cincibuck
You kids stay off my lawn!
I awoke this morning to the complete and utter delight of snow! We haven't had anything worthy of the name "winter" since Christmas of 2005, that's Oh Five.
I'm stuck grading the first set of papers for the semester so being able to look out the window and see real winter is a definite picker upper. I'll talk the old lady into a walk in the woods later. My daughter, son in law and graddaughter are coming over to watch the football games and have dinner with us. It will be fun to build a fire and cozy up in the family room.
I went out to get the newspaper this morning and saw my old Flexible Flyer sled hanging on the wall of the garage. My parents bought it for me in October of 1950 and managed to keep it hid, wanting to surprise me with it on Christmas Day. Then came late November and the Blizzard of 1950, the one that produced the famous Snow Bowl game between OSU and Michigan, and they kept debating whether to give the sled to me then or wait. They finally decided to wait and of course Christmas Day was better suited for a baseball mitt than a sled. I didn't get to use it until mid January when we finally got our second big snow of the year.
Our neighbors, the McKelvey's, had gone to Columbus for the game. Myron McVelvey had been the drum major for TBDBITL in 1936 and was going back for a reunion with other band members (He may have been the first drum major to lead Script Ohio). The trains couldn't get out of Columbus and they were stuck in the Neil House for two more days before the line back to Dayton was opened.
I remember how we used to carry buckets of water up to the top of Malcom Drive to try and set up a real patch of ice to launch ourselves. The home owners at that end of the street must have loved us! Or how we bombarded the guy that drove the road grader around... Kettering (It was not even Kettering then but something called Van Buren Township) didn't own snow plows or salt trucks... sure that if we could keep him from plowing the streets the school busses wouldn't be able to run and we'd get a snow day. Hitching rides on the back of cars... it's a wonder there are any boys around to tell you these stories... one of my friends, and fellow OSU alum, Jerry Hogan, tells the story of riding down the street on a sled lying on top of a girl and suddenly finding himself becoming aroused. She led him off to an empty garage and that day he discovered sex. Lucky bastard. Although, she was pretty ugly and just about the dimmest porch light in the neighborhood.
Then there was Hills and Dales park. It was actually a small section of Dayton Community Golf Course, but when the snow fell we considered all of it Hills and Dales. I lived on the east side of Kettering. We had to whine and wheedle an adult to drive us over there on a Saturday or Sunday and then stay there until we were frozen stiff to make it worth all the effort. I remember a couple of times going over and riding the hills at night. That took teen-age levels of stupidity. There must be half of my spine somewhere on one of those hills. One night three of us found the hood to a 1940's vintage car and rode it down suicide hill. My ass ached for a week afterwards. Ahhh snow.
Cincibuck
I'm stuck grading the first set of papers for the semester so being able to look out the window and see real winter is a definite picker upper. I'll talk the old lady into a walk in the woods later. My daughter, son in law and graddaughter are coming over to watch the football games and have dinner with us. It will be fun to build a fire and cozy up in the family room.
I went out to get the newspaper this morning and saw my old Flexible Flyer sled hanging on the wall of the garage. My parents bought it for me in October of 1950 and managed to keep it hid, wanting to surprise me with it on Christmas Day. Then came late November and the Blizzard of 1950, the one that produced the famous Snow Bowl game between OSU and Michigan, and they kept debating whether to give the sled to me then or wait. They finally decided to wait and of course Christmas Day was better suited for a baseball mitt than a sled. I didn't get to use it until mid January when we finally got our second big snow of the year.
Our neighbors, the McKelvey's, had gone to Columbus for the game. Myron McVelvey had been the drum major for TBDBITL in 1936 and was going back for a reunion with other band members (He may have been the first drum major to lead Script Ohio). The trains couldn't get out of Columbus and they were stuck in the Neil House for two more days before the line back to Dayton was opened.
I remember how we used to carry buckets of water up to the top of Malcom Drive to try and set up a real patch of ice to launch ourselves. The home owners at that end of the street must have loved us! Or how we bombarded the guy that drove the road grader around... Kettering (It was not even Kettering then but something called Van Buren Township) didn't own snow plows or salt trucks... sure that if we could keep him from plowing the streets the school busses wouldn't be able to run and we'd get a snow day. Hitching rides on the back of cars... it's a wonder there are any boys around to tell you these stories... one of my friends, and fellow OSU alum, Jerry Hogan, tells the story of riding down the street on a sled lying on top of a girl and suddenly finding himself becoming aroused. She led him off to an empty garage and that day he discovered sex. Lucky bastard. Although, she was pretty ugly and just about the dimmest porch light in the neighborhood.
Then there was Hills and Dales park. It was actually a small section of Dayton Community Golf Course, but when the snow fell we considered all of it Hills and Dales. I lived on the east side of Kettering. We had to whine and wheedle an adult to drive us over there on a Saturday or Sunday and then stay there until we were frozen stiff to make it worth all the effort. I remember a couple of times going over and riding the hills at night. That took teen-age levels of stupidity. There must be half of my spine somewhere on one of those hills. One night three of us found the hood to a 1940's vintage car and rode it down suicide hill. My ass ached for a week afterwards. Ahhh snow.
Cincibuck
