Man! Oh, Man!  I didn't ever expect to learn so much about Ohio.  But, I decided it was time to take a long overdue day-trip to Mansfield, Ohio.  Man! Oh, Man!  It's a destination, halfway between Columbus and Cleveland.  Who knew?  Seriously, who outside of Ohio has ever heard of this place?  Well, I guess the answer is more than you might expect.  The United States Conference of Mayors has voted the community one of “America’s most livable cities".  And, in 2000, the city was ranked as the fifth best place in the United States to raise a family.  ​It is a charming taste of small-town America with some remarkable things to see and do.  Again, who knew?  Man! Oh, Mansfield!  

A Little Bit of History     The county seat of Richland County, Ohio, was established in 1808, along a fork of the Mohican River.  In that initial year, the town of Mansfield had one house, just one house.  It was a log cabin built by Samuel Martin.  Now, Sammy didn't take advantage of the fertile farmland in the area.  No, he was an entrepreneur and land speculator who owned a grain mill on the Little Miami River, a tannery, and a distillery. He made a name for himself among the Native Americans because he sold them whiskey.  What? Man! Oh, Man!  And, that is the reason he had to flee the county the following year.  There must be a good story here, with all kinds of juicy details, but I didn't find it.  He did something illegal and had to go.  The next guy to move into the cabin was James Cunningham.  He shared the entire county with almost a dozen other settlers.

Growth wasn't exactly breaking any records.  By 1817, Mansfield boasted twenty houses and one store.  But, things changed over the next thirty years when a railroad connected Mansfield to Sandusky, Ohio, on Lake Erie. By 1846, Mansfield had two newspapers, twenty-three stores, seven churches, and a population of 2,330.  Three more railway lines brought more growth and industry to Mansfield in the 1880s and 1890s.  The town of 13,473 produced doors, brass objects, linseed oil, suspenders, and -- this will come as a surprise to you -- cigars.  Yep, Hautzenroeder & Company employed 285 people for their stogies.

And then, 1888 happened.  Man! Oh, Man! 

Kingwood Center Gardens     Present-day Mansfield boasts 33 parks.  But, if you ask anyone in the city, Kingwood Center Gardens is one of the two sites to see when visiting their hometown.  As it happens, 1888 was a good year for Mansfield.  That was the year that Frank B. Black borrowed $5,000 from his loving (and very trusting) relatives to start a brass foundry, the Ohio Brass Company.  Charles Kelly King was hired as the first electrical engineer for the Ohio Brass Company. With his guidance, Ohio Brass produced electrical fittings for railways and trollies.  King worked his way up the ladder of success and eventually became President and Chairman of the Board of the entire business.  And, when you had that kind of job, and the income to match, it was possible to plan a 47-acre complex and mansion like Kingwood Center Gardens in 1920s Mansfield, Ohio.  (There is a two-part article about a very colorful Charles Kelly King in the Roaring 20s and beyond with wine, women, money, mayhem, and murder.  Click here for part two.  Seriously, Man! Oh, Man!)

Mansfield must have been a hopping place in the 1920s and 1930s.  Most people who know anything about automobile tires know the "Big Four" manufacturers -- Goodyear, Goodrich, Firestone, and Uniroyal.  However, Mansfield Tire and Rubber Company, founded in 1912, stood side-by-side and shoulder-to-shoulder with these tire giants in the 1920s through the 1960s and 1970s.  Man! Oh, Man!  Again, who knew?  The company finally went bankrupt in 1979, and I can honestly say that I never heard of it.

Kingwood Center Gardens is the jewel of Mansfield's parks.  It offers lovely floral displays, walking paths, greenhouses, landscaped gardens, unique plant life, pools, ducks, peacocks, serenity, and so much more.  It's available for Garden Club meetings, children's events, corporate activities, weddings, and parties.  Rumor has it, it is the place to be at Christmas when in Mansfield.

In the heart of the gardens is Kingwood Hall.  King purchased the 47-acre property with his first wife, Edith May Crawford, in 1912.  They lived in the original home on the grounds.  It appears that money can't buy happiness (although I would certainly like to try to prove that it can).  Charles and Edith divorced in 1913.  The next wife, Luise Mack, tied the knot with Chuckie, or C.K. as he was known, in 1923.  Construction of the current mansion, Kingwood Hall, started in 1926 and was completed in 1929.  The marriage was completed in 1930 with another divorce.  Man! Oh, Man!  (And, once again, I'd like to prove that I could handle wealth a whole lot better.)

Kingwood Hall has three stories and is showcased with a lot of the original furnishings.  On the top floor was Mr. King's bedroom and bath which was separated by a boudoir from Mrs. King's bedroom and bath.  First of all, I had to look up what exactly a boudoir was.  It's a woman's private room.  And, second of all, if they had separate bedrooms, I am willing to wager a guess why the marriage didn't last so long.  Man! Oh, Man!    

Mr. King passed away in 1952.  Prior to his death, he established a trust to maintain the estate as a public garden.  It opened in October of 1953.  And, it truly is the second-best thing to see in Mansfield.

The Ohio State Reformatory     Who would ever think that a former prison would ever be an attraction, let alone the main attraction, in any city?  Seriously, people who budgeted the prison system in Ohio asked that very question.  Who?  And the answer is me.  Me and so many more!  The O.S.R. actually offers a variety of tours.  It should come as no surprise that there is a Ghost Tour.  There were no executions in Mansfield, but you can see "Old Sparky", the electric chair that was used in Columbus at the Ohio State Penitentiary.  Man! Oh, Man!  The Ohio State Reformatory has been the setting for a number of Hollywood movies including Air Force One as well as Tango and Cash, so there is the Hollywood Tour.  There's the History Tour that gives you a good introduction to all things about the facility.  You can even attend a Murder Mystery Dinner Theater, or the Inkcarceration Music and Tattoo Festival, or spend the night in the prison.  Man! Oh, Man!  Are you kidding me?  And, almost as terrifying, is the Halloween Blood Prison experience complete with evil clowns in the cells, deformed guards, and ear-splitting wailing.  However, the tour that would be worth a second visit is the one hosted by men who used to be inmates at the facility.  They would have stories to tell on the Inmate Tour.  

In 2018, the Ohio State Reformatory averaged 120,000 visitors per year.  Average tours run about 40 people, and they are not cheap.  However, they help to finance the renovation of the building.  Parts of the 100-year-old prison are restored and magnificent.  Other parts are in disrepair and add to the ambiance you might expect in an old institution.  I was lucky to visit on an off day that most certainly wasn't in peak tourist season.   Still, there has to be a reason why people want to visit the reformatory.  Of course, there is.  And, Man! Oh, Man!  It is some story.

Levi Scofield, the original architect for the Ohio State Reformatory, designed the building to look like a Romanesque German castle.  F.F. Schnizter was the architect entrusted for the actual creation and construction. The O.S.R. looks nothing like a prison.  Well, at least the part where the offices were located and where management was housed were elegant.  The exterior of the castle was Black Hand Sandstone directly from the Mansfield area.  Interior floors were ornately tiled, and doors were solid with brass knobs displaying the seal of Ohio.  Elegant stained-glass windows adorned the castle.   The architect wanted a building that would last the test of time and inspire the young inmates to improve their lot in life.  The graceful staircases were made from solid steel.  Wooden stairs would not have survived the years.  But, time didn't damage the steel.  Between the steel beams across the ceiling were arched bricks, because arches hold up better than a flat ceiling.  Plaster chips, peals, and falls away over the decades, but the brickwork is still solid.  To get a better grasp of the castle, check out the video on the home page of the Ohio State Reformatory.  It's very brief but so beautiful.

In 1888, there's that year again, plans were made to convert Camp Mordecai Bartley, a field that was once a Civil War training camp, into Ohio's Intermediate Penitentiary.  It was designed for young offenders who were too old for the Boys Industrial School in Lancaster, Ohio, but were not the kind of hardened criminals who were destined for the Ohio State Penitentiary in Columbus.  It was meant for young men, between the ages of 18 to 26, that the State of Ohio truly thought they might be able to reform.  And so, it became known as the Ohio State Reformatory.

When the doors opened in 1896, the 150 young men sent to the O.S.R. were treated well.  They had individual cells and the freedom to enter and leave their cells whenever they wanted.  The young men could have desks, books, and candles.  This was before electricity was available.  The windows opposite the cells were huge, allowing a good amount of light, but candles were needed in the cells.  And, everyone knew that the building with steel floors, brick walls, and a lot of cement was not a fire hazard.  

​There was a three-fold emphasis on the lives of those at the Reformatory with a focus on Religion, Education, and a Trade.  Inmates were admitted to the program for eighteen months.  If they showed acceptable progress, they were released after that time.  If they needed more time, they would stay another eighteen months.   The program worked with incredible results.  Their success rate in helping to change the lives of the young men sent there was 85%.  It sounds to me like a program that should still be used today, but we were informed that it would now be illegal.  

Over the years, the stellar quality of the Ohio State Reformatory went from bad, to worse, to inhumane.  It was a step-by-step process.  With the Great Depression, more young men were driven to crime.  Those once wonderful cells for one inmate, doubled up occupancy, and then later housed four men.  And then, on April 21, 1930, the Ohio State Penitentiary had a fire, one of the worst prison fires in United States history.  (It's a news story most people have never heard about.  A prison built for 1,500 men was packed with 4,300.  When the fire broke out, 320 men died.  Many were locked in their cells with no way of escape.  For more information on this horrific event that led to parole reform in Ohio, explore this link.)   Two hundred prisoners including rapists, murderers, pedophiles, robbers, and other assorted violent crimes were sent to Mansfield.  Man! Oh, Man!  What were they supposed to do with this population?  Of course, initially an effort was made to keep the two populations apart.

The two hundred prisoners were placed in an attic room.  Imagine a room at least as long as a bowling alley with three lanes.  There were two hundred men, three showers, three toilets, no windows, and every evening when it was time for "lights out", there was not one ray of light.  Man! Oh, Man!  The guide turned the lights off briefly, and it was simply terrifying absolute darkness!  Official Ohio statistics claim that not one person was ever killed in that room in the ten years that the prisoners lived there.  If you have ever questioned whether government sources and news media don't tell you the truth, this might be one of those times.

The cell block area was just like what you see in the movies.  There were six floors of cells all facing an open area.  In front of the cells, the waist-high fence on the walkway was the only thing separating people from the vast space below.  When the reformatory had 150 minor offenders, there was never a problem.  No safety hazards at all.  Not one little slip!    But, Man! Oh, Man! as the population shifted, the security fence needed to be raised and eventually enclosed.  It seems that hardened criminals had a lot more "accidents" than the original inmates.  The enclosed fence prevented a lot of "slipping".

For eighty years, the Ohio State Reformatory housed mostly first-time offenders.  In the 1950s, conditions began to worsen due to overcrowding.  Then, in the 1960s, the State of Ohio pulled the funding for the reformatory program (Man! Oh, Man!) and started converting the area into a maximum prison facility.  By the 1980s, conditions were so terrible that prisoners sued the state for inhumane treatment.  What might that involve?  They had to sleep with cloth over their faces to keep insects from entering exposed areas.  And, if that wasn't bad enough, it got worse.  What is worse than insects climbing into your body?  The answer is rats climbing up through your cell's toilet and into your room.  Man! Oh, Man!  Man! Oh, Man!  I'm sure there were a host of other reasons why it was inhumane, including overcrowding, but I was so grossed out about the rats that I forgot the other reasons. Perhaps you would have had the same reaction?  (For further information and great photos, explore Ronny Salerno's write up on his experience in Mansfield.)

The Ohio State Reformatory closed its doors in 1990.  The place sat vacant for several years.  During that time, pipes burst, and water damaged a lot of the building.  Local teens found it as a favorite haunt and did what local teens tend to do around the world.  And if you are wondering, they didn't try to clean and maintain the premises. However, miraculously, before the last reformatory employee left the building, an anonymous person had the forethought to remove every stained-glass window.  They were labeled, hidden away in the basement, and completely forgotten about for years.             

Redemption and the Rest of the Story     The State of Ohio planned to bulldoze the entire grounds and build the Mansfield Correctional Institution in its place.  However, all the wrecking ball demolition was put on hold because movie scouts discovered a location that was a perfect location for a Stephen King novel set to film.  Yes, in 1993, movie cameras, Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins, make-up crews, lights, cameras, and a whole lot of action arrived in Mansfield, Ohio, to film The Shawshank Redemption.  The Internet Movie Database (IMDb), the most comprehensive movie database on the internet, ranks The Shawshank Redemption as the number one movie of all time.  According to King, the prison was set in Maine, but it was actually filmed in Mansfield, Ohio.  Man! Oh, Mansfield!   The film didn't win the academy award for best picture because Forrest Gump came out the same year.  But if it is any consolation, Forrest only placed number 11 in IMDb's list.

The Mansfield Reformatory Preservation Society formed in 1995 with the intention of restoring the prison and turning the site into a museum.  The society purchased the center administration building and the two main cell blocks from the state for one dollar. However, it costs multiplied millions of dollars to restore the area.  The chapel alone, not yet completed, is estimated to cost six million dollars to restore.  The rest of the site including the perimeter walls and all outer buildings were bulldozed in order to create the Mansfield Correctional Institution just next door to the museum.

It's possible to save a few bucks and take a self-guided tour of the prison.  I thought this was a wise occasion to pay the extra and have a guide.  There were things I didn't want to miss, and without a guide, I wouldn't have even known what I was missing.  I had a great guide.  He pointed out a lot of things about the movie.  I don't remember much of The Shawshank Redemption.  I have to see it again.  But, I wanted to see the warden's office, props used in the movie, and hear any other movie tidbits he might be able to share.  My guide did not disappoint.

My favorite Shawshank tidbit concerned Morgan Freeman's paperwork for the penitentiary in "Maine".  It was supposed to be a photo of a young Freeman, well ... actually a young Red, Freeman's character.  Photoshop was not an option in 1993, so how could they get a satisfactory photo of a young Red?  The answer was easy and creative.  I was a little bummed that it didn't occur to me.  They photographed Freeman's son Alfonso.  However, the young man knew better than to just smile and say "cheese".  He wanted a cameo in his father's movie.  Ask and you shall receive, if your father is Morgan Freeman.  Alfonso is one of the prisoners greeting Andy (Tim Robbins's character) when he arrives at Shawshank.  He cries out, "Fresh Fish!" and pretends to reel in a fishing line.  I would have been one terrified Andy.

The movie Air Force One had a scene in the film where the reformatory was used as a Russian prison.  In one scene, a Russian helicopter -- complete with red star -- landed at the prison.  The governor of Ohio was warned. Local police were informed.  Everyone they could think of was ready for the helicopter.  However, no matter how well you plan things, my guide said that there was someone they forgot to give the memo to.  The people at the real prison next door, the Mansfield Correctional Institution, had no warning about the movie scene.  When the helicopter showed up, twenty men with guns rushed upon a host of frightened actors on the set.

Another jewel that my guide shared involved sort of buried treasure and almost real buried treasure at the reformatory.  When the building was abandoned in 1990, and the last employee shut the door, everyone thought there was a good chance that the whole place would be bulldozed.  I'm not sure why whoever decided to store the stained-glass windows in the basement thought that location was a good idea.  If the bulldozers did their intended job, it would have been a true buried treasure in Mansfield, Ohio.  But, the building and basement contents were spared.  The museum was opened for a few years before anyone had the time to explore the basement and find the treasure that was waiting for them there.  Man! Oh, Man!  Those windows are such an incredible addition to the museum!

Now, saving the best till last, my guide shared an experience that you would never find anywhere else.  The history of the Ohio State Reformatory is still recent enough that on occasion former inmates come through on a tour.  My guide took the opportunity to speak to one man about his experience.  This man fought in the Vietnam War.  He said that his experience at the Ohio State Reformatory was worse than anything he experienced in the war.  I've been to Vietnam, as a tourist, and walked through the Mekong Delta on an elevated wooden platform that kept me out of the horrifying muck and mire beneath me.  I wouldn't have survived the war.  I wouldn't have survived the Ohio State Reformatory.  But, Man! Oh, Mansfield!  I'm glad the site was preserved so that we can all live and learn from the experience.

A Little Bit of Circleville History     A frontier explorer, Christopher Gist, is recognized as the first European explorer in the Circleville area.  When he stayed a few days at the settlement called Maguck in 1751, he recorded that about ten families lived there.  In 1810, when Circleville was established just to the north of Maguck, the founding fathers hoped that their location in and around Hopewell mounds in the area would help to preserve and maintain the mounds.  The original city plan for Circleville was a round design, made to model the historic mounds.  Alas!  The mounds didn't remain and neither did the circular grid for "Roundtown".  Circleville was no longer a circle by the 1860s.

Like so many old towns across Ohio, Circleville has a treasure trove of old homes build in the late 1800s.  Even if there were no pumpkins and no festival, it's worth the visit to take in the views.  Some homes need a lot of love, tender care, and repair.  Other homes across the state and in Circleville have been turned into funeral parlors, legal offices, bed and breakfasts, or treasured dwellings that I would adore calling home.

The Pumpkin Show     When the Pumpkin Show comes to town, the heart of Circleville is filled with carnival rides, food trucks and booths, as well games to test your skills and empty your pockets.  Each of the four days of the show attracts approximately 100,00 visitors to the town of almost 14,000 people.  There are all the usual festivity treats that you would expect like elephant ears, corn dogs, cotton candy, ice cream, pies, fries, and assorted calories.  But, in Circleville, it should come as no surprise that a lot of things are made from pumpkin.  Of course, that's going to include pumpkin spice lattes, but you'll also find pumpkin donuts, pumpkin chili, pumpkin burgers, pumpkin popcorn, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin waffles, pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin butter, pumpkin fudge, pumpkin taffy, pumpkin yogurt, pumpkin bread, pumpkin spread, pumpkin dog treats, and, yes, even pumpkin pie.

I used to say that Ohio was a great state to be from but not in.  What can I say?  I loved living in Morocco, wandering Southeast Asia, going on African safari, and exploring the art that Europe has to offer.  Okay, in my mind Ohio still doesn't quite compare to all that, but it is a lovely part of the United States to experience.  And, for not such an exceptionally large state, it is quite varied with its geography.

Geologists tell us that the glaciers of the last ice age covered about two-thirds of northern and western Ohio.  If you wander that part of the state, it's generally flat with rolling hills and great farmland.  Actually, there's good farming all over the state, and a lot of it is managed by the Amish, which is just so charming to explore.  Those glaciers also carved out what was to become the Great Lakes.  They formed those lakes when their waters melted and filled the area.  

But, for this journey, I found myself in southern Ohio.  My brother and I toured our family roots in the Cincinnati area.  Even with a stopover at the Goodwill store, that took about an hour.  We needed to find another stop on our adventure.  I heard that the Great Serpent Mound had recently been added to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization's list of World Heritage Sites.  As it turns out, I was mistaken about UNESCO.  But, it was still a wonderful adventure.

It's very easy to go north and south in Ohio to the major metropolitan areas of Cincinnati, Columbus, Cleveland, and Toledo.  However, the Great Serpent Mound is in Ohio's hill country in the south.  The glaciers never made it as far as southeastern Ohio.  The hills in southern Ohio are actually the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.  Now, seriously, who knew that they are some of the oldest mountains in the world?  When they were new, they rivaled or surpassed the Rocky Mountains and the European Alps in height.  Again, who knew that?

A drive into these foothills has no major interstate highway.  It's a winding drive through rural Ohio, tiny villages, along with lots of hills, trees, twists and turns, and farmland.  As I said, a lot of Ohio's farmers are Amish.  If you're lucky, you may see a horse-drawn carriage.  Certainly, you'll see Amish farms without electricity and "road apples" along the way where horses once trod.  And, you'll probably see an Amish woman who somehow successfully manages to maneuver a bicycle in spite of her long, flowing skirt.  How she doesn't get it tangled in the bike chain is a mystery to me.  An Amish miracle!

Hopewell Culture National Historical Park     As I searched neighboring counties on the way home, about an hour away in the right direction, I found the Mound City Group, Hopewell Cultural National Historic Park.  I'd never heard of it before.  I had no idea what I might see there.  But, since I'd already explored one mound site, I thought it might be a good thing to go to another site on the same journey.  Upon arrival, I discovered that the Mound City  Group was part of eight mound locations in the area that made up the Hopewell Cultural National Historic Park. And, believe it or not, less than two weeks ago, these eight sites were named a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. Life is stranger than fiction.  I couldn't have planned it this way.

In my day of touring, I learned that there were three groups of mound builders in this part of Ohio.  I've already mentioned the Adena and the Fort Ancient cultures.  The third group of mound builders were the Hopewell.  If you hope that these people got their name in a better way than the Adena builders, well, don't get your hopes up.  The name came from Mordecai Hopewell, a Confederate veteran of the U.S. Civil War, who owned a farm in Ross County where a lot of impressive mounds and earthworks were excavated in 1891.  Nobody knows what these mound builders, who flourished from about 200 BC to 500 AD, actually called themselves.  But, today, they are known as the Hopewell culture.  Just like the Adena, the Hopewell are not just one culture or society, but are made up a widely dispersed population.

In 1923, President Warren G. Harding signed the proclamation to protect the Mound City National Monument, which would eventually become known as the Hopewell Cultural National Historic Park.  Over the years, additional lands were included for preservation.  The law to officially establish the national park was signed in 1992.  The site at Mound City is the only fully restored Hopewell earthwork complex.  The area is larger than ten football fields and contains around two dozen mounds.  The entire site is surrounded by an earthen embankment about three-feet-tall.  However, in the 1840s, it was four to six feet tall.

There is no evidence that the Hopewell people actually lived at the Mound City Group.  (Excavation of Hopewell dwelling sites indicate no more than three homes. There were no great Hopewell cities or villages.  The people made their living by hunting, farming, gathering, and trading.) The individual mounds at the Mound City Group were for burial.  Originally a large ceremonial building made of poles and bark was built over a plastered clay floor. Cremated bodies were entombed on the floor of the building with a clay covering. Next to the burial site, works of Hopewell art made of copper, stone, shell, and bone were placed on the floor of the building. After many similar ceremonies, the buildings were either burned down or taken away.  When the building of the house was removed, the construction of the mound began in stages.  The mounds alternated between layers of clay and sand.  

Artifacts recovered from the mounds indicate that the Hopewell traded goods across much of what would become the United States.  The Hopewell were very skilled artisans, and the beauty and richness of the artifacts indicates that the burial site may have been reserved for the most important people in the culture.  The artisans used exotic materials not naturally found in southeast Ohio to create necklaces, headdresses, arrowheads, tools, ornaments, and pipes.  They worked with obsidian from the Rocky Mountains, seashells from Florida's Gulf Coast, flint from North Dakota, copper from upper Michigan, silver from Canada, shark's teeth from the Atlantic shores, and mica from North Carolina.

Saving the Worst News for (Almost) Last     The grounds of the Mound City Group were surveyed in 1846 by Ephraim Squier and Edwin Davis when the land was still covered in forest.  These two men actually came up with the name Mound City because of its collection of earthen works.  It was a good move to preserve historical records.  But, that natural protection of the forest didn't outlast the need for agricultural space.  In time, farmers plowed over the mounds and the earthen wall that surrounded them to farm the land for fifty years.  If that wasn't bad enough, during World War I, the area was used as an Army training facility.  Engineers grated the place even flatter than the farmers.  Very fortunately, the level of the original floors was below ground level.  The Ohio Historical and Archaeological Society funded reconstruction of the mound site in 1920-21.  And then, President Harding came to the rescue.

And, Finally     The ceremonial center at the Mound City Group was used for sacred rituals, gatherings, and burials.  But, there is much more to learn about the Hopewell culture in neighboring sites in the area.  The Hopewell people carefully watched the heavens.  With an understanding of mathematics and astronomy that boggle my simple mind, they charted the course of the moon in its 18.6-year-cycle.  I didn't even know the moon had an 18.6-year-cycle!  The Octagon Earthworks (which since 1910 has been home to the Moundbuilders Country Club - FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!  WHAT KIND OF DESICRATION IS THAT?) uses geometric shapes and angles on the ground to chart four moon risings and four moon settings in that very long cycle.  It's the same kind of genius that you think of when you read about the wonders of the ancient Egyptian, Chinese, Maya, and Incan cultures.  That genius may be why I've visited the Pyramids, the Great Wall, Tikal, and Machu Picchu.  It's my hope, that with this new UNESCO recognition, that people will also learn about the Hopewell culture.  The Mound City Group should be added to everyone's list of places to wander.

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.

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.

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 remember a long time ago.