07/16/2025
(I wrote this a few years back, and I will always feel this way about Long Creek.)
MEANDERING DOWN MEMORY LANE ----
My Best memories of the best little school in the best little town, in the the greatest state, in most wonderful country in the world.
I graduated with the exact same people I met on the first day of 1st grade, tho some of us played together in the church nursery..
Small towns tend to be tight knit places, which in the old days, meant–few new people came in, and no one ever left.
Our class roster didn't change much in 12 years (which is why the arrival of a “new kid” was such a momentous event), and if that new kid stays and graduates? He's still the new kid!
Half the people in your class have the same last name. And at least three-quarters of the class are cousins. In fact, the yearbook might be more accurately titled “the family tree.”
Eighth grade graduation was an important event.. Not because we made it thru the eighth grade, but it was another social event in our town, and made us pre-freshman feel pretty special, until we started high school.
"Pretty special" didn't last long.
High School initiation was fun and funny, horrible and humbling. Wearing a diaper, and a soap box blouse, torn nylons and dad's work boots. Hair soaked in sugar water (lots of sugar dyed with koolaid), crawling up the concrete steps to serve the Upperclassmen, or knee walkin' down to the Mountain Inn for the best french fries ever. Painting the big LC on Long Creek Mountain. Yep, we were lucky, and for a week we were privileged to wear garlic necklaces.
Dances - Sock hops, Sadie Hawkins Day, The Hunters Ball, New Years Eve, Sweethearts Ball, and the Scots American, plus a few dances at other schools. Most were public dances, in the school gym, lasting from 9 pm til 2 am, or until the money ran out for the band. (So cool to have a midnight meal in the lunch room, and really great when our ranching families sometimes had a huge breakfast, served to whomever was still standing upright or leaning on the fence post, close enough to get some good down home cooking to soak up all that "happy juice".
Chances were, that my date for the dance, would be the one who barfed on me in second grade. Therefore, I and a few others dated kids from a different school, in another town. Dating hometown boys, somehow didn't seem right. Kinda like dating your own brother,
Nope, No way...No no no.
“The woods” was a perfectly normal location for a party. Want to shoot guns and Drink beer? Steal a kiss or two? (Not necessarily in that order). Meet up in the forest half a mile off the highway–Stop at the big rock, and pick up the h***h that C..... left behind the rock. One more mile and Pardy Pardy!!!! Or, how about sledding at Tin Hats??? Night time.. Bon fires strategically placed on corners, down the mountain,, with a sip of Tin Hats white lightening when you reached his "house" ..... I was either freezing at the top of the hill, or blowing smoke outta my nose and ears, after a sip from a mason jar.
The basketball coach was also our Algebra teacher, the volleyball coach taught us English, the choir teacher was the pastor in the Community church. Teachers at small schools have to wear many hats. Some of those hats are not necessarily supposed to be worn simultaneously, but in a small school, in a small town, we appreciated their skill to do so. Well, no, i didn't always appreciate my teachers, but I do now.
Oh my, and when our small school hired a superintendent, who was a band teacher? Not only did that small school in that small town with complete community support.... Raise money for band uniforms, musical instruments, batons, etc, plus pay for the transportation, volunteering many hours, to get us to the Grant County parade, Milton Freewater pea Festival Parade, the Pendleton Round up parades, and a performance centered in the rodeo grounds arena. And earned the red ribbon, in the Portland Rose Festival parade. THAT was a huge feather in our little schools cap. It put us on the map that time, for a while. That and all the maple bars our Moms made to raise money.
Senior pranks often involved farm animals and/or manure. Both were so plentiful, it just made good sense to utilize them, you know? And Halloween was almost a ritual, find a wood pile, to tip over, outhouse to up end, and man, all those school windows to wax. Problem is, one year, Mr Batty and his co-hort b***y trapped the school perimeter, with supplies from the National Guard. Hot dang, we went to do our dastardly best to make a mess, we tripped the wires, and the dang baseball diamond , heck the whole school grounds lit up like the 4th of July, and me and my partners in crime were caught red handed. Needless to say, we had a full school day of cleaning to do. But being the janitors daughter, I was gonna clean up anyway, this time I had help tho... OH, and Mr Batty's cohort? None other than my Dad, Mervin. Sheesh.
BIggest prank? One of our new, young lady teachers went into the ladies room, there was a scream and a thud, she fainted. There was a dead doe, in the big sink. Not something you see in Portland, ya know? (Dad never told on those LC boys, and neither did I.) I almost spilled that gem at the 2015 school reunion, tho.
Graduation from the best little high school, in the best little town, in the Oregon Blue Mountains, was bittersweet for me. I knew I wouldn't be helping my folks, the janitors, clean that best little school anymore, I wouldn't be going to all the wonderful activities I took for granted for all those years. When I moved away, I knew I would never be a citizen of Long Creek again.
So, time passages..... Married, owned our own place out in the country, west side of the state, two successful business, raised two great sons, have a wonderful daughter. And then it was time to slow down. That's fine and dandy.
We moved back home to Eastern Oregon. Loving the Blues, love all the animals and birds on the wildlife refuge, nearby. I love the deer, and they are here.
Mama and Dad would love that we came 'Home".
I just want to go back to Long Creek, from time to time, and back in time, to the best little town, on the best side of the best state, and reminisce with my best friends, "Long Creek Style"
A Crickity Chick, and proud of it......
M. Derrick-Parker
