149 Palmer Street, Akron, Ohio, was a labor of love, many tears and sorrow, sweat and lost sleep. To recall the heyday of growing up in the largest rubber manufacturing center in the world (Firestone, Goodyear and Goodrich), with a loving family and a host of relatives and friends brought back the sounds, sights and sweet smell of athe bakery, a the wafting fragrance of beer brewing at Burkhardtas Brewery, and that ever-present scent of rubber that we all took for granted. aWhatas that smell?a a visitor would ask. It was just there. During the period of the 1940’s and early 1950’s, Akron seemed to be far from the ethnic and cultural strife encountered in many communities. At least, this writer was unaware of anything but a seemingly idyllic existence. Central Akron was my place. The wonderful friends and classmates made Akron, Ohio, a time to fondly remember.