A terrible loss for Put-in-Bay, a wonderful gain for Heaven

I can remember going up to Put-in-Bay when I was very young. We had finished the cabin and would often spend lots of time there over the summer. Being young, there wasn't a whole lot for Marissa and I to do, but we found our ways of having fun. I can remember going swimming in Lake Erie, wearing water shoes because the rocks were sharp. I remember going down into Perry's Cave at least once every summer, and sometimes the Crystal Cave (though I haven't been down there for years and years). I remember riding on the tour train multiple times just because my "Uncle" Chip was the driver. I remember having a pop and lemonade stand at the end of our lane with my cousins when they'd come with us for a short while. They used to make Marissa and I attract customers using our adorable "twin" qualities. I remember getting season passes for the carousel, and riding it over and over again, and often times fighting over who'd get to ride the fish with the worm in his mouth. I can even remember going fishing once with my dad and brothers. I think it was the one and only time I've ever seen someone catch a fish in person. My dad threw it back, but it died anyway.

But of all the memories I hold dear to my heart, there are some that will always be the most dear to me. Riding our bikes down that long road past the Miller Boat dock; the wild flowers blooming and the train tracks ready for some adventure. That small one story house that will forever have the distinct smell of childhood happiness, even when I go there today. The gumball machine in the kitchen, the comic strips on the fridge that would change with every passing summer, the binoculars in the dining room that we'd use to look out at the lake to see the boats going by. I remember the chess board underneath the table in the living room, and that fuzzy carpet that we spent many nights watching Carpool and Who Framed Roger Rabbit while the adults went out for the night.

I remember the carousel horse in the hallway right when you walked in the front door. I remember running immediately to my cousin's old bedroom to play with her old barbies, which were kept in the third drawer down on the left side of the dresser. That blue room with the twin beds that we had always considered our own because it's where my sister and I always slept when we stayed there before the cabin was built. I can remember climbing down the stairs, which were always covered with green plants that had overgrown on top of the deck, to get near the water. I remember awaiting eagerly for the paths to be ready so we could go trailing through the "woods" to find the train tracks. And there will never be a sunset more beautiful than from the view of the hammock in the backyard, the one that he used to lay on.

I remember him. His youthful smile that lit up the room, his round belly that was usually covered with a Put-in-Bay shirt, and suspenders, that went along perfectly with his train conductor hat. He would always wear it when he drove us around in his train, the one I felt like he built just for us, though I know that he enjoyed it just as much, if not more than us children. I can remember getting the pleasure of riding with him in the old cars during the parades. We'd throw our candy and wave to the crowd while he drove with pride, smiling like a child who had just opened presents Christmas morning. He was always smiling because he had it all. But we were the blessed ones because we had him.

Time has gone on now, and we have all grown up. These memories are all I have of him...But I'll never forget my childhood spent with him on that wonderful island where adventures were found and magic occurred. That magic was in him and his youthful and loving character; so full of life, fun, and love. And although the island will never feel the same I can continue to remember the good times and the way things used to be. I learned from the best to hold onto my childhood and never let it go. I'll never let him go. Lord, watch over him like I know he's now watching over me.

To one of the greatest men I'll ever know; the man I've always admired and will forever love,
We'll be missing you, Uncle Skip. Thank you for being apart of my life.

Katherine