Jeff "Slugger" Dibler

As a kid, I don’t think there was a place I looked forward to visiting more than the house on Horton Road. I remember the excitement of getting off the “blue route” and navigating Newtown Square, as streets like Malin Road and Aronimink brought me closer to 3414. As Beth and I rushed inside, the smell of the house brought me to such a peaceful place in my mind that I have never been able to replicate it: “I can get away with anything here and Grandma will still slip me a $20” type of feeling.

Hugs were given as I eyed the “weakness drawer” filled with Reese’s Cups and candy from the mid-70s. The split foyer. Upstairs led to the bedrooms, but more importantly there was a magic portal between upstairs and downstairs known as the laundry chute. Downstairs was the den. Comfy furniture and wood paneling. An aerial shot of Beaver Stadium. The ham radio where you taught me how humans connect around the world. The morse code machine where you taught me daw daw dits.

Back upstairs to the living room where Christmas memories were made. The village and faux snow so carefully laid out that I could imagine what life was like there. The piles of presents laid out by cousins and kids. The Big Bertha golf club and the Red Ryder BB gun. The inevitable Russell Stover.

Pap pap, the magic that you gave my childhood cannot be condensed to a single memory. It’s a flood of happy times and feelings that I’ll cherish forever. Happy 100th.