Crossing Kevin's Crossing

Hello Dear Readers,             On my way back from the viewing the petroglyphs in the woods, where all the teenagers hang out and do unsupervised teenager things, Tim began telling me the story of Teackle Street.  It was really more of group effort since Tim’s friend Karen and a very pale kid that went by T-Bone, frequently interrupted to add their incites.  So instead of giving you the complete, jumbled transcript, I will summarize the story into something comprehensible.             Apparently, many years ago there was a road named Treakle Street.  It was the only road that lead to the on-ramp for the old highway US 1 that brought most of the traffic and commerce through town.  It was lined with business, shops, warehouses, and hotels.  But the new bypass was put in on the far side of town and traffic began to slow.  As the traffic on Treakle Street dwindled, so did the business around Treakle Street.  A few sleazy motels, rundown diners, and old warehouses stayed because some

Hello Dear Readers, So, becoming known in town for an interested in the strange and unusual has continued to be a mixed blessing.  On one hand, people are far more willing to talk to me about things now, on the other hand, people know who I am and want to talk to me all the time.  Recently I was contacted by way of email. It was Tim, the teenager from Historical Society. Fortunately, he and his friends have not yet tried to play the elevator game.  They invited me to a secret place somewhere in woods outside of town to show me something he thinks I will find interesting. (Susan, remember when we were kids and we used to go into the woods and eat mushrooms, until the incident with Henry Burrows?  May he live forever in the sun.) Apparently, they have rocks they think I should see. Well, rock does beat scissors. Again I fear being taken out into the middle of nowhere and hunted for sport. But if that is the price that I must pay for mystery, then so be it! So Tim picked me up