This article is written by guest author Lisa Comer.  Lisa lives in Silverhill, Alabama and is a media specialist at Stapleton, Alabama Elementary School. She loves to take pictures of birds and other outdoor scenes. Lisa is a very talented writer as well an amateur photographer. This story shows how great outdoor memories last forever.

My dad grew up in Selma, Alabama.  His father and two of his uncles worked on the Southern Railway.  At that time, Selma was a railroad town.  Now like many other places in Selma, the depot is on the National Register of Historical Places. A few years ago, we visited the Old Depot Museum and toured some of the places that my dad remembered from childhood.  We saw where he would ride his stick horse to town, where he went to high school, and where his paper route was.  We also rode past the house where he grew up, the church where he was baptized, and the cemetery where my grandparents are buried.  We couldn’t visit the one place that I had always wanted to see because it was closed to the public.  When my sister and I would ask my dad about his childhood, he would usually include a story about riding his bike to Kenan’s Mill to go swimming or how when he was older he would go with his dad to Kenan’s Mill to fish.  It always sounded like a really great place.  Kenan’s Mill is a grist mill that was built in 1861.  It used the creek running behind the mill to grind meal, grits, and corn.  The Kenan family donated the mill to the historic society in 1997 and it has been renovated so that the mill actually works again.  They now have a Kenan’s Mill Festival in the fall and the place is open to the public.  As soon as my sister and I heard of the festival, we knew that we had to go.  This year was my dad’s 75th birthday so we decided that this would be a great way to celebrate his birthday.  My dad, mom, and I met my sister and her two children in Selma and then we all drove out to the mill. 

Driving down the lane was like stepping back in time.  The water turbine was running and you could purchase a bag of water ground corn meal.  You could look out the back windows to see the creek.  When the water is high, there is a small waterfall, but we visited during the drought.  Even though the water was low, the creek was deep in some places and you could imagine a bunch of boys jumping in and cooling off in the cold water.  I think my niece and nephew could well imagine doing it themselves.

We had a great day at the festival.  Everyone enjoyed seeing the mill, crossing a swinging bridge, going on a hay ride, listening to music, but most of all we enjoyed spending the day with my dad.We are still trying to solve a mystery about the mill, though.  My dad remembers there being a water wheel on the mill.  One year, we found a painting of the mill at the Art Festival in Foley, but the mill was minus the wheel.  My dad talked to the man who was grinding the corn and he said that the mill never had a wheel and had always used the water turbine.  The funny thing about that is the side of the mill has an opening that looks like a wheel could have been attached and the festival T shirt shows the mill having a wheel.  If anyone reading this entry can shed light on this mystery, I’d sure appreciate finding out who has the better memory;  my dad or the miller.