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About once or twice a year I take a trip down a road of memories. 

I had actually started writing this column a while back, but since I never sent it to The Sun, I decided to do so this week.

Follow with me as I take you down some roads I have traveled countless times in my life.   

Turn with me now from the end of North Main Street in Winchester and travel down Highway 15.

About two or three miles out, I will pass Clark Rural Electric, where I went to my first Clark County Homemaker meeting at the Kiddville Homemakers. 

I was 21 years old, and my baby daughter, Kim, went with me until her sister, Shanda, was born and she too, became a homemaker. 

You can say I took to Homemakers, and 51 years later, I am still a member. I would later organize the Towne and Country Homemaker group with 12 people I didn’t even know.

Clark R.E.C.C. has other memories for me. I watched as my daughter, Kim, won Miss Clark Rural Electric and won a trip to Washington D.C.

I also remember winning a signed print by Nellie Meadows of “Let There Be Light!”

It took some work, but I wanted that print. I had to check my meter box every day for 30 days and tell you ways you could save electricity in your daily life. I was so excited when I found out I had won.

Now, we will pass by the fairgrounds, but the fair grounds were not always there with the nice facilities we have now. It was such a good improvement to have what we referred to as the “new fairgrounds.”

After I passed by the fairgrounds, I passed the Pilot View Elementary School, where I, my four siblings and our four kids went to school. 

I went eight grades there and thought I was so grown up as I wobbled on stage in three-inch heels to get my graduation diploma in the eighth grade. 

Later I would be a room mother each year my daughters were in school and I would be involved in and hold offices in PTA there. I will never forget my teachers or my kids’ teachers or my classmates.

At that school I would watch as my two daughters won all school spelling bees year after year they were there and five time winners in our county.

On down the road I see the Pilot View Grocery and smile as I would have never dreamed that our son, Keith, and his wife, Julie, would be the proprietors of the store and their delicious cooking skills. My mouth waters as I passed by thinking of homemade pies inside, knowing I have to go on down the road.

I make the curve and see where the first Pilot View school used to stand, and close to it, where my Latin teacher, Jane Smith, lived until a few years ago. Around the bend I see the old Holmberg house where my girls got off the bus to take piano lessons after school and I would pick them up. It is still a very pretty old home.

I can almost see old Pas Combs sitting in a straight back chair as I pass by where his little red store once sat. I never went inside because it always looked like it was a man’s place to me.

Then I made my way on around to Swope Hill that now is Graham territory. I always thought it was such a beautiful view coming into town looking over that valley. 

When I passed that house I thought of the last time I went to a home viewing of the dead. It was in that house and was the last time I knew of anyone sitting up with the deceased all night so the family could get some rest before the funeral. Neighbors were happy to help out in any way and dig the grave.

Then I came to the straight stretch of the road that was called Goff’s Corner. 

I used to be able to look and see my house in Kiddville from there at one time. 

I come down to the place where the old Patrick grocery once stood. It was there I remember double loaves of bread. It was Kerns in a red package. 

A little farther down was Creech’s garage shaped like an igloo. I will never forget the first time I saw it as a little girl. I still think the first time people see it today they would find it odd. Though I have not seen it, I have heard a Dollar General Store is out in the area now. There used to be a very old grocery store next to Creech’s.

All I can say is, I would have loved it being there when I lived at Kiddville.

I make the turn left towards Indian Fields and pass by where the Mountain Parkway has a connection. 

The Verne Orndorff sign makes me smile. He was such a good man. 

I cannot help but think of all the walks from Kiddville to watch how much they got done each week when they were building the Mountain Parkway and the bridge that crossed over. I know the occupants of every house or did at one time on this road. They are all like family to me.

Next, I passed Kenneth and Iona Hisle’s place, where I took my girls swimming. Shanda and their daughter were good friends. Many happy times were spent with them and I took my first trip to New Orleans with them.

I passed the Oil Springs Road that was so close to my home down the lane but I had to go about four miles to get to the lane. The Girl Scouts enter my mind and I remember how I could hear them in the summer when I would go outside at my home.

Now, as I top the hill and start down another straight stretch, I pass by the field where my mobile home stood when my babies came home from the hospital and then the new house we built across the road where they lived until teenagers. 

I have mixed emotions as I pass by there. I could write three stories here but time will not allow it. 

I pass on by the house where I lived when my parents moved from down the lane when I was 14 years old. It was there where I lived when I married my first husband who lived directly across from me. It was that house where my husband now would come to a party and I would first remember him as a cute, young boy.

I go past where the old, red Kiddville store once stood that was the meeting place,

grocery store, center for learning about any sickness or deaths in the community. You could meet and be invited to church there. The little kids learned to love Emma Lou and Paul Hisle or any owner of the store. Even my husband would own that store for only a short while.

I pass the church, and oh, how the memories flood my heart and mind. 

I love that church and what it means to me with every fiber of my being. The tears rolled when I learned a few weeks back that it is now up for sale. It used to be the most loving place for people to go to church there. 

I would never in my lifetime have dreamed it no longer had services there. So many people like myself are reminded of accepting Christ as their Savior. I have written about some of the people who have influenced my life there. 

I go on by and pass by where the old Jefferson log home was. I passed the lot where, at one time, stood the old Kiddville school where my daddy went to school.

I pass where the parsonage was, and I remember babysitting the preacher’s kids. The different preacher families run through my mind and I smile once more. Two of them would spend summers with me every year no matter where their dad preached.

I also remember taking one of the preacher’s wives to homemaker camp with me and she ended up having a baby that night. The ride from Carlisle to Lexington was an exciting one.

I passed the tollgate house where people used to stop and pay 15 cents to use the road.

If I go straight, I will be in Montgomery County. 

If I turn right, I will pass where the Bush Turkey farm was. 

I passed over a new bridge that replaced the old iron bridge I walked across as a child. 

After I pass the bridge, I am at the end of the lane where I grew up. 

I see where our mailbox sat in Montgomery County, but our house was in Clark County. 

The friend who has ridden with me now knows where my column called Down the Lane took root. She tells me she has enjoyed the trip.

This drive is about 25 minutes from Winchester, unless you rode a school bus from Winchester and it took an hour from the time we left the school. A long ride.

Thank you for going down this road of memories with me.

 

Sue Staton is a Clark County native. She is a wife, mother and grandmother.