Cle Plain Dealer Obits

Okay, let’s talk about something we all pretend we don’t read: the obituaries in The Plain Dealer. You know, the section that somehow becomes a guilty pleasure—like binge-watching a reality show, but with more flannel and fewer dramatic pauses. Let’s be real: these obits are the original social media feed. No filters, no hashtags, just pure, unvarnished life stories from Northeast Ohio.

I mean, where else can you learn that a retired tool-and-die maker from Parma once won a polka contest in 1972? Or that a Lakewood librarian had a secret talent for competitive yodeling? The Plain Dealer obits don’t just list dates—they serve up slices of humanity with a side of dark humor. It’s like reading Wikipedia, but for your neighbor’s grandma who always peed on your lawn.

And here’s the kicker: these obituaries are community gold. They’re the last word on who ate the most pierogies at the church picnic, or who could fix a leaky sink with duct tape and sheer will. You’ll find jokes about “survived by their beloved cat, Mr. Whiskers” and tales of “a life well-loved between Winking Lizard happy hours.” It’s honest, it’s weirdly cozy, and it reminds us that we’re all just temporary characters in a giant, ridiculous play—with really good Cleveland pizza.

So, next time you pick up the paper (or scroll the digital version), don’t skip the obits. Read them. Laugh a little. Cry a little. Then, think about what your own obituary would say. “She made a mean chili and never apologized for her opinions.” Now that’s a vibe. And if all else fails, just remember: in Cleveland, even the end of the line comes with a smile and a free coupon for a Polish Boy. Now go live your best life—and maybe call your mom.