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Saturday, November 5, 2011

A Quinn Thanksgiving



Gathered around the dining room table, my family would sit down to eat. Usually, the turkey had been won at the Oglebay turkey shoot held at the old carriage barn. One did not shoot turkeys, but targets and the winner would get a turkey. Luckily, my sister Melissa was a good shot and we were able to take home the bird, but one year the prize was a radio....how does one cook a radio?

Because there were nine children, the three or four youngest sat at the "kids" table while the rest of us crowded around the main table. There was always a glass (Fostoria or Hazel Atlas?) turkey that was used in the center piece and of course, all of our school-made decorations lined the mantle. This is the same mantle shown in the movie "Doughboy" as the mother is shown doing situp.

I don't remember any ritual of saying what we were thankful for, but I do remember reading Thanksgiving poems at the table.

In later years, after we "bought the farm" (literally) in Ritchie County, we would go to the farm for the holiday. This was a tree farm of several hundred acres with no animals (except in summer when we might have a horse, some chickens, or a lamb). My dad, brothers and various boyfriends or neighbors were invited to go along to hunt. Game was thick on the farm and you could almost close your eyes and pull the trigger and something would fall. We never failed to get deer and my dad used the hides to have gun cases, vests, etc made. Our freezer abounded with venison....to this day, I can't stand the taste of it. When I lived in New Zealand, I was amazed to find that they farmed deer and knew how to make venison edible!

Huge heaters in each room and free natural gas from the wells on the farm kept us very warm after a snowy hunt. I vaguely remember going bow hunting with my dad...tracking them in the snow. But when it came to killing them, I just couldn't bear the thought of killing something so beautiful and was more than a little hesitant...now crows or snakes....yes, no need to share the planet with them, but Bambi?

Well, so much for my memories....how about you? How did your family celebrate?

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The Path

Submitted by Patty Ciripompa
(Dedicated to Patti Berry Robinson, who introduced the path to me…)

Mostly, I remember the path in autumn. The season I used it most on my daily treks to Woodsdale, fall brought every bit of its splendor to this little plot of woods. A mystery to me, the beaten path covered in glorious color and sprinkled with sunlight smelled of hope and anticipation. I often wondered how it got there, about those who had walked through its beautiful woods before me, and why it was formed. A welcome change from the broken sidewalks and steep inclines of East Wheeling, the path felt like home the first time I crossed the tiny bridge over the brook on Elm Street. Though I loved, and shall always love, the neighborhood of my earlier years, the path somehow fit who I, at the age of 14, was becoming.

Having moved to America Avenue from East Wheeling in the summer prior to 9th grade, I was introduced to the path by a friend who lived on Elm Street and had known about it forever. Most who walked the path likely remember it as a shortcut. To Colonel’s for a vanilla coke at the counter, to the glorious plot of green field where we played touch (and sometimes tackle) football on Saturdays in the fall, to home through the snow in winter.

The stuff of poems crafted later from tucked-away memories, the scent of wet autumn leaves, or a glimpse of sun-dappled trees always bring me back to the path. It can’t have been a long path – the geography of the area between Elm Street and Heiskell Avenue dictates the brevity of it. Nevertheless, it was long enough for me.

Long enough to afford time alone in contemplation, or with a close friend sharing secrets and laughs. Long enough to give free rein to our imaginings of what we would someday become or accomplish in life, or do next to entertain ourselves on hot summer days stretching endlessly before us.

Though it wasn’t narrow by any means – two or three of us could walk side by side – the path left no room for fear. When I go there in my memory, I am always guided by light shimmering down through the tall trees, although each and every day, by the laws of nature, could not have been sunny. Yet there it is – the light. From its beginning at the bridge over the brook on Elm, to its ending off Heiskell, the path held no darkness.

Thank goodness those of us who walked it were not privy to all that awaited us on different paths in times to come. Had we known, had we been told the details of future joys and losses, how different the path may have become for us. For me, the path was a beginning. Always walking to, not away from, things to come, following beams of light that bounced joyfully ahead, like promises just beyond my grasp.

I wonder now if the path is still there, and if its light would still warm me if I walked it now. Sometimes, to find my way again, I need to go back there. To retrace those steps again and again – not to remember who I was, but to recognize who I am.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Great Waldo Visits Wheeling

Submitted by David Bartens

The Great Waldo Visits Wheeling was the headline that ran in the Wheeling newspaper during the summer of early 1960's. Actually it ran every day for about a week and counted down the day until Waldo's arrival.


Waldo toured the country in the summertime, jumping off very high bridges into the rivers and bays below. I believe that Waldo's visit to Wheeling was part of our 4th of July celebration that year. It might have been during Wheeling’s Bi-Centennial or some other local "big deal" celebration. Waldo's famous jump was to be from Wheeling's Suspension Bridge.

Let me set the scene for Waldo's arrival. Wheeling at that time was a vibrant city and a fun place to go and be seen. We were an isolated community in those days. It took the interstate later in the 60's to eventually bring us in touch with the rest of the country. At this time the Fort Henry Bridge had only recently been constructed. I-70 and the Wheeling Tunnel projects were still in the planning stages. Out of state traffic was still very light around Wheeling. The old neighborhoods of East Wheeling, McColloch Street and Goosetown and all of 16th Street were still intact and full of working class families.

The Wharf was nothing like the beautiful waterside park that it is today, but it was the focal point of summertime festivities in Wheeling. There was no park and the view of the river was largely obstructed by that ugly old Wharf Parking Garage that was located on Water Street. I believe that the river at that time was accessible via a concrete boat launch. At any rate, the river area was accessible from Water Street and both bridges were clearly visible.

So here we are....thousands of people downtown and standing along the river bank for the arrival of the Great Waldo and his jump from the Suspension Bridge into the Ohio River. As I said before the Wheeling newspaper had hyped the event and this was to be the highlight of the afternoon's festivities. We knew he had arrived because of all the car traffic crossing the Suspension Bridge had been restricted and Waldo had an escort of police vehicles with their lights flashing in all their glory. There were also all those news vehicles with all their camera men reporting the great event. Wheeling dignitaries were also on hand, all walking with Waldo from the Wheeling side of the bridge to the center. The Great Waldo was easy to recognize from the Wharf area. He was wearing a very loud orange full body bathing suit. The tension in the crowd along the river was reaching a crescendo when the scheduled time for Waldo's jump started growing near. About 2 minutes before Waldo's jump, three teenagers dressed in cut-off blue jeans and white t-shirts left the Yacht Club, located on the Wheeling Island side of the Suspension Bridge and started walking across the bridge from the Wheeling Island side. When they got to within 25 or 30 feet of Waldo and his entourage, the three boys unceremoniously got up on the bridge rail and one by one dove off the bridge one at a time. The first two jumped feet first but the third boy did a beautiful Johnny Weissmuller swan dive into the river. Everyone along the river stood up and were yelling and clapping for the daring feat of those Wheeling Island boys. I don't even recall if the Great Waldo jumped that day, if he did it would have been anticlimactic. That was the last we ever heard of the Great Waldo.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Camping with Dad.

My dad was the ultimate outdoors man. He even met my mother at Boy Scout Camp (she was visiting her brother). So as soon as we could walk, he would take us camping.
Now, my mother's idea of "roughing it" was black and white tv, so she just didn't get what the big attraction was. All she knew is that she had fewer kids to look after around the house when these trips took place.
My dad was a salesman and traveled all the time so really, the only way he could spend time with us was to take us with him. Since every one of us suffered from carsickness, this was a real trial, but he loved it.
We started with a "pup tent" ...vintage WWII small tents that buttoned down the ends and had no floor. I remember my dad making an insulated "frig" to take with us as there was no such thing as a "cooler" in those days. We hit just about every state park in Ohio, Maryland, PA, and West Virginia. We would spend the whole summer this way going from park to park and only came back when we needed to wash clothes. My dad taught us the name of every wildflower, bird, fern, and where to find fossils. He was really into history so each trip always included side trips to such sites. We were expected to LEARN something, and yes, there was always a quiz later.
Next we graduated to a waterproofed parachute which had to be suspended from a very tall tree. Seems we picked up quite a few cots at the army/navy store as well. We often camped out at Senior Nature Camp at Terra Alta and got to meet experts and celebrities (professors, mostly from WVU). From there we would go to Dolly Sods, Seneca Rocks or other cool places for nature study.
Next, my dad began selling those fold-up camping trailers with the slide-out beds so we acquired one of those. By this time he was selling about four different things...figured if you didn't buy one thing, you might want another. This trailer was so popular that even when stored in the garage, we took turns sleeping in it.
Having four teenage daughters in short shorts demonstrating how easy it was to put up and take down, meant we often spent weekends at a local gas station doing just that...increased sales no end.
I have so many stories to tell about those camping trips! But I'll save them for another post.


Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Swimming In the Crick: Part 2

Submitted by Dave Bartens

Fulton Playground was pretty big. It's ball field was big enough for major league baseball, in fact Babe Ruth and the Yankees had played several exhibition games against the semi-pro Wheeling Stogies at the Fulton ball field back in the 1930's.

The playground was also big enough for a traveling carnival show that used to come to Wheeling every summer. The carnival was a lot of fun with it's Ferris wheel, breathtaking rides, a house of mirrors, freak show which featured "live" monsters, burlesque shows and numerous counters with shifty looking men telling you to "step right up and win your lady friend a teddy bear". I think the carnival would set up in Wheeling for 7 to 10 days, during that time just about everyone in town would show up at the carnival at one time or another. It was always wall to wall people and everyone had a good time. I believe the carnival was another casualty of the Interstate 70 project because after they started building the highway through Fulton it went away. I think it got moved to a site over on Wheeling Island for a couple of summers but the atmosphere was never quite the same over there. I don't know exactly what happened but by the 70's the carnival never came back to Wheeling, a tidbit of Wheeling culture....GONE.

Hill above Berry's Hole

 Anyway, getting back to swimming at Berry's Hole in Fulton. When the carnival was in town a bunch of the "carnnies" had found their way from the playground down to the crick and Berry's Hole. They were watching us East Wheeling boys dive off the rope swing into the crick. These guys were really intrigued by it all and asked if they could come across the crick and join us swimming and diving off that knotted rope swing. A couple of them wanted to try the rope swing, so we told them how to do it.
Berry's Hole Today
Like I said earlier, the first trick is jumping onto the rope and getting perched on that knot as you started your swing from the starting point up on the hillside.  Once you were sitting on the knot and starting your swing you had to make sure that you cleared the crick bank and those big rock formations and made it to the crick before you pushed the knot away, let go of the rope and formed your dive. If you made a mistake you would do a swan dive right into the crick bank or worst land up on one of those big flat rocks that jetted out from the crick bank. You also had to make sure you didn't start swinging back towards the bank and then release too late on your return trip and dive into the bank that way. You always had plenty, I do mean "plenty" of time to release safely out over the water. We always warned those first timers about how important rope release was for a safe dive.

One of the "carnnies" asked to try the swing. On his first try he released too soon and smacked face-first into one of those big flat rocks that jetted out over the water from the crick bank. Boy....that was really ugly, it really banged the guy up pretty bad. He wasn't bleeding so much but it was obvious his face had some broken bones. We carried him across the crick to the Fulton side and called for an ambulance. They took him away and I never heard how he made out, but that little incident really put a damper on all the fun at Berry's Hole for quite some time. Eventually things got back to normal.


Goosetown Tunnel Green Train Viaduct
 After we mastered Berry's Hole we were off to find a new adventure and that was diving off the Goosetown train viaduct. The viaduct is located in Tunnel Green at the entrance to the Hempfield Tunnel.

What a challenge this was...first of all it's a fairly high dive. You had to climb up the side of the viaduct face to get to the ledge. This ledge was located about half way up the underside of the viaduct. Then you had to pull yourself up over the ledge and get seated on it with your back up against the viaduct wall. The curved "arc" of the viaduct was always trying to push you off. The whole thing of getting to this point where you were going to make your dive was pretty scary.


The Viaduct Ledge

Now for the dive itself. What made the dive more complicated there was a dry land area just below you that you had to clear in order to reach the water. To complicate things even more the first few feet of water was shallow with a bottom that was knee deep in mud. These two things prevented us from diving feet first. You had to standup on top of that edge and propel yourself forward so that you dove over the dry land area and the shallow water to get into the deeper water. It still gives me the hebegebees just thinking about it... You had to prove yourself to the other guys that you weren't afraid. The dive became a "rite of passage" for us East Wheeling boys.



Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Swimming in the Crick

Submitted by: Dave Bartens


Swimming in the creek or as they say in West Virginia "crick" was a big summertime aggravation for our 1950's & 60's mothers who had young boys and lived anywhere near Wheeling Creek. I can still hear my mom lecturing me about ruining all our underwear by wearing them in the crick. "What are you going to do if you get in an accident and have to go to the hospital? You don't want to be seen wearing brown underwear like that, do you?" Finally she just gave in like all East Wheeling moms did. By summer's end all our snow white BVD's and tee shirts would be a nice shade of "crick brown". When the new school year kicked off, you could definitely tell which boys were from East Wheeling by all those brown tee shirts. It was like showing off the East Wheeling "colors".

We really did spend a lot of time in the crick in the summertime. Whenever it would get hot that's where you'd find us during the hottest part of the day. It was what we did in Goosetown as little kids. We always had to sneak because our parents were afraid that we'd drown down there in the crick. It was just something that we did as teenagers living in Goosetown. It was something that I don't remember growing out of. We were still crick swimming and bridge diving right up to the time we were all drafted into the military. It was just a lot of fun.

We would swim the crick at a moments notice so swimming suits were out of the question. Just strip down to our skivies and jump into that cool water was how we would spend our afternoons. If the crick was running clear...we swam in it. If it was muddy....we still swam in it, it just didn't matter. Even if the crick was crystal clear when we "went in" we'd end up mudding it all up anyway by stirring up the sediment on the bottom, always came out with the same result: Brown Underwear.

I still remember all the places where we used to swim: The Goosetown Trussell, along the Goosetown dump, Berry's Hole, Lindsley Wall, The Mouth where Wheeling Crick met the Ohio RIver and the Ohio RIver itself. Most all the swimming holes were in very overgrown and secluded places. At Berry's Hole and along the Goosetown Crick, it was very wooded. What was not blocked off by trees was made totally private by the dense milkweed that grew 7 or 8 feet tall all along the crick during the summer. I remember we had to cut paths through it, sometimes for 40 or 50 yards or more just to get to the crick. We'd also cut paths to secret little hideaways back in amongst the milkweed when we wanted to hide especially if we were skipping school that day. Great memories.

There weren't many good swimmers or divers amongst us guys. I was definetely not one of the good ones. One of us was better than the rest, he could hold his own on the high dives at Wheeling Park and Oglebay and knew the proper technique, the rest of us had no technique at all. We could stay afloat and get where we wanted to go...but it wasn't pretty. This was also true of our diving ability, lots of sore heads and bellies and arms that almost flung out of their shoulder socket by hitting the water the wrong way.

Berry's Hole was probably the best swimming hole around. To get there from East Wheeling you had to walk the railroad tracks through Goosetown Tunnel. The hills and crick areas on both sides of the tunnel were wild and overgrown. It was like a jungle... especially on the Fulton side. Once you got through the tunnel, you turned left on a path that led over to the bank above the crick. There was an old and overgrown Blaw Knox railway spur that you had to follow a little way and cross to get to the hill above the crick. The railway hadn't been used in quite some time and had trees growing up in the middle of the tracks. Anyway, from there you followed a path that led down the bank to the crick and Berry's Hole.

Getting to Berry's Hole from Fulton was simple. Fulton Playround was located just off Fulton Street, across from Fulton School. It was a large ballfield and palyground that went almost to the crick. I think that there's a trucking company there now. Anyway, from the playground there was a path through the trees and milkweed that would get you to the crick. Berry's Hole was just across the crick, that's where the deep hole was located.

Berry's had a fairly deep swimming hole that was about 5 or 6 feet deep on the hill side of the crick. It was very shallow and muddly on the Fulton Playground side. If you walked in for the Fulton side you usually had to tread through some muck until the water got deep enough to swim in. On the deep side, the water was always clear because of all the springs that were feeding the crick on that side. Those springs were really cold and it was very refreshing during the hottest days of summer. Along the bank on the deep side was a big flat rock formation that extended a foot or two out into the deep water from the bank. The path from the railway track ran down the hill and dead-ended at that big rock. It was a great place to dive from. There was also an oblong rock formation that protruded out over one side of the big flat rock, a couple of feet up the hill, that too was a great diving platform.

Berry's Hole greatest claim to fame wasn't it's rock formations, it was the rope swing. It was awesome..a world class crick swing. Forty to fifty feet up the hill side, above the crick, were huge oak trees..with very large branches that extended partially out over the crick. Someone, in the past had climbed up one of those oaks and tied a large industrial strength rope around one of those big branches. I always wondered who had the courage to climb out on that limb to attach that rope. It was really scary. The end of the rope almost reached the crick and had a large know tied on the end that was used as a seat. The knot probably hung three to four feet above the waterline, just low enough to be able to reach up and grab it from the crick bank. The idea was to grab the knot and climb up the hill to a fairly level landing way up the bank. As you climbed up the path you got some slack in the rope, but not enough where you could actually sit on the knot from the landing. You had to grab the rope, Tarzan style, and start swinging, put your legs around the rope and sit on the knot. It was really exciting. The swing would take you way high and out over the middle of the crick. When you reached zero gravity at the swing's highest point, you pushed the knot from between your legs and kinda hung there for a second... and then formed your dive into the crick. Man, that was really a lot of fun.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Swimming the Ohio River

Submitted by Dave Bartens

This is what I call my Brown Underwear story. When you stripped down to your underwear and swam the Ohio River your white underwear would be stained brown by the muddy river water.


We had to put a lot of thought into our first attempt to swim across the Ohio River on the Wheeling side to Wheeling Island. None of us boys, all around 16 years old, had ever attempted to swim anywhere near that far before. We didn't know of any other person who had ever actually done it before. No one to get any advice from. We were mainly worried about running out of steam out there in the middle of the river or maybe getting a bad cramp or something. We decided to find a big river log along the bank that one of us would swim with as we crossed the river to act as a rescue floatation device if we needed it. If anyone got into any trouble along the way, he could hold on to the log and float for awhile.

We knew that there was a pretty good current out there, so we picked a target spot on The Island to shoot for. We decided that if we jumped into to river around the Wheeling Terminal Railway Bridge site we would land somewhere on the tip of the North Island area. We choose the northern tip of The Island as our target because it was pretty much uninhabited back then and still is. The swim was pretty tiring but uneventful, no one had to make use of the log. Our naviguessing the current was pretty good too. It took us right to our target spot on The Island. After we rested for a little while over there we started our swim back to the Wheeling side. We ended up coming ashore somewhere north of The Fort Henry Bridge...then walked the railroad tracks along the river back up to the Wheeling Terminal Railway Bridge site to get our clothes and of course we found that swimming that muddy river had stained our underwear a golden brown. All in all, our first swim across the river was a success.

The second time we decided to swim from the mouth of Wheeling Creek to The Island. This also went well, but a couple of friends of ours showed up and wanted to try the swim we had just finished. All three of us boys were pretty tired from our first swim to The Island but we gave in and said yes we would swim with our two other buddies to The Island and back, but we would use a log just in case we couldn't make it a second time. We got half way across the river when one of our friends who was not a very good swimmer had to turn back with the log. The rest of us made it to The Island but found that we were way too tired to swim back to the mouth of Wheeling Creek. We decided the best thing to do is to walk north to the Suspension Bridge and walk back to get our clothes. After sneaking in our underwear thru backyards of The Island we reached the Suspension Bridge. We were thinking that we would cross the bridge, run around the Capitol Theater and down that road where the Steel Bridge was once located, then down to the old railroad track and back to our clothes at the mouth of Wheeling Creek. We got half way across the bridge when a police car caught us in our brown underwear. They put us into the back seat and drove us back to our clothes. They laughed at us and told us they too had done the same thing when they were young, swimming that river in their brown underwear.

Dave Bartens

The 50's Sock Hop Dances.

By Dave Bartens

I remember the Sock Hop Dances in the late 1950's at the Capitol Theater Ballroom when Don Caldwell was spinning the platters. These dances lasted into the early 1960's but the name changed to "Close-in". I can remember those big columns around the perimeter of the 2nd floor Ballroom dance floor. The Ballroom was always packed with teenagers. There were the clean looking crew cut and flat top boys and there were us, the greasers with our duck tails from the East Wheeling neighborhood. The prettiest girls were a blend of Scot/Irish, Britt, German and Polish. Most of the boys would walk around the outside of those big columns on the dance floor in a counter clockwise circle. The girls danced the latest dances like the twist, the pony, mashed potatoes, etc. with each other out on the dance floor. The slow dances, strolls and cha chas would bring the boys out onto the dance floor. Picture that scene...with the boys walking in that big circle might seem stupid or corny, but it was a lot of fun. The dances weren't as innocent as it sounds, there were those occasional fights between boys. The dances were not chaperoned like the school dances. The fights were always over the girls and the sexual tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. If you could bottle and sell estrogen and testosterone, you could have made a fortune in there in just one weekend. In the early 60's after the name was changed to Close-in the Saturday night dances became so popular that sometimes you couldn't even get in. They had a maximum capacity for the Ballroom and once they had sold enough tickets that it maxed out, they had to stop the line trying to get in. There were times when you had to wait until the dance was half over and some of the couples started to leave before you could get into the dance. It was all worth the wait because the dances were so exciting. All in all, it was good clean fun. I'm so glad that I got the chance to experience it. The other dances that would follow in the 60's and 70's such as the Blue Caboose at the old train station, The Elbow Room downtown and The Swing Club in Fulton were all a lot of fun too but could never compare with the Sock Hop and Close-in dances with it's blend of 50's innocence and the excitement of the early 60's, what a great time period! Glad I was there.

The Wheeling Park dances at the White Palace were much like the Capitol Ballroom dances but they brought in more of the live stars that had the hit records at the time. I feel kind of sorry for those lost generations that grew up in the 70's and later they don't know what they missed. It was so simple when boys were boys and girls were girls. Today it seems like girls want to be like boys and the boys want to act like hip-hop artist and a whole sub-culture of both boys and girls are stuck in the middle and can't figure it out at all...with everything influenced by narcotics and goofy rap music. I like things a lot better the way they were in the 50's and 60's. It's really sad how far we've slid since those good old days. I know that we've been to the moon and the medical and technological advancements over the last decades have been amazing but overall I think that the atmosphere and culture that our parents and grandparents handed over to us was much, much better than what the baby boomers are passing on. These generations over the past 40 years so really got cheated. Give me that old Doo-Wop music and let me dance.

Submitted by Dave Bartens



Thursday, July 14, 2011

Summertime, Summertime, Sum-Sum-Summertime!

One of the great pleasures of growing up during the fifties and sixties was the general simplicity of stuff.

Most of us had only one telephone in the house for the entire family. We shared ours with three other households. I have no idea why it was called a “party-line”. We had no parties on it. No E-mail or Twitter et al. We left notes on the refrigerator. “Baseball game - 6P Tuesday.” We wrote letters from camp, even though they usually weren’t delivered until after we got back home. We did stuff together, hand in hand, face to face. Simplicity!

The “social network” of the day was hanging out with our friends at the pool… at the park…at the drug store...on porches and in back yards around the neighborhood. Remember getting together to play records and listen to the radio hoping to hear a song dedicated to you. The telephone operators must have really loved being on duty during those radio request-line shows.

In the evenings, we took walks or rode our bikes around the neighborhood stopping now and then to “chat” with our friends who were sitting out on their porches. One of my fondest memories was sitting on our porch with my Aunt Ann listening to the Pirates’ baseball games. It didn’t take long before we had four or five kids on our porch listening to the game with us. My Mom always had ice cream, cookies, and Cokes ready for such occasions. An equally popular activity was stopping by the Quinn house for deep conversations while listening to folk music and swatting flies on their front porch. “Heavy!”

But of all the summer fun we had, I think one my most favorite things that we used to do on a warm August night was to sneak on the Country Club golf course, lay out blankets in the sand traps, and look at the shooting stars while the songs of the cicadas filled the night air. We would contemplate things only teenagers would or could contemplate. (Yes, necking was usually involved.) But, for the most part, we just watched the stars and enjoyed being together with our best friends. It didn’t get much better than that.

I am very lucky to have grown up in Wheeling. In our hectic, rush-rush lifestyle of today, I often wish I were back home so I could sneak on to the golf course for a bit of star-gazing and……whatever.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Hurray for Summers in Wheeling

I saw the picture of the Oglebay swimming pool and tons of memories came flooding back to me. I spent many hours and days at that pool starting with the first outing at the baby pool. Do they still have the wooden loungers (is that what you call them?)? I believe there was also a time as a toddler that I just walked into the big pool. Not a good idea -- I couldn't swim! At least I'm still here today to talk about it. I spent a number of hours in the pool cooling off whil I attended sports camps. What a great treat that was! I learned a little about a lot of sports and it has served we well throughout my life. I remember learning how to dive and I remember the first jump off of the high diving board. It sure was scary, but it sure was fun! Then there was "Caddy Corner." I spent a lot of time walking by there too. Of course the excuse was the concession stand! I would buy one thing at a time so that I had to make multiple trips. Teenage girls are such a mess! Actually, thinking back, it was a caddy who taught me how to kiss. Whew! Anyway...

Wheeling was a great place to grow up, and for our generation, a great time to do it. The parks that gave us so much enjoyment (Wheeling and Oglebay) are still going strong. I hope that the kids today enjoy them as much as we did.

Monday, May 30, 2011



It's so hot in Wheeling today...reminds me of taking the bus to the pool for 5 cents,spending the whole day, and if you had returned enough bottles and were feeling rich, you could splurge on a hotdog that would last you all day hungerwise.
I'll bet you have some amazing memories of the pool as well. I miss the diving boards..Coach Pugh from Linsly taught me how to do some pretty awesome diving.

How about sharing YOUR memories of the pool with everyone? We have so many good writers out there who seem so reluctant to write...I can't understand it. Come on, folks....give us your best memories.

And don't forget the picnic is this month (25th) at the Trophy Room above the swimming pool at Wheeling Park from 2 to whenever. Finally we are going to have the pleasure of the company of Charlie Swart, Mike Quinn, and Patti Quinn Greeneltch...and of course Ned! So come join us for some laughs. See ya there!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011





I was thinking the other day about those little baskets we use to make at school out of woven construction paper. One would then fill them full of wild flowers or bloomin' weeds and hang them on the doorknob of a neighbor as a May Day gift...or you could take them home to mother. Stratford Hill was the prime place to find lots and lots of wildflowers. I remember picking bluebells, trillium, violets in many hues..even white. I wonder if they are still there, I wonder if kids still pick them.

Friday, February 25, 2011

The Kissing Corner

How many of you remember the “kissing corner” on the playground?

As I remember, the Woodsdale playground was somewhat segregated by fencing. The older students played on the Maple Avenue side of the playground facing Vance Church. That’s the side where the softball diamond and backstop was located. The younger students played on the section on west side entrance facing Bethany Pike. The entrance to Mrs. Fox Kindergarten room was at the back of the building on that part of the playground.. The north side fence ran slightly behind her room and formed a “V” about 8 feet deep. And that my friends formed the “Kissing Corner”!

The game was to chase someone into that corner…the price of freedom was a kiss. Both sides played the game..... I distinctly remember being corralled by an “older woman”. Her identity and honor shall be preserved to my grave. (Name rhymes with Date).

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Valentine's Day


Time: Valentine's Day, 1956
Place: Miss Holderman's Fourth Grade Class

Underneath the front blackboard were aligned all the gorgeous, creative "mail boxes" we had prepared in anticipation of an onslaught of valentines. Red construction paper, white lace doilies, cupids, hearts...the works. This ritual included a trip to Murphy's five and ten to get the valentines, a night of signing them, and then on the big day....put them in the various envelopes. Silly slogans, cartoon animals wishing each and every member of the class a Happy Valentine's Day. On Miss Holderman's recommendation we were NOT to leave anyone out..a card was required for EVERYONE, BUT if there was someone REALLY special in the class you could get away with a BIG, HONEST-TO-GOODNESS card. At the end of the day, it was time to open your "mail box" and see if anyone was ready to declare undying-fourth-grade love. I don't remember ever getting my heart broken on the day, but again, we must have been too young even for first crushes, as those sincere Valentines seemed to elude everyone!

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Mountain Men

When I was about five, I would sit on the back porch with my Dad and look up at the “mountain range” that rose above Edgewood Avenue. I would imagine all sorts of adventures on that mountain. “Come on, Dad…can we go up there tomorrow?” Dad would always tell me that I wasn’t old enough, but he always said that we would climb to the very top when I was old enough.


I don’t remember exactly when it happened. I think I may have been eight or so. A couple of us went up to the Etz house to sell some Cub Scout popcorn. No one was home. We went around to the back of the house just to make sure. We were not prepared for what we saw in the Etz’s back yard.

There it was…plain as day…no mistake... That was an honest-to-goodness opening there in the very back of the yard. No question….it was a path! Yep, a real pathway leading right out of the back yard and straight up the “mountain”. It must have been made by the Indians or the pioneers or somebody cool hundreds of years ago.

So three Woodsdale Kids dressed in Cub Scout uniforms stood there a minute looking back and forth at each other. It didn’t take long, maybe a second, before it was agreed with nods all around. And the adventure began that perfect summer day. Off we went to explore the unknown regions of Woodsdale. I would finally scale Mount Edgewood.

“Now what?” I remember saying about a third of the way up when the trail ran out. All we could see ahead were trees and more trees. Lots of thick underbrush made climbing even harder. There was no sign of the top. Surely we were close. Then out of nowhere….mosquitoes! Swatting was useless. I don’t remember who started, but the next thing I remember we were all running as fast as we could back down the hill. The trail reappeared. Then we burst out of the woods rolling into the beautiful green grass at the Etz house. Safe at last!!!

Then I remember that we all started to laugh…and laugh. You know, the kind of laugh that says you have done something really cool together. We laughed and joked all the way home. We had done it. We had discovered the entrance to Mount Edgewood.

We promised each other, that day, we would return soon. We would do it again. Only this time we would be prepared…we would bring mosquito repellent.

Circle of Life

My friends and I would make hundreds of trips to the top of “Mount Edgewood” in the years to come. We would camp, hunt squirrels, and simply enjoy being free and independent.

Thirty some years later, my family and I were visiting my Mom & Dad. It was a beautiful summer afternoon. I was sitting on the back porch with my five year old son when he said “Dad, have you ever been to the top of that big mountain? Do you think we could go up there some time? Tomorrow?”

Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Man in the Bowler Hat

Does anyone else who lived on Poplar Avenue remember Joe Coberly? He used to leave the house only after dark and usually wearing a derby and smoking a cigar. I have no idea what he did for a living, but come to think of it, I don't think he ever spoke to anyone....at least anyone on Poplar. His aunt Aunty Freeze was the neighborhood "ghost". She would sit in her window and scratch on the windows. Some say she believed someone was hanging from the windowsill. She was in her 90's when I was a kid, but I don't remember her ever dying...isn't that strange?
Did you have any weird characters on your Woodsdale street?
Here's another question...were there snowplows plowing the streets of Woodsdale when we were kids? I never saw one, but I can still remember the sound of the chains on cars going up and down the street. How come no one uses them today?

Saturday, January 15, 2011

On the way

The kadizzles are in San Fran on way to Mex

Friday, January 7, 2011

Kadizzlites Land in Cottonwood

The night sky in Villa Neuva was amazing. Kadizzle has not seen stars like that in a long time. Being in one of the few dark spots in the United States has distinct advantages. Every year we stop at this same wonderful little state park. It is on one of the oldest Spanish routes ever used in this country. From there we busted down to route forty and headed West. The snow disappeared and it was like a different world. Now for a few days we are holed up at Mae's. Mae is Kadizzle's 86 year old girl friend. Mae has one of those special chairs for Kadizzle that automatically lifts you up to a standing position. Luckily Mae lives across the street from Patty, Kadizzles little sister. Mae insist on treating us like royalty. So got to run in to her house and have coffee and breakfast.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Snow Daze

For several years now there has been a debate as to whether we had snow days, either at Woodsdale or later at Triadelphia. I honestly cannot remember school being called off during my childhood. In later years when I became a teacher, first in Massachusetts and later New Hampshire, snow days were commonplace, and I, along with my students would be up half the night awaiting "the call." But thinking back to the 50's and 60's, I seem to remember us always having school. Can other people remember? If school were called off, how were we notified?