When a Small Ohio Town Dies

I wasn't going to talk about.  It's too sad.  It hurts.  But not talking about it hasn't made it go away.

Wilmington, Ohio, is just a tiny spot on the map.  You would zip right past the exit on I-71 heading north to Columbus or south to Cincinnati. 

But when you take the time to look closer, you see a town of 13,000 people.  Part of the town is historic.

Part is agriculture.


But all of it is people.  All they wanted was a decent paying job and a safe place to raise their children.

And then this happened.  The biggest employer in the county and surrounding counties just pulled out.  DHL decided that their shipping hub in Wilmington was no longer profitable.  Approximately 8,000 jobs were lost.

It didn't stop there.  Many of the businesses that built up around the air park left too.  I have no idea how many jobs that eliminated.

The local hospital started to have problems.  Most of these unemployed people eventually lost their health insurance which left the hospital dealing with Medicaid payments or no payments at all.  This is the hospital where both of my children were born.  My mother had her hip replaced there.  My father died there.  It matters to me.

The hospital has been sold to an out-of-state group.  The employees are hoping that there will be very few changes.  We also thought DHL would never leave.  Time will tell.

Of course, houses are abandoned.  If you need to leave the area to find work and your house won't sell, you have to leave it all behind.  That goes against how these people were raised.  You pay your bills.  You fulfill your obligations.  And you don't leave your memories behind. 

Other things happen when a town dies.  Drug dealers know where to find the weak and the lost.  I have friends with children who are heroin addicts and prescription drug addicts.  The front page of the local paper covers the drug bust of the day.  Meth labs are in the house next door.  When there is no hope and no money, people resort to ugly ways to make a living.

A friend's husband was a mechanic at DHL.  They just built the house of their dreams.  He has been working out of state for the past year.  After 25 years of marriage, they are seeing each other on the occasional weekend, holiday and vacation.  They are the lucky ones.  They still have a home and they still have an income.

Perfect strangers are willing to tell you their story.  Yesterday, I was shopping at the local clothing store and started a conversation with a clerk.  She lost her job at one of the companies located near DHL.  She is currently working three part time minimum wage jobs.  Her husband works at the hospital.  She is worried.  Everyone here is worried.

If you want to know more, here is a youtube video that says it all.


This is happening all over the country, but this is where I raised my children.  This is where I worked for many years.  It matters.

Selling Scrubs in Ohio

In case you stumbled upon my site looking for excitement in Ohio or you were just plain bored, I wanted to let you know where I'm hanging out.

We have a medical uniform business...two stores and a website.  I decided that blogging about scrubs would potentially put more money in my pocket. 

Oops.  Did that sound crass?  Well, I don't know about you, but I need money more than I need followers on a personal blog.  I loved my followers and I still follow some blogs, but this is business.  I need to put on my serious face and get down to flooding the market with blogs about scrubs.

Oh yes, this is Elvis.  He was at Caesar Creek Markets in Wilmington, Ohio, this weekend.  We sell scrubs there.  My life is full of amazing things.

So...if you are interested in the wild and wacky world of flea markets, there will be a little of that at my new blog findohioscrubs.blogspot.com.  And, everyone knows someone who wears scrubs, so send them my way.

I'm also available to blog about your business....for a fee, of course.  Call, write, send a carrier pigeon.  We'll talk. 

Back Yard Walking in Ohio

It was cool enough this evening, finally, to take a walk on our neighbor's property.

It was a solitary walk.  Hubby's favorite walk is from the couch to the refrigerator.  Unless he can get me to fetch for him.

As you can see, Queen Anne's Lace has taken over the field.  Want to know a little more about my favorite weed and why it is called a "wild carrot?"  Check it out http://www.fcps.edu/islandcreekes/ecology/queen_annes_lace.htm.

We can all use a little education.

I love these purple flowers, weeds, whatever they are, but have no clue what they are.

They're right in there with the Queen.

If you are in  Ohio and want to hang with some people who can answer all of your questions about native plants, you should attend the Midwest Native Plant Society Conference.  It is being held at the Bergamo Center in Dayton, Ohio, August 6, 7 & 8.

You can get more information at http://cincinnatibirds.com/mwnp/. 

I got home just as our festive lights came on.  We like to keep the party going here in Ohio.

That little bit of exercise felt good.  For a reward, I poured myself a gin and tonic.

The tonic is for medicinal purposes.  I hear that it helps malaria.  Just in case.

The Queen is Working In Ohio

I went to a palm reader at the flea market a couple of weeks ago.  Now that may not sound like the best idea, but genius can be found in the strangest places.  And the flea is a strange place.

He grabbed my hands, gave a little squeal, and said "Oooo, you were major royalty in a past life!"

The irony didn't escape me.  I'm sitting in a flea market, with the smell of deep fried food wafting through the air and I'm holding hands with a gnome like man. 

"A lot of good it's doing me now," I replied.  He was quick to reassure me that it was all a part of the master plan.  So if I was Cleopatra or some other fine ancient queen, I hope I had a good push up bra like her. 

The girls should always look their best.

Today, I took off the crown and got to work.  My minions seem to have disappeared which requires that I try to make some money on occasion.  Hubby and I had a medical uniform show at Villa Georgetown, in Georgetown, Ohio.

It's a real sophisticated operation.  We pack our two cars with medical uniforms and toodle on down the road. Then we unpack the car and sell, sell, sell.

The employees buy a lot because their employer offers payroll deduction.  They have four paychecks to pay for their purchase. 


God bless corporate America (sometimes.)

We always set up on the front porch of the home.  But we don't always sweat as much.  Have I mentioned that I've been sweating way too much lately?  And now that I know I was a big somebody once, well, it really yanks my chain.

Relying on my queenly dignity, I did my part, without complaint, I might add.

And then we had to pack it all up again and load our cars.

Just another day, another dollar or two and another reason to eat a large bowl of ice cream out of my gold bowl, surrounded by young, muscular slave boys who are fanning me....oops....flashback.

Those were the days.

Trouble Brewing in Little Ohio

This is my brain after too many hours on the internet.

I started down in the bottom left hand corner looking for something.  Not sure what now.  And I got lost somewhere in the middle.

I think I wanted to find a blog directory.  Then I got distracted by Facebook.  Then I looked at social work jobs.  Had a panic attack.  Then I tried to find writing jobs, but I found a recipe I liked.  Now my head hurts.

As you can tell, I don't have an Ohio topic today, unless it's about a local blogger who went beeeeezerk and set fire to her laptop.

My topic for the day is about the elephant in the middle of the room.

This one is outside, but it's hard to find a picture of one sitting in the middle of an actual room.

I've been walking around this elephant for too long.  I don't dust him so it's even worse than you might think.

I am having a blogging melt down.  A "Come to Jesus" meeting with myself.

I have been asking myself "Why?"  Why am I spending so much time blogging?  Why have I decided to drive all around my county and surrounding counties looking for that offbeat place, that quirky old guy, that giant ball of string?

I don't think I've ever used so many question marks in one post!  There, I used an exclamation point.

Here's what I'm getting at and I'm looking to you all, my blogging friends, to provide some insight.  We blog, we take pictures, we comment on other blogs, we try to be creative and witty....and.  This is where my wheels come off.

In reality, the only people who read blogs are other bloggers.  We love each other.  It's one big humongous love fest.  It's pen pals on steroids.  I do love that part of it.  I love hearing from you.  If it wasn't for you, I'd have nothing but emails about penis enlargement or fortunes waiting for me in Nigeria.

The problem is, I'd actually like to make some money as a writer.  I always have.  I've been doing a superior job at procrastinating for 40 years.  Back before the internet, my excuse was, "Who in the world would print the snippy, sarcastic essays of a frustrated Ohio woman?"  Erma Bombeck already had a corner on that market, although I am her darker twin.

I'm throwing in a nature picture just to add some interest.

So I had renewed hope when the internet bloomed from the middle of Al Gore's forehead.   There was writing everywhere.  It just spilled off the monitor.

You didn't need a publisher anymore to get your message out.  My goodness....you could start your own blog!  And people did in droves...in stampedes...in landslides...in obscene amounts.

People are writing about their new shoes, blind dates, bad in-laws, hang nails, cures for warts...Do I really care?  To be fair, I only follow blogs that speak to me.  If you're on my list, you're my peeps and I'll follow you to the gates of Hell.  Not through the gates.  Just up to the them and then I'm running the other way.

The only people making money are the scam artists who sell us books about blogging or who have their own blogs about blogging.  They tell us how to drive traffic to our blogs, they design new templates for our blogs, they conduct workshops for blogging, and blah, blah, blah.  I have spent countless hours lost in this maze.

Blogging helped me get through my Yellowstone adventure.  I knew you were out there rooting for me.  Ultimately my blog got me in a lot of trouble at work.  It seems that not everyone thinks I'm funny.

I'm asking you all for input before I commit blogger hari kari.

Damn...I accidentally published this post and I'm not done.  Bear with me.

One more thing that gives me a mental wedgie.  Have you been to one of those sites like Helium.com?  I'm not even giving the link because it sucks.  Thousands of sad people write articles so that other sad people can read them and rate them.  If you write ten articles a day and rate another ten articles a day, you can earn 50 cents an article.

It becomes an obsession like any addiction.  Thousands of people sitting at their laptops checking to see if their article has been rated.  Did they make it to number one this week?  Are they sitting on top of the manure pile?  They even have a poetry section.  And all of the poems rhyme.  Shudder.

I haven't decided what to do.  I need a big group hug, then a slap, then a big dish of ice cream with chocolate syrup.  That always makes me feel better.  There's a novel floating around in my brain.  Should I just hunker down and work on that?  Would you all forget about me? 

Oh lordy...here come the question marks again.  Time for me to go.

Tales From the Ohio Flea

Another weekend at Caesar Creek Markets has come and gone.  My scrub store, scrubsdirect.com, (shameless plug) pretty much looked like this all weekend....empty.

Have you ever worked retail or owned a business?  If you have, then send me lots of pity!  Or a large check would be nice.

I can understand why no one was here today.  It is Ohio and the residents were home counting their unemployment money.  For the other 23 hours and 59 minutes, they played corn hole.

Alright, I'm being dramatic.  And in case you live on snob hill, corn hole involves a board with holes, bean bags and beer.  It's a toddler's game on alcohol.  If you want to try it, they sell the gear here.  In every other booth.

I wanted to take a lot of pictures of the side show characters passing by my store, but the angel on one shoulder told me to behave.  "Be tolerant," she said.

She turned her head long enough for me and my little devil to get one shot of the lady in the t-shirt.

Yes, it's a woman...I checked when she turned around.  No bra, late 60's sequined hat, all decked out in her Sunday finest.

Our friends across the way sell remote controlled helicopters and other manly items.  There's always a crowd of men and small boys (same thing) standing there with their mouths open.

I know it's hard to see the helicopter but it's in the upper middle of the picture.

This is one of the baby ones.  The biggest one they have blocks out the sun and knocks my mannequins off the wall.

They also have a Bruce Lee, Ninja thing going on over there.

The highlight of the day was seeing a customer who bought a Coors Light hat made out of the cardboard box.

She paid $10 for it.

Doesn't she look happy?







And wouldn't you know.  You Tube has directions for making one.  Don't bother watching unless you're serious about it.


All in all, it was a typical weekend in an Ohio flea market...my flea market.

One of my customers told me about her sister's "granddaddy seizures."  She meant grand mal.  I didn't say anything.

People say they can get cheaper scrubs at Wal-Marts. (Remember, we add an 's' here in Ohio.)  Then go to freakin Wal-Marts and get out of my store!

I saw tattoos and piercings in places that defy explanation.

I saw mullets and Mohawks.  They are alive and well.

But, sigh, these are my peeps.

Time to close up the circus.

Put away the socks.

Cover the treasures.

So stay tuned until next weekend for more "Tales From the Ohio Flea."

I need a gin and tonic.

200 Years in Clinton County Ohio

I was going to entertain you with "Tales From the Flea." my place of business on the weekends, but something more important came up.

The Sabina Historical Society, in lovely Sabina, Ohio, is only open one day a month, from 1-3 p.m. and today was the day.  How could I resist?

As I've mentioned before, history is at the bottom of my list of interests.  It actually makes my eyes cross, and I develop narcolepsy.  I've fallen asleep twice just writing this sentence.

But, I have driven past this building for years on my way to visit my mother who is a resident of Autumn Years Nursing Home which is right down the street.  And, my goal is to visit places that it seems no one else visits, so here goes. 

O.K., class, what was this building originally?  Who said a gas station?  That's right little Billy, this was once a Sinclair Gas station with a dinosaur and everything.  Then it became a bank and ten years ago, the historical society moved in.

No, you can't do a drive through.  You have to get out of the car. 

While you're gazing down the main street of Sabina, let me give you the basics.  Sabina, Ohio, is in Clinton County.  The 2000 census counted 2,780 hearty souls here.  Rumor has it that this number will go down after the 2010 census.

The median family income was $35,795 at that time and 12.9% of the residents lived below poverty level. I'm not thinking these figures have improved any.

That's enough.  The town is small and most people are poor.  Let's go inside.

Sabina has an elementary school, but like most small towns in Ohio, it consolidated years back.  The local students have to leave town to attend middle school and high school.  When that happened, all of the high school trophies were left without a home.

The historical society took the trophies and the display case.

 People have donated cheer leading outfits and letter jackets. 

Somebody was cleaning out the attic I'm thinking.

A local resident made this doll house and donated it.

Look at the detail...a little quilt, a tiny dressing mirror, itsy bitsy pictures....who am I kidding?

Why would anyone take several years of their life to do this?  I do believe you can visit historical homes where the real items are in adult size.  You don't need a magnifying glass to look at them.

Ahhhh, the mystery of the human psyche.

This toilet plunger looking thing was used for washing clothes.

Thank God for washing machines.

And yikes, this was used  to curl hair.

Dr. Frankenstein must have had something to do with this.

Then I found out that this is Clinton County Ohio's bicentennial year.  I need to get out more.

I have been seeing these quilt designs on local barns.  My little brain hadn't made the connection that something was up.

There are 54 of these in the county. 

I found a few on the way home.

Why didn't I get out of the car to take a better picture?

It's 94 degrees and if I get out of the car and walk onto someone's property, I'll either get shot or I'll have to talk to the local farmer while I melt into a little puddle.

I've sweat enough for this blog.

There was one thing I had to clear up with Sharon Roberts, the President of the Sabina Historical Society, who was gracious enough to spend time with me.  (I was the only person there.)

Why, oh why is Sabina the Eden of Ohio?

I liked her answer.  She said that at one time, around 1810, the area was a swamp.  When the swamp was drained, or whatever you do to get rid of one, crops grew like crazy.  The ground was mega fertile.

And then, I just had to ask her about Eugene,  a local legend.  I do have the brain of a 12 year old boy.  She gave me reams of articles but I actually found a YouTube video that you have to watch.  It has to do with an embalmed body that was on display in town for many years.  Fast forward 5 minutes into the newscast.  You'll love it and I know you don't have anything better to do.


If you want any brochures about the Bicentennial or the barn quilts, let me know.  Sharon dumped a pile of them on me. 

Tomorrow...I promise..."Tales From the Flea."  And, there will be no more sweating for this blog