Xenia, Ohio – The holiday season is getting a cheerful kickstart at the Community STE[A]M Academy, where families are invited to a “Very Merry Open House” on Wednesday, Dec. 18, from 5 to 7 p.m. at 855 Lower Bellbrook Rd. in Xenia.
The school promises a relaxed, family-friendly evening—complete with holiday fun and a special appearance from the big guy himself. Santa will be on hand to hear Christmas wishes and spread plenty of festive spirit.
But the event isn’t just about holiday magic. It’s also a chance for prospective families to get a closer look at what makes the Community STE[A]M Academy unique. Visitors can tour the building, chat with teachers and staff, and learn more about the school’s hands-on, project-based approach.
If you’re wondering about that extra “A” in STE[A]M, the academy is happy to explain. While STEM focuses on Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math, STEAM adds the Arts into the mix—recognizing creativity, design thinking, and expression as essential parts of problem-solving. At the Community STE[A]M Academy, students use both technical skills and artistic thinking to explore and innovate, whether they’re studying robotics, environmental science, or digital design.
That blend of creativity and science will be on display during the open house, as middle and high school students present their latest sustainability projects. Guests can also roll up their sleeves for some hands-on holiday fun, including cookie decorating and watercolor card making—starting with making the paint from scratch.
School leaders say the evening is meant to be fun, festive, and informative. Whether you’re exploring enrollment or just want to enjoy a little holiday cheer, everyone is welcome.
“It’s a night you won’t want to miss,” organizers said. “Bring the family, join the fun, and see what makes our STE[A]M community so special.” For more information, contact Kim Haines, Communications Coordinator at 937-800-2720.
The Xenia Daily Gazette is inviting local writers and storytellers to take part in its first annual Holiday Short Story Contest, which is going on now. Sponsored by McIlvaine Realtors, the contest encourages community members to put their holiday reflections into words under this year’s theme: “What the holidays mean to me.”
The inaugural contest is open to anyone age 12 and older, and entries may be up to 800 words in length. Stories should be sent as attachments or pasted into the email body to editor@xeniagazette.com by December 15, 2025. All entries must include the writer’s name, address, phone number, and email address.
The winner will receive a $50 VISA gift card, courtesy of McIlvaine Realtors, and their work will be published in both the Xenia Daily Gazette and the Fairborn Daily Herald during Christmas week, giving the author a special spotlight during the holiday season.
To help select the winning story, the Gazette has brought in a familiar local voice: Gery Deer, longtime contributing journalist, columnist, and author of the Gazette’s “Deer In Headlines” series, who will serve as one of the judges. Deer is participating courtesy of GLD Communications in Jamestown, which has supported Reading Is Fundamental (RIF) for the last three years through its national literacy initiative.
Deer said the contest offers the community an exceptional opportunity to reflect on what makes the season meaningful. “This is the time of year when family means the most, memories become stories told to new generations, and sharing seems to be at the heart of the season,” he said. “We hope people will share their stories with us and maybe even inspire others to write something as well.”
The Gazette hopes the new contest will become a cherished annual tradition, welcoming writers of all skill levels—from students and first-time storytellers to seasoned creatives looking for a festive way to express themselves.
Entries will be judged on originality, clarity, and how well they capture the holiday theme. While participation is open beyond Greene County, organizers are especially hopeful for strong involvement from area schools, families, and aspiring writers eager to share what the holidays mean to them.
McIlvaine Realtors, known for their long-standing support of community programs, expressed enthusiasm about sponsoring the first-ever contest and encouraging a new generation of local storytellers.
It is entirely possible that I spent too much time in this work writing about my parents. We have all had remarkable people in our lives, and my immediate family just happened to be some of the most extraordinary people in my life. With the holidays just around the corner, I wanted to relate a story that has almost become folklore.
The story begins in the late 1950s, sometime before I came along. My father was a machinist at National Cash Register, NCR, one of the largest employers in Ohio, if not the entire state. He also had what we would call side hustles. He would haul scrap metal to make ends meet, a good business when more efficient options were replacing the old cast-iron coal furnaces. Selling them for scrap was hard work but profitable. He also did concrete work and other odd jobs to help create a stable life for his family. To Dad, it was the kind of life he never had growing up in the foothills of the Appalachian and Southeastern Ohio.
While he was working, my mother raised her children, made a home for them all, and took care of the day-to-day operations of the household. She was one of the hardest working people I ever knew, even back then. But no matter how hard they worked, there were years when there just wasn’t enough money.
Around Christmas time, during a particularly lean year, the prospect of a happy Christmas looked grim. My brother was in Boy Scouts then, and my father was an assistant scoutmaster. Someone within the organization learned of my family’s financial difficulties. Shortly before Christmas, some people arrived at our house with food and gifts for all four. I remember my mother talking about it through tears as if someone had lifted them from a heavy darkness. She was eternally grateful, as was my father.
As the years went on, times got better for my family. Regardless of how little we had at any given time, I remember my parents always doing what they could to help those less fortunate. That brings me to Christmas of 1988.
That particular year, my dad learned of a nearby family that had fallen on hard times. The father had lost his industrial job, and the mother worked part-time while both did their best to raise their three small children. My mother immediately went into action.
Mobilizing the pre-Internet communications network within our family, she reorganized that year’s party into a relief event for the distressed family. With a little investigation and intuitive guesswork, my family collected information on the parents’ needs, clothing sizes, ages, and children’s interests. We even had people trying to find employment for the young father.
Our annual Christmas party, already a real show complete with music, songs, games, and dancing Santa, took on a whole new look. The price of admission was a donation. A list had been distributed informing everyone about what was needed and providing a way to let my mom know who was contributing what. With each person who arrived for the party came more toys, clothes, games, and food items. We even collected some cash.
On Christmas Eve, we loaded everything into a van, Santa riding shotgun, and headed for the family’s house. When we knocked on the door, we were greeted by a tiny three-year-old girl in a yellow onesie, a couple of toes poking out of the worn feet. She squealed away as she soaked in the sight of Santa Claus at her doorstep. To maintain the dignity of these hard-working people, there must be no clue where all this originated. My family were simply asked to deliver it to them.
My parents taught us by example. Kindness at the holidays should be the same throughout the year. Still, there is a gentleness during the Christmas season. We were under no illusions that a few gifts and boxes of mac and cheese would change the lives of this family. But at least, for one special holiday, they were together, safe, and they knew they mattered to someone. Sometimes, that’s enough to see you through the worst of times. Hopefully, we can all remember that year-round.
Author’s Note: A short story is based on my family’s charitable work. It’s called “A Special Place at a Special Time” and is available on Amazon. However, a revised version will be released shortly.
Gallery: The photos include pictures of the farm, the long lane that was decorated each year, Gary Deer Jr. as Santa and some of the later parties. Each one generated food, clothing, and other necessities for a local family. A few times, they were people in our own family – because that’s what you do.
How the front of the farmhouse generally appeared at Christmas. The post that originally held the vegetable stand sign. This was taken in 2014 and is not photoshopped. It’s all real.The fireplace in “The Band Room” at the farm. The room was added because so ma ny people wanted to attend the Christmas parties.This is how the Christmas tree was arranged in our tiny farmhouse basement in the early days.The charitable parties eventually led to the creation of The Brothers & Co., our family’s band. We’ve performed all over the region at festivals, theatres, and even The Schuster Center.
The American Labor Day holiday was first organized and celebrated by the Central Labor Union in New York City on Tuesday, September 5, 1882. Two year later, as the idea spread to celebrate a “workingmen’s holiday,” the union selected the first Monday in September to be the official, common date.
All across the country, industrial centers began holding celebrations of their own, following general guidelines set in the first proposal of the holiday. Each would include a street parade, a festival and amusements all for the enjoyment of the workers and their families.
Photo Courtesy US Department of Labor.
The legislation that established Labor Day as a legal holiday was passed on February 21, 1887 in the state of Oregon and four more states followed suit that same year. There is some dispute, even a century later, as to who was the actual “founder” of the holiday, but that should be left to your own research.
For most modern Americans, Labor Day is just another day off and a last break to end summer. But it should still be held as a celebration of the working class who build our streets, run our factories, and keep the infrastructure of America up and running.
When I think of Labor Day, I think of those in my family who worked long, exhausting hours with low pay and virtually no benefits or vacation time. Many worked at National Cash Register (NCR) in Dayton, Ohio. In fact, my father worked there during the 1950s and 60s for a whopping $1.50 per hour (around $9 in today’s money), and that was some 30 cents higher than the minimum wage at the time.
In my opinion, hard work is something a lot of modern Americans today seem to be allergic to, for lack of a better description. Our information-driven economy has many of us office-bound, tied to a desk and a computer screen rarely to experience the kind of manual work necessary at the turn of the century when the Labor Day holiday first started.
Constant complaints about how immigrants “take” the jobs of Americans are unfounded, to say the least. Those jobs are always available but no one seems to want them – they’re hard. Immigrants looking for a home in the Land of the Free simply appear to be more willing to work, taking any job necessary to provide for their families. America was built on this kind of fortitude and it should be admired.
Instead of being so closed-minded Americans should be more appreciative that someone is still willing to work hard without complaint, day in and day out, to the benefit of the rest of us. Papers or not, any person willing to work hard in this country and benefit the greater good is an American.
I come from a long line of hard workers. There was no privilege in any branch of my family and I mean absolutely none. My ancestors and immediate family were factory workers, truck drivers, farmers, coal miners, and a host of other grueling occupations. To me, Labor Day is a day to salute my own heritage and a way to be thankful that my family saw fit to encourage me to go to college and pursue my own interests.
But I was not coddled nor did I have it easy. I paid for my own education. I drove a truck for my dad, worked in a plastics factory, swept floors, worked in a tire and auto repair shop, and helped manage our farm and livestock. Without those experiences, I’d be a very different person and I’m grateful for them. I still do that kind of work on occasion, but, gratefully, I don’t have to depend on it for my livelihood and I have the utmost respect for those who do.
So this Labor Day, regardless of your occupation, income or professional position, consider those who might have it tougher or may not have the same privileges. Labor Day celebrates all workers, but the highest tribute should go to those who do the hardest work and continue to maintain the standard of living for Americans in all walks of life.
Gery L. Deer is an independent columnist and business writer. Deer In Headlines is distributed by GLD Enterprises Communications, Ltd. More at deerinheadlines.com.
Every year about this time, people wrap up their Christmas shopping, attend uncomfortable social functions and worry about New Year’s resolutions they have no intention of keeping. It’s a stressful time emotionally, financially and socially. In the end, Darwinian Theory incarnate enables one to reach the finish line of January 1st without a nervous breakdown – survival of the fittest, beginning with Christmas parties.
Between family gatherings and holiday office parties, we spend about half our free time in December enduring the company of people we don’t necessarily like or want to be around the rest of the time. The point of all of this unwarranted schmoozing varies depending on your particular position in society.
If you’re a corporate exec hosting an event, you’re expected to make a good show of the holidays, pretending that you’re generous and thoughtful to those whose backs you stepped on in order to get where you are today. As an underling, you’re required to fain some misplaced exposition of loyalty to people who neither appreciate your hard work and long hours nor identify with your problems just trying to make ends meet. Of course, the ridiculous doesn’t stop there.
I debated whether to even mention fruitcake. It seems like a trite and highly over-dramatized topic, but still may warrant some scrutiny. It’s not the actual fruitcake that should be considered, but what it represents. Along with the late Twinkie, the fruitcake has been touted as one of the few sources of food, if you can call it that, which might actually survive after a nuclear disaster.
In truth, the fruitcake is a symbol of the requirement bestowed on today’s society that we give – and give a lot – to people we don’t even like. Now there are people out there for whom fruitcake is a genuine treat, they may be in need of some psychiatric help, but they do exist. But giving the fruitcake because it’s an easy buy in fulfillment of the gift requirement is just ridiculous.
Along with the requisite gifts comes a host of holiday cards clogging the mailbox from people you don’t talk to any other time but to whom you are now suddenly obligated to return the gesture in a never-ending cycle of artificial sentiment. The constant worry over whether to send a “Christmas” card or more generic holiday greeting is maddening. Get over it already. How offensive could it be to receive a note that wishes someone good cheer? Apparently it offends a great many people, but not enough for me to worry about.
Outdoors, we inevitably decorate the house in hopes of being noticed by some neighborhood committee arbitrarily voting on who shelled out the most for new LED light strings, to say nothing of excessive electric bills. In a variation of the “keeping up with the Joneses” mentality, each house along the street progresses with increasing gaudiness, ranging from a lighted reindeer whose flashing lights on its legs make it appear to be running, to two-story, inflatable representations of the Nativity which look like they would be more at home at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. And the list goes on.
Now all of this might seem a little cynical and, at some point, everyone thinks about this stuff but most people would never admit to any of it. We’re generally happy just going along with everything and continuing in the repetitive traditions of our families or friends. In the end, the holidays were meant as a time of celebration but for many they can bring depression, anxiety and frustration. Recognizing the causes of these feelings can be a first step in easing them a bit, before they thoroughly take over.
Some things you just have to accept. There are the haves and the have-nots, along with those who don’t care one way or another. Christmas, Hanukkah, Solstice, or whatever you celebrate, don’t forget the point and, like the saying goes, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”
The Jamestown Comet 