“The river we call Delaware, sometimes a friend, sometimes a fury, cuts between the Garden and the Keystone with an immortal rush. Born before its namesake, it has mountain siblings and, unburdened by age, will remain long after us. But marvel at the current and you’ll realize it can only stare back; it is only a witness to adventure. Like the Delaware, we flow in the present, but while the river takes the time, we take the moments. The revolutions, the romances, the rallies -- they’re ours. An…