Slabtown: A Memoir

My very first memory–while still, almost a baby: I asked Mama, What’s the noise, it’s raining, Mama? Mama smiled, took my little baby hand, opened our porch screen door, and walked with me to the edge of our yard.I didn’t know what she wanted me to do, but the sound I had heard was much louder on the porch. Then, she pointed across the road, and said, look beyond the trees, and over the rocks so, I did and—-there it was—-Old Mills Run Creek.Old Mills Run Creek water running over the big rocks, the small pebbles, and everything else in between, making a forever kind of music that lasts a lifetime.Old Mills Run Creek had been running parallel alongside our road forever, moving over those rocks, going down its water’s pathway under the bridge to join at the mouth of the main river flowing south.Often when growing up, friends would meet at the Old Mills Run Creek Bridge. Then we would find some higher rocks to sit on and let our feet cool in waters, all the while listening to the soothing music the water made as it was running over the rocks.Old Mills Run Creek was the landmark in the eyes of all Slabtown, many, many years before I was born.I believe it played a big part in calling the pioneers to come live in our Slabtown, and never want to leave