Garrett Merrick Memories of Early Years put in other posts

I was born on 15 December 1946, the second of three sons born to Lillian Edith Conley and Charles Aaron Jarvis. Melvin Charles Jarvis Merrick, my older brother, arrived previously on 29 March 1945. My younger brother, Kenneth Ray, came along on 10 November 1948. My very earliest memory is of lying in bed at night, being scared by ghosts in the closet at the end of my bed. I solved the problem by closing the closet door every night.

Another early memory occurred when we lived in the attic across from Grandma Conley’s house at 50 Ohio Street in Akron Ohio. I apparently awoke screaming from a very vivid dream in which I had seen a ‘rat’ running across the floor at the bottom of my bed. I was convinced it was real and would not be persuaded otherwise. In adult retrospect I realize it could not have been real, as at that time I had never seen a rat and didn’t even know what one looked like. This one was yellow and almost as big as a cat!

A year or so later from the window of that same attic (I must have been about six) I witnessed the torching of Grandma’s garage by my brother, Kenny. I was sick and had to stay in, so I was looking out the window when I saw smoke coming from the garage. I knew I should call the fire department, but I didn’t know how, so I decided to just watch and enjoy the show. I saw the fire engines come (too late!), smoke, flames, and people running around. I also seem to remember seeing Kenny sneaking back home across the street. He confessed to me that had been playing with matches in the garage. I was glad that I had been sick and couldn’t be blamed for the fire.

We spent a lot of time at Grandma Conley’s during my early years. She was a tiny, thin woman with white hair. I especially remember how kind and sweet she was. I also remember some really fine Thanksgiving dinners, always with cranberry sauce, which I ate once and never again. We always loved to go to Grandma’s house, a place of love and security.

My other favorite relative was my father’s brother, Uncle Carroll. He would take us for rides in his car. He impressed me with his knowledge of which direction other cars were going to turn; I later learned about turn signals and turning lanes. On one occasion he took us to visit Grandma Jarvis (Bessie) in West Virginia. It was wonderful: the countryside; the steep West Virginia hills, especially in the morning fog; watching someone milk the cow; feeling free and outdoors; Grandma’s garden; and her scrumptious rhubarb pie. Grandma was plump - and also kind and loving. I have no memory of ever seeing her again, though when I was nineteen or twenty, we had some pleasant correspondence.