April 27, 2017

Just Saying…

By Q.C. Jones

The Story of the Brushy Branch Maypole

If you happen to be a betting person, here’s a pretty sure thing for you. Every publication large or small in the English speaking world will carry a short five word line during the month of April or May. Being a full-fledged computer nerd, your Quad-City Correspondent, QC Jones, tested the theory. According to yesterday’s Google Search, 681,000 references to the phrase “April Showers bring May Flowers” were published in print or online over the past 12 months.

Armed with this little factoid, it would seem that any sensible writer would take this article skipping down some flower-lined garden path, recalling the beautiful jonquils and lilies sprouting in their granny’s back yard.  Similarly, one might expect to read some heart-rending tale of young love in a secluded secret garden. But not, QC, nope… That would be way too easy. Instead, I want to take you down another “twisty-turny” trail. Put on comfortable shoes, we’re going to dig into another May tradition: The Maypole.

Even though the “April showers” thing is old (it comes from a poem first published in 1610), the Maypole has been around a lot longer. The tradition sprang up in central Europe during the early Iron Age.  For those planning out their next time travel, set your controls to Pagan Germanic Village 1100 BC. There you will find a tall tree with handmade decorations and amorous messages to secret loves.

The tradition spread around Europe over the next centuries.  Suspecting either poor TV reception or a lack of good Mexican restaurants, the country folk (ever notice how they always call them “folk”) were drawn to the celebration like hungry mosquitos to grandma’s yellow porch light. Because these (we’ll call them) folk were also big on music and dancing, progressive towns added their own twist to the ceremony.  Dancing around the Maypole was, for a time, as popular as Chubby Checker’s Twist and Soupy Sales’ Mouse Dance combined. But, we digress. Back to the Maypole story.

I am a proud graduate of Brushy Branch Elementary School.  Located ten miles from anywhere and nestled just off the Taylorville-Assumption Blacktop in Central Illinois, Brushy Branch was caught in a time warp. Most of you have read the stories of American Greats attending a one room school house. My own personal center of lower learning was three times better. Fearing rural education needed a pick-me-up, the township fathers decided to consolidate schools. Instead of building a new school, they moved three one room schoolhouses together. Basically just put up a foundation and clumped them into a T-shaped facility.  Each of the three rooms housed one teacher, two grades and twenty some kids.  It was a fabulous concept.

While in third grade, I was exposed to curriculum for both third and fourth grade. By the time a person graduated to the next class room, they had been exposed the material twice. It was scientific reinforced education before it was either scientific or cool. The concept worked, but we kids developed some pretty serious pent up energy during all that reading, writing and arithmetic. Not to mention the hickory stick which was used liberally on the eight year old QC. Now to the Maypole, you’ve all be wondering about.

The joy of our life was recess and located on the two acre school yard was one of the finest pieces of playground equipment known to pre-moon walking mankind: The Maypole. Allow me a short description.

The Maypole, otherwise known as the “Brain Basher,” “Bone Crusher” and “Cast Maker” was a 15 foot metal pole upon which hung a circle of trapeze handles. Up to a dozen participants could hold onto the handles and begin running until the Maypole gained momentum. The older kids could continue to run to build even further momentum, and everyone would be lifted from terra firma and sent spinning through the air. In concept, the whole thing worked and was fun. In reality, somebody always let go sending the wheel out of balance and crashing the riders into one another, the hard steel pole or the foot high chunk of concrete used to secure the pole.

During my years at Brushy Branch School, the Maypole remained a favorite pastime despite several cases of broken arm, one set of fractured wrists, a minor concussion and countless chipped teeth. The very thought of such an attractive nuisance would have personal injury attorneys salivating and teachers lined up for the firing squad.  Those were different days. What’s more, a recent visit to a site dedicated to the small group of “country kids” who
graduated from Brushy Branch reveals nothing but fond memories of said implement of destruction.  Although, one lady of 60 did comment her wrists still hurt from the injuries sustained on her second trip to the hospital courtesy of the Maypole.

Long ago, somebody said, “That which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”  Whenever I hear of gentrified way today’s kids dance around the Maypole, I can’t help but wonder if they wouldn’t benefit from a few rides on the Brushy Branch Maypole.

Just saying…

Filed Under: History, Humor

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