Strange days in the Buckeye State

It's been such a weird bleak winter I'm almost hesitant to believe we've finally made it to spring but it's really here, and it's about time. Everyone I know is feeling anxious and exhausted. If ever a people needed warmer days and a return of sunshine, it's us. In anticipation of spring, local ice cream parlors are opening for business, "firing up" the soft-serve machines even while customers line up at the sliding windows wearing jackets and knit caps. My daughter and her friends stopped on their way home from high school for cherry-dipped cones. As soon as she got here and told me about it I thought that sounded like a great idea and off we went, in search of another. Back at the house I sat down to write an email to a friend who'd moved away years ago. Hey babe, I wrote. Thinking of you and reminiscing about all the shenanigans we used to get into. Bet the weather is nicer where you are but Ohio being Ohio it could be another climate entirely by the time I finish this. I don't know how much you keep an eye on things back home but it's just been a wild time here. I know we used to say March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, but frankly I think Mother Nature is straight up angry at Ohio and I'll tell you how I know. In the past week we have had: hurricane-force winds, below-freezing temperatures, temperatures that hit 75 degrees, then back to snowing. Then the hurricane winds again. Last Friday I was on my way to pick up the girl from school and I could barely stay on the road. Electrical lines were down everywhere and school buses were holding back traffic to keep cars from driving into them; semis were swaying like they were learning to hula. A powerful gust of wind blew something big and dark up and over my windshield as I was coming over a bridge, so swift I couldn't see what it was. You know me, here were my first thoughts: tree branch or Mothman. It wasn't until I got to my destination that I realized what it was. My daughter took one look at my car and said: "Mom! What happened?" Part of my grille had ripped free and flown off. It got warmer for two days and then the hurricane part two returned. That night I watched a transformer blow from across the back yard. The next day the temperatures dropped about 35 degrees and then it started snowing. But St. Patrick's Day topped it all. That morning an meteor going around 45,000 miles per hour blew up over Valley City in Medina County. I know. Weird, right? Thing is, people everywhere heard this thing because I guess you could imagine it wasn't exactly subtle. The NASA people — and between you and me, I'd like to know why they seemed as surprised as we all were by ole fireball's arrival — said when this 7-ton, nearly 6-feet-in-diameter flaming-hot space Cheeto produced energy equivalent to 250 tons of of TNT when it blew to bits. You remember I'm not gifted in the sciences but even I know from the most rudimentary Wile E. Coyote schematics that is a lot. People from as far away as as North Carolina, New Jersey, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Ontario, Canada have reported seeing it streaking through the sky. Now people are flocking to Medina County, looking for meteorite bits sprinkled on the ground. And if all that wasn't bizarre enough, have you heard about Afroman? Oh girl. First, everything I say here is true, but it's not going to sound like it. In one of my favorite court cases of the year, a fellow named Joseph Edgar Foreman, aka Afroman, just won a civil trial in which seven law enforcement officers accused him of causing them mental distress. You may remember Afroman from his 2000 hit "Because I Got High"? The deceptively simple song was a massive commercial hit, and garnered a Grammy nomination. In August 2022, four deputies, two sergeants and a detective in Adams County raided his home in Winchester. The warrant cited kidnapping and drug trafficking, his lawyer said, but no charges resulted from the raid. Afroman was not home at the time, but his wife used her phone to record the officers and a home security system caught images of them as well. And that's the meat of this story, because after his property was damaged in the raid — a front door and gate, and cut the cords to his security cameras — and $400 turned up missing, Afroman did what he does best: he set it all to music. He used the footage and made T-shirts, sold merch, and music videos. The videos have racked up millions of views on YouTube. And always, Afroman made sure to let them know he was poking them. The officers sought nearly $4 million in damages for defamation and invasion of privacy. Their lawyer said Afroman had lied about "these seven brave deputy sheriffs" for three years. Afroman, who came to court decked out in a suit, tie and sunglasses made of American flags, said he couldn't have done any of it if the officers hadn't broken his door and raided his home. "All of this is their fault — if they hadn't wrongly raided my house, there would be no lawsuit," he said, adding he wouldn't have their photos or know their names. On Wednesday a jury ruled in his favor after less than a day of deliberations. "I didn't win, America won," he said. "America still has freedom of speech. It's still for the people, by the people." Earlier this month multiple reports of Bigfoot — yes — were reported in Portage County and over a recent weekend a sage thrasher, that's a bird known for living 1,200 miles out west of here, popped up down in Coshocton County. You tell me what's going on. And guess what? It's supposed to be 67 degrees Sunday. Maybe there's some hope left in Ohio yet. Contact Chronicle-Telegram columnist Rini Jeffers at rinijeffers@gmail.com.