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."

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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