Ask a Clevelander where they’re from and you may hear East Side or West Side before you hear Cleveland. The Cuyahoga has always divided more than geography.
It’s trips to the West Side Market, pierogi on the table, a Polish Boy buried under fries and slaw, ballpark mustard that tastes wrong anywhere else, and still calling it “pop.” It’s knowing the Terminal Tower belongs in the skyline and accepting lake-effect winter as part of the deal.
This one is for the Cleveland natives who eventually traded gray skies off Lake Erie for Mojave sun and built a life in Las Vegas.
The snow shovel may be gone. The Cleveland habits aren’t.
