After three years away my mother convinced me it was time to visit the house I grew up in. On New Year’s Eve I sat through two sold out Southwest flights and ended up at the Columbus Ohio airport around 8pm EST. We drove through the night down lonely four lane divided highways to end up at my parents’ house around 10:30. My brother and his girlfriend had been waiting for us in her new Jeep outside the house. They gave up and passed us on the road moments before we arrived. They doubled back and we rang in the new year in the new addition to the old house. We didn’t have a tv or a radio on (thank god, because that Romney 2012 sign behind the ball would have been a crappy image to start the new year with!), but we knew our watches were correct when we heard gunshots go off somewhere in the cold dark hills behind the house. Apparently poor people of all colors like to live dangerously on New Year’s.
The next morning my brother and his girlfriend came back to take me on a road trip. Before leaving my mother cooked up a typical white-person’s brunch.
That’s blueberry muffins, bacon, scrambled eggs and a pancake with some sort of homemade strawberry sauce on top of a cream sauce of some kind.
Our destination on the road trip was the old strip mines. The first stop was the giant scooper bucket that used to scoop the coal. Just about everyone that grew up here has been to this thing and been photographed standing or sitting in it (Byron, I’m looking in your direction) – but, curiously, I’d never been. You know that opening scene in Avatar where they circle around a big “ugly” mining operation… That’s part of my cultural heritage, yay!
The weather gods couldn’t make up their mind whether they wanted to just be cold, overcast and windy or if they’d like to add rain into the equation. Luckily Emily drives a Jeep, so the muddy roads were no obstacle. Getting out at landmarks was curtailed somewhat though due to the inconsistent rain. A typical shot of the bleak frozen Ohio winter wilderness appears below:
At one point we stopped at a lookout above an area called “the wilds” which is apparently a wildlife sanctuary. We saw some deer grazing the field in front of us (too small to pick out in the photo below I’m sure).
Next, we stopped so I could use the restroom. Nearby we found a fire tower with a room at the very top. We started up the steps.
By this time the wind was moving fast again. Imagine el nino style winds, but with an ambient temperature of 18 degrees. This was not comfortable. About 3/4 of the way up my brother and I started to have reservations about completing the climb up the old swaying steel tower. Emily, however, has apparently no aversion to height or cold and lead us on.
At the top we discovered that the trap door to the little room had been sealed, so we wouldn’t get a high respite from the cold. We hastily but carefully descended back to the tundra below. Once on the ground Jon and Emily set about finding a geocache, something they are very passionate about, apparently. The cache was hidden in a tree not too deep into the woods near the fire tower. The tree below is not the actual tree, but an example of the woods we walked through.
Soon we were on our way back to Marietta to stop by my brother’s house on 2nd street to pick up his printer/copier/scanner. One of my missions on this trip was to scan all the old photos in storage of my elementary school and high school days. In the process I found many interesting things and helped my parents get rid of some old junk (who needs stacks of old Omni, Car & Driver and Guitar Player magazines?). I found a huge box with all the jewel cases to every compact disc I ever owned. For some reason I felt an especially guilty/sad pang when I put the box in the trash pile. I seem to have inherited my father’s tendency to keep things forever whether they’re important or not.
I didn’t just find old photos, though, I found a huge cache of old drawings, my old comic books, every note that was ever passed to me in high school, toys, comic books, grade cards and more. Through much of this there was a consistently reappearing thread: Aliens! I can’t think of a single person who is more excited than I am about this summer’s release of Prometheus, the prequel to Alien. I have been following this project for many years, ever since Scott dropped hints in interviews that he’d “like” to “someday” revisit “that universe” of his original sci-fi blockbuster. A little over a week before my trip, the first teaser trailer for Prometheus debuted to much fanfare on the web:
My first memory of the Aliens franchise was when Jim Cameron’s Aliens premiered on CBS in 1989 and I watched it in the living room; being only eight years old I was both fascinated and horrified. In the years that followed I would keep a trained eye out for rebroadcasts and managed to record the film once it began regular Sunday outings on Fox. When Fox began gearing up for David Fincher’s directorial debut on Alien 3 (as well as the afterglow of success from Predator) there was an explosion of merchandising for the franchise. Suddenly there were many Dark Horse comic books, a full line of toys and detailed model kits. I wanted it all, and I had most all of it too. Many of my toys and models didn’t survive the twenty year journey to January 2012, but I assembled the ones I found in the photo below:
When I found the toys I asked my mother if she knew what they were. She wasn’t sure. I explained they were based on Alien from 1979, to which she exclaimed “oh, I never watched those movies, I just know you were crazy about that stuff and couldn’t get enough.” She was right. My early development as an artist was fueled by two things; comic books and Aliens. Every other drawing in my childhood portfolio after 1989 was an Alien. I learned how to draw human hands by studying the hands of the Alien (it’s essentially the same, but with fused digits and an extra thumb). I learned how to draw human teeth by drawing the teeth of the Alien. I was sixteen when Alien Resurrection was released (November 1997) and I remember convincing my father to take me to the R rated movie.
I just wrote a lot of fluff about my preoccupation with Aliens, but this serves to educate anyone who may doubt my sincerity of (or my reason for) anticipation for Prometheus – or my concern about what may be disappointments to come (like how the Space Jockeys might be giant blue men based on a still from the trailer).
After retrieving all the old photos and packing the toys/drawings/etc. back up I went upstairs for some pictures of the Christmas tree in the (unfinished) new addition to the house before beginning the long process of scanning.
The next day my grandfather and my aunt came to visit and watch the Gator Bowl with us.
Outside visibility dropped as a blizzard set in. Things didn’t get much better on the football field.
The next day I ventured outside in the bitter cold (note, it’s not that bad if the wind DOESN’T blow…but of course the wind was always blowing) to take some photos. Below you can see the unfinished deck on the addition to the house where the old garage used to be.
Below is a photo of the little pond that used to exist in a hole in the back yard. When I was little my father dug a giant crater out of the side of the hill. Supposedly this was eventually to house a wine cellar or something, but all that ever materialized was this little pond that used to be a great place for little boys to catch frogs in the summer.
Not too far from the pond now it appears my father’s old Honda has found its final resting place. Throughout my childhood this bike was kept at the back of the garage. I was told my father decided not to ride it after my mother became pregnant – but would start it up again when the kids left for college. Apparently the interest in whipping around country roads on two wheels had faded by then, and the bike would sit another ten years before begin trotted out to the back yard when construction began on the house. Three years ago, when I’d last visited, the original house was intact. From the growth of ivy through the engine I’d guess the bike left the old house not long after I last did.
I always think my old neighborhood has something of a “shire” quality to it with the rolling hills and little houses dotting the fields here and there. A bit harder to imagine in the winter though when everything is covered in white.
Back inside the house I found my father in my old room, which, I imagine, is where he spends a large part of the day during the winter. It looks far more comfortable than my computer work station, that’s for sure.
Looking down the old hallway and through to the new addition to the house is a strange experience, a bit like looking into a mirror.
The old living room is in a state of flux. My mother informed me that the next time I’m home the window will likely be replaced with something else and the door might be in a different spot.
For lunch on January 3rd my mother made an old childhood favorite: veal parmigiana
Around 3pm my father and I drove into Marietta to pick up my uncle Rick. Rick used to be very active, jogging around our town every day even into his 70s. At 84, now, he’s a bit more limited and has not only given up jogging, but driving as well. I’d probably been informed before, but I was unaware until a few days ago that he had served in the Korean War and has shrapnel in his knee. In spite of all this he remains kind and upbeat with a laugh you can hear a mile away.
A bit later my uncle Ray and his friend Dee arrived in his new turbocharged black Kia Optima. Before long it was time to eat mom’s BBQ pork and mac & cheese (and some other vegetable based dishes which I obviously ignored). The only room in the entire house that is nearly complete is the kitchen. Somewhat to my surprise, my mother’s design sense is entirely modern and the kitchen looks like anything you might see on an episode of MTV Cribs, with a huge granite island, 6-burner stove with built in gas grill, recessed lighting, LED track lighting, brushed aluminum fridge, etc.
On my last full day in Ohio I drove to Athens and visited my old friend Cliff, his wife and their new baby. I didn’t get any photos of this adventure, but decided to stop and photograph two of the chemical plants near my parents’ house.
The EPA is a hot button topic in Marietta these days. There are unsubstantiated rumors that there will be black-outs when the AEP power plant closes down. This area has one of the worst air quality ratings in the nation, but since the particulates aren’t brown (like in Los Angeles), the simple folk assume the massive chemical plants have nothing to do with the high cancer rates. I don’t often get political on this blog any more, but it makes me sad to think that so many of my relatives may suffer from pollution they were bamboozled into supporting with “pro-jobs” or “end the EPA” “conservative” politicians. I heard someone on my visit even say “Obama hates us,” as if the President has any idea Marietta Ohio even exists.
The photo below is a massive (although largely hidden in this photo because I didn’t want to have a swarm of security guards come after me) Energizer Battery factory. This facility is minutes from the house I lived in for 18 years and the elementary school I attended for 9. People used to take a peculiar point of pride in the fact that our little town might be on the top of some rogue nations’ nuclear hit lists because we provide so much electric power (and chemicals – Dow is located here) to the eastern US. I always used to think this was an ironic point of view, since by NOT getting bombed we’re simply slowly poisoning ourselves anyway with the pollution being pumped/dumped/drained out on a daily basis.
When I got home my father’s famous (in our extended family, apparently) roast beef (and mom’s green bean casserole) was waiting for me.
The next day my mother made sausage patty sandwiches for breakfast, much like on many Sundays from my childhood. We then left for Columbus, meeting two of my aunts for lunch before I was on my way back to sunshine and opportunity.
