Dad Rock: Tom Petty and the Music of My Father
By Erin Osmon When we buried my mother in a sylvan plot on the north side of Evansville, Indiana, she [...]
By Erin Osmon When we buried my mother in a sylvan plot on the north side of Evansville, Indiana, she [...]
By Aaron Foley Reprinted with permission from Detroit's The Neighborhoods, where Aaron Foley has continued to chronicle the city's response to [...]
Part of what many people find so irritating—or dangerous, depending on how much you have at stake—about upwardly mobile young people moving to working-class city neighborhoods is the sense of frivolity, of flightiness, they carry with them.
By Randy Cunningham The following is an edited transcript of a talk given by Randy Cunningham, author of "Democratizing Cleveland: [...]
I live in Flint. I own a home in the city. However, I’m still often reluctant to call Flint my home. This isn’t because I’m not madly in love with this place, or incredibly proud to live in the city. It’s because of the way I talk. As soon as I open my mouth, most people realize I’m clearly not from here.
The building is one of those beige, ’80s office numbers, and through the half-shut blinds, cars are whizzing past on Interstate 480. It’s a beautiful day in April, and in the darkened classroom, the teacher is doing a midterm review with the students, going through slides of vocabulary and textbook photos.
By Brianne Jaquette From Main-Travelled Roads, by Hamlin Garland, an inaugural title in Belt Publishing’s new Belt Revivals imprint, reprinting [...]
“Everybody let’s imagine something together. This can be our great moment. It’s nine days from now, Aug 7. Election night. There are headlines all around the world. We see them on CNN, on MSNBC, even on Fox News. “And what are we going to see?”
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 ...
Five years after I left, I got Pennsylvania inked into my skin. It was my second autumn post-college, and the notion that I might never live in my home state again was sinking in. So I decided to carry the state outline on my left shoulder, with the major rivers of the western third, where I grew up, drawn in blue.
If you live in Northeast Ohio, you’ve probably heard of Bessie, the Lake Erie Monster. You may have drunk an IPA called Lake Erie Monster, which is produced by the Great Lakes Brewing Co. of Cleveland. Or you may have watched the Lake Erie Monsters, a minor league hockey team that plays in Quicken Loans Arena. But have you ever seen the Lake Erie Monster in real life?
We all remember our favorite teachers. We tuck their small acts of kindness away in basements or in attic boxes: red-penned lines of encouragement, our worth acknowledged. We remember their handwriting and the wooden, waxy smell of their classrooms. Many of us continue to do good work in their names, and this is especially true of individuals who later became teachers themselves.