The final leg of our journey to Ohio was a beautiful drive. The gloominess and rain of the previous day finally subsided. As you can see, Amstel was a little too relaxed from mixture of sunshine and calming drone of the tires on the highway.
Just before we crossed the border into Ohio we passed through a gigantic wind farm. Just the site of this massive effort to harness the power of Mother Nature to provide clean energy gave me hope. It was a good reminder that not everyone in this country of ours is asleep.
My next thrill came from passing under this sign. A certain calm came over me when I saw the familiar rolling hills and wildflowers that dotted the Ohio landscape. When I was a boy my parents would load my brother and I into the car and we’d explore the state from corner to corner.
After a reminiscing with my parents, a wonderful home cooked dinner of chicken and noodles, and a good night’s sleep we decided to set out for our old neighborhood the next morning. I wasn’t fully prepared for what I saw.
So much had changed that it was difficult for my brain to process it. My father worked so hard to maintain the 760 square foot house we grew up in and to see it in such a sad state of disrepair a mere thirteen years later was heartbreaking. So many memories were made inside these four walls that now were more than showing their age.
Right next door was where Mrs. Werkhaven lived. Since all of my grandparents had already passed by the time I was ten she was my surrogate grandmother, a very stern and learned one. She taught me to play the piano at four and we would sit on her porch and sip lemonade in the summer and she would tell me about her world travels.
We traveled past Eastmoor high school. Unfortunately I didn’t get much textbook learning in the four years I was there, but did learn a thing or two about survival and psychology. During the late eighties and early nineties this school was infested with gangs, mainly a faction of the L.A. Crips who reaped huge profits from the crack epidemic.
As a result, I don’t have the typical high school memories of proms and football games that many enjoyed but we did have good times. Looking back, I understand that there was a reason for everything I experienced there. Later, when becoming a member of the business world, I quickly recognized that many of those gang members were every bit as smart as most executives, but were just on the opposite side of the law.
Next we drove by the Grill & Skillet. I bussed tables and was a dishwasher here my senior year of high school. Restaurant work was some of the hardest I ever did in my life. I met some real characters here and what I earned at this job allowed me to buy my first car.
“It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing Changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald
German Village was the next stop in our journey. It was always a dream of mine to publish a bestseller and come back here and buy an old house with a garden. The picture below are fine examples of the brick cottages that the German immigrants built in the mid-1800’s.
The Book Loft was my favorite bookstore in the entire city when I lived here. This place was instrumental in shaping me. During college I would spend half the day absolutely lost in the books. It was here, I discovered Frank Lloyd Wright, Shakespeare, and the writings of Paramahansa Yogananda just to name a few.
When I was finished at the Book Loft I would usually stop at the coffee house next door and write. Much of my early poetry was written in this place. The storefront looks nothing like it used to in the early nineties. Back then it was called Cup A Joe.
On our way to the North Market for lunch we rolled by an old haunt of mine, The Char Bar. This place hasn’t changed at all since I was last there, in fact this probably provided me my biggest flashback of the day. I used to play pool here, for money. It seems like yesterday that my friend Matt and I would stroll into this place, order a couple of Sam Adams beers and shoot pool into the wee hours of the morning.
Our final stop was the North Market for lunch. There were almost too many delicious choices to choose just one.
Today was bittersweet. More than anything I realized how far time had marched on since I was last here. German Village is clearly in a cycle of decline and didn’t hold the same charm for me as it once did. Nevertheless, this was a good day. After all, it’s not the places or geographical locations that mean the most in life, it’s the people.
This was a good day because I spent some quality time with two people that I owe the world to. Yes, we are different now but we connect on even more levels than we did back then. Although we talk on the phone almost every single day, there’s nothing like being in one another’s presence. As I get older, I realize that time is growing more scarce and precious. In every moment I spend with these two there is something to cherish. I am beyond grateful for these memories we made today.
Did you miss my first post about our road trip? If so click here to read it.
*I am an American novelist, poet, traveler, and crypto-enthusiast. If you’ve enjoyed my work please sign up for my author newsletter at my website. Newsletter subscribers will receive exclusive updates and special offers and your information will never be sold or shared.
Eric Vance Walton - Media
