04/23/2026
“Finer than a frog’s hair,” is Larry H.’s favorite catchphrase here at the Meadows of Ottawa.
He delivers his retort with an ornery smile and joyful prosody.
His lower back issues haven’t slowed him down; he compensates by sitting low slung in his wheelchair, his lanky legs quickly pulling him along.
Despite poor eyesight and hearing, Larry never complains.
Now well into his eighth decade, he retains a youthful curiosity and a joy for life’s simple pleasures.
Born at home on Taft Street in Ottawa, Ohio to Joe and Gladys H., Larry was one of eight children. His father was a mechanic -and his mother, who he remembers with deep affection, made life good despite their modest means.
Early on, mother and son formed a close bond. Larry helped her with various tasks -and was her sidekick in the garden. In the pre-dawn darkness, mother and son would walk down the street to dump the water from the wash pitchers and bowls at the DuMont Hotel.
Larry recalls a colorful neighborhood teeming with playmates. Hobos looking for food and work would exit the box cars at the nearby depot.
For Larry the street and world beyond was a vibrant hive of activity.
Storyteller extraordinaire, Larry shares anecdotes the likes of which Mark Twain might have imagined.
On summer days he and his friends would run or bike down the alley to Landwehr Sawmill where they “Bar-ohd”pieces of scrap wood -and enough tar and tin to keep their makeshift rafts and boats afloat. The Blanchard River provided endless opportunities for the boys to drift and explore.
Fueled by the naïveté and bravado of youth, they would sometimes swim in the tributary muddied by industrial and residential waste.
Years later The Clean Water Act of 1972 would usher in change for our country’s waterways.
Larry marvels that he was lucky enough to grow up in a time and a place when most children were allowed free rein.
Of Christmas he remembers one particular gift, a fishing pole that he and his brother shared.
He chuckles as he recalls one particularly memorable incident.
At that time the health department would routinely isolate an entire household to prevent the spread of an infectious disease.
A quarantine sign posted on the family’s porch anchored Larry’s family to home -and kept the restless boy from his adventures and friends.
Relief came in the form of a brother’s ornery friend who ignored the sign -and found himself on lockdown with the rest. “He sure did liven up the atmosphere.”
Of his schooling at Saints Peter and Paul, Larry confesses he never really enjoyed the classes. He speculates he may still have demerits to be served.
When his brother was allowed to drop out of school after eighth grade, Larry begged his parents to allow him to do the same. His mother saw his potential -and insisted he continue his education.
Although the walk from his house to school was relatively short, in the winter, the bitter cold was “brutal.” Luckily, a teacher driving to work would inevitably pull over, and Larry and his friends would tumble in.
Somewhere along the way, a good friend decided their circle deserved it own moniker -and dubbed their motley crew “The Chick-a-roos.”
When Larry wasn’t at school or bagging groceries at the local IGA or Hub, he would join his buddies in various escapades. These years were pure slapstick with the gang taking on any challenge -and actively chasing fun. He laughs as he shares that the boys loved to “leg wrassle.” Young and fit, they were all flabbergasted to find a girl to be their most daunting opponent.
Her technique and strength was humbling. Lying on the ground, elbows locked with her opponent, she’d swiftly hook knees and slam the loser on his stomach or side.
As there was no community pool in town, the boys would bike or hitchhike to the historic Columbus Grove Municipal Pool.
Once they got their driver licenses, the real excitement kicked in. Crammed in jalopies, the Chick-a-Roos would fly down country roads.
Their most infamous antic happened on a boy’s trip to Bledsoe Beach in Angola, Indiana. Realizing too late that they had forgotten the center pole for their tent, they faced a dilemma.
Larry’s buddy John K. decided it would be a good idea to chop down a young tree and “repurpose” it. The group collectively agreed.
“None of us thought anything of it. We got back and there were cops everywhere.”
Their ingenuity and initiative earned them a night In jail -and a steep $50 fine each.
Life beyond those years unfolded in ways unexpected and joy-filled. Larry pauses and shakes his head as he marvels at the swift passage of time -and his many blessings.
He was lucky enough to land a job at Ford Motor Company. He was even luckier to serve as the best man in a wedding in Lima.
The maid of honor was a young woman from Lightsville, Ohio.
Doris (née K.) was “fiesty” and “pretty.”
He was instantly smitten.
The spirited girl, who was raised on a dairy farm, shared his quick wit. Together they enjoyed dancing at Eldora Speedway on the weekends. About tackling the intricacies of Western square dancing, Larry jokes, “If you give me a few beers, I’ll try just about anything.” Together, he and his sweetheart would swing and promenade to “Sally Goodin and a Docey Doe.”
Occasionally Larry and Doris dropped by favorite haunts in his hometown, including Hoyt’s Tavern.
A year-long courtship led to a beautiful wedding at St. John’s in Lima, Ohio Lima. After their reception, they honeymooned in the Pocono Mountains.
The newlyweds then settled into their first residence in the city where they wed. Larry mastered new skills at work as Doris worked 24 hour shifts in labor and delivery.
She was as smart and accomplished as she was beautiful. A nurse anesthetist, she ultimately served both area hospitals.
The couple was blessed with a son -and then a daughter soon after.
One day their young son (perhaps channeling his dad’s adventurous spirit) broke free and took his bike on a solo trip around a big, bustling city block. Larry and Doris were both shaken and decided to chart a move to Ottawa. They wanted to settle where streets were quieter -and their children could experience “the whole kit and caboodle” of small-town life.
They built a place in a Shady Lane, a cozy subdivision on the north end of town. Larry plied his woodworking skills as Doris set about making the house a home.
On those days his wife worked those long hospital shifts, Larry took on the role of “Mr. Mom.”
Their children formed friendships with the neighbor kids -and like their dad, built forts in nearby woods, chased fireflies-and sledded down embankments in the winter.
Their son started a quiet campaign to get his dad to become a scout leader, slipping notes to him in his lunchbox. He succeeded, as Larry started a new chapter.
Their subdivision felt like an extended family. Other moms and dads chipped in, helping cover carpooling duties and offering an added layer of comfort.
Larry and Doris built a good life together, always placing faith and family first. Meal time meant they sat down as a family.
Husband and wife nurtured their children along, encouraging their studies and attending their activities and sports. They camped and traveled as a family -and often visited Gatlinburg, Tennessee where Larry took woodworking classes.
Born into meager circumstances, both Larry and Doris knew they were living the American dream.
Their daughter laughs as she recalls elementary school photos taken on those days when “Mr. Mom” did her hair. Their son remembers feeling restless and anxious on beach vacations when he and his sister endured museum visits.
Life accelerated. Suddenly the children weren’t children anymore. They were pursuing higher education, getting married, and building families and careers of their own.
Larry took early retirement -and Doris followed suit soon after. They busied themselves pursuing their interests. Together they made lasting friendships on their many trips to Holmes County.
Larry, already a master craftsman, retired to his wood shop where he honed his skills by tackling new projects. Of their many trips, perhaps their favorite vacation was an Alaskan cruise.
Blessed with seven grandchildren, the couple enjoyed supporting the newest generation by attending games and other activities.
Life changed.
Quite unexpectedly, Doris, still fit and active, suffered a stroke.
With help from his family, Larry focused on caring for her. That chapter, followed by her passing, was devastating.
Larry mourned but understood he needed to stay busy. His grandchildren were getting married and having babies of their own.
Life had moved on -and he needed to embrace that reality.
He adjusted to being at home alone. His failing eyesight robbed him of his ability to do woodworking -so he bought a scooter and navigated the sidewalks with the same spirit wanderlust he’d once explored the Blanchard.
For lunch and dinner Larry would head out to Wendy’s or Arby’s. The employees knew his name, and he knew theirs.
Most evenings he was content to kick back in his lawn chair as he visited with neighbors and passersby.
When living alone was no longer possible, Larry made The Meadows his home.
The only thing that changed for him has been his address.
This new season has him off visiting, patrolling the hallways, attending Mass, and indulging in well-deserved naps.
Meal time here has become especially animated since Larry arrived. He is both a jokester -and a food critic.
Almost daily, he visits with family. An old friend routinely picks him up for lunches at their favorite eating places.
At almost 86, he is still consciously chasing joy.
Although he’d scoff at the compliment, Larry really is a study in how a positive attitude and good character become muscle memory, directing, grounding, and elevating.
Recently, with his daughter alongside him, Larry walked out to a waiting car. The two were heading to the funeral of a sweet neighbor.
Sans wheelchair and walker, Larry pushed forward, resolute in paying his respects to his contemporary on his own terms. After all, “Netty” was one of the many adults who made life in Shady Lane so wonderful.
If compassion, devotion, and conviction are the true measures of a man, then Larry H. is most certainly a great man.
Life loops around.
The lobby door opens.
Great-grandchildren run to him -or reach out for him to hold.
Larry’s legacy will undoubtedly pay forward in their lives -and in all the lives that this remarkable man impacts.
