The Jacobs Clan: Our History
The Jacobs Clan got its start the way most clans do, with grandparents. The Jacobs side of our family got its start from Gleason and Florence. They both have passed on but are survived by their son Gleason, and daughters Janet and Betty. The other side of our family got its start from George and Mary Hengle. Our Grandfather Hengle has passed but our Grandmother Mary, bless her heart, is still active and doing well. She’ll be 95 this year. They had two daughters (Joan and Jean) and three sons (George, John and Bob).
Our future (the Jacobs sibs) started when Joan Hengle and Gleason Jacobs met in 1955 at a diner she worked at when they were in their late teens. We weren’t around yet but I would imagine there was most likely some strong gazing, idle chit chat, heavy breathing then Cupid’s arrow. They were engaged the following April and exchanged vows in the fall of 1956 during a double wedding ceremony they shared with my mom’s twin sister Jean and her husband John. I popped in the following summer in 1957.
From the perspective of the eldest sibling, my earliest memories go back to when we lived on Wheeler Street in Akron, Ohio. Mom said we moved there in 1958, the same year my sister Mary was born. I remember once walking to St Bernard’s church with my mom one cold ass Sunday. I remember when Wheeler Street easily connected with Exchange by zig-zagging just a block or two and where St Bernard’s still is. That was a long walk for a little dude. Now that I think about it, it was probably that walk that eventually turned me off of religion. 
I also remember moving days. They were big events for a little kid. I didn’t think it was possible but, after talking to my grandma, I found I had memories from when I was only 3. They lived in on High Street in 1960, the same year my sister Christine was born. They had to move for a year because St Bernard’s was building a new convent in the place where their home was. That convent is now an emergency rescue shelter but I remember the big white house that once stood in its place. After a year, and the completion of the new convent, our grandparents moved into the old convent which was on the opposite end of the block on High Street. It was another big white house.
In 1962 The Jacobs Clan picked up and moved to Cuyahoga Falls to a home that is still in my parents name to this day. By then we were 6 strong. Laura was born the year before in 1961. In 1963 my sister Terry was born and I started 1st grade. In 66 my sister Debbie was born. Can you see what’s happening here? I wasn’t paying attention either and it just sort of snuck up on me but I was the only dude holding down the fort with 5 sisters already. 
In the sixties life was pretty much routine in the suburbs. We were all too young for sex, drugs and rock n roll to mean anything, and who knew back then that phrase could lead to sound financial advice for the 80’s and 90’s. Weekdays were filled with school, homework, some play, then dinner, baths and bedtime. Saturdays were our day though, and the neighborhood belonged to us. That home holds some good childhood memories. It was a neighborhood teeming with children. Kick the can, hide n seek, tag and kick ball were all incorporated into every Saturday. Sundays were spent in the same way, it seemed, as all other families in that neighborhood. It started with a trip to church then it was over the river and through the woods to visit both sets grandparents, figuratively speaking.
The first set of grandparents we visited on Sunday reminds me of the cliché, “killing two birds with one stone”. My Grandfather Hengle worked for St Bernard’s Church so, in the early years, that’s where we practiced our faith. We had a place to park (this was nice because with 6 kids we arrived everywhere late or just on time), we walked up the hill to church, and then we hung out at their place afterwards to chow on great ethnic dishes for lunch. My grandma could cook it all; German, Hungarian, and the best homemade chicken soup in the world. Later in the afternoon we headed off to Tallmadge. Those grandparents owned about 4 acres which was looked at like Nirvana to us kids. 4 acres (2 of which were wooded) seemed huge to us back then and it felt as if we owned our own country when we were there. My Grandfather Jacobs was a Jack of all trades. He could fix or make anything and our dad acquired those same attributes. My Grandma Jacobs can be personified as a character straight from one of those Foxfire books. She made her own Bread, canned her own jams and jarred her honey with pieces of comb on the inside. It was the best bread in the whole world and we chewed honeycomb like bubble gum and could spit it anywhere we wanted to in our 4 acre country when we were done chewing all the goodness out of it.
In 1968 our Grandpa Hengle passed away. I believe it was the first loss we went through as a family. He came from and sowed a large family and to this day, it was the largest funeral I have ever been to.
By then our family was still 8 strong, as well as my mom’s sister’s family and it just donned on me now why our families were meant to be so large. Besides the fact and stereotype that we were Catholic, maybe the families grew large to keep my Grandma Hengle from getting lonely. She handled the loss of her husband graciously but never remarried. Her grandchildren guaranteed she’d never be lonely. There’s 22 of us in this photo and, believe it or not, we weren’t all here yet.
My grandma took over my grandpa’s position at St Bernard’s. This brought in a new era of weekend and summer activity. We all took turns spending days or weeks with her and helped her clean St Bernard’s school and church. The boys were paid with Hot Wheels and the girls paid with Barbie accessories. She may not have known it, but the pay didn’t matter. We all loved being with her and would have done anything for her for free.
1970 harbored a glorious event for me and the Jacobs Clan, it marked the birth of another boy. Ed was born, followed by Steve in 71. Back to back brothers wrought the end of my solitude as the only Jacobs male and I thought maybe the end of my torment by 5 younger sisters. Little did I know that I would be moved out and on my own by the time they became old enough to play with or tease. It didn’t matter then though, I had brothers. Or at least, I thought I did…
In 1975 my last sister Kathy was born, the same year I graduated from high school. The following year, in 76, my first nephew Michael was born. Mike is now a father himself which literally earned me the coveted title of being a truly great uncle.
Two years later, in November of 1978, tragedy was introduced into the fabric of our family. My brother George was born. But complication from his birth left him struggling for survival on life support. 6 days later he died. It was a devastating blow to many members of the family, especially to my mom and sisters, and it was reality check for the rest of us.
In 1981 we lost our Grandpa Jacobs and in 1992 Florence joined his side.
For now, I’m just going to stop right here. With the last two passages it seems as though life is waning within our clan, but this is not the case. Life still grows within the Jacobs Clan and so far my parents have been blessed with 14 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild. For the most part, life has been good for the Jacobs Clan. We’ve all left the nest, one by one, to seek out and step upon the paths we have each chosen to follow in life. We all still remain close and still love to share memories of days gone by.