The first time LeBron James left the Cleveland Cavaliers, the NBA team that plays just forty miles up the road from his hometown of Akron, he was savaged as “callous,” “heartless,” and “cowardly.” And that’s just what team owner Dan Gilbert called him in an angry open letter ...
Excerpted from The Akron Anthology available from Belt Publishing. By Jennifer Conn The [...]
In the summer of 1961, my family moved against our will to a smelly brickpile of a parsonage in Akron, Ohio, where my father became the pastor of a church named for the crucifixion. And when we got there, we found ourselves surrounded by ghosts.
I wasn’t having any of it. My mother brought my older sister and me to Chapel Hill Mall each year to visit with Archie the Talking Snowman. But I wasn’t fooled. Snowmen don’t talk, and I didn’t trust the disembodied voice that floated from above.
On a balmy Friday afternoon, I’m nervously careening through downtown Akron without my GPS, trying to prove I haven’t lost my touch since leaving the “330.”