Yeah, I Hate This Place and I Know I Always Will

I grew up in Ohio. Much of it is rural farmland and woods; what were once great cities a century back, are now dilapidated reminders of a past that will never be present again - a dying state full of dying people. The skies remain an insipid gray for much of the year and winters are long and harsh. It was a depressing place to grow up and I don’t think upon it fondly.

That aside, it taught me many things. One of those things is that you can writhe in the frozen dirt and still manage crawl your way out if you keep at it long enough. The farms and open space offer a brief freedom from the decaying towns that little the state, though the woods are lovely, dark, and deep.

These photos were taken primarily from the passenger seat of a pristine 1976 Lincoln Continental Mark V - like riding on a dreamy sofa, floating over the rough roads as if they were actually paved. The look and feel of the car belied its age, unlike the towns my father drove through.

As I felt momentary peace cruising by the vast fields, I couldn’t help but think, “I never want to come back here.” Perhaps I am too harsh on the state, projecting my own troubled youth upon it as if it were at fault - and perhaps to some extent it is.

Living in Arizona, it is common to come across people that moved from other states. Most everyone from Ohio seems to share my sentiments, giving traction to my hate. The woods are indeed lovely, dark, and deep, but I have many miles to go and nothing to draw me back.