A Return To Briar Hill

Back when I was a young(er) lad, I made several trips from my home in Akron, Ohio to a hunting and fishing club called Briar Hill Hunting & Fishing Club. The club was a two-story house on Piedmont Lake about 90 miles down I-77 South in Piedmont, Ohio. I remember going there with my family, with my little league team and on a “men’s weekend” with my dad and brother in the early and mid 1970s. In my memories, it seemed like we drove for days to get there, and the lake was as big as an ocean. We wove through the “mountains” of Ohio, through all the curvy roads and small towns, and through the heavily wooded area on gravel roads. I would bet a large amount that I wore dad out with the “are we there yet?” questions. His usual response was “almost there” or “15 minutes”. Apparently, 15 minutes used to be longer back then.

I have fond memories of this modest house in the hills. Honestly, in my mind’s eye it was my Camelot as a kid. It was a big adventure for a little guy since we didn’t typically travel too far from the Stevenson Avenue castle because there never seemed to be a point to do so. Everything in the world rotated around our little community in Akron and we had everything that we would ever need (or at least that’s what I thought!).

The house had an older gentleman who lived on site who was the caretaker. I had no idea what that was but he seemed like a cool old fella, but he made sure all of us teen spastics obeyed the rules. The house had four bunk house rooms on the second floor. Getting a top bunk was a major priority for me back then (eh, not so much now…). It had a fireplace on the first floor in the gathering room and a small kitchen with appliances that seemed past their prime to me but the bacon sure smelled good in the morning. The coup de grace was the outhouse in the side yard. We “city boys” had never had that experience before! That’s when the words “hold it” first came into my daily vocabulary.

We took this serpentine “road” down to the lake. Oh man, it was majestic. This massive lake and it was all ours! We had a dock and access to row boats and the green light to use them. One of the cooler things of being a child of the 60s and 70s is the freedom and autonomy to go and play and to explore and get into trouble. I’m not sure if it was lazy parenting or trust but either way it was a ton of fun.

The club had a garage and storage building that the owners had retrofitted with some bunks in the attic. I stayed there on a few trips when I had graduated up to being one the “older” kids. I’m sure I didn’t hold it over my brother’s head for a single second! One other cool thing was an abandoned hay barn that we could hike to and explore. Disney had nothing on us my friends. That was flat out awesome.

We would fish on the dock and if they weren’t biting, we would just jump in the lake and start swimming. We rode bikes, played hide-and-seek, had campfires and smores, cleaned fish, learned to shoot guns, ate like kings, hung out, stayed up late, night fished, sat on the porch and watched it rain, pooped in an outhouse, drove the parents crazy, and a boat load of other things. The days seemed to last forever. I remember being so sad when we had to head back to “civilization”.

My story today will focus on a return trip I made to Briar Hill in 2023.

But First…A Joke

An elderly gentleman went in for his annual physical exam. “You’re in incredible shape,” the doctor said. “How old are you again” “I’m 78,” the man replied. “How do you stay so healthy? You look like a 60-year old.”

“Well, my wife and I made a pact when we got married that whenever she got mad, she would go into the kitchen and cool off, and I would go outside to settle down.” “What does that have to do with it?” asked the doctor. The main sighed. “I’ve pretty much lived an outdoor life.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds - Psalm 147:3

Have I Told You This One?

This past summer I made several trips back to the homeland from my current home in the suburbs of Atlanta. I moved away almost 40 years ago now when I was 24 years old to find fame and fortune with my recently earned business and computer degrees. One of the trips was for my 45th high school reunion and the others were to visit my brother who is having some major health issues. I am fortunate to have recently retired so I could spend more time than usual on these visits. The trips back start a flood of memories and this time I planned on doing some exploring around my hometown and catch up with some old friends and family I had not seen for a while.

During one of my visits with my brother the conversation focused on the vacations we went on as a family back in the day. We tried and tried to remember the name of the hunting and fishing club we went to in the summer of the 70s. Neither one of us could remember the name of the lake or the club. Fifty years has a way of pushing those details farther back in the grey matter. That night, I couldn’t let it go and I researched and also tracked down some old family members that used to go there with us and I figured out that it was Briar Hill Hunting and Fishing Club (or so I thought/hoped). That seemed right but I was not 100% sure. I decided I was going to punch it into the phone GPS and take a shot the next day. What’s the worst that could happen?

So, down I-77 I go. I hoped to find it but thought the odds of doing so were less than 50% but who knows. An hour or so later I made a left turn on this old gravel road in a highly wooded area. This seemed promising. I started to get concerned that maybe it wasn’t there anymore or that it had changed so much that I would not recognize it. I struggled as I thought “Has it really been 50 years? 50?”, Is that possible? Where did THAT time go?

As I made my way down the country road the GPS started getting down to less than a mile. I had not seen anything for quite some time and was beginning to give up hope but as I made the final turn, there it was! I recognized it immediately. Time had somehow stopped, and I was 14 again! As I pulled into the parking lot I was ambushed by a tsunami of warm memories. Many of the people I was here with 50 years ago are gone and I fought back the lump in my throat that was choking me out. There was a family of deer checking me out and the grass needed mowed but hot damn, it was still here.

I got out of the car and walked up to the house, and it was locked, I knocked anyway hoping the current caretaker might be there. No luck, but that was okay. I peeked into the doors and windows, and I swear to you, NOTHING had changed in 50 years, Not One Thing. How great is that!? I walked to the garage/attic bunk house and looked in the window. Perfect! Even the old sign in front was the same.

I walked down the now overgrown path to the lake and filmed the walk with my phone camera for my brother to see when I got back. It’s silly, but my eyes suddenly were filled with “dust” and were leaking pretty bad. When I came around the final turn, the lake jumped out at me! I’ve seen some things over the last 50 years since my last visit and it wasn’t as big as I remembered but still beautiful! The dock was half as wide and not quite as long but I swear I could hear the voices and laughter of a bunch of boys fishing and swimming. The channel I fished and caught the biggest catfish in the lake was still visible (that fish gets bigger every time I tell the story). I was alone, which was great because I’m sure no one knew who I was.

I walked back up to the house and sat on the front porch and remembered the weekend I spent with my brother and dad in the winter. Dad thought we needed some “guy” time, and we spent a cold weekend doing some bonding. Didn’t know it at the time but now that he is gone it was certainly a precious memory of the big guy.

As I walked around I did see a sign that said trespassers would be shot so I thought it was probably a good time to go. The trip was so worth it. Being a parent, sometimes we want to give our kids the biggest and best when the simple will do and is more impactful. Thanks dad and mom for helping me enjoy the simple things and the quiet things. Life sometimes gets complicated and loud after you “grow up”.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You for speaking healing words over me. Use my words to bring healing and hope to hurting hearts.

Book Recommendation:

The Prodigal God - Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith by Timothy Keller (2008)

Music Recommendation:

Let It Bleed by The Rolling Stones (1969)