Essays
A Rust Belt Education: Part Two
On a glorious Saturday morning, Erika Harrison pulled up to her house in East Cleveland, bounced out of a sparkling red Chevy Equinox minivan, and walked briskly to her front door ...
A Rust Belt Education: Part One
It has been more than four decades since money problems forced Jerry Schlueter to cut short his broadcast degree at Ohio University.
Zoo Camp For All
My son, Nico, loves the zoo. He’s eight years old, and going there inspires, engages, and delights him in a way that few other activities or places can.
Moving from Brooklyn to Detroit Is The Best Thing I’ve Done For My Children
I say this because it's true and because I just read a column by Aaron Foley that offered a bleak – if sarcastic – warning to New Yorkers attracted by the Move to Detroit billboards.
Hardboiled Coffee: Why Neighborhoods Need Mom & Pop Shops
Hardboiled Coffee Co. opened on a cold February day in 2013. I stopped by a few days before and found the doors locked and no one inside. I was so eager for a real coffee shop in Beverly, I didn't check to make sure of the grand-opening date.
A Tale of Two Cities: Why Chuy Garcia Won’t Turn Chicago Into Detroit
In 1983, shortly after Harold Washington was elected mayor of Chicago, Richard Mell, a white alderman, approached the African-American mayor with this plea: “Don’t make this city suffer for 300 years of injustice against your people.
Cleveland: City of Tomorrow
At Tech Central in the main branch of the Cleveland Public Library, you can experiment with three-dimensional printing. These days it is mostly a curiosity for kids to experiment with.
Requiem For A Slaw Dog
A few days ago, I watched as Steve’s Lunch smoldered and crumbled while firemen hosed out a blaze that had completely destroyed the place.
Steel Grit
The year was 1976. I was a college student going down to US Steel to apply for a summer job. I had never been there before, but it was one of those places that lined the Mahoning River, over which I had driven a million times.
There’s Always Next Year
My father was born in 1949. If you’re a lifelong Indians fan, his birth year is significant. Chances are, you’re shaking your head in sympathy or smiling ruefully right about now. My long-suffering father has never seen his beloved team win the World Series.
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