The weekend of March 15, my hubby and I will be traveling back to the town where I grew up, Convoy, Ohio, for a weekend with the Village of Convoy (Ohio) Historical Society, which is hosting an event with authors who grew up there.
I qualify for this because of the two books I wrote for Arcadia’s “Images of America” series, one for Carroll County, Ky., and the other for Trimble County, Ky., where I’ve lived since 2003.
I’m really looking forward to meeting other local authors whose names I remember, but who I haven’t seen since I graduated from Crestview High School in 1980. I am really hoping to see some classmates and teachers, too. (Yes, you, Pam Harner!)
The last time I visited Convoy would have been at least 10 years ago, before my sister, Paula Miller, and her husband, Steve, both Crestview grads, sold the house at 214 E. Tully St. They bought it from Dad when he retired around 1982. It was the house I lived in from 1966 until college. My nephew and niece, Eric and Erin Miller, grew up there, too, and also graduated from Crestview. My sister Patti Cox and her kids, J.P. and Lisa, also are all CHS grads. We are all Knights!
I loved that house. If I could have bought it from them, I would have. So many memories, and most of them good! (lol)
There were three bedrooms upstairs, and after my sisters married (I was about 12), I would move back and forth between the two extra bedrooms. In winter, I'd sleep in the bedroom on the west side, because it stayed toasty warm. But my favorite was the one in front at the southeast corner. It had double windows facing the street, over the porch roof, and another window on the side, so it was great for cross breezes when it wasn’t too hot. On warm evenings, I would sometimes crawl through the window and sit on the porch roof and just watch the world go by.
On those sweltering summer days (and nights), it was the only room in the house with an air conditioner. This thing was a monster, it had to weigh at least a ton; it was an International Harvester window model that really cooled down that room.
Catty-corner from our house was the Stainfield Funeral Home, on the northeast corner of East Tully and Liberty streets; Robert and Judy Stainfield purchased the residence and business from H.D. Smith in June 1968. It was great having two little girls my age living practically next door; Laura Jean (Lori) and Lee Ann Stainfield became my best friends from about the time we were 6 years old, when they moved to town, until later in grade school.
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We grew apart, as kids do. Lori was in my class and was popular as an athlete and cheer leader; and smart. I was smart, too, but the complete opposite in terms of physical prowess. Their house was awesome, even when there were dead people in the parlor on the first floor. A favorite space was their basement, where Mr. Stainfield kept huge aquariums filled with all kinds of fish. He and Mrs. Stainfield were almost like second parents during that time. Bob’s nickname for me was “Phyl the Pill, who lived on a hill.” Damn, they were nice people. And I admit, I was a pill.
Their black-and-white spaniel was named Buttons. Their bedroom was in what you would call the attic, on the third floor. I remember sleeping there and thinking about the “ghosts” or whatever of the people who over the years had been laid out in the parlor on the first floor. We were not allowed to go anywhere on the first floor, especially in the back rooms where the casket showroom and the embalming room were. But there was one time I talked Lori into sneaking into the parlor to see a woman laid out for her funeral. I’d never seen a dead person before, so it was an odd experience. She just appeared to be sleeping. Couldn’t tell you who she was; and believe me, I would never have mentioned it to Mr. and Mrs. Stainfield; if I did, I’d have ended up in one of those caskets in the parlor, too.
When I was about 8 or so, old enough to walk to the grocery store a block and a half from our house, Mom would send me on errands. Believe it or not, Mom could write a note for me to give to the cashier at the IGA (probably before it was Brad's) giving her permission to sell me a carton of Raleigh Plain Ends, the cigarette brand my parents preferred. (Nope. No filters for them. They were warriors.)
And she would sell them to me! Ah, the old days.
Then, of course, every kid living in town knew the ins and outs of Hall’s Lumber, back from Tully along the railroad tracks. Hall’s had open storage buildings where they kept supplies, and one in particular was a magnet for bored little neighborhood kids. That was where they kept a huge pile of sand. We all knew we weren’t supposed to play there; true, it wasn’t exactly a “safe space.” And we did get kicked out on occasions. But who could resist such a huge sandbox where you could dig holes and play with your cars and trucks? (Don’t mind deposits made by neighborhood cats!)
The post office; Rogers’ bakery; Drake’s Hardware; the Tavern; Hilton’s Jewelry and Insurance; Floyd Jones’ clothing store; Betty’s Restaurant; Bud’s Variety Store, where we would stop for candy when the shuttle bus from Wren (Crestview South) let us off around the corner from Main on Tully street, right in front of the Tastee Freeze (I worked there the summer I was 14). It’s amazing how many businesses our little farm town could support. I’m happy that we have new businesses moving in to bring downtown back to life.
One of my favorite memories was when I was about 14. Dad would take me to the ball park on the west side of the tracks on West Tully Street. There was a little one-lane dirt road that encircled the ball field and stands, and he would let me drive our ’66 Corvair around and around. So much fun.
While growing up in such a small community may have some disadvantages, it was actually an idyllic place. Everyone knew who you were, and it really did take the village to raise the child. I knew I could get away with nothing; thankfully, I was not a naturally mischievous child. But I also knew better.
“We are the Knights, we are the Mighty Knights; Let’s fight! Tonight! Stand up! Be proud! Say your name, out loud! WE ARE THE KNIGHTS!”
I am proud to be a Mighty Knight.
NOTE: The images in the slideshow, if you haven't already guessed, were the after-affects of the Blizzard of 1978. First is the back of our house (beyond the huge pile of snow) from North Liberty Street; second, the National Guard (and my first attempt at photojournalism!) comes in to help; and third, me all bundled up to deliver the afternoon edition of The Lima News.
I remember my mom sending me on an errand to the neighborhood corner store for things with a note or she called ahead and a carton of cigarettes was also one of the items. I think at 7 or 8 the store owner didn't think I would actually try to smoke. It was so nice back then when our parents didn't worry about us being out and about in town, unlike today when you rarely see a kid alone.
I grew up in Cleveland suburbs (Eastlake and Willowick), and have similar memories to yours. I am pretty sure we were sent with notes to buy cigarettes for our Mom too! We were the errand kids to Lawson's, Uncle Bill's, and other stores. I graduated from high school just a year ahead of you, and I well remember that Blizzard of '78. I lived in Willowick then, right off Lakeshore Boulevard but a bit further west than the "snow belt." It was still intense! Great post!