I can hear the other guys talking up and down the hall. I should be studying but, probably, I'm not. Not really. Instead, I am excited and my mind is elsewhere. I'm headed to East Canton, Ohio, my home, for the weekend. And that's just a couple days away.
Normally I wouldn't be going home this early in the semester. But I'd traveled as a college representative all summer and only managed to get a week in at home before heading back to Cincinnati for early August classes. So, having one more weekend at home was a welcome break, especially since my next one probably wouldn't come until Thanksgiving.
I remember that on this night, this warm pre-weekend break night, I made a phone call.
Making or getting a phone call was a big deal in our dorm. There were no phones in our rooms. Instead, each floor shared a pay phone (or was it two?) situated in the connecting hall between the the north and south wings of the floor.
Making or getting a phone call was a big deal in our dorm. There were no phones in our rooms. Instead, each floor shared a pay phone (or was it two?) situated in the connecting hall between the the north and south wings of the floor.
It was hard to get "phone time" and even harder to pay for it. Local calls cost pocket change - a dime back then, in later years a quarter. Long distance calls were paid by the minute. And they were not cheap. Fortunately for pocket-poor college students, long distance calls to home could be made "collect" - meaning the parents paid for the call.
Tonight, I was calling home collect. Happily, my parents accepted the call. They were glad to hear from me and even more glad and surprised to hear I was coming home in a few days. The call was costly for my family, so we had to keep it short. We chatted for a few minutes. I spoke a few words with my Mom, one of my sisters (I think) and one of my brothers. Then, to my surprise, my Dad got on the line. I say surprised, not because Dad and I didn't talk, but because we didn't often talk on the phone.
Dad and I were the shortest of conversationalists. On the phone, even more so. At the time, I always thought he was just quiet, that he didn't like to talk. I was wrong. Years later I learned his participation in 3 Pacific invasions as a Marine during WWII had affected him physically as well as emotionally. After his return to the U.S., he spent most of his life working around presses and drills as a quality control engineer. The sound of heavy artillery in the service and high-pitched machining at work took a toll.
It wasn't that he didn't like to talk. Dad couldn't always hear.
I didn't know that then. That's why the sound of my Dad's voice on the line was surprising and special. And he was excited! He wanted me to know that a Bigfoot had been sighted just west of us near a little town not 12 miles from our home on State Route 30. The sighting had made first the local news, then the AP wire, and finally the national news.
That might sound funny, but you'd have to know my Dad and where we grew up. Dad was pretty much a no-nonsense kinda' guy and our home near East Canton was in a pretty quiet part of town. So, hearing him laugh and talk about this - that was special. I was always a bit of a smart-alec as a college kid and hearing his voice as we talked about this made an impression on me.
Dad was having fun -- and I will remember that for the rest of my life.
The Bigfoot sighting later became known as the Minerva Monster. In the late spring of 2015, Ohio native Seth Breedlove and the Small Town Monsters group released a documentary (by the same name) covering the sighting and the events and national attention that surrounded it.
Minerva Monster is exceptionally well done. Breedlove puts the event back within its historical setting and time and lets the surviving witnesses speak for themselves. No hype. Just history.
I wish Dad could have lived to see it. He would have loved it. And we would have remembered and laughed.
It would have been fun.
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