By LEE HINNANT

The stream draining much of Whiteville’s east side has gradually become a directed set of convenient pipes and ditches. The natural need for streets, homes and services means taming the flow of water.

There is nothing wrong or unusual with channeling Griffith’s Creek. Dense, urban-style growth requires limiting what was once was an unpredictable flow of water.

Almost every crossroad and city does the same to build and protect structures and streets.

Flooding of yards and streets along the Griffith’s Creek basin has increased with development and stress on outdated, failing drains – particularly along College Street and parts of downtown.

The City of Whiteville is steadily chipping away at the problem, starting downstream near White Marsh and around the hospital. Another project will take on College Street. Officials hope to win a grant to relieve other flooding with an artificial wetland that would also reduce pollution.

That is the realistic fate of a small stream that carries the water from rooftops and driveways and patios and sheds and parking lots and strip malls we all use and need.

I would not want to exchange the “old” Griffith’s Creek for the hospital, churches and houses of today.

I would, however, like to remember a piece of it.

The remnant of creek I knew as a youngster was a channelized section between Edgewood School and what is now Columbus Regional Healthcare.

It may have been a giant ditch, but the flow was gentle enough to make the water remarkably clear and home to an abundance of plants above, below and at the waterline.

If I needed a frog, a lizard, a skink or a tadpole to scare my little sister, they were always there.

I first studied water fleas, minnows, beetles and mosquito larvae along that ditch. We even spied a few fingerling fish and heard the occasional groan of a bullfrog.

A couple of older boys went swimming in a pool deepened by a rainy spring one year. Coming home half-covered in mud got me in enough trouble to avoid following them on what I am sure would have been an unacceptable dip.

We found plenty of turtles, from nasty snappers to docile boxers. I’ll never forget the time during one of our rare snows and freezing weather when I found a toad encased in clear ice at the water’s edge.

One day, my parents put in a giant culvert along the ditch at the house and later covered the pipe to expand the lawn. Much of the old ditch remains open, but it is more overgrown than I remember.

As more houses have been built, the remains of the creek have become more of an obstacle and less of a source of wonder.

Griffith’s Creek – what’s left of it – should carry away stormwater and be directed to minimize flooding.

But I will remember a time when we were both younger and had fewer limits.

The water there gave me much more than a place to keep yards and parking lots dry.