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You Might Be From Parma If...

1. You've ever gift-wrapped a bowling ball.

2. The first time you saw ever saw a black person, was at a sporting event.

3. You own a Chevy and your wife owns a bus pass!

4. The first time you got your own bedroom was 5 years into your third marriage.

5. There is no Black and White, only white!

6. The richest family on your block is the one with a two-car garage and an above ground swimming pool.

7. Your kids have to climb a tree to get to their Easter Eggs.

8. You thought Charlie Brown had it pretty good.

9. The first dance you learned was the Polka.

10. Getting a College Degree meant going in the military!

11. Your favorite sportscaster ends every show with the phrase, "We'll get em next year."

Fear...



Some things are just downright scary. I mean, they make your gut feel like its made of lead. Your mouth dries out. Goosebumps on your arms; and then the hair stands up on the back of your neck.

On the way to a friends farmhouse, with a fishing pond in the back yard, we would take this long and lonely back country road. The drive would always take forever. I hated that road. Not because it was a road that differed from any other road in Medina County, Ohio. That had nothing to do with it.

Somewhere, down that long country road is a tree. Not just a normal tree, noooooo. This tree just happens to look like this huge, hairy, human hand sticking out of the ground. It towers above you and laughs. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" Its an evil laugh that lets you know that one of these times, when you are driving by on a moonless and foggy night, you and your car are simply going to disappear!

I could read the next day's Cleveland Plain Dealer: "MONSTER TREE WAKES! PARMA FAMILY GOES MISSING!
Then it would show a picture of a single, solitary converse all-star with a caption that read: "All that's left...."

The Mayor of Medina would be quoted, "We warned the County about that there tree! We even wanted to build the road so it went around it! But, we were told we would end up destroying the natural habitat of the endangered "three horned tree slug". What choice did we have!
Well, its always good to know that you worked your way so far up the food-chain that the only thing that stands between you and permanent destruction is a "three horned tree slug". To this day, I keep hoping that a Morton Salt Truck will spin wildly out of control on a back-county road in Medina, Ohio.

Anyway, I personally knew that beneath that hand was the rest of the monster's body. I knew that one day, maybe even today, he or she would figure a way out of the Medina clay soil that held it bound. Then there would be heck to pay in the quiet farmlands of Medina, Ohio!

"Knock, Knock."

"Who's there?"

"Jim Snert, candidate for Medina County Commissioner."

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Don't open the door! But, just like in the movies they don't listen! How stupid can you get! Jim Snert is running for County Auditor! This is just some huge, hairy, hungry tree monster looking for an easy meal! YOU ARE A SNACK, YOU FOOL! Not some registered voter being visited by some desparate politician looking for a few last minute votes at 3 AM in the morning on a foggy, moonless night!

Anyway, I don't know what happened to that hand shaped tree that looked like a hairy hand and towered high above you in the Medina sky. I figure I'm pretty safe out here in Utah. However, if you happen to be reading this from your cosy kitchen table anywhere in the vicinity of Medina, Ohio....be afraid! Be very afraid!
And make sure you are always carrying a disposable butane lighter in or about your person. Just in case!

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Bowling Ball Graveyard (Book Excerpt Favorite!)

Bowling Ball Graveyard
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Parma Ohio is the Center of the Bowling Universe. I remember as a kid, bowling every Saturday with the cub scouts at "Red Circle Bowling Lanes" on State Road at about 10:00 in the morning.
For those of you unfamiliar with the sport, it originated on the island of Muga Muga when a local native discovered that if he fed date pits to a giant Oyster, the beast would spit out this heavy round balls that could be used in battle against neighboring tribes.
Then, someone, figured out that you could improve your aim if you drilled "finger holes" into these giant pearls. Later technology demonstrated that heating the balls in boiled water made them not only smooth, but also reuseable!

The result was what the natives called "Boiling Balls".

Anyway, during times of peace, it was customary for the eldest daughter of the island chief to randomly select a mate from the 10 most eligible bachelors of the "Muga Muga" tribe. First, the men were lined up in a wedge formation. Then, the bride-to-be rolled the Boiling Ball into the group of potential husbands, hoping to "Strike" the one she wanted.

In the case of an ugly woman, all 10 men hoped to be "Spared".

In the case of a real ugly woman the end result was always a "Split".

Now, the lowliest of professions on the island of Muga-Muga was that of a goat-herder. Thus, the one thing that the Princess never wanted was a "Goat-herd" ball.

Eventually, the game grew in popularity among the lowest classes on the island. Because of the poverty of the participants, it became known as "Ten Peons".
Anyway, back to Parma.

One of the challenges of bowling balls is disposing of them once they are no longer able to be used. So, Mayor Pierogi and the "ten wise men" that sat on City Council decided to call a special town meeting to discuss the problem.

The result, was the still infamous "Bowling Ball Disposal Act of 1973". This City Ordinance mandated the following:

1. All new housing construction in the City of Parma must aesthetically incorporate the use of a "Bowling Ball motiff" in their architectural plans.

2. The practice of "rolling" old bowling balls down State Road Hill in the hopes of picking off foreign imports will hereinafter be banned without a seasonal license.(With the exception of Yugos and "Karman Ghias")

3. No funeral shall be finalized until the "coffin inspector" verifies that any "unused space" is filled in a "respectable" way with old bowling balls.

4. "Bowling Balls shall herinafter replace plastic Easter eggs as the decoration of choice for all "Easter Egg Trees". The City of Parma will now host the annual "bowling ball hunt"

5. City Hall employees will now be required to proudly wear "T-Shirts" that promote our official "Got Bowling Balls" slogan. Any employee that deletes the word "Bowling" will be severely disciplined.

Unfortunately, the laws were a dismal failure. An underground bowling ball "black market" seemed to spring up overnight. Before you could say, Jack Rabbit, bowling balls were "disappearing" overnight and reappearing at the bottom of Ridge-Wood lake wearing a pair of "Concrete Overshoes". (Thus preventing them from ever floating to the surface).

The most creative use of old "bowling balls" was the decision to use them as a temporary "pothole" filler; Thus generating the old Parma Proverb....

"If the potholes don't get ya the bowling balls will."

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"Heaven and Hell in Parma, Ohio"

Those that remember the Amityville Horror movie about a possessed home in New York, that was built over a graveyard, will appreciate this next story.

When we were young, our parents decided it was time to visit the ultimate Spiritual Mecca for most Americans. A place where you could commune with the supernatural. A place where they practiced the ancient arts of levitation, divination and alchemy (changing lead into gold). Yes, we had decided that it was time. Time to make the long pilgrimage to Disneyworld in Florida.

So, in typical spiritual pilgrim style we acquired enough provisions to last us a few weeks and rented "It". Now, you may ask, what was "It", or what is "It" or why I even want to discuss "It". "It" no longer matters, so we will just leave "It" in the past where "It" belongs. Oh well, I guess I can't avoid "It". But I will not give "It" a name.

"It" was a good size, luxury home complete with all the amenities. "It" had a working bathroom with hot and cold water and a flushable "you know what" (this was considered "state of the art" at the time). "It" could sleep eight comfortably and had a kitchen table that folded down into a bed.

As we made our way down the Pennsylvania Turnpike with the other Ohioans in search of the divine, I remember thinking, "I can't wait for this thing to warm up, its freezing in here!" No sane, intelligent, family from Parma, Ohio would go to Disneyworld in the summer, or even over the holidays.

You see, the whole purpose for going to Disneyworld in the first place, was to walk into school and hand your teacher the "illusive golden ticket". You felt like Charlie Bucket when she waved it in front of the entire class and exclaimed, "Well class, it looks like Mr. Drockton is heading to Disneyworld for the next two weeks!" What she said and what the class heard, however, were two different things altogether:

All your classmates, with head in hands, looked up from their Basic Readers; which discussed such mundane topics as "Spot" and "Jane" and "Dick" all running, walking, or in some other way, forever glued to a one syllable verb. With pointed jealosy in their eyes, it was like you could actually read their thoughts:

"Lucky $%^^^#@, my dad's been with the Pierogi investigation division of the Parma Health Department for over three years now, and he won't even let me talk about Disneyworld! The poor guy can't even watch the commercials or "The Wonderful World of Disney" without changing the channels."

Another (this one, a cute girl that never could remember your last name): "I knew you would make it one day! This hard world could never keep a man like you pinned down in the mud, the sweat and the soot! Remember me! Remember me! When you return from your glorious journeys!" (smooches soon to follow, with a candy valentine heart that read, "Your my apple Fritter" or some other romantic nonsense.

"I hope I fed my hamster. Oh well, its too late now! There's no way the teacher's going to let me out of school for THAT! Not with ol Charlie Bucket waiving about his golden ticket like it was a trip to the moon."

Then came the magical command, "Well, I guess we will see you in two weeks, Mr. Drockton." (sigh)

What you heard, on the other hand was, "Run, Charlie! Run like the wind! And don't stop to talk with anybody until you get home! Got it?"

(to be continued...)

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(Book Excerpt) The Great Parma Pierogi Famine!

For the unitiated, the Parma Pierogi is a unique delicacy made by wrapping saurkraut (my personal favorite), cheese or potato inside of a delicious doughy pocket. Now, there have been numerous attempts to alter this combination (one individual reportedly tried Post Grape Nuts(TM), but most of these have proven to be dismal failures.

Now one now notorious Parma-ite, Nelson Pierogifellow, decided that he and his company, "Standard Pierogi" were going to consolidate and monopolize the Parma Pierogi Market.
First, they started out by buying up the small "Pierogi-Eazies" that specialized in late-night, so called "bathtub" Pierogis. Most of these had existed since Pierogibition (or Pierohibition, the old-timers used the h instead of the g).

Then , in a most sinister manner, other retailers either joined "Standard Pierogi" , and exchanged their secret recipes for shares of "common stock" in the monopoly, or, their saurkraut and cheese shipments simply disappeared ! The more reticent tried to "convoy" in the badly needed supplies. These were viciously attacked by "Pierogi-jackers", who came out of nowhere and then disappeared into the night!

On the commodity markets, the Parma Pierogi was quickly outperforming hog-bellies and heating oil futures. Creative black marketeers realized they could make a hefty profit by emptying out Hostess (TM) fruit pies and filling them with Saurkraut, Potato or Cheese. Others tried to dilute or "cut" their so-called Pierogis with oregano or "milk sugar".

Hoping to force the stock price of Standard Pierogi even higher, Nelson cut back on production. Many employees were placed on short-term layoff. Profits soared! Unfortunately, for the little guy, so did the price of pierogis. "Brother, can you spare a Pierogi?", was played repeatedly over the Parma radio airwaves.

Some migrated to a mythical land across the sea where the roads were reportedly "paved with pierogis". Others, lacking in such high ideals, looked for cheaper alternatives. It didn't help much either when Vice Presidential Candidate, Edwin Muskie, declared Northern Parma a "Pierogi-free national recreational area".

Finally, Mayor John Pierogi (who had reportedly already sold his "Standard Pierogi" (TM) stock and was now "short" selling pierogi futures) stepped in and ordered that Standard Pierogi needed to be busted up into smaller "competing" companies.

The resulting "baby Pierogis" never quite showed a profit. But, for most Parma-ites, the days of Schlitz Malt Liquor and potato pierogis, had finally returned!

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Dear Crazy Cat Lady:

Dear "Crazy Cat Lady":

For those unitiated, this is our weekly advice column:

Q: Dear Crazy Cat Lady: Why do They Call You the "Crazy Cat Lady?" (B.O. from Brooklyn, OH)

A: I used to own 124 cats. But, I gave 3 away. So now I'm down 3 from my all time record! Crazy, isn't it? What crazy cat lady would part with three adorable cats! But, hey, there's a war on and sacrifices have to be made. So I said to myself, "Self", you have to do your part to "bring the boys back home". It just wasn't right, 124 cats dining on shrimp and prime rib while our men and women in uniform are living on K-Rations and camel's milk! Dag gummit! (Where did I put my dentures? I know I left them somewhere around here?) Well anyway, what was I writing about? Oh, never mind!

Q: Dear CCL: My neighbor disappears for days at a time. When he returns, its usually way late at night and he usually has "stuff" in big burlap bags that he buries in his backyard . He is older middle age, and has a habit of singing "Don't hang under the apple tree, with anyone else but me." Should I be alarmed? (Monica in 7-Hills)

A: Dear Monica: "Heavens no Dearie! I can carry at least 2 twenty five pound bags of catfood on my shoulders without even breaking a sweat! If he wanted your help he would ask for it! Why, when I was your age, I would walk to school and back everyday! (I lived in Parma, but I went to the Toledo School for ....oh never mind!). I would keep an eye on his cat though, if the poor thing falls in the hole before the burlap bag....well, lets just say, "every life is sacred", if you know what I mean!

(Private to G.T.): "There's more to life than a marriage that's lasted over 45 years! If he doesn't want to pay $7,500 for allergy shots, and his medications are no longer covered by the Government, I say you and shnookums are better off without him!"

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