Norwood Strong

Hometown
 
That is a bigger word than the number of letters in it, indicate.
 
It can be the town you live in now, but more often, it is the town you were born and raised in.
 
For me, that was Norwood, Ohio.
 
This morning, I sat in a dentist’s chair for about an hour and a half, getting a wad of silver drilled out of my molar, in order to get a crown put on.
 
Much of that time was spent with my eyes closed and face contorted, trying to breathe through my nose, hoping I didn’t flip-out.
 
When the drill wasn’t buzzing and spewing water and silver bits, I had different gels in my mouth to make molds.
 
It was during those times when I read posts on FB from Norwoodites who were asking for help, giving help, providing information, and being a community.
 
People were being Norwood Strong.
 
I was being Norwood Proud.
 
FB can draw my ire and eyeballs, but in a time like this, it can be a useful tool, and it looks to me as if the fine people from Norwood are using it as a tool to get through this nasty, nasty, flood.
 
Yesterday, as I learned about the devastation of my hometown, I had a bit of the same feeling I had on 9-11.
 
Yes, the magnitude and implications of the disasters were different. As far as I am aware, no one lost their life in Norwood Flood. And we won’t go to war because of what Mother Nature wrought.
 
But I felt pretty helpless as far of feeling like there was anything I could do. When you are 500 miles away, it is hard to bring a mop and Clorox where needed. So I did what I could do, made a donation to Matthew 25, asking that it be used for help with the Norwood Flood.
 
Norwood has always been like a member of my family. I can pick on them, but you had better not.
 
I know nothing about Norwood politics these days. The last I knew, Mayor Shea was in office and there was a St. Peter and Paul church and school.
 
Norwood provided me with a childhood that even my husband, envies. He had no place to go swimming, no place to hang out and play games and listen to the radio, and no opportunity to hang out with neighborhood kids that went to other schools.
 
I did. If there were such a thing as a “Park Raised Kid,” that would be me. From dawn oil dusk, I was at the park, being looked after by playground leaders, getting my exercise playing softball and swimming, getting whooped in ping pong and getting to know the kids who went to the parochial school.
 
My first job, after the standard, UDF job, was being a park leader and the arts and crafts lady for the Norwood Parks.
 
For me, that was as good as being president.
 
In high school, it got a bit harder to be from Norwood as a couple of disc jockeys made fun of it.
 
I never figured out why. But it stung. It hurt my feelings.
 
After we were married, our first house was on Smith Road, in Norwood. It was a strong brick house that shook when the firetrucks screamed by. We had no driveway and it was on a major road, so one day when we we’re out for a ride, we learned what country and open space was.
 
And we moved to Mason, Ohio, when it was still surrounded by farms.
 
We have been country people since then, although in both places we lived, the neighboring farms were swallowed whole and spit out in parcels.
 
We’d go back to Norwood almost every Sunday, to visit with my parents. We would eat dinner with them, but truth be told, there were times we’d end up at Norwood White Castles because the food my parents made didn’t always hit the mark.
 
And there were many years after my mother died and we moved my dad closer to us, that I couldn’t even go to or through Norwood.
 
It was too hard.
 
That drive up Indian Mound made me cry.
 
It took me many years to get over my myriad of feelings about Norwood. Talking with a lot of Norwood Girls on FB helped tremendously. My angst wasn’t with Norwood. It was with me and that time of my life, and then, the emptiness of losing my parents.
 
Norwood and I are now are a wonderful place. It makes my heart warm and tender, and brings me lots of friends. Without any question, although a great distance away, Norwood is and always will be my hometown.
 
Keep up the good work. Angels come in the form of neighbors, strangers, a kind word, smile and offer of a strong back.
 
I will continue to read about your progress. Stay Norwood Strong … and I will be Norwood Proud.
 
Susan
forever, a Norwood Girl

3 Comments Add yours

  1. finleybg2015 says:

    It’s hard to look at scenes of disaster around the world, but when you are looking at your cousin’s basement or front yard, the church you went to for so many years, and the pastor, knowing he is heartbroken seeing his church so broken and ugly; it really hits home. At first, I couldn’t understand why I was so upset. Then it hit me. These are ppl I know, ppl that have helped me thru hard times, paid my water bill to keep it from being turned off when my ex left us penniless. Like you, I wanted to grab a mop and bleach. Heck, I’m not able to keep my own place clean, much less do hard physical work needed in Norwood. Maybe financially come payday.
    But I am so proud of the people of my hometown. Helping each other, making sure seniors are ok. I always was proud to be from Norwood, in spite of the jokes and put downs I heard. I guess because so many of us were from Ky, we were assumed to be ignorant. Unlearned, maybe. But willing to learn. And willing to work. And help their neighbors.
    Hometown Proud, I will always be. And a Norwood girl, class of ’69.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Susan DeBow says:

    That is wonderful. Thank you.

    Susan

    Like

  3. Anonymous says:

    Also, forever a proud Norwood Girl. – K. Sheff

    Like

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