The Trestle and and the mythology of youth.

 The playing fields of our youth grow to mythical stature as time passes.  Every kid that grew up in my little town has their own stockpile of myths.  These myths come with a landscape.  Uptown, The Hut, The Meadow, The Fieldhouse, Michael’s, The Hobby Shop, Crum Creek, The Yale Avenue Bridge, 5 Corners, Saga, Clothier, The Underpass.

The Trestle.

A patch of woods adjacent the college campus provided an endless opportunity for shenanigans for the local kids.  Through these woods runs Crum Creek, the Colorado River of our little town.  A suburban train line runs through the woods, and The Trestle provides passage for trains over the mighty Crum.  Local kids ran on the paths beneath the bridge, crossed over the bridge, drove their cars on the bridge, swam in the creek in the shadow of the bridge, and tragically took their lives leaping from the bridge.

I used to run through the woods, alone usually, but years ago I’d run my dogs.  We’d chase the trains, wade in the water, and generally do the things that kids and their dogs would do on hot summer days when given free reign.  This little patch of nature may as well been the Appalachian Trail.

So now the time has come for a massive improvement project for The Trestle.  The paths are gone, the landscape is ravaged. and all for a very good reason.  The Trestle certainly needs improving, and let’s face it, this little stretch of woods isn’t The Appalachian Trail.  But it was, once, for me.



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