I felt that creek wandering was more of a solitary activity as a child. One time, however, I was playing in the larger “sugar Creek” with a friend of mine. We spent a good deal of time at each other’s houses and both sets of parents treated us as their own. On this day, we came across a large, rusty steel pipe that the fast water had uncovered. What to do? Well, it seemed like a good idea that we should strike it repeatedly with large rocks. That was going pretty well. Then some water started to come out of it in a fine mist. That was pretty fascinating. Perhaps we should hit it again. With that, a large chunk of metal comes off and a fire hose of water erupts, drenching us and spraying up onto the busy street above us. We quickly scramble up onto the road. The traffic is coming to a stop as the thick column is landing near the middle of the street. We try to put on our best “did you see that?!! Somebody needs to fix that. We could have been killed!” Now, I’ve learned that you have to decide pretty quickly whether your acting job is good enough to pass, or whether to run. It was pretty clear that the smart money was in running, so we did. The rest of the day went uneventfully. We played at my house for a long time. We played all over, except for there. After enough hours, we even kind of forgot about it. We eventually ended up at his house for dinner. Out of the blue, his mother says “the water was turned off for an hour or so earlier today. Might you two know something about that?”
‘The Nerve of That Woman!’ I thought. The city water supply has a hiccup and she’s questioning us? What kind of monsters does she think we are?
Hilarious, David! I don’t have a story as exciting as that one, but I can tell you I understand completely about the desire of children to strike something repeatedly with rocks.
When we were young in Gary, WV, Mary, Paula, and I, along with a couple of other neighborhood children, got into our heads that a large “rock” near our house might contain Indian burial remains and other artifacts. (We must have recently learned about archaeology and the Native American history of our region.) Well, we decided to chip away at that “rock,” day after day, until we discovered something exciting. After about a week of fruitless chipping, we found out somehow that our big “rock” was actually a concrete pillar that had formerly supported something for the Norfolk and Southern railroad, which lay a few yards from the pillar. Imagine our disappointment! But the project had kept us earnestly busy for a week.
After reminiscing a little more, I realize I need to revise my earlier story. The Yurkovich girls and the neighborhood kids also imagined that the rocky pillar was an Indian sacrifice altar! We must have learned something about the Aztecs and erroneously transferred it to our Appalachian area indians. lol