James Proffitt

A roadside memorial

In February 2022, a crash on Ohio 19 in Ottawa County took the life of Shannon Roberts’ 17-year-old son, Richie, and his friend, who was driving. “He was a great kid and didn’t deserve what happened,” she says. “It was a complete accident and nobody’s to blame.”  

Drivers in Ohio pass them by, often without a second thought — a small cross or a bouquet of flowers, a candle or a stuffed animal, any of a number of seemingly insignificant trinkets. But to the folks who have erected these roadside memorials, they mean the world. 

Big Muskie

Mentioned in most places, it will set an angler’s heart racing — but mention “Big Muskie” in southeast Ohio and it’s likely to bring on intense memories, curiosity, or the warm and fuzzy feeling that at one time, right here in Ohio, the largest dragline excavator the Earth has ever known operated

Brad and Joy Ryan pictured at a national park.

No one could have known when Brad Ryan’s parents divorced years ago that it would result in a long, record-breaking, heartwarming journey. 

Joy lives in Duncan Falls, a sleepy town nestled against the rolling hills along the Muskingum River southeast of Zanesville, where she’s a longtime member of New Concord-based Guernsey-Muskingum Electric Cooperative. When they finally reconnected, Brad noticed she was suffering some health issues, and clearly needed a change. 

The captain of a ferry's view of the lake.

Nearly a million people visit the tiny cluster of islands at the western end of Lake Erie each year, and most of them arrive by boat — specifically, on one of three ferry services that tote folks across the water from Port Clinton, Catawba, Sandusky, and Marblehead. 

Ehrbar is one of a half-dozen full-time Kelleys captains, who, along with nine part-timers, keep the service’s five boats running from Marblehead to Kelleys Island nearly year-round. “In season, we’re running a boat every 30 minutes — we just raise the ramp and go,” Ehrbar says. “But in the off-season, we’ll give a couple minutes leeway here or there.” 

It’s often standing room only when the ODNR’s Wild Ohio Harvest mobile kitchen makes a stop.

Kendra Wecker, chief of the Ohio Department of Natural Resources’ wildlife division, swears she’s not trying to put any food trucks out of business.

The kitchen and its chefs cook and serve up free food created with wild-harvested Ohio game, including fish, fowl, and other critters. And Ken Fry, ODNR outdoor skills specialist, says it all began when he was cooking up such treats from the bed of a pickup truck with a pop-up tent at a Jefferson County farmers market a while back.

“It was so well-received that I presented the trailer idea to my supervisor and he liked it and said, ‘Let’s go with it,’” Fry says.

With World War I well underway, Fred Norton joined the Army after graduating from OSU in one of the earliest versions of what would become the U.S. Air Force.

Two weeks before he graduated from Lakeside High School in May 1912, Fred William Norton competed in the inaugural Ottawa County track meet.

Most kids of the day ended schooling and began working full-time after eighth grade. But Norton took a different path. He entered Lakeside High School (now Danbury High) in 1908. Along with track, he also competed in football, baseball, and basketball, and he carried a 4.0 academic average all four years there. 

According to the Lakeside Heritage Society, he also worked for a local railroad, operating a locomotive and cleaning and repairing buildings and equipment. He often clocked 10-hour days, six days a week.

Experienced Klier crew members place long steel beams beneath a structure, then slowly raise it.

Jim Klier has been a mover for 39 years.

Klier has moved plenty of homes for lots of different reasons — some legal, like for zoning issues; others more sentimental. Klier’s moved a lot of older homes. Much older. Like an 1813 timber frame home on Lake Erie.

“Oh, heavens yes,” he says. “A home that’s been in the family for generations, for example. You really have to love the house to do something like that, to go through that process.”

Wildlife Officer Reid Van Cleve is a veteran of the survey.

Mostly in life, possums, skunks, groundhogs, and racoons don’t get much respect. That’s especially so for the ones who spend their last earthly moments on Ohio roadways, just before they get hit. 

Katie Dennison is a research biologist for the Ohio Department of Natural Resources’ Division of Wildlife. At the Olentangy Research Station in Columbus, she oversees the annual Furbearer Roadkill Survey. And yes, that’s the official name.

LEAKOIL invites its members and other owners of classic Volkswagen buses to gather, gawk, and gush over the classic cultural icons often associated with road-tripping, hippies, and the peace movement.

Love of kombi is an affliction that runs deep and can span decades — ask anyone who suffers. Specifically, ask those who assemble at the Kelleys Island 4-H campground each autumn for LEAKOIL’s annual weekend camping event, Kombis on Kelleys.

Esquivel said there are disadvantages to owning an old bus, including the “old rust-bucket” itself (as she describes her 1972 camper) and the constant attention it requires. 

“People are always saying, ‘I love your car!’ and ‘Can I look inside?’” she says. “Of course, I always let them. And people offer to buy it all the time, too, but I would never sell it.”

Funny cars are one of the crowd favorites at Dragway 42.

Jeff Gates, a tool and die maker from Republic, was hoping to introduce his 1965 Ford Ranchero to the world during Thursday Night Thunder on this fine evening at Dragway 42 in the Wayne County village of West Salem. The car, however, had other ideas.

When asked if he couldn’t just drop it off at a local garage and have them repair it, the veteran racer laughs. 

“No, this is the fun part,” he says. “At least most of the time, so long as you get to run them every now and then. I just enjoy building this stuff.”