Deafening Silence

         The sound of silence was deafening. There was no laughter or students talking which added to the realization that nothing was normal in this situation.

         As I entered my room, I took notice of my name plate outside my room. I hadn’t seen that name plate for two months. My room was just how I left it on March 17^th with the chairs around the table as though I was going to sit down and teach a lesson to three students. The words “The author talks about folktales, myths, and legends,” were still written with black ink on the white board. I could still see the date of March 12^th at the top of the board.

         March 12^th, the day the world stopped at least for me as an educator. It was the 5-month anniversary of my mom’s death and the first time I had worked on the date of the 12^th since September. That week in March had a full moon and a Friday the 13^th. All teachers were dreading that week. I was just dreading the 12^th. You see I’m a dates person. Dates loom over me like a balloon following the one holding the string.

         Dismissal duty came and I was told, “Governor DeWine is closing the schools for 3 weeks.”

         “Cool, a 3-week Spring Break,” was my initial thought.

         Then the dreaded staff meeting after work caused my mind to switch from cool to worry because I didn’t know if I was going to be coming back to school for the remainder of the year.

         Now 2 months later, I had only stepped in the building twice since the shut-down. I was here to close up shop for the year. Luckily, I had sense to clean up and put away all of my belongings on my last day. So, my mission was to get my paperwork in order and to find my staff handbook. I was closing up the year once again in unusual circumstances for last year we had the tornadoes. Then I had to close up my room in the dark.

         The silence was deafening while I worked today because my room was missing one important detail that I couldn’t bring in. My room was missing my students who bring life to the room.

A Year Later

         The air was completely still as we walked around the backyard.

         We laughed as I commented, “We are walking around during a tornado warning.”

         A few minutes later, we went back in the house to get ready for bed thinking nothing about those tornado warnings because tornadoes were rare around here. As I laid in bed, my mind wouldn’t shut down, so I scrolled through Facebook. All of the sudden, I saw the words, “Tornado has hit Trotwood.”

         As quick as I could, I jumped out of my bed and screamed, “It’s real,” as tears rolled down my face.

         “Everyone to the bathroom,” I yelled!

         Our bathroom is a tiny room. Imagine trying to fit 4 people and a dog into what is basically a walk-in closet sized room. Will and I took the floor. Hubby sat on the toilet. Nick had just finished his bath, so he put on his bathing suit and sat in the water that hadn’t drained.

         The perfect Memorial Day was now a nightmare. The blue skies were replaced with an angry black monster. The pinging of the hail began hitting our house like millions of basketballs being hit against the wall. My back was against the bathroom door and felt all the vibrations of our house being struck repeatedly by the baseball sized hail.

         My phone kept beeping. Every time we thought we were in the clear, the tornado sighted alarm went off. People kept texting me to make sure our family was safe. Nick was on the phone with his now ex-girlfriend trying to console her. It was the most surreal moment in my life.

         Two hours after seeing “Tornado has hit Trotwood,” we were free to go to bed. We were fortunate because our house had been spared. I praised God for his protection over us.

         Sleep was not possible that night. Worry hung over me. At 3 o’clock in the morning, I walked around my backyard. The air was completely still.

         It was not until daylight would anyone know the true amount of destruction that had occurred on that night where the landscape of the area I know was drastically changed.

         That night taught me two lessons: never say never and the value of community. We never thought a tornado would occur in our city. And the amount of support we got from strangers was amazing. Even people who lost it all were out helping their neighbors.

         Now a year later, I will always remember the stillness of the night before the angry monster tore through our city.

         

Exploring Dayton, Ohio - A small portion of the Historic South Park and Ghostlight Coffee

Another area of Dayton, we have explored was the Historic South Park part of Dayton. In reality, I explored it and Hubby sat in the car. He told me it was too cold to walk around but it really was not.

I’ve been in the Historic South Park many times because it’s where one of my favorite coffee shops is located. However, it was not until the pandemic that I explored a small portion of it.

As I was trying to find information about this area of Dayton, Ohio, I found out actor Martin Sheen was born in this part of Dayton. His dad had moved to the Gem City to work at NCR which was located close to where this neighborhood.

At one time, the area was called Slidertown. It was a shanty town with the boys who lived there causing damage to the NCR buildings. John Patterson, the founder of NCR, decided to give something for the boys to do instead of causing havoc. He had them start community gardens which began the South Park becoming a beautiful area of Dayton.

In 1984, the South Park was named a Historic area by the National Registry of Historic Places.

An interesting part of the history is the murder story that happened in 1867. Christine Kett, a teenage daughter of German immigrants, was brutally murdered by an ax. No one knew who had committed the murder until 17 years later when her mom confessed, she had done the unthinkable. As she was lying on her death bed, she asked he son never to tell anyone that it was actually her. He waited a few days until he let the authorities know what had happened to his sister.

Since I only walked one of the 24 blocks of the neighborhood, the likelihood of me actually walking by the area where it occurred was small. Guess what, I walked by it and think it was the plot next to where I took the photo of the cat. 

Now onto the photos:

HE was with me

         The salty air surrounded me. My eyes drank in the oranges and red of the sunrise. A calming rhythmic sound of the waves crashing into the surf filled my ears. Soft sand tickled my toes.

         Every morning of that vacation, I would take a solo hour-long beach walk at the crack of dawn to drink in the sights, be with God, and take photos. As I stood in the surf taking a video of the sunrise and waves, I suddenly felt a hand touch me on my shoulder. When I looked around, there was no one there.

         It was one of those should of – could of moments in life. I should have yelled, “Yes, God. What do you need?” I could have gotten down on my knee in that damp sand and prayed to him. Except I did neither because I didn’t realize the significance of the moment until it had passed.

         You see 10 months prior to that moment I had lost my sister suddenly and tragically. I struggled to breath in the months to follow after her death. It was during that mourning period I had felt as though God had forsaken and forgotten me. Why had he taken my only sibling to be with him? I often asked myself that question.

         On that barrier island, I was compelled to go to a special church the Sunday prior to feeling God on that lonely beach. During the service, the pastor pulled out a guitar and began to belt out “Who am I” by the Casting Crowns. That song had become my theme song on those solo walks on the beach. I downloaded the song and played it on repeat.

         God wanted me to know that “I am Yours.” He had not forsaken or forgotten me after Tanya had died. He needed me to go through those trials and feelings of lost, so that I could find myself on that beach alone. It was then he would make his presence known to me.

         I wasn’t really alone on that beach. I had a companion – God. He was with me the whole time.

Joshua 1:9 Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.

Blessings,

Traci

Exploring Dayton, Ohio - The Oregon Historic District

Last August, the Oregon District made national headlines when a mass shooting occurred. Dave Chappelle then brought people together in a HUGE concert a few weeks after the shooting. Big names such as Kanye West and Stevie Wonder traveled to Dayton to give us support and comfort during our time of mourning.

However, the Oregon District should not be known only for the shooting. That’s only a small part of its history.

No one knows why it’s called the Oregon. It’s been the name of that area since prior to Dayton to becoming an official city. During the time after the Civil War, prominent businessmen of the Dayton area-built houses in the neighborhood that surrounds Fifth Street. During the Great Flood of 1913, the Oregon was covered in 10 feet of water which caused people to leave the area.

It was not until the 1960s when they decided to revitalize the area. Some of the buildings were razed at that time while others were preserved. In 1974, it was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1974.

I’ve been down to the Oregon Historic District several times especially when people have visited me. However, most of the time I just drive through the area while enjoying the architecture but do not stop. Since we are on quarantine and stay at home orders, Hubby and I are trying to find places to walk and visit within the Dayton area.

Last weekend, I encouraged Hubby to stop in the Oregon because he at first made a half-heartened attempt to find a parking spot during our first drive through the area. Boy was he glad we made the stop. We walked through some of the historic housing neighborhood and through the District. While walking around, we found a new restaurant that was open for carry out. We ordered food to take to our next stop so we could have a picnic.

Before I share the photos from this area, I should let you know that the big heart with the words Dayton Strong is where the shooting occurred last August. As I took the photos, I bowed my head and prayed for the lost souls. It was a surreal moment. There was a photo of some kid underneath the heart. The photo was a studio photo taken long ago. I don't know if it was one of the victims or some random photo. I didn't take a photo of the picture out of respect to the those lost souls.

Here are the photos from the Oregon District and the historical neighborhood.

Please explore your area safely - practice social distancing and proper personal hygiene. You'll never know what you'll find.

Have a magical day,
Traci