Saying Goodbye to a Friend

Sept, 2004

There was a hint of fall in the air, as the edges of the leaves on some of the Cottonwood trees had started to turn yellow and the Sumac had turned dark red.  After my six hour drive to Sparks the night before, I was happy to be outside in the Niobrara River valley soaking up some of Nebraska’s beauty.    I had come at the invitation of a family to participate in a ceremony for a friend.        

After teaching for twenty-three years at Fremont High School, Lou Christiansen did something that I always thought was neat - he bought a town.  I remember telling people I had a friend who bought a town, just to see what type of reaction they would have.   Of course I wouldn’t expand on the fact that whole town was primarily a general store and a school house.  It was far more fun leaving them to wonder.  

But this morning I set out on the river alone. 

I rented a one man kayak from Dryland Aquatics in Sparks. And after visiting with Louise Heinart who ran the general store in town, I boarded the bus that took me to the starting location for my ½ day trip.  The bus was filled with loud kids singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall, accompanied by their fathers on a father-child weekend out of Lincoln.  I was more then ready to quietly slip onto the water and begin my trip to Smith Falls.

As I floated down the Niobrara, Lou’s voice drifted into my mind as I recalled previous trips. I could hear him talking about the history and the nature of the valley.  Once we spent a week together hiking trough the valley, discovering waterfalls seldom ever seen, crossing the remote Sandhills to connect small fingerlings that shot off the main valley, only to find ourselves walking though large patches of poison ivy.   Or visiting with the locals and hearing the tales of lore.  Lou loved the valley, so much so that during his 14 years at Sparks, he risked being disliked by the locals as he persistently pursued the Scenic River designation to protect the Niobrara for future generations.  

After three hours, my kayak went aground on the bank where the stream from Smith Falls dumps into the river.  As I pulled myself up and headed for the falls, I marveled at how much it had changed.  When Lou and I explored this place so many years ago, this entire area was a pasture, with small irrigation channels spread across the bottom ground like a spider web to water the grass for the cows.  Their were no signs telling us what to do, or pointing us where to go, you just followed the dirt path that lead back to the beautiful falls.  And even though - without debate - these changes are necessary for the protection of the area, I missed the more rugged and innocent place I once knew. 

 Leaving my kayak by the river, I walked up to the park office and jumped into my car to meet at the designated time with the friends and family of Lou.   Arriving back in Sparks, Lou’s wife, Jan joined me, as we lead a caravan of vehicles to a special place along the river.  Stopping at one of the first places the family ever camped in the valley, the large group walked together down to the bank of the river.  On April 26^th, 2004, Lou had died of a heart attack in Norfolk Nebraska.  But on that sunny afternoon we said goodbye to Lou at the place he loved.  Words were spoken, and flowers were gently laid on the river as an offering.   Before I left, I touched the cool fast running water one last time to say thank you to the man whose mark will be enjoyed by countless generations as long as the Niobrara river races to the sea.    

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