Coming Home, Part 2

    Well, my visit to Ohio is now drawing to an end as I fly back to Florida on Sept. 10. Before my departure, I took some time out from visiting with family and friends, to drive around the area where I grew up.

First of all, relying on 35-45 year memories of roads was a bit too much to ask. I went out to Flint Ridge State Park (the place where Indian tribes gathered flint for the weapons and utensils) and when I left there to head to Toboso, I got lost. Well, not completely, but I finally realized I was heading in the wrong direction. So I backtracked, found another road I thought I knew, and when I finally spotted the church where my first wife and I were married, I knew exactly where I was.

I already knew Toboso, the small town where I grew up, had changed immensely. The elementary school is still there, but is now privately owned. Both the house where I grew up and my grandparents’ house have changed. The hill behind the house where we went sled riding is all overgrown into a forest. I stopped and chatted with my aunt, whom I’ve not seen in ages and saw a couple of other people I knew from my youth that I had also not seen in years. Also overgrown was the Christmas tree farm where I worked during the summer of my high school years.

The old high school looks somewhat the same although additions have been made. It now serves as the elementary school for the entire district. A new high school was built down the hill from the old high school. I think it occupies the practice field we used during football season for band practice.

Change is always inevitable as we all know, yet it still comes as a shock when old memories of what used to be confront the reality of the present. And with that, here’s some photos from my visit.

 The house where I grew up. The area where the front door and window are now was our front porch when I lived there.

 My grandparents' house across the street from my former house. Spent a lot of time here growing up. There was a hedge along the front and side where the gravel is now, and an opening between the main house and the little building to the left. My grandma called that her summer cottage.

 The church where we worshiped on Sundays. The wheelchair ramp in front is a change from my youth. Our minister was the grandfather of my best friend in college.