The Queen of Little Boys and Crayfish

I wasn't sure in which category to put this story. It doesn't directly talk about racism, but I think perhaps it helps to show how violence, even among the innocent, gentle, loving and peaceful, begets more violence...

Us kids weren't supposed to go near the little creeks and streams that ran near -- and even one that ran right through -- the sprawling green grounds. Naturally, that made playing in the creeks even more attractive and urgent. Especially for me. And the boys.

Montgomery County Maryland was once a bucolic place and more Southern than it is today. On the way to school, we could see from time to time a pickup truck with a Confederate flag in the back window and a visible gun rack.

With that came a lot of trees and green grass and creeks.Most of those creeks are gone now I am sad to say -- victims of the rapid development over the past 40-50 years. Sometimes now I'll come across a dry bed where a little creek once ran.

Back then, there were creeks a plenty. I sometimes went off to lay by a creek's edge and watch the water flow after a fight. Sometimes it didn't matter if I won or lost. I still had the blues. And nothing cured the blues like the shady cool embrace of the creekside looking for crayfish.

My boyfriend Stevie started following me and wanted to know what I was doing. I told him looking for crayfish. We were 7.

Crayfish aren't easy to find even in a shallow tiny liitle stream. They were the same colors as the brown and beige pebbles of the creek bottom. They also could be quite still and shy. For the most part, they didn't seem very interested in people or making friends.

I was pretty good at seeing them. Stevie liked to hold my hand while I stuck my fingers in the stream trying to measure the speeds of the creek bottom, the creek and the animals in the water. It was mostly tiny fish, bugs, sometimes tadpoles and the occasional crayfish. Crayfish were the biggest wildlife around that didn't fly or run. They were the lions of the streams. I loved them and their fierce steady stealth.

I wouldn't let Stevie kill them. He told me that when the boys found a crayfish, they pretty much automatically killed it. Barbarous, I thought. I wouldn't let Stevie kill any crayfish in front of me. I just liked to watch them. Finding one had a magic to it -- it was the invisible made visible.

We took to doing this more often. One day, Stevie told his boy friends how good I was at finding crayfish. During recess when I was with my girl friends, Stevie and the boys walked right up to me. One of the boys, a tow-headed snaggle-toothed rascal, asked sweetly in the way only little boys can when they really want something badly, if I would help them find some crayfish. "Stevie told us you're good at it," he said.

"EWWWWWWW!" Immediately I was surrounded by the disapproval and horror of my female classmates. It was a serious violation of femininity to even allow thoughts of creatures like crayfish to enter one's mind. Looking for them -- seeking them out -- was absolutely revolting and beyond the pale. The notion that boys are disgusting and want to do disgusting things, with or without girls, is formed early among little girls.

I had been put into an awkward position. Of course, I wanted to go look for crayfish. Yet, that wasn't necessarily something I needed the whole world to know about. I looked for a graceful exit. I played it cool, shrugged and said to my friends "I'm just going to go play with Stevie for awhile." I mean, he was my boyfriend after all.

My friends were shocked into silence. Mouths gaped. I thought Alice might actually swoon for a minute. I rolled my eyes, took Stevie's hand and our gang started to walk towards the far creek. I had only taken a few steps when I heard behind me a single, hushed, slow, piercing, pained "Ewww!" I turned around, recognizing the voice. "Shut up Chrissy!" I shouted and stamped my foot in their direction. They took off running. I sighed and we continued on our journey.

As we walked I informed the boys of my no-killing policy. Stevie let me know that he already informed them: "I already told them all about that." One of the lower-ranking boys stood as lookout on the edge of the Far Blacktop as the rest of us scurried down the steep bank to the creek. You may not believe me, but I'll tell you my technique. It was based in sensing the speeds of the creek. The very bottom of the creek moved very very slowly, pushed over time by the force of the water. If you think about it, you'll understand it. The water moved quite quickly especially if there'd been rain. Fish were easy to find -- they could move faster than the water and they moved a lot.

Crayfish moved slower than the water. Much much slower and hardly at all. But not at slow as the creek bed. That was my technique. Waiting for a crayfish to move. Usually I could somehow tell if one was near even if it took me awhile to see it. I needed more or less complete silence to do this however. You can laugh or think I'm crazy all you want. I am sure this particular um, gift will come in handy after the Apocalypse when we are going to have to fish out of the Potomac or god help us the Anacostia to survive.

Back then, I had about a 50% find rate. On their own, the boys only had about a 20% chance.

Once when the boys and I were down at the creek, I found a baby crayfish. One little boy immediately picked up a rock and brought it down smashing yellow-white innards out of the tiny creature. Without a word, I took the rock out of his hand, stood up, used my foot to kick-push his chest to the ground and placed my sneaker on his throat. He looked up stunned, eyes rolling around in confusion. One of the other boys helpfully said to him: "She doesn't like it when you try and kill them."

Teeth clenched, I stood over him and demanded to know "WHY did you kill the baby crayfish?!" His answer in the form of gurgles only infuriated me more. My right hand with the rock floated skyward, the flat of my right foot pressed down harder on the kid's gurgling throat. My eyes commanded him to cease thrashing about. My nose flared, my lips tightened, my eyes narrowed. He would not think about killing another crayfish after I was through with him.

Stevie spoke up in his defense: "He's new! Scott's new! He didn't know!" Stevie knew what I was capable of. He knew this kid was in trouble.

I looked at Stevie and walked off throwing the rock down. I sat under a nearby tree with knees to chin, dashing away a few angry mournful tears. I felt partly responsible -- if I hadn't revealed its location to those stupid boys, the crayfish would still be alive.

Stevie sensed that my anger might be permanent and that I was seriously considering declining future invitations to look for crayfish. Hurriedly he ordered the boys to go get me some flowers.

Among the girls, there was a fluid leadership system -- almost any girl might have an opportunity to lead depending on the activity and situation. The boys however seemed to have a much more rigid, constant hierarchy with Stevie as alpha male. For the formal flower presentation, Stevie preferred to have the lower-ranking boys go first. Each boy would thrust out a handful of clover and dandelions. Violets or thistle if in season. But never buttercups. Those were considered girls' flowers. The girls and I would run around and stick a single buttercup under each other's chins. If you saw a yellow reflection from the shiny yellow flower on the tender under-skin, it meant that you liked butter or something like that. Hours of fun.

Each boy would receive a gracious, formal, somewhat frosty "Thank you" as I took the flowers. Stevie liked to be last so he could make sure his bouquet was the biggest. Stevie usually got a kiss...

Comments

[Sagar_Lovely]

Your articles are really nice.
Can u give some advice to forget my beloved. Who afrid of her parents and not wanted to talk to me...

I want to forget her ....please give some advice

[PinkThunder]

Hi -- PinkThunder here. Thanks for visiting! I am glad you like my articles.

It is difficult to forget someone you love. In fact, it is probable that you will never forget her entirely! Otherwise, how could she be lovable?

Instead, when you think of her, pray for her. And for her parents. Wish her well and success in life with or without you in it. Be grateful for the time you were given together and for the beautiful feelings she inspired within you.

As for you, the pain you feel now will subside in time, I promise. You are still young and there is perhaps another woman you are meant to be with. You must be patient and know that the right woman for you is coming soon. Be happy and hopeful. After all, how will the right woman be able to love you if you are sad and pining obsessively after a girl who feels she cannot talk to you? If you are not open to the possibility of love in unexpected forms coming at an unexpected time?

you r dumb