Features

The Crows got into square dancing by chance. They went to dinner late one summer evening to a restaurant where many of the other patrons were wearing what they later learned to be traditional square-dancing attire: the women in ruffled skirts worn over fluffy crinolines, and men in western-style shirts that matched or complemented their partners’ outfits.

“The fly-in gives us a chance to show off our facility,” Royer says. “It is here that people can walk through the history of Troy and Miami County, which were at the forefront of the aviation history.”

WACO (Weaver Aircraft Company) in Troy was the largest manufacturer of biplanes in the country during the late 1920s and early 1930s. Buck Weaver, a civilian who instructed military pilots in Texas during World War I, and friends Clayton Brukner, Sam Junkin, and Charlie Meyers founded the company in 1920. 

The group of locals with a passion for aviation has managed and maintained the airport and its 3,750-long runway since 1992. The air show — now one of the longest-running non-military, free air shows in Ohio — is its largest source of funding (the air show itself is free; boosters raise money by asking for parking donations and serving one of the best chicken dinners around).

The third Sunday each September, the Vinton County Air Show draws spectators by the thousands in search of family fun, highlighted by daredevil stunts, high-flying aerobatics, and a skydiving Santa Claus. 

Smiley, with help from the eighth and ninth generations of Smiley farmers — his son, James, and two grandsons, John and Alexander — raises corn, soybeans, hay, and Charolais beef cattle on 100 acres of the original Smiley farm, plus additional farmland they either own or lease.  

“The deed from King George was for at least 500 acres, but might have been for more than 1,000 acres,” John says. “We’re just not sure because parts of it were parceled off when people got married, and lots of the property records were destroyed in a courthouse fire.” 

That’s why they are also known as harvestmen — for their gregarious nature at harvest time. They live throughout Ohio, on the farm, in the forest, in the suburbs, in your gardens, and in every corner of every city. And they are good to have around.

Drivers in Ohio pass them by, often without a second thought — a small cross or a bouquet of flowers, a candle or a stuffed animal, any of a number of seemingly insignificant trinkets. But to the folks who have erected these roadside memorials, they mean the world. 

“I was going through college and never finding exactly what I really wanted to do,” Synowiec says. “I was an early entrepreneurial spirit and I wanted to do something that I would love to do — not necessarily something I would make a million dollars doing, but I never wanted to hate my job.”

Volkens discovered pickleball when he began to spend winters in Arizona. He fell in love with the sport and played daily. But when he returned to Middletown he was dismayed to find nary a court — not a single one.

After driving around Middletown and finding 17 empty tennis courts, Volkens saw his opportunity; he gathered some friends and made a case to Middletown’s Parks Department, which agreed to dedicate space to the activity, and Volkens started recruiting Middletown residents old and young as soon as courts became available. That was nearly 20 years ago.

Jara is a professional sand sculptor, and he’s been at this experiential public art form for 33 years. It’s a career that has taken him to 38 states and 13 countries, as far away as Australia. He’s won 14 world championships and earned medals at countless other contests along the way.