A Clevelander always has his grill out, just in case it’s time to chill out. A cookout (don’t call it a barbeque) is the C-Town version of the ice cream social. At any one moment there are at least three of your neighbors that want you guys to come over, pop an Eliot Ness or four and throw some kielbasa over some hot coals. The weather is no matter. They have undoubtedly shoveled a path to the grill and left the driveway sit.
Every Clevelander secretly misses the fat Drew Carey. The one that was quick with the funny and dressed like he’d just eaten at Red Chimney and knew how to survive a winter. Sure they’re happy he did so well for himself and actually shaped up, but the new skinny Carey is all caught up in the West Coast--what with his fancy dancing, his elongated microphone and don’t even get them started on that “football club” he invested in.
Being a Browns fan isn’t something you choose, it’s something that has been with you since beginning. Rebuilding season or not, Clevelanders are a constant reminder that nepotism can be genetic and that “fan” is short for fanatic.
Clevelanders play as hard as they work, and nowhere is that more evident than at the billions of cornhole boards across the city. Who else in the world takes their backyard “sport” seriously enough to trot out trophies? The Cleveland Cornhole Champion, that’s who.
True Clevelanders are like the USPS of corned beef—neither rain nor sleet nor cardiac arrest will keep them from a sandwich at Slyman’s. And they will tell you that mountain of meat is the perfect meal after a hard day’s night, on a cold winters day or for … wait, why do you need an excuse to eat corned beef.
Man, all that hard work and scrapping makes a city dirty and dingy. But here’s the thing-- Clevelanders clean up real nice. Much like a diamond in the rough, pressure is what makes people shine and it’s the business men and women that, through their strength of mind and character, show why Cleveland entrepreneurs are to be emulated.
Cleveland rests in no-man’s land somewhere in the happy medium between the Midwest and the East coast so its people exhibit a beautiful blend of downhome ideals and fast-paced city life. What you wind up is with folks who are friendly enough to be polite but in enough of a hurry to be brusque.
Whether displayed prominently in a man-cave or tucked away safely in a time capsule, every proper Clevelander has a jersey with the name Baer-ga, Belle, Lofton or Ramirez. These same Tribesman will gladly recite to you the names of the starting lineup of the 97’ AL pennant team, and quietly stare off into the distance bereft with feelings for “That time at the Jake ...”
This city was built on the sturdy backs of countless men and women who aren’t afraid to get a little dirty. These Cleveland worker bees are as proud of their work as they are of the city they help to strengthen and grow. When they aren’t breaking their hump for the man, you can find them at McNamara’s washing down a shot with a cold draft and exchanging war stories or pontificating on the first move they’d make if they ever owned the Browns.
Make no mistake, Cleveland gets overlooked in the national spotlight, but Clevelanders’ true potential is revealed in their unrivaled resilience. Whether it’s taking a rust belt and turning it into a black belt of innovation or sweeping the leg of misconstrued preconceptions to rise to the top as a hotbed market and viable culture, Clevelanders are painfully aware of their struggles but always manage to wind up on top. Did we miss anything? Let us know what you think of Cleveland in the comments below.
