An Interview With Amy Jo Burns, Author of Cinderland
Amy Jo Burns is the author of Cinderland, a memoir about coming of age in a small town in Western Pennsylvania while carrying the burden of a lie.
Amy Jo Burns is the author of Cinderland, a memoir about coming of age in a small town in Western Pennsylvania while carrying the burden of a lie.
Jim Traficant hadn’t won an election in more than a decade. He hadn’t won a football game in more than 50 years. Since his release from prison in 2009, after serving seven years on federal corruption charges,
For me, the details surfaced Sunday morning, over coffee, nearly eighteen hours after it happened: Twelve-year-old boy Tamir Rice shot dead by a Cleveland police officer at Cudell Recreation Center Saturday, November 22, 2014, at 3:30 in the afternoon.
I’m a news junkie. While my bandwidth for online news consumption exceeds that for print, I still receive two daily newspapers, three if you count the four days of the week that The Plain Dealer is home-delivered.
I am watching Twitter and TV, where rage spills onto the streets of Missouri like gasoline. But my heart is not in Ferguson tonight.
Last week, a spokesman for Mayor Jackson brushed off the idea that Cleveland had anything to learn from Ferguson, MO, where the killing of an unarmed young black man, Michael Brown, by police has caused massive protests and civil unrest.
In 2013, the number of law enforcement officers killed in this country in the line of duty by firearms (33) was the lowest since 1887, when the U.S. population was about 240 million less than it is now.
The police shooting of 12-year-old Tamir Rice in Cleveland on November 22 became an international story in less than 48 hours. Activist group Anonymous even shut down the Cleveland city government’s website Monday morning in protest.
Wherever my paternal grandfather is – and if it’s his idea of Heaven, it probably looks like the old Dairy Queen in Lisbon, Ohio, with a couple pool tables – he’s got to be laughing his ass off.
“I Used to Live Here” is a collaborative essay and set of images about cities and how they can and cannot be archived or preserved by Mexican artist and writer Veronica Gerber Bicceci and American writer Kathleen Rooney.
It's not just Shinola: Detroit’s abandoned Goliaths have been the backdrop for music videos, ad campaigns, and glossy photos in art galleries since the beginning of white flight.
The Midwest is the center of my earth. The winds of the Great Lakes carry my family’s ties to the outer reaches of Erie, Michigan, Superior. Old farmlands hold their stories – of rejection, toil, love, and aspiration.