SUMMIT COUNTY

“High Holidays” /  8-10 December 2023

Before planning a county trip, I sometimes play a quick word association game to discover what I already know about the county, or, more accurately, what I think I know.  When it came to Summit County, and its dominant city of Akron, the words were mostly names: LeBron James, Chrissie Hynde, Devo, and The Black Keys.  “Rubber” also made the list.  

Strangely, “hills” did not pop into my head.  So, I was caught a little off guard after entering the county along State Route 261 and nearing the county seat, when I noticed the grading becoming more pronounced.  That was due to obtuseness on my part as all the clues were right there in the names.  When created in 1840 from portions of the neighboring counties of Portage, Medina, and Stark, Summit was so named for being the highest elevation on the recently completed Ohio & Erie Canal.  Akron is adapted from a Greek word meaning “high point.”  Duh!

In downtown Akron, we stashed our car in the South High Street parking garage directly across from the county courthouse.  The current structure is the county’s second courthouse, constructed between 1905-1908 in a Second Renaissance Revival style.  Not much stands out from its steel, concrete, and sandstone façade.  The windows on the first floor have round arches while those on the second floor are framed vertical rectangles.  The two seated lion sculptures facing each other across the lawn in front of the courthouse are said to represent “the law’s majesty.”

We walked down Church Street, and I do mean down.  It’s the kind of street where parked cars had better have good emergency brakes and their front wheels turned toward the curb.  Remember: hilly!

South on Main Street, we stepped into The Lockview restaurant.  Opened in 2007, the eatery specializes in gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches.  The vibe is casual and the staff are friendly.  Michele ordered the “#1, American cheese melted to perfection on Texas toast,” while I went with the “#4, Mozzarella cheese, sun-dried tomato pesto, arugula, and a sprinkle of parmesan cheese on rustic Italian bread.”  To class up the sandwiches, each came with a fancy cocktail umbrella stuck in the center.  The beer selection was also good with a pleasant variety on tap.  I opted for Toppling Goliath’s Holidotz, the Iowa brewery’s annual holiday lager containing cranberry, apples, and cinnamon.  Michele saw a 1911 cranberry cider was available and so was swayed in that direction.  The meal helped get the county trip off on the right foot.

Without knowing any better, we thought we’d do some shopping after lunch, checking out the stores along Main Street.  The problem was there really weren’t any.  It was mostly bars and restaurants.  The area is probably thought of more as an entertainment district.  The west side of the street features some popular venues and gathering spots including the Akron Civic Theatre. Built in 1929, it’s an example of a classic downtown theater that’s been restored to continue providing an inviting event space for the city. (We’ll be returning there in June of 2024 to see Bonnie Raitt perform.)

Next door to the theater is the Lock 3 Park, which, I’m sure, will be a beautiful green space for outdoor concerts once its renovation is completed, but all we could see of the construction zone was earth-moving equipment and lots of dirt.

Another block south sits Canal Park, the home stadium for the Akron RubberDucks, a Double-A affiliate baseball team of the Cleveland Guardians.  Being December, the team was between seasons, but we peered through the metal gates and could see how attractive the facility was.

We took a turn at East Exchange Street looking for some caffeine and a place to hang out.  We found Evelyn’s Coffee, a below-street-level shop specializing in Vietnamese coffee and sandwiches.  With a nod to the season, I ordered a pumpkin spice latte.  We frittered away some time playing gin.

Returning to Main Street, we turned north and walked up the side of the street we’d missed coming down.  I’m calling it “Main Street,” but the stretch between Exchange Street and Market Street also goes by the Biblical-sounding “King James Way.”  Akron’s mayor thought it a fitting honor in 2016 to name it for LeBron James after the Akron native helped lead the Cleveland Cavaliers to the team’s first NBA title.

Another element of Akron’s identity is memorialized in the roundabout at Main and Mill Streets.  A 15-foot bronze sculpture known as The Akron Rubber Worker Statue was installed in 2021. For much of the 20th century, Akron was known as the rubber capital of the world when the four major tire companies (B.F. Goodrich, Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company, Firestone Tire and Rubber Company, and General Tire & Rubber Company) were all based there.  In the 1970s and ‘80s however, the companies took turns closing their tire production plants in Akron and currently, only Goodyear is still headquartered in the city.

The rest of our day was ruled by time-ticketed events, so we returned to our car and drove away from the downtown on West Market Street and then north on Portage Path to the tony part of town.  Our goal was Stan Hywet Hall & Gardens, a large 70-acre estate encompassing a four-story, 64,500-square-foot, Tudor Revival manor house.

First, some facts, so that all youse knuckleheads don’t embarrass yourselves.  Stan Hywet is not the name of a person, so don’t try acting all know-it-all by inquiring for personal details of “Stanley” Hywet.  That would be akin to asking, “Oh, by the way, which one's Pink?”  The grounds – originally 3,000 acres in size – belonged to Frank Seiberling, co-founder of the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company, and his wife Gertrude.  Their "American Country Estate" was built between 1912-1915 and was named Stan Hywet (pronounced “stan HEE'wit”), an Old English phrase loosely translated to mean "stone quarry" or "stone hewn," to reflect the abandoned rock pits once located on the grounds.

In 1957, the surviving Seiberling children donated the estate to a non-profit group formed for the purpose of preserving it.  It is now a National Historic Landmark and is open to the public (for an admission charge), which is in keeping with the Latin inscription above the entrance to the manor house, "Non nobis solum," meaning "Not for us alone." (There must not have been enough space to add whatever is Latin for, “But an additional fee for everyone else.”)

Popular seasonal functions are offered to add some fun to a visit.  We were glad we pre-ordered a couple of 3:30 pm tickets to the “Deck the Halls” event because it had sold out by the time of our arrival. The grounds were illuminated with 1.2 million lights and the rooms of the house were adorned with 26 Christmas trees and other festive decorations.  Of course, Santa was on hand for photo ops, too.  It all helped us get into the holiday spirit.

We were free to self-tour the estate and see how the power elite of the early 20th century lived.  It’s pretty much like the rest of us live, but with more of everything.  Perhaps your home has a fireplace.  Stan Hywet has 23.  Hand-carved paneling of oak, sandalwood. and black walnut abounds.  During one of their European shopping excursions, the Seiberlings came across a 17th century house being razed, so they had one of the room’s wainscoting shipped home for use in one of their bedrooms.  As one does.  I must admit, it was all quite gorgeous.  It’s hard to stand under the 475-pound chandelier that hangs from the vaulted ceiling in the Great Hall and not be impressed and feel a sense of awe.

The outdoor gardens and tree-lined walkways were equally grand.  Colored lights twisting around branches added a nice seasonal touch as did the outline of three large swans-a-swimming created from white lights. (Shouldn’t there have been seven?) It was just becoming dusky as we strolled outside, so the lights were just beginning to make an impression.  Another visiting couple asked us to take their picture with their smartphone.  They then offered to return the favor so I handed them my digital camera, explaining they couldn’t make any calls on it.  

We could have lingered longer, but were on a bit of a schedule, so we had to keep moving.

Back in the car we drove east for about 2 ½ miles on Memorial Parkway and West Tallmadge Avenue before increasing our speed on State Route 8 northbound.  Summit County is a tall drink of water and our next destination was up near its lip.  We exited at Boston Mills Road under inky black skies and followed it, Olde 8 Road, and Brandywine Road to the Inn at Brandywine Falls.  The Inn sits in the middle of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park and is serviced by a private lease coordinated by the National Park Service.

We were greeted by Vicki, the friendly innkeeper, who took over duties earlier in the year from Katie and George Hoy, the proprietors who signed the original lease in 1987.  The Hoys renovated the old farm house into an inviting bed-and-breakfast.  George passed away in 2018, but 93-year-old Katie was still around and we were able to say hello to her, too.

Vicki led us to our room, the James Wallace Parlor, named for the first resident of the house (along with his wife Adeline) after it was built in 1848.  The comfy en-suite accommodation is one of five room choices on a property that is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  We only had about 30 minutes to drop our bags and exhale before heading back out on the road.

After another half hour of navigating dark, unfamiliar routes, we found Oak Hill Road and Hale Farm & Village, a living history museum run by the Western Reserve Historical Society.  For the 28th year, they were presenting Holiday Lantern Tours.  Our tickets allowed us into the 7:20 pm group of about 15-20 people.  

The 90-minute self-guided tour sent us back to the year 1845. We were given candle lanterns and instructed to walk the grounds in search of five lighted homes.  In each, we were greeted by period actors representing various immigrant groups who introduced us to their holiday traditions.  Our first stop was the General Store where two Jewish sisters entertained us with humorous banter.  They also gave one of the young boys in our group an opportunity to spin a dreidel and win a present.

The next stop was a home belonging to a group of young women of Swedish and Icelandic origin who told stories from the Old Country.  One of them took a special glee when recounting Grýla, an ogress with an appetite for the flesh of mischievous children, and the Yule Cat, a vicious giant feline who roams the countryside during Christmas time and eats people who haven’t received any new clothes to wear before Christmas Eve. (?!)

At the Meeting House, a trio of actors were practicing a recitation of “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King,” a tale written by the Prussian E.T.A. Hoffman in 1816.  It was a familiar story, but with some weird and dark scenes involving mice.  The tale would eventually get cleaned up in Alexander Dumas’ 1844 revision, from which Tchaikovsky’s 1892 ballet was taken, but those latter two versions weren’t yet popularized in 1845.

In the following house, we found a couple of Italian siblings who told us of La Befana, an old witch from Italian folklore who flies around Italy on a broom on Epiphany Eve dropping off toys to good children and lumps of coal to those who have been naughty.  (Hmm, why does this one sound very familiar?)

Our last stop was the home of three English sisters who enjoyed singing carols.  They elicited our group to join in.  One of them, in her zeal to encourage our participation, forgot what year it was.  “Don’t worry,” she said, “you’re not on camera.”  After an awkward moment, she recovered with, “What’s a camera?”

With our tour completed and lanterns clanking in the night, our group returned to the 21st century and to the Gatehouse for a complimentary cookie and hot cocoa.

We followed a different route back to our Inn, via the village of Peninsula, but were conscious of how fast we were driving.  We’d been warned it was a speed trap.  During a six-month period earlier in the year, the village gave out 8,900 citations and took in $560,000 in revenue.  That’s not bad for a community of 536 residents whose annual budget is about $1 million.  And to kick a speeder when they’re down, the court institutes a mandatory $100 fee if the ticket is contested.  What a racket!

Back in our room at the Inn, we tucked ourselves in after an active day.  A sleep machine on one of the bedside tables provided a choice of white noise to help us drop off.  Our first night’s selection of “tropical rain” left me with the impression that the guests in the room above us were taking a very long shower.

The following morning, we pulled up at the dining room table at 8:30 am for our appointment with a complimentary breakfast.  We joined two other couples, roughly our age.  One of them hailed from Maryland while the other lived in Florida, but were native Buckeyes from Toledo.  We made polite conversation over our 3-course meal. First, we were served a yoghurt parfait sprinkled with granola, followed by a Nutella-filled pastry shaped like a Christmas tree, and finishing with a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes formed like a gingerbread man or tree.  There was also coffee, just how I like it: black and plentiful!

As soon as we stepped out of the house, we could hear the namesake waterfalls.  They’re just a hop, skip and a jump down a paved path from the Inn.  It’s also the same distance if you stroll, which is what we did.  At about 60 feet high, Brandywine Falls don’t qualify as the tallest in the state by a long shot, but the constant force of water that tumbles over its wedding cake-like terrace make it one of the most reliably picturesque cascades in Ohio.  Even with the overcast skies that were plaguing the morning, the site made for an extremely attractive background as evidenced by the high schooler who was having some senior photos taken while we visited.

From the Inn, we drove back the way we’d come the night before along Old 8 Road and West Streetsboro Road to return to Peninsula.  Again, we kept an eagle eye on our speedometer.  A store in town called Trail Mix was recommended to us.  It caters to folks using the Ohio & Erie Canal Towpath Trail which hugs the Cuyahoga River as it passes through town.  Proceeds from sales directly support Cuyahoga Valley National Park programs.  We made a few small purchases.

We wondered if we had time-traveled when we caught another customer paying for her items with a personal check.  Not that I have room to throw any stones of shade considering that I still use a landline phone with an answering machine in my glass house.  At least she wasn’t attempting to barter for her purchase.

We drove south out of town on Locust Street, but not a mile over the posted 25 m.p.h. limit.  A short distance later, we turned left on Truxell Road which led us to the entrance of the Ritchie Ledges, an area of compelling rock formations within the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.  As the story goes…

About 315-320 million years ago, the area was steamy swamp. Periodically fast-moving streams dropped sand and pebbles here. Over time, this material was compacted into rock called Sharon Sandstone and Conglomerate. Erosion has carved the rock into the forms you see today.

We hiked a 2.6-mile lollipop loop that began as a stem from the parking lot before circumnavigating an oblong trail.  The route passes a dramatic overlook, the bases of cliffs, and a variety of rock configurations.  It made for a good leg-stretcher, but was marred by a woman walking her part-pitbull canine bully that leaped at Michele as we passed.  It scratched at her jeans, but fortunately didn’t do any deeper damage.  The owner apologized.  I waited for the ubiquitous, “He’s never done that before,” but it never came, which probably means he HAS done it before.  Come on, people, curb your dog when out in public spaces!

We left the park and continued east, but the way had changed its name to Kendall Park Road.  After passing under State Route 8, we turned south onto Sullivan Road and continued in that direction after a dogleg onto Seasons Road and Allen Road.  A mile and a half later, we merged onto Hudson Drive continuing to parallel Route 8 like a slower little brother.  When we spotted an old red barn on the west side of the road, we pulled off in front of it.  The small gable-roofed barn was built sometime before 1900.  There was nothing distinguishing about it from the Hudson Road side, but on its west side, facing the highway’s northbound lanes, the remnants of the Ohio Bicentennial logo could still be seen.  When applied in 2002, it was Scott Hagan’s 77th barn painting in honor of the state’s 200th birthday.  The logo and red background have since chipped and faded, but are still visible.

Just a few miles south of the barn, we cruised into Cuyahoga Falls, the county’s second largest city.  We parked on Front Street and popped into The Social Dept., a shop specializing in custom handprinted apparel, and Falls Outdoor Company, offering all manner of hiking, camping, and kayaking equipment.  We boosted the local economy by purchasing a long-handled toasting fork at the latter.

Our real destination though was HiHO Brewing, a friendly brewpub with a vast and tasty selection of crafted adult beverages.  Jon and Ali Hovan opened the establishment seven years ago and based its name on the greeting their nieces often gave to Jon.  To them, he was Uncle Ho, so “Hi, Ho” was a common salutation. It’s also a fun play on our state’s name.

Besides having great beer, an ideal brewpub should offer a comfortable and accepting environment for all to unwind, socialize, and relax.  HiHO ticked all those boxes.  We should have ordered flights to sample as many beers as possible (next time!), but we each ended up selecting a single pint.  Michele’s Hi Ho Ho Ho Holiday Ale was partway between a holiday and a brown ale.  My Hi Hazy Ho IPA had a pleasant fruity aroma along with that desirable creaminess that comes with a fine hazy beer. 

A good brewpub can be a dangerous place because once you settle in and kick back, you don’t want to leave.  Unfortunately, a full county trip forces you to keep moving, so after a shortened respite, we were back in the car and returning south to Akron.  

Friends had recommended an eclectic store called The Bomb Shelter, located on Bank Street in the near east Middlebury neighborhood.  Its entrance is guarded by a 10-foot tall bomb shell on one side (not Marilyn Monroe, but an actual military shell!) and a large nuclear fallout shelter sign on the other.  The giant warehouse is a combination antique store and kitschy emporium.  Examples of finds include vinyl records, midcentury furniture, vintage glassware, toys from your childhood, and doodads and knickknacks your grandparents probably acquired by cashing in S&H Green Stamps. You can also find S&H Green Stamps.  

Stepping back to the future in the “garage” section of the store, where old road signs vie for space with rusty oil cans, one stumbles upon a 1981 DeLorean.  Put your wallet away though, because it’s not for sale; it’s “for display only.”

We didn’t buy anything and were able to escape with the same amount of brass in pocket as when we entered.  The overcast skies were beginning to darken further as dusk approached.  There were still a couple of outdoor sites I wanted to photograph so we quickly pushed on.  We drove southeast on Market Street and then south on Hilbish Avenue to get us in the vicinity of the Akron Municipal-Fulton Airport.  

On its fringe, on the appropriately-named Derby Downs Drive, we found the Derby Downs Track, where the Soap Box Derby has held its annual competition since 1936.  Big red letters spell out “Derby Downs” on its exterior.  Race Week occurs in late July, so there wasn’t anything happening during our visit.  However, there’s an active BMX course nearby, so motor bikes were zipping all about.

Also nearby is the Lockheed Martin Airdock.  You can’t get up close to it, but it’s so big, you don’t need to.  Built in 1929 as the Goodyear Zeppelin facility, it was designed for the construction and storage of lighter-than-air ships including the famous Goodyear Blimp.  It contains one of the largest open space interiors in the world, covering more than 364,000 square feet of floor space.  It’s considered a National Civil Engineering Landmark and was created with eleven steel parabolic arches, cresting at 211 feet. Only one of the arches is fixed to its concrete piling.  Not being an engineer, I don’t totally understand the implications, but it sounds damn impressive!  The federal government thought so, too, adding the structure to its National Register of Historic Places in 1973.

Any semblance of daylight was quickly disappearing in direct proportion to our increasing hunger.  We hadn’t eaten since our breakfast at the Inn, so we made our way back to the central part of town and found Luigi’s Restaurant on North Main Street.  The Italian eatery has been around since 1949, so we thought it would be worth checking out.  Unfortunately, a horde of other people had the same idea.  There was a long line of people out the door waiting to get in and it was only 4:30 pm.  WTF?!  We drove on.

Nearby on West Market Street, we pulled into the parking lot of the Diamond Grille.  A retro neon sign identifies the business.  The brick and tile building stands alone on the block and looks a little down in the mouth.  A stranger might be excused for thinking it was only a hole-in-the-wall locals bar.  On the contrary though, hidden inside is an iconic steak and seafood restaurant.

We arrived shortly before its doors opened at 5:00 pm.  Other early diners waited in their cars.  After a silent signal, everyone headed for the entrance in the rear of the building.  Once inside, the hostess asked if we had a reservation and we feared a shutout.  Fortunately, after seating all the other diners who were smart enough to call ahead, she was able to find us a corner table that had a 6:30 pm reservation.  As long as we could be in and out in 90 minutes, it was ours.

The Diamond Grille, open since 1935, is a throwback restaurant that exudes a timeless charm as inviting to customers when it first opened as it is today.  Its subdued lighting and white tablecloths & napkins added an classy ambiance, both upscale and illicit.  I had an odd feeling that if I listened hard, I might hear Tony Soprano at a nearby table talking about “waste management.”

There are a few things to be aware of when visiting the Diamond Grille.  First, reservations are strongly advised.  Second, payment is cash only!  There’s an ATM on the premises, but I’d guess fees might rival the usury rates Tony might offer.  When we read on the menu about the cash requirement, we quickly checked our holdings and figured that we’d have just enough.  And one last point, be precise regarding your order.  I asked for the filet mignon, but failed to specify its size.  Rather than the 6 oz. steak I was expecting, I was served the larger “Royal.” It was so delicious I can’t really complain.  It was a touch more expensive though, requiring me to reach into my emergency stash of cash in the hidden zippered compartment of my belt. (Keep this information to yourself, please.  I wouldn’t want to get rolled for it some late night.)

Michele ordered a Boston strip steak.  Each entrée came with a salad.  We also had a couple glasses of the house cabernet.  Every facet of our Diamond Grille meal was excellent.

After dinner as we drove back to our lodging, I noticed the sky was extraordinarily dark, making it feel much later than it was.  Back at the Inn, we lounged in the common area where a Christmas tree took center stage. Ribbons and lights and other festive decorations adorned the room.  We poured ourselves complimentary coffees and relaxed.  With music playing, I jotted down some notes of the day’s events while Michele wrote out some Christmas cards.  Innkeeper Vicki joined us for a while.

When it was time to head to bed, we turned our white noise sleep machine to the “night train” setting.  It sounded like a cross between a never-ending locomotive and a fetal ultrasound.

The following morning, we once again joined the Florida couple for breakfast, but the Marylanders were replaced by a husband and wife from Dayton who were celebrating a wedding anniversary.  Another polite conversation ensued over another elegantly presented and tasty breakfast.  We then chilled for a while in our room until the 11 am checkout time forced us on the road.

It was a nippy, overcast morning as we drove back to Akron.  Other than the houses of worship, there wasn’t much action happening in the downtown.  We cruised along South High Street and found a free spot to park.  Our destination was the Akron Museum of Art, which is where I momentarily left Michele while I ran down a couple other nearby landmarks.

The first was the Carnegie Building on the northeast corner of High and Market Streets.  It’s currently occupied by the law firm of Brennan, Manna & Diamond, LLC, but when it was built in 1904, it was to house the Akron Public Library.  It was made possible by an $82,000 donation from Andrew Carnegie.  Local architect Frank O. Weary designed it in the Beaux Arts Classicism style.

A block further north is the Sojourner Truth Building which houses the United Way of Summit County.  It’s named in honor of the former slave who became an outspoken advocate for abolition, temperance, and civil and women's rights.  She visited Akron in 1851 and delivered an extemporaneous speech to the Ohio Women’s Convention at the Old Stone Church, the building that then occupied the site.  There’s been subsequent debate over the actual words she used, but there’s been no denying the impact those words had.  It became known as the “Ain’t I a Woman” speech and was meant to promote the idea that women, black or white, should be treated as equal to men and have the same rights.  An historical marker commemorates Truth and her most famous speech.

I retraced my steps back to Michele and joined her in the lobby of the Akron Art Museum, a structure that combines traditional and modern elements.  In 1981, the museum moved its collection into an 1899 building that once held the city’s main post office.  Its red brick façade was an example of Italian Renaissance Revival style.  In 2007, an addition to the museum opened.  It’s a style I would describe as Futuristic Hodge-Podge.  One enters the lobby in the section known as the Crystal, where 57-foot tall steel and glass portions allow plenty of light through its slanted ceiling.  Next to it is the Gallery Box, a large cantilevered enclosure sheathed in an aluminum skin.  Above it all are wings of steel beams wrapped in aluminum grating.  It’s “Architecture as Art” as a museum brochure describes it.  

The museum’s collection contains paintings, sculpture, and photography, as well as other media, from 1850 to the present.  I wasn’t particularly blown away by any of the pieces, but found the museum to be of a manageable size, so I was through its many galleries before becoming bored.

One canvas I was drawn to though, was titled, “As Moses Sat Upon His Throne, Two Aliens Attacked Ancient Rome!”  It came as no surprise to me that its creator, Daryl Trivieri, used to work as a science fiction illustrator.  The 5.5 x 7-foot acrylic painting mashes together seemingly incongruous themes.  A bearded Moses looks on as amorphous creatures shoot light beams toward an angry housecat with angelic wings.

In another gallery, I found a work by Cuban-born artist Felix Gonzalez-Torres consisting of a collection of green-and-white cellophane-wrapped candies covering the corner floor of the room.  The placard on the adjoining wall instructed, “Please feel free to take candy from this installation.”  The candies are replenished as needed.  I’m normally hesitant about eating sweets found on the floor of a public building, but for the sake of art, I was willing to make an exception.  Various interpretations have been given to this work, from “representation of the deterioration of a human body ravaged by illness” to “immortality generated through ritual remembrance and continual restoration.”  I found it to be minty.  

Our tour of the museum ended with a special exhibition: “RETOLD: African American Art & Folklore.”  It featured pieces from the Wesley and Missy Cochran Collection and represented over 40 artists each expressing their own truth of the African American experience.  A quote by Wes Cochran regarding the collecting of African American art was posted at the beginning:

The biggest change I’ve seen is just the attention and the spotlight that African American artists are getting.  We wouldn’t be having this conversation in 1988.  Nobody was looking.  Camille Billops, our curator and one of our favorite artists, always said, ‘You need to collect where no one else is looking.’”

Before leaving, we made a quick sweep through the museum gift shop.  I was tempted by a limited edition print signed by Mark Mothersbaugh, but we already have more wall hangings than wall space in our apartment, so I let it slip away.

We returned to our car and pointed it west, leaving Akron and the county on the same state route we entered them by.  Our weekend had been full, but I knew we were leaving a lot of sites on the table.  Portage Lakes State Park in the south of the county would have provided some pleasant shoreline strolling.  The historic 1825 Tallmadge Church in the east is said to be an architectural landmark.  The National Museum of Psychology on the campus of the University of Akron was recommended to us.  There were a couple of cool record stores we missed as well as an intoxicating array of microbreweries.  We could have driven past Jeffrey Dahmer’s boyhood home or visited the newly opened LeBron James Museum.  There was just too much to pick from.  Like a good entertainer, Summit County left us wanting more.  As we exited the county on State Route 261, the common refrain of the traveler echoed in my head: “Next time…next time.”

Time spent in the county: 49 hours, 48 minutes

Miles driven in the county: 145