Growing Up In Greenhills - Week One

When I was in the fourth grade, my family moved to Greenhills, Ohio. It was a “greenbelt” community built in the 1930s as a part of the Greenbelt project of Roosevelt’s New Deal plan for recovery from the Great Depression. Three of these communities were built. My “Greenhills” built in the rolling forested green hills of Northern Cincinnati was also considered a greenbelt community because it had forests, creeks, lakes, and ponds that surrounded the whole community. They designed the community to be a village nestled in the middle of 2500 acres of woodlands. Greenhills was a boy’s paradise. My paradise!

We moved to Greenhills in May 1964, not exactly the best time to change schools, but for a boy who wanted to spend the summer exploring the woods, it was perfect. I can remember looking out the windows of Beechwoods Elementary School just wishing school was over. The school was literally at the edge of the forest which was, yeah you guessed it, a woods full of Beech trees! I would stand on the playground during recess and just stare at the woods.

The green belt of forests that surrounded the village was called Winston Woods Park and it had Winton Lake. Winton Lake was built in the 1930s for flood control in Cincinnati. It may have been for flood control but for me, it was a place for fishing, swimming, building rafts, and ice skating. It was a place of adventure.

“Hey, what’s your name?” My daydreaming about exploring the woods was interrupted by a tall, goofy-looking boy in bib overalls. “Me? My name is Doug. What’s yours?” He was in the other fourth-grade class that’s why we didn’t know each other. “Doogie, I think you look more like a Doogie than a Doug.” said the boy. “That’s what I am going to call you - Doogie.” “Don’t expect I have any say in this, do I?” “Nope! That’s what I am going to call you - Doogie.” Well, I thought to myself it is a whole lot better than Dougie, that’s what my granny and aunts call me - little Dougie! Yuck! I just hate that they still call me Dougie and I am almost 11! Heck, I am almost a Boy Scout. Little did I know that the nickname Doogie would stay with me through High School. The boy who gave me the nickname was Zachary Taylor or as we called him - ZT.

ZT lived right next to the school and his home backed up to the park. He and I were going to become best friends through grade six. Wherever he went I went and whatever he did I did. That summer of 1964 was going to be a great adventure with ZT. I even wanted to dress like him! When I asked my mom for a pair of bib overalls I thought she was going to pass out. “What do want those for Dougie?” Oh yeah, she called me Dougie also. She wouldn’t buy me bib overalls. Said something about she didn’t want me looking like a hillbilly hick. Just so you know I had me a pair before July came around. Seems I was a “hard boy on clothes.”

Each week in the “Waiting on God BLOG”, I will introduce you to one or more of the adventures and sometimes misadventures of a young boy growing up in Greenhills. The town is real, but much of the storyline is fictional and so are the characters. These stories are from the “memories” of a boy named Doug who may or may not bear an uncanny resemblance to me, the author. Some of the stories are true, and some were born in my rather overactive imagination. I hope when all is done you will have loved the stories of a boy named Doug growing up in the village of Greenhills.