When I Get That Wheeling Feeling

I don’t know what it is about the dirty old Ohio River that can instantly put my mind at ease and bring a smile to my lips. For whatever reason, this is my happy place. Well, here and St. Pete Beach, but I can’t just up and head to the Gulf as easily as I can go down to the river.

My grandparents lived in South Wheeling. When I was a child, I loved going to stay with them every chance I got. They lived on a quiet street surrounded by good neighbors who looked out for one another. Summer evenings were spent on the porch enjoying each other’s company. I always thought nothing bad ever happened there. Of course, it was probably just because I was too young to notice, but I wholeheartedly believed that West Virginia was almost heaven.

Just the other side of the alley was the elementary school. They didn’t have a playground, just a blacktop lot with a small ramp, perfect for an eight year old to ride a bike around. As anyone who criticizes NASCAR will tell you, going around in a circle is boring stuff. It was exciting news when the city of Wheeling decided to build a bike trail along the river bank.

My grandparents’ house was three blocks from the river, but my aunt and uncle lived right on the riverbank. Many evenings my grandparents and I would walk over and sit on their porch and watch the river transform into this beautiful reflecting pool. There’s absolutely nothing I loved more than seeing all the lights up and down the riverbank lighting up the water. We’d watch barges travel up and down the river, and count tugboats and speedboats as they passed by us. Maybe that too was the innocence of being a child, but twilight on the riverbank was downright magical.

The closest grocery store to my grandparents’ house was the Kroger in Benwood, just a couple miles away. Once Wheeling put in the bike trail, my grandfather would ride his bike down to the store to pick up a few things. He had a wire basket on his bike that was suitable for a few vegetables or a half gallon of milk, and if I asked, a package of Oreos and a can of fruit cocktail. I loved riding the bike trail with my Pappap. We’d ride to the store, or down a few blocks to visit his brothers. We’d pedal past the IOLA Club and Bloch Brothers, and then turn around and head back up the river to the baseball field by Wheeling Middle School and watch from the outfield fence if there happened to be a game. Riding along the river always made me smile: it made me feel so alive. Sharing that experience with my Pappap is one of my fondest memories. He and I would ride along the riverbank while my Mummum cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. Then she’d sit on the back porch and watch for us to come back home. What I wouldn’t give for one more after-dinner bike ride with him and one more night on the porch with them both. I miss them so much.

It’s been eleven years since they left this earth. Every time I’ve gone to Wheeling since they passed, I can’t help but want to drive over to their house, sit on the porch, and just remember all the good times we had. Instead, I drive to Heritage Port and walk along the riverbank. If the weather cooperates, I’ll pick up some DiCarlo’s pizza and just sit at the port. It’s very therapeutic, just being there. It doesn’t matter if the river is high, low, bustling, or deserted. All that matters is that I can look out over the water and somehow feel at peace.

This stay-at-home order is taking its toll on me. I’m struggling with cabin fever and trying to suppress it at a time when we need to practice social distancing. Parks around here are closed because too many people refuse to heed the governor’s requests. When it gets to be too much, I know I’ve gotta give in to that Wheeling feeling and head west. I know that no matter what, the river will be there. The picture at the top of this post is from just a few days ago. Half of the port is still under water. There’s debris littering the shoreline. There’s mud everywhere. Despite all that, it was still a beautiful sight the moment I stepped out of the car. I hope I never lose that magic. I pray that something as simple as watching the Ohio River rolling by will always be able to put me at ease. Going there reminds me that just like the river, I can keep on going.

So tell me, what’s your happy place?