The Little Creek of Pain and Adventure (part 1)

(Come on, read a little story for a change) Part 1

Few things can attract a little boy more than a creek. As a little boy once myself, I can attest to the magnetic pull and adventurous sound of flowing water. There are muddy banks for sliding, rocks to hop on, cool water for wading, frogs, crawfish, worms, minnows, Oh My! the list goes on and as I write and riminess about those days, “The Little Creek of Pain and Adventure” seems a deserving title* (part 1)

Trailer Parks Are For Kids

At the age of five I finally got lucky. Quite unexpectedly we moved from a 52nd story apartment in Chicago to Atlanta Ga. Where we lived in a tiny little trailer, located “on the wrong side of the tracks” in a run-down trailer park. But small kids don’t care which side of the tracks they live on. I will be making a pretty darn good case that living on the “wrong side” is much preferred. The park was full of kids like me, some a little older and some a little younger, but there were dozens of them! Best of all, way back there at the edge of the park was: you guessed it from the title; a creek! Now, creeks were strictly off limits for boys. However, banning boys from anything only makes that anything more desirable.

So, my story starts with a whoopin and if you were a boy in the fifties this is not unusual for you to hear. Teaching right from wrong was extremely important and a whoopin was actually (phase three) of learning right from wrong. The lesson had begun with a verbal warning and ear twist (which was phase one). Phase two had been a somewhat simple whippin.

The Anatomy of a Whoopin’

Whippin‘s are completely different from whoopin‘s. When spoken, the words even make the relevant sound of the act itself. A whippin simply consists of several licks with little or no explanation (you already know what you did). Whipped up quickly and applied by hand, they are attention getters.

Whoopin’s are much more serious than whippin’s; Whoopin’s come from a sentence handed down by the court. The punishment can be rendered by either parent; but if both parents agree on the sentence, the punishment can be severe. Also, a whoopin is always administered with a weapon; usually a belt or a switch. If the parent is feeling a bit sadistic at the time, they may actually insist you go outside and select the weapon from a tree of their choosing. And, woe be it to the child that thinks he can get away with selecting a tiny switch**

It being very important that you understand the charges, you will hear them throughout the process. “Son, you were told not to go to that creek”…whoop!! whoop!! “You were told what would happen if you did”… whoop!! whoop!! Then there was this; “Son, you know this hurts me more than it hurts you”…whoop!! whoop!! Somehow, them hurting more than me never made sense to me when I was the one getting whooped??

The Whistle

I received a creek warning my first day at the trailer park. I received a creek whippin the second day, and after my creek whoopin on the third day, my dad enacted the “whistle ordinance;” It read: The defendant (me) was never to be out of whistling range. Should the plaintiff (dad) whistle for me, I was required to be home within five minutes of said whistle. Therefore, this ordinance became a type of ankle bracelet as it kept me within a certain radius of home. However, on a positive note: my dad could whistle really loud! That gave me a pretty good perimeter, which might just include…say, the creek.

Returning to The Creek of Adventure

It was several days after my creek whoopin; and consequently I was playing in the dirt alone with my toy truck when a group of boys gathered around me. They had obviously been at the creek because they were muddy and wet. Billy*** was a redheaded boy who was older, at least (7or 8). He began to tell me about the dam they were building at the creek and invited me to come help. I don’t know if my little brain wasn’t quite developed or my skull had overdeveloped but they didn’t have to ask me twice! I dropped my truck and we were off to the creek.

That “Dam” Creek of Pain

My expectations were high as I raced to the back of the trailer park. Visions of a sparkling pool forming behind a dam that I myself would help to complete. We would build a boats, have naval battles, fish, and swim. I was beyond excited when I topped the bank ahead of the other boys and began sliding down to the water. I wasn’t ready for the debacle which now lay before me. Sitting there in the gumbo I beheld the worst excuse for a dam in the history of dam building. There was no lake, only an enlarged mudhole. The pitiful excuse for a dam consisted of nothing more than a bunch of vertical sticks in the mud. The water barely slowed as it slipped through them, like mosquitos through chicken wire….Sadly, I had to release some of my best cuss words.

Everyone began talking and cussing at the same time and through it all, I heard the far off sound of “a whistle”.

Yep, That’s Me

Footnotes: * “The Little Creek of Pain and Adventure” is based on my true story and chapter from a book entitled: “The Pig Men”. (In Progress)

** Whenever a child selects a small switch for punishment the parent will become angered, go select a much larger switch, add a couple extra licks, and make sure you understand what the extra licks are for when they are administered. (you will only make that mistake once)

***Billy is a combined memory of several kids I knew. (Obviously, I cannot remember all their names) There were several redheaded boys and several Billy’s.

(Part 2 next week)