I love America. I'm glad I live here. That being said there are things about being a modern "American" that I don't like. Like feeling culturally lost, disconnected to a collective heritage or ancestry, not really belonging to a "people" or specific place. I think a lot of us Americans are missing out on what is probably one of the greatest perks of being human- a sense of deep rooted, ancient belonging to an unbroken line of people and tradition. I love where I live and I do the best I can to feel like I belong here. But there is a great void that wants to be filled. Now that I have a brother and a little baby nephew in Dayton (Ohio), which happens to be where I was born, my mother was born, her mother was born, her mother was born (well, Sibina*, Ohio- close enough), and her mother was born (Sibina again), I have motivation enough to travel to that godforsaken part of America, a journey which is asthetically less than pleasing. To make up for the lack of visual appeal, I have taken to searching Dayton for treasures from my German American Ohio roots- I am desperate to uproot any cultural heritage that might help me in my quest to belong to something bigger than myself. Last time I went to Dayton, I explored my family's soap history. I had a semi-religious experience purchasing Lever 2000 and Dove cucumber scented in the local Kroger's (where my great grandmother used to be a cashier). This spring's trip led to to the Dot's, the meat shop that has fed the last 4 generations of my mother's side of the family (and which has not changed in 40 years, according to my GG), the house that my grandfather built to raise his children, and the run down shack of a shop that housed my grandfather's plumbing business for his entire career. Please enjoy the photos, and tell me if you feel like you fit in anywhere in this vast, beautiful, free for all nation.
* Sibina is the home of "Petrified Eugene," a black man who didn't have any family and died poor and wasn't buried, but somehow naturally petrified. Eugene was the limelight of tourism in Sibina when my mom was a kid. I don't know if he is still available for viewing, but I aim to find out the next time I go up there...
3 comments:
Great entry. I am unable to write an equally meaningful response at this time, but really appreciate your comments.
Also, did you find those morels? If so, was it the same place we found them last year?
-- Julia
Yes, Julia, same spot- thanks for helping me find that the first time...
ok, see, i am from the midwest and when i see that picture of the alleyway, all grey skied, my heart soars. why i don't know. i feel at home in that picture. growing up in and around chicago we went to bluffton ohio every year for thanksgiving (near dayton) to hang out with our "aunt and uncle" and family. we'd hit the rolling hills in indiana and i'd be in heaven, and they'd grow a bit on our way east into ohio (on hwy 30 - which is where the only lake with my name is...) anyhow, we'd get to ohio and this little town and i'd want to be there forever. my childhood dream was to live not far from the place you are describing.........
different strokes, huh.
when i first moved to the swannanoa valley, nc, i was disturbed a bit by the perpetual sunshine. well, not so much that, as the all the time blue sky. i felt exposed. and it was so beautiful, i felt like it was too much for me. like really rich food.
i was just up north - illinois is so pretty - wisconsin is god' country - lake michigan makes me crave to live nearby. and the cornfields in indiana in the afternoon sun late summer - so lovely. then back here through kentucky (which someday i'll get to bond with...) to tennessee where i was born.
that said:
when i was little we came south every summer to hang out at aunt jean's pool. going north to illinois, my sadness to leave the hills was overwhelming. they held me tight. we'd get close to the city and i'd be fooled by the smog - it always looked like mountains in the distance to me. my folks were from the south - georgia and north carolina. i always knew i'd live here. after 12 years down south i still love it. but every time i hit the flatness of the midwest i am at home in a somehow more primal way. strange.
i am so happy that i'm a travelling person because my heart is at home in so many places. i also really love america. with all it's wackoness and history of remarkable inclusion and regrettable oppression - it's my home. i know that. and our culture is odd and varied, a gazillion different perspectives. and changing all the time.
i'm - right now - especially thankful for land trusts and national parks and state parks and good hearted humans.
and for you, my friend.
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