I became interested in Ohio after I discovered the agricultural writings of Louis Bromfield. It took me another nine years to make a road trip to Malabar Farm State Park, the former farm of Bromfield, that he restored to productivity from ruined soil due to poor farming practices. I was blown away by the beauty of rural Ohio in June. I was particularly taken by southeastern Ohio. I did not go to any of the really big cities, the largest I passed through was Marion.
In my opinion, American children's literature reached its zenith in the 1950's and 1960's. Since it almost exclusively came from the east coast, there was a flavor about the books, particularly the illustrations, that had a "somewhere else" feel to a western kid like myself, who loved to read. I remember the shock I felt as a child finding a series of books about my own area. In my child's mind, somewhere there was an Americana-style small town, with cardinals and blue jays... I just didn't know where. In 1997, to my surprise I found that place in every small town I passed through in Ohio. I loved Ohio in June, but I'd probably hate it in winter ( I dislike cold and snow). I chanced on your Substack, and was interested when I realized you were writing from Ohio. BTW, my two deleted comments are because Substack has a nasty habit of deleting my comments if I make one wrong move. I don't have a desktop or laptop.
Being from Central Ohio and living in the county where Malabar Farm resides I have always been puzzled by the bad rap Ohio gets. I think it’s a beautiful state if only one takes the time to look. Thanks for this piece!
A regional identity whose defining characteristic is a distrust of regional identity. Ha!
Appalachian identity is a tricky thing. I grew up on the outskirts of Cleveland Ohio. When working on my masters in urban education I became intrigued by Appalachian immigrant populations that formed insular pockets in urban areas. I wrote my thesis on how educating members of these groups differs from other urban populations even generations after the relocation. But even through that process it never occurred to me to connect myself to that group. The songs from my childhood that no one else knew, the stories I listened to for hours about the hills and valleys, the fact that upon entering Ohio University in the 60’s my mom was enrolled in a class to help her “speak like everyone else”. It has taken a lot of years for me to delve into the influences my Appalachian ancestry has had on me. I think it can be really helpful to examine how your family history halos to shape the person you become, even if you aren’t looking to associate yourself with a particular group.
I grew up in many ways surrounded by people who felt like they had lost their sense of place. I think, maybe because of that, I have always looked for that connection with where I live and the land around me. For me, permaculture has reinforced the importance of knowing the my place in as much detail as possible. If you know a place and are able to see all the connections between the plants, animals (including humans), bacteria, and fungi in the ecosystem, it is very hard to watch it harmed or destroyed. As much as I try to focus on understanding my place, I think I just hit the tip of the iceberg compared with someone whose family has lived a land based lifestyle in the same place for generations. This is something that our transient American culture, always looking for the next best thing and opportunity seems to have lost. I think many or most people have lost the ability to even recognize what they are losing and have already lost. I wish I had an answer.
I ran across a Gaelic word a few months ago…”Duthchas”, defined as “a feeling of belonging, where everything is completely linked. Where you belong to the land, and the land belongs to you…everything fits, your culture and everything you know around you…knowing where you come from and that you are a part and a continuation of all that.”
I think I have a feeling of hiraeth (welsh) for the duthchas of my ancestors.
This response is already too long…but I’d love to come back and see comments on the commercialization of culture! Thanks again for your writing, I always enjoy seeing your posts appear!
One thing I don't like about reading on a screen is I can't underline exceptional passages to revisit later. I enjoy your prose very much and always find some nuggets: "I associated Appalachia with high altitudes, deep hollers, and smudge-faced kids hanging off the porches of tarpaper shacks..." That's so vivid. And the photos. I think some of your recent photos especially the ones that are the antithesis of beauty shots are really great; mystery and poetry lurk in those damp woods. The black stump with the shards surrounding it is going to stick in my mind.
Here is an outsider's view of Ohio:
I became interested in Ohio after I discovered the agricultural writings of Louis Bromfield. It took me another nine years to make a road trip to Malabar Farm State Park, the former farm of Bromfield, that he restored to productivity from ruined soil due to poor farming practices. I was blown away by the beauty of rural Ohio in June. I was particularly taken by southeastern Ohio. I did not go to any of the really big cities, the largest I passed through was Marion.
In my opinion, American children's literature reached its zenith in the 1950's and 1960's. Since it almost exclusively came from the east coast, there was a flavor about the books, particularly the illustrations, that had a "somewhere else" feel to a western kid like myself, who loved to read. I remember the shock I felt as a child finding a series of books about my own area. In my child's mind, somewhere there was an Americana-style small town, with cardinals and blue jays... I just didn't know where. In 1997, to my surprise I found that place in every small town I passed through in Ohio. I loved Ohio in June, but I'd probably hate it in winter ( I dislike cold and snow). I chanced on your Substack, and was interested when I realized you were writing from Ohio. BTW, my two deleted comments are because Substack has a nasty habit of deleting my comments if I make one wrong move. I don't have a desktop or laptop.
Being from Central Ohio and living in the county where Malabar Farm resides I have always been puzzled by the bad rap Ohio gets. I think it’s a beautiful state if only one takes the time to look. Thanks for this piece!
A regional identity whose defining characteristic is a distrust of regional identity. Ha!
Appalachian identity is a tricky thing. I grew up on the outskirts of Cleveland Ohio. When working on my masters in urban education I became intrigued by Appalachian immigrant populations that formed insular pockets in urban areas. I wrote my thesis on how educating members of these groups differs from other urban populations even generations after the relocation. But even through that process it never occurred to me to connect myself to that group. The songs from my childhood that no one else knew, the stories I listened to for hours about the hills and valleys, the fact that upon entering Ohio University in the 60’s my mom was enrolled in a class to help her “speak like everyone else”. It has taken a lot of years for me to delve into the influences my Appalachian ancestry has had on me. I think it can be really helpful to examine how your family history halos to shape the person you become, even if you aren’t looking to associate yourself with a particular group.
I grew up in many ways surrounded by people who felt like they had lost their sense of place. I think, maybe because of that, I have always looked for that connection with where I live and the land around me. For me, permaculture has reinforced the importance of knowing the my place in as much detail as possible. If you know a place and are able to see all the connections between the plants, animals (including humans), bacteria, and fungi in the ecosystem, it is very hard to watch it harmed or destroyed. As much as I try to focus on understanding my place, I think I just hit the tip of the iceberg compared with someone whose family has lived a land based lifestyle in the same place for generations. This is something that our transient American culture, always looking for the next best thing and opportunity seems to have lost. I think many or most people have lost the ability to even recognize what they are losing and have already lost. I wish I had an answer.
I ran across a Gaelic word a few months ago…”Duthchas”, defined as “a feeling of belonging, where everything is completely linked. Where you belong to the land, and the land belongs to you…everything fits, your culture and everything you know around you…knowing where you come from and that you are a part and a continuation of all that.”
I think I have a feeling of hiraeth (welsh) for the duthchas of my ancestors.
This response is already too long…but I’d love to come back and see comments on the commercialization of culture! Thanks again for your writing, I always enjoy seeing your posts appear!
One thing I don't like about reading on a screen is I can't underline exceptional passages to revisit later. I enjoy your prose very much and always find some nuggets: "I associated Appalachia with high altitudes, deep hollers, and smudge-faced kids hanging off the porches of tarpaper shacks..." That's so vivid. And the photos. I think some of your recent photos especially the ones that are the antithesis of beauty shots are really great; mystery and poetry lurk in those damp woods. The black stump with the shards surrounding it is going to stick in my mind.