Life on Riverside Avenue
After our time on Terrawanda Street, we moved to 607 Riverside Avenue in Defiance. We rented the house during the time I was in second and third grade—around ages seven and eight. It was a good fit for our family of five. With three bedrooms, the boys shared one, while Jeni and I shared the other.
Behind the house ran the Auglaize River, which quickly became a source of worry for my parents. Kenny and Jeff were constantly getting in trouble for sneaking down to the river. Kenny was six, and Jeff just one, so it’s no wonder Mom and Dad were afraid one of them might fall in and drown. I remember Dad getting really angry at Jeff, who was barely toddling at the time. Miraculously, the boys survived their many river adventures.
It makes sense they were drawn to the water—most of our family outings involved fishing somewhere. Three rivers—the Auglaize, Tiffin, and Maumee—converge in Defiance. But I had no interest in tagging along. I once saw a muskrat on the riverbank, and that was enough for me. I’ve hated rodents ever since.
A Neighborhood Full of Characters
Riverside Avenue was rich with neighbors and activity. Next door lived the LeMaster family, with Randy and Caroline, who were close to our ages. Across the street was an elderly woman who regularly took me to her church on Sundays. Just past her house lived a family with four or five kids. Down the block was a devout Catholic family—we knew because their kids attended the Catholic school a few blocks away. I remember being impressed that Catholic school kids could spell "Mississippi" well before us public school kids!
In the evenings, we often heard the Catholic family’s prayers through their open windows during warm weather. It was a kind of spiritual soundtrack to our evenings.
I liked going to Grace Episcopal Church with the lady across the street, though I mostly stared at the fox head on her stole. Eventually, I began attending First Baptist Church with the LeMasters. My parents didn’t go to church, though they never objected to me going with neighbors. My mom was raised Methodist, and my dad’s family was nominally Lutheran, though none of them attended services. Their openness gave me a chance to experience a variety of church families.
Vivid Memories from Our Time There
Before we officially moved in, my parents stopped by to tour the house and left the four of us kids in the car. Kenny climbed into the front seat, put the car into gear, and we rolled into a tree on the property. Thankfully, no one was hurt.
We were allowed to walk to the Catholic school playground, about five blocks away. It had a unique merry-go-round we called a “Swing N Swirl.” One day, Jeni and I were playing on it when a train passed on the overhead tracks. The sudden noise startled Jeni, and she jumped off the ride, ducking beneath it mid-spin. When it stopped, she stood up too soon and hit her head on a bolt underneath. According to Mom, I carried my four-year-old sister home, her head bleeding, repeating through sobs, “God, please let my sister live.” She ended up needing stitches, but she was okay.
Another strong memory is watching The Beatles perform for the first time on The Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964. My dad, a die-hard Elvis fan, was unimpressed. He insisted they’d never be as big as Elvis. While history may argue otherwise, Dad went to his grave believing Elvis was the king—with Johnny Cash a close second, and the Beatles a distant third.
We neighborhood kids used to put on little talent shows and skits, charging a nickel or a dime for entry. Somehow, we actually had audiences!
Jeni was notorious for taking off her training pants the minute they got wet, often running around outside with her bare bottom showing. One time she even rolled down the hill next to our house completely naked. That image still comes to mind whenever I see a small hill in any yard. There’s one just like it in our current neighborhood in Saint Michael, Minnesota—and I think of her every time.
There was also the time we were loading up the car for a holiday dinner at my grandmother’s house in Bryan. Dad stayed behind for some reason. As we were backing out, he came out of the house with blood dripping from his hands. He’d been knocking on the window to get Mom’s attention, and it shattered, cutting his wrist. Off to the hospital we went—holiday plans on hold.
I’ll never forget a lesson I learned the hard way at that age. I walked to a corner store with my mom and took a piece of penny bubble gum without paying. On our way back, Mom realized what I was chewing. She made me walk back to the store alone—still within her line of sight—to return the gum and apologize. That terrifying walk across the bridge, which had gaps between wooden planks, felt like a march to hell. I feared I’d fall into the river or go to hell for stealing. That bridge still shows up in my nightmares from time to time.
A Trial Separation, and a Turning Point
During our time on Riverside Avenue, my parents went through a trial separation. I don’t remember how long it lasted, only that we stayed with my grandmother in Bryan for a few days. At one point, we visited my dad’s parents, and I witnessed something I’ll never forget—my paternal grandmother slapped my mother across the face. I didn’t like her before that, and after the slap, I hated her. In my child mind, that slap and the separation were connected, though I’ll never know for sure. What I do know is that my parents decided to stay together in the end.
Looking Back
Life on Riverside Avenue was a mix of the ordinary and the unforgettable. It was a place of scraped knees, neighborhood shows, river fears, muskrat sightings, religious explorations, and family struggles. Those years shaped my early sense of the world—its beauty, its unpredictability, and its heartbreaks.
As I reflect now, I realize how much that short span of time continues to echo in my memories. The bridge, the hill, the river—they remain etched in my mind not just as physical places, but as symbols of a childhood full of life, learning, and resilience.
I really don’t think anyone liked “mom” Karnes.
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