Cleveland is the city… Part II: I Heart Cleveland

My brothers used to hold the summer olympics in our backyard. I have no memory of this but I’ve watched the videos and it looks like we all had a blast. Mainly them, of course, as I was very young.

My dad used to play catch with us. When I was finally old enough, he would play t-ball with me and I always scored a home run.

My mom used to get mad at us when we would interrupt her on the phone. She would stomp her foot on the kitchen floor.

One of my brothers cracked his head open on one of the rocks by the side of the road. My mom tried to clean it up with a paper towel. It was disgusting.

My oldest brother taught me how to ride my bike down without training wheels.

A couple of years later, I flew off the handle bars of the very same bike only to be rescued by both of my brothers.

My brothers and I would play basketball. One brother could shoot a 3-pointer and my other brother could toss it in backwards every time. I threw it from between my legs and hoped it got somewhere near the hoop.

The three of us would ride around on our big wheels. When they were too old to play with me, I put my dolls in the basket on the front of my big wheel.

My brothers and I would build forts in the mound of snow the plow man made. Sometimes we would sled down the giant pile only to keep sliding well after the pile had ended and on to the icy driveway.

There were countless chameleons buried in the woods. Some fish. And one hamster. RIP to all of our faithful pets.

When my brothers grew up and didn’t play anymore, I played in the woods. I built a hut, I made a campfire ring and I pretended that I was in the backcountry, on my own. I filled up the glass Coke bottles my parents had saved in the garage and drank the water from the creek. Eek.

We took trips to the zoo with our cousins. We had slumber parties on the floor in my brother’s room.

My brother used to drive me to school in his Dodge Lancer and listen to Billy Joel. I thought he was so cool.

My other brother drove me to school in his tomato red Tauras and blasted his stereo. I thought he was so cool, too.

My mom used to bowl. She would take me to the bowling alley and I would eat grilled cheese cut into squares.

My parents had horrible beer in the refrigerator in the basement. I have no idea how many years it had been in there. All three of the siblings drank some of it at one point or another in our youth. Blech.

My father’s liquor in his liquor cabinet was mostly water.

My friends and I would hang out at the mall on Saturdays after bar/bat mitzvah services, before it was time to get dressed for the party that evening.

When I was learning to drive, one of my brothers told me that I was hugging the curb and asked me if I wanted other drivers to think I was a grandma. I only drove like that because I managed to get low price auto insurance and I thought that by driving too close to the middle of the road I might bump or scratch someone and then my premiums would shoot up. I drive close to the center line now. As for whether or not my driving has improved, if we are being honest, I have considered signing up to one of the defensive driving schools in ny. I will be the first to admit that my driving skills still need work!

I ran away from home once. I climbed a tree in our front yard.

My dad “burnt” chicken noodle soup one Sunday afternoon. He picked me up from temple and left the soup covered on the stove. We got a flat tire on the way home and an hour or so later we got to eat the brown concoction. Turns out it was just a beef bouillon cube. He did not, in fact, burn the soup.

My mom and I went to the mall when I was little. I would play in the clothes rounders and ultimately lose my mom’s legs. I would panic but she always found me.

We always had enormous piles of presents for Chanukah. And we each had our own Menorah.