COMING DOWN THE PIKE

A former schoolmate, Chuck McCoy, used the term "Lewis Pike" in a recent Facebook reminiscence (see below) and made me recall that my mother always insisted on saying "Lewis Pike" instead of Lewis Road; "Greenfield Pike" instead of Route 41; "New Holland Pike" instead of Route 22, and "Leesburg Pike" instead of Route 62. Being a smart-aleck kid, I would ask, "Is Route 753 the Greenfield Pike also?"

She said that when she was growing up, they had always been called "PIKES" instead of "ROADS". Always having to prove I'm right, I got a map of Fayette County from 1900 and it had Route 41, Route 22, etc. designated as Routes instead of Pikes. She said the map was wrong! [Now, brothers, where do we get that trait of never admitting we're wrong?]

When I asked Les if he remembered Mother saying "pike", he said, "One person's pike or road is another person's ODONYM!" [Now THAT is just showing-off!]

A blogger, PIKE MAN, writes about the origin of the phrase "coming down the pike":

"The phrase "coming down the pike" dates back to an idiom used by Greek Phalanxes in the Second Century (BCA). The Greek Phalanx was a column formation of heavy infantry carrying swords and using long spears known as "pikes". After the conquests of Alexander The Great, the greek army was considered invincible, a scourge of the gods that could not be defeated. The Greek ranks brought utter destruction to any army that opposed them. Out of this reality the term "coming down the pike" became associated with imminent destruction at the hands of the advancing Greek armies. The sight of columns of Greek soldiers with their pikes poised and ready for slaughter struck fear into resisting armies, causing many of them to turn and run for their lives, yelling, "Take up the wing, for destruction is coming down with the pike." The recollection of war-torn veterans spread these stories among the populace, and the phrase was soon shortened to "coming down the pike". From that day, "coming down the pike" has been used to convey the imminent arrival of something which can't be resisted."

CHUCK MCCOY'S REMINISCENCE:

Seeing the picture of the drive back to the old children's home without all of those magnificent oaks has moved me to haul out an old poem of mine about growing up on a farm in Fayette County not far from the home. I need to update it; my kids have kids of their own now. The oaks I'm talking about are in a line along the north side of the Bloomingburg-New Holland road just east of Lewis Pike and many more in the woods a few fields north of there. These old oaks are all over the county and were probably part of the original woods covering it.

FAYETTE COUNTY OAKS

My kids grow among the maple trees
As I grew among the oaks.
We live with thousands in our town.
I just had my folks
And sisters and a brother and the animals and space.
Land ran to the horizon. At night my upturned face
Saw each burning point of light as separate flame.
I plowed the hundred-acre fields so young
I would not let my kids cross busy streets without a guide.
The yields of meat and grain and hay we worked so hard
To raise we praised as gifts.
I mowed our ever-growing yard with a push mower.
I fished a stream with unbaited hooks and dream-filled books...
When I speak to children of those days
They humor me with thoughtful looks.
They think I make a pleasant hoax.
They tell me all their schoolyard jokes.
I laugh with kids and maple trees and talk again about the oaks.