Most car drivers don’t like me. I’m one of those people who rides a bicycle in the street, and over the years I’ve had cars swerve toward me, throw garbage, honk, shout nasty crap, and give me the finger when they ride by.
When I was in high school in the late 1970’s and people I didn’t know well would drive me home from my summer job, I would ask to be dropped off at a neighbor’s house.
The Cuyahoga River is better known for catching fire than for its natural beauty. When I stepped into the rowing shell for the first time, I thought of the rumors that circulated about the Crooked River.
I was born in northeast Ohio, on the awkward border between green and brown farmland and the gray highways crisscrossing Ohio’s suburbia. It wasn’t exactly Amish country, but buggies did clip-clop down the road every so often.
The intrigue of historical Midwest industry ... and the isolated beauty of Marktown in East Chicago, Indiana.
Next month we publish our second edition (and third print run) of Rust Belt Chic: The Cleveland Anthology, with essays by Connie Schultz, Michael Ruhlman, David Giffels, and others. This excerpt is the book’s new introduction.
Chicago’s Greyhound terminal in late Aug. 1966 certainly lacked cheer and charm, and perhaps safety. But to me, holding a one-way ticket back to Calumet County, WI, it was a suitable escape platform from my job as a “Summer Girl”
On a sunny summer afternoon, the City of Cleveland buzzes with a frenetic energy you can only observe from the waterfront, where the Cuyahoga meets the Great Lake.
I can't cut it in the deli life—the corned beef—anymore. I’m just not the deli Jew my dad was.
Better parenting through salamanders, dragonflies and spiders.
A family history wrought in the steel mills of Southeast Chicago. An excerpt from the work of Christine Walley, author of "Exit Zero."
I wanted there to a user's guide to grain farming, but that's not how life works.