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| Historic Olde Springboro |
As I write this, I am looking out my office window, which overlooks Main Street in Springboro. I can’t help but wonder. How much of my life has been spent on this stretch of road?
I remember 1968, when I was a third grader at Jonathan Wright Elementary. One day my friends and I went uptown for some baseball cards (we walked everywhere in those days). The town was small then, with very little traffic. Still, I knew to stay away from the street, and I swear did so. But my mom heard differently and I was grounded until a Monday just about a year ago. If I ever find the person who ratted me out, I swear...
I remember 1973, when I was a seventh grade basketball player who worshiped the Panther varsity. Everybody in town would go to the games. The teams were the topic of every conversation. I remember walking up Main Street one night after another Panther basketball win, thinking the limelight would one day be on me. I’d be a star. And then I'd go on to bigger and better sports heroics. Main Street was the place where dreams were created. It never occurred to me I’d one day be a lawyer.
I remember 1978, when I worked at Springboro IGA as a high school senior. It was the year of the big blizzard. It was also the year the girls basketball team won 24 straight before losing in the state finals. When you work at the town grocery store, you hear everything. Homer Preston, the owner of the IGA, was the town’s unofficial mayor. I became proficient at hiding out in the bottle room so I didn’t have to mop the floor.
Such is life on Main Street. The place to be.
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| The K & W, 1965 |
I remember 1985, when I was sports editor of The Star Free Press while also going to law school. The office was on Main Street, just down the street from what was then the high school. I covered the football season opener when Brad Lamb – who later played for the Buffalo Bills -- ran over, around and through a good Carlisle team. It was a fun night. It made for great copy. The cozy confines made Ralph E. Wade Field the greatest football field ever.
I remember 1992, when Kim and I got married at St. Francis Episcopal Church, where we attended at the time. We exchanged vows in front of our families and our best friends, and later we threw one of the biggest parties the world has ever seen. Since then there’s been more better than worse, more richer than poorer and less sickness than health. It’s been an awesome ride, baby. Thanks for making me a very lucky man.
I remember 1996, when construction of our law office on Main Street was recently finished. I took my stepson Adam to one of his first football practices just up the road. He was given shoulder pads, football pants and a helmet. He was so proud to be a Panther that he wouldn’t take off the helmet. Ever. Not even as we drove home. We told later to at least take it off when he showered. Adam said he’d think about it.
Main Street. Where memories are made.
I remember 2003, when we took our daughter Chloe and her friends to Christmas in Springboro. I love this festival because Main Street is closed off and everyone roams downtown, free to enjoy the history and ambiance of Olde Springboro. Four times that weekend, Chloe asked for some spending money. Four times, she and her friends bought a funnel cake, hardly a nutritious dietary staple. And so for four weeks, Chloe had a sugar buzz. And the dental bill was outrageous.
I remember 2008, when my dad left the office one afternoon to renew his driver’s license. The cancer made him weak, but he was determined to live life the best he could. I spoke to him briefly in the doorway as he left, and I joked about how he'd better shape up and get back to working steadily. He chuckled, though it hurt to do so. But he never walked through that door again. If my brother Joe and I ever dreamed of selling this office building, that notion is quickly shot down. Dad’s fingerprints are all over this office. He’s still here.
And I remember a moment earlier this year, when I dropped my daughter off at ‘The K’, where she works part-time. If there was ever a Springboro institution, the K is it. I turned off the car and got out, deciding I really needed some ice cream, despite my doctor’s feeling to the contrary. For a moment, I was a kid again, ordering the same stuff from the same place I did when I was 12. Life was good. Everything seemed so familiar.
The reality is altogether different, though. The reality is that so much is different.
I’m older, with more responsibility. The town is busier, with more traffic and commerce and people. Life keeps changing.
But Main Street is still there. It’s a stretch of roadway that means so much more than asphalt and white lines. It represents my past. And it’ll bring my future. It’s the window to my soul.
By Jeff Kirby