.....and other random stuff......

Friday, July 18, 2014

Pots Rock

Where we lived in Maryland was a suburb plunked down in the middle of farm country on the 
out-out-skirts of Baltimore.
A nice middle class suburban neighborhood surrounded by farms and the less fortunate.
It was also south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
A fact I never fully understood until the day I ventured to Pots Rock by myself.

Pots Rock was a large, recliner shaped rock we liked to play on in the middle of 
Little Gunpowder Falls.
Little Gunpowder Falls was a smallish river, filled with stepping stones. You could have probably walked the length of the entire river jumping from stone to stone.
We played there quite often, but always as a group.

One day I decided to venture there alone.

To get to Pots Rock you had to walk out of the neighborhood, past the run down (scary) shack, across a field of tall grass and through the woods to the river.
Once you reached the river you still had to walk along its edge for a mile or so till you reached the rock.

At one point the river widened and there was a small island in the middle.

We never went to the island because the river got deeper there and the rocks were submerged.

But it had been visited.

As I passed the island I got the feeling someone was watching me and as I glanced over I saw a very LARGE charred cross!
It must have been thirty feet tall, wrapped in rags that were obviously blackened from being burned.

I was about thirteen. Not exactly a child anymore but not what you’d call worldly or sophisticated.
I wasn’t quite sure what it meant but I definitely knew how it made me FEEL.
It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and I was scared as hell!

I turned around and slowly started to walk back the way I had come and when I got about six feet down the path I ran for my life!
I ran the whole way home.

I told my parents what I had seen and they had to explain to me what it was and what it meant. From then on we were forbidden to go to Pots Rock, even as a group.

That day had a profound effect on me.

It also drove home the sage advice my mother taught us; ‘When the hair on the back of your neck stands up, listen to it! That’s millions of years of evolution telling you to get the hell out of there!’



7 comments:

  1. Sounds like a lovely place to have lived with the river, farmlands and all. I'm guessing the charred cross was due to people who didn't like religion, what a strange thing to have done in a country setting.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wow! What an experience! I've seen racial epithets spray painted on buildings which is upsetting, but I think the remains of a burned cross would be scary. And your Ma is right about paying attention to the hairs on the back of your neck.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Love your chilling story. Wise words from your mother. On the lighter side, what great romantic sounding names, 'Gunpowder Falls'. Talking of gunpowder. I see what you mean about the tommy gun. Lol

    ReplyDelete
  4. Great story. Sounds like it should be a scene in a movie.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Wow. Love your mom's advice. I totally agree with her…and I'm glad it had a positive, profound effect on you.

    ReplyDelete
  6. what a great story. good advice, mom!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Oh that is so sad - and frightening. Good advice from your mom. I will pass it along to my younger daughter who is venturing out to explore the world this winter.

    ReplyDelete

I appreciate your comments!