Carol J. Steele, a long time neighbor and friend

We bought our Lakeside cottage in 1988 and met our wonderful neighbors, the Steeles. We also knew their parents, their children, and their grandchildren and some siblings.

"Carol J. Steele, age 79, of Mentor-on-the-Lake, passed away peacefully on October 8, 2025. Carol was born on April 21, 1946, in Buffalo, New York, to the late Charles and Hazel (née Stevens) Staudt.

A woman of deep faith and community spirit, Carol was an active and lively member of Mentor Plains United Methodist Church for over 40 years. She embodied scripture passages like Ephesians 4, exemplifying her call of humility, gentleness, patience, and love, to all who crossed her path. She dedicated her vibrant energy to many passions, including Sew for Service, her many Bible study groups, and her book club. She also found joy participating in her Parkinson's support group, and loved her work with Mary Kay Cosmetics, empowering others to feel appreciated. Carol adored sweets, knitting, reading, film photography, hosting for the holidays, and sightseeing during her many travels. She was an avid crafter, lifelong learner, dear friend, Lakesider, and lover of life. Her servant's heart affected so many, and will be missed for years to come. Above all, Carol was profoundly dedicated to her family and the Lord, creating a sense of "home" whenever in her presence.

Carol is survived by her devoted, steadfast husband of 57 years, Scott Steele, and their four children: Julie Steele, Eric Steele, Jennifer Eberly, and Brian Steele. She was a cherished grandmother to Alexander, Hunter (McKenzie), Taylor, Isobel, Ian, and Isaac, and a proud great-grandmother to Silas. She is also survived by her siblings: Mary (Creighton), Charles (Sandy), and David (Anya), as well as a host of loving nieces and nephews.

Family and friends are invited to gather for visitation on Friday, October 17, 2025, from 3:00 PM to 7:00 PM at Monreal Srnick Funeral Home, 35400 Curtis Blvd, Eastlake, OH 44095. A Funeral Service will be held on Saturday, October 18, 2025, at 10:00 AM, also at the funeral home. Carol will be laid to rest at Whitehaven Memorial Park."

Greeting the neighbors at 6:30 a.m.

 On my morning walk I noticed a DIY moving truck and my neighbors loading personal belongings into their car.  So I stopped to chat.  They are moving to Florida.  I don't think this is political or financial because they bought a smaller home 4 years ago, and are just hoping for a nice retirement on the beach. Covid and the lockdown messed up their timetable, but now they are on their way.  They've lived there 13 years, and although we've chatted at parties, this was the longest conversation we've had.  I remember it used to be a 4 generation household.  His mother, their daughter and a granddaughter. Now it's just the 2 of them in 3700 sq. ft. But that's a lot of boxes, memorabilia and stuff to move. Safe travels Barry and Kathy.

  

She makes a great pork tenderloin

 So I asked her.  How do you do this?  She told me, but I was on my walk at Lakeside, and had stopped by her house (she was sitting outside reading), so then she texted  me.

Salt, pepper, olive oil, bacon grease/ however you choose to season

> Braise to brown on stovetop
> 400* oven, do not cover
> 20-25 min.
> Done when 145* internal temp./I use a meat thermometer
> Let rest 5-10 min. before slicing.
> Serve & enjoy!

She's a vegan.  But remembers when she wasn't, so she still does a great dinner party. She had put bacon in the coleslaw, so that's how she happened to have the bacon grease. It was yummy too.

This time next year we'll be laughing; a memoir by Jacqueline Winspear

 Our book club met yesterday (via Zoom) to discuss Jacqueline Winspear's memoir.  She is the author of the Maisie Dobbs series, that my husband loves and has read every title on the list.  I've only read a few of them.  Because it was on our 2021-2022 list and he loves her, I bought the book for him as a Christmas gift so I could read it! https://jacquelinewinspear.com/books/this-time-next-year-well-be-laughing/

I didn't find the memoir all that compelling, but what I enjoyed were those memories with which I could identify although I am 15 years older and grew up "across the pond." She is British (now lives in California) and grew up with WWII stories told by her parents and I lived in northern Illinois hearing my parents' stories of the Great Depression.

Two chapters (the book is not linear and each seems to stand alone as if she had written them for a class, and maybe she did) resonated for me--horses and neighbors.  Young Jackie loved horses and wrote about her first encounter in her long relationship, even to this day, with horses.  Sort of like mine.  I remember the day (although not the date) I fell in love with horses.  I think it's memorable because when our family was living on highway 64 in little Mt. Morris I probably never saw a horse except in the movies or in a parade.  My grandparents lived on a farm between Franklin Grove and Ashton, but there were no horses.  When we moved to Forreston in 1946 to a small farm house on the west edge of town there was a fenced 10 acre field right at our back yard that had several horses. I was fascinated; I fell in love. From that day forward I wanted a horse, I dreamed about owning a horse, I drew pictures of horses, I began reading all the horse series like Black Stallion and Marguerite Henry. When I finally got a 2 wheeler bike, it became a horse, at recess during play time I WAS a horse, and when in 1947 we moved to a better home, I became acquainted with the Ranz men, Charlie and Raymond, father and son horse and cattle dealers who had a barn--with horses! When I was old enough to earn my own money, it was saved quarter by dime in my "Marathon" bank (my dad delivered fuel oil for Marathon). How much money can an 8 or 9 year old earn to save for a horse?  By delivering the Rockford Morning Star through the snow and rain, and by babysitting by age 10, apparently a lot. We moved back to Mt. Morris in March 1951, and that summer I babysat for $5/week (a magnificent sum for an 11 year old). Like Jackie's parents, mine had made a promise--I could have a horse if I had enough money. By the time I was in seventh grade I had saved $100.00--about $1,000 in today's value.  I counted several times a week. One day I came home from my babysitting job and there on the railing of our house on Hannah Avenue was a leather, western saddle (not sure about the bridle).  My dad got my old friend Raymond Ranz to look at a horse I wanted--a lovely roan mare my friend Mary Ann owned. He declared her "unsound"-- she had a hip problem which is probably why Mary Ann was selling her. Then dad found a chestnut and white pinto gelding owned by the Orr family who lived a few miles away on the road to Dixon.  I had never seen the horse, but he was bought sight unseen by me, and my dad rode him to our house on Hannah (how he went back for his car I don't know).  And my happy story ends there, because if you ever want to fall out of love with horses, just own one and try to support their upkeep on what a 12 year old can earn!

One of the other stories in her memoir was about her neighbors at the Terrace, one of the places the Winspears lived.  There were the Martins and Jenners who took her to Sunday School (may be the only mention of church in her memoir), Elsie who took care of her own mother, two nosy sisters, the interesting Polly who apparently was a prostitute, Auntie Marion and Uncle Bryn, and Pat and Ken, teachers who had no children of their own. So I immediately wandered back to my old neighborhood on Rt. 64, with the Aufderbecks on one side and the Crowells, Ruth and Earl, on the other. Further down the street were the Ballards, my great grandparents, and the Potters. Behind us were the Rittenhouses, the Zickhurs, the Balluffs, and the Leopolds, plus some others whose names I've forgotten. Mike and Tommy and I would ride our tricycles up and down Hitt St. and around the corner to Mike's house. But I seemed to wander in and out of the houses of the neighbors--don't remember anyone telling me I couldn't. 

 Ruth and Earl had a box of toys that were charming--much more desirable than those I had to share with my siblings.  Ruth made two cloth dolls for me, Blue Doll and White Doll, and I still have White Doll. Earl would actually play with us in the back yard--casting his fishing line for us to catch, although no one could. One of our neighbors was a chicken hatchery, and we were free to walk in and look at the baby peeps, who were just about eye level for a five year old. The Burkes lived across the street and also owned a filling station and auto repair shop.  So I knew women could have careers because Minnie ran the station and repaired cars. Although I didn't know this until she died and I read her obituary, Minnie's brother was married to my Great Aunt. So we were sort of shirt tail relatives.  When Tommy's dad (they lived next to my great grandparents) went hunting or trapping, I'd go down and inspect the skins nailed to boards in the garage.  Tommy's dad had been a famous baseball player, Nelson Potter, so everyone in town knew him. When we grew up Tom was the valedictorian of our class and I was the salutatorian, so we sort of remained friends until his death a few years ago.  He became a professor of philosophy at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nelson_Thomas_Potter_Jr.  He may have been the smartest man to ever leave our little town.  Ruth died in 1950 when she was about 49 from heart problems--I was devastated, and remember to this day that phone call. Earl died in 1965 and I remember waving to him as I walked past the campus where he sat every day with the other old men when I was in high school.  In 1949, my great grandfather died, and we came from Forreston to attend the funeral.  I met people I'd never seen before--all members of my grandmother's family.

 

White Doll in center 

Our Twentieth Anniversary of the fall condo meeting

 Last night the residents of our condo association had its fall business meeting.  It was our 20th anniversary of our first business meeting with our new neighbors (complex of 30 units was built in mid- to late 70s). That first meeting was in the Fishinger Road school and was a potluck.  Some of the people I remember meeting that night who are no longer with us or have moved to a retirement community are Tom Fitzpatrick (and wife), Ohmer and Pat Crowell, Barbara Stradley, Mary and Dan Dunbar, Tom and Judy Wessel, Mac and Marilyn Campbell, Dick Smith, Herb and Ruth Abrams, Kate Haddox, Bill and Jean Baskwell, the Herrolds, Al Gallucci, Dee Cole and her parents.  On September 11, 2001, we all remember what happened, so the bottom also fell out of the real estate market, and our home on Abington was not moving.  We were about to put the condo up for sale, and take our chances.  Fortunately, at Christmas, the daughter and son-in-law of one of the realtors who had shown our home, made and offer, and in January 2002 we were able to move.

This past year, 2021, there were significant changes and repairs--the roofs were replaced with a black shingle (also replaced the first year we were here, so apparently something wasn't done right), the shutters were removed, cleaned, painted and replaced (at about half the cost of buying new), downspouts were replaced, new solar attic fans were installed to replace the old ones, and that all went with the color scheme of the new garage doors that were replaced in 2020. Other years we had all the driveways and the street replaced, or the stone wall along the creek replaced (needs another repair--perhaps next year).  Trees are a huge asset, but a huge cost to maintain to keep them healthy. The refurbishing and new roofs cost about $350,000, and each owner was assessed a share based on their percentage figure.  Some condo associations use an annual upkeep fund where each owner pays in to cover repairs, but ours uses an assessment system. Both systems are legal in Ohio and each year we have to vote to continue our choice.  Most of our neighbors would rather keep their money in investments rather than lose it if they move after 5 years of contributing to the fund if they move out. With our new roofs, clean and painted shutters, new garage doors, and some very close attention by our landscape committee, the place is looking very good. 

First day back at the lake May 22, 2021

We ran into the usual detour on Rt. 4—but every year in a different place, so we get to see something new. This time we were routed through Bellvue on 269. Many people always take that route, but it is 6-7 miles longer. More scenic, however.

Sitting on the porch last evening we saw and talked to as many people in one evening as we would in a week or two in Columbus. Scott and Carol our neighbors next door, Ross our neighbor across the street, both Bob and Martha neighbors half a block south of us, Tom and Lori almost neighbors 2 blocks, Jon and Katie neighbors one block north, and we saw Don, a former neighbor in Columbus who has moved further to the east of us here, out jogging while we ate dinner on the deck. Today I ran into Steve, our neighbor who is a retired antique dealer and getting ready for next week’s sale. Stopped at the Patio Restaurant and bought 4 donuts and saw the owner’s son. Walked to the little grocery store and saw Ray, and got a free cupcake from his granddaughter’s graduation party last night. Yes, there are many people around this week-end.

One block to the east of us is Lynn Avenue, and we found out 3 male neighbors died over the winter. One was going through an incredible remodeling—turning a very modest cottage into something quite spectacular—even moved the house briefly and put in a basement. Our properties almost touch although we’ve only met them at one party when Scott and Carol were celebrating their 50th. So now his widow is left to see this through without him, and he was only 55. Last year it was our street. Our son Phil died, Jan’s niece whom I remember from when she visited as a child, Jon and Katie’s daughter in law, Claude’s wife Brenda across the street, and another neighbor we always spoke to as she walked her dog, but didn't know her name.

Milly and Jack

We live on a beautiful, ravined property with lots of trees between us, the ravine, and the houses on the other side. We've known Milly and Jack, residents on the other side, since they were college age. She was our daughter's confirmation sponsor, (about 38 years ago) so although younger than us, they are now grandparents. Like me, Milly is an early riser, and although it's too far for her to see me, I wave when I see her light on because I know she's reading her Bible.

This past year their deck was being enclosed to make a large inside space--not sure it has a name since they already have a family room and a study. It allows them to be inside while enjoying the outside is the best description I can think of. We couldn't see much of the transition--too many trees, but we know the contractor and could see little figures moving around and could imagine the process. This morning I looked out and the whole addition/house appeared in a blazing light because more leaves have dropped making it visible. I could almost see the outline and complexity of the new space.

That's what our life is now. We see the light, but we're in the dark, and others are out there keeping watch for us.

How do they do it?

As I returned from my 2 mile lakefront walk this morning, I had heard and seen a lot of dogs.  Two of the cutest were the labs, one black and one chocolate, tied at the bike rack and staring at the restroom door in the pavilion. Anxious for their person to reappear with her/his love, acceptance and snacks.  At the corner of 3rd and Poplar dogs in different houses, opposite corners, felt the need to arouse the household just in case I tried to invade.  Young dogs, old dogs, puppies, pretty, ugly and those in training.

But the ones who puzzle me aren’t the dogs necessarily, but my neighbors. She’s late 70s, and he’s in his 80s.  They bought the house across the street about 5 years ago after many years of renting, and they are delightful, helpful neighbors. She makes the most wonderful peach cobbler. She brings me books to read which she has enjoyed.  However, it is a small house and they have a lot of company.

In addition to their own dog, their guests have at least 3, I think.  Plus all the people, four of whom seem to be teen-agers—their grandchildren plus their friends.  Cars, boats, bikes, floats, towels, etc.

We’ve been alone since 1986. I think that much company and that many dogs (one year they had a chicken, and maybe a pet pig), is something one needs to grow in to gradually. Or God has granted them a measure of patience we don’t have.

As I returned from my 2 mile lakefront walk, the largest dog visiting my neighbors—looks like a cross between a standard poodle and Great Dane—began to bark.  It was about 7 a.m.

I stepped on the scale today

It's adding up. Patio donuts—cinnamon, chocolate, vanilla are my favs; peanut butter on toast; cheese on crackers; honey on biscuits; fried potatoes, eggs and sausage for the breakfast special after Sunday services; the pie lady at the Farmer's Market; bowls of ice cream on the porch with friends; hosting a block party; going to the CIC club for brunch with John and Katie; invites to Arlene and Roger’s peach cobbler. Over my adult life I've lost about 130 pounds beginning in college, but usually 20 pounds here and there (1960, 1983, 1986, 1993, 2006, 2015). And the last time, 2015, it was 30 lbs.! and it's time to suck it up, pull it in, and stop having so much fun.

Neighborhood block party, August 3

In August the home owners on our Lakeside street will get together for a pitch in dinner and games, and this year it was our turn.  We had everything set up (top 2 photos), and then it started to rain about 4:30, so we moved a few things inside.  By 5 the rain had stopped, but it was pretty hot, and many chose to stay in the air conditioning.  We had 20 people in our little house/yard/deck counting us (one neighbor brought their friends from Indianapolis who were visiting), and I served sweet/sour (meatball recipe) sloppy joes on buns, and the guests brought fruit plate, vegetable plate, chips, cookies and brownies—all finger food so we’d have minimal clean up. We broke up about 7:15 so everyone had time to get to Hoover to see Point of Grace, a trio of Christian women who had replaced the original program, Sandi Patty. https://www.thoughtco.com/point-of-grace-biography-709697

Baking powder

Yesterday my neighbor asked me if I had any baking powder—she wanted to make a coffee cake.  So I went to the kitchen cupboard and got out the Ziploc bag with flour, baking powder and baking soda.  I told her I thought it was several years old, and she should just use more.  After she made it and it cooled, she brought over four pieces and returned the can.

Today I needed to borrow a pizza pan, so I went over to her house, and she gave me a new can of baking powder so I could throw the old one out.  Which I did.  But first I removed the price sticker so I could see the use by date on the bottom of the can.  November 1996.

We could all do more

Yesterday in Bible study, Pastor Jeff mentioned that if all Christians contributed a tithe, there would be no need for government programs. The average, he said, is 2%.
 
Our niece Joan, who is one of the most compassionate, level headed women I know (teaches first grade) mentioned on Facebook yesterday:

"So a 10 year old girl rang the door bell selling hand drawn pictures for $.50. Taking a minute to inquire why they were trying to sell the pictures, we learned that grandma and grandpa didn’t have any food and there are four children staying there. Packed a sack from my pantry and freezer took down to their house and then made a Walmart run. Sometimes we need to take a minute and listen, and find out the needs of others."

Indeed. Yet I also think it's a great idea that the grandchildren wanted to chip in and help and chose the only way they knew.

When you gotta go. . .

There's construction going on by city workers on our property to repair a culvert. The porta potty is sitting on the sidewalk because there is a steep drop off there and no place for it to sit level. My husband was taking a walk yesterday when a woman jogger flew past him. When she got to the potty, she stopped, opened the door, and used it.

Update:  Yesterday (Oct. 14) I went for a walk and at the drive way met a neighborhood (St. Tim's) woman (named Kathryn) pushing a double wide stroller with her grandchildren.  We stopped to chat because she was catching her breath after the uphill walk.  So I began to help her push the stroller and we walked about a mile until she turned east.  We had a wonderful time.  Later my husband went out for a walk and met the same woman who was then returning the children to their home a mile or so the other direction.  He talked to her a few minutes, and then saw her approach the porta potty and stop.  One of the children needed to go.

Bill, the WWII veteran

Before the heat became unbearable,  I was on my walk in the apartment complex close by, and he was on his walker. I stopped to chat with him and found out he was born in 1925 and enlisted when he was 17. "I wasn't afraid to die, but I was afraid I might not be able to do what I was trained to do." He was on a destroyer, manning incredibly complex equipment--before he ever had a driver's license. He injured his hip in the war, and later in life broke it, so thus he's on a walker. The complex where he lives is beautiful and I like to walk there, but rarely meet anyone. Lucky me.

Sweet little Baxter

It was 68 degrees at 7 a.m. so I've already had two walks in the air that won't get cooler. This may be the day we turn on the AC.  I stopped to talk to and pet a sweet neighbor dog that is dying, but still cheerful, also out for a short walk. We've known him since puppy hood and we remember the day they brought the little fluff ball home almost 13 years ago.  We will miss him. My husband was the dog walker for their football game days, so we've gotten to know him. He's had a great life--well loved, well traveled, and a faithful guard who barked at us when we came to "his" house.

Some people say their pet is "just like family."  Not me. But we can love them anyway--we can even love the neighbor's.  http://collectingmythoughts.blogspot.com/2006/05/2435-on-loving-our-pets-youre-going-to.html

Monday Memories--I was a stranger and you invited me in

After Dad returned from the service after WWII he was assigned a new territory by Standard Oil, and he moved our family to Forreston, Illinois in 1946. Poor Mom! Housing was scarce and the old farm house Dad bought didn’t have a bathroom and the indoor water was a pump in the kitchen. I was only 6 and thought it was a great adventure--horses in the pasture next door, a new puppy, a different school and new friends.

Our next door neighbor, Helen Vietmeier, was beautiful, kind, gentle and soft spoken. Her family lived in a lovely home where I often visited and played. Although I didn’t usually call adults by their first name, she was always Helen to me which is what her lovely teen-age daughters Doris and Betty Jo called her. Helen reached out to the strangers in that shabby house and invited our family to the Lutheran church, one of three Protestant churches in the town of 1,000 settled by Germans in the 1850s.

Although we were members of the Church of the Brethren 15 miles away in Mt. Morris and remained “visitors” the five years we attended, we children participated in everything--choir, Bible school, Sunday School, plays for special events like Mother’s Day and Christmas pageants, and those wonderful Lutheran pot lucks. Because we were so young, we effortlessly learned the liturgy, difficult hymns, the creed and the Lord’s Prayer through regular Sunday attendance. When I didn’t understand Pastor Hersch’s sermons I would look at the amazing stained glass windows for which 19th century members had sacrificed. My sisters and I were all baptised in our former church, and they also attended confirmation classes at the Lutheran church. My oldest sister began her career as a church musician on the organ at little Faith Lutheran. We returned to our home community and church in 1951 after Dad owned his own business, and I didn’t see Helen again until my mother’s funeral almost 50 years later.

In 1975 we’d been living in Upper Arlington for 8 years. I heard about a speaker who was going to be at Upper Arlington Lutheran Church, so I decided to attend. I was a stranger and didn‘t know anyone, but I sat next to Dottie Wharton who invited me to attend services with her and a neighborhood Bible study at Denise Kern’s home. About a year later on Palm Sunday 1976, we were confirmed by Luther Strommen and joined UALC. I felt right at home.

Praise God for believers who reach out to strangers to extend a welcome and the Gospel. And praise God that the stranger is being Christ to the believer.

Friday Family Photo

Yesterday the WSJ ran a parenting article about overscheduling children in their summer activities. In my mind's eye I replayed the dozen or so summers I remember when I was a child--they seemed to run forever--hot, hazy and relaxed with hours of finding shapes in the clouds and bugs in the grass and bubbles in the tarred streets for bare toes.

At first I couldn't imagine my mother managing my summers for me, but looking back I realize she was quietly (she was always quietly doing something) planning my schedule. In Forreston I attended summer recreation program at the community school for games, swimming and sports. From age 11-16 I attended summer camp at Camp Emmaus. In elementary school I had babysitting jobs; in high school I detasseled corn, worked at the drug store, at a feed company and the town library. I had a horse, or my friends did, and we rode them down hot, dusty roads. After age 14 I was dating and going on picnics at the Pines, to the roller rink, to movies out of town and locally. My church CBYF had weekly Sunday evening meetings; my girl friends and I had slumber parties; the town had summer band concerts (still does) where you bought bags of popcorn and hoped to see someone special even if you didn't hear a note; and there were 4-H projects to get ready for the county fair. And the projects Mom would invent to keep us busy! Gardening, canning, cleaning, cooking, sewing, laundry. Oh my! That could cut into a sleepy summer day's reading.

Obviously, this is not a summer photo, but my mother's camera broke around 1945 and we don't have many pictures of my childhood. There was no extra money to get it fixed, she once told me. I thought hanging upside down was just about the most fabulous trick, and it was performed on our back yard slide on Hitt Street in Mt. Morris. The two board and batten barns you see in the background were actually garages, but in those days, many barns from an earlier era had been converted. We had a "real" garage, one side for us and one side for our neighbors, the Crowells. The barn nearest in the photo was behind Mike Balluff's and Dick Zickuhr's homes, and the one further away I think was behind Doug Avey's house or possibly the Aufterbecks. At the left edge I think I can see a chicken coup. There were no horses in town, but a lot of people still had a few chickens for fresh eggs.

There are no leaves on the trees, and I'm wearing a coat, head scarf, and slacks which must mean it was cold. Little girls only wore slacks if it was really cold--the rest of the time we were in dresses. The coat was probably a hand-me down from one of my sisters. I think it was navy blue, double breasted with large white buttons, most likely made by my mother.

So maybe childhood schedules aren't so different. What do you think?