River because of its many swift, treacherous currents. One could be swimming in a still-surfaced pool in the river when, suddenly, they would almost be swept away by a swift current flowing under the surface, giving no clue as to its existence.

I remember my near-drowning early in the summer one year. My sister and I had gone swimming with my uncle and his fiance, only a few years older than us. Neither of us could swim very well, so Memaw told Uncle, as we called him, to keep an eye on us.

My sister, Betty, and I were swimming in the middle of a narrow stretch of the river which had not previously revealed any swift currents. There were deep holes on the river bed, though, where currents had swirled and twisted a tornado of sand and silt, washing it further down the river and leaving the deep hole behind. When someone accidentally stepped into such a hole, they were promptly swirled down deeply, much as water being flushed down the toilet. If they were not a
good swimmer, they would be sucked under and drowned. It had happened the summer before, further down the river, to my best friend's brother. He was a great swimmer, but had been taken by surprise.

I was walking along happily in the river, when my sister dared me to walk across to the other side. The other side was very overgrown, no beach there, and was snake infested, it was told by the brave souls who dared cross over. I didn’t want to take the chance of meeting one of those snakes. But, my sister was younger. I couldn’t let her best me, even though she was a dare devil and I was not. So, we set off to wade across.

About half way across, I stepped into one of those infamous holes. Betty and I were walking side by side, so she knew immediately what happened. I began to swirl uncontrollably downward in a bottomless cyclone of water. I would surface from time to time, as the swirl spit me out briefly before sucking me back down.

In those days, girls wore swim caps, those rubbery helmets made to keep the hair dry. Betty grabbed for me to pull me out when I surfaced, but came up with nothing but my swim cap. Of course, she inadvertently pushed me further down when she
grabbed my cap. This continued, with Betty grabbing and getting a handful of hair and shoving me further under. This prevented me from gasping the moment of air I could have gotten.

I began to see spots before my eyes, and soon lost consciousness. Someone from the shore saw what was happening and came to our rescue, snatching me from the claws of that cruel death, taking me to shore and reviving me. I went home, wet, scared, and chagrined that Betty had done better than I had. But, that didn’t keep me from going swimming the very next week when Uncle went again.

After all, what else was there to do in a small rural community with not one other recreational activity.