“It’s true. I promise.”

“What a load of bologna, Teddy. You don’t expect me to believe that crock. Now tell me the truth.”

“Really, Dad. A spaceship picked me up and I lost my homework.” Teddy held out his arms. “But I’m fine. See. They didn’t even hurt me.”

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “bologna.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “Bologna”

  1. Bologna immediately brings to mind a village in Italy. When I was young I was completely unaware such a village existed. As a kid growing up in New York every Saturday my mother would haul my brother and me in the early morning hours over to the supermarket for weekly groceries. As a treat she would always purchase cold cuts and pickles for sandwiches when we returned home in time for lunch. One of the cold cuts she would buy was bologna. I hated it! Reflecting back I realize because she was the sole financial support, and every other kind of support, in our family of three bologna was cheaper than let’s say roast beef or ham. Frankly, I would have preferred plain old yummy soft and gushy peanut butter to bologna. But what did I know then? The other very familiar usage of the word bologna was spelled “baloney” and we loved calling someone a “phony baloney” when we thought they were fibbing about something. That was a very, very popular phrase we all used. We could be heard singsonging it: “phony baloney, phony baloney; you’re a phoney baloney.”

  2. Bologna is both a place in Italy and a popular lunch meat. As a kid, I was a PICKY EATER and didn’t enjoy a bologna sandwich. As a teenager, whenever my mother caught me in a lie (which wasn’t very often, considering how many lies I actually told), she’d say I was “full of bologna”. So I guess bologna is also a euphemism for bullshit.

  3. I didn’t know that a little Italian town was called Bologna until I was thirteen. That was the year I discovered maps after being geographically blind for much of my childhood. The other kids picked on me whenever I gave the wrong country on a map quiz, much to my chagrin. I lived by my father’s motto then: “If it can’t help you get a job, then don’t bother.” After all, geography could only get you hired in one of two places: surveying departments and schools, both of which made me sick.

    When I looked up and down the curves of the hobnailed boot labeled Italy on the world map in one of the library’s numerous atlases, I traced a finger around the “toe” and went along the heel until I found what I thought was a typo. Curious about this, I rushed the dead-weight volume up to the librarian, a squat old woman with thick red-rimmed glasses, and showed her what I thought was a major mistake on the publisher’s part.

    “How could they misspell a town after lunch meat?” I asked the librarian with an indignant need to right this apparent wrong.

    The librarian pushed up her glasses, chortled, and told me “That’s not a typo, that’s actually the name of the town.”

  4. I’ve never had the privilege of visiting Bologna, Italy. Come to think of it I’ve never met any Bolognese at all. I have, however, had the good fortune to eat pasta with Bolognese sauce (great by the way). What is euphemistically labeled lunch “meat” includes bologna or baloney coming from a variety of well known sausage makers. Only one appeals to me because it is much, much less processed than all the rest. It isn’t packaged and must be requested by brand name in the deli section of the food store. It’s the foundation of a great sandwich even in the 21st century of fake food.

  5. Never having the experience of being led astray by a GPS? My unsuspecting mind faithfully followed each twist and turn for 1 hour ending up nowhere that made sense. It was a no brainer that this so called infallible guide was full of baloney.

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