The Little Creek of Pain And Adventure (part 3)

At this point, Big Jon decided to abandon my dad’s wheelbarrow. As he made his way back to the bank, I began to panic (I couldn’t go home without that wheelbarrow). So, I did something stupid, because that’s what you do when you panic. I jumped into the water and headed to the spot where the wheelbarrow was. The water was almost to my shoulders, but I felt around and found the wheelbarrow. My plan was to turn it over and dump the rocks, but that just wasn’t going to happen.

Naked And Ashamed

Suddenly there was a crackling and swooshing sound. I was then knocked into the wheelbarrow by rushing water. The dam had broken! The good news was: at least the force of the water slamming my ribs into the wheelbarrow knocked it over. The bad news was: I kept going! My britches were torn off as I passed over the sticks and rocks of the dam. Two thoughts quickly occurred to me: the shame and horror of being completely naked (I seldom wore a shirt or shoes) followed by the shame and disgrace of breaking our precious dam. After all, I was the only one anywhere near it at the time. As a kid, you never want to be in the area of something when it gets broken.

Although it was a lot of water, I didn’t wash very far downstream from the dam because the creek banks opened up wider and the water was able to spread out. We had placed the dam in the narrow part of the creek for obvious reasons. So, after washing me over a few more rocks, the Little Creek of Pain And Adventure deposited me in a pile of downed tree branches. It must have been quite a sight to see as Billy came wading downstream to me. I know he wanted to laugh, but I was bleeding in a few places, so he held his peace and helped untangle me from the branches.

How To Field Dress Wounds

If you have been in fights or have the habit of sustaining injuries during adventures, then you know that you don’t feel much pain until the fight or adventure is over. But, as soon as the adrenaline wears off, the pain makes up for the lost time. I don’t know how sanitary it was, but Billy and I washed out my cuts with creek water. It was probably better than the other open wound treatment among boys which was: “rubbing dirt on them.” There wasn’t much we could do with the goose egg forming above my left eye or the right ribs which were now my main source of pain.

The good part about injuries is that you remember when and where you were when you got them. The more serious the injury, the better the memory. That’s probably why I can remember so much of my childhood. These two particular injuries took up residence and remained with me for over 60 years and counting. The goose egg above my eye must have cracked off a piece of bone or something, as it still hurts today just to touch it. The ribs hurt for a year or two and longer when I needed to breathe much. Even today, when the weather changes, I still have the pleasure of remembering the good times and the day I acquired that rib pain.

Fair Weather Friends

Luckily Billy was wearing a shirt which he gave me. And as I was putting it on, I looked back to see what was left of the dam. The dam had broken right in the middle, but most of it was still there. Being an occasional optimist, I commented, “that’ll be easy for us to fix.” Then I noticed the only (Us) around was me and Billy. “Where is everybody?” I asked. “Well,” Billy said. “When the dam broke and you were swept over, we figured you were a goner, so we ran away.”

You might think that during a crisis boys would band together and help each other. However, in real life when there is a crisis or injury, a boy’s first instinct is to run. This goes along with that statement in the second paragraph above: “As a kid, you never want to be in the area of something when it gets broken.”

So, I had to ask Billy the obvious question, “Why are you still here?” Thinking that he was my one and only friend turned out to be wrong. He explained that he had run away with the rest but the route back to his trailer was different from the others. It took him alongside the creek bank and he saw me still alive, hung up in the branches.

The Adventure Code

The code is very clear on this: It is ok if you run away to escape blame whenever something breaks, there is a crisis, or an injury takes place. However, after you have avoided any possibility of being blamed, a boy cannot ignore another boy in distress. So, Billy was just following the code. He was no better or worse than the other boys. He was just unlucky that day.

Billy helped me get that wheelbarrow up the creekbank because pushing that thing made the pain in my ribs much worse. And speaking of pain, as we topped the bank I heard the unmistakable sound of my dad’s whistle.