Everyone has a story worth telling. At least, that's the theory. To test it, Tempo is throwing darts at the phone book. When a dart hits a name, a reporter dials the phone number and asks if someone in the home will be interviewed. Stories appear on Fridays.

        It's a cold, gray day on the Schindler family's Colerain Township farm. In some places, boots sink several inches into the soft earth.

        “Everything's muddy this time of year,” 38-year-old Lou Schindler says, tromping through muck.

        Spring, his favorite time of year, will arrive soon enough, along with newborn goats and lambs and rabbits. Camp-outs and pig roasts won't be far behind.

        But even on the most dreary of winter days, Eagle View Stables & Family Farm, as it's formally known, conveys a special quality. Only a couple of miles outside the Interstate 275 loop, it's one of the few family farms left in Hamilton County.

        Tom Schindler — Lou's dad — thought he was buying a hobby farm and an investment property back in February 1976. Turns out he invested in a way of life.

Lori and Lou Schindler (far right) with their family (from left) Brecken, 12, Deanna, 7, Grandmother Doris, Andy 13 and Cody, 10. (Ernest Coleman photos) | ZOOM |

        He couldn't have known it then, but his purchase of these 40 hilly acres would have deep, long-lasting effects on his family, including Schindlers who were not yet born.

        Tom, the married father of six children, was something of a workaholic much of his life. For 34 years, he awoke in the middle of the night to deliver The Cincinnati Enquirer, then he drove to a second job to lay carpet, tile and linoleum. It didn't leave much time for himself, or for family.

        Then in 1974 his brother-in-law met an untimely death. For Tom it was something of an awakening, a reminder to make time for relationships.

        He and his wife, Doris, purchased the farm two years later. It's where Tom could pursue his dream of raising Clydesdale horses. And it's where he could spend time with his one son and five daughters while instilling in them his work ethic.

        Lou married in 1986, and he and his wife, Lori, became the first Schindlers to actually live on the property. The first of their four children was born the next year.

        Lou and Lori never needed day care, thanks to Grandma and Grandpa Schindler. “The sooner I got the kids dressed in the morning,” Lori, who is 37, says, “the sooner they'd go outside and play with (Tom).”

        Tom Schindler enjoyed watching his grandchildren explore the land and tend to animals, Doris says. He was especially proud that the farm brought the family together.

Lou Schindler raises horses at Eagle View Stables and Family Farm. | ZOOM |

        A week before his death in May 1994, he piled several grandchildren in his pickup and drove to the ice cream shop. “He didn't care how messy his truck got, or how messy the kids got,” his widow, Doris, says, chuckling at the thought.

        He sometimes invited groups to tour the farm, just for fun. “He was instrumental in having the farm as the fun place to be,” Lou says.

        Lou has expanded on his father's idea for farm tours. He's turned it into a business. For three years now, school and Scout groups have come to see the horses, cows, pigs, turkeys, sheep, chickens and llamas, and to learn about food and fiber production.

        “You ask them where their hamburgers come from and they say McDonald's,” Lori says. They leave the farm knowing the real story.

        With income from tours, the farm now pays for itself, but it doesn't provide enough profit to raise a family. So Lori continues to work as an emergency room nurse.

        For the Schindlers, though, the farm business is secondary. First and foremost, this is a place to raise a family.

        “I can't see myself living in a subdivision,” says Lori, who grew up in South Dakota and is as soft-spoken as her husband. “I'm used to having a lot of area, and the privacy. To me, this is ideal.”

        The Schindler kids — Andy, 13; Brecken, 12; Cody, 10; and Deanna, 7 — have grown up on the farm. They've never known anything different.

        Each is assigned chores. There are stalls to be cleaned, wood to be carried in, hay to be unloaded, animals to be watered. They are learning the Schindler work ethic.

        And they're learning there's more to life than work.

        The Schindler kids are athletic, even though they don't play soccer or other organized sports. What they do is chase hogs, run after cows, climb trees, jump fences. Farm stuff.

        Some nights they're in the barn at 2 a.m., sitting on 5-gallon buckets, quietly waiting to watch the birth of baby pigs.

        Warm weather means cookouts and hayrides and greased pig contests. They need only walk over a hill to canoe, fish and swim. And there's that unfinished treehouse in the woods. “They've been building it for how many years now,” Lori says, laughing.

        Do they realize how lucky they are? “We tell 'em, often,” Lori chuckles.

        Mud squishing from under his boots, Lou Schindler treks to a secluded pond on the hill above the farmhouse. “We built this as a memorial to my dad,” he says. “Up here, the only things you hear are the airplanes flying over.”

        Or you might hear kids running and jumping and having a good 'ol time. And if they get dirty, well, nobody cares. Tom Schindler would have liked it that way.

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