Margaret, daughter of William Denver and Bertha Myers
The Rollover of the Silver and White 1957 Chevy
The idea here was to slip away from the after-school baseball game at Kenton, to go over to see a high school baseball game being played at the same time in Sabina.
Why?
Probably because the wanna-be boyfriend was playing in Sabina.
Whose original bad idea was this? I don't know. But I thought it was a really good one.
Did I know Bobby Channel was incapable of taking that curve on 729?
No.
Did I know we were going to tumble around in the backseat with no seat belts, rolling over in the field, while we destroyed what was to become arguably the most important, iconic, venerated model of car in American history?
No.
Did I tell anyone, i.e., WD, that I was leaving to go to Sabina?
No.
We intended to be back before the end of the Kenton game and my absence would not even be noticed.
So was this a really bad idea?
Yes.
WD and Mother made that clear.
Luckily, the top of the car did not completely pancake, and we were able to crawl out of the car. I wasn't really hurt.
The newspaper article dramatized the whole thing as "near tragedy." I guess it could have been far worse.
But it couldn't have been that big of a deal. Mother did the crossword puzzle on the back of this original clipping.
The idea here was to slip away from the after-school baseball game at Kenton, to go over to see a high school baseball game being played at the same time in Sabina.
Why?
Probably because the wanna-be boyfriend was playing in Sabina.
Whose original bad idea was this? I don't know. But I thought it was a really good one.
Did I know Bobby Channel was incapable of taking that curve on 729?
No.
Did I know we were going to tumble around in the backseat with no seat belts, rolling over in the field, while we destroyed what was to become arguably the most important, iconic, venerated model of car in American history?
No.
Did I tell anyone, i.e., WD, that I was leaving to go to Sabina?
No.
We intended to be back before the end of the Kenton game and my absence would not even be noticed.
So was this a really bad idea?
Yes.
WD and Mother made that clear.
Luckily, the top of the car did not completely pancake, and we were able to crawl out of the car. I wasn't really hurt.
The newspaper article dramatized the whole thing as "near tragedy." I guess it could have been far worse.
But it couldn't have been that big of a deal. Mother did the crossword puzzle on the back of this original clipping.
University School Summer 1960
It seems you seldom know at the time which experiences are going to be the biggest influences that change your life. One of the biggest unexpected influences for me occurred in the summer of 1960.
Dad was enrolled in a summer program at OSU. So therefore Mother was enrolled in some classes. And John, newly graduated from High School, was enrolled in freshman classes. And as for me--they got me into the summer session at University School, an elementary through high school teaching laboratory of the OSU College of Education. I was 13.
So off we went for the summer to Ohio State. We somehow got to stay (in a house-sitting role) in the big stone sorority house on Indianola. The house sat at the end of an entire street lined on both sides with grand fraternity and sorority houses. We had the entire 12,000 square foot Alpha Gamma Delta sorority house to ourselves in what seemed a strange, wonderful luxury.
The University School was in a beautiful old brick building at the corner of High and Woodruff, on the edge of the sprawling OSU campus. I got to walk by myself down the long row of Greek houses and then along High Street everyday to school. And after school, I would walk anywhere I wanted on the campus or in the bookstore. The freedom was intoxicating.
But University School itself was a sobering reality check. I learned very quickly that the students around me at University School that summer were smarter, more accomplished, more ambitious, more articulate, more interesting, and much harder working than I was. I was embarrassingly under-qualified. I tried to catch up just to fit in. We studied art, science, writing, public speaking, social studies. For the first time I participated in debate. All of it was at a higher level of expectation than I was used to. It was dizzying, intense, humbling, and exciting all at the same time.
This combination of feeling inferior to academic competition, plus the freedom to roam around Ohio State like a college student, launched my impatient ambition to go to college. By the time I was old enough to get into a real college class (at newly opened Wright State, during my senior year of high school), I had started an addiction to academic experiences that would result in getting to study at a great list of schools. I went to Ohio State for freshman year in the Fall of 1965. Then I transferred to Ohio University at Athens for the next 3 years and got my degree. Then I got scholarships and fellowships that took me to Oxford University, Washington University, Cornell, Brandeis, and ultimately Stanford. For a while I was as addicted to consuming college as some people are addicted to shopping.
I don't think any of that set of magical opportunities would have come to me without that summer of feeling stupid at University School. I don't think I would have worked so hard at academic success for years after that had I not seen Dad, Mother, and John all doing the same thing at the same time in that wonderful big stone house in the summer of 1960. Sometimes you don't understand or even recognize the impact of your big experiences until they are over. In every possible way, University School was that big, humbling experience. I was lucky to have it.
University School closed in 1967, and the building has been repurposed for other functions at OSU. That seems proof that big experiences can be fleeting and without physical permanence. The way they last is in how they change you. And how you pay them forward.
Dad was enrolled in a summer program at OSU. So therefore Mother was enrolled in some classes. And John, newly graduated from High School, was enrolled in freshman classes. And as for me--they got me into the summer session at University School, an elementary through high school teaching laboratory of the OSU College of Education. I was 13.
So off we went for the summer to Ohio State. We somehow got to stay (in a house-sitting role) in the big stone sorority house on Indianola. The house sat at the end of an entire street lined on both sides with grand fraternity and sorority houses. We had the entire 12,000 square foot Alpha Gamma Delta sorority house to ourselves in what seemed a strange, wonderful luxury.
The University School was in a beautiful old brick building at the corner of High and Woodruff, on the edge of the sprawling OSU campus. I got to walk by myself down the long row of Greek houses and then along High Street everyday to school. And after school, I would walk anywhere I wanted on the campus or in the bookstore. The freedom was intoxicating.
But University School itself was a sobering reality check. I learned very quickly that the students around me at University School that summer were smarter, more accomplished, more ambitious, more articulate, more interesting, and much harder working than I was. I was embarrassingly under-qualified. I tried to catch up just to fit in. We studied art, science, writing, public speaking, social studies. For the first time I participated in debate. All of it was at a higher level of expectation than I was used to. It was dizzying, intense, humbling, and exciting all at the same time.
This combination of feeling inferior to academic competition, plus the freedom to roam around Ohio State like a college student, launched my impatient ambition to go to college. By the time I was old enough to get into a real college class (at newly opened Wright State, during my senior year of high school), I had started an addiction to academic experiences that would result in getting to study at a great list of schools. I went to Ohio State for freshman year in the Fall of 1965. Then I transferred to Ohio University at Athens for the next 3 years and got my degree. Then I got scholarships and fellowships that took me to Oxford University, Washington University, Cornell, Brandeis, and ultimately Stanford. For a while I was as addicted to consuming college as some people are addicted to shopping.
I don't think any of that set of magical opportunities would have come to me without that summer of feeling stupid at University School. I don't think I would have worked so hard at academic success for years after that had I not seen Dad, Mother, and John all doing the same thing at the same time in that wonderful big stone house in the summer of 1960. Sometimes you don't understand or even recognize the impact of your big experiences until they are over. In every possible way, University School was that big, humbling experience. I was lucky to have it.
University School closed in 1967, and the building has been repurposed for other functions at OSU. That seems proof that big experiences can be fleeting and without physical permanence. The way they last is in how they change you. And how you pay them forward.
Grown-up New Years Eve Party that I was allowed to attend at David and Marilyn’s. Approximately 1963.
Very gown up party, so I was more than cool.
Dancing the twist with abandon one minute and in a heap on the floor the next.
Dislocated knee cap.
'Sympathy' Poem from Philip:
My sister
Was a twister
She did twist and twust
As hard as she must
Until knee goes bust.
My sister—it pissed her
To bust her twister!
Very gown up party, so I was more than cool.
Dancing the twist with abandon one minute and in a heap on the floor the next.
Dislocated knee cap.
'Sympathy' Poem from Philip:
My sister
Was a twister
She did twist and twust
As hard as she must
Until knee goes bust.
My sister—it pissed her
To bust her twister!
Danny Joe and Margaret as the Chieftain and the Cowgirl--Christmas afternoon 1958 at Marcella's house. This snapshot was taken with a brand-new-at-the-time Polaroid camera, possibly by Uncle Ralph.
It was always fun to hang out with Danny Joe. And if we were at his mom's house, you could also hope for some of her great orange cake on special occasions. A short walk away was also Aunt Marie's house, and we spent fun time there, too.
Margaret and her neighbor friend, Karen Cory, with their new dolls during Christmas 1952. Mine was the prized "walking doll" for which Grandma Alice hand-made beautiful doll clothes.
This snapshot is in the living room of the Morris Place. The Christmas tree was repurposed from the school once the Christmas break began. The most important part of decorating the tree was how the icicles were carefully hung.
Hawaii Condo Photos