Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Little Battle Creek
Last night I was watching TV just like any other night of the week, and while a commercial was on I was flipping the channels like I always do. As I was going up and down on the TV guide channel my eye caught the word Jefferson. Hum, I thought, it's on the history channel at that, but for some reason when I saw the word Jefferson, George Jefferson came to mind. So I punched in the number for that channel to further read that it was the live and legacy of Thomas Jefferson. But still my mind saw George Jefferson, and I thought, wow, some body took the time to research the corrector of George Jefferson. How he stated out as a neighbor to Archie Bunker and went on to get his own comic show, movin' on up to the east-side. When I realized the mistake I made I started laughing and it brought back a memory from my childhood, and why everyone said I wasn't the brightest blub in the pack.
On the main road to town, there was a creek that passed under the highway, and right about here was a sign. At first glance I thought it read Little Battle, so I just thought it was the name of the creek, Little Battle Creek. Well after my brother died my dad thought it would be a good idea to take mother on a trip to see her family for Easter. So we loaded up the station wagon and hit the road. With my dad you always left at zero dark early like 4am. This was in the mid 60's, if there were any interstates they were just starting out. We had to take state highways all the way from Hicks, Louisiana to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I don't know how many I had seen but there were a lot of signs that read Little Battle. I thought to myself, “Wow, this is a big ass creek.”
Every once in a while I would get to sit shot-gun, to help my dad look for signs. We passed by another Little Battle Creek and I happened to mention it to my dad that I thought it had to be the biggest creek in the world. I told him it was crisscrossing the highway all the way from Louisiana. He asked me to show him the next time I saw the sign, so a couple of few miles down the road we came upon another sign. I pointed it out to him so he pulled over. He told me to read the sign again, I said it's not going to change what it read. But after looking at it long enough I saw what it really said, Litter Barrel.
I hope you weren't drinking something when you read that part. Remember I was about 13 when this happened, but to this day my family will not let me live it down.
But that's OK, I get them back on the return trip, stay tuned to hear the rest of the story.