08/01/2025
Tall and imposing, Larry “Michael” P. joins his friends for meals or drops by therapy. He listens more than he speaks.
Here at The Meadows of Ottawa, he mainly rests as he heals. He sits in his recliner watching television, but he is quick to welcome any visitors. The room erupts in laughter as he teases and reminisces.
His story is unique- and one of so many stories here worth sharing.
Larry has lived a life that reads like a history lesson in the struggles, tenacity, and innovation of the American worker.
Born of Welsh, Irish, and English descent to John and Geneva P., Larry lost both grandfathers to the dirty and dangerous “black collar” job of coal mining: one died young in the mines, the other succumbed to “Black Lung.”
Always there was the dread of a mining disaster. Shrill whistles and the solemn clanging of church bells would break the quiet of the day. Terrified families would hurry to the site of the accident to keep vigil. Explosions, poisonous gases, and cave-ins were ever-present dangers. Coal miners were slaves to their jobs as they were paid in scrip that could only be used in the company store. Ultimately, Larry’s parents aspired for life outside the dangers of the mining industry and an electrical infrastructure in flux.
Larry’s dad bravely served in the Pacific Theater, although he never spoke of his wartime experiences with his family. Larry’s mother busied herself with their young family -and helped support them by working at a nuclear Plant in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. Part of “The Manhattan Project,” this location played a pivotal role in the war, as it produced the enriched uranium used to create the first atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima.
By war’s end, the TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority), the New Deal’s most ambitious undertaking, needed to produce more energy. Thousands of families were displaced and their properties flooded to build dams and infrastructure. Perhaps it was the ever-present reality of eminent domain that provided the needed incentive for Larry’s parents to seek a better and more secure life for their family.
In the 1950s, Detroit, Michigan, was the epicenter of the automotive industry. Larry’s parents and their extended families were drawn to the promise of a better life in The Motor City.
Detroit housed the headquarters of Chrysler, General Motors, and Ford -and offered any number of “blue collar ” and “white collar” jobs for those willing to work hard. For Larry’s father, it meant a hot and demanding factory job that gave his family a bridge out of poverty.
In retrospect, Larry loved Detroit and the bus rides that carried him to meet-ups with cousins.
He has fond memories of a booming city that offered endless opportunities for a young boy. Larry smiles as he remembers previewing Ford’s newest models there -and watching visitors being treated to laps around the track at The Rotunda. Michigan’s Central Station was a marvel of architecture, offering such fantastic sights as a giant turnaround for trains and teeming masses of people arriving in the growing city.
Soon enough, though, Detroit was plagued by growing pains as overcrowding led to tensions, the growth of suburban living, and economic shifts.
The winds of change once again had John and Geneva uprooting their family.
The American dream, tied into the changes in industry, was always just beyond the next horizon. Even as a little boy, Larry understood that a better life was only possible through sacrifice and back-breaking work.
When Larry’s uncle was offered a white-collar supervisor position at the new Ford Plant in Lima, Ohio, his dad took a millwright position there, settling his family in Pandora, Ohio.
Ten years old isn’t an easy age for a boy to leave behind the familiarity and the comfort of extended family. He was raised amidst asphalt and cement and the hustle and bustle of city life. Here, in Putnam County, he marveled at the vast expanses of farmland -and the safety of tree-lined streets.
Suddenly, Larry had the freedom to come and go as he pleased, riding his bike with his neighbor kids, playing pick-up games of ball, and fishing in nearby Riley Creek.
One rule reigned supreme in their house, though: the family gathered at a set time for dinner. Larry chuckles when he shares that there was no need to be summoned to their table. His talented Southern mom could whip up such delicious fare as pork chops, cornbread, and gravy. “Nobody ever left that table hungry.”
Larry recalls that he loved playing football as a teenager, but his early excitement was soon replaced by disappointment. The player’s parents took turns carpooling. Geneva didn’t drive -and John worked long hours at the plant. Larry still remembers his mortification when his dad missed his turn driving the boys.
In retrospect, Larry understands that participating was a luxury not afforded to him. Not wanting to ask for an exemption, he quietly quit the team.
More importantly, that experience was an early lesson in grace and acquiescence. He has since lived by the mantra that our lives are defined not by our challenges -but by how we face them.
Larry enjoyed high school, particularly history, math, and hands-on shop classes.
During summer break, the city boy-turned-country boy baled hay, hoed, and helped harvest. He remembers how hot his bedroom was on a summer’s night, and how happy he was when a cool breeze from the northwest would usher in coolness in the morning. Such memories belie his old soul-and his love of simple pleasures.
Aside from school and farm work, Larry also enjoyed his .85 an hour job at a local market where he stocked shelves and carried out groceries. He’s proud that he handed down the work ethic he inherited to his children and grandchildren.
Larry recalls that once he got his driver’s license, his dad helped him land a ‘56 Ford, a fix-me-upper that required Larry to buy another “clunker” for its parts. Larry learned yet another lesson in applying time and ingenuity to gain a positive result.
The satisfaction of rebuilding that car would later lead to his hobby and passion for buying and restoring other, more desirable American-made vehicles. He would ultimately own as many as twenty cars, including a GTO, Corvettes, Thunderbirds, Mustangs, and a Camaro. He would take each one as a challenge, ply his skills, grow his knowledge, enjoy the fruits of his labor, then sell and invest in his next project. He doesn’t miss those cars, just the joy of acquiring and restoring.
The Vietnam War was in full swing, and Larry’s plan beyond high school was to keep productive until his inevitable draft notice. He wasn’t prepared to be rejected for a previously undiagnosed heart murmur. He accepted that he needed to busy himself to find his way.
His father’s wisdom has helped Larry navigate life. “If you have something to say, say it.” “Don’t lie.” “Work hard -and only buy what you have the money for.” “Don’t live your life trying to impress others.”Life for teenagers and young adults in Putnam County in the late 1960s meant closing down the Inn-Between at 1 a.m. and Hoyt’s Tavern at 2:30 a.m. It was on one such night out that he met Norma H., the woman he would marry.
After working at Sylvania in Ottawa, Ohio, Larry was hired at the Ford Plant in Lima. There, he worked his way up from assembly to machinery to injection to maintenance. Although he qualified to be a millwright, he charted his course.
His marriage blessed him with four wonderful children, but it would require him to channel the courage and tenacity that was part of his DNA. One child, a son, tragically died in infancy.
When ultimately presented with the reality of being a single parent to his three kids, Larry remained steadfast in his commitment to them.
He’d change out of his clothes at work before heading out to visits and extracurricular activities in Minster, nearly an hour’s drive one way. Of that time, his daughter remembers the joy of them getting ice cream afterward. One young son remained with him in Pandora. Larry is proud that he was able to juggle all their schedules. Ultimately, all three would move in with him, and together they created a happy, welcoming home. Those years produced his most cherished memories.
Always on the move, Larry continued to hone his skills at the shooting range and to explore new fishing spots.
Beyond retirement, he joined forces with his older sister to care for their widowed mother.
A doting grandfather, he loves the rapport they all share. Once he convinced a grandchild to help him load aluminum to haul to recycling. Thinking his reward would be a few dollars, the child was thrilled to be handed the $125 payout.
With his granddaughters, he formed the “Personal Friendship Club.” At school functions (and still today), their secret greeting is a thumb in their right ear -and a comical fiddling of their fingers.
Larry’s children and grandchildren remain constants in his life as he continues to anchor and direct them.
Larry is so much more than the congenial gentleman who walks the halls and greets staff and fellow residents with a smile. His story echoes our national history.
His character, selflessness, and quiet strength encapsulate the American spirit.
