Law school wasn’t in the plans for Ohio Supreme Court Justice Melody Stewart when she graduated high school.
It was music.
“With a name like Melody, what else would I study in college?” Stewart said. “The only thing I wanted to study was music. That’s the only thing that interested me, that fascinated me.”
Stewart, 56, earned a Bachelor of Music degree in music theory from the College-Conservatory of Music at the University of Cincinnati, but the connection between music and a paycheck wasn’t a thought when she chose her major.
Fairfield and Procter & Gamble’s generation-old alliance to protect water and the environment has improved the products many use every day, officials said.
“We all need to do our part for the environment,” said Jason Hunold, Fairfield Public Utilities treatment superintendent. “We’re environmentalists. We’re preventing water pollution, we’re protecting water quality. Everybody has to do their fair share when it comes to protecting the environment.”
About 25 years ago, the city and the American consumer goods giant teamed to help P&G scientists run tests on chemicals and ...
The city of Fairfield and thousands of employees were shocked by the news.
In 1986, General Motors announced that it would close the Fisher Body plant, the beating heart of the city’s economy. The 2,500 jobs phased out over three years, until, 30 years ago, the plant shut down for good.
“It was a scary time,” said Tim Bachman, the city’s former development services director.
Becky and Gary Rogers are indelible parts of St. Lawrence in Price Hill, and stalwart in their dedication, not only to the parish, but to the children they’ve guided for two decades in the arts.
The Rogers enter their 21st season directing the St. Lawrence children’s choir, and, after two decades, Becky said it still feels like her “mission.”
“If there’s just one person that you think you can help, even if you’re frustrated with the other 20 people, then that would be the payoff,” said the 1978 Seton High School graduate. “You feel like you did something for them to help them in life.”
APRIL 8, 2021 UPDATE:
I'm about halfway through my book with my writers' group, and about three-fourths through with my rewrite of the book.
I have not made a decision yet if I will self-publish this book, or will try the traditional route. Since I'm uncertain, I'm making lists of editors, book designers, formatters, and all the other costs that I'll need to incur if I self publish this book.
It's an exciting time.
With that said, I'll be setting up some type of crowd funding assistance if I go self-publishing. Likely through Patreon.
Here are links to anthologies I have short stories in:
Ironology (There are a series of Ironology anthologies, which can be found on Amazon.com.)
Baby Shoes: 100 Stories by 100 Authors
Spectrum: A Colorful Collection of SmartyPants' Best
Christmas Lites IX
Joey and Willie were the best of best friends. Whatever Joey did, Willie did. Usually they played hide-and-seek, but Joey wanted to use his new Whiffle ball and bat. Joey ran outside wearing his plastic Roman soldier’s helmet – he didn’t have a baseball helmet – and two thick lines of his mom’s black Halloween lipstick under his eyes.
“Willie, let’s play.” Joey raised his arms displaying his bat and ball. He took off his helmet and tossed it and the bat by the bush – which was home – and walked to the “mound.”
“You may want to put that on in case I come high and hard.” Joey winked. He held the ball at his waist before a high kick wind-up like Steve Carlton, only right-handed. He hurled the ball over the plate. Joey jerked his head up toward the sky and turned looking over his neighbor’s house. He then hung his head.
Emma scoured the bank of the Ohio River to find the flattest, roundest
rock. She grabbed a dark gray half-dollar-sized one, right where the water
met the shore.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! I found a perfect one.”
Johnny couldn’t sleep after the first time Mary woke him up with a hand to the face.
He watched her flip from one side to the other, muttering mostly nonsensical words, but he could make out the occasional, “No” and “Mom and Dad.” Then the scream happened right before she opened her eyes. He knew the nightmare. He knew she dreamt of the night were her parents, and his parents, died a year ago on a trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Or the two double funerals they had to plan and Johnny stroked Mary’s sweat-soaked hair, unsuccessfully smoothing out the wild strands. “You need to talk to someone, babe.”
Mary rolled her back to Johnny, who started to stroke her arm. “I can’t. It’s—it’s too—” She trailed off, but Johnny knew the next word.
“Painful, I know. But my nightmares aren’t as bad once I started to talk with Father Tim. It’s really helped. I can actually sleep at night.”