Galinipper-- Another word fer memries!

[Sinker]

Galinipper; just a little creek. Dry years it'd stop runnin an I've heard that it went dry in the thirties. When I was a kid (an I was), it was fishin hole, swimmin hole, hideout, woods. It ran thru some good farming land, and hardwood timber, longside bluffs and hillsides. Playgrounds fer kids, stompin grounds fer young fisherman and hunter, still an overlooked refuge to just be quiet. Caught the first fish I remember out of a "deep" hole; ever bit of 4 ft. Bullhead, bouta pound. Back then we ate all them little fellers, be they bullhead, bluegill, or perch, which was anything but bluegill or carp an had scales! I thought a bass was just a perch that didnt eat too good or taste as good as some! Probly cawt enuff little fish ta fill a pickup, and picked up enuff ticks an chiggers to fill a train! Back then ever kid waited til fall ta grow th skin back on his ankles; he just naturally wore scabs from bites all summer! Several other little cricks an 'branches' ran inta Galinipper, and most all this paradise was my "Assumed Jurisdiction". There's very little of that neck o'th'woods ain't got my footprints several layers deep. Weren't hardly any deer in this country then. I remember Dad runnin in th house an comin out with th 22 to get whatever had scared the cattle; they had run bawlin ta th house all spooked. Finally a doe stepped inta sight, first I ever saw an didn see another one fer bout 12 years. Now they thicker'n rabbits was back then. Lotsa squirrels an quail, groundhogs, coons an possums.
I could ramble quite a spell on it, but it'd still end up th same way. Town put inna sewer an th sewer overflow has been processed safe.......but it ain't th same as it was. The whole creek where I used ta briggle around is now a green slimy mess. It still got some fish, but not like back then, an I wouldn be wantin ta eat none. Mebbe I'll talk about't again sometime.

[Critter]

That brings back memories of when I was a kid.I pretty much grew up on a little creek we all knew as Crooked Creek.It wasn't till I was grown I figured out it had a real name(Crocker Creek)My grandma lived on that creek and my great-grandma and my great-great grandma(they were all alive when I was young)as well as uncles,aunts and several cousins had places along it too.It was a small creek than ran into the Gasconade River,it was only about 5 miles long from beginning to end.It was a paradise for a boy growing up.It had fishing holes, swimming holes,and caves and bluffs to explore.Shortly after I got married I moved into my grandma's old farmhouse and we lived there till the boys were teenagers.The creek aint the same as it was when I was a kid, it is dry most year round now but it holds many dear memories to me and I will always remember it as it once was.