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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Friday, February 27, 2009

Time to SHUT UP!

You would think that by the time a man gets to be my age he would have learned when to open his mouth and when to keep his lips clamped together. Keeping quiet would be the smart thing to do 90 per cent of the time.
The problem with that statement is the word "man." For some unexplainable reason, most men feel a compulsion to sound off when remaining mute would be the smart thing to do.
This came to mind because of a cookie. Jackie offered one to me as we finished lunch today. I took it, as nearly all men would do, but instead of just saying thanks I said, "I'm kind of tired of cookies."
Jackie said that's why she hasn't baked any recently. That was the time to let the subject die a quiet death. Instead I had to be clever and say, "Cookies are like wives. It's nice to get away from them for a month or so now and then."
"Go ahead," said Jackie. "Just don't expect to get back in the door again."
I realized that diplomacy was now called for. "I like it here. I like you." Glancing toward the cage where little hamster Sophie was sound asleep I added, "I like Sophie. If I left for a month, I'd miss Sophie."
Yes, a man my age should have learned when to put a zipper on his lips.
At certain moments I feel a deep-down desire to douse someone with a bucket of muddy water. My current target is a congressman, John Boehner from the opposite end of Ohio. For some reason a lot of wimpy politicians come from that area. When Boehner shows up on the TV news, which happens far too often, his coal-black hair looks like it has been painted on his scalp. Not a single strand is ever out of place. The impression is given that if caught dead center in a vicious tornado that ripped off his clothes and deposited him in the next county, not one hair would be disturbed.
No head of hair should be that perfect. No person should be that perfect. A man should look like Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen. Here in the old Industrial Valley our politicians look a little rumpled. Take Sherrod Brown, our gravel-voiced senator, for example. I'll bet there are times when he feels like dousing someone with a bucket of muddy water. I wouldn't be surprised if he feels that way when he sees John Boehner.


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