The River: No cozy recollection of the river, as he’s miffed about Facebook labeling his hardwork ‘spam’

The riverboat captain is a storyteller, and Captain Don Sanders shares the stories of his long association with the river — from discovery to a way of love and life. This a part of a long and continuing story.

By Captain Don Sanders
Special to NKyTribune

Although I wanted to write a cozy recollection of the river, today, I am angry. After sharing 217 original articles from my NKyTribune column with nearly 30 Facebook groups, this message appeared last week when I attempted to post a new supplement:

After sharing 217 original articles from my NKY TRIBUNE column with nearly 30  Facebook groups, this message appeared last week when I attempted to post a new supplement.

Your account is restricted for 24 days. Your account activity didn’t follow our Community Standards, so you can’t do one or more things you usually do.

Of course, I objected to what Facebook called “Spam,” but there was no recourse with a “bot” programmed with A-I (artificial intelligence).

What was my transgression? Was it something I said or was sharing the TRIB’s link on the Facebook site the culprit? Whatever happened to “freedom of expression” or “freedom of the press,” for that matter? Not only did I lose a significant audience potential, but further attempts to post additional verbiage may cause the loss of 12 years of usage on that particular social medium. After all, my comments and postings on Facebook initially caught my editor’s attention with the resulting invitation to darken her online paper’s pages each Sunday these past four years. 

After a successful follow-up post on my personal Facebook page informing my fans about the 24-day restriction, 81 supporters reacted, with 54 making comments ranging from a simple, “Why?” to “Geez, it’s not like you got caught playing the calliope or something.”
 

“Geez, it’s not like you got caught playing the calliope or something.” 

One faithful reader even reported that Facebook “busted [him]” for sharing my article on the various “rope bumpers hung overboard in the locks.” Geeze! I wonder how A-I would handle the line from Clement Moore’s immortal Christmas poem, Twas The Night Before Christmas: “The stockings were hung by the chimney with care…?”

At this stage of the game, “each passing day is one closer to the grave,” as a contemporary recently remarked. So my affiliation with the river becomes more distant even as the memories of a fast-fading past become dimmer each time I attempt to recollect the names, places, and events of a bygone era. Dreams replace actuality and become substitutes for reality. 

One faithful reader even reported that Facebook “busted [him]” for sharing my article on the various “rope bumpers hung overboard in the locks.”

Last night, I dreamed of being the Captain of a riverboat not unlike the DELTA QUEEN or the GRAND VICTORIA II, both vessels close to my heart. As the boat paddled against the current of a river more like the Ohio River than the Mississippi, the current became more vicious as it progressed.

Soon the stream turned into a torrent as forceful as a waterfall once the sternwheeler approached a bend spiraling to the left. With the bow pointed into the invincible tide, the sheer volume of the raging water forced the boat back downstream stern first.


With all my might, I fought to keep aligned within the directional azimuth of the current lest the paddlewheeler found itself broadside at the mercy of the falling water. Again and again, the riverboat fought its way back toward the bendway where the current tumbling around the curvature of the meander sent the vessel sliding sternways for some distance, only to regain its forward momentum to try anew.

Last night, I dreamed of being the Captain of a riverboat not unlike the DELTA QUEEN or the GRAND VICTORIA II, both vessels close to my heart.

After several unsuccessful attempts, the riverboat never did succeed in stemming the tumbling tide. Finally, although I’m not entirely sure, soon after the last try, a loud “meow” from Lester-the-Cat awoke me with the realization that his snack bowl needed replenishing.

The desk clock showed “5:30” in red letters on its digital face.


As I said in the first paragraph, although I wanted to write a warm and fuzzy remembrance of the river today, I am likely more disappointed than angry with how the social medium regarded me and my writing. I see no value coming from Facebook’s resolution to label four years of mutually shared inscriptions “spam.”

So, with everything being equal, and with the changes in my life at this juncture, I can only do as a favorite old-time steamboat pilot often said, “Let’s wait and see what happens.”

LEFT: Finally, although I’m not entirely sure, soon after the last try, a loud “meow” from Lester-the-Cat awoke me with the realization that his snack bowl needed replenishing. (Photo by Jesse A. Sanders); RIGHT – As a favorite old-time steamboat pilot often said, “Let’s wait and see what happens.” 

Captain Don Sanders is a river man. He has been a riverboat captain with the Delta Queen Steamboat Company and with Rising Star Casino. He learned to fly an airplane before he learned to drive a “machine” and became a captain in the USAF. He is an adventurer, a historian, and a storyteller. Now, he is a columnist for the NKyTribune and will share his stories of growing up in Covington and his stories of the river. Hang on for the ride — the river never looked so good.

Click here to read all of Capt. Don Sanders’ stories of The River.