Back to Ashtabula

We moved around a lot growing up, but one of the few places across the country where my immediate family has memories all together is Northeast Ohio. Specifically, Ashtabula and Kingsville.

This part of the country represents one of the farthest reaches of Appalachia. My mom’s family and many other ex-miners they knew moved here in the 60s and 70s from West Virginia. So whatever weird redneck thing you’ve heard me say… this is probably where it comes from!

While this wasn’t a joyous visit per se (my Uncle Phil’s funeral), it was surreal to see how much of the town is the same and how much is different. My grandparents house, for example: gone. We drove by the lot and were all amazed how narrow it was–we all remember it being bigger, and by current zoning laws the lot probably isn’t even big enough to build another house on. Otherwise, the area looked like it’s been aging right along with me. Could use another coat of paint on just about everything. There’s probably a good metaphor there about how I should be taking better care of myself too 😂

Being around family–especially family you don’t get to see often– means I of course had my camera out almost the entire weekend. Here are a few snapshots of my mom & dad: