Nasty Fall Led to Neighborhood Welcome
By LIZ THOMPSON
Some time in my husband's youth, he heard the phrase, "Go West, young man," and took it to heart.
He and I have moved from Ohio to Arizona and to Seattle twice, yet we always returned to our roots.
This last homecoming -- and let me emphasize last -- was from Seattle. Our timing has never been perfect. Our first move to Arizona was in July when the blazing heat is at its worst. And then we proceeded to move back to Ohio in February, the month most Snow Birds are heading south or southwest.
This last move was in late November and as we settled in our new abode in Grove City, the cold was chasing us down. We simply donned our sweaters and laughed.
For a person who grew up in Westerville when it was a village with one traffic light that blinked at 9:00 p.m. and a volunteer fire department, moving west of the Mississippi was a big deal. We have no regrets. Each move seemed to lead us to the next phase in our lives. Sure there were times we felt we would tear our hair out in frustration, but that's life in the real world.
Why the move back to Ohio this time, you ask? Family, friends, and familiarity. Grove City reminds me of my childhood where everyone knew their neighbors. My husband grew up on a farm in southeastern Ohio and this was close enough to the small town he knew as well. Plus, I covered Grove City as a stringer for the Grove City News in 2001. All good memories of people and places.
I must back up to the first day in December to tell you about our new neighbors. One in particular.
We were unpacking our home and all the details of settling in were pressing. Warm, breezy weather brought people outside and we had met several neighbors. My husband was working all day and short on time at home. I work at home, so I took on much of the unpacking. We both agreed we are getting too old for moving.
On this first day of December, I decided to read the water meter in the basement. One less thing for hubby to do that night. Unpacked boxes, in the basement, called to me and I quickly began working. Oh, I thought -- I'll just put these things on the steps and take them up later.
Finally, I was headed upstairs and began moving the things upward, one step at a time. I swear I was being careful but as I almost reached the top, I felt myself falling backwards.
I remember calling out, "Oh my God" thinking I could not survive this fall onto concrete. This is it, I thought. The fall knocked me out, I would realize later. When I came to my senses and realized I was alive, I could not move my right arm. I reached for my cell phone in my jeans pocket, only to realize it would not work in the basement. I knew what I had to do.
Slowly I pulled myself onto the first step and gradually pushed with my legs and got up to the same step I fell from. Trying not to faint, I called 911. Realizing the back door was still unlocked, I told the operator and waited.
Minutes later the Jackson Township Fire Department squad was there giving me gentle, quick care. I was helped by Jackson Township Fire Department., Medic 201 with Brian Wess, Dave Fannin, and Dave Britton, who would transport me to Mt. Carmel West.
Not knowing the extent of my injuries, they assumed the worst.
One of the firefighter/paramedics said a neighbor was there and wanted to help. It was Barb Brown. Was she snooping? No. Concerned? Yes -- thank God.
She called my husband and took care of my dogs that day. Our golden retriever had been able to get to me and lick my face repeatedly but our dachshund could not and all he could do was bark.
As I lay on the gurney ready to be rolled out the front door, Barb held him up to see me. I almost cried.
That day began a fast friendship and she would introduce me to other neighbors at an informal tea she organized. She brought us a meal, including homemade bread, and still calls me on occasion to check on me. I learned, too, that she does this with several neighbors and has for years.
That December day ended with more than a broken arm and bruised body -- we knew we were home. And Grove City is even considered Southwest.
Published in Suburban News Publications
04-05-06
Liz Thompson is a freelance writer and former Suburban News Publications reporter who lives in Grove City with her husband, Bob.
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