Category: Rural America

Marcus, IA

Posted on Posted in Family, Iowa, Rural AmericaTagged , ,

A few weeks ago, I made an impromptu trip to Marcus, Iowa, to see the place my great grandparents raised their children. A howling frigid wind and the season’s first snowflakes greeted my arrival. Following some directions out of town, I came over a little hill with my car and saw the place. An old farm house among a group of leafless trees. I wasn’t positive but it felt right. This had to be the place.

The old farm struck me more than I thought it would. The stories my mom, grandmother, and great uncle tell started to make more sense. They emerged from the weird abstract place of stories you hear as a kid and became a reality. In the peeled paint, perseverance through the Great Depression. The looming wind turbines, unstoppable passage of time and change. Out the driveway and onto the gravel road, the kids who would serve in World War II, become parents, writers, nurses, artists, and schoolteachers.

Old farm buildings from a distance surrounded by a patch of leafless trees and agricultural fields.
Old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022.
Two story home with weathered peeling paint. Leafless trees stand behind. Brown grass and leafless shrubs are in front.
#half Farmhouse, old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022.
Rear of a two-story dilapidated farmhouse. Farm outbuildings and a wind turbine are in the distance behind it.
#half Rear of the farmhouse, old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022.
View to distant agricultural fields from between two small buildings.
View from two outbuildings, old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022.
The exterior of a corn crib with a small shack and wind turbine behind. The building is barn shaped and has weathered peeling white paint.
Corncrib, old Meylor farm. Marcus, IA. November 11, 2022.
A driveway leads to farm buildings.
#half Entrance to the old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022.
A gravel road runs into the distance through agricultural fields.
#half Gravel road near the old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022.

Ode to Sad Disco

Posted on Posted in Rural America, UrbanTagged ,

Mid February in Fremont, Nebraska. A place that has ghosts. If you believe in that sort of thing, anyway.

This group of photos is for Mark Lanegan, who passed away as I was working on these images. Fremont looks like his voice sounds. A baritone that is full of years. Many of them hard. Yet there’s a triumph in his darkest lyrics and melodies that will haunt me forever in the best of ways. Here’s to you, Mr. Lanegan. “Here I have seen the light.” Indeed.

View down a street to a grain silo and railcars. A brick building is on the right with a US flag on the end.
Fremont, NE. February 13, 2022.
A large blue and green circular storage container sit under a blue sky. Orange cones dot the foreground in front.
Fremont, NE. February 13, 2022.
Brick building painted dark yellow behind a road. A sign on one end reads, "Drop off Laundry." A billboard stands behind on the right.
Fremont, NE. February 13, 2022.
View down a paved road with a grain silo at the end. An electric pole looms in the foreground.
Fremont, NE. February 13, 2022.