Stay or Go?

Hi Bill

A few months ago Pat and I watched the movie ‘Five Flights Up’ starring Diane Keaton and Morgan Freeman. IMDb describes the plot of this quirky movie as: “A long-time married couple who've spent their lives together in the same New York apartment become overwhelmed by personal and real estate-related issues when they plan to move away.” After decades of life in this “walk-up” (no elevator) fifth-floor apartment, they and their aging dog struggle getting up (and down) the stairs and they begin looking to move. It’s a storyline that I think resonates in people around our age.

Pat and I liked this movie very much.

You may remember that, nearly 15 years ago Pat and I moved from the Brookings area to a small town about a half hour from Sioux Falls. Pat had been working for the College of Nursing at South Dakota State University and she had accepted a new SDSU position on the Sioux Falls campus. We sold the large house that we had built near Brookings and bought a smaller house on a cul-de-sac in our idyllic little town. I continued working on the main campus in Brookings and made the 40-minute commute to campus and 40-minute commute back home. We landed in “Our Little Town” because I didn’t want to add another 30 minutes or more each way to my daily commute.

I know you have never visited us since we moved here, but you have heard us talk about our house and we have sent you photos. Our house has three-bedrooms and provides a walkout from our family room to the backyard. The family room is large enough to accommodate my pool table and a comfortable TV/entertainment area. We have had extensive work done on the house over the years, including seamless steel siding, a kitchen remodel, beautiful landscaping by our son-in-law, two new roofs (thanks to hail storms) and a fenced area in our backyard where our three little dogs can run, play and bark.

Our house sits on a large lot adjacent to Rocky Run Golf Course. Our back yard leads directly to the tee for the fourth fairway, which extends straight away from our property. Therefore we don’t need to worry about inept golfers who might accidently ding our house with their pathetic golf swings. I think you know that I am not a golfer, but we walk our dogs on the golf course and we think of it as our own park. Of course we stay away from the golfers and clean up after the dogs when we walk.

When we first moved to South Dakota, back in 1983, we explored the area including our town and we were very impressed with it. We thought it was very charming with the Big Sioux River running through it and a very nice city park along the river.  Back then, we thought it would be a great place to live. However, at that time I did not want to commute to work, especially during SD winters, so we settled in the Brookings area.

However in 2001, Pat’s new job in Sioux Falls precipitated our move to “Our Little Town” – the one that we had thought would be a nice place to live when we first moved to SD. Pat and I both became commuters and it was mostly okay, except during South Dakota winter snow/ice/blizzard events and highway construction projects, etc.

Soon after we moved here, we began thinking of our life as a “Life in Paradise.” Our town has pretty much everything we need including a small hospital, a medical clinic, stores that provide the necessities, a great vintage movie theatre, and some decent restaurants, fast food, etc.

However, lately we are questioning whether we should move to Sioux Falls. Our daughter lives in the city and she would like us to move there, where it would be easier for us to get together with her. She would also be more available to help us during times of need. The half-hour drive to the big city is really not a big deal, but there are times when making that drive is not easy and/or possible due to weather. In addition, we aren’t getting any younger and keeping our property under control and in good condition is not going to get easier as we get older. Also at some point in time, health problems may necessitate that we move to the city.

In addition, while we have many friendly acquaintances, we really don’t have any close friends in “Our Little Town,” which is probably typical for outsiders who move to small towns. However, that may not change even if we moved to the city. Pat and I like people, but we are not the most social people around and that would probably not change much if we moved.  

Perhaps the most compelling factor that makes us think about moving to the city is the upkeep on our house and especially the property. Yes I have a John Deere lawn tractor and a snowblower. Yes we have maintained the house and property in good condition. However, when something goes wrong we often need to seek help from experts in the city who often add travel costs to their work invoices.

In addition, it would be much easier for us to attend events, such as movies and concerts, if we lived in the city. As we have aged, driving 30+ minutes to an event and then back home late at night on the vacant plains is not always fun, especially in the winter. Retail therapy would also be much easier if we lived in the city, although that may not be such a good thing.

Anyway, we frequently debate whether to move to the city or stay here.

However, one major factor in our dilemma is that we love our house! It is not opulent or a palace, but it is the perfect house for us, and thinking about leaving it makes us sad. A year or so ago we looked at a few houses and condos in the city. When we talked with a couple of realtors, they both said pretty much the same thing: “Why would you want to move from a house on the golf course that you love, in a beautiful little town, to a house here in the city?” We don’t quite know the answer to that question yet, but it is something that we discuss quite often.

The movie, ‘5 Flights Up’ made us realize that this dilemma is one that many aging people struggle with, but it did not help us decide what to do.  

For now we believe we will stay here in our beloved little house in paradise. However, there is little doubt that the “Stay or Go” discussion will continue.

Bill, I hope everything is good in your home in paradise.

Sincerely,

Clark

Loss

Hi Bill

Today I have been thinking about a time during my junior year at Pitt when I was living in a large two-bedroom apartment on North Craig Street with three roommates. Everything was going great for me at that time. I had everything under control and was ready to take on a bright future.

My parents (James & Marie) and me

Unfortunately, a phone call from Mom on an October evening hit me like a punch in the gut. She told me that Dad had died that afternoon. As you know, he had struggled with many medical problems in the past including a heart condition. However, he had always survived and had been doing well. That day, he had walked down the long driveway on our acreage to get our mail and Aunt Helen’s mail (she lived next door to us as you know). Then he walked back up the driveway and took Helen’s mail to her house. He walked inside the back door of her house and collapsed on the floor. She called an ambulance, but when they arrived there was nothing they could do. He was gone.

When Mom told me on the phone that he died, I could not process those words, “Dad died this afternoon.” As you know, he was a tough guy, who could do almost anything and he would never give up on anything he thought should be done. He was also a wonderful person who loved Mom, the two of us and our extended family, and we all loved him very much. We could always count on him being there to provide whatever support he could for us. However, suddenly he was gone at the age of 54.

I hung up the phone after a very brief and surreal conversation with Mom, who was of course devastated. Then I just walked out of the apartment without saying anything to my roommates. I walked around the sidewalks of Oakland and around the Pitt campus for a long time just trying to process his loss. I finally realized that I was exhausted from walking, so I sat on a bench inside the Cathedral of Learning for hours still processing. The Cathedral was not a church, but the “Commons” area felt very much like a house of worship. Eventually I realized that I should go back to the apartment.

Of course I told my roommates about my father’s death and that I would be leaving for home the next day. They expressed their sympathies and they agreed to let my professors know what happened and give them some assignments that I had worked on. At that time, I didn’t really care what the professors did about my assignments or what I would miss in their classrooms or lecture halls. I just wanted to get home and discover that the whole story was some kind of wicked mistake.

The next day I caught a train from downtown Pittsburgh to my home town. I had a free railroad pass because Dad had retired on disability from the railroad. Anyway, that was a long and sullen train ride to a home that I knew would never be the same. I don’t remember how I got from the railroad station to my house, but I think you may have met me at the station.

The next few days were very difficult and strange. Dad should have been there with us but he was gone. I had been home for a weekend a few weeks earlier and I had talked with him (strangely) about the Theory of Relativity. I was taking a beginning physics class that semester and I found Relativity to be fascinating. Dad was very interested, but I couldn’t really explain it very well to him. However, I looked forward to talking about it more with him after I finished that course.

Enduring the funeral and burial was another difficult challenge for me. Of course Mom was heartbroken and our attempts to help her were ineffective. We did help her make arrangements for the funeral and burial. I know I was not much help but I was there with the two of you when you were making some of the arrangements. I’m sure you remember the viewing at the funeral home. Lots of people, including family and friends, came to pay their respects. One of the hardest times during that viewing was when Grandpap walked up to the open casket. As you know, Grandpap was a very tall and very strong man, even at his advanced age. However, you and I had to accompany him to the casket and he almost collapsed when he looked down at Dad’s body. We had to grab him and hold him up, and I will never forget how much sadness I saw in him. Of course you know the burial was at Alto Reste Cemetery very close to our house. It was extremely hard for me to visit that grave for many years. When I was young, my neighborhood friends and I played in that cemetery, including sledding on the icy roads in the hilly sections during winters and riding our bikes in warmer seasons. We often got chased out of that cemetery. Dad’s (and Mother’s) grave is on one of those sledding hills that we enjoyed back in the day.

I returned to my apartment in Pittsburgh far too soon because I was in the middle of a busy semester and I couldn’t miss too many lectures and assignments. However, I struggled to finish that semester, especially that physics class that didn’t seem to matter anymore. I eventually took advantage of some counseling on campus and I was introduced to some very interesting, pleasing, and legal (imagine that) drugs that helped keep me under control. However, I got the best help from the pastor at the Lutheran University Center. Charles (Chuck) C. was a wonderful compassionate man who was fascinated (or maybe he pretended to be fascinated) with my life and my relationships with my family and friends. I remained good friends with him through college and for a while after. He eventually conducted the marriage ceremony for Pat and me at LUC.

Obviously I still struggle with the realities of Dad’s death. His loss was tragic for us, but he lost more than we did. He didn’t get to grow old with Mom and they loved each other dearly. He never met Pat or Rayna or Zeb. He never attended my graduations from Pitt. (I didn’t attend those ceremonies either. They just didn’t seem important to me). Mom was never the same after his death, although she struggled on for 30 years.

Well, I’m sorry to bring up these sad memories. However, we need to realize that he loved us and would be very happy and proud of us for the lives we have had.

James E. Hallman - R.I.P.

HS Graduation Photo

James and Marie

I promise to be more upbeat in my next letter.

Sincerely

Clark

I Don't Wanna Play Football

Hi Bill

I have already written about my love for baseball and what an important part of my magical young life it played. You may remember that football was also part of my childhood and adolescent life, although it was not a particularly endearing part of it.

Just like baseball, our West Plank Road neighborhood also played football. Yes, we would put on those flimsy plastic helmets and our equally flimsy plastic shoulder pads and crash into each other as hard as we could during our pickup games between teams of three or four players each, depending on how many guys were available. We also had practices under the tutelage of the older guys, i.e., you, Mike H, Mike O, and Victor P.

You were older than the Mikes and Victor and you continued attending high school in the city, where you had many good friends. You also had a part time job in the city. However, we were lucky that you made time to help us with our football skills (or lack thereof). You were especially helpful to me, teaching me how to throw and catch a football (although my hands were not big enough at first to do either of those very well). You also showed me how to block and to protect myself when I got blocked or tackled. My mantra was: “Please God don’t let those big thugs tackle or block me! Please don’t even let me touch the ball!” However, you also inspired me to “Take it like a man!” without crying, even though I felt the pain and was very scared. Eventually, you didn’t have enough time to help with our neighborhood activities due to your school, band and job responsibilities.

Mike H and Mike O continued as the neighborhood organizers/team captains and they recruited all us younger kids to play football. Well, by “recruited” I mean they told us that we were going to play! Even though we all knew that we were going to die on the field because some big ape would pulverize us, we couldn’t let them know how frightened we really were. I remember putting on the helmet and shoulder pads and feeling invincible. However, that invincible feeling vanished when I got hit with a body block or tackled when I accidentally (and reluctantly) found the ball in my hands. I tried very hard to avoid that frightening twist of fate, but I had to take one for the team every once in a while.

As we all got a little older, our neighborhood team captains (the two Mikes) began arranging games against other neighborhoods. That was a terrifying change for us younger kids, because we knew that we would have to subject our bodies to extreme brutality to be victorious for the neighborhood. We couldn’t just fall down or jump out the way when a big bruiser was barreling toward us. We had to show our prowess during those games, but us younger guys really didn’t have much prowess and didn’t want to show what we had. We just wanted to get it over with and somehow go home without any cuts, bruises, broken bones, comas, or deaths. Oh yes, we also wanted to go home as winners, but eliminating the cuts, bruises, broken bones, comas, or deaths was our biggest concern. These neighborhood teams each had conscripts of many different ages. So there would be 8 to 10 year-old’s who just tried to survive and older teammates who looked like monster trolls that wanted to win at all costs. Unfortunately, younger guys were usually sacrificed by being pushed in front of big bruisers to maybe trip them as they stomped over us. There was always lots of fear and pain, but of course crying was not to be tolerated.

It is amazing to me that those neighborhood experiences did not dissuade me from later trying to play football for our school team. I guess I reckoned that if I could survive football in the neighborhood, I could survive school football with proper equipment, coaches who hopefully know what they were doing, and officials who kept the players under control during the games. You’d think that … but naaaaah, I just wanted to impress the girls through my manly football brutality.

In any case I tried out for the football team when I was in 9^th grade. I must say that I was fairly athletic, fairly strong and tall at that time. However, I certainly did not have the kind of muscular body that most football players have. Surprisingly, the coaches decided that I should be an “End” and hopefully do some blocking and catch some passes, which sounded good to me. I would also occasionally have to try to block someone or even tackle someone. Mostly I just wanted to be a hero and catch a pass or two and run like hell with the ball – hopefully toward the appropriate goal line and without getting pulverized by some 200-pounder. However, I just couldn’t get beyond those childhood football terrors!

I was surprised by the grueling hours of practice that was required to be on the football team, but I endured. Unfortunately, right before the season schedule began I injured my shoulder in practice. I’m not sure how that happened, but it could have resulted from hitting the blocking sleds or from being hit in a scrimmage game during practice. In any case I saw a doctor and x-rays revealed a slight fracture of my right scapula. I thought my football career was over, but it was not! I had to wear extra padding on that shoulder blade and lighten up on hitting during practice. Amazingly, I was able to play the entire season and I even caught a pass or two.

It was no surprise that my 9^th grade football experience did not persuade me to continue playing football. It made me realize that I was just too thin and not muscular enough to endure the physical traumas that come with football. Or perhaps I was just too much of a sissy to endure it! Whatever - my football days ended after 9^th grade.

Amazingly, I have fond memories of all those neighborhood football activities and my 9^th grade team experiences. I don’t regret anything about those them, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to tweak those experiences just a little to make me a superstar if I could. Wait … being a superstar includes too much pressure and responsibilities! Clark is happy to be a fan.

Bill - I don’t remember whether you saw any of my 9^th grade football games, but they were not very memorable.

I hope you and your family are well and happy.

Sincerely,

Clark

This was a great group of guys that I was very lucky
to have as teammates and friends.

In The Jungle, The Mighty Jungle …

Hi Bill

Once again I have been thinking about the bygone days of my childhood and our homestead on West Plank Road. Although that neighborhood was not far from the city, it provided many aspects of a rural environment. You may remember the Hunt Club, which stabled many horses and held annual equestrian competitions. You may also remember the forested area behind (I believe south of) the Hunt Club. Now I like to call that area "Our Mysterious Jungle" because it was one of the most intriguing areas near my childhood neighborhood. You probably also remember my friends (Tom and Tim T., Pat H., Bob D. and others) who often accompanied me into that jungle.

Clark's 5th Grade Photo - 1959

The Hunt Club itself was also a wonderful place to me and my friends, because we could feed the horses and carefully pet their noses when they were outside in one of the corrals. There were wooden fences around those corrals with electrified wires on them. The horses certainly seemed to dislike those wires and so they mostly stayed away from the fences. However, us human critters could always get them to come to the fences with carrots, pieces of apple, and other stuff that the caretakers did not want us to give them. Maybe little boys back then were immune to electric shocks because we didn’t seem to worry about those little buzzes, even when we happened to lay the barrel of our metal toy six-guns on the wires. In fact it was something we just had to do when we snuck up to the corral fences to prove we were tough guys.

Anyway, the Hunt Club was on the way to "Our Mysterious Jungle", which was a favorite environment for make-believe wars, gunfights, monster attacks, and other exciting adventures. It provided an extremely dense forest with a small stream running through it. There were hardly any paths through that jungle, which made it easy to get lost and that happened to us often. However, we just roamed around until we found the winding stream and then walked upstream until we got our bearings.

Our expeditions into the jungle were always exciting and sometimes a little scary. This was “The Wild” and it was alive with creatures of all sorts. Of course the bugs were prevalent and they were ugly, beautiful, monstrous, tiny, crawly, flying, strange, and (most of all) hungry. Some of those bugs looked like big B52 bombers that were aiming to take us out. The parents always could tell when we had ventured into the jungle because of the red, swollen and itchy bites on our skin. Of course, we often captured the bugs (especially the strange ones) and brought them home where they were usually quickly executed by our parents. Then we got the lecture about not bringing bugs home and staying out of that wild forest. However, they didn’t sound like they really meant it and we considered it our duty to patrol those danger zones near our neighborhood.

Of course, we encountered more than bugs in those woods! All kinds of roving creatures including squirrels, skunks, snakes, deer, and many imaginary murderers, monsters and “Lions, and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!” were there to entertain or enslave us. Somehow we were able to fight our way to safety no matter what creatures were stalking and attacking us.

Probably the worst adversaries in those woods were the plants. They were thick, camouflaged, and ripe with noxious irritants that produced painful and itchy patches on our skin and thorns that pricked and cut us. Mercurochrome, Iodine, soothing lotions and salves were necessary after many safaris through the jungle. In addition, there were big cabbage-like plants that we called “Skunk Cabbage” because they dispersed an odor similar to skunk spray into the air and onto our clothing, especially when we kicked them. Our moms were not big fans of the skunk cabbages. However, we were men (well little men) and we didn’t cry when injured or worry about how we smelled, at least until we got home to our moms.

One of the main attractions in "Our Mysterious Jungle" was the stream that meandered through it. We would bring toy boats to float on that stream and have boat races. When we didn’t have toy boats, we would float pieces of wood. We also tried to build little dams in that stream, but they never held much water. In addition, we tried to build bridges over the stream using branches, which mostly resulted in wet boys in the stream. However, the best thing about the stream was the creatures that lived in it. We often brought small nets and containers (jars, buckets, etc.) that would hold water, which we used to catch small fish and crayfish (with multiple legs and pinchers). Then we would delight our parents by bringing them home, where we would put them in an aquarium. Unfortunately, they usually didn’t live very long but we kept trying. We also caught frogs and toads in (or near) that stream and brought them home. The toads seemed to last longer than the other creatures we caught. However, they required larger and more secure habitats. You may remember that Mom was not enthralled with me bringing toads into the house. However she did tolerate most creatures that could be contained in an aquarium.

Overall, "Our Mysterious Jungle" behind the Hunt Club provided a wonderful passage to a fantasy land for us young guys. We didn’t have many girls in our neighborhood, and the girls who were there were either younger or much older than our group of wannabe manly misfits. At that age we didn’t want to hang with the girls anyway. We lived in a man’s neighborhood and "Our Mysterious Jungle" was certainly part of that manly environment, discounting the crying from our poison ivy, bug stings, cuts, and abrasions.

Bill, I believe that you helped introduce us to "Our Mysterious Jungle" and I was proud (and happy) that you did. However, you didn’t really accompany us on most of our excursions. I wish we could visit that “Wild” place again together, but it is long gone. The entire area is full of retail stores including big-box stores now. Only our memories (as vague and insubstantial as they may be) can take us back to those wonderful days.

I hope you and your family are well and happy.

Take care.

 Sincerely Clark

My 6th Grade Class Photo - 1960
I'm the weird-looking child behind the teacher.

Love Those Dogs

Hi Bill

You probably know that today is National Dog Day! I'm sure you are celebrating with your dogs. As you know Pat and I have always loved dogs, or maybe we just need the love that dogs give us. I know that you have also always shared your love with your dogs. 

I thought it would be therapeutic for me to put together some photographs of the dogs that have brightened the lives of Pat and I (and Rayna and Zeb) over the years. Pat and I have had many dogs, beginning when we were living with our parents and continuing to the present. Our family has all received much emotional support from them over the years.

Clark's Dogs

I got Timmy (my first dog) while I was in kindergarten or first grade, when you and I (and our parents) were living with Grandpap in the city. My love of dogs began with Timmy. I confided everything with him and I have done the same with all my other dogs.

Bill and Clark holding Timmy (my first dog)

Grandpap and me with Timmy

You brought Mopper home to me in the mid 1960s after Timmy had passed. I needed another dog to share my life with at that time.

Clark and Mopper 

Bill and Mopper 

Unfortunately my parents relegated Mopper to a dog house. 

Pat's Dog

Pat's childhood dog was a large and very strong boxer named Muggs. I never met Muggs, but I know from stories told by Pat and her father (Ken) that Muggs was well-known in the neighborhood, which he pretty much ruled. He was also very protective of Pat and her family.

Pat, her brother Jim, and Muggs

Muggs with Ken (Pat's father)

Muggs with Pat's brother Jim

Clark and Pat's Dogs

Shortly after Pat and I were married we bought a Basset Hound puppy from Puppy Palace in Philadelphia. She was an incredibly cute puppy and grew into a very beautiful and large Basset Hound. Of course she was very affectionate toward us and we loved her very much. We named her Jessie.

Pat and Clark holding Jessie in December 1973

Pat and Clark with Jessie in January 1974

Jessie

We took her everywhere we went, including many visits to your house, Bill. We also took her with us to Acadia National Park in Maine with two of our friends. She loved every minute of it, except when we had to lock her in the car briefly while we were rock climbing. She loved camping, but when it rained. Tragically she became very sick at an early age and even the Society Hill Veterinary Clinic could not save her.

We lived without a dog for several years until we moved to Brookings South Dakota in 1983. Shortly after we got there we bought a wonderful Golden Retriever from a local breeder. He had a large number of puppies and they all swarmed us including Rayna who was 5 and Zeb who was 2. Rayna was a little afraid of the wild herd. However she noticed one that was calmly sitting and staring at her, an adorable little female puppy. She was the one we chose and we named her Belle.

Zeb with puppy Belle 1984

Zeb with Belle Autumn 1984

Rayna, Zeb, and Pat with Belle  1984

Rayna with Lewis the cat, and Zeb with Belle

Belle was another very sweet family member who loved and protected all of us, but especially Rayna and Zeb, until 1991.

We got another puppy in 1992 and named her Nonnie. She was half Chocolate Lab and half Alaskan Husky and she was quite energetic and determined. She loved to walk and we walked her on a leash regularly. She was an incredibly strong dog that loved to pull us wherever she wanted to go. However, she was also very sweet and affectionate like all our other dogs were. We enjoyed her company and protection until the early 2000s.

Nonnie when she was young

Zeb with Nonnie

Rayna with Nonie

Nonnie 1993

Somewhere along the way Rayna and Zeb grew up and moved out of the house. Pat and I moved into a different house in a small town near Sioux Falls in 2001. We got Lola, an amazingly cute Miniature Dachshund, that same year. 

Rayna with Lola - May 2006

Clark with Lola

Lola 

Lola

Lola was an energetic and playful dog who loved to be held and to sleep on our laps. However, she injured her back and left us in 2008.

We tried to resist getting another dog after Lola's death, but we failed. The parents of one of Zeb's friends raised Shih Tzus and we succumbed to an invitation to look at some new puppies. However, we didn't get a dog this time. We got two dogs! One of the Shih Tzu puppies chose Pat and another one chose me, and neither of us could walk away from the little black balls of fur. We brought home Lenny and his brother, Squiggy.

Lenny when he was young

Lenny after grooming

Squiggy

Squiggy

About a year later, Pat added Zuzu (a fiesty Chihuahua) to our family and she rules.

Zuzu being cute

Zuzu after a recent grooming session 

Zuzu, Lenny and Squiggy

All our dogs added much joy to our lives and we loved all of them and miss those that are gone. Our memories of them remain vivid and joyful. Our current mini-pack keeps us happy, healthy, and active because they love their walks. I hope you enjoyed our abbreviated Dogs photo album. We have several hundred photos of our dogs but I guess this is enough for you now.

Bill - I know you also have had many dogs and currently have two to enrich your life. Enjoy them. Take care of them. Also take care of yourself and your family.

Sincerely Clark

Queen City Life

Hi Bill

You probably remember when Pat and I lived in the Cincinnati area.

We had enjoyed living in Omaha for three years. However, after the birth of Rayna in 1979, I decided that I needed to advance my career and earn more money by adding some supervisory/administrative responsibilities. Therefore, I began another job search and I pretty much limited my search to large university libraries. In 1980, I was invited to interview at The University of Cincinnati. 

The University of Cincinnati is located on a large city campus in the Clifton area of the city. They flew me in for an interview and it was great to see that large city as the plane was approaching the runway. They put me in a very nice downtown hotel which enabled me to check out that area of the city. It was quite a contrast to Omaha, much bigger and more like Pittsburgh. The interview was typical, with lots of meetings and I had to do a presentation about a topic that I can’t remember. However, I must have done well because they offered me the job of Assistant Head of Reference and Bibliographic Services in the Central Library. 

Pat and I flew to Cincinnati to look for a decent place to live. Unfortunately, no one provided any substantive help with our hunt for suitable accommodations. It turned out to be a very difficult search, which left us desperate to take something so we could get back to Omaha and Rayna who was staying with friends while we were Cincy. 

I drove the truck and Pat drove our car
with Rayna from Omaha to Cincinnati

We rented the second floor of a two-story house in what turned out to be a sketchy neighborhood (Pat would offer a much-less-kind description of that neighborhood). It was a large apartment with a big sun room, living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom. However, it had no air conditioning and we were shocked at how hot it was in that city. We were lucky to be able to buy a used window air conditioner from the woman who lived downstairs. She wasn’t the friendliest person, but she was cordial. 

Rayna in our Cincinnati apartment, Aug 1980

Rayna in our Cincinnati apartment, late 1980

Pat had a very difficult time adjusting to that move. While I was a work, she was stranded in an edgy neighborhood with our one-year-old daughter in a steamy apartment. Eventually I figured out how to use public transportation to get to work and back, but I still took the car more than I should have. She tried to explore that neighborhood with Rayna, but it really wasn’t close to any decent shopping areas, business areas, healthcare facilities, or any parks that she would want to visit. 

The neighborhood also contained some very strange characters. There was an extremely strange woman in a house next door who dressed in black robes. We could also hear the woman chanting, yelling, shrieking and see her dancing around. We were very curious about her, but decided to keep our distance. Eventually, we mentioned her to the woman who lived below us and she told us that woman was a witch (seriously), and that she was from the hills of Appalachia. That reminded us that Cincinnati was just across the river from Kentucky. 

Meanwhile, at work I was discovering how much supervision I was expected to provide and trying to learn the resources that I would be using for my reference librarian responsibilities. Our department was very large, including about 12 reference/bibliographer librarians and about five support staff. My responsibilities included supervising the support staff, doing the scheduling for the librarians at the reference desk, working daily shifts at the reference desk, teaching students and faculty how to effectively use library resources, and buying books for the criminal justice students/faculty and for the reference department, and writing lots of reports. I worked closely with the Head of Reference, Cecily J., who was a very accomplished and respected librarian/administrator. Unfortunately she moved to a better position elsewhere near the end of my second year at UC. However, another accomplished mid-level librarian/administrator, Virginia P., replaced her and we worked well together. 

Pat and Rayna at The Cincinnati Zoo mid-1981

Clark and Rayna at the Cincinnati Zoo mid-1981

Rayna in our Cincinnati apartment mid-1981

After the one-year lease on our apartment ended, we “Got the Hell Out of Town.” We moved across the river into a large apartment complex in Erlanger Kentucky where we lived in a nice two-story, two-bedroom townhouse, with air conditioning and a patio outside the back slider. The complex also had a pool, but the only kind of pool Clark likes involves knocking balls around on a felt-covered table with a long stick. I don’t remember Pat and Rayna using the pool much. 

That move turned out to be a good one for Pat and Rayna. Erlanger was a nice little town that was close to lots of business/retail opportunities and services. Rayna was able to attend a preschool/playschool while we lived there.  However, I needed the car to get to work so Pat was still stranded at home during weekdays. 

Luckily, we had some good neighbors: Mr. Stokley and his wife were an older couple, who had grown up in the hills of Kentucky. They were very friendly, interesting and very entertaining. Their granddaughter (Missy) stayed with them during workdays and Rayna played with her regularly. Pat also became friends with a woman in the building directly behind our building. She had a son (Casey) about Rayna’s age and a slightly older daughter (Angel), and Rayna became good friends with both of them. 

Front - Casey & Rayna  Back - Missy & Angel

There was also a young couple who lived in the apartment next door to ours that were not so friendly at first. The guy had a large pickup that was very loud. One day he was sitting in the truck parked in front of their apartment just revving the engine over and over making an incredibly loud noise that terrified Rayna. Pat went running out the door and bitched him out big time for frightening our daughter. I thought I was going to get into a fight with him, although I didn’t leave the townhouse. However, he came over the next day and apologized repeatedly about it, saying he hadn’t realized the noise was scaring Rayna. After that we were actually more cordial with that couple. 

Kentucky certainly introduced us to some unique and interesting people. From our experience most of them are very friendly and compassionate people, who have many amazing stories to share. We enjoyed living in Northern Kentucky. I had to drive to work and back on one of the most dangerous Interstate highways in the country, but I survived. 

Living in the Cincy area also made it easier for us to see extended family members. We visited Pat’s parents near Pittsburgh and Mom (and Aunt Pauline) in Altoona a few times. Also Pat’s parents, and Mom and Pauline visited us in Erlanger. Bill, I’m sure you remember that you and your family visited us for a couple of days on your way to Yellowstone and wherever else you went. We even visited you once in eastern PA. 

Clark's Mom and Aunt Pauline 1981
in Erlanger Ky

Clark's brother Bill Rayna (with ball)
and his daughter Karena in eastern PA 1981

Jane and Pat at Bill's house in eastern PA 1981
with Andrea, Karena and Rayna

I had many good friends while working in The University of Cincinnati library system. Don T. was an exceptional scholar and friend. Randy R. was a Kentucky native and another very good friend, whom Pat and I socialized with. He and his wife treated Pat and I to a sumptuous bon voyage dinner at a restaurant at the top of the high-rise Westin Hotel in downtown Cincinnati before we moved away in 1983. Les V. was another good colleague and friend, and there were many more.

Pat (pregnant with Zeb) and Rayna
at the Cincinnati Flower Show 1982

However in September 1982, our son Zeb was born and I had to make more money. That meant we had to move again. This time it was to the northern plains of South Dakota. 

Pat, Zeb & Rayna 1982

Clark, Zeb and Rayna 1982

Pauline, Pat with Zeb, Rayna,
and Marie (Clark's Mom) 1982 in Erlanger KY

So many jobs and so many colleagues, and so many communities helped shape our lives. I often think about them and I am grateful to have had them in our lives. Unfortunately, I have not been good about keeping in touch. 

Bill, I very much regret that my job relocations left a large gap in our relationship. Neither of us were good at writing letters or calling each other. I hope these letters help close that gap some. 

Take care, 

Sincerely Clark