Remembering Wheeling Park
By Don Iannone

Odd how some things seem
to stick in your mind,
even after 45 years.
Like the old entrance
to Wheeling Park
--a deeply engrained
symbol of summer,
when I was a young boy
growing up in the Ohio Valley.

The drive from Martins Ferry
wasn't all that long,
at least in grown-up time,
but it was an eternity
when you were eight years old.
We knew we were there
when we saw the park's front door.

Summer was real
when you passed under the arch.
It was time to play
from sun up to sun down.
There was the half-hour ride
on a paddle boat,
while you ate popcorn
and fed the ageless white swan,
who always gave you
a run for your money.

Then there was Mom's picnic lunch,
with all the trimmings.
You had to get to the park early
to land a shaded table with a view.
Best of all,
all the cousins were there,
so you always had someone to play with.

Funny how some things seem
to stick in your mind,
especially things that made
a lifelong impression on you.