"Ghost of the Falls" © 2004 ~ Martyca

The Ghost of the Falls


The drive from Texas had been hard; the last half-hour rising up into the Arbuckle; stopping only at the scenic over-look to see the falls again after so long a time. Each passing mile a rush of memories, the adventures of years gone by, laughter of children now long dead. The family had been here years earlier, but his first real memory of this entrance was coming up from the Davis side, entering the park riding in the back of his dad’s old blue ’48 Studebaker Pickup…


Many years, and many pleasant visits had passed since that first trip oh so many years ago. This morning his brain was alive with memories of visits past, sliding down the falls, wading Honey Creek down from the falls to the old highway bridge below the park, the beauty of the area at various times thru all the seasons, he had seen it lush in the summer heat, and bare and snow covered in winter…


This final time, he entered the park that morning coming down from the Ardmore side, assisted by his beautiful Canadian lady and his eyes found so much change… Winding up past the Blue Hole and over the Honey Creek ford, and finally passing in front of the Castle he searched frantically for old friends; his eyes seeking all the dark hidden recesses of the park...


But it was not until he was again actually at the falls, looking across its face, past the veiled cave under the falling water and up the opposite cliff at the old Outlaw Cave that he sensed that old familiar presence from his childhood; for there in the dark shadows of his mind he again found the “Ghost of the Falls”...


The outlaw had populated the minds of hundreds of thousands of kids who had played here in years gone back. He could be found in the old caves; leaping the falls to escape the sheriff; riding his faithful mare up the rugged Arbuckle Mountain paths; rushing headlong down the rapids to make his escape. With the tree covered creek bottoms, and the mountains wrapped around, the child’s mind could spend hours in the exciting company of the old ghosts...


It was such a short step for a young boy of seven to see the action, smell the smoke from the six-guns and rifles, and hears the ricochet off the rocks as the posse chased that old outlaw. And now the young boy, who had himself now become a tired old cowboy, knew he was truly home on the range once again. He had come full circle, seeing the falls as a child and now seeing a third generation of children seeing the falls, and the Ghost remains…

© 2004/2010 ~ David L. Griffith
A special thanks to the city of Davis Oklahoma and it's fine Police Department
who made it possible for the old cowboy to drive right down to the base of Turner Falls.

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"There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval."

Text © by PalletMaster's Workshop®.
Graphics by Martyca

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