The Story of Ritter Park

Huntington Quarterly, Summer 1991

The story of Ritter Park is one that has special meaning for me. It was there that I spent much of my childhood. The woods that surround the park itself were my backyard. From behind my parents’ home, you step onto park property and some of the most scenic trails in all of Huntington.

On many an afternoon I could be found making my way up the steep wooded hillside near my home. A small stream cuts through the slope and flows periodically following a rainstorm. At the top of the hill, just beside a pool of water, grow lush green ferns and wildflowers.

If you venture a little higher, you cross over the old, abandoned “Snake Road” and encounter another steep hill. High atop this rise, and barely within viewing distance of the mysterious Ritter Estate, was my second home.

When I was about 11 years old, my best friend and I found some plywood and 2x4s and, under the labor of a hot summer sun, constructed a fort. We found an ideal location and positioned the first sheet of plywood between two trees and built two walls and a roof around it. Later, we waterproofed the small structure and added a lookout post. For the next several years, there wasn’t a season that I didn’t spend time at the fort. In the fall, I watched the colorful leaves descend upon our fortress. When winter arrived, I stomped through the snow to see how the roof was holding up. In the spring, I saw renewed growth on the ground surrounding the lot. In the summer, my friend and I roamed the shaded woods living on crabapples, blackberries and honeysuckle.

It was there that I learned the importance of nature. From that small shack, I walked nearly every inch of the woods. I encountered small cliffs, fallen trees, wild animals and snakes. I remember spending an afternoon absorbed in a calming rainstorm. I sat in the middle of the cool shower for hours, my mind fixated on the sounds of the storm. And ever since that day, when it rains, I am reminded of that feeling.

But perhaps the most important thing I took from those days was the serenity that is found in the silence of the woods. It was there that I first recognized the value of solitude. And it was there, while taking a walk through a winter snowstorm, that I decided to become a writer.

Looking back, I think every child should grow up with a patch of wild woods in his or her backyard. There is so much to learn there – about nature, its power, its beauty, its perils. And there is so much to learn about life. Hopefully, there will always be woods for children to play in – especially at Ritter Park.