Photo by laszlo-photo (flickr.com)
This is the first of a series of posts written as letters to my daughter.
Cleveland is rock n roll in everyone’s heart. Cleveland is jazz driving down the street in winter. Cleveland is rap for all the kids and R&B for all their grandparents. Cleveland is gospel on Sunday morning. Cleveland is an orchestra at Christmas.
Cleveland is steel. Cleveland is dirty. Cleveland is noisy. Cleveland smells bad. Cleveland is gray. Cleveland is cold. Cleveland is work. Cleveland is hard.
Cleveland is seagulls. Cleveland is brickwork. Cleveland is bridges. Cleveland is coming in from the cold. Cleveland is the beach. Cleveland is the Tribe. Cleveland is the Browns. Cleveland is LeBron.
Cleveland is Harvey Pekar and his stinky pages. Cleveland is the Pretenders on drive-time radio. Cleveland is Rockefeller Park with no one in it. Cleveland is the man selling lion-print area rugs on the corner of Lee and Miles. Cleveland is the saxophone player honking outside the Galleria. Cleveland is the thousands of office workers ignoring the saxophone player honking outside the Galleria. Cleveland is the teenager going to the Grog Shop. Cleveland is a woman waiting for the bus. Cleveland is people walking toward a stadium on a Sunday afternoon chanting, “Here we go Brownies, here we go.” Cleveland is a woman from Ukraine shopping at Marc’s.
Cleveland is a newspaper. Cleveland is a billboard. Cleveland is a mural. Cleveland is a church. Cleveland is a bar. Cleveland is a highway. Cleveland is a tree lawn. Cleveland is a train.
Cleveland is Carnegie. Cleveland is Euclid. Cleveland is the corner of East 9th and Prospect. Cleveland is East 238th. Cleveland is Apt 9 on Hampshire. Cleveland is the Shoreway. Cleveland is Dead Man’s Curve.
Cleveland is pierogis. Cleveland is stadium mustard. Cleveland is a panini. Cleveland is beer. Cleveland is pop. Cleveland is corned beef. Cleveland is soul food. Cleveland is a Cuban sandwich on Detroit.
Cleveland is everyone knowing every song. Cleveland is everyone knowing every band. Cleveland is my freshman roommates in college and all the people they introduced me to.
Cleveland is walking to temple on Saturday. Cleveland is Halloween always on Halloween night. Cleveland is the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Cleveland is the Feast of the Assumption.
Cleveland is Marlena learning to read. Cleveland is Julius touching my hand. Cleveland is Crazy Irene looking up at me through her glasses. Cleveland is Joaquin visiting for the summer.
Cleveland is where we were when we fell in love. Cleveland is where we were when our hearts were broken. Cleveland is where we started over. Cleveland is where we married. Cleveland is where Esther has always lived. Cleveland is where everyone came to join us. Cleveland is where we were when we thought about you before you were born. Cleveland is where we will bring you home.
This is the first of a series of posts written as letters to my daughter.
Cleveland is rock n roll in everyone’s heart. Cleveland is jazz driving down the street in winter. Cleveland is rap for all the kids and R&B for all their grandparents. Cleveland is gospel on Sunday morning. Cleveland is an orchestra at Christmas.
Cleveland is steel. Cleveland is dirty. Cleveland is noisy. Cleveland smells bad. Cleveland is gray. Cleveland is cold. Cleveland is work. Cleveland is hard.
Cleveland is seagulls. Cleveland is brickwork. Cleveland is bridges. Cleveland is coming in from the cold. Cleveland is the beach. Cleveland is the Tribe. Cleveland is the Browns. Cleveland is LeBron.
Cleveland is Harvey Pekar and his stinky pages. Cleveland is the Pretenders on drive-time radio. Cleveland is Rockefeller Park with no one in it. Cleveland is the man selling lion-print area rugs on the corner of Lee and Miles. Cleveland is the saxophone player honking outside the Galleria. Cleveland is the thousands of office workers ignoring the saxophone player honking outside the Galleria. Cleveland is the teenager going to the Grog Shop. Cleveland is a woman waiting for the bus. Cleveland is people walking toward a stadium on a Sunday afternoon chanting, “Here we go Brownies, here we go.” Cleveland is a woman from Ukraine shopping at Marc’s.
Cleveland is a newspaper. Cleveland is a billboard. Cleveland is a mural. Cleveland is a church. Cleveland is a bar. Cleveland is a highway. Cleveland is a tree lawn. Cleveland is a train.
Cleveland is Carnegie. Cleveland is Euclid. Cleveland is the corner of East 9th and Prospect. Cleveland is East 238th. Cleveland is Apt 9 on Hampshire. Cleveland is the Shoreway. Cleveland is Dead Man’s Curve.
Cleveland is pierogis. Cleveland is stadium mustard. Cleveland is a panini. Cleveland is beer. Cleveland is pop. Cleveland is corned beef. Cleveland is soul food. Cleveland is a Cuban sandwich on Detroit.
Cleveland is everyone knowing every song. Cleveland is everyone knowing every band. Cleveland is my freshman roommates in college and all the people they introduced me to.
Cleveland is walking to temple on Saturday. Cleveland is Halloween always on Halloween night. Cleveland is the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Cleveland is the Feast of the Assumption.
Cleveland is Marlena learning to read. Cleveland is Julius touching my hand. Cleveland is Crazy Irene looking up at me through her glasses. Cleveland is Joaquin visiting for the summer.
Cleveland is where we were when we fell in love. Cleveland is where we were when our hearts were broken. Cleveland is where we started over. Cleveland is where we married. Cleveland is where Esther has always lived. Cleveland is where everyone came to join us. Cleveland is where we were when we thought about you before you were born. Cleveland is where we will bring you home.
4 comments:
It is! Cleveland really IS all of those things. I love this & can't wait to read what else you have in store for this lucky little girl.
Congratulations!!!!! I have a friend who went through the adoption process in China about 8 years ago.
Cleveland is home. Cleveland's a plum (...if New York's an apple). Cleveland is Christmas lights at Nela Park. Cleveland is school field trips to presidents' childhood homes. Cleveland is Euclid on one end and Lakewood on the other. Cleveland is drinking beer by the lake. Cleveland is where I hope to be by the time your baby girl comes home.
This is such a great gift to your daughter.
I am so happy for you both!
You had me at 'Dear'
WOW Mich! You make me heart Cleveland. Thank you for sharing !!!
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