Consider the river. We mean the Penobscot River. Remember dancing on the banks of the river last summer during the National Folk Festival? We do. We think of Dale Watson and His LoneStars and instinctively our toes start tapping. Did you shake your hips to the Congolese beat of Wawali Bonane and Yoka Nzenze? Us, too. And that Chinese dragon? Our eyes were popping out of their sockets.

But back to the river. Honestly, did you ever think of the river before the National Folk Festival? We didn’t. And those of you who never had been to Bangor before, had you even heard of the Penobscot River?

Of course, we knew it was there. We knew it was why people settled here to begin with all those centuries ago. The Wabanaki tribes knew a good thing when they saw it. So did Portuguese explorer Estevan Gomez, who stopped by in 1525. (He even got a plaque at the confluence of the Kenduskeag Stream and the Penobscot – check it out.) The French, the English, the Irish, the Jews. We like to think of them arriving by boat. But yes, also by train, located conveniently on the river.

Eventually, the river made Bangor the lumber capital of the world. The river put the boom in Bangor. It put the city on the map.

Then, for a long time, it seemed like the map stopped in Augusta. And the dancing? That stopped in Portland. Everyone started looking south, and we simply turned our backs on the river. It didn’t dry up, but the activity around it sure did. Like Huck Finn’s Mississippi, it was a monstrous big river, but it was some boring.

What was wrong with our river? Why did we forsake it? It wasn’t stagnant, and in recent years it wasn’t even stinky. It just wasn’t much of anything.

Look at it now. There’s a park – with grass. The falling-down brick buildings? Gone. Been there on a sunny Saturday? We have. We’ve seen other people there, too. And picnics. And kites. We call it the Waterfront now. We have a waterfront. Who knew?

Here’s who knew: Joe Wilson. Wilson’s the director of the National Council for the Traditional Arts. He took one look at that river and said: I want to have me a folk festival here. And voila – we got the National Folk Festival. We got our river back. And next year, we’ll have a festival of our own. On the waterfront. Sound exciting?

We’re excited. Mo Fer’s so excited he’s building condos there. Did you notice the new sidewalks and streetlights? If you think they’re cool, wait till you see the amphitheater. It’s not there yet, but it’s coming. So are a few kinetic sculptures that will ripple in the breeze. All because of the river, we have a $180 million waterfront redevelopment plan in the works. Not bad.

Even better is the way the Folk Festival has opened our eyes to what’s already here. Not just the river, but the ethnic diversity reaching back to the People of the Dawn who settled on the Penobscot. Did you see them last summer, too? Building canoes, cooking corn and carving root clubs? Obviously, it wasn’t the first time the Indians have worked on the river. We’re willing to bet it’s not the first time Irish music, fado and Acadian fiddling have been on the river either.

Who knew the river would bring people back? Hundreds of thousands of people. Eating blooming onions and drinking lemonade and grooving down by the river. Our river. Just like yours, Huck. Monstrous big.

So it took a folk festival to make us see the river again. Good deal. This time, we’re not looking at history. We’re looking at the future. Great deal.