Make It Weird, Keep It Standing: My Official Ballot for Ohio's Best Odd Landmarks

Every state has monuments. Ohio has things — giant, baffling, beloved things bolted to rooftops and planted in front yards, usually built by somebody who had more vision than permission.

I've spent the better part of a year crisscrossing the state to assemble a ballot, and I've come away convinced of two things. First: Ohio might be the weirdest-per-capita state in the union. Second: these landmarks are fragile, and we should treat them like the civic treasures they are.

Here's my official top ten. Argue with me in the comments — that's half the fun.

The Ballot

1. The World's Largest Basket, Newark. The former Longaberger headquarters is a seven-story picnic basket, and if you've never rounded a highway curve and seen it looming over the landscape, I can't explain it to you. It's been through some uncertain years lately, which is exactly why it tops this list — the big ones need defenders most.

2. The Brass Bed on the Barn Roof, somewhere in the southwest. Nobody fully agrees on why it's up there. That's the point. It's a Rorschach test at 60 miles an hour.

3. The Cheshire Straddle-Leg Water Tower. Yes, it's a water tower. It's also legs. Infrastructure doesn't have to be boring, and Delaware County proved it.

4. The Field of Concrete Corn, Dublin. 109 ears of corn, sculpted in concrete, standing in a field next to an office park. Absurd? Sure. But it honors the farmland that was there first, which is more than most office parks can say.

5. The Giant Lawn Mower, Lexington. A monument to the humble Saturday chore, built at a scale that says "we take mowing seriously here." Respect.

6. The World's Largest Cheese, lore of multiple claims. Ohio has argued about this for decades, which honestly makes the argument itself the landmark.

7. The Hollowed-Out Sycamore You Can Stand Inside, near Chagrin Falls. Nature did this one, but a local family has quietly maintained access for generations. Landmarks don't need to be built to be protected.

8. The Mystery Spot Parking Lot Painted Like a Quilt, Appalachic Ohio. A church parking lot painted as a barn quilt square, photographed by more tourists than the church itself.

9. The Dinosaur Made of Car Parts, Toledo area. Scrap metal, transmission housings, a T-rex pose. Every rust belt state should have one.

10. The Unfinished Statue That Everyone Agrees Should Stay Unfinished, small town, big opinions. A local sculptor passed away mid-project decades ago, and the town voted to leave it as is. It's perfect. Don't touch it.

Why Weird Landmarks Deserve Protection

Here's my actual argument, beyond the fun of the list: these things are economic engines, identity anchors, and the cheapest tourism infrastructure a town can have. People don't detour 40 minutes for a normal water tower. They detour for a basket.

And unlike a museum, a weird landmark can't be rebuilt. The basket took a basket company. The bed took a farmer with a grudge and a welder. Once it's gone, it's gone, and the town becomes one exit closer to interchangeable.

So here's my proposal: towns should formally nominate their oddities. Put up a plaque. Get it on the map apps. Zoning boards, think twice before you make a giant lawn ornament jump through variance hoops — that bed on the barn roof is doing more for local pride than any welcome sign ever will.

Your Turn: Send Me Your Town's Oddity

I know this list is incomplete. That's where you come in. Every reader of this site knows about some overlooked oddity — the fiberglass critter behind the feed store, the rock shaped like something, the sign that's been misspelled since 1974 in a way nobody will correct.

Send it to us. Tell us where it is, what it is, and why it matters to your town. We'll take the best submission, load up the car, and write a full road-trip dispatch featuring your landmark — photos, backstory, and the local legend behind it.

Ohio built the weird. Now let's keep it standing.