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, June 11, 2009

Yes, there are bad kids

Some people say there are no bad kids. That's a crock. Jackie saw one today at the doctor's waiting room. The boy of 7 or 8 had misbehaved when he saw the doctor so his grandfather explained why it wasn't the thing to do. The kid said, "And the point?"
Sounds like he'll be another Ronnie. When my 12-and-under baseball team used to practice at the field behind the high school Ronnie, who was about 10, would show up and sound off. He was better than anyone else and knew more than anyone else so he always had smart remarks for the players and sometimes for me. I'd chase him away but he'd keep running his mouth all the way home, which was just across the street.
He never changed and was still that way when he played on the high school's junior varsity basketball team during his sophomore year. The filth that came out of his mouth exceeded his talent.
Nothing changed when summer came. He had a bad word for everyone he'd see. One day a neighbor heard his mother say, "Ronnie, your dad wants you to take the trash can out to the curb."
Ronnie was right in form. "Tell the old bastard to do it himself."
That seemed to be the final straw and the old bastard couldn't take it any more. When he arrived home after work he was carrying a shotgun. No one knew if Ronnie had a few choice words before he was blown to pieces. Dad used the other barrel on himself so when the mother returned home she had some clean-up work ahead of her after the police left.
No such thing as a bad kid? Those who say that never met Ronnie. The bleeding hearts will contend it was the fault of the parents or he needed counseling. They're wrong. Ronnie got exactly what he needed. It just took a while for him to get it.


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