I pull away from my father’s house in a U-Haul stuffed with my Ohio life in its entirety, and Geoff and I say our goodbyes in the driveway. It’s more emotional than I expect it to be.
This house is the longest-standing home in my life. My dad bought it over 20 years ago and he and I refurbished it together. After he died in 2022, I moved in and spent the next few years putting work into a house that had seen years of neglect. Fixing what needed fixing. Making it right again. And now I’m handing the keys to someone else and driving south with everything I own in a 26-foot truck.
I’m 51 years old. I’ve lived in Ohio for 48 of those years. And today, for the first time, I don’t have a reason to come back.
One Foot in Each State
For the last 15 years, I’ve always had a home in Ohio and somewhere else. An apartment in Atlanta. A place in New York. Phoenix. Chicago. Ohio was always the anchor. The other place was where the work was.
When Dana and I bought the house in Alabama in 2024, the pattern continued. I’d spend 8-10 days a month in Ohio to be with my son Oliver. Garrett is already off to college, but Ollie still had school, still had his routine, and I’d made an edict years ago that no matter where I was working, I’d always be home for my time with them.
Back when they were younger and their mom and I were newly divorced, I got a job in Atlanta I couldn’t pass up. So I commuted. Monday through Wednesday in Atlanta, then home to Cleveland for my nights and weekends with the boys. I was always there to pick them up from school. Always. No matter what city was paying my salary, Cleveland was where I showed up when it mattered.
The last few years have been different. Garrett turned 16 and could drive himself, then went off to college. Oliver got his license last year. When I talk to their mom about whether I’m spending enough time with them, she says “Doug, I barely see them when they’re here at my house too.” That’s just what happens when your kids grow up.
So the U-Haul today isn’t really about moving. I moved to Alabama two years ago. This is about letting go of the last thread connecting me to a place I’ve called home for almost five decades.
The U-Haul Full of Memories
I’d already bought everything I need for life in Alabama. Dana and I have a fully furnished house with everything two people and a Bernadoodle could want. So the stuff in this truck isn’t practical. It’s the Ohio stuff. The things I’ve carried from place to place since I first moved out at 18. Through two marriages. Through every apartment and house and city. The things you collect along the path of a life.
My “second set” of everything from all those years of living in two places had already landed in Alabama over time. The storage garage in Tuscaloosa is proof of that… packed to the ceiling. But this load is different. This is the original set. The stuff that was always in Ohio because Ohio was always home.
Until today.
Why Tuscaloosa
Dana grew up outside of Birmingham, went to college at the University of Alabama, got a job in Tuscaloosa after graduating, and never left. Her dad moved down to be close to her… he’s about 8 minutes away and we see him often. She has no other family, so staying close to her dad matters. That’s why we’re in Tuscaloosa. It’s that simple.
When we first started dating, I knew it’d go one way or the other. It’s a lot easier to get a Yankee down south than it is to get a Southern Girl up north. And when I saw the cost of housing in Tuscaloosa, I was hooked. My property taxes are exactly 10% of what I was paying in Shaker Heights for the last 30 years. Ten percent. That’s not a typo.
The Culture Shock
Things move slower in Alabama. Gone are the days where I order something on Amazon at 9am and it’s on my door by 2pm. That took some adjusting.
But the people. The people are kind in a way that sneaks up on you. It’s not that people in Cleveland are mean… they’re not. But when you take a step back and pay attention, people in the South are kind at their core. I find myself saying “Sir” and “Ma’am” a lot more than I ever did, and I was raised to say those things. We even say “Sir” to our dog, Arnold.
The deep red politics are real. You can’t walk into a restaurant without Fox News on a screen and people glued to it. I keep my thoughts on politics and religion to myself and we all get along just fine.
I know when the students are in town because every restaurant we go to is packed on weekends. Other than that, they stay over on campus and Tuscaloosa feels like a small city that happens to have a major university in it.
One thing that’s genuinely funny… I miss buying lottery tickets. No gambling of any kind in Alabama. Dana and I always grab tickets when we cross into Georgia or Tennessee. It’s a small thing, but it’s one of those quirks you don’t think about until it’s gone.
The Drive
I enjoy the 12 hours alone in the car on the drive between Alabama and Ohio. It’s thinking time. No meetings. No Slack. No one needs anything. Just me and the road and whatever audiobook I’m working through.
And I enjoy the time alone with Oliver when I get there. Just the two of us. He’s 17 now and these trips have a shelf life that’s getting short. In a few months, there won’t be a reason to make the drive anymore. Not a mandatory one, anyway. I’ll still visit my mom and my brother, but that’s different. The edict I set for myself 13 years ago… “I will always be there for my time with the boys, no matter where I’m working”… that mission is almost complete. They’re almost grown.
I’m not sure what it’ll be like to step out of Ohio for the last time knowing I don’t have to come back. I’ve known this day was coming for 13 years. I’m still not ready for it.
But Today
Today the house closed. The U-Haul is packed. Ohio is in the rearview mirror. And I’m driving toward a life that’s fully in one place for the first time in a decade and a half.
I have Dana. I have Arnold. I have a home I love in a town that’s kind to me. I have a server rack in my closet and more ideas than I have time to build. I haven’t had to shovel sunshine off my driveway once.
It’s a good place to start over.