Megan Leasher spent a November day in Falmouth. Disguised as a mild-mannered visitor, she was really gathering perspectives for a story to share with the readers of the Falmouth Outlook. Her insights are here, for our readers to enjoy as Year 2024 begins. Sometimes, even those of us who are long-time residents need a set of fresh eyes to remind us of who we are.
Happy New Year.
By Megan Leasher
As a Northern Ohio escape artist and a southern Ohio reject, I became a Northern Kentuckian, happily residing in the Port of New. Due to some peer pressure that had something to do with “helping others,” I became friends with the editor of the Falmouth Outlook; but I had never ventured south enough in my glamorous NKY lifestyle to explore the town of Falmouth. That made me a poor traveler and an even crappier friend, I felt.
My research kept leading me to a thing called the Wool Fest. That did not appeal to my sleek, urban wardrobe mostly comprised of spandex. For that reason, I took it upon myself to create my own festival, of sorts, and in undercover fashion, I ventured to the town to discover and learn all there is about Falmouth.
In my one-day escapade, I covered a lot of ground and met countless characters. I ate ice cream, bought nail polish, and even saw a man driving a riding lawnmower down the sidewalk, towing a tiny flatbed of a Costco-sized pack of Angel Soft toilet paper.
As I think back on my day, I discovered three themes.
Falmouth is a town of hosts. The host mentality, by far, was the overriding theme of my day. I had several instances throughout my day where I felt like a revered guest when I was really a complete stranger and people were just that dang gracious. No one knew I was in town to write an article, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I started my day dark and early at Trappy’s. Co-owner Gina was not only elated to learn that it was my first time in Falmouth, but legit giddy that I made Trappy’s my first stop. When her dispatcher friend walked in after finishing a long shift, she exclaimed, “There is a celebrity in the house,” referring to him. She quickly followed with, “We have a special guest,” talking about me. Twenty minutes into the conversation, she finally weaseled his coffee order out of him, and she served it in a ceramic mug. When he asked about the mug, she said, “Well, we’re sitting here talking so I thought that it deserved a real cup”; immediately, she followed up with an apology to me for the paper cup. She had not realized when I showed up I would be hanging out for a while.
After leaving Trappy’s, I made my way to CVS. Again, I was treated as royalty. The place was pretty empty, and I was happy to shop for more makeup I don’t need. When I walked up to the register, the cashier, garbed in the emo style of the day, looked initially unfazed by my presence. When he scanned my second bottle of nail polish, his face lit up like he had won the lottery. He was truly excited to tell me he has the same polish and was so glad I was buying it because it glows in the dark so well. (Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.) He didn’t have to say a word to me, yet I walked out of the store feeling like he created a special moment for me.
I went to Falmouth’s Dollar General, which appears to be a palatial Dollar General on steroids. The place was quiet and non-eventful until I got to the checkout line. The man in line in front of me, clearly with fewer items than I had, graciously declared I should go in front of him because “that’s all you have.” It was one of those moments where you know not to argue and to just do as you’re told, immediately followed by a “thank you, sir.”
Library story hour at the Pendleton County Extension Center was full of giggling littles and moms and nanas. The story time leaders, not knowing why I was there, included me in craft time, and I made my own T-rex out of a toilet paper roll and green pipe cleaners, celebrating Dino-Vember, obviously.
I then bought a shirtless-cowboy greeting card at the Marathon gas station, one I would later send to the editor to thank her for living in such a lovely town. The cashier offered me a bag for my card, wanting to make sure that I had the card in a place it would be protected.
At Geneva’s antiques, I was given a kind human welcome, but was promptly told to proceed with caution up the stairs, as Mouse the cat was guarding all the vintage treasures. I believe I made nice with him as he climbed up onto my lap for approximately 2.6 seconds, to which he then bolted down the stairs and asked his human to be led outside in the beautiful sunshine. Even Mouse the cat was a quality Falmouth host, but he made me work for it. I respect that.
Falmouth is full of grief-givers. The light-hearted trash talk was real and no one was spared. It was delivered with 81 percent love and 18 percent pain, with the one percent remaining for snickering that at
time rendered sarcastic delivery impossible. It was the bantering language spoken by locals.
Fake arguments ensued over favorite condiments. (Note: the correct answer is and always will be relish.) When a woman walked in for coffee just as I was heading out, Gina fussed, “Well, where have you been?” to which she was met with, “Awww, hell, I don’t even know where I’ve been!” That answer launched the house into roars of laughter.
At the Dollar General, the cashier asked if I had a veteran in the family. I said I didn’t know, which was the honest truth. With a caring and visible scowl, she responded that of course I did; at some point in time, someone in my family had served. She promptly gave me the veteran’s discount on my purchase, firmly instructing that now I had to find out who the veteran was in my family. Challenge accepted. I have since learned that my uncle Eugene served as a cook and was part of an artillery unit during the Korean War. She gave me grief and I have learned something new about my lineage as a result.
At library story hour, we learned it was Ms. Penny’s birthday. Ms. Penny flashed her fingers multiple times to indicate it was her 65th birthday, and she proclaimed the number 65 to the kids, who were in awe. Fellow story time leader Ms. Tonya said, “Hey, kids! Can you count that high?!” She immediately followed that question with, “I hope Ms. Penny didn’t hear that…” To which Miss Penny fake asked, “What?” Ms. Tonya quipped, “I said ‘Happy birthday,’ Ms. Penny.
Well played, ladies.
At Houchen’s, while selecting a button-up shirt for my husband, I overheard a conversation between an associate and a fellow customer. They were commiserating over how kids nowadays can’t count change. I found myself joining in with enthusiasm because I definitely don’t get it; it’s just math!
But my favorite grief-giving of the day goes to the pastor at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church. As he closed out a powerful service, he mentioned that he accidentally wore a green robe that day when he should have worn white. Yet fear not, pious churchgoers! He was clear it did not “invalidate the mass.” It just hurt his pride.
Falmouth is dedicated to preserving pride. This last theme is touching and hopeful. Great care is taken to preserve the past and remember, with pride, those who made it special. This theme is the soul and the warm hug that is Falmouth. It moved me to tears more than once during my visit.
I learned about the barber shop that preceded Trappy’s and how people often come in for a cup of joe and enthusiastically announce they got their hair cut there as a kid. I learned about the plaque that is being prepared for the wall to include a picture of the barber shop owner proudly sweeping the sidewalk in front of his shop.
I learned about Dispatcher Matt and friends’ radio station, and obeyed the collective silence request to giddily enjoy the custom commercial breaks. I smiled as we sang Wooly Bully together.
I visited the Falmouth cemetery. I saw so many proud roles and identities listed on the headstones. I saw “Dad,” “grandparents of…”, and so on. I saw an occasional Bible verse. I saw lots of mentioned of military service. I saw a dog statue with an angel’s halo. There are so many people who were and are loved for the different roles they played in people’s lives.
I went to Punkyville, the clear epitome of preserving the quirky joy of Falmouth.
I went to Howard’s where I inhaled my drooping chocolate soft-serve while reading the plaque on the wall about Howard’s life and legacy.
I went to Mystery Box where the woman working in the store was overjoyed to tell me that her mom and sister do all the crocheting, and she’s just “happy to buy the yarn, because I don’t know anything about what to do with it.” Naturally, I walked out with a pair of adorable, crocheted trivets I didn’t need.
Lastly, the sermon at St. Francis was about God giving us all gifts that are designed to inspire action, reminding us that Jesus was a man of action. Residents of Falmouth, past and present, have taken action in many ways. These are the same people who are being preserved and celebrated in memory today, all the while creating the legacy of tomorrow.
My day in Falmouth was spontaneous, unscheduled, and random. I got what I desired and then some by people who graciously hosted a stranger, by people who playfully bantered with each other; by people who are proud of their small town with its big legacy.
I was lured by caffeine, yet was given community.
I was enticed by a Wyatt’s pimento cheese sandwich, yet given joy.
I was entranced by a fried banana at El Paso, and gave myself thanks for wearing pants with an elastic waistband.
I think I was just hungry.
Thank you, Falmouth. I look forward to seeing you again.
Dr. Megan Leasher is an award-winning organizational psychologist, a thought leader in talent management, and is an author, speaker, and executive coach. She is the founder of Disruptive Journeys, an organization dedicated to helping individuals and organizations thrive in the face of disruption. Megan is a Forbes contributor and has been quoted in U.S. News and World Report, Yahoo!, Parade, Chief, and more. She has been named one of HR’s Rising Stars by Human Resource Executive Magazine, the 10 Most Influential Leaders in HR by Insights Success Magazine, Cincinnati’s Forty Under 40, and is a fellow of the Society for Industrial and Organizational Psychology. Megan lives in Northern Kentucky with her husband, where she loves coffee, bourbon and Converse Chuck Taylors.