Slowly, the world is opening up again, or at least attempting to. This virus has wreaked havoc on the entire world and no matter your opinion on how it’s been handled, without the quarantine it could have been far worse.

I’ve seen it repeated many times that the common flu kills more than COVID-19 and that’s true. But we have herd immunity and vaccinations for the flu and working knowledge of its general potential to cause severe sickness and death. COVID-19 is a brand-new virus and there is a good possibility that it has not shown the world its full potential yet. Staying home is our only real defense, for the moment.

But, the economy can only stand still for so long and it appears we have reached that point. In late April, some of the parks reopened around Murfreesboro and after a morning of shoveling dirt and pulling weeds, I decided to take the top outta Old Jeepster and go for a ride. My first stop was at Walter Hill recreation area. I was pleasantly surprised at the number of people who were there (kind of a step away from the norm for me, usually I don’t care for crowds). They must have had cases of the same cabin fever I was suffering from. So, I went down to the river, just below the dam.

Walter Hill, mid-afternoon, on a weekday. There is much uncertainty and anxiety in the world right now, but there are also some positive signs. This particular warm spring day gave those signs a chance to shine—signs like kids playing in the river water and their excited voices filling the air, voices of joy, voices of momentary crisis over a slight by another child or a scolding from a flustered mother, voices calling out “the water is so cold!” and laughter.

A thought came over me and I smiled. This is what it was like before computers, cellphones, Facebook, instant messaging and all the things that distract from everyday life. I found me a rock at the water edge, carefully took off my muddy boots and socks, and put my lily-white, sun-deprived feet in the water. That kid was right, this water is cold!

A small redheaded boy runs into the water after his older brother. He stops and gasps from the bite of the cold water, just as I did when I was his age. The older boys laugh and splash water at him. He’s a little younger, not as rough and tumble yet as the older boys. But it’s only a momentary lapse. He summons up his courage and plows straight ahead, unwilling to be left behind.

Two pretty young girls in summer dresses and a young man with a camera—either a boyfriend, brother or someone who is a denizen of the dreaded friend zone—pose for pictures at various picturesque spots around the park. They smile and pose together and separate. Then they make goofy faces and laugh at each other as they bound off to the next perfect picture spot.

There are children here casting nets in the water for minnows. It’s about all they can catch in that shallow water, although I’m sure any fish caught is a whale to them. There is a mother trying to bait a hook for her son. She is completely out of her element, and it shows. Above the dam, there is a romantic couple with their feet in the water, maybe exchanging lifelong commitments.

Thousands of gallons of water run over the dam, cascading on the rocks below, under the shadow of an old electric mill that hasn’t generated power for decades. I wonder how many memories have been made here, good or bad. If you lived for any length of time in this area, you almost certainly have a few for yourself. I know I do.

Now, the sun is beating down on me and I am in the beginning stages of a sunburn on the exposed skin poking out of my tank top. Tank top marks are my version of a farmer’s tan. I like this, and even when the quarantine is completely lifted, hopefully a little of this will remain. As stated, I have fond memories of this place as a child, during the dark ages of the ’60s and ’70s. Hot river rocks cooked my feet as I raced to the water, on those long ago mornings, only to be replaced by the biting cold water of Stones River water rushing over my feet. Back in those days we didn’t have to wear shoes to play in the water. Now, I wouldn’t wade out into that water without shoes on. Back in my childhood days, there was a bait shop just as you entered the Walter Hill area. It was a special treat if we got a bag of chips or some candy before we went down to the water. My mom or one of my aunts, would spread out a blanket on the hot rocks, sit and talk while cousins, brothers and sisters would run for the water. Those were good times and I look back on them fondly. This place feels smaller than when I was a child. Maybe the world was smaller then, but it sure felt big to me.

Epilogue: After my visit to Walter Hill, I opted to continue my adventure and rode to other boat dock and recreation areas, taking a leisurely drive down some country roads. As I was turning into East Fork boat ramp (my last stop before heading home), my Jeep died. I glanced down at the gauges and the old girl had overheated. She had been sitting still all winter and I’m sure the thermostat just stuck shut at my last stop at Nice Mill. I usually carry a small tool kit everywhere I go, but not today. On most days, this would be a real source of frustration for me, but not this day. Instead, I used my cellphone, which had politely not bothered me all afternoon, to Google and call a tow truck. For the hour it took him to arrive, I sunned myself on a surprisingly comfortable rock. Cost me a hundred bucks to get home, but the conversation was good and the weather was nice . . . circle of life.

If You Go:
Walter Hill Recreational Area
5636 Lebanon Rd., Murfreesboro
Open Daily, 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.