In August of this year, I went back to my ancestral homeland of western Ohio. I was born here, in Troy, though I lived there for less than two years as an infant. Most of my family originates from this area, and much of my extended family still lives here, including my grandmother. I was there to visit and to help her celebrate her 85th birthday.
Visiting Troy usually involves passing through a very special place. That's the international airport in Dayton, Ohio, home to the Wright Brothers and thus the official Birthplace of Aviation.
You would expect that the airport in the city where aviation was born would have some pretty cool stuff, such as this homage to a Wright Brothers plane hanging in the entrance.
But my favorite thing about it is probably the carpeting in the terminal. This pattern has not changed since the earliest I can remember visiting the airport, which was maybe about 20 years ago. It's unclear to me whether the carpeting itself has been replaced at any point in those intervening years.
Exiting the airport reveals a typical view over the Great State of Ohio, a vista that always strikes me as dramatic in its own way.
And as western Ohio doesn't have the public transportation service that I'm used to, I got myself outfitted with a sweet ride for the weekend.
Leaving the airport I was immediately reacquainted with the sights, the smells, and the tastes of Real America.
After lunch it was over the river and through the woods, but I did make a stop to visit another special place, or at least a place that was special to me many, many years ago. It was called Detmer Hospital at the time.
Now called Upper Valley Medical Center, as seen on this water tower (a common sight in this part of the world).
My grandmother now lives in Piqua, just north of Troy along I-75.
And what follows is a bit of the vision, and the reality, of Piqua, Ohio.
Visiting my grandmother allowed me to do something I don't often get a chance to do, which is look at old photos of my relatives. Here's my grandmother and grandfather, back in the day.
And this gentleman is well known to me as well.
It was a fascinating and illuminating trip into the past, but the point of this visit was to celebrate the present. So off we went to live it up in what turned out to be the most happening place in Piqua on a Friday night.
Now before you get the idea that I'm making fun of da'Barrel (as it's known), I should point out that I think it's a pretty cool place. In the city, few restaurants appreciate the simple delights of a good rocking chair.
Or a gun over the mantlepiece.
Or an antique milk/cream separator.
Or a healthy portion of chicken dumplings piled high, with gravy.
And that pretty much ended my day.
Visiting Troy, which I don't do as often as I should, is like looking through a wormhole into a parallel life that I might have led. Here's where I stayed, where my uncle and aunt live, and where my grandparents lived before them. Word has it that my cousin and her husband may be taking over the homestead before too long. As the elder grandchild, maybe it could have been mine.
The house is on State Route 718, which looks pretty much exactly as it sounds.
Just next door is the local swimming pool, which has an interesting way of encouraging advance memberships.
That day I crossed the interstate and ventured closer into the historic center of town. Right near the exit ramp is one of the first signs of civilization.
The scenery gradually changes moving closer into town.
Like in more cosmopolitan areas, as the character gets more urban, you start to see more international influences.
Finally I arrived to the banks of the Great Miami River.
From there I could see the Troy Lumber Company, where I might very well have worked in high school.
Nearby is the Miami County government building, where I might have started my career.
Also along the river is the Troy City Park, which I might have had a hand in planning.
And the historic Hobart Arena, where I might have ... watched hockey games I suppose.
The park is also home to the civic theatre, where I probably would have launched my acting career with dreams of escaping this small town and making it in the Big City.
I suppose at some point I should digress and tell you a little bit about Troy. It was established as the county seat of Miami County in 1807, not long after Ohio achieved statehood. As such, it served as the business, administrative and transportation center for the county, which was (and still is) primarily rural. The industrial revolution found a place in Troy as well, as it was home to the Weaver Aircraft Company of Ohio, or WACO, one of the major manufacturers of civilian aircraft (mostly biplanes) in the pre-1950 era. As you may know, this was a very lucrative time for civilian air travel in the United States.
The park along the bank of the river provides a stunning (sincerely, this time) view across to the Miami County Courthouse, the courthouses typically being the distinguishing buildings in these old midwestern county seats. They reflect a time when public institutions were perhaps a bit more revered than they are today. This one was built in 1885, and is on the National Register of Historic Places. (But what isn't?)
Crossing to the opposite bank and into the center of town, there is a small "historic district" of warehouse buildings, refitted for who knows what.
Also nearby is the Miami County Power Station, also on the National Register. I could peek in the windows, but unfortunately there didn't seem to be anyone there.
In fact, there were very few people to be seen around town altogether on this Saturday afternoon. Which is maybe a good thing. I tend to get a little uncomfortable in places where people have to be reminded not to carry a gun around.
The courthouse looks over the center of town, where I conducted a little self-guided tour.
One of the sites in town struck me as a little interesting.
A few weeks later, I found that my interest in this display was not unique, as there was a story in the Metro "newspaper" (that's the pamphlet that a lady hands me as I get on the subway every morning, and that I throw away as I get off the subway every morning) focusing on this very same corner. The story was a feature illustrating possible political shifts in Ohio. Oh, and this is the "former furniture store" they are referring to.
While we all know that Obama won Ohio, McCain did end up taking Miami County, I believe it was about 65%-35%. Anyway, enough about politics, back to what you really want to see: funny signs.
The reason (or at least part of the reason) that downtown Troy is so well-kempt despite being so empty (if I were a real journalist I would coin a new urban planning phrase: "well-kempty") is that it has a Main Streets organization, which is responsible for decorative and informative features like the one below.
So even if I couldn't find much do much downtown, at least I can look forward to being part of the Commemorative Plaza someday.
As I ventured back out of the historic downtown, things started to look less manicured but more homelike. Here is the neighborhood where my grandmother and grandfather first lived (according to some newspaper clippings I found), and where I chatted with a resident who had moved back here after spending some time living out east. He seemed to feel he made a good move.
I also found a real ice cream shop. Not much like the fancy-pants parlors or "dairy bars" you find where I live, this one appears utilitarian, like a gas station, where you can fill up your belly with a pint of creamy heaven. And according to their website, UDF pledges no artificial growth horomones in their dairy.
And on my way out, I got to see a particularly heartwarming sight, a nice big slice of Americana worthy to be served up with a heaping scoop of UDF ice cream.
Eventually my short trip had to come to an end, as I returned in my rented ride to the James M. Cox Dayton International Airport. It always amuses me that adjacent to the airport is the American Trapshooting Association (which I couldn't get a good photo of), which I'm sure makes for some awkwardness with airport personnel.
So that was my trip. To all of you out there who think you'll never go home again, remember, it might not be as far away as it seems.
