Stodghill Says So

An opinionated posting on a variety of subjects by a former newspaper reporter and columnist whose daily column was named best in Indiana by UPI. The Blog title is that used in his high school sports predictions for the Muncie Evening Press.

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Location: Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, United States

At the age of 18 I was a 4th Infantry Division rifleman in the invasion of Normandy, then later was called back for the Korean War. Put in a couple of years as a Pinkerton detective. Much of my life was spent as a newspaper reporter, sports writer and daily columnist. Published three books on high school sports in Ohio and Indiana. I write mystery fiction for Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine and others. Three books, Normandy 1944 - A Young Rifleman's War, The Hoosier Hot Shots, and From Devout Catholic to Communist Agitator are now available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other booksellers. So are four collections of short mysteries: Jack Eddy Stories Volumes 1 and 2, Midland Murders, and The Rough Old Stuff From Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine.

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Thursday, January 01, 2009

We Ain't Hit Bottom Yet

Yeah, 2008 wasn't the greatest year, but if you realy want bad try 1930. Or 1931. Or 1932. Life hit rock bottom for the Stodghills when home became the back seat of a Model-T Ford with a canvas top but open on both sides. And no brakes. In Michigan - and Chicago - in winter.
Ah yes, those were the days. Breadlines, Hoovervilles, doctors and lawyers selling apples on street corners for a nickel, but few people had a nickel. First World War veterans being shot at because they wanted the bonuses they had been promished. Billy Durant, founder of General Motors, ending up frying hamburgers in a bowling alley.
Then there was the day I fell on my way home from the corner grocery and broke the glass bottle of milk. My mother's words have stuck with me all these years: "Oh, Dick, that was the last dime."
So I agree, times are tough, but we've still got a long way to go before hitting bottom. If Roosevelt hadn't taken the helm in 1933 . . . well, who knows? "Brother, can you spare a dime?" That was the watchword that became a song. Listen to it sometime:

They used to tell me I was building a dream, and so I followed the mob,
When there was earth to plow, or guns to bear, I was always there right on the job.
They used to tell me I was building a dream, with peace and glory ahead,
Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;
Once I built a tower, now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Why don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?

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