“The face of the water, in time, became a wonderful book- a book that was a dead language to the uneducated passenger, but which told its mind to me without reserve, delivering its most cherished secrets as clearly as if it uttered them with a voice. And it was not a book to be read once and thrown aside, for it had a new story to tell every day.” – Mark Twain, Life on the Mississippi

 As I heard this quote this week my love of Mark Twain’s writings was rekindled. How that man could turn the ordinary word into incredibly imaginative and entertaining story overflowing with wit, humor and satire.  Boy, could he spin a yarn when telling a tall tale.

Born as Samuel Clemens in Missouri in 1835, Samuel was one of seven children although sadly, several of his siblings died in early childhood as happened all too often in those days. At age 11, tragedy struck again when Samuel’s father died and Samuel had to learn make his own way in the world. At age 13 he became and apprentice in his brothers print shop and  worked in several print shops during those early years writing funny stories about life in America.

It was in or about 1857, that Samuel took an excursion down the Mississippi River and was so moved that he left his writing career to pursue his dream of becoming a riverboat pilot. He worked hard to earn his pilot license and then apprenticed with Horace Bixby on a steamboat to learn the mighty Mississippi currents, her shifting channels, reefs, hidden rocks and dangerous snags. Samuel mastered the art of piloting while steaming up and down the Mississippi for four years and he eventually assumed the pen name of Mark Twain, which is a term used in river navigation that refers to water that is two fathoms or 12 feet deep.

Interesting, Samuel was born during the time Haley’s comet passed through earth’s atmosphere and he died 73 years later when Haley’s comet revisited. Perhaps a synchronous moment as the universe heralded a Spark of the Divine that manifested in a unique expression of life as our beloved and beguiling Mark Twain.  

Liz Sorensen Wessel