Category: Storyworth (Page 1 of 7)

As I finish the final chapters of my personal memoirs, Storyworth, the publisher, prompted me to list my favorite possessions, assuming that spouses and family members are not considered as such. I’ve made a list (not necessarily in order):

Antique 1915 National Cash Register – last compensation from the bankrupt Middlebury Independent, my first job out of college. They couldn’t make payroll, so I grabbed it from their adjoining restaurant, the Square Nail. 

1955 Sherm Lollar jersey – rare to find from this era and a gift from my wife, secured by our collector friend, Bill Allee. 

Steuben Glass water pitcher – gift from foreign business acquaintances of my father when he worked for Miles Laboratories in Elkhart. 

Dad’s Miles Lab 15, 20, 25, and 30-year service pins

1965 Mustang convertible model of Dad’s car that I drove to get my driver’s license in 1967.

Cuff Link box collection – sports, novelty, and antique that I stylishly wore to work each day along with a pocket scarf and suspenders. 

Framed 2016 Cubs World Series tickets.

I.U. Assembly Hall replica – gift from Adam & Eliza.

1911 Tobacco Cards including Cubs double-play threats Tinker, Evers, and Chance featured in the poem Baseball’s Sad Lexicon.

Framed photo of Lincoln Hot-Air Balloon trip with dad as part of the Indy 500 Festival.

Memory Box from 2017 Daytona 500 Race w/grands.

Mark Buehrle autographed ball from perfect game on July 23, 2009.

Coins and baseball cards – memories of my childhood Herzberg neighbors on Carolyn Avenue. 

Awards & Certificates – Running, Detroit Marathon, Crystal Business Journal Sales Eagles, and Toastmaster Honors.

Wrigley Field Brick – Three Generations: Mike, Adam, Gavyn – gift from my wife.

They also asked to briefly share some of what I remember about my grandparents Ross and Grace Hancher: 

My mom was their only child, so we spent more time with them than my dad’s parents, who spread their time between their three children. The Hancher’s had a mobile home at Corey Lake in Michigan, and another in Englewood, Florida, plus a home on North E. Street in Elwood, Indiana, their pit stop between the two locations. The two of them were constantly on the go from place to place. 

They took me to Benton Harbor Michigan to the Heathkit Factory so I could buy a walkie-talkie kit. However, they first forced me to pick blueberries with them before we could leave. I tried to speed up the process by stealing berries from their buckets to fill mine. 

Hours spent playing Scrabble, Yahtzee, and Uno or going shell collecting. I remember making shell creatures and going to the Shell Factory near Ft. Myer/ for supplies, as well as a trip to the nearby Thomas Edison home. 

Elwood Creamery and Mangas Cafeteria – buffet lunches together and ice cream. 

Raking leaves for “Aunt” Edna Pulver every year and watching the assembly line action in her Corey Lake kitchen of baking and freezing apple pies.

I was shocked to hear my grandpa swear when he took me fishing and pricked his finger on a bait hook. Also, the stench of cleaning fish in the screened lakeside booths. 

Late night trips through the woods to the Castle outhouse before they had flushable toilets in the trailer.

Photography was a hobby for both my mom and grandfather. They were never without a camera and used me too often as the subject. 

Corey Lake Sundays – Chicken every Sunday on the grill, and visits to YMCA Camp Eberhart.

Grandpa was the Elwood Postmaster. We had to wait to open Christmas presents because he was working. 

They took me to my first Florida beach in Englewood, near where we all now live. 

My sister and I often spent time with their friends, the Kaufman’s, who also lived in Bay Palms Trailer Court. 

Thanksgiving Day annual tradition with the Hizer’s in Frankfort, Indiana. 

On my dad’s side of the family, grandparents William and Mildred Johnston were also a big part of my life:

Unlike the Hancher’s, they were homebodies who rarely left the city of Elkhart. Dad and Aunt Norma both lived there but Uncle Bill was in New York state. 

After my grandmother died, I took my grandfather to the Indianapolis Speedway and to Gasoline Alley, followed by a visit to the Soldier’s and Sailor’s Monument. He liked Kellogg’s Corn Flakes for breakfast. 

There were always large family reunions on the Fourth of July at Simonton Lake, Cook’s Ranch or Oxbow Park. It’s how I got to know all my cousins. 

They lived on Maple Row house with big apple tree in the back yard that we liked to climb. 

Grandmother loved to play Scrabble and card games.

She worked in the JC Penny store while he owned a laundry called Hoosier Cleaners. 

These are all great memories and traditions that I treasure. I would not alter anything about growing up. My believe is that you can’t go back and change anything about life because it changes everything about the outcome.

Between my two marriages and raising a child we developed our own family traditions:

Siesta Key Fourth of July weeks with the McClure family games and special guests Julie and Kim. 

Dining as a group at Phillipi Creek, the Oyster Bar, and Captain Curt’s.

Driving to Ft. Wayne every year as a family to celebrate Christmas or Thanksgiving until we eventually moved there. 

Learning to ski as a family at Timber Ridge with the Clarks. Trips to Cannonsburg, Monarch, Swiss Valley, Steamboat, Mount Bachelor, and Indiana’s own Paoli Peaks.

Calmly watching or going to IU games. 

Little league baseball games that lasted forever, BMX bike racing, and swim meets. 

In my second marriage, nearly every Thanksgiving and Christmas were spent in Indianapolis at her sister’s house until we moved away to Texas. 

Two Thanksgivings, one with each wife, were spent at the Maui Classic. 

Cubs game outings to Wrigley, Pittsburg, and San Francisco. Indy 500 race adventures and memories like Mud Man, or Garage Tours with Beth, Derek, Grif and Jacque. A day at the Daytona 500.

‘Marc’s Party at Mike’s house’ was more about my work family at WISH-TV but still involved all of us.

Currently, we have weekly restaurant Date Nights and have started a new neighborhood tradition of celebrating the Chinese New Year. 

I’ll pick this up in another post before I bore you with too many personal details. If you didn’t read this far then I’m sorry that I did!

There is a tarnished gold trophy that stands about 8 inches high on my office shelf that was a prized possession of my grandfather Hancher. It was once proudly displayed in a glass case in his Elwood, Indiana home that now stands in my son’s living room. The trophy is fairly heavy in weight, unlike today’s awards. It was manufactured by Dodge, Inc. with offices in L.A., Chicago, Newark and Miami as inscribed on the inside of the base. There is one exactly like it on E-Bay for $30. This one was awarded by the Elwood Camera Club in Dec. 1956 for Best of Show Monochrome to Ross A. Hancher.

When I recently mentioned this item to my sister, she immediately asked if she could have it? I might trade her for one of my Grandma’s Emmett Kelly paintings. (See Post #1778). After all, this artwork belongs here in Florida, near where my grandparents had their mobile home in Englewood and near the area where this famous clown once performed. I had my eye on this trophy since I was a kid as an unwilling victim of my grandfather’s beloved hobby. I would spend hours in their Indiana basement where he had a studio set- up. I wore costumes, popped out of a laundry basket like a Jack-in-the-Box, and tried my best to sit still. My only reward is a series of baseball cards prints showing me in a Yankees cap poised with a bat. The rest of the photos he took, I’m not sure what to do with, some flat out embarrassing. 

Back in those days, photography required a great deal of patience handling cumbersome equipment and dangerous chemicals. It needed a willing subject, a steady hand, and hours spent in a dark development room. His basement was actually kind of scary with an old wringer washer, tiny windows, bright lights on stanchions, and a massive furnace that looked haunted. I couldn’t wait to get out of there, but there was always one more photo to take. My grandfather was a man of few words and endless patience, leading to hours of boring silence, much like going fishing with him. 

I would like to think that I was the subject of this award-winning photo. I’m sure I have it in my album collection, but I’m not quite sure which one it is. I’m surprised that my mom did not leave a note as to its whereabouts. She also caught the photo fever to further torment me, transitioning into video. I was apparently very photogenic at least in their eyes, while I became photophobic. She was seemingly never without a camera, recording everything from sunsets and food buffets. It eventually became a retirement business, The Calico Cottage, miniaturizing and framing personal photos for doll houses. Between father and daughter, I never wanted to see another camera my entire life. Then, came the I-Phone.

I have so many family photos in numerous formats, many of which are duplicates. They are in albums, on hard drives, on VHS tapes, CDs, and photo sticks. Now, they are also on my phone, as I have become more photo friendly. No more setup, processing, or storage problems – just point and click. Instant gratification instead of waiting for weeks to see if you got a good shot. In today’s world, we’re all expert photographers. 

It’s hard to believe that someday my grandchildren could be my age or that I was once their age. I can barely remember being five but there are memories of a coat room in my kindergarten class where we would go collect our blankets for naptime. At thirteen, I was at Northside Junior High trying out for the track team as a hurdler because it was the shortest distance you could run. I hated running and they had eliminated the 60-yard dash that I excelled at in grade school. I had a quick, speedy start, so short distances were ideal, but I could not finish strong in the 100-yard dash. I also wasn’t flexible enough to be a hurdler and as a result didn’t make the track team. 

Probably the most monumental occasion of growing up came in high school, I had just gotten my learner’s permit at 16 and began to drive.  Later that year I would earn my license, completing the transition from trike, to bike, to car. It was the beginning of independence in that slow transition to manhood. Grades were my sole responsibility as I began to think about college and dating. At the same time, I couldn’t imagine any girl that might want to marry me – the kid with big ears, skinny legs, and glasses. 

Do I miss these moments of my childhood? I certainly wouldn’t want to go through it again. These were awkward times for me, troubled with insecurity, lack of confidence, immaturity, and low self-esteem. In my mind, I was always just slightly above average in all the things that mattered back then – popularity, sports, and looks, wanting to be smarter, more athletic, stronger, and irresistibly handsome. I envied those who excelled around me, while enduring some bullying, name-calling, and cruelty. As I look back, I actually was in the top 10% of my class, well-liked, and somewhat good-looking, but didn’t know it at the time. It was just never good enough and maybe still isn’t!

Has my life been different than imagined? There were three unstated expectations that my parents had for me. First, was to go to college (graduated from IUSB in 1973). Second, to get married (1973 and 2001). Third, to have and hold a career (too many to mention).  My folks were all about loyalty – one college, one marriage, and one workplace, a straight path to retirement. However, times had changed, and I never anticipated changing schools, wives, or jobs. Three schools, a child, two wives, and numerous jobs was much different from what I expected. I don’t regret that I strayed from the path of my parent’s initial guidance. With each fork in the road, I found a new side of me. I could have gone on and got more degrees, found a different career, and never married. Would I be happier? – probably not. It’s just that none of you would have existed to read my stories.