Kids Of The Crick

Getting Together to Explore Ringalingalingaling goes the school bell on Friday afternoon. School’s out for the week and the children are skedaddling out the front door onto the dirt path as though they were about to meet with a new adventure. “Danny, I know a new place to go in the morning down at the crick. Wanna go?” “Sure, Rustin. Is it far?” “Nah, a couple of blocks out of town.” The two boys are both ten years old. The “town” has only a few scattered houses in Sergent County about forty miles from the big city area and has one schoolhouse plus a few other business places. Most of the men work at a flour mill right outside of town and the women are home raising children. There are beautiful rolling hills blending into the mountains just outside town with trees, brush, some forest and streams emptying into local cricks from the mountains and distant river. The closest crick is about three city blocks out of town by way of an old horse and buggy road with trees hanging over it on both sides. The boys are starting to walk home from school and are jabbering back and forth preparing for their journey of what they might need, like water and peanut butter sandwiches and how to tote them. “I gotta go home now and do my homework so I won’t have to worry about it on Saturday,” said Rustin. “Yeah, me too. See ya at eight by the big rock on the corner, Rustin. Bye.” Susan, eight years old, overheard them and wants to go too, but she waited too long and Rustin ran off. Danny was slow to go, so she asked him, “Can I go too, Danny?” “I don’t know, Susan, this is Rustin’s idea. Meet us at eight by the big rock on the corner and see what he says.” “Okay, thanks, Danny. See ya there.” Rustin tells his mom and she doesn’t worry because he’s been there before. Danny’s mom is not sure until his sister Sandi, twelve years old, says she will go too. That makes it okay. Rustin won’t care. He likes Sandi. Susan’s mother says she’s too little to be out in the wilderness with ten year old boys. It’s Saturday morning at dawn and the kids are trickling in one by one at the “rock.” It’s a little before eight and Rustin says hi to his friends in an agreeable tone. “Let’s go.” The kids walk for a couple of minutes and hear a scream from the “rock.” Susan yells, “Hey, wait for me.” She runs like a racehorse toward the gang as her mother waits at the rock. “Don’t go away. Wait for me” Susan arrives with her heart pounding. “Can I go too, Rustin?” The boys look at each other. Rustin scratches his head while Danny is looking around as though Rustin didn’t even ask the question. Rusty looks at Sandi and finally realizes, “We’ve already got one girl. What will one more hurt?” and they all three agreed to let Susan go too. Susan’s mother changed her mind when she heard Sandi was going. They all waved bye-bye. So, everyone is off on an adventure, hippity hopping down the street that leads to the old dirt road, singing as they go. “A tiscket a tasket, I filled my yellow basket with berries and cherries and everything nice and I did it twice and on the way, I lost it.” As they trot down the old road, they are watching closely for signs of that special path that is supposed to lead them to the crick. Danny asks, “Is this the path?” “No,” Rustin says, “it’s too wet. That’s a pond.” The old road hasn’t been used by anyone for years and brush grows over it as time passes. It looks more like wilderness. The trees and brush are getting thicker and are reaching into and over the old road while cracks and gulleys form from rain and snow of the past. Danny grabs hold of a tree branch and says, “Sandi, help me break off this branch.” The two of them struggle a bit and finally split a branch off the tree trunk. “Well, it ain’t purdy, but it will be good for breakin’ through the woods and weeds.” Each one of the gang, except for Susan, takes their turn hitting, slashing and battling through brush to make a trail. It’s hard to know anymore, after what seems like a giant city block, where the actual old road is. “I’m thirsty. Let’s stop for a few minutes,” Rustin says as he plops to the ground and relaxes against a mound of dirt formed by a rainstorm against the broken down trees.