OK so this is my second post and already I am behind. But I had to take a picture first and before I could take a picture, I had to buy a camera. And before I could take the picture off the camera I had to have Carly help me. So this weeks memory is a little late. I am calling this memory............ “The Hollow”
When I was little [between ages 8 and 12] and lived in Pleasant View at the bottom of 900 West, I remember walking up to the “hollow”. I remember going at least one time with the summer recreation people on a group picnic, but the best times would be when a group of neighborhood kids would go up there on a picnic. There was usually a Kowallis friend, [Jill ] and sometimes a Probst friend [Colleen] and some of their brothers or sisters. Rosalie remembers going up there as well on picnics, but Carolyn was too scared to go. The "Wade Cousins" would tell her all kinds of stories about the hollow and that was all it took to keep her from going. The “Hollow” was quite the mystery. It was what seemed at the time like this “huge” forest of trees and in it was a real Indian trail. You would never dare go in there by yourself. The legend was that there was a real Indian grave in there and if conditions were just right you might see his ghost. It was such an adventure and quite daring to go on this little hike. When you were deep inside you could not see anything but trees unless you looked up and then you could see the blue sky. Even though it was scary, I loved it in there. It was so quiet and you could hear all kinds of birds, and there were wildflowers along the way. I don’t know how long the trail actually was but you started on the very most south side and ended up at the pole patch cross roads if you dared go the whole way. Sometimes we would look for arrowheads and sometimes we were sure we could hear Indians making animal sounds. There was a camp site, or picnic site about half way in where we usually had a picnic. Once we had a "Hobo" party and all dressed up like Hobo's and we would put our lunches in a big hankie and tie it to a stick. Kind of like Hobo’s did back then. You always had to make sure that you got out by nightfall. That was one place you did not want to be after dark. Some of the best hikes to the Indian trail were when Jill Kowallis sister Cheryl would go with us. She was a few years older than us and told really great stories at the picnic sight. Even though they were probably scary stories, I still loved them. Cheryl could tell a good “yarn”. I didn't ever see any ghost on one of those adventures, but I did get into "stingy neddle" once. The hollow was thick with that and Poison Ivy......probably planted by the Indians.
Alas, like many things from childhood, things change. Now the hollow makes a great back yard for many people’s houses up 900 West. Today as I went to take a picture, there was actually curb, gutter and sidewalk running parallel to the hollow. And houses on both sides. Little do these people know, there is a secret about the hollow, and they had better lock their doors. One thing that does not change are the memories I hold on to that take me right back the scary “hollow” on 900 West.
When I was little [between ages 8 and 12] and lived in Pleasant View at the bottom of 900 West, I remember walking up to the “hollow”. I remember going at least one time with the summer recreation people on a group picnic, but the best times would be when a group of neighborhood kids would go up there on a picnic. There was usually a Kowallis friend, [Jill ] and sometimes a Probst friend [Colleen] and some of their brothers or sisters. Rosalie remembers going up there as well on picnics, but Carolyn was too scared to go. The "Wade Cousins" would tell her all kinds of stories about the hollow and that was all it took to keep her from going. The “Hollow” was quite the mystery. It was what seemed at the time like this “huge” forest of trees and in it was a real Indian trail. You would never dare go in there by yourself. The legend was that there was a real Indian grave in there and if conditions were just right you might see his ghost. It was such an adventure and quite daring to go on this little hike. When you were deep inside you could not see anything but trees unless you looked up and then you could see the blue sky. Even though it was scary, I loved it in there. It was so quiet and you could hear all kinds of birds, and there were wildflowers along the way. I don’t know how long the trail actually was but you started on the very most south side and ended up at the pole patch cross roads if you dared go the whole way. Sometimes we would look for arrowheads and sometimes we were sure we could hear Indians making animal sounds. There was a camp site, or picnic site about half way in where we usually had a picnic. Once we had a "Hobo" party and all dressed up like Hobo's and we would put our lunches in a big hankie and tie it to a stick. Kind of like Hobo’s did back then. You always had to make sure that you got out by nightfall. That was one place you did not want to be after dark. Some of the best hikes to the Indian trail were when Jill Kowallis sister Cheryl would go with us. She was a few years older than us and told really great stories at the picnic sight. Even though they were probably scary stories, I still loved them. Cheryl could tell a good “yarn”. I didn't ever see any ghost on one of those adventures, but I did get into "stingy neddle" once. The hollow was thick with that and Poison Ivy......probably planted by the Indians.
Alas, like many things from childhood, things change. Now the hollow makes a great back yard for many people’s houses up 900 West. Today as I went to take a picture, there was actually curb, gutter and sidewalk running parallel to the hollow. And houses on both sides. Little do these people know, there is a secret about the hollow, and they had better lock their doors. One thing that does not change are the memories I hold on to that take me right back the scary “hollow” on 900 West.
3 comments:
Thanks for sharing this memory. You will have to show me the hollow sometime. I must be the Caroline in our family. Love you Mom.
I spelled Carolyn's name wrong. It bugs me but I'm too lazy to delete my comment.
Yay!!! I am so glad that you started a blog! Now I can see what your up to! I miss you and the good ol' days at old Mckay!
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