Chattanooga isn’t a port city.
The Tennessee River's currents run through the heart of Chattanooga. Photo taken by Ana Krispin (’26).
It doesn’t have an ocean to swim in. It has no sandy beaches to have bonfires on. It doesn’t have a big downtown music scene where there is something exciting to do every weekend night, and free shows every weeknight full of boisterous younglings.
Chattanooga isn’t a port city, it’s not even in the top 10 biggest cities in the United States.
But Chattanooga does have a river. A river which I jump in once a month with my closest friends for the evening. Nobody is ever as excited to jump in the river as I am, but they still plunge in at the count of three, hand in hand with me, almost unaware that our warm flesh will imminently be subdued in the ice cold water. In the moment before our body temperatures are instantly cut in half, we are the only ones in the world, and the world happens to be only as big as the Tennessee River. In that moment, we are one body—bonded together by the kinetic energy flowing through our concurrent bodies. Every time, I dip my big toe in the water and retort, “it’s so warm! It’s like a hot tub!” and every time, my big toe winces at the bone-chilling current. Every time, it’s a new configuration of humans. Every time, it’s a new experience. No two plunges into the river are the same.
Chattanooga isn’t a port city, but it does have a river which I will gladly jump into every month so long as I’m here.