Favorite Yellow Springs Memories, Pt. I

• By YS News Staff
• Published: January 8, 2026

• No Comments

At the end of 2025, the News asked folks to share their favorite Yellow Springs memories — and we received a flood of responses from villagers near and far. So numerous were the memories, in fact, that we can’t get all of them in one issue — so look for them within the pages of the News for the rest of the month.

Happy New Year to you, our extended community — always part of the village, no matter where you are now — and thank you for writing.

—Lauren “Chuck” Shows, Editor

Wow, Chuck, this is a tough one this year.   Looking back over the decades, I’m stuck.

Is my favorite memory of those Friday nights at Hag Harbor in the ’80s, or the Student Council dances at Morgan Middle, featuring MC Hammer and the middle school boys’ best break dancing? Surely it was the honor of coaching the eighth grade girls basketball team, who went undefeated in their regular season for two years in the early ’80s. Was it one of the literacy methods classes while adjuncting at Antioch College in the ’90s or the last class ending the 15-year run on the faculty at Antioch Midwest in 2015? Wait! It must have been election night on Nov. 7, 2017, or the first wedding I officiated as mayor — or the final proclamation.

So, you got me. Too many favorite memories to pick just one.

—Pam Conine

It was Halloween 1952 and there was once again to be a costume contest on Mills Lawn. My friends, Jessica Langton, Barrie Dallas and Robin Lithgow (fourth- and fifth-graders) and I were grouching to my father, Paul Treichler, that our costumes had never won anything. Well, he said, why don’t you go as the Brooklyn Dodgers — who had just lost the World Series to the New York Yankees for the gazillionth time.

We wondered how this could possibly work and whether anyone would get it. “Trust me,” said Daddy, and built us an amazing Brooklyn Bridge out of various rods and poles and wires and other hunks of metal — he was in theater, after all. It was about eight feet long, the perfect size for us sad, dejected Dodgers to carry on our slumping shoulders. We wrote our team’s name on old caps and T-shirts and dragged bats and mitts dejectedly behind us.

We were a sensation! And we won first prize! Basking in our glory, we joined the rest of the village for Walter “Andy” Anderson’s churned apple butter.

(In 1955, the Dodgers finally beat the Yankees: “Jackie Robinson opened the World Series with a daring dash against Yogi Berra,” a play still discussed and debated to this day.)

—Paula Treichler

Having grown up in the village, I have lots of fond memories of the community, like walking across the Antioch golf course. In the winter, I would come to the Antioch School soaking wet, having wiped my arms up and down while lying in the snow to create an angel.

Then during my last two years of high school, a few of us Bryan High School students joined Antioch College students on Red Square to folk dance every Friday night. One night as I was going to sleep, I named and counted all of the dances I knew, which came to 168 dances!

During the holiday season, I remember a favorite activity, which was the Community Carol Sing, led by Walter Anderson and accompanied by Jean Putnam. Many years later, I led the carol singing, which I thoroughly enjoyed!

Just going downtown gives me joy and memories of seeing friends and visiting with folks as I buy whatever I need. Shopping is my therapy!

—Patti Dallas

Our first Christmas as a married couple and our first Christmas in America started in Yellow Springs in 1978. Christmas Eve, we watched Albert Finney in “Scrooge” at the Little Art Theatre. As we left almost at midnight and walked to our apartment on Glen Street, the snow was gently falling. The silence of the night and the gentle snow was beautiful, and everything looked magical, and I was madly in love with my husband and with America.

—Corrine Bayraktaroglu

I lived in Mill Run Cabin in the Glen when I worked at the News. I didn’t have a car, so I usually rode to work on my bike. Tuesday was when we ran the press into the night to get the paper printed for distribution on Wednesday. The night before the big blizzard, I rode home as it was just beginning, and I have a mental image — and a photo — of a deserted downtown with a light coating of snow and more in the air. I walked through the Glen into work the next day.

—Bill McCuddy

I remember Tim Hackathorne at his post at the table on Xenia Avenue, being the eyes and ears of the village, watching and keeping track, all while reading a book, even on the coldest days. At another table, Terry Snider, cradling his small cup of coffee, would listen with care and concern to anyone who sat down with him, warmly assuring them, “You are doing so well,” even in the midst of a multitude of troubles.

“Here on Xenia Avenue everything’s OK,” Terry would say, and so it was, nurtured by these two guardians. They passed away within six months of each other seven years ago. I miss them both so much.

George remembers having the freedom as a small child in a small town to roam and explore all on his own. In the late 1950s, as a 6- or 7-year-old, when he lived with his family in half a duplex on Glen Street, he explored the Glen to his heart’s content and could walk into town anytime he felt like it, often barefoot, to take in a Saturday afternoon matinee at the Little Art for 50 cents or buy a bag of goodies at the bakery on Xenia Avenue for a quarter, then hide under the big blue spruce at the end of the block to enjoy it.

Once, he and his friend Prentice Tomas rode their bikes all the way to Clifton and back — George’s with 18-inch wheels — down and up Grinnell Road, all the way down Clifton Road and back into town on State Route 343. It was all farmland back then, and aside from the rare car or two, all was well until George skidded on the gravel in the driveway of the Bushes’ house near the corner of 343 and 68, skinning his knee. Mrs. Bush kindly patched him up and both kids were back on Glen Street in time for supper, without the grown-ups being any the wiser.

—Abigail Cobb and George Bieri

Returning to my pregnant wife and 2-year-old child after my first day of work. It was a snowy January evening in 2007, and we had just moved here from Scotland. It felt like I was coming home.

—Chris Wyatt

One time while spending time in the woods by my lonesome, a complete stranger joined me in a meditation with no words exchanged, and then I was invited to lunch by two strangers and had one of the most profound conversations of my life — all in one day. YS is always magical.

—Geneva Tarot

My favorite memory would have to be when the lifeguard’s whistle would blow for a “rest break” at Gaunt Park pool. Running down the hill barefoot on the hot cement, and then tiptoeing across the gravel to the candy stand. We would race back up the hill to get in the pool as soon as the break was over.

—Jessica Barnes

As a kid walking with my babysitter in the late ’60s, with people making pottery on the sidewalks, playing guitars, drumming, peace signs and sipping a dirt-type natural milkshake.

—Tessie Nolan

Join me in the way-back machine, if you will, back to the early 1990s. Desi and I were new in the village. We lived catty-corner from the house that is now the Dharma Center. Robert and Diana lived there at the time; we became friends and we decided to revive the tradition of having a May pole dance in the grass “triangle” in front of our houses.

We found the pole used in the past, cut new steamers to be wound around it, and invited the whole community. It became a big party that went on for four or five years.

One year someone — I won’t say who — noticed that the streamers had gotten a little ratty and had the great idea that we should iron them. So, we found an ironing board, set it up on the street bordering the triangle, and we took turns ironing the streamers.

The May pole dance that year was fun, as it always was, but what I remember the most was ironing the multicolored streamers on that ironing board in the middle of the street.

—Ellis Jacobs

One time people were having a bar fight outside the Gulch while my friend and I were playing “Angela” by Bob James on flute and guitar. The contrast was insane.

—Nathan Hardman

One of the first causes I was involved in supporting when I moved to YS was working to remove the YSPD from the ACE Task Force. I was so impressed with the due diligence of the Human Relations Commission and community organizers and the experience encouraged me to become engaged in the community.

—Jessica Thomas

One day during the first winter, I was transporting Tanner to Mills Lawn and there was a dollar in the snow. We parked close to that same spot every day for at least a week, and that dollar stayed there. Everyone who’d passed it left it in hopes the original owner would find it. I still refer back to that as one of the moments that solidified my decision to bring our kids here.

—Dawn Miller

That time people came to my house to get bread. No joke! One of the really neat things about the village is how many exchanges happen from home to home of all manner and all kinds. Baked goods, sure; used items and clothes, crafted things, meal trains.

—Helena Maya Maus

When I saw the invitation from the News to submit memories of Yellow Springs, I also read Michael Viemeister’s letter to the editor about “Being ‘from’ Yellow Springs” in the same issue.  Those two items became very linked in my mind as I’m often asked where I’m from. My answer is, of course, from Yellow Springs, but I usually add “Where Antioch College is.”  Most people seem to recognize Antioch, and it gives them an insight into the person I’ve become. Antioch’s social, political and unique educational process was absorbed by the entire community, including us kids. 

Whenever we visit Yellow Springs once or twice a year and drive around town, I still say to my husband or to myself: “There’s the Dallases’ house, the Treichlers’ house, the Deweys’ house, the Lithgows’ house” and many more. The people who lived there are my strongest memories of my childhood. My friends and I could wander all over town and never feel unsafe; we could ride our horses into town and nobody batted an eye; we were in plays at the Antioch Area Theatre;, went to the Antioch School, which taught me so much more than how to read and write; we got to be a part of nature in the Glen — well, you get the idea. 

What I’ve carried forward into my 82nd year is the sense of coming home whenever we visit Yellow Springs and the deep and long-lasting friendships that have stayed with me from kindergarten until now.  The example I can give you is there are about 10 women who started to Zoom once a week during COVID, and we are continuing to Zoom every Friday night five years later. Sometimes there are seven or eight of us, but usually it’s four or five. There was a lot of reminiscing in the early days, but now we talk about everything. There is something about sharing our lives with people who have known each other for nearly 80 years. Yellow Springs gave me that, and I’ll be forever grateful. 

—Jessica Langton Andrews

One of my favorite memories as a kid was Halloween. YSO had fire pits around the village to stop by, get warm, and get hot chocolate. YS police cruisers roamed the village handing out candy. Only time seeing kids chasing the cops. Wonderful memory!

—Janmichael Graine

About a year ago, I was getting my eggs from Mark. I told him I would be in town and in a class until 11. He came looking for me and as I left my class, somebody said, “Karla, Mark’s looking for you.” I left the building, walked a few shops down and somebody said, “Hey Karla, Mark’s looking for you.” This has warmed my heart so much and always puts a smile on my face. The sweetness of a small village!

—Karla Alyse

The time when as a little guy, I informed my mother that I was going to walk downtown by myself! She agreed and it turned out fine. Years later I found out that after I left, she went on to call everyone along the route and have them report in as I walked by. It took a village.

—Martin Tranum

Knocking on Gabby’s, tryna graduate Antioch, scraping coins for a plate, son.

—Felicia Chappelle

Climbing the big rock and walking the many stairs down to the skunk cabbage in Glen Helen when I was in pre-K!

—Madeline Jacknin Sexton

Hanging out at Com’s, frequenting Eddie’s Drive Thru and buying Boone’s Farm, eating ice cream from Grote’s. Years before that, eating at the Antioch Inn on Sundays with my parents.

—Betsy Harner

Skipping school for the day in 1976, hiking in Glen Helen and the Pine Forest, cruising through John Bryan, dinner at Trail Tavern (remember spaghetti night?) and finishing at Young’s. Awesome days, awesome memories.

—Andrea Tinch Paulos

Asking my now wife to marry me at the Winds Cafe over a decade ago.

—John Wehner

One night my grandmother took me out just to walk around town. A jazz band was playing at the Emporium, and to my delight I made a new friend that also liked all kinds of music. We ended up playing music in front of Tom’s sometimes afterwards and even played at Gabby Day. Will was a good friend and I miss him dearly. I think of him when I play my guitar sometimes.

—Ren Ramos

Coming here from where I lived on Route 72 in Springfield to spend afternoons or evenings in the ’80s. Getting soft serve at Weaver’s, taking yoga at the college gym, shopping at Import and being served at the Tavern with friends. My childhood self knew I’d return someday for good. And I did.

—Kellye Pinkleton

Dancing at the Gulch, getting donuts at the bakery at midnight, being at the demonstration supporting Paul Graham trying to get his hair cut at Gegner’s, the fair in Gaunt Park before the fireworks on July 4.

—Gwen Agna

In the early ’70s (pre-tornado), the Greene County Easter Seal Society took kids in wheelchairs on the trails in Glen Helen. My mom was the director and I was (reluctant) volunteer No. 1.

—Charles King

Dark Star Books when I was like 6 years old, back in the old location and like four cats ago. And then for years after my dad and I would spend Saturdays scouring the boxes for back issues of X-Men.

—Jeff Dern

Buying Tootsie Rolls at the variety store for a penny each.

—Iris Bieri

At first, I found it difficult to cut a memory from a situation that is still creating memories. I know I can do it. For example: I remember when I was 10 years old — and I am still alive. However, my relationship with the community seems to have less distinct boundaries than time gives, so my memories are also less of events and more of change.

Looking back about 50 years, I realize that I knew most of the employees in the school system. Perhaps that is not surprising since I was a student and so were my three sisters. My parents taught in the system and my daughter attended. My wife served on the school board. I tutored. I can remember where the teachers lived in town.

I knew almost everyone who worked for the Village and they usually lived in town. I chatted with police officers and shared equipment and labor with the Village crew. I was asked to work on projects that matched my expertise.

I knew the majority of the owners and workers of the businesses in town because I did business with them and I saw them in their homes in town.

I find that, although I have many new and different interactions today, I miss the sense of community that came from working together to meet our needs.

—Richard Zopf

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