For Tony Ahern, volunteer service work truly was a leap of faith. It has led him around the world, where he has helped bring water, electricity, and transportation options to those in need.
“When I first started doing these trips, it wasn’t as if I had a grand vision,” he says. “I just wanted to do something, so that’s what I did. I decided I would just go on faith that I would find the right projects. I didn’t need a whole game plan.”
To Roger Rhonemus, it’s almost like a Christmas bonus.
Every year for about 20 years now, Rhonemus, who farms 800 acres of corn, soybeans, and hay in Adams County, looks forward to receiving his capital credits check from Adams Rural Electric Cooperative.
Two decades ago, Rhonemus, 60, used those annual checks, which typically go out to Adams REC members each November, to buy Christmas presents for his three children. Now that the kids are grown with families of their own, he uses it to buy presents for his eight grandchildren. And he couldn’t be happier.
Harrisville, West Virginia, boasts the oldest operating dime store in the United States. Berdine’s Five & Dime began as a general store in 1908 and has been operating at its current location on Court Street since 1915. It looks to be ready for an even longer stay.
No one ever went into the vintage toy business out of dreary obligation.
In fact, many of the people we met during our look at vintage toy stores around Ohio started as hobbyists collecting the memories of their own childhoods.
“A hobby turned into a business,” says Mike Patterson, owner of Mike’s Vintage Toys in Springboro, describing his career path.
Chuck Chafin has worked on electric lines with the South Central Power Company for 18 years, during which time he’s seen his share of power outages and general destruction both in Ohio, and beyond, caused by extremes in weather.
So while he wasn’t particularly surprised at the damage that he and 72 other lineworkers and supervisors from Ohio’s electric cooperative network found in Georgia in the wake of Hurricane Irma in early September, it still presented a big job.
The headlines in late 1950 looked grim for our boys on the front lines in the Korean War — and for the Ohio-based Lustron Corporation.
Literally, side by side, you could read newspaper columns across the country about Marines and soldiers facing the coldest winter imaginable as they sought to liberate South Korea from the Communist aggressors, and about the Lustron Corporation facing ruin as it was pushed out of the burgeoning post-World War II housing market. Both made national news.
