The New York Times was then an addictive little feature called “Metropolitan Diary,” a collection of reader-written musings with the big city as the backdrop.

Longtime Gotham observer-writer Adam Chandler once curmudgeonly described it as “a weekly collection of cloying city anecdotes, awkward poetry and the occasional gem.”

Each snippet is around 200 words, more or less, and begins “Dear Diary” before launching into the writer’s “only in New York” experience.

So, how does this have anything at all to do with Chagrin Falls and environs? Well, I’ll tell you. During our weekly meeting, the staff here at Window on Main Street approached us with an idea.

What if we ran a similar feature by local folks who believe while Chagrin Falls (and environs) is not as large or glamorous as New York, it does have the allure only small town life can offer.

Why not ask our readers to contribute their own local wisdom, experiences and musings? Then they presented us with a folder containing several neatly typed pages. These were their submissions for the first “Only in Chagrin Falls.”

In the meantime, for your consideration, the staff members present their version of Metropolitan Diary, which for local consumption goes by the title “Only in Chagrin Falls.”

The bus

“When we lived in Auburn Township, the kids and I sat in our old Gremlin keeping warm until the school bus arrived. I made up a song to keep us amused while we waited.

“‘Big yeller school bus comin’ down the pike takin’ all the kids away to learn to read and write. Big yeller school bus, my oh my, get too rowdy in the back and I’ll hit you in the eye.’

“It never ceased to amuse us, and we still sing it when we are together, which is not as often as I’d like.” – D. Singer

Of grave concern

“We had just moved onto Orange Street when my husband made an unnerving discovery while digging a garden spot in the backyard. A tombstone.

“Our neighbor, an old guy, told us it wasn’t unusual to find gravestones laying around because at the beginning of the town’s history, there was no official graveyard, so people buried their loved ones at home. When the new cemetery on South Franklin Street was established, some folks would re-bury their people for safe keeping, abandon the old headstone and have a new one made.

“We were adamant about getting it out of our backyard as soon as possible. It bore the name and dates of a little boy, who was born on the same date as our youngest son only 100 years apart.

“That was it. The headstone would not stay on our property another day, so we took it to the only place we could think of, the police station. The cop who helped us was understanding and took the stone.

“We thanked him and as we left he called, ‘Who ya gonna call, Ghost Busters.’” – B. E. Gaughn

Very special delivery

“The post office in Chagrin Falls wasn’t always a pit of despair. Chagriners worked there so we were apt to know one another or, at least, enough to greet by name.

“Before this Window on Main Street gig, I worked in a job that was on public display as a teller at a bank on Main Street.

“One day, a postman comes in and I recognized him as Walter, the guy who delivers my mail at home. We exchanged pleasantries, then I asked what I could do for him. He reaches in his bag and pulls out a package and hands it to me.

“‘I saw you going to work this morning and thought you might like this sooner than later when you got home.’

“I was rendered speechless, and I still think about Walter and how many postal laws he must have broken to be a good guy.” – Celia Stamps

Now it’s your turn. Send your “Only in Chagrin Falls” submissions to barb@ . They must be 200 words or less, be true and make us laugh, or at least smile.

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