Homeward Bound

Packing and Unpacking

Photo by Halle Parks on Unsplash

As part of my research for my memoir project, I had the idea that going “home” might be a good idea. I can’t help but put “home” in quotation marks. Northeast Ohio is where I grew up and spent a good part of my twenties, but I’ve always had a complicated relationship with calling it home.

My great-grandparents emigrated from Ireland, Croatia, Latvia, and landed in Cleveland, Ohio. My grandparents raised their two daughters in the city until Grandpa moved them to a yellow bungalow in Avon Lake, a small town seventeen miles west of downtown. That’s where my parents raised me as well.

I couldn’t wait to leave. I wanted to meet people who didn’t look like me. I wanted to see the places I’d read about in books.

I only feel sentimental about Cleveland when I root for its sports teams (I don’t recommend it) and finally, years after leaving, its food scene.

The last time I was there was 2019 for a quick weekend to attend a high school reunion. Before that, I’d take a road trip now and then with my mom, driving from my house in Ann Arbor, Michigan to visit a few of our favorite places. We packed a big cooler for our last stop at the West Side Market so we could take home fresh pierogis, nut roll, and Mom’s fave, Braunschweiger.

And in 2005 I had to spend a lot of time back in Ohio when my dad had a stroke. While caregiving for him, I took culinary classes and found a passion for food I’d never had before.

I decided to pursue a culinary degree. My classes started a month after Dad died in 2007. Now that I think about it, that’s probably when Mom and I started taking small trips back to Cleveland, trips that were purely fun.

Now that I’m focused on my memoir writing, I’m faced with fact that, like it or not, Ohio formed me.

Armed with my laptop, pen and paper, phone for photos and voice memos, I’m ready to retrace the steps of my younger self.

I leave for Cleveland May 1st and I’m staying for a week.

I have a long list of places to see, people to meet, all in the hope of stirring memories. And because I’m me, I have a list of foods I’d like to hunt down while I’m in town.

Some foods that Cleveland is famous for, I’ve never had, due to my childhood moniker, “Pickiest Eater Ever”. So I have dates with fried perch and a Polish Boy.

My cousin promises to stock the fridge with Lawson’s French onion dip, my favorite chip dip of all time. He also knows to have plenty of boxes of tissues for the expected crying jags that will accompany this journey.

Here’s a great photo from the shores of Lake Erie. Chances are good though that when I go, I’ll still have to wear a coat, a hat, and boots.

Thanks again for reading! I care about you. Please don’t forget to eat your greens.