It happens to me often that when I tell people I’m from Ohio they’ll mention that they know someone from Cleveland. Cleveland is in the opposite corner of the state from the city I grew up in, Cincinnati, and I’ve only visited Cleveland once in my life. I don’t tend to tell this to folks who say they know someone from Cleveland, though. Instead, I say “that’s cool” because I’m from Ohio and to mention the former would be rude.
I participated in Model UN all four years of college and was president my junior and senior year. I didn’t enjoy the politics aspect of it as much as I enjoyed the travel. In the spring, we would attend a conference in either New York City or Boston, and in the fall, we went to a conference in northeastern Ohio. My first year it was in Cleveland (my one visit to the city), and the next three years it was in Ashtabula, Ohio.
When I drive from home from Massachusetts to Ohio now, the route takes me past the exit in Ashtabula where I stayed with my Model UN group. I remember it distinctly because there was a Flying J Travel Center across from the hotel and that’s where I first played the arcade game Big Buck Hunter, which I was enamored with for a time, I’m not sure why.
On my most recent trip home to Cincinnati, I stopped for a night in Ashtabula. My stay had me swimming in memories of those old Model UN days, but I couldn’t swim in the water. I took Maggie out for a walk in the morning and felt like an archaeologist uncovering ancient ruins when I discovered the remnants of the former hotel pool:
My dad was always very excited for my trips to Ashtabula because Bob Dylan makes reference to it in his song “You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go.” It’s a good one:
Very cool.
Strange moments, when you become the archeologist of your own life. Really enjoyed this.