Pistol Creek

Was Daddy the first person to sell Igloo Ice Chests in Blount County? I don't know the answer to that but he probably was the first (and only) person to take his motor boat down Montvale Road in order to check on people one time when Pistol Creek overflowed and flooded all the nearby houses.

And Jeff, Vicki, and I were probably the first (and only) kids to float on inner tubes in the Sterling's field another time when the creek overflowed. Not the smartest idea, come to think of it. I'm certain the creek water was moving pretty swiftly and we most likely did not give the respect it derserved. But it seemed perfectly natural, hauling inner tubes out to the field. Although, now that I think about that, where did the tubes come from? I think we may have had a blow-up raft, too. It must've been summer.

Pistol Creek. The section that ran down below our house along the edge of the Sterling's field and through the backs of nearby yards was the scene of many an adventure. "Swimming," one time. I put that in quotes because it was a creek, not a river. I must've been pretty little to actually submerse myself. I seem to recall Mom being pretty mad at whoever I was with for that, probably mostly because even forty+ years ago that creek was not viewed as particularly sanitary. (If nothing else, there were plenty of cows upstream.) Or maybe she was mad at me because I went in fully clothed and sneakered.

Standing on the driveway bridge, throwing rocks, tossing sticks, poking at the dead, bloated muskrat that was stuck on a branch that jutted out into the water.

Catching crawdaddies. Lots and lots of them. There's a trick to it. Crawdaddies shoot backwards when they're trying to escape. So after you've carefully lifted rock after rock until you find one hiding, you have to carefully position your net, container, or hand behind it before you startle it. If you're lucky, and it's not, it'll propel itself into your catching device.

One time Robbie and I decided to catch a bunch and sell them for bait. This was not a successful venture, for us or the poor crawdaddies. Looking back, I actually feel pretty bad about that. Prior to this ill-thought-out activity, I think we mostly just caught and released them.

Hands down, the best adventure was digging under the bridge. Robbie had discovered some old bottles that were buried there. I'm not sure why he was digging around there in the first place but he let me in on the secret and we spent several hours over the next few days, unearthing bottles of all shapes and sizes and colors, all obviously quite old. Apparently Robbie had discovered a former trash pile. Or perhaps the dirt fill for the bank of the bridge had come from the dump. We also found pieces of porcelain dolls and buttons and tins and other household items. It was a fantastic treasure hunt!

It seems we may have also tried fishing occasionally but to no avail.

Today the creek is still there, running along Montvale Road, its banks overgrown with weeds and bushes. The bridge is there, too, although in complete disrepair, both ends blocked to prevent people from walking on it. The Sterling's home has been gone for quite some time although I don't know when it was torn down. I just know I kept driving by the field and finding myself thinking, "Something's not right. What's missing?" until I finally realized the house as well as the back apartment building and garage were all gone. Many structures have gone missing from that neighborhood.

But for now the field and creek and woods are still there, just waiting for some sort of development. The land was up for auction not too long ago. It may be difficult to sell because there's long been talk of widening the road which would end up ruining a good part of that property. My prediction is that one day I will turn onto Montvale from 321 and there will be a mini-mart and gas station sitting in the middle of the field.