Appalachian Word of the Week -- CRICK

Did you ever play in a CRICK?

Some of my most wonderful memories of childhood are times spent wading in a CRICK, splashing in the water, lifting rocks to see what was hiding beneath, and wiggling my toes in the pebbles that usually covered the ground.

Know what a CRICK is now?

I'm not talking about the CRICK in your neck when you sleep wrong. Or when you spend a couple of hours craning your neck to watch a TV screen in a restaurant because your favorite team is playing.

I'm talking about the CRICK out back that splashes white water as it rushes across smooth rocks and stones as it flows. The CRICK that washes away your troubles by the sound of its rushing. The CRICK that cools your toes and your whole being on a steamy summer day. The CRICK where you and your childhood friends gathered and spent hours together laughing. A place where memories were made.

Family reunion at the CRICK

My family used to take a picnic lunch down to a CRICK in the mountains. We all sat around on rocks and ate our food. The children played in the CRICK. It was the place to take visiting family members who had moved away from the mountains.

The CRICK whirls through your mind and takes you to a place where everything in your life is happy and carefree--even if for a brief time.

I remember the more seasoned residents of our town saying "Lord willing and the CRICK don't rise" in response to making plans to see each other again. Of course, if heavy rains caused the CRICK to rise, you couldn't get to the other side. It would turn muddy brown, the power of the water would possibly knock you down and carry you along with it, and your footbridge across the CRICK could be swallowed up by the water.

A few years ago, I attended a writers workshop at Hindman Settlement School in Kentucky. Behind the school, Troublesome CRICK flowed gently past. I never knew why it was called Troublesome until one afternoon when the clouds opened up and added so much rainwater to the CRICK that stirred it up muddy, caused it to overflow its banks, and spread out onto the property. Truly a Troublesome CRICK at that point.

CRICK flowing from mountain

There are days now when I dream of a CRICK. A CRICK that originates from an underground stream that flows down the side of a mountain and gains speed to propel it through the holler. When life's troubles overwhelm me, I search for a CRICK. The place where I can relax, splash in the cool water, and let the CRICK wash away all my troubles.

Do you have a place you go to wash away your troubles -- like a CRICK?

Do you need a CRICK today?

CRICK behind my first apartment in Cumberland, KY