Written by Cathy
The funniest memory of Inglenook would be one week my family went there on vacation. The first night there, we were watching TV and the next thing we knew a bat was swooping down on us. We grabbed the doilies off the back of the chairs and ran for the bedrooms. In the morning we called over to Uncle John at Cedar Street. The next night Jimmy, Brian, Dad and I sat on the couch with hat/hoods on our head and fishing net at the ready. As we all expected, the bat came back and after a very funny fight, Brian had the bat in the net.

Two days later there was a story in the paper about a young boy finding a bat in the road about 2 blocks away.

Written by Susan #1
What I remember most about staying at Inglenook was how Grandma was always the first to get up in the morning. She would go to the screened porch to have her tea in peace and quiet before the hordes awoke.

She has always exuded such a sense of peace and serenity that it has a calming effect on all around her.

Written by Anna
One year, Joe, Irene, Pat, Helen and I went to Inglenook for a weekend before it was opened for the season. We discovered a squirrel had gotten in over the winter and had done quite a bit of damage, not the least of which was breaking some of Mom's Hummels from on top of the fire place.

Joe made us all stay on the screened porch while he took care of the "wild animal." We watched him from the dining room windows as he chased the squirrel around and around the room and up and across the rafters with a broom. He was trying so hard to get it out safely without killing it. He finally succeeded, after what seemed like hours, in chasing it out the living room window. I sure wish we had a camera with us!

Written by Joseph III
There was a baseball diamond in the field across from Inglenook. It's still there today. When I was in my late teens I used to take five or six softballs over to the field and self-hit them as far as I could from homeplate. I did this for an hour or so a few times a week.

One day I really got a hold of one and it landed on top of the backstop of the adjoining field. This then became my goal every time out. Some days I'd land one on the backstop and some days I wouldn't. It was a great thrill for me whenever I did it and the practice lasted many years.

I even took my son Douglas there when he was about ten to show him how I used to do it. Unfortunately, that day I didn't reach the top of the backstop. While we were there I told him about the day I hit two balls in a row onto the other backstop.

It was a hot day and I was really working up a sweat trying to land one up there. As I was standing at home plate, Grandpa walked out of Inglenook towards the garage, about to drive off somewhere. He stopped when he saw what I was doing and stood by the fence to watch. Anxious to impress him, I focused all my strength into hitting the ball. POW! I blasted it to the top of the backstop. Grandpa was noticeably impressed and I, while inwardly delirious, outwardly played it cool -as though I always hit them that far. I casually grabbed another ball, twisted my upper body back as far as I could, and cranked another blast that landed within inches of the last shot. Grandpa cheered and said "Wow, what a hitter!"

I've never forgotten that day and never will. (Nor will I ever again hit two in a row to that magical spot.)

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