I figured I’d be the last person on the planet to have a blog. Most blogs are but glorified diaries. I’ve never had a diary before, so why, at age 32, would I start one? Well, as it turns out, they’re fun to read. My brother has had a blog for quite some time now, and I find myself looking forward to each new entry. It’s not because the writing is eloquent, though sometimes it is. Nor is it because it’s particularly humorous or even entertaining. It’s because it allows me to connect to someone who is like myself. Folks talk about what they like. Likewise, they write about things that interest them. The difference is that reading a blog cuts through any awkwardness in a conversation and gets right to the meat of a topic, making it easier to talk about said topic at a later date. It is for this reason that I want a blog.

So why tonight? Why did I choose this particular day to begin my diary? (I’m not going to mince words about what I’m doing here.) It’s because I drove through Grove City. What, you say? Let me back up. My wife and I recently joined a Yahoo! group called FreeCycle. The group’s stated purpose is to limit the amount of items that end up in landfills, specifically by giving members a forum to unload things that they intend to throw out. Many of these items are immediatly scarfed up by folks like myself who can see a good use for anything. The last few weeks have taken me all over the city picking up various items previously condemned to the garbage. Some have worked out, some have not, but that’s another story. Tonight, my wife sent me to Grove City to pick up a bassinet for my daughter Ellie. Always loving a good drive, I was eager to go and took off in my old truck shortly after supper.

As I was getting off the highway onto Stringtown Road, the first wave of nostalgia hit me. I rarely travel that far south anymore unless heading to my parents, and I never get off the highway. The most time I’ve ever spent on Stringtown Road was during the annual State FFA convention during my high school years. Our group stayed at a hotel beside Cracker Barrel and spent much of the evening and night running from store to store on Stringtown Road looking for squirt guns. It was incredibly fun in a strange way, and being on Stringtown Road immediately brought back all the memories.

The second wave of nostalgia hit as I got further down the road. The road I was looking for was not labeled as I expected it to be and so I drove to the end of Stringtown Road, right to the middle of old Grove City. The downtown reminded me so much of towns I’d spent time in years ago, though I can’t pin the tail on one exact town. It had elements of New Vienna and Wilmington, with a little Grandview thrown in for good measure. The downtown itself was very short, maybe a couple hundred yards long, with small stores in each side. The road then slowly transformed itself into a beautiful neighborhood lined with houses probably built in the 1920’s, with huge front porches and large trees. The neighborhood then faded gently into open farms. My impression of a neighborhood is often strongly influenced by the weather at the time of my visit. Well, this time the weather looked ominous, and I still thought the city looked charming. I can’t wait to visit sometime in the sunshine.

After driving around the quaint neighborhood a bit longer, I finally found the road I was looking for. I quickly came across the house where I was supposed to pick up the bassinet, but no one was home. I had been told that could be the case, but that the bassinet would be left outside. I was reluctant to get out of the truck, however. There were “No Trespassing” signs all over the place, a large (but friendly looking) dog was tied to the side of the house, pickup trucks in varying states of disrepair littered the driveway, and the back yard contained at least a couple of chickens. I finally did get out of the truck but couldn’t find the bassinet. Thinking I would call Jen, I stopped at a nearby gas station and filled up my truck while I was there. This is where the third wave of nostalgia took place.

I had just filled up my gas tank and was about the check my oil when I noticed there were no paper towels in the dispenser at my pump. I checked the other pumps and, sure enough, they were out too. As I walked toward the office to request a paper towel, the manager met me just outside the door with a paper towel. “I saw you looking,” he said. Whoosh. I was transported to Tennessee. It’s not often that I meet a stranger in Ohio who would be that considerate, but it happens all the time when my wife and I visit Gatlinburg. It’s the one area of the country I might rather live than Ohio.

Having been unsuccessful at getting a hold of Jen, I headed home. I drove through more neighborhoods that just seemed so desirable to me. They were only minutes from Stringtown Road, a mecca of businesses, but yet were literally in the middle of farm country, most having corn fields in their back yards. It was starting to get dark now, so I got back on the highway and then jumped over to 270, not quite ready to head back home at full speed. The route took me an extra 20 minutes, I figure, but took me through yet more areas of town that I rarely visit. I noticed several rivers that I’d never seen before, making the detour worth it.

As I approached Gahanna, I remembered that I was supposed to pick up a gallon of milk on my way home, which brings me to my fourth and final nostalgic moment. I decided that I’d swing through My Bear, a former Big Bear store in Gahanna referred to as “Ghetto Bear” by friends who live nearby. I always though it looked interesting though, and since it was the closest grocery store at that point, I took a chance. Turns out it was worth it. As I entered the store, it immediately struck me how very much the store looked like Uhl’s IGA circa 1989, the year I worked there. The layout was different, but there was some intangible link to that era. To further the illusion, the in-store radio station was playing The Power of Love, a song made popular by the blockbuster movie Back to the Future. Interestingly, I drove to the store in a Toyota pickup strikingly similar to Marty McFly’s dream truck. I left with the gallon of milk and grinned all the way home.

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