About ten years ago, I visited the area where I grew up, around Cincinnati, Ohio. It had changed so much that I never needed to go back there. We used to drive the ten-mile-stretch from Fairfield to Springdale when we went to church, twice on Sundays and once on Wednesday night. It was farmland the entire way. Well, no longer. The entire drive is lined with strip malls, shops, restaurants, and urban sprawl. There was even a Hooters along the way, for crying' out loud! No, I didn't need to go back.
However, my brother didn't make that trip with me. And, he had a case of nostalgia. He wanted to see the same places. At the time we lived there, he was too young to remember much. So, I needed to be his guide. And, I made the long trek back to a long time ago.
From kindergarten to grade seven, I attended four schools. We hit them all on this tour. Kindergarten school. Demolished. Grade one school. Demolished. Grades two to six school. Demolished. Grade seven school. You guessed it, demolished. There were new buildings in their places. They all looked beautiful, but nothing looked the same.
On the way home from my first two schools, if you took the detour that we were NOT ALLOWED TO TAKE, there was the most, oh, so tempting gravel pit to explore. Even back in the dark ages, Mom said we shouldn't go there. There were hobos who lurked in the gravel pit, and IT JUST WASN'T SAFE! Well, it should come as no surprise, that no hobos were going to scare me away from such a fascinating location. I didn't go there often, but I did go there. And, one day I found the most incredible fossil that I still have to this day. It's on display in my living room. However, I don't think I ever showed it to my mother.
My very first home . . . a long time ago.On this trip, I tried to find the gravel pit again. The whole area was so much more developed. An apartment complex blocks the way to my favorite forbidden zone. The gravel pit is now a lovely, secluded lake that for some reason still is forbidden to trespass into. Perhaps they spoke to my mother?
Once I crossed the gravel pit, back in the old days, I never had any problems making my way home. But, I don't remember the path I took. However, I had no trouble finding Bishop Avenue on this trip. The home where I grew up was so shockingly small. Mom and Dad squeezed three kids into the place with no problems, but I'm not sure how they managed to do it. I guess, we didn't know any different.
My brother was curious how far it was from Bishop Avenue to Symmes Road. Would it take long? I just smiled. Both streets intersected into State Route 4, and they were one block apart. Of course, now another road was built between them. But, in my day, it was one block and a quick hop and a skip to get there.
Kid number four, my brother on this trip, was born while we lived in the house on Symmes Road. Also demolished. Right after we moved, the house was destroyed, and a senior living facility took its place. The property was five acres, and well over half of it was my father's garden. It felt like all of it was that garden, and I absolutely H A T E D gardening at that moment and ever since then. Nothing has ever changed how I feel about gardening. I can't imagine that it ever will.
We drove around the entire lot, which was now a parking lot for the retirement home. It felt so small! Everything was so much bigger when I was ten. Our neighbors to the left, the Rickerts, are long departed. But, their home looked exactly the same. We loved the Rickerts. Once, Mr. Rickert stood atop our gas tank with a garden hose trying to stop the fire that destroyed our kitchen. Thanks to him, the rest of the house was saved. Fortunately, the story has a happy ending because he didn't meet his that day.
On the other side of our property lived the two haggard witches, absolutely ancient! At least, that's how we kids felt about them. They were withered sisters who lived with a lot of cats. Separating our homes was a small forest of oak trees. It would have been fun to play there, but nobody played in the witches' yard. I guess the witches weren't all that evil. One of them gave mama a lovely -- and very expensive -- black evening gown. She thought it would look elegant on our mother. Mom graciously thanked her because she knew it would make an incredible Halloween witch costume. The old witch next door never learned the truth about what happened to her dress. I think we still have that dress at my mom's place.
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The haunted forest and the witches' den from my childhood imagination
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The witches' den was still there. The oak forest looks like it has never been cleared. Very interestingly, the property is now owned by an environmental organization that saves trees, cleans the ocean, and keeps the planet green. We drove on past the haunted home, past the rival family that sold summer vegetables at a food stand like ours (the stand was still there) and on to the end of Symmes Road and the intersection of State Route 4. Things continued to change. Symmes Road used to dead-end there, but it now continued past State Route 4 as a very major road. More important, at least to me, there was a very large Goodwill store at the intersection.
I love shopping at Goodwill. As soon as we saw it, I knew I had to get a souvenir to remember the occasion. A very nice (but absolutely scary) man with Nazi SS letters tattooed on his neck let us go into the store before him. I quickly found my souvenir to remember the experience. It was a new desk chair (for me anyway) to go in my office. I will use it every day and remembera long time ago.
Haunted territory from my childhood memories
