Photo by Christine Marchello
Photo taken by my friend Christine on what looks to be the Carnegie-Lorain bridge, connecting the east side to the west side. This is one of the views that I look forward to when I drive across the city. It tells me that I am home.
I’m going to post at least once a week, but this week happened to be a monster week. I have a story to tell about one of my first experiences in Cleveland — look for it soon!
I never thought I would end up here in Cleveland.
And, after I got here, I never imagined that I would stay. I moved to the city after spending four formative years in college in Michigan (referred to as “the state up North” by Ohioans), crossing the border between two rival states with an adventurous spirit to try something new. That first year here in Cleveland, during a significant transition to a life of independence and adulthood, I struggled to find my place. And because of my displacement, I found every opportunity I could to go back to Ann Arbor. Even after two years, I had great difficulty returning to Cleveland from my trips to New York, Chicago, and DC. On the plane ride during descent toward Cleveland, I would look out the window to see the skyline, and my heart would fill with dismay, and even dread.
But now, I look at the skyline, and something has changed. Cleveland has changed, and that is for sure. But I have changed also, and that is the more driving factor in my conversion story. It happened one evening, on my usual highway route westbound past the factories and smokestacks. With their lights twinkling in the dusty sky, I realized that the weirdo industrial skyline had become my home, and I had become endeared to this city.
I hope to use this blog to tell a good story about Cleveland, because I really do believe in the CLE.