An old picture of a baptizing in the beautiful Pinnacle Creek. Mom is on the left and Aunt Bea on the right. An assortment of uncles and bystanders can be seen on the other side of the creek. The water was clean in those days before all the contamination and pollution. There was a great deal of swimming and fishing.
June 18, 2013
My childhood was a special time! I spent childhood summers with Gramma and Grampa on Pinnacle Creek. I still recall the clean smell of the flowing creek mixed with the aroma of the many Mountain Laurel that covered some nearby mountains. There was a magic to the soft trickling of the creek as we followed a path nearby. Sand in the mountains? Yes, and plenty of it on the roadway. We built sand castles aplenty right there on the roadway surrounded on all sides by mountains. There was no “Watch out for Children” sign on a roadway that might have an automobile every 3 days. Now and then a rider on a horse would ride by or Grampa would lead Prince or Ole Roy down the sandy road.
The absolute greatest day of the year was the 4th of July. Everybody brought watermelons which were stored in a cool branch across the creek. There was plenty of ice cream, and this was kept on dry ice. All of us kids had a blast dropping coins on the dry ice and watching them sizzle. I recall one 4th that brought a strange kind of excitement. Grampa had a huge turkey gobbler that only chased son-in-laws with dark hair, and we would gather around and laugh hysterically as the gobbler chased our uncles. That gobbler never ended up on the platter! I think Grampa enjoyed the carnival atmosphere too much. Or maybe he thought it made a good watch gobbler at night; any would be burglar would have a tough time, but only if he had dark hair. Actually, there weren’t any burglars on Pinnacle Creek…. what a scary place at night with all those night sounds.
I might add there was no electricity, no cell phones, and certainly no television on Pinnacle. All entertainment was triggered by the imagination. A good imagination surpasses all technological advances. It gives you the ability to make hideouts in fallen trees, and believe me it was hard to find your cousins and uncles when playing hide-and-go-seek. We used the skill of making the best hide-out, and you could never find anybody. Fodder shocks were excellent places to hide, and I often wondered how many copperheads and garter snakes we shared these hide-outs with.
—Shirl
I still haven’t heard from PinnacleCreek, but I sure enjoying reading her old offerings.
Last night’s video: Aunt Arie 14.
Tipper
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hello Tipper where will i find your meatloaf thank you love your channel take care xx
Alice you can see it here: https://blindpigandtheacorn.com/tippers-favorite-meatloaf/ Thank you!
I really enjoyed this story. reminds me of growing up on Potawatomi Bayou, Grand Haven, Mi
Hi Tipper and Acorns. I was baptized in Gentry Creek, Laurel Bloomery, TN, November 27, 1976. The deacon, Noah Click, busted the ice with an ax. I was 18. Noah’s son Stacey, 9, was there to be baptized too. It is one of the highlights of my life, a true blessing. It was the 3rd time that I sat in the hand of GOD. I’ve been there a few times since then as well. I love how HE loves me. I pray every day for Papaw Tony and his wife. I can’t remember her name, but GOD knows. I pray for everyone here and up Wilson Holler. Please keep Ed and me in your prayers. I love y’all.
I’m sorry Barbara! I will keep praying for you both!
I love the baptism photo. Reminds me of the line “come right in boys- the water’s fine!” from Brother where art thou. If I ain’t mistaken, I believe Tipper said Pinnacle Creek (who’s dearly missed and MIA by her friends here) WAS from West “By Go_” Virginia. I’m leaning towards Wyoming County myself cause it sure is out there “in the pines where the sun never shines.” I sure hope Tipper learns what happened to this dear lady at some point. I’m finding out these male hokies, Roos and geese are not only great guards and alarms, but they’re scrappy. Now I know where chicken fights came to be entertainment. I got nothing to say one way or another about that, but once in WV, I heard tell of a chicken fight the state police went to bust up and when everybody scattered running, a cop shouted to a feller “stop or I’ll shoot” and the feller responded on the run “If you’re gonna shoot me over a dang chicken, go ahead!” I do believe the cop reconsidered… have a great day y’all in the rain, but I ain’t complaining cause it’s cool and nice as far as I’m concerned…
My grandaddy was the senior deacon in our community Baptist Church. He assisted with baptisms, which early on were in a cool branch of a local river here in NW NC. There was something special indeed about river baptisms. There are a very, very few churches that still have river or creek baptisms in our area now.
The story about the turkey is so funny. My hubby had a rooster when he was young that only chased his sisters. They would take off running and screaming to grandma’s house next door with that rooster chasing and trying to flog them all the way. We also made forts and hideouts in the woods and weeds without thoughts of snakes possible hiding with us…and, we played frisbee in the middle of the road. Cars seldom went by; and when they did, they were driving slow so we could get out of the way. I love the picture of the baptizing as well. Thank you for this interesting post.
That roster was probably chasing the girls because of the screaming. I don’t think little girls have an indoors voice. If they do they haven’t learned to use it. They all love to scream. That shrill screaming probably hurt his ears.
I was Baptized in Crow’s lake off of Braselton Hwy in Lawrenceville Georgia. My Daddy baptized me I was 16. Thank God he saved my soul a little before then. Now there’s a subdivision there. I don’t know of many places outside church now that folks could be baptized anymore. I was so blessed to have that in my memory box. Now my Daddy is on Hospice and things are so different. Please keep my Daddy Ricky Tuggle in your prayers. Also my sister Angel Wooden who’s got brain cancer. We serve an amazing God!!!
I am so thankful that I have old river baptizing pictures that include relatives and friends!
Not a gobbler but a mean rooster story. I read this in a book by Robert Hitt Neil, when he and his brother were young boys , they had a mean rooster that liked to jump on them. One day they caught this rooster and stuffed him in their mailbox, when the mailman their mail, the rooster now also mad came out the door into the mailman’s face and inside the car. It was funny at first until their Daddy got through with them. I think they would have liked to have been able to sit down in a creek.
We had plenty of dry ice where I worked. I would get a little piece of it, hold it my bare hand again my wedding band and it would squeak. It would sound like a mouse squeaking so I go the idea to pretend I had caught a mouse and offer to show it to the ladies I worked with. I would get a little piece of dry ice in my cupped hands and approach one of them;
“Hey, I caught a mouse, do you what to see it!” then I would squeeze the dry ice against my wedding band, “squeak”
“You get that thing away from me!”
“It’s just a baby, I’ll let you hold it.” then again “squeak”.
“No! I don’t want to see it or hold it! Get it away, please” then I’d show them.
“How’d you do that?
I’d show them and warn them about it, then on to the next victim.
Dry ice will burn you as badly as fire if you don’t know how to handle it. You can hold a small piece in your bare hand for a long time if you keep it moving. Squeezing it for more than a second or two barehanded could result in serious damage!
I enjoyed reading this and love the memories it brought to mind about my own childhood playing in creeks. My sister, and I, would play outside all day til supper time. Our imaginations led us from one fun activity to another. Bicycles racing down hills, splashing in the creek, climbing trees, and picking whatever wildflowers we could find for mom. Thank you for bringing these memories back to the forefront of my mind.
Praying for Papaw Tony!
As the old joke goes, the young woman who’s being married in her husband-to-be’s church asks the Reverend, “Once I’m married and I get in the family way, there’s the question of baptizing the children…” The Reverend says, “Some churches baptize babies, and we do, but some wait till the person is an adult…” The woman says, “And then there’s a matter of how it’s done…” The Reverend says, “Some churches go for sprinkling, some go for pouring, and some go for immersion…” The woman says, “OK, might as well do all three, just to make sure we’ve covered all the bases.”
My grandpa (dad’s dad) was a Methodist minister who traveled between a couple of country churches in Adair Co. KY when I was a little girl in the early 60s. One of the churches was predominantly black and the other mostly elderly white folks, who, after listening about Aunt Airie, reminded me of her and Will. I can’t tell you how excited I was when my grandpa invited me to tag along with him to visit “his people”. You see, we only got to visit my Kentucky ken folk once a year, for a week in July and there was a whole lot of livin’ and memory makin’ to pack into 7 days. We’d set out in my grandpa’s big Buick(neither my gma or great Aunt Ella, who lived with them, drove) after a hearty country breakfast and not come back til mid afternoon. We were welcomed at each home we stopped at and treated like royalty. Those, like Aunt Airie, who could no longer make it to church, were especially excited to see us. I felt so proud in all my 7 or 8 years, being introduced as his pretty little granddaughter from IL. I only made those kinds of visits with him til I was around 12. I suppose by that time I was wanting to spend the most time with my cousins. Looking back, I sure wish I’d continue riding along and meeting more wonderful people. Another special memory is that my grandpa married me & my ex back in 1977. It was quite special that he, .y grandma and great aunt made the trip up here for my special day. It was my great aunt’s only trip to IL. Oh, how I miss them all and I’m going to go drag out a photo album so I can see ALL of my grandparents and great aunts♡
I recall “Pinnacle Creek”. I was always curious about just where that creek was. I tried to find it, without success, on my topography map program. I found common ground among her posts and I kinda figured she would with me as well. I think I posted this before but I was baptized in a ” “mountain” (Cumberland Plateau of Kentucky) creek in March 1966. At our church baptizings are still in a stream, presently the Chattahoochee River on private property. Becoming harder in some places to do that anymore. Sigh. I feel the passing of old days and old ways. And I guess it has always been that those who do that suspect what is lost is of more value than what is gained. Those coming along behind us will be the same but the realization comes slowly until suddenly it is here.
There is a Pinnacle Creek in Wyoming County, West Virginia. Seems like our PinnacleCreek talked often about the sounds of motorcycles and ATV’s that disturbed her. This place in WV is at the beginning of the Hatfield-McCoy trails. 37.5707° N, 81.4727° May be her, maybe not.
I enjoyed the story and I love the picture of the baptizing. My parents talked about the river and/or creek baptizing in Kentucky. They still perform them there in some churches. My paternal grandfather was baptized lying on a blanket while members of his church lowered him in the creek. He was dying and couldn’t walk but he wanted to be baptized. That was 1932. The turkey story was hilarious. A neighbor girl and I took turns driving to a local college years ago. She lived on a farm and as I turned into her driveway she told me to get as close to the door as possible because there was an old goose that hated the females in the family and would chase and bite them. Almost as soon as she got out of the car this large goose comes running out of the barn and toward my friend. She got inside the house just in time before the goose caught up to her.
I found this on google: “Musings From A Mountain Nana” but the last post was in 2020. Seems she also wrote a book and the photo in this post is in it. Hope she is ok.
Nothing like Pinnacle Creek, but I often look at the creek that runs through my property and think of the many days and hours of happiness and joy that creek has brought to me and many of the other neighborhood kids that were of my generation. There is a small waterfall where the creek crosses the road, in the past before a bridge was built, cars would ford the creek right above the waterfall. Although not deep enough to swim in this area was the summertime water playground for many of us. My family did not own the property on that side of the road, but the ones that did didn’t care about us kids playing there. Back in my day, kids knew better than to trash or tear up a place like this. It was not the law but our parents we would have been worried about, when they had gotten through whipping our hind ends , it would have been a pleasure to stick them in that cool creek water. There was very little traffic on these county roads back then, only when the men left for their first shift jobs, the mailman around noon, a few second shift workers and only a couple that worked the third shift. It sure is different now, at times it seems almost like a parade at times, but despite all of the newcomers that have built homes and moved in and much more traffic, it is still a peaceful, quite and safe place to live. Thank God, I’m a country boy and have been blessed to have live my entire life in this area.
We lived at the end of the road so there were no passersby. If a car came up the road it meant somebody was coming to see us or somebody was lost. The mailbox was ½ mile down the road at the same place the school bus stopped.
We had three branches that came together on our property to form Wiggins Creek. There was only my brother and one neighbor boy near our age, in walking distance, to play in the creek with.