Y-Town is my town. My Dad worked at A&P, but after A&P closed, we often shopped at Sparkle. My Grandmother, in her inimitable way, called it “Spark-a-lee.” She’s been gone for over 40 years, but we all still call it “Spark-a-lee.” They make the BEST doughnuts!! #InAroundAndBeyondTheBuckeye
Grocery shopping is one of those necessities of life. When I was young, I would accompany my dad every Friday night to shop at the A & P on Mahoning Avenue on the Westside. Eventually that store closed, but a Sparkle Markets store opened that was actually closer opened at the corner of Mahoning and N. Belle Vista, across from Calvary Cemetery.
By today’s standards, the store was small. In later years, especially when my dad was hospitalized on several occasions I shopped there for my mom. I could always find whatever she needed and the meat counter people were always friendly and helpful (and, of course, knew what chip-chopped ham was). Sometime after my folks sold their home, the store closed. Recently I wondered what was happening with Sparkle Markets with all the competition from Giant Eagle and the like and found they were alive and well around the…
Celebrate National Poetry Month by reading Ohio’s poets. Today, Toni Morrison.
Eve Remembering
Toni Morrison - 1931-2019
1
I tore from a limb fruit that had lost its green.
My hands were warmed by the heat of an apple
Fire red and humming.
I bit sweet power to the core.
How can I say what it was like?
The taste! The taste undid my eyes
And led me far from the gardens planted for a child
To wildernesses deeper than any master’s call.
2
Now these cool hands guide what they once caressed;
Lips forget what they have kissed.
My eyes now pool their light
Better the summit to see.
3
I would do it all over again:
Be the harbor and set the sail,
Loose the breeze and harness the gale,
Cherish the harvest of what I have been.
Better the summit to scale.
Better the summit to be.
When I was 17, I embarked on a trip of a lifetime: I spent the summer in Italy studying Italian with Miami University at its summer language institute in Urbino. Truly, that summer changed my life (more on that in another post). One of the most exciting parts of that trip was traveling throughout Italy and other European countries by rail. Armed with a Eurail pass, the world (or at least Europe) was my oyster: I could hop on a train anytime and go anywhere. The freedom was exhilarating. More than 40 years later, I can still hear the soothing, rhythmic sound of the train riding over the rails; I can almost feel the gentle sway to and fro as the train reaches cruising speed; I can sense the rush of anticipation imagining the clackety-clack of the arrivals and departures board (Alas, the clackety-clack is heard no longer since the old-time boards have largely been replaced with digital ones. The video below, though, captures the ambiance of those boards, and while the one pictured in the video is small, imagine board after board in the larger stations, all flipping at the same time. The cacophony was positively thrilling!).
Traveling by train is special, especially in Europe, and I’ve had the great good fortune to return to Europe many times, riding on all kinds of trains. Here, in the US, though, unless you live in an area where train travel is ordinary and ubiquitous, traveling by train is a mystery or a dream or a magical fantasy. The classic Christmas movie, ThePolar Express, portrays rail travel, albeit fantastically, to an entire generation who may never have set foot on a train, and for others, the film triggers waves of nostalgia, calling to remembrance a by-gone era of steam engines chugging along, billowing smoke, with conductors collecting paper tickets, and panoramic vistas rolling blithely by.
My Mom loves watching The Polar Express with her grandkids; it’s become a holiday tradition (as it has for so many families) – even though all of those grandkids are now adults. Still, they’re her grandkids and forever will be, no matter their ages. And, she’s always wanted to travel by train. On the trips we took together to Europe, though, we either motored by car or tour bus, so she didn’t have the opportunity to enjoy the rail experience there (other than the Tube on our visit to London or the NY subway on our Broadway extravaganza – Oh, those were great trips! Stay tuned! And, remember: Mind the Gap!). She and Dad dreamed of boarding Via Rail in Toronto and traveling cross Canada to Vancouver and Victoria, stopping along the way in Banff and Lake Louise. (Wowza! I’d love to do it, too.) Unfortunately, Mom and Dad never made that trip.
Several years ago, at the start of my summer break, I decided to surprise my Mom with a trip on a train. So, as I am wont to do, I did some research, and then, my son Benji and I headed to Youngstown; we picked Mom up, and, tickets in hand, we set out on a day-long adventure. No, we weren’t whisking her off to the airport to head to Europe, nor were we trekking north of the border to catch Via Rail. Instead, our excursion was a hop, skip, and a jump from Y-Town. The magnet below, recently removed from my old side-by-side refrigerator, is a reminder of that trip:
Located between Cleveland and Akron, you’ll find Cuyahoga Valley National Park, first named a national recreation area in 1974 and then designated a national park in 2000. Who knew? Not I, even as a life-long Buckeye. At least, I didn’t know until recently when I began researching possible nearby train trips. I’ve driven by, around, and above (yes, above on the I-80 bridge that spans a portion of the park) the park, but I’d never known that we had a national park here in Ohio.
Through my research, I learned that the scenic park offers a multitude of outdoor recreational activities: birding, hiking, camping, picnicking, golfing, kayaking, cross-country skiing. And, the park is home to and in partnership with the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad – the destination for our adventure.
In early June, on a weekday afternoon, we boarded the train at the Rockside Station in Independence, our seats confirmed in the Dome Car, for the National Park Scenic Tour. For a couple of hours, we were transported back in time, and life slowed wonderfully down: we settled in, relaxed, and watched the beautiful scenery of Northeast Ohio – so familiar, yet now viewed in an entirely unique way – roll by. Oh, we had a ball! It was a thoroughly pleasant way to wile away a summer day. Mom got to check an item off her bucket list, and, best of all, we made lasting memories together.
Make your own memories aboard the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad. Choose from a plethora of options including: Family Friendly Rides (themed rides for the littles with visits from princesses or superheroes), Dinner on the Train (4-course, chef-created meals on the train), Murder Mystery Train (role-playing whodunnit), Grape Escape (scheduled wine tasting excursions, and a special event upcoming for Valentine’s Day in conjunction with Gervasi Vineyard), Ales on Rails (craft beer sampling), Fall Flyer (for leaf peepers and all), and of course, Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad’s own version of The Polar Express – the North Pole Adventure (c’mon, take a look at that conductor in the above photo: doesn’t he look like Tom Hanks’ character in The Polar Express??).
There’s something for everyone aboard the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad. So, grab your sweetheart or the kids or your folks or your girlfriends or the guys, and make a day or night or weekend of it, riding the rails through Ohio’s very own National Park.
How could I not? I come from a football loving family.
I grew up watching the game – usually pro football – with my Dad, a diehard Cowboys fan; they were, after all, America’s team, so he said. He had great respect for Tom Landry, always dapperly dressed, fedora and all, but I think he watched them mostly because of their cheerleaders, skimpily clad in their cowgirl outfits. My Grandma McCarthy, on the other hand, loved Fran “The Man” Tarkenton and the Vikings’ Purple People Eaters, whom she fiercely cheered on. As memory serves, I might have heard her yell, “Get that son of a bitch!” a time or two. Then again, maybe not, but it sure sounds like something she would have yelled. My brother, for as long as I can remember, dressed in green and gold from head to toe on game days, screaming his cheesehead off in deference to and adulation of his Green Bay Packers.
And then, of course, there are the Cleveland Browns. Youngstown, equidistant between Cleveland and Pittsburgh, has been a city divided immemorial by football. It’s a given: if you live in Y-Town, you’re either a Browns fan or a Steelers fan. Whichever you are, you naturally despise the other. Passionately. It is a bitter rivalry, indeed. As for my family, even though folks have their personal favorites – the Cowboys or the Vikings or the Packers – we ALL cheer for the Browns, the long-suffering Browns. Though there have been intermittent moments of glory – holding our collective breath when Brian Sipe and the Kardiac Kids thrilled us with their amazing comeback victories, for example, or uniting steadfastly behind Y-Town’s own favorite son, Bernie Kosar, or losing our ever-loving minds when our team somehow penetrated the Steel Curtain – we Browns fans have had a spectacularly rough row to hoe. “The Drive” forever haunts us. Ugh. Heartbreaking. Still, we remain ever hopeful and singularly loyal. Every season. Year after year. My mantra (and I’m sure that of countless Brownies fans) is, “Just once before I die!” Oh, and we don’t hesitate to tell the Steelers fans what they can do with their Terrible Towels. Do they still even have their Terrible Towels? I’m dating myself. Alas, I have been a football fan long enough to remember Steelers fans joyously gloating, waving those terrible Terrible Towels, when they were the new rage, in our faces.
Way back though, when I was a kid and a neophyte fan, I thought the games were interminable and wondered how anybody could sit for three+ hours watching one game – just ONE game! But then my Dad taught me to appreciate the game: he explained the rules; he defined the positions on offense and defense and their respective responsibilities; he pointed out the risk of going for it on 4th down; he justified the practice of calling a time out to “ice” the other side’s kicker; he differentiated a football “Hail Mary” from a rosary “Hail Mary,” both, though, invariably, a hope and a prayer. He patiently answered my questions, even if I asked the same ones over and over again. He also taught me about “the pool” and how to strategically play the points spread. Important and practical tutelage that continues to inform my love and understanding of the game.
I moved from Y-Town to Columbus in the early 1980s. And, of course, living in Columbus, I could not NOT become an Ohio State Buckeye fan. That I did. With a vengeance. I still cheered on the Brownies while falling in love with the Buckeyes. In fact, I remember one Christmas, I went shopping at Just Sweats on Sawmill Rd (oh, that’s a whole other story for another post – a notorious true crime story involving a con, a murder, a mystery), and I bought my immediate family the same matching gift: not Buckeye gear, but instead white sweatpants and sweatshirts emblazoned with a Browns helmet. Yep. Rabid Brownies fans – all of us.
Living in Central Ohio, though, made me aware of another rivalry: now, instead of living equidistant between Cleveland and Pittsburgh, I was living equidistant between Cincinnati and Cleveland. As such, I found just as many Bengals fans in Columbus as Browns fans. In fact, many of my new friends in Columbus were Bengals fans, and they didn’t shy away from talking smack about my often hapless, but lovable, Brownies. How dare they?! This rivalry, I discovered, was just as fierce and fanatical as that with the Steelers. Oh, my. Of course, I came to the defense of my Brownies, and I stoked the flames of the rivalry: one year (1989, I think, on December 3, I remember because it was the day after my birthday), I chartered a bus – a 56 passenger bus – to go to the Bengals vs. Browns game in Cleveland, and I filled the bus with friends – almost equally divided between Cincinnati and Cleveland fans. Oh, that was fun, even though it was bitterly cold in the Dawg Pound – a bone-chilling wind whipping in from Lake Erie, and even though Boomer’s offense dominated Bernie’s that day, and even though the drive home to Columbus was terrifying in treacherous icy and snowy conditions.
It was fun, nonetheless, and I’ve hated the Bengals ever since.
My loyalty to the Browns remained unabated – until 1996, that is. For a time (when traitor Art Modell, in the dead of night, moved the Brownies out of Cleveland to Baltimore), I boycotted pro football and focused my fanaticism fully on my Buckeyes. Later, though, after the sting and disappointment wore off, I worked my way back to my Brownies and the rivalries with both the Steelers and the Bengals.
And so it remains to this day. My allegiance has, at times, faltered, though: most recently, I was skeptical of the Browns’ decision to draft Baker Mayfield as the franchise quarterback. As a Buckeye fan, how could I forget that Mayfield arrogantly planted the Oklahoma flag at midfield in the ‘Shoe after the Sooners’ blowout win in 2017? Still, that bitterness has faded; I’ve come to like Mayfield, and I continue to root on my Brownies. Sadly, their 2021 season has ended. As for the rivalries? Well, the bad news: the Steelers beat us twice this season, but the good news: Brownie QB nemesis Ben Roethlisberger is retiring. Yay. The better news: the Browns swept the Bengals. Huzzah!
And yet, the Bengals are in the playoffs. Sincere kudos to them: they played a spectacular game against the Titans last weekend, winning on the final play of the game and earning a well-deserved spot in the AFC Championship game versus the Chiefs tomorrow. They’re the underdogs. They’re one win removed from the Super Bowl.
And, rivalry be damned, this Brownies fan is rooting for them.
Though I have lived in the Columbus area for almost 40 years, I was born and raised in Youngstown, Ohio. I am a Buckeye born and bred. Well, actually, I was born in Youngstown but raised in Austintown, a suburb on the west side of Youngstown (Proud graduate of Austintown Fitch High School Class of 1981. Go, Falcons!).
Restless, in search of adventure, and attracted by the bright lights and the promising prospects of the big city, I joined the great migration that left Youngstown in the mid-1980s for Columbus, the capital city. Needless to say, this was ironic given Columbus was then widely known as a “cow town.” Regardless, my twenty year old self reasoned, aside from family, that it had more to offer than Youngstown. At the time, irony upon ironies, it seemed everyone I met in Columbus was from somewhere else, especially from Northeast Ohio. In fact, the Youngstown transplants numbered so many that an annual gathering, the so named “Y-Town is My Town Party,” convened to, of all things, connect with each other and celebrate the town we had all deserted.
Columbus, especially Dublin where I’ve lived for the last 25 years, is my home. But, “home” is where my Momma is. Therefore, Y-Town is, and will always be, my town.
Indeed, you can take the girl outta Youngstown, but you can’t take Youngstown outta the girl.
A Boom Town Gone Bust
Bruce Springsteen, my favorite balladeer, tells the sad story of Youngstown…
Well my daddy come on the Ohio works
When he come home from World War II
Now the yard’s just scrap and rubble
He said, “Them big boys did what Hitler couldn’t do”
These mills they built the tanks and bombs
That won this country’s wars
We sent our sons to Korea and Vietnam
Now we’re wondering what they were dyin’ for
Bruce Springsteen
A boom town gone bust after the steel mills closed, Youngstown, scrappy as ever, takes its punches, too many landing below the belt, but it doesn’t pull any either: even when it is seemingly down for the count, it always finds a way to get back on its feet. Sometimes wobbly. Other times punch drunk. Or slap happy. Gasping and groggy. Often on the ropes. Still, however, standing. The boxing metaphor is particularly apt considering Y-Town is the home of world champion pugilists with title belts forged in the fiery furnaces of the rust belt. More on that in a future post. It’s more than just a metaphor, though: it’s the character and tenacity and grit of its people who, round after round, answer the bell – No. Matter. What.
Before the Boom
A wave of European immigrants flooded Y-Town in the early 20th century in search of opportunities in the burgeoning steel mills – opportunities that promised prosperity and a better way of life. They settled in Y-Town, creating ethnic enclaves of Italians, Irish, Germans, Poles, and Slovaks – all with rich traditions firmly rooted in family, faith, and food (oh the food!), and all familiar with every sort of adversity. They built families and businesses and whole new lives in a whole new land. And, upon their backs and through their hard work, they built America with Youngstown steel.
The DeLaurentis Family – My Grandfather, My Grandmother, My Aunt
My Dad’s parents were among those brave souls who set sail from the shores of the Old Country in pursuit of the American Dream. They left behind everything and everyone they knew to journey to the New Country with its new ways and new language. As well, my Mom’s family – the Pennsylvania Dutch and Irish – emigrated, too, first from afar across the ocean, then from the coal towns of central Pennsylvania to that steel town of Northeast Ohio.
I’ll tell you about them.
Their stories.
My remembrances.
And, in this blog, I’ll write more about Youngstown – part memoir, part travelogue, part family tree, part history lesson, part love letter – to share with you why Y-Town will always be My Town.
Well, here we are on the last day of 2021, a fitting occasion to reflect upon the year that’s about to end. A year that began in pandemic and that is ending in pandemic. Deja vu. A year of untold hardships and challenges and grief for so many people. And yet, a year not without its delights, too.
At the start of 2021, I launched Buckeye Bonhomie on Facebook and Instagram to chronicle my adventures #InAroundAndBeyondTheBuckeye, to highlight the beauty and culture and goodness I encountered, and perhaps, just perhaps, to bring a modicum of joy to the lives of others during an otherwise difficult year.
On the brink of a new year, I’m adding this Buckeye Bonhomie blog to my social media portfolio. And, while a picture can, indeed, tell a thousand words on Instagram, sometimes I want to add a little bit more. This is the place where I’ll do that with posts and pictures as well as with the occasional podcast and video, too.
Looking Back
As 2021 began, I had just completed the first semester of the school year as a facilitator for our virtual learning program. I worked from home, monitoring students’ progress as they navigated through curriculum on two different online platforms. I’m not going to lie: it was tough for the students….and for me. I wasn’t teaching. I was facilitating, and that was a difficult adjustment to make. Nevertheless, my students and I muddled through, and we made the best of learning from home.
I did not leave my house often. In fact, I could go weeks without stepping beyond the boundaries of my own yard or seeing anybody in person other than my immediate family. I ordered my groceries online and picked them up in the store’s parking lot. Zoom and Google Meet became lifelines to friends and family. Dear colleagues kept a running text thread, checking in multiple times daily, sharing triumphs and frustrations, in order to keep each other sane. Virtual happy hours, virtual book clubs, virtual game nights became the rage. Strange times, indeed.
I needed a break, a touchstone, a reordering of the status quo. I needed to return to my happy place – my camper.
Camping Roundup
As is the usual case (just like I’m doing now), at the start of 2021, I looked back at 2020, but I also began to look forward. I planned our camping trips for the year, plotting routes and picking sites in campgrounds. Anticipating our travels, I knew it was time to retire my 2008 Nissan Pathfinder; with over 220,000 miles, she was tired. So, in March, we purchased a new tow vehicle – a 2021 RAM 1500 truck – all decked out in “patriot blue,” with shiny chrome running boards – necessary accessories for this short girl to haul herself into the driver’s seat. You see, I’m the tow master: I do all the driving and towing when we go camping.
We love the Ohio State Park campgrounds. We have our favorites that we return to year after year, but we also like to try at least one new state park campground each season. Our first trip of 2021 took us to Delaware State Park. Even though this campground is not far from home, we had never camped there before. We couldn’t wait to get out in nature, so we booked an early spring weekend. It was sunny but cold. BRRRR! Nevertheless, getting away for just two nights felt like we had been gone forever, and it was just what the doctor ordered.
Before the end of the school year, we enjoyed another weekend at one of our favorite Ohio State campgrounds – Alum Creek State Park. A short 30-minute drive, this state park is our “home” campground. I love it because most of the sites are spacious; greenery between the sites adds privacy along with shade and beauty. I saw the first cicada of the brood that burst on the summer scene. Soon, we’d see – and hear – them everywhere!
I felt more comfortable making plans to travel beyond the Buckeye now that we had a new tow vehicle: Our first trip after school let out in June would be to head south to Savannah and Myrtle Beach. I learned of an RV resort – Creek Fire Resort – on the outskirts of Savannah from the Adventure Bandits who I follow on YouTube. If you like to camp, you should follow them, too. They’re fun-loving, and their videos and campground reviews are great. Here’s their review of Creek Fire. We’d never been to Savannah before, so, since we were going to Myrtle Beach, I thought this would be a fun addition to the itinerary. It definitely did not disappoint other than that it was hot! hot! hot! But, can one really expect otherwise from Savannah in June? We’ll definitely be back. We didn’t have enough time to truly explore Savannah, but what we did see has us hankering for more!
From Savannah, we headed up to Myrtle Beach State Park. We’d camped here years ago when we had our popup camper, and that experience was memorable, so we thought we’d return for some sand, sun, and surf. This time, though, we had our 29′ travel trailer, not our small popup. Let’s say it was quite a challenge to back our RV into its site. Thank goodness for a kind-hearted neighbor in the site across the street who helped guide me into our spot. Campers are great people! We parked ourselves for ten nights, and it was wonderfully relaxing and rejuvenating. Ours was a beautifully wooded and shaded site where I could sit outside under the awning in the early mornings with a cup of coffee listening to a symphony of birdsong. Delightful. We could walk from our campsite to the beach in about 10 minutes. We didn’t have to drive, and we didn’t have to cross any busy streets because the state park campground fronts the beach. Ahhhhhh! The best part is that we paid for our full hookup campsite for ten nights what some folks pay for two nights at the condos just down the way. This was a fabulous start to our summer camping season.
We made a pitstop in both directions on this trip to break up the drive. We stopped at the same campground both times, and, in fact, we stayed in the same site both times. It was truly a gem. Stony Fork is a Recreation.gov campground near Wytheville, VA. We stopped for two nights on our southbound journey and one night on the return. I could stay at this campground for a longer time, and it could be the destination instead of a stopover. It was beautiful, tranquil, and just what I needed to decompress from the end of the school year.
I might add that my new “pickemup truck,” nicknamed “RBG,” performed magnificently on its inaugural outing through menacing mountains. She handled the peaks of West Virginia, usually a white-knuckle drive for this tow master, like a champ. I felt safe and in control behind the wheel with RBG blithely maneuvering up and down the mountains and around all the twisty-turny bends, our travel trailer firmly in tow.
We camped at another Ohio State Park – Rocky Fork State Park – for the first time this year. While our full hook up site was spacious and shady, the park itself was crowded, and we were plagued by biting flies. I’m not sure I’d go back again, especially since there are so many other state parks that we love.
One of the best finds this camping season was Atwood Lake Park. In all the years we’ve been camping, it’s crazy that we’d never heard of Atwood Lake or the Muskingum Watershed Conservancy District campgrounds. Another tip of the hat to the Adventure Bandits; we learned about Atwood Lake from their video. We stayed at Atwood for a week over the 4th of July, and we liked it so much, that we booked another ten-night stay in August for the trip that rounded out our camping season for the year of 2021. Our hope is to get on the waitlist for the seasonal site lottery for Atwood and make it our “lake house” from here on out. Wish us luck! I hope we hit the jackpot!
One thing is for sure: RVing popularity soared during the pandemic year. Plenty of folks – seasoned RVers and newbies alike – hit the road with their campers this year. And why not? It was a safe way to travel with social distancing built in, a way to take one’s own bed, bath, and kitchen along on the adventures, a way to return to some semblance of normalcy. Camping made it possible for us to rest, relax, and rejuvenate while still being able to safely experience and explore sights #InAroundAndBeyondTheBuckeye.
Buckeye Bonhomie 