CREEK ROAD GANG
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Thoughts from the Editor:
December 2009
copyright 2009
The Saturday after
Thanksgiving, we hopped in the car and drove an hour and a half in the
fading red-gold light of the late afternoon sun to see a display of
gingerbread houses. I have to admit that I was grumpy in transit. I had
scads of things to do, and, even if I didn't, we got stuck in traffic,
inching to frequent halts which were always just past the most
picturesque spot. The camera sitting on my lap remained in its case as
I pointed out to my husband still another missed photo opportunity. He
must have been biting his tongue, because I heard not even one word of
reproach.
Just after sunset, we arrived in Lahaska. The parking lot was uninspiring. But as we made our way toward the pavilion with the gingerbread houses, I saw that the trees, bare of leaves, were decked with colored lights.
I took several pictures of the brightly lit trees, glad that the camera was finally of some use. Then we made our way to the end of a long line of people waiting to see gingerbread. As a woman emerged from a shop near us carrying a large cup of coffee, I wondered how she was managing with just the heavy sweater she was wearing. I was glad of my knit beret, wool coat and gloves as we stood in the cold twilight. The family in front of us consisted of two parents and two wiggly children. The little girl in the pretty pink jacket informed me that her birthday was coming in two days and she would be five, something I considered definitely worth wiggling about.
There were still over twenty people in line in front of us when the woman two families forward pulled out her cell phone. "No, it's cold, but it's not bad," she said into the device. "You don't feel it." My feet felt it, I thought. They were cold!
But maybe not so cold.
No, they had definitely been colder.
I couldn't tell you the exact moment when it happened or what did it, but I had been de-Grinched. In fact, I was entranced well before we got into the pavilion.
The gingerbread houses we saw were not made by culinary masters in glitzy televised competition, but instead by regular people, some even by school kids. They were delightful – traditional or otherwise innovative, snow-covered or warm beach-inspired, fairy tales retold, historical houses next to modern styles, all recreated in cookie and candy: sugar plum visions to dance in my head for weeks to come.
When we got home, I discovered that each and every one of the photos of the beautiful trees came out blurry.
It didn't really matter; I had them inside me.
Little moments. Bits of creation. Shifting points of view. Warmth in the cold. Light, outside or in. We aim to bring you a taste of that at Creek Road Gang. We hope that you find something in Creek Road Gang that resonates with you.
Join us!
How can you get involved?
Share some great writing. Read our stories and poetry, and consider submitting some of your own. Or interview a friend or loved one about their lives, and record it or write it up. Write a review of an outstanding autobiography or memoir you've read and submit it. Send us your autobiographical photo essay. Check out our Submission Guidelines.
And keep coming back!
~ Kate LydonJust after sunset, we arrived in Lahaska. The parking lot was uninspiring. But as we made our way toward the pavilion with the gingerbread houses, I saw that the trees, bare of leaves, were decked with colored lights.
I took several pictures of the brightly lit trees, glad that the camera was finally of some use. Then we made our way to the end of a long line of people waiting to see gingerbread. As a woman emerged from a shop near us carrying a large cup of coffee, I wondered how she was managing with just the heavy sweater she was wearing. I was glad of my knit beret, wool coat and gloves as we stood in the cold twilight. The family in front of us consisted of two parents and two wiggly children. The little girl in the pretty pink jacket informed me that her birthday was coming in two days and she would be five, something I considered definitely worth wiggling about.
There were still over twenty people in line in front of us when the woman two families forward pulled out her cell phone. "No, it's cold, but it's not bad," she said into the device. "You don't feel it." My feet felt it, I thought. They were cold!
But maybe not so cold.
No, they had definitely been colder.
I couldn't tell you the exact moment when it happened or what did it, but I had been de-Grinched. In fact, I was entranced well before we got into the pavilion.
The gingerbread houses we saw were not made by culinary masters in glitzy televised competition, but instead by regular people, some even by school kids. They were delightful – traditional or otherwise innovative, snow-covered or warm beach-inspired, fairy tales retold, historical houses next to modern styles, all recreated in cookie and candy: sugar plum visions to dance in my head for weeks to come.
When we got home, I discovered that each and every one of the photos of the beautiful trees came out blurry.
It didn't really matter; I had them inside me.
Little moments. Bits of creation. Shifting points of view. Warmth in the cold. Light, outside or in. We aim to bring you a taste of that at Creek Road Gang. We hope that you find something in Creek Road Gang that resonates with you.
Join us!
How can you get involved?
Share some great writing. Read our stories and poetry, and consider submitting some of your own. Or interview a friend or loved one about their lives, and record it or write it up. Write a review of an outstanding autobiography or memoir you've read and submit it. Send us your autobiographical photo essay. Check out our Submission Guidelines.
And keep coming back!
