Dear Readers, This week, my son turned 17. He was the baby who made me a momma — a profound day that marks both his arrival in this world and my initiation into the sisterhood of mothers. His birth was traumatic: He suffered from meconium aspiration, meaning he had inhaled his own poop. It was in his lungs and stomach. He had to be airlifted to the NICU in San Antonio, where nurses joked that my 9-pound, 7-ounce baby looked like he’d eaten one of the preemies. That humor gave me hope, a small comfort in the chaos.
Even though he was full of IT at birth, his eyes turned out to be hazel rather than brown like mine or blue like his dad’s. Seventeen years later, his sweet, sweet eyes still light up my life, and though I can’t hug him in person on his birthday, I’ll see him in Europe in just a few weeks. He’s my world, and I can’t imagine the grief of our local mother who tragically lost her 17-year-old son to Cape’s Dam as well as the inefficiency of the local city and county governments.
Some of you may remember when I attended every city council meeting for a whole year, advocating each and every time for the removal of Cape’s Dam. At one of those meetings, I held a sign over my head for hours that simply read, “Free the River.” Folks began to refer to me as “That Dam Lady” though I’m pretty sure there was an “n” in there.
My son and I have portaged that dangerous obstruction many times, paddling hundreds of miles together. To think that another mother will never paddle with her son again because of a preventable tragedy just breaks my heart.
In 2016, the city council had the science. They knew that removing the dam was the right choice, and federal funding was available to help, as part of a nationwide effort to dismantle outdated New Deal-era dams. That same year, farther downstream, the Ottine Dam was removed, improving safety and the river’s ecosystem. Eight years later, San Marcos’s inaction on Cape’s Dam has cost us a life.
They say it takes a village to raise a child. This time, our village truly failed.
We must summon the strength, science and (fore)sight to make this right. We must make restitution for the grieving family, for our village and for this sacred river. We have the science. We have the resources. And we have the responsibility to act — not just for ourselves, but for generations to come. This includes generations of humans, vegetation and aquatic life.
Each time I sign a copy of my beloved children’s book, Goodnight San Marcos, I always write: “Remember to take care of your friends in the river,” and today, I mean that more than ever.
Let’s free the river, keep live entertainment at Tantra and commit to truly looking out for one another. I believe in us, and I know you do, too.
XOXO,
Kelly Stone is an educator, comedian, mother, and author who loves the heck outta the river. She welcomes e-letters at kellystone. org or [email protected] and adores handwritten notes and postcards via good ol’ snail mail: R. das Combatentes da Grande Guerra 47, FRAC R, Aveiro, Portugal 3810-087
