Maxo Vanka’s Radical Gaze
If a focus on workers tied Vanka with New Deal artists, he diverged by drawing on Catholic spirituality and forcefully critiquing capitalism.
The Complexities of Jewish Identity
She made a choice in life, and I respect her right to choose to practice (or not practice) a religion that best suits her beliefs. That doesn’t mean I think a pastor should be speaking from a synagogue pulpit on Shabbat.
Fly-Fishing in Michigan
Today, in easier times than those of the explorers on a religious mission and timber men in search of their fortunes, the Pere Marquette is spoken of in hushed tones by those who pursue fly-fishing for sport and amusement, rather than a necessary search for food.
The Accident that Changed a City
And so, it dawned on me - Pittsburgh is a city of very hard stops.
Drumming Up Cleveland Baseball
The 70s were tough for Cleveland. And they were especially tough for the Indians.
Langston Hughes’ Radical Ohio Youth
To Hughes, America has never achieved its potential. Never reached the supposed promises enumerated in the nation’s founding documents.
On Curiosity, Empathy, and the Flavor of Beer
As craft beer and other artisan food and beverage industries reckon with their lack of diversity and seek to court new demographics, this posture of reciprocal learning and the empathy and curiosity that go with it can serve as an invitation.
Hatchet-Throwing in Forgotten Places
I get sentimental about places, especially forgotten ones like Monarch Park. They’re a bit of a bummer, a bit sobering, a bit sad. But I think it’s a good kind of sadness.
Dreaming of Chicago with “The Bear”
The untamed energy of the show woke something in me. Carmy’s life in Chicago was real. Authentic. Social. I knew that restaurant and those people. How many times had I eaten at a joint like that?
Forgetting How to Swim
We would laugh so hard in a place not meant for laughter, feel family in a place not meant for home. We had built a brotherhood in a place meant only to be punitive.
My Midwestern Fleetwood Mac
She came from a dying Rust Belt town in southeast Ohio, and I came from a famously dying Rust Belt town an hour north of Detroit. We were both oldest children, with the same letter leading our first and last name. Our birthdays were one day apart. And, we both loved Fleetwood Mac.
Toby and Me on Father’s Day
Why were these guys alive and my dad dead? My dad’s long game wasn’t good.