By Susan (Dopp) Corby

I just thought I'd jot down some things that I've been remembering since your web site kind of jostled my memories:

Remember those bone-chilling January mornings when you stood in your living room before 7am, waiting for the bus? It was pitch black outside on the country road we lived on (no street lights back then) and some mornings the overnight snowfall left two or three foot drifts across our driveway. I'd stand by the door straining my eyes down the road to see Don Pruden's bus headlights pierce the darkness. Then I'd head out in my long (remember midi's?) winter coat, and an armload of books (no backpacks then) and trudge through the snow with the bitter wind swirling around me to the end of the driveway. By the afternoon, on the return trip, the sun might have come out, but that darn blowing wind would have turned the top of the snow to a hard icy crust on top that would cut into your legs if you had to walk where it wasn't shoveled. Is it any wonder I live in the South now???

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I used to be involved with drama at the high school. There was always a distinctive smell in the green room - grease paint and old clothes and dust - but it was an exciting smell. Working on the plays was always fun for me. And remember the smell of the auditorium? Old fabric, I guess, but always the same -- probably still is.

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It would be great if you could solicit some more "remembrances" - I'm sure if some alumni came up with more, it would trigger memories for a lot of people.

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By David Dopp

I'll add a couple to Susan's memories. Back in the late 50's and early 60's the bus did not come down our country road. We had to walk about a quarter mile up to Route 84 and wait for the bus there. My memories of mid-January are of having to walk through the bone-chilling cold, in the dark, up to Route 84 and wait for the bus there. Sometimes, they didn't plow Walter Main Road, especially if it snowed overnight. The walk home after school wasn't much fun either!

On the other hand, springtime in Ohio is hard to beat. The sound of the red wing black birds and robins singing in the trees, the chirping of the frogs, the hum of the bumble bees, the smell of the dusty road, the heat of the sun on my face are all part of my memories. I remember walking down from Route 84 after the bus dropped us off and stopping to throw stones in the little creek that ran alongside the road. It used to fascinate me how, if you got just the right arc, the stones would stir up mud from the bottom like a bomb going off. A great way to play war-games in your mind.

On the other hand, those cold winters are also the reason I enjoy living in the South!