I grew up in Cleveland, Jerry. I remember the sky pitch black from the Ford plant smokestacks, and the Cuyahoga River was multicolored rainbow ribbons of sludge and chemical colors, dead carp, and stench. Then it caught fire and it was all better after that. A few river burns throughout the year became a social event.
Some have told me that I am a product of my environment. I take it as an erie compliment.
