Hannibal
Kathleen here
“One can sit on the pilot-house for a few hours and watch the low shores, the ungainly trees and the democratic buzzards, and then one might as well go to bed. One has seen everything there is to see.”
Mark Twain
What a lovely couple of days we have spent, and right along my favorite water way.
Hannibal, Missouri rests on the banks of the Mississippi River about an hour south of the Iowa border. Had it not been for a “favorite son,” it would have been a forgotten quiet little river town with memories of long ago showboats, and watchful eyes for today’s long tow boats.
I spent the day gazing at beautiful old buildings and century old homes proudly inviting visitors to take a walk along streets shaded in ancient oak trees. Wherever one goes in Hannibal, a reminder of a famous little boy and his side kick can be seen on store fronts, or street corners. Museums and theaters proudly display artifacts from their childhood in the mid-1800s.
I browsed through museums imagining Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn with Becky Thatcher trailing behind. I saw the famous white coat that Samuel Clemons always wore. Pictures of life on the Mississippi River made me lonesome for my own childhood along the same river back in Northeast Iowa. I toured Mr. Clemons’ childhood home and bought a couple of books. Do you know where Samuel Clemons got his pen name: “Mark Twain?”
He worked many years on Mississippi Riverboats. A riverboatman cried “mark twain” when the depth of the water was safe for the boat to float over. A fathom is a maritime unit of depth equivalent of two yards; “twain” is an archaic term for two. The cry “mark twain” meant “there are 12 feet of water under the boat and it is safe to pass.”
A name fitting for a writer who loved the river and whose stories entertained us throughout our own childhood. Our day spent in Hannibal was pleasant, with autumn sites and smells in the air. A tow boat pushed a line of barges south and a mighty goose gathered his flock overhead. Leaves whirled in the breeze while we awaited night fall.
Hannibal, a small town whose beloved fans of its famous “son” refused to let it be forgotten.
