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(My) River Teeth
By Stephanie Kemp
(My) River Teeth
By Stephanie Kemp
In 1995 I read a book of essays and stories by David James Duncan called “River Teeth.” It has never left my thoughts.
It changed how I move through the world, how I think of my own life and stories, how I try to get them down somehow, if only on a napkin, my hand, or whatever is available in the moment.
If I had a physical copy of the book, I would describe here what River Teeth are by stealing the author’s words, verbatim. Although I have purchased 14 copies since my initial reading, I have given them all away. A new (used) one is en route.
I will do my best here:
When a tree falls into a river, its natural course is to become one with the river, over time. It creates habitat, provides nutrients, shape shifts and eventually decomposes until it has completely washed away after contributing what it could to the ecosystem to which it has come to belong.
Every tree that falls into a river benefits the river in multiple ways, by both its mere presence and active contribution. The cycle of a river’s health and life depends on (or at least benefits from) these fallen trees.
But in each tree (I really wish I could steal from David Duncan here), there are knots. Knots of wood that never lose their shape, their original form, their detail. They don’t become part of the river’s ecosystem, they stay intact as what they were and have always been. They literally last forever.
These are the River Teeth of his title, and he goes on to explain that he believes every person has their own life story versions of River Teeth - the stories that we live and hold onto that never come apart, never leave us to become part of something else, never shape shift. Never decompose.
They are the stories that make or break our hearts, terrify or thrill, save or hurt us. They are uniquely ours and they never fade or become one with an ecosystem outside of their original host.
Since I first read this book, I have never stopped thinking about and trying to collect my own River Teeth, all 55 years of them. They make my soul both sing and sob, motivate and paralyze me, and keep coming at me and through me, thank god.
The river in this picture is from my favorite place on the planet. It holds my childhood, my memories, the ashes of my aunt and my stillborn son. Soon it will hold the ashes of my mom. While I can’t get there often and it is no longer mine to call home, I can be there anytime I need to feel it, because it is - as you can probably guess - one of my River Teeth.
I am grateful to David James Duncan and so glad I finally wrote this down.
I hope I got close and promise to work hard to pay back (and forward) the loan.
It changed how I move through the world, how I think of my own life and stories, how I try to get them down somehow, if only on a napkin, my hand, or whatever is available in the moment.
If I had a physical copy of the book, I would describe here what River Teeth are by stealing the author’s words, verbatim. Although I have purchased 14 copies since my initial reading, I have given them all away. A new (used) one is en route.
I will do my best here:
When a tree falls into a river, its natural course is to become one with the river, over time. It creates habitat, provides nutrients, shape shifts and eventually decomposes until it has completely washed away after contributing what it could to the ecosystem to which it has come to belong.
Every tree that falls into a river benefits the river in multiple ways, by both its mere presence and active contribution. The cycle of a river’s health and life depends on (or at least benefits from) these fallen trees.
But in each tree (I really wish I could steal from David Duncan here), there are knots. Knots of wood that never lose their shape, their original form, their detail. They don’t become part of the river’s ecosystem, they stay intact as what they were and have always been. They literally last forever.
These are the River Teeth of his title, and he goes on to explain that he believes every person has their own life story versions of River Teeth - the stories that we live and hold onto that never come apart, never leave us to become part of something else, never shape shift. Never decompose.
They are the stories that make or break our hearts, terrify or thrill, save or hurt us. They are uniquely ours and they never fade or become one with an ecosystem outside of their original host.
Since I first read this book, I have never stopped thinking about and trying to collect my own River Teeth, all 55 years of them. They make my soul both sing and sob, motivate and paralyze me, and keep coming at me and through me, thank god.
The river in this picture is from my favorite place on the planet. It holds my childhood, my memories, the ashes of my aunt and my stillborn son. Soon it will hold the ashes of my mom. While I can’t get there often and it is no longer mine to call home, I can be there anytime I need to feel it, because it is - as you can probably guess - one of my River Teeth.
I am grateful to David James Duncan and so glad I finally wrote this down.
I hope I got close and promise to work hard to pay back (and forward) the loan.