I made a few comments a couple of weeks ago about how I hate Collis, how it scares me to death, how its strange combination of identities fascinates me. So when I got a blitz from the Assistant Director of the Collis Center, I thought for sure I was doomed.
But I accepted the invitation to receive a tour of the building, and it was great. I learned about Mr. Collis '37, who, according to my guide, wanted to create a fun place for students like himself, who didn't really fit into the affluent, fraternity-oriented Dartmouth culture. Not a bad start.
And I learned that the basement shouldn't be referred to as "the weird, confused, creepy Collis basement." Instead, it's the Lower Atrium. (Did you know there's a room down there devoted purely to crafts? How fun.)
Thus, even though I am still terrified by the Collis Center, so many of its mysteries have been solved. And I was thinking I admitted to being freaked out by Collis, and I got a tour. So if I admit to being freaked out by Ohio, will I get a tour of that too?
Why Ohio? Because, you see, it is a state from another world, another dimension. Ohio fits no molds. Ohio abides by no rules. Ohio is something unknown, something special.
I'm certainly not an Ohio expert, not even close. But I have spent months perplexed by its mystery, studying its websites and talking to as many Ohio residents as possible. Thus, I feel I deserve an explanation, a tour, something to calm the madness.
You see, Ohio is perhaps the most mysterious, strangest little secret our country keeps, a secret it keeps quite carefully hidden, wedged in there between Kentucky, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Indiana and West Virginia (to help all of you geographically inept Easterners understand a little about what I'm describing).
Generally, I'm insulted, disgusted and annoyed when you people don't know about any non-Eastern states, don't know which ones are in the West or Midwest, and sometimes don't even know that anything past Pennsylvania exists.
But, with Ohio, I'll allow you some confusion, because it truly is a state that's impossible to understand. Ohio may think it's Midwestern, but it's not. And as a good old Iowa/Wisconsin girl, I know what I'm talking about. Ohio's way over there, past Indiana. Excuse me?
But it's not the East, either. I mean, it's not one of the original colonies. It's not New England. It doesn't border the Atlantic. Ohio's certainly not the South, although I do hear that Cincinnati accents sound pretty twangy.
Still, Cincinnati isn't characteristic of the entire state. No, there are about a thousand other cities " which is, in fact, my biggest problem with the state. Why is it that such a boring, stuck-in-the-middle state has more recognizable cities than any other? Who lives there? Why have we heard of so many Ohio places? I don't get it.
I mean, there's Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati, Dayton, Akron and Toledo. Even places like Canton and Youngstown. What's the deal? I can't name that many cities in the big states like California, New York and Texas.
Did you know that Ohio is the seventh most populated state in the country? Never would have guessed that. Also, seven presidents were born in Ohio. So there must be something special about it then, right? You'd think. You'd think Ohio would have some wonderfully unique identity, some great "thing," something.
But there's nothing. When you think of Ohio, you naturally think of nothing. Idaho has potatoes. Georgia has the peach. Rhode Island is the smallest. Colorado has mountains. Utah has Mormons. Iowa has corn. Florida is elderly. And the list goes on. But Ohio? Nothing.
But even with its lack of identity, Ohio is filled with random firsts. The first traffic light was used in Cleveland. Akron is the rubber capitol of the world. The Cincinnati Reds were the first professional baseball team. And this, you see, is what's so fascinating. How can a state with so much add up to nothing?
Still, Ohio is everywhere. It is absolutely impossible to mention this "state" without someone saying, "Oh, my dad's from Ohio," or "My best friend lives in Ohio," or best of all, "Hey, I'm from Ohio." It's a part of all of us.
My mom, for example, is obsessed with going to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which, of course, is in Cleveland. And one time, I actually heard someone say about one of his friends, "Well of course he has guns -- he's from Ohio."
And that, sadly, is what Ohio means to me. I know it's the Buckeye State, and I know its motto is, "With God, all things are possible." But I don't know its essence; I don't know what makes Ohio Ohio. So please, I beg of you, Ohio people. Please be offended by my words. Please offer me a tour.
