I’ve never met anyone from Norwood, Ohio. In fact, until a couple of weeks ago, I’d never heard of it. But, in the past few days, the suburban community located in the heart of greater Cincinnati has been a much-needed source of inspiration for me. Their gritty resolve to not only survive what most experts perceived to be an economic death blow, but in the end, to prosper, is a model for all distressed communities. If there’s ever been an example of picking oneself up by the bootstraps, it’s Norwood.

Norwood’s world was rocked in October 1986 when the unimaginable happened — General Motors announced plans to close its 63-year old plant that employed 4,000 people in their blue-collar city of 24,000. Norwood’s identity was defined by that GM plant. It was said that, “When GM sneezed, Norwood caught a cold.” Within nine months of the announcement, the 3 million square foot plant that had been the heart and soul of the city since 1923 lapsed into idle darkness. Husbands and wives lost their jobs. Local businesses suffered. Housing sales fell. The newspaper editor lamented, “It’s almost as if there was a funeral.”

The City of Norwood lost a third of its tax base, more than $2.6 million in annual revenue and was forced to close an elementary school and reduce the municipal workforce. Their plight was featured in national publications, including The New York Times ,under headlines like, “Ohio Town Mourns as GM Closes Shop,” and “Norwood Girds for a Grim Life without GM.” Residents feared that this was the end of life as they had known it. Experts questioned their ability to survive.

Sound familiar? That was 23 years ago. Today, remarkably, Norwood is alive. Contrary to popular opinion, they’re living proof that there is life without “the mill.” Notwithstanding some bumps and bruises along the way, all but one of their 400 local businesses weathered the storm. Their social fabric healed. Norwood rose from the ashes of economic despair. By 1997, only 10 years after the plant closed, their revitalization efforts had generated more than 150 diverse new businesses with a combined total of $200 million in new business investment and 4,000 new jobs. City officials and residents now universally agree that Norwood’s long-term prospects are better off without GM. Recently featured in the National Real Estate Investor, their mayor was quoted, “In the long run, it’s the best thing that ever happened.” Wow — maybe time does heal all wounds.

In fairness, there are also some significant differences between our communities. Located only a “stones throw” from Cincinnati, Norwood’s regional economy was sizzling in the late 1980s and early 1990s, adding almost 30,000 jobs per year. Regrettably, we won’t have that luxury — we’re riding the heels of the worst recession in 70 years. And while economists tell us it’s over, our hearts and billfolds still say otherwise.

But there is hope. We have an unprecedented opportunity to recast our economy and create a new regional identity. The building blocks for long-term success are here. We’re geographically blessed, centrally located on the mid-Atlantic coast within 500 miles of more than half the U.S. population. We have a proven industrial workforce whose dedication and work ethic is tested and documented. We’re only 45 miles away from Virginia’s economic engine, the Port, and directly connected to it by highway and rail. They’ve expressed a need for 20 to 60 million square feet of distribution center space by 2030 to support the growth in container shipping and we’ve got the location, the land, the infrastructure, and the workforce to accommodate them.

We have state-of-the-art facilities in the Workforce Development Center and Franklin Business Incubator. We have a newly renovated hospital that would be the envy of any comparably sized community.

All of the ingredients for success are in place — we just need the jobs. And they’ll come. Maybe not all at once, maybe not the types of jobs we’ve relied upon in the past, but they’ll come.

One of my all-time favorite movies is the 1986 action thriller, “Heartbreak Ridge,” starring Clint Eastwood as Gunnery Sergeant Tom Highway, a career Marine and combat veteran. Korea and Vietnam taught him how to survive. He whips a group of undisciplined Marines into combat ready fighters by constantly challenging them to “Adapt, improvise and overcome.” That’s sage advice. That’s what Norwood did. And so can we.