All I Wanted To Do Was Go Look at Native American Pre-Columbian Earthworks in Ohio--So I Did! (Day 2)

What a difference a day makes!

The day before had been, if not quite Fool's Spring, mild enough that while packing for this overnight trip I'd considered not even bringing my coat, but eventually tossed it into the car anyway, because I'm no fool.

Well, I kind of *am* a fool these days--perimenopause brain fog is hitting me soooooo hard!--but not about the weather, at least.

But regardless, I was VERY glad to have that coat on this day, because look at the snow!

And, of course, the mound!

I promise that I DID do some non-mound activities with my daughter on this trip. We walked around Columbus, browsed a giant bookstore, ate hot chicken that bothered my stomach all night because I'm old, she got me to do an impression of Tor Thom doing the world's worst impression of Kip Grady from Game Changer, she egged me into griping so loudly about the Florida Panthers NHL team that a random guy glared at us (Panthers fans are everywhere, gag!), and just that morning I left my husband sleeping in our hotel room, picked her up from her apartment, and drove her back to our hotel to eat waffles and watch the Olympic men's hockey Gold medal match with me. I had not yet been outraged by the ham-handed misogyny of Team USA, and so we had a glorious time treating the breakfast buffet like a sports bar and cheering a bunch of jerks on to victory. 

But as much as I miss this kid when she's away at school, we're not really sit-and-yappers--you can yap just as well when you're poking around a pre-Columbian mound set in a cemetery next to an abandoned church!

I think it's so interesting to have a mound in a churchyard. The Fairmount Presbyterian Church was organized in 1834, so sayeth this History of Licking County.

I must warn you, though, that the same History of Licking County also sayeth this:

          The mound at Fairmont Church was a lookout mound and it was opened at one time but, I am told, it didn’t contain much. A number of smaller mounds like this have disappeared because of plowing fields over the years. In 1860 a keystone, a small triangular shaped sandstone engraved on both sides with Hebrew letters, was found in a mound near Newark. A Decalogue tablet was also unearthed in this mound. The tablet contained an abbreviated form of the Ten Commandments copied almost entirely from Exodus 20 in the Bible. For years, it was regarded as a hoax, but two Hebrew scholars along with some scientists confirmed it to be true. This tablet is seven inches long, black limestone, and was found in a circular light brown sandstone box with a whitish cement at the edges. The “Holy Stones” (five in number) were found near the intersection of Rt. 13 and Interstate 70 and at another location in Madison Township are still a subject of controversy, but scholars now think that perhaps people from the Mediterranean sea area reached this country in the days of the mound builders. This was long before Columbus came and these people left their messages carved on stones found in the Adena Burial Mounds as well as on rocks throughout North America.

 The author is referring to the Newark Holy Stones, which were a Big Deal back in the 1860s but have since gone the way of the various Oklahoma "runestones" that were talked about when I was a kid. 

Wait, it looks like some people are still talking about the Oklahoma runestones! I guess the Newark Holy Stones have just gone the way that the Oklahoma ones have NOT, lol!

Anyway... Vikings and runestones and Hebrew tablets and angel-human hybrids aside, I can't help but wonder what the congregation of the Fairmount Presbyterian Church thought about putting their Christian cemetery around that clearly pagan monument. It reminds me that when the Sutton Hoo ship burial was excavated, archaeologists discovered that people hundreds of years after that burial, long after all knowledge of it had passed, had been burying their dead around that then-mysterious mound, too. Did that feeling of awe that you get when looking at an ancient monument feel like religious sentiment? Was it the sense of ancient history and connection to the past that they thought translated well to a cemetery? Or did the place maybe just seem important, and that's what people wanted to connect with?

Regardless, it does make a lovely setting for photos, and I have to think that even though the mound is clearly being regularly mowed, it must fare better as cemetery property than it would have in a farm's acreage.

I need to come back here and take more photos on a sunny day!

Okay, remember this map of the earthworks as Squier and Davis saw them back in 1848?

So far, I'd seen most of what was remaining, i.e. the Great Circle (bottom right) and the Octagon and Circle (top left). But there's one little bit left that I hadn't yet seen...

Specifically, this bit!

The site is pretty depressing, bordered by a neighborhood, some kind of warehousy/factory-ish building, and a highway that, incidentally, used to be where the Ohio and Erie Canal ran instead:

The Goodwill at the top is where we got the kid a couple of shirts for job interviews and where I'm still pissed that I didn't buy two vintage green glass ashtrays. The kid said they were tacky, but what the hell does she know? The gas station in the middle is the closest parking I could find to the intersection of the street with the railroad tracks just north of it, which is where the semicircular earthwork on the Squier and Davis map was until it was demolished to make that street and railroad tracks. I hate civilization sometimes.

But still, we made the best of it and had a proper wander in that limited space:

The ridge that's running horizontally across the photo below is the top left edge of the square--I'm inside the square, and the kid is outside of it. The ridge in the background is the outside edge of the avenue that would have led straight towards that now-demolished semi-circle enclosure:

There's an opening where the two ridges meet, but I don't know if that's how it was originally. I also can't imagine that the original square and avenue earthworks were this short:

Because I'm curious and I waste my focus on that which is inconsequential, I even got into Google Earth's historical maps to see if maybe the ridges had looked different, taller or shorter or maybe more of the avenue was evident, 20 or so years ago, but it doesn't look like anything has really changed. And then I got VERY distracted looking for Kinzer Mound in South Salem, which is on the National Register of Historic Places but has its address redacted so I tried searching old Google Earth images, reddit and Facebook posts, property records for the name "Kinzer," etc., and never did find it, but I did waste almost two hours and there's apparently a cool covered bridge in South Salem that I now want to see, so there's that!

Here's me also checking Google Maps to see how far I'd have to walk and in what direction to get to the Great Circle and the Octagon:

The Great Circle is just about three-quarters of a mile from here, and the Octagon is about a mile and a half. Perhaps an adventure for another day!

P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, dog-walking mishaps, encounters with Chainsaw Helicopters, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!

All I Wanted To Do Was Go Look at Native American Pre-Columbian Earthworks in Ohio--So I Did! (Day 1)

Well, *technically* all I wanted to do was visit my college kid since she isn't coming home for Spring Break--but she's happy to tag along with any adventure, as is my husband, so that worked out just fine!

Honestly, though, my fever-pitch fervor for earthworks is SO bad. We'd barely rolled onto campus and hugged the kid's neck before I was all, "Sooo... y'all wanna catch up while we walk around Octagon Earthworks?"

Happily, they did!

I even got to play tour guide, because thanks to that time that I just happened to be driving the kid back to school on one of the four days a year that it was formerly open to the public (it used to be leased by a golf course that had, like, a million-year lease already signed, but now it's a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so Ohio was finally able to boot them and open it up properly to the public), I'm the only one who's been there before!

There's a viewing platform that elevates you a bit above the terrain so you can see some of the earthworks from above:

That's really important, because once you're in them the scale is so massive that it's very hard to visualize what you're walking within:

That outer perimeter isn't really there anymore, nor are the paths that lead away, but you can around walk inside the circle and the octagon.

Actually, I'm pretty sure that the Squier and Davis work that mapped the site is now old enough to be in the public domain, so here:

It's crazy that the site was mapped AFTER they built the Ohio and Erie Canal through part of it, but I'm going to talk more about that later, because OBVIOUSLY I went over there to investigate what was left.

Here it is also in outdoor banner format, lol, and yes, I DO want a large-scale weather-proof map just like this one!

It's so ridiculous that when the site was a golf course, that elevated viewing platform was the only place you were allowed to be to look at the earthworks, because you can barely see them from that platform! Here I am on the platform, looking straight ahead at the path that connects the circle to the octagon. To the left, if I crane, I can see the closer part of the circle, and to the right, if I crane, I can see the closer couple of walls and one mound from the octagon:

But now, THIS is my favorite sign here!

Octagon Earthworks is a lovely site to simply stroll around. Just as promised, we walked the inner perimeter while catching up and gossiping:

The trees wouldn't have been here when the site was in its original use, but there are a few trees that are allowed to grow presently. This site also used to be an encampment for the Ohio National Guard, then part of it was a potato field... and then came the golfers!

Three geniuses, one of whom is graduating with a degree in Environmental Science this May, another of whom still brags an awful lot about the very thorough Ohio state study she led her little homeschoolers through once upon a time, stared in bafflement at this nut for ages before one of us (not me, sigh...), finally said, "It looks kind of like that candy? Oh, it's a buckeye!"

These two really liked the open space within the octagon best:

You can sort of see one of the walls leading off into the distance to the left, but the rest is too far away. The space inside is so big!

I kept wandering off to go hug the little mounds that block the entrances, though. I love a little mound!

So, it's well-established that I love a dedicated, protected earthworks site. I mean, of course! But what I LOVE is a poky, little-known, obscure, under-studied earthwork that's encroached upon by modern civilization in some weird way. I really like that undercurrent of something other and ancient behind the trappings of the everyday. I also love the research aspect, because while these preserved earthwork sites are well-known and Googleable, most of the earthworks still extant are unstudied, poorly mapped, and largely forgotten. 

There are a couple of good historical resources for searching out the thousands of minor mounds in Ohio. The Archaeological Atlas of Ohio has a county-by-county map that's impossible to parse for specific locations, but does show the overall spread and general vicinity, as well as wealth of now-forgotten mounds. The book, for instance, says that the kid's college town used to have 20 known mounds, and now there is definitely just one! A more useable resource is this ZeeMap of Native Sites of Ohio, which looks to have placed the sites from the archaeological atlas onto a Google Map. Whenever I've been able to match one of its mounds with the real mound, they've lined up perfectly, but there are sooooo many sites on ZeeMap that also look like absolutely nothing in real life. Is the site simply gone, or is the ZeeMap location off?

Earlier this year, I treated myself to the very sketchily titled Nephilim Chronicles: A Travel Guide to the Ancient Ruins in the Ohio Valley, because boycotting the economy doesn't count if it's an independent, self-published author. If you can overlook the author's premise that the mounds are the burial sites of angel-human hybrids, it's actually a fairly contemporary guidebook to many of the minor mounds noted in that archaeological atlas and on the ZeeMap. 

And that's what I used to direct us here!

The mound is presented completely without context adjacent to a community sportsball field, but it's this one. 

Over 2,000 years old, and we can just drive up to it, walk around it, and then hop back in the car to head over to spend the evening at the biggest bookstore in Ohio.

Because boycotting the economy doesn't count if you buy it in an independent bookstore!

P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, dog-walking mishaps, road trips, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!

20 Hours in Ohio, and Free Doughnuts are a Lie

You do not have to work hard to convince me to take a trip with you, ESPECIALLY if you tell me that I can pick some of the stops.

So when the younger kid came to me with the information that the lead singer from her favorite band was going to be playing a concert in Columbus, Ohio--

--and she suggested that if we went, maybe I'd like to also do a little sightseeing along the way, she basically barely had time to put a period at the end of her sentence before I had concert tickets in my online shopping cart. 

And a couple of weeks later, there we were at this bar in Ohio!

Do you guys like to stand as close as possible at concerts, or are you calm and happy to stand at the back? I'm short, and I like to stand in the front so I can see, although a lifetime of this has definitely contributed to my current hearing loss and the front of the crowd, pressed against the stage, is the last place I'll want to be when the inevitable zombie apocalypse hits. Oh, well. I wasn't planning on surviving the zombie apocalypse, anyway...

Although Jake Ewald didn't play all the Slaughter Beach, Dog deep cuts that the kid had been hoping for, he did play one of their biggest hits, "Summer Windows"--

--so my own personal basic bitch self was satisfied:

I didn't know Ladybird before the concert, but this is my favorite song of theirs now:

The next morning, I picked our breakfast spot solely because of this TripAdvisor review that lauded the complementary DIY coffee bar and complementary serve-yourself doughnuts:



The DIY coffee bar was as indicated and was awesome, but y'all, the complementary serve-yourself doughnuts was a LIE!!!!! They did indeed have serve-yourself doughnuts, but you for sure had to pay for them. 

I think that TripAdvisor reviewer accidentally stole herself some doughnuts...

Ah, well. My doughnut-less but very en-coffeed breakfast was delicious:

Afterwards, I managed to snooker us into not one, but TWO sightseeing stops!

Obviously, if you're going to Ohio, you HAVE to visit an ancient Native American mound:

Shrum Mound is said to be an Adena burial mound--

--but as far as I can tell, it's never been excavated or even really researched, so I'm not sure how accurate that identification is. It's right next to a quarry, across the street from a housing development, and next door to another house, though, so probably its biggest claim to fame is that it wasn't destroyed the same way that whatever other earthworks were surely around it must have been. For example, there used to be a mound twice as tall at the intersection of Mound and High streets, but it was destroyed in the 1830s.

Here it is with me for scale!

Since it's roughly on our way home, I was also able to convince everyone to detour over to the Charles Young Buffalo Soldiers National Monument:

The kids and I have been here before, but didn't realize until we got there that back then it was open "by appointment only," so this is the first time I've stepped foot inside!

There weren't a lot of artifacts inside, but the signage was VERY informative. I didn't even realize until this moment that I didn't actually know what a buffalo soldier was!

Charles Young's story is very interesting, and I'd love to read a more substantive biography of him. Apparently, his whole life, during his education and his career, he suffered from systematic, institutionalized racism, and he just... persisted!

He did incredibly well for himself, and worked consistently to lift others up with him, but who knows what he could have accomplished if he hadn't been beaten down at every opportunity?

Racism is so depressing. Let's eat an apple fritter about it:

Will we be able to complete the Butler County Donut Trail in a timely fashion, considering that most of our trips to Ohio are for college drop-offs and pick-ups? 

I don't know, but I'm fully prepared to get diabetes trying!

P.S. Want more obsessively-compiled lists of travel spots and activities around the Midwest and the world? Check out my Craft Knife Facebook page!

I Read the Wright Brothers Biography, Because Wilbear Deserves to Know About His People

Flying at Huffman Prairie, 2017

The Wright Brothers by David McCullough
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This deep dive that I took into the early history of aviation was always going to lead me to David McCullough.

If possible, I highly recommend reading an in-depth biography like this AFTER visiting one or more of the places relevant to the subject’s life, because I think it’s even more fun in this case to read about a place I know than to visit a place I’ve read about. I’ve never been to Kitty Hawk (although I super want to someday!), but I’ve been in and around Dayton to see Wright Brother sites like their bicycle shop and printing office, Huffman Prairie, and the family gravesite, and more, in my devoted campaign to earn my beloved Wilbear. You can also visit the mansion they had built for themselves there after they got rich on Wright Flyer contracts, but for their original family home you have to go to Detroit, because Henry Ford bought it and moved it there.

original 1903 Wright Flyer in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum

Henry Ford also, by the way, once snookered his way into the shed where a Wright Flyer was being stored and got caught making measurements of it. Nothing ever came out of that, apparently, but it’s still hella suss.

As an only child, and the parent of two children who love each other but lead decidedly individual lives, I’m fascinated by the experience of two siblings (and sometimes three siblings!) who lived their lives so much in each other’s pockets that a single biography suffices for both. They’re like the Sam and Dean Winchester of manned flight! Do you think they ever had a conversation about their relationship or their future, or did they always just automatically pal up in a way that never needed voice put to it?

And they seem to have automatically palled up even in enterprises that only really interested one. The printing business was Orville’s baby, and although Orville complained a lot about Wilbur not investing his soul into it as much as he himself did, there never seemed to be any question of Wilbur popping off to, say, run his own business or get his own job and leave the boring printing stuff to Orville.

Wright brothers' printing office in Dayton

Instead, they seemed content as life partners, living their lives together just as happily--and probably a lot more equitably--as they’d have been with romantic life partners. When their sister Katharine went off to Oberlin and their dad was doing his traveling preacher thing (the only part of the book that I found too much and too boring was Dad’s preacher work--boring to read about, and also irrelevant as neither Wright brother’s life and works seemed otherwise notably informed by religious belief), the brothers seemed to live contentedly together in the family home, each sharing the load in a way that apparently satisfied them both. Here’s an excerpt from a letter Wilbur wrote to Katharine:

“Orville cooks one week and I cook the next. Orville’s week we have bread and meat and gravy and coffee three times a day. My week I give him more variety. You see that by the end of his week there is a big lot of cold meat stored up, so the first half of my week we have bread and butter and “hash” and coffee, and the last half we have bread and butter and eggs and sweet potatoes and coffee.”

I guess they at least had sweet potatoes often enough to prevent scurvy?

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Wright Brothers NMem (@wrightbrosnps)

Okay, I lied. I did think the part of the book in which the dad is fired from his preacher job because he was unwilling to accept Freemasons was interesting and hilarious. Seriously, what was UP with Freemasonry?!? They really had better be secretly housing the Holy Grail or some similar nonsense to have been worth all of these conspiracy theories.

When I started the book and read about the brothers’ early years, I thought that I was going to like Orville best. He was so mechanical-minded, even more so than his brother! He was always thinking up ideas of cool new stuff to try! Just between us, he was probably on the autism spectrum, and would have meltdowns when overstimulated and then have to go off and be quiet for a while.

But then… I dunno, Wilbur just really grew on me. It started when he was 17 and was hit so hard in the face by a future serial killer that he pretty much dropped out of school and gave up on his dreams to go to Yale and spent the next two years housebound, the full-time caregiver for his mother at the end of her life. How can you not be sympathetic to that much clear trauma?

Much later, his personality really shone through in the letters he wrote home while he was in France attempting to demonstrate the Wright Flyer and make deals with the French for its production. He mostly worked, because dude worked like a dog, but he also saw cathedrals and museums and tried new foods, and wrote about everything in an unaffected way. This is my favorite part of those letters:

“I was a little astonished and disturbed the other evening, when I sat down to dinner to find my soup which was a sort of noodle soup, turning into all sorts of curious forms and even letters of the alphabet. I began to think I had the ‘jim jams.” On close investigation I found that the dough had been run through forms so as to make the different letters of the alphabet and figures, too! It was like looking into the “hell box” of a printing office, and was all the more amusing because every mouthful of soup you take out, brought up a new combination.”

Wilbur Wright ate his first alphabet soup, and found it charming. How could the reader, as well, not be charmed by that?

Wilbur also impressed everyone who met him in France with his unflappable courage in simply going about his own business to demonstrate his flying machine, not letting anyone sway or influence him into flying when he didn’t think the conditions were absolutely perfect. McCullough gently hints that he seemed to worry that Orville wouldn’t do the same when he was demonstrating their flying machine back in America, and indeed, Orville does also hold the record for piloting the first fatal airplane crash…

You can see the original 1905 Wright Flyer in Dayton. 

Alas, Wilbur died shockingly young, at just 45, and whether it was grief or just his natural self coming through without any curbing force from his older brother, Orville began to impress me less and less as he aged. First, it was just him, his sister Katharine, and their dad in the family mansion, but when their dad died five years later, it was just him and Katharine for the next nine years. One day, though, Katharine told him that she was going to marry an old school chum from Oberlin and long-time friend to the entire family, and they were going to move to his hometown of Kansas City.

And Orville PITCHED A FIT.

This is where I’m so mad at him that I can’t forgive him. You know that woman kept house for all those men for all those years, even though she had a proper full-time job. Back when Orville had that bad plane accident that killed his passenger she’d even taken a leave of absence from her job and gone to nurse him back to health, sitting up all night, every night in his hospital room to make sure he was properly attended. She was as invested in their business as they were, often doing the social work that would usually have been expected of a wife. And when she wants to do ONE THING that is her idea and belongs to her, Orville has a tantrum that frankly makes him seem like an incestuous creep and refuses to speak to her ever again.

Even when he got word two years later that Katharine was dying, he refused to go see her. He eventually changed his mind and arrived at her bedside just before she died, but that is WAY too little, too late. Wilbur would have NEVER!

I don't know why I'm smiling like that in front of the Wright family gravesite, 2025

It’s interesting to me that although the Wrights proved the possibility of powered flight and flew the first airplanes, our airplanes aren’t really descendants of them, but more like cousins. Their major insight of changing the shape of the wing to steer is the key to powered flight, but the way they did it, by physically altering the shape of their airplane wings by sort of twisting the fabric-covered frames, wouldn’t really scale upwards--it was more of a proof of concept. Now we use ailerons.

Other fun facts from the book: the hobble skirt was created in imitation/homage to the first female airplane passenger, who tied a rope around the bottom of her skirt to keep it in place while she flew. While in France, Wilbur switched out his regular Ohio suit jacket for a black leather motorcycle jacket. When Neil Armstrong became the first human to step onto the Moon, he carried a swatch of fabric from that first successful Wright Flyer.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Jason McDowell (@cessnateur)

And here's the most special fun fact of all! Back when the Wright brothers were really starting to crack powered flight, nobody "important" believed them. They tried to interest the military numerous times, and kept getting back form letters that clearly indicated their original letters hadn't even been read. Word of mouth was spreading, obviously, because all you had to do was take the trolley over to Huffman Prairie and you could literally SEE them flying, but whenever anyone big and fancy heard about it, they'd dismiss it as rumor or lies or showmanship or whatever. It was part classism, I imagine, and also partly because the Wright brothers at that time, unlike the other people working on powered flight, *didn't* engage in any attention-catching showmanship. They just went about their business inventing powered flight and popping off the occasional letter to the military to see if they wanted to buy some airplanes.

Eventually, it was France who took notice, and France who invited Wilbur over to demonstrate his plane, and the French citizens who flocked to watch his demonstrations and waited patiently until conditions were just right and then LOST THEIR FUCKING MINDS when they saw it was real and praised and publicized Wilbur so hard that the dumb-ass Americans finally took their thumbs out of their butts and looked at what they had right there in their own heartland. 

But before that part, while the Wright brothers were still working out the kinks in their plane and spending every day out at Huffman Prairie, they did collect a small community of superfans among those who'd believed the rumors. One superfan was an old guy who ran the magazine Gleanings in Bee Culture up near Cleveland. He was THE superfan and would drive his literal Model T all the way down to Dayton, stopping every 10 miles to put more water in the radiator or oil in the oil thingy, just to watch the Wright brothers try to get their hunk of machinery off the ground. 

And then he'd go back home and, in the middle of his articles about bees and beekeeping, he'd write little anecdotes about what he'd seen! THIS is the guy who broke the news of sustained, powered human flight. The first story about the first sustained, powered human flight appeared in Gleanings in Bee Culture in 1905. 

One hundred and six years later, that same magazine, now shortened to just Bee Culture, bought a few of my beeswax candle tutorials, shitty photos and all. I just need to emphasize that I take MUCH better photos now. Bee Culture, I'd be happy to reshoot this particularly obnoxious set for free!

ANYWAY, that's how the Wright brothers and I came to be represented in the same magazine. The end.

P.S. View all my reviews

P.P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to weird old cemeteries, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!