LEO Weekly February 16, 2022 by leoweekly

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LOUISVILLE ORCHESTRA PRESENTS

THE COLOR, PASSION, AND RHYTHMIC ENERGY OF LATIN MUSIC EXPLODES WITH BRILLIANT WORKS. New works and a First Edition commission celebrate the trailblazing spirit of the Louisville Orchestra, featuring the exciting young timba band, PEOPLE OF EARTH. Prepare for dazzling concerts showcasing the variety and sophistication of music of Latin American composers and those inspired by these vibrant cultures.

WORLD PREMIERE PERFORMANCES FESTIVAL OF LATIN AMERICAN MUSIC 1 Teddy Abrams, conductor 4 MAR 11AM 5 MAR 8PM Kentucky Center

Heitor VILLA-LOBOS: Alvarada na floresta tropical (“Dawn in a Tropical Forest”) Dafnis PRIETO: Tentación (“Temptation”) WORLD PREMIERES Angélica NEGRÓN: Fractal Isles Leonard BERNSTEIN: Symphonic Dances from West Side Story

CONCIERTO DE ARANJUEZ

FESTIVAL OF LATIN AMERICAN MUSIC 2 Teddy Abrams, conductor 11 MAR 11AM 12 MAR 8PM Kentucky Center

Aaron COPLAND: El Salón México Gabriela Lena FRANK: Concertiňo Cusqueňo Jose Pablo MONCAYO: Cumbres (”Summits” ) Clarice ASSAD: Nhanderu Arturo MARQUEZ: Danzón No. 2 George GERSHWIN: Cuban Overture

Kalena Bovell, conductor Stephen Mattingly, guitar 24, 25, 26 MAR Check website for locations and times

Georges BIZET: Suite No. 1 from Carmen Joaquin RODRIGO: Concierto de Aranjuez Alberto GINASTERA: Variaciones concertantes

502-587-8681

For more information on these concerts, visit LouisvilleOrchestra.org/concerts. Season tickets still on sale! Covid protocols apply

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nother round of our annual Literary LEO competition is in the books, and we’re once again blown away by all of the talent that floats through our community. We selected a 1st through 3rd

place for each category — short fiction, poetry, color photography, black & white photography and cartoons — and various honorable mentions throughout, but it wasn’t easy. The short fiction had some tremen-

dous entries, from stories about disconnected friendships that were broken by distance and ruined by time to snapshots of death and desperation. The ability of some of the writers to create developed characters and rock solid plots in a such a small amount of space was outstanding. This year’s poetry submissions were broad and spanned the heartbroken to hearts-on-fire. There was love, rage and political indignation. The winning pieces exhibited skill in construction and content, and in many ways spoke directly to the times we live in and the quiet lives behind closed doors. It is encouraging that year after year poets of all levels submit to Literary LEO and each year it seems tougher

and tougher to pick a winner when all creations of art are valuable. Even if your poem is not here in this small space that we’re given to share, keep submitting and keep writing. The photography was striking and beautiful, with stills that were both rooted in stark reality and surreal fantasy. The internet is obviously the dominant form of how information and media flows, but there’s nothing quite like being able to put high-quality photos in print. The cartoons, per usual, ranged from serious to bizarre, which is sort of the point of the category. Anyway, here are the winners. We hope you enjoy. •

COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY: FIRST PLACE

DECAYING ORGANIC MATTER By Vyncex Gorlami

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

BROWN-FORMAN MIDNITE RAMBLE

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SHORT FICTION: FIRST PLACE

THE ENDEAVOR By Rachel Mack ALAINA stepped off the plane with a sense of dread rather than freedom—she couldn’t count on L.A. to be anything more than a smog-laden trafﬁc jam under a curtain of oppressively bright sun. She pulled her small blue suitcase behind her and imagined Bec standing at the bottom of the escalator. “Give me your bag,” Steven said. He had his own, a suitcase identical to Alaina’s, that he pulled in one hand. “Don’t be silly, I can pull my suitcase.” It was small, ﬁlled with a one-piece bathing suit and a few sundresses, plus an extra pair of sandals. “I can pull it if you get tired.” Alaina laughed. “I won’t get tired.” She followed close behind Steven, thinking of Bec every time she caught a glimpse of curly blonde hair. It was immensely gratifying to imagine running into Bec on the streets of L.A. She already knew what she’d say: “My mother is dead.” Bec would draw a hand to her mouth, sorrowful and sympathetic. Alaina would continue: “My baby is dead, too. Miscarriage. A week before my mother died.” For Bec, there would be no massaging of the truth, no smile to lighten the blow, no hopeful assurances that she and Steven planned to try again. Bec would be accountable for her failure as a friend, and Alaina would take pleasure in seeing her panic and crumble at the sound of bad news. She looked forward to it, knowing she’d at least have the shiny satisfaction of putting the friend who’d disappointed her in her place. In the rental car, Steven leaned over and kissed her. “You’re the navigator,” he said. “Lead me.” What she really wanted to do in L.A. was be a good wife. Present. Young again. She wanted to be a sickly sweet couple. In spite of everything, she had Steven, the companion she’d never known she needed. It would be shameful to waste such an excellent husband on a woman who’d become rat-haired and wild-eyed in the face of grief, or even worse, a woman who was preoccupied by a friendship that had trailed off into nothing. Bec wasn’t worth thinking about. Steven had planned this trip in hopes that it would cheer her up. She could show him her old stomping grounds at UCLA and then retreat to the beaches of Malibu for nothing but sunshine and R&R. And maybe... he’d smiled shyly and raised his eyebrows comically. Maybe time to try again? It had been a year since the miscarriage and Alaina knew full well that it was long since time to try again. Two months ago, without a word to Steven, she’d stopped the birth control that she’d

insisted on resuming after losing the baby. It just hadn’t mattered. Since the miscarriage and her mother’s funeral, she’d had no desire to be touched. He’d reserved a convertible so they could drive to Malibu with the ocean wind whipping their hair. Alaina’s heart jumped at the sight of palm trees, close and in the distance. She hadn’t seen one in the years since she moved back to Kentucky. “I think you’re onto something with this trip,” she said, and Steven smiled. She wanted to want him, which had to mean something. The sadness had settled down to a level she could live with, though she didn’t expect it to go away completely. She looked forward to the day that she could surprise Steven with a positive pregnancy test, and even more so to the day that their child was born happy and healthy. When they arrived at their condo on the beach, Steven removed their swimwear and a spray bottle of sunscreen from the suitcases. “Let’s go, babe,” he said. “Beach time.” “Don’t you want to look around?” “We have the house all week. We’re wasting prime beach time.” Outside, the sun was perfect and the water sparkled. In a residential area, the beach was nearly empty. Alaina walked toward the water as Steven set out their blanket. Up to her knees in the ocean, she felt just the same as she had on childhood trips to the beach: irrepressibly happy. She ran into the depths, ﬁnally diving into a wave. Salt burned her eyes. Eventually Steven joined her, and they bobbed and ﬂoated in the ocean together for the rest of the day. On the way back to the house, they picked two enormous oranges and an avocado from trees in the yard. “We can eat off the land,” Alaina said. “I do have a couple non-beach activities planned, if you want a change of pace.” “I don’t think I will.” For dinner, they squeezed fresh juice and scooped out creamy bites of avocado before falling asleep on the couch together in a salty, sticky pile.

with Wynton Marsalis

February 28 • The Kentucky Center KentuckyPerformingArts.org

When Alaina woke the next morning, sun glinted off the water. She walked onto the patio and took a deep breath of salty air. A woman with short-cropped gray hair was close to the shore. She waved at Alaina and continued power-walking down the beach. Even on this ﬁrst morning of a surprisingly LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

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The Endeavor - Continued from page 5 perfect vacation, she remembered. “Everything okay?” her mother asked. Alaina had excused herself the day before, claiming fatigue. She’d walked straight to the emergency room, where the ultrasound showed no heartbeat. The baby was motionless inside her. “Yes. I was feeling a little gassy.” “Runs in the family.” Her mother grimaced lightly as she settled back onto the pillow. The look transformed to a satisfied smile. “You’ll be a good mother.” “Thanks.” Alaina mustered a tightlipped smile. She’d thought she was going to tell her, to let her mother comfort her one last time, but she couldn’t do it. There was no reason to add to a dying woman’s burden. “I’m sorry I won’t be here to see it. But I do see it.” Bedside crying was frowned upon, but Alaina couldn’t control her sobs. Alaina’s mother bent an elbow and swept the tears away with the back of her hand, her bony knuckles leaving an imprint that remained on Alaina’s cheek. Two days later, her mother lost consciousness. Another three and she was dead. Alaina had her D&C the day after the funeral. It was summer, so she had six weeks to marinate in her grief. A week before school began, Steven put her in the car and drove her to work. She sat on a lab stool and gave half-hearted directions as to how she’d like her classroom arranged. It didn’t seem to matter if she was a good teacher anymore. A history teacher, Steven’s set-up was less complicated. She burrowed into the frayed armchair in the back corner of the room, picking at the old brown upholstery as he wrote lessons, alphabetized books, and affixed posters to the walls. Steven had been the best surprise of her high school teaching career, which had started out feeling like a defeat. At UCLA, she’d gone on for her master’s in astrophysics, and though she loved the material, she found it stifling to live in a computer lab. It was her father, a teacher, who’d prodded her home. “Come teach with me. You get to be up and

around, communicating with people.” Alaina had to admit it sounded appealing. She returned to Kentucky to study for her teaching certiﬁcate and landed a job easily. She’d never imagined that the move would diminish her closeness with Bec, but it did. In L.A., Bec had moved over to USC for her Ph.D. When they spoke every two or three months, Alaina still felt a little burn of jealousy when Bec mentioned brilliant guest lecturers or research breakthroughs. The last time they spoke, Bec had a big announcement. “You’ll never guess who’s a postdoc in my lab.” “I don’t know. Yoichiro Nambu? No, Peter Higgs!” “God, shut up. No, it’s Andy Weinbaum. He’s going by Andrew now. And the girlfriend moved back to Oklahoma or Ohio, wherever she came from.” “Oh my god, Bec, you have to make a move!” “I know, it’s just. We’ve joked about it so much at this point that it doesn’t seem like a real thing to do.” “It’s real. You have to do it.” Alaina smiled a little, imagining a beachside physicist wedding. Her own wedding was six months away, at the church she grew up in. Bec didn’t come, and she stopped answering Alaina’s calls and would reply with an apologetic text: “Sorry I missed you! Soooo busy!” One of these texts arrived as Alaina prepared a favorite lesson: sending a giant Slinky down the school’s grand limestone staircase in order to demonstrate the properties of waves. The kids yelled as the lime-green Slinky undulated down the steps, and Alaina realized her pride couldn’t withstand another unreturned phone call. It was at the summit of Mauna Loa Mountain that Alaina and Bec’s friendship transmuted into a lifelong bond. Before that day, they’d been tentative but enthusiastic, surprised by the quick, easy way they’d taken to each other. Both juniors at UCLA, they were the students who sat in the front row of their solid-state physics class and stayed put in those seats for the next class, The Evolving Universe. Bec was a mechan-

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

Continued on page 7

BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY: FIRST PLACE

UNTITLED By Sean McInnis

Literary

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CARTOON: FIRST PLACE

POETRY: FIRST PLACE

By Dan Trabue

By William Tucker

A CAGE TOO SMALL

GOD’S HAIR

And when He tired of listening to prayers and pleas, He could be found out in the garage, drinking beer and working on his ‘57 Chevy.

end of the universe where the earth was a blue crystal ball hanging from his rearview mirror.

A candy apple red beauty that Jesus never drove.

The other gods bored him with their bluster and brimstone, so he hightailed it out of there, to a corner all his own. He sat alone in the void by the glow of the dashboard light and decided to people a world so he’d feel less alone. After planting trees and molding clay one day He decided He needed a trim.

The Endeavor - Continued from page 6 ics nerd, while Alaina was an aspiring astronomer. They’d lean into each other and whisper heady secrets about their futures — doctoral degrees, genius, glory. Even as they spent hours speculating about the private life of the physics TA, Andy Weinbaum, they’d giggle imagining the similar conversations their mothers must have had about boys and wedding dresses. Not so for these girls. They would put their brains to good use, no question. It was during an Evolving Universe lecture that Alaina’s obsession with the Keck Telescopes began. It became the ﬁrst wish of her heart to see them, and she didn’t have any trouble convincing Bec that they had to make the pilgrimage. They both took a second summer job to save up for the trip to Hawaii. They spent the last week of summer before senior year sleeping in the cheapest motel on the Big Island, and saved their cash for the ride to the telescopes. Bec and Alaina stepped out of the tour van holding hands, both bundled in puffy jackets the tour company provided. Not only was it cold at the

In the beginning, God had a mullet. He tricked all the other gods by being business in the front and party in the back

summit, the air was thin. Alaina’s glee could not be contained. She let go of Bec’s hand and ran in a circle, taking in the view before stopping to gasp for air. She was surrounded on all sides by ocean and wispy clouds. Maui was visible in the distance, an earthy mound in the vast sea. “Calm yourself, darling.” Bec laughed as she approached. “Long, deep breaths.” They ﬁgured out quickly that speaking was a waste of good oxygen. They moved slowly, examining the informational plaques and taking countless pictures of the telescope domes and the ocean views. There were two white domes that housed Keck I and Keck II, plus eleven other domes that housed less-famous telescopes. They wandered from dome to dome, hoping to see inside a window or an open door. It seemed like they’d just stepped off the van when the tour guide announced that they’d be leaving in ten minutes. Continued on page 8

He grabbed scissors from the glove box and cut and shaped until He had a beautiful pompadour. He used some grease from the engine to slick it back. And so He became an ad man, trying to sell mankind on His brand. But after the

fall

it was time for a change. The slicked up style man had turned to mange. So He went for a crew cut, just as His son was born. Easy to care for, a warrior God That struck fear in the hearts of men. Tapered just so to make His truth even harder to take.

33 years on, His son alone on earth crying Dad, get me down from this thing, Just as God looked in the mirror and saw that His hair had fallen into a combover. The perfect salt and pepper wave to hide His age. Here His son was dying, and He couldn’t help but think of all the changes that had come since that mullet long ago. As ages passed, He kept pulling out his hair, from all the dumb things we did on earth, how it seemed we didn’t care for heavenly things. We were all too busy to notice God in the corner, bald and fuming, our smug self-importance hiding the glare from His head. Mr. Clean revving the engine of that favorite Chevy aimed straight at the earth, Ready to wipe out his biggest mistake.

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

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The Jewish Community Center of Louisville presents

24th Annual

The Endeavor - Continued from page 7

2022 FEBRUARY 5-27

Masel Tov Cocktail

Blewish February 5-27

February 1-27

Love It Was Not

200 Meters

February 15-17

February 18-20

The Fourth Window

Blue Box

February 20-22

February 22-24

Let It Be Morning

Greener Pastures

February 25-27

For tickets and details visit

JEWISHLOUISVILLE.ORG/FILMFESTIVAL Founding Partner The Louis Levy & Wilma Probst Levy Film and Theater Arts Fund THANK YOU TO OUR 2022 FESTIVAL SPONSORS Goldstein Leibson Cultural Arts Fund

Wilma Probst Levy • Cantor David Lipp’s Discretionary Fund at Congregation Adath Jeshurun The Naamani Memorial Fund For Jewish Culture • Susan and Jeffrey Callen

celebrating 50 years

Ann & Coleman Friedman Fund Keiley and Sharon Caster • Janet and Jonathan Hodes THE

TEMPLE

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

Ronald Rubin Matthew and Ellana Bessen • Meryl & Frank Kasdan Sheila G. Lynch & Steven S. Goldstein Janice and Alan Glaubinger • Rhonda and Jim Reskin Susan and Robert Waterman

“Let’s just sit,” Alaina said. The two girls edged away from the crowd and sat quietly on the hard ground, taking in the view without the distractions of cameras or informational plaques. Resting, it was easier to speak. “You know what this reminds me of?” Alaina said. “The Sears Tower.” “Is it freezing and windy at the top of the Sears Tower?” “No, but you can touch the windows and feel how cold it is outside. And it doesn’t matter who you are or who you’re with. When you’re up there, it’s just humbling. Everyone’s quiet. And there’s this air of romance.” Bec trained her ice-blue eyes on the clouds and took a deep breath. “Yeah.” The tour guide had explained that most of the telescopes sent a stream of digital data to scientists working all over the world. Alaina imagined herself at a computer, watching a live feed from the Keck Telescopes, making calculations and consulting with her brilliant co-researchers. They’d work late every night, eating vending machine dinners and publishing major scientific breakthroughs. She’d tell Bec about this vision later, when there was more oxygen to breath between sentences. “Two minutes! Please reboard the van!” Back in the van, Alaina and Bec buckled themselves in, relieved to feel the heat venting onto their faces. As they approached the bottom of the mountain, Bec stirred. “I can’t wait to go to Weinbaum’s office hours and tell him about this trip. He’ll be so turned on.” Together, they fell into a fit of giggles. They kept a running list of nerdy things they could do to pull Weinbaum’s attention away from his hometown sweetheart, who’d moved to L.A. to be with him as he earned his Ph.D. After the telescopes, Alaina and Bec spent the rest of their trip on the beach, drinking cocktails out of coconuts and swimming with dolphins. Back home, they grew closer. Alaina had come to UCLA on an airplane from Lexington, Kentucky, her life boiled down to two suitcases. Bec was from Venice Beach, a child of the ocean. She surfed with her family every weekend and roller skated to (and in) the grocery store. Before moving to California, Alaina’s skating experience was limited to endless circles at the occasional elementary-school roller rink party. She never learned how to brake in skates, instead relying on the half-wall between the rink and the snack bar to stop her. She saw herself careening into the ocean and resisted Bec’s invitations to try on a pair of her old skates and hit the boardwalk together. It was Fall Break of senior year when Bec finally convinced her. “We’ll stay close to the handrail. We’ll go really slow. You can bring sandals to change into in case we go anywhere.”

It wasn’t so scary, Bec realized, as she bumped along the boardwalk, clinging to the side rail. She knew how to skate, and could use the rail to stop if she needed to. She was wearing a helmet. Bec skated freely, sailing ahead of her and circling back to check on her every few minutes. Finally, she let go of the rail and pushed herself to full speed. The ocean air raced over her body as she swerved to avoid a woman with a baby carriage. “You’re doing it!” Bec yelled as she spun in circles down the boardwalk. Alaina did use the rail as a brake that day, and she fell asleep with a large purple bruise blooming over her right hip. But she wasn’t afraid. A month later, she confidently rolled through the produce section, filling her cart with mangoes and salad greens. Bec had taught her to brake. On graduation day, their parents came to the boardwalk to take pictures and watch them skate. Alaina spun fast, her long polyester robe swirling around her. Bec jumped up and and cheered. “You’re a California girl now, girlfriend!” The last day of the trip, Alaina woke to the sound of rain on the beach house roof. I can’t believe this. In her six years of living in L.A., she could hardly remember any rainy days. She hadn’t even asked Steven what his nonbeach activities were. They hadn’t been necessary. Every day they were in the water. Eventually, they took a break from the orange-avocado diet and went out for sushi, her favorite. Back at the house, they’d made good use of the bed. Alaina slid her hand over to Steven’s and laced her fingers through his. He’d done his research. The first non-beach activity on his list was a visit to see the Endeavor at The California Science Center, just a short drive from their beach house. Visitors weren’t allowed to touch or enter the spacecraft, but being near it was enough to send Alaina into fits of joy. She squeezed Steven’s hand and hopped up and down as they waited in line. “Have I told you you’re the best husband in the world? Have I told you?” She still felt those absences, her mother and her child, dark pillars in the back of her mind, but she was able to turn her focus to the present. It was exactly what she’d have planned if she’d had any interest in planning a trip. Tickets were sold in groups that entered on the hour. Alaina and Steven’s group included a wide mix of age groups and races, locals and tourists. “This is the power of space! It brings people together!” Steven laughed. He was not a space nerd but he respected Alaina’s passion. When the door opened, the white spacecraft overwhelmed the room. Alaina Continued on page 10

Literary

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CARTOON: SECOND PLACE

BARFLY By William Vincent

POETRY: SECOND PLACE

HOUSE SANS HOME By Todd Walker The fan was mimicking the wind in its artificial environment. The sterile ceiling, the two tone walls (barless to sight, not mind). Shadows find no pleasure and come ‘round no more. I find no true joy beyond photos and memories. Purgatory of the heart. Solitary of the soul. Glowing embers for a touch. I saw a dad playing catch with his son — no yelling, disgust or awkwardness. I felt sad and angry. My head weighed down and I walked away. I fear the hereditary line of fatherhood and become a cliff towards it. Emptiness and vain my heirs. I believe Shakespeare said it simply with, ‘To be‛...without which nothing else

would be of consequence. Patrick Henry called it ‘liberty.‛ Mary Oliver curiously wondered aloud, referring to it as ‘wild and precious.‛ I‛ve watched it rise in smoke like boiling hot water spilled on a Tennessee Williams sidewalk on a thick August noon. And drank to its oblivion. A fool and his time lose far more than a fool and his money. Changing of the reasons never held back the tide. And my left hand always puts the ice in the glass. So goes the drunken boat against the reef. So goes a lonely man through life. Accomplishments in liters and a legacy of questions. LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

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COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY: SECOND PLACE

By Eric Moore

UNTITLED

The Endeavor - Continued from page 8 bolted ahead of Steven for her customary rush around the exhibit before she slowed down to take in all the details. She stopped halfway around, surprised to see a cluster of security guards near the exit door. Between their legs, she could see that a woman from the previous group sat on the ﬂoor, her back propped up against the wall. “We’re getting you a wheelchair, ma’am. It will be here in a moment.” “That’s not necessary. I have a walker. My boyfriend went to get it from the car.” The voice was unmistakable. It was Bec. Alaina froze in place as Steven wandered up behind her. “Ma’am, it’s policy. If you fall in the museum, we provide you a wheelchair for the rest of your visit.”

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

“I will NOT sit in a wheelchair!” “It’s a short distance to the exit and the parking lot, ma’am. You’ll hardly be in the chair at all.” “No!” Alaina smiled when she saw a man push a walker into the room. It was Andy Weinbaum. Bec had made her move. “Sir, we’re required to provide a wheelchair to your car.” “Oh.” Andy looked at Bec tentatively. “Help me stand up, please,” Bec said. “I don’t know, if you’re having an episode...” “It is not an episode! I tripped!” The guard arrived with the wheelchair. Deﬂated, Bec allowed two guards to hold her arms and help her into the chair. She walked cautiously, her steps ﬂat and short. In the chair, she sank back and sighed

before looking up. Alaina and Bec caught each other’s gaze from thirty feet away. Bec burst into tears. Alaina’s heart lurched ahead of her, but her feet stayed rooted. One by one, the rest of the crowd circled around to the second side of the spacecraft, obscuring her view of Bec. By the time she convinced herself to walk in that direction, Bec and Weinbaum were gone. Outside the museum, Alaina sat on a black iron bench. The sky was pure blue, no clouds. Over and over, she saw Bec, crumpled on the ﬂoor, shufﬂing to the wheelchair, wiping tears from her face. “You ready, babe?” Steven had parked the orange convertible right in front of her.

“Yes.” She sank into the front seat, suddenly fatigued. As she buckled the seatbelt, her hand brushed across her stomach. She felt something changing in there. She could see the baby that she would hold next year — tiny like Bec, with the same sparkling blue eyes and a head full of fuzzy blonde hair. Alaina would cherish her child’s vulnerability and need for care. She’d build a nursery with pale green walls, books to read, and soft, warm blankets. She’d kiss her cheek, wipe the sleep from her eyes. She’d rub sweet-smelling lotion onto her belly and scoop her into her arms. She’d help her learn to walk, how to brake in roller skates. Every day, she’d hold her close and promise: I love you more than the planets and the stars. I’ll protect you. You’re safe. •

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BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY: SECOND PLACE

UNTITLED By John Mican

POETRY: THIRD PLACE

“ORTHOPRAXIC HYMN” By Jordan Hancock Where is God’s place in this millennium? Is He still in the sky looking down On the chaos He’s created, Or is He in each one of us? I hear a conﬁdent voice speaking now, Projecting all the way to the back pew. I‘m fairly certain it’s all in my head, But I could recount its words to you. If I wrote you out a Bible, Would you label it as heresy? Would you still believe in God If He chose to speak through me? I sell the keys that unseal padlocks, My mama raised me as a prophet. I’m standing high upon a soapbox, And I refuse to come down off it. I’m preaching from a pulpit, There’s really not a difference, Screaming orthodoxy’s bullshit; Goodwill’s our deliverance. Can you dig it, Can you dig it?

COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY: HONORABLE MENTION

UNTITLED By David Kelm

Practice is the spade That runs up our digits, Buys back our souls, Returns us our receipts, Frees us from our chains, And buries our beliefs; Can you dig it, Can you dig it, All the way to Heaven?

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

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COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY: THIRD PLACE

UNTITLED By Sean McInnis

SHORT FICTION: SECOND PLACE

LAGUNITAS, 4 A.M. By Tyler Bell THE LIGHTS of San Paulo were like an old memory, making the sky grey and cottony beyond the dunes. Pascual kept his eyes moving from the sand to the surf and back again, making sure his grandfather’s feet found steady purchase as they walked. The moon was high and thinly curved, but the pollution wasn’t so bad this far from the city, and the stars bathed everything in silver light. The ocean itself was black as a broken promise, marred here and there by faint white caps. “Thank you, thank you,” Abuelito murmured as Pascual set him down on the hard packed sand of the surf. Late summer heat had kept the ocean warm, and the ground itself was not so cold either. Back in San Paulo, at the hospital, they would be frantically searching the room and the grounds for Pascual and his obstinate grandfather. A man who smoked all throughout chemo, who had sneaked out of the hospital at every chance for dalliances with

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

the ladies from the nursing home. They didn’t know Abuelito had been Oskar Mario Sante once. They wouldn’t recognize the lean brown teenager from the posters and magazines, propping up a long board with one arm and sporting a grin big enough to spite the moon. Pascual pulled that same longboard down off the top of his dinted work truck now, feeling something like Joseph of Arimathea. He smiled and ran his palm over the fresh wax. Abuelito wouldn’t appreciate that reference much. He’d given up his faith long before Pascual was born. Abuelito’s staunch atheism had been something of a wall between he and Pascual’s father for years. Decades really. Pascual often thought his father’s faith was mostly bluster around Abuelito, bad blood left by a divorce that had rocked their family to the core long before Pascual was born. But that was all in the past now, as far into

yesterday as dinosaurs and the Inquisition. Now Abuelito was a collection of bones heaped into one of Pascual’s old wetsuits, his shoulders barely large enough to keep the collar straight on his neck. It wasn’t great, but it would do for tonight. “Look at this thing,” Abuelito said, pulling at the collar with his ﬁngers. “You remember I bought this for you?” “Yes, Abuelito,” Pascual said, smiling softly at the beam of soft blue light at the end of the ocean. Both men looked in that direction as they sat on the beach, the longboard jammed into the sand behind them. Somewhere out there was a brand new day, one that hadn’t reached them yet. The night would endure a little longer, at least. “I’ll catch my death of the cold if we stay out too long,” Abuelito said, softer now. “This thing’s so loose it’ll never work. You should have run it through the drier.”

“Would that have worked?” Pascual asked. “I dried a wetsuit in ’82,” Abuelito said, laughing. Something ugly rattled in his chest and he coughed and continued. “I got drunk with Horatio Rodriquez and Kimmy Johnson, the American girl who won in Hawaii that year. She dragged me into a hotel room and the next day I had to pack for Brazil, but my suit was still soaked.” He elbowed Pascual in the ribs, but gently. “I was a little soaked myself too, if you get my drift.” They both laughed, and Abuelito sighed. “I bribed a concierge to toss my suit in the drier and, you know, all that came out were two little pieces, like this.” He held his hands close together for emphasis. “I had to borrow a suit from, oh, I think it was Saul Curacao, but I won. I found Kimmy again too, and she was—” He coughed. “She—” This time the coughing doubled him over, Continued on page 13

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Lagunitas, 4 a.m. - Continued from page 12 so that Pascual had to pat him on the back to get him back to rights. “Oh, promise me you’ll never smoke, eh Pascuito?” he said, his face drawn. “Promise,” Pascual said. “Hah, okay,” Abuelito said, pushing himself to his feet. Pascual moved to help him and he raised a hand. “A priest who doesn’t smoke. What a world we’ve left for your generation.” He looked at the surf and nodded. “Let’s do this.” Pascual swam the longboard into the sea with Abuelito sitting on the front, hands gripping the rim near his hips. The old man wasn’t strong enough to paddle himself against the waves, though he pointed and commanded like a general from that seat. Pascual thought of himself as a child, sitting like this on Abuelito’s board. His father and mother were on the beach so far behind them, worried and excited and anxious and all but helpless if anything happened. But Abuelito took care of him, and that same day he’d stood on the board and ridden it right in to the shore. That wasn’t here, at Lagunitas. This was Abuelito’s secret spot, that he’d bought from a fishing family before Pascual was born so he could surf at night. When he sat beside Abuelito’s bed with his Bible, saying prayers the old man had little time or patience for, when the old man slept, he said only one word in his dreams. Not a woman’s name, or his, or any of their family members. Just the one word. Again and again. Lagunitas. Pascual looked around them as they made their first trip back into shore. The space was small and black in the night, though the water beneath them was still and deep between the waves. No coral down there to cut you, just soft sand and plenty of water for cushion. Dark, craggy rocks bordered the circular pool, itself as big as any commercial parking lot. And beyond the rocks, the sea. Forever and always. The sea. Strength flowed back into Abuelito as they tripped back and forth to the edge of the lagoon. At first, he rode on the front of the board with his legs crossed before him, then on his knees, and finally standing on shaking legs with his arms out to his sides. He pushed Pascual’s arm away when he reached forward to help him just in case he fell. It was a gentle touch, but it firm. “Never for this,” he said. “I will never need help for this.” Finally, Pascual floated at the edge of the lagoon while his grandfather rode the board in on his own, rocking back and forth over the soft waves and cutting the moonlit reflections into billions of tiny crescents. His shadow could have belonged to a younger, stronger man as it glided away from Pascual. He swam for the beach when his grandfather

didn’t return immediately, worried something had happened. He found the old man doubled up on the sand, coughing so harshly it sounded like his lungs were tearing. Pascual knelt down beside him and rested his hand on his back, remembering a time when he had been crushed by a wave. Abuelito had dragged him onto the beach and slapped the water out of his lungs. The old man raised a hand to let him know he was okay. “Did you see me?” he asked. “Ten years isn’t so long a time.” “No,” Pascual said. “No it isn’t.” They sat for a long time, the silence of the morning surf punctuated by the occasional cough. “Perhaps we should get back.” “Back,” Abuelito said. “Of course.” He turned his eyes to the horizon. “But I think one more before then. One last ride.” Pascual breathed deeply and met his grandfather’s eyes. They were cool and direct, the eyes of a younger man. The eyes of a man who’d never let himself know fear when he could help it. A ﬂawed, often godless man. The man who’d taught a young boy to surf. “Perhaps,” Pascual said. A tear fell down his cheek and he turned his face away so Abuelito wouldn’t see. But of course he did. “Perhaps we could come back tomorrow. They aren’t smart enough to keep us in that hospital, right?” “No,” Abuelito said, looking from his grandson to the ocean. “Never.” He stood and picked up the board. The wetsuit no longer looked so loose on his old shoulders. Perhaps it had always ﬁt. Early morning light was tricky that way. “A prayer,” Pascual said as his grandfather put his feet in the water. “Stay, for just a moment, and pray with me. Please. Before you go.” “Grandson,” he said, turning and smiling. “What do you think we’ve been doing?” He gave Pascual a thumbs up and turned to the horizon, where the sky had darkened to almost full black. The darkest moment before the coming dawn. “Look at that. The water’s perfect now, I think.” He turned back to Pascual one last time. “Goodbye, Father,” he said with a wink, walking into the waves. “Go with God, my son,” Pascual said. He prayed as his grandfather swam out into the lagoon, and then past the dark rocks at the edge of the calm water. And he wept as the shadow of the man stood on the board, catching an impossible wave that drew him further and further out to sea, toward that brilliant strip of gold dawn had made of the horizon. Where perhaps God waited, at that perfect union of sky and sea. •

2022

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SHORT FICTION: THIRD PLACE

BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY: THIRD PLACE

By Matt Dobson

By Wade Carter

DIVINE SELECTION DAMON stared at his dark reﬂection in the glass of the vending machine. “Okay, D.… you’ve fucked this up.” he thought to himself. “What are we going to do now?” “I’ll just leave. I’ll just start walking and keep walking and never look back.” “Okay, what’s the problem - what exactly did we do? How much trouble are we really in?” “What are our options?” What are you going to say to Chuck?” ********** Since the beginning of the semester Damon had been picking up his girlfriend, Angel, and driving her to school. Every morning he’d drive the half-mile from his house to hers, staying off the main road, then drive the three blocks from her house to the high school parking lot. If they timed it right they’d arrive early enough to get a parking spot by the tennis courts. He’d always back into the spot so as people showed up they could see the two of them sitting together in the front seat. They’d met in the summer. He’d just turned 16 and had a car that was going to be his when he got his license. To impress Angel, he’d taken her out for a few joy rides, and when school started, he couldn’t resist being seen with her in the parking lot. Each morning, he’d wait for his mom and his most recent stepdad, Chuck, to leave for work. His mom was an elementary teacher and Chuck worked ﬁrst shift at the appliance factory, so they left early. As soon as they were gone he’d head out and be careful to make it home before them and park in exactly the same spot.

Damon and Angel would sit in the car, drinking Mountain Dews, smoking Camel Lights, and listening to Damon’s collection of Heavy Metal tapes until it was time for class to start. They had followed this routine every day for 3 months. For 3 months it had been perfect. ********** Perfect until this morning. After picking up Angel, Damon’s 1987 White Ford Escort was rearended at the stop sign on her street. The impact smashed the hatch part of the hatchback, pushed the car into the intersection, rocked Damon and Angel hard against their seatbelts. Damon’s tape cases were in the back. The plastic crunch added to the sounds of the crash. Tapes went ﬂying. The next sound they heard was the driver of the car that hit them turning around and driving off. After asking each other repeatedly if they were okay they got out and walked around to the back. The car was probably totaled, but the accident wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Apparently, Ford had improved the rear-end of their hatchbacks since the days of exploding Pintos. The main casualty was Damon’s tape collection. There had been hundreds of tapes in the hatchback, organized alphabetically across three travel cases. Most of them were smashed and destroyed. Looking down they saw a Slayer tape, Divine Intervention, had landed undamaged, his ﬁrst thought was “Divine Intervention, that’s funny” and his second thought was “Oh shit, I still don’t have a license.” The irony of Divine Intervention surviving the impact was not lost on Damon. This could’ve been Continued on page 15

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UNTITLED

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POETRY: HONORABLE MENTION

ON EXECUTIVE DYSFUNCTION

COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY: HONORABLE MENTION

UNTITLED By Sean McInnis

By Kat Gillespie I. I call this making a dent: two boxes from the pile drift down the steps into the recycling bin for once there is something of comfort in a pathological fear when someone asks worst that could happen you already know and will know again as cardboard piles the corner in sly mocking tumble lean and shift, I’ve imagined every day something worse beneath it lurking grimy teeth clenched in crescent smile and I hope I’ll rot before it’s gone I hope I fall and ﬁnd my bones made of cardboard buckling II. Suds cresting to bubble before drying in cracks between the tile the baseboards and dips in static coursing through my brain in my skull on my shoulders on my body in the corner of the bathroom sinking and watching the soap become thick and tacky right in front of me but even though this rag is in my hand believe me I swear I’m somewhere else and nothing can be done today tell me how to scrub a ﬂoor like this one grimy under everything I’ve dropped collapsed under the weight of so just let me know which youtube hack best scrapes free these lingering memories

Devine Selection - Continued from page 14 a Paul on the road to Damascus moment for him, a sign from a higher power. But, he was more concerned with ﬁguring out just exactly how fucked he, Angel, and his car were. The cops had shown up quickly and helped them. They insisted that Angel’s mom take them straight to the hospital to get checked out. He’s assuming they are here now to get the rest of the accident report and ask for his license, which he doesn’t have, and his registration, which said the car belonged to Chuck. ********** Damon staring at a dark reﬂection of himself in the glass of a vending machine of the hospital waiting room. He sees himself, two black eyes, a neck brace, and, behind him, in the waiting room the two cops that responded to the accident with Angel’s worried mom, still waiting for Angel to be examined. So now Damon has to decide what he wants

out of the vending machine “Do I get a bag of Doritos or do I turn around, start walking and keep walking past these cops and nurses and get the fuck out of here?” Leaving with an injury, probably a concussion, might be a bad idea, but the impending interaction with step-dad-of-the-month deﬁnitely was. Chuck often reminded him, “You don’t fuck with Chuck.” Damon needed options. He could stay and talk to the cops. Let them know he didn’t have a license – then deal with that. He could lie and stall – maybe act disoriented – he had just been in a crash… He could try and leave – get past them somehow… He knows he isn’t going home. Something healthy… Mixed nuts… that’s real food right? Something salty… maybe pretzels…? Something sweet? Ho-Hos… Giant Cinnamon bun…? That’s more than 75¢. Staring at the machine, two universes split

— one salty, one sweet, one he stays, the other where he runs. The difference between pressing D7 or E5 means a wholly different trajectory, a fork in the road of life to a different set of possible futures. This is all garbage, he thought. There aren’t any good choices. It is going to be long night, no matter what I decide. He buys the cupcakes. It’s a two pack. He walks through the waiting room and sits across from Angel’s mom, offers her one of them, and says, after a pause, “…I don’t have a lot of options, I think I’m in trouble, and I’m going to need some help.” •

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POETRY: HONORABLE MENTION

By Kylee Hoelscher

OUR DELUSIONAL MARCH We trudged thirty-nine point three miles, a blister-footed, sometimes-bewildering march and all the while your hitchhiker was settling in, you the ungrateful host.

IS BACK! MARCH 26

We slurped strawberry yogurt from Yoplait lids, each one adding a meager coin to the pot, our miser’s purse strings stretched too thin from research into flaccid penises and wrinkled jowls. I read aloud that steamy bestseller while the healing poison dribbled down the tube into the arms of you and the others: the proud, the few, the sunken-breasted champions of the cause. We cut our hair in solidarity, but you alone chopped off your chest, the pillowy swells we’d longed for at thirteen that had given pleasure along with sustenance, now resembling a marked treasure map. We smoked weed in your living room, absolved from fear of prying mothers’ eyes; placed bets on the timeline of a cure if men lopped off cocks at the rate of one in four. You had courage and grace, they said in those final morphine-filled days, those moronic, meaning-finding, hangers on whom we couldn’t shed in the end. Yesterday I sat with your girls and wondered what legacy you had left them, your film noir smile and Jennifer Aniston hair or your one fatal flaw.

BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY: HONORABLE MENTION

PUSHING UP DAISIES By Frogg Corpse

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CARTOON: THIRD PLACE

KNIFE GAME By Frogg Corpse

“There is no doubt, BODYTRAFFIC puts its all into each performance with its incredible facility, cleverness and outstanding performers.” - LA Dance Chronicle -

FEBRUARY 26 • THE KENTUCKY CENTER KENTUCKYPERFORMINGARTS.ORG

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COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY: HONORABLE MENTION

SYSTEMIC

WHEN YOU’RE OLD (V)

By Tyler Bell

By Robert L. Penick You begin sewing the wings back onto butterflies, the ones that have not crawled so far into the past that grains of pollen are their only evidence. You find the survivors in forgotten places: On a cassette talk tape from 1996 or on a city bus passing in a downpour. Think of that first girlfriend, the fat kid in high school or some other victim along your warped, staggered pinball across the years. Thread needle. Prick thumb. Mend. Your work is neat, quiet, a restoration of flight, grace, and symmetry. Your hands are not nimble but you try to repair every leaf you’ve torn.

SHORT FICTION: HONORABLE MENTION

MEGAN By Robert L. Penick

HER mother does not want to be called Mom when they are in public. Nor Mother, Mommy, or any other parental term. She’s Brenda, the big sister, and is young, attractive, and drug-free, with all her options still open. Even at seven years old, Megan knows this is malarkey. Mom has the look of a meth user: Bad teeth, brittle hair, and eyes like the windows of an abandoned warehouse. Skin stretched too tightly across her face and the blurred tattoo climbing up her neck aren’t helping to make the sale, either. Megan loves her mother and can’t imagine a different life scenario.

POETRY: HONORABLE MENTION

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

They used to go to nice stores together: Macy’s, Dillard’s, Saks. There they’d roam the aisles, Megan scampering gleeful among the pretty clothes and colorful accessories. After getting cited twice for shoplifting cosmetics in a single week, Mom/ Brenda gave up on the high-dollar targets. Now they haunt the thrift stores, where they look like the other shoppers and the cashiers don’t care if you walk out with the entire inventory. The haul is less here, and you can’t resell a shirt from Dollar General on eBay, but they never hurt for toothbrushes and chewing gum.

Today the two of them are standing in front of an Olive Garden restaurant. Megan ﬁdgets, wanting to go inside or get back into the car. Mom/Brenda shushes her and scans every incoming vehicle. She has been dating a man she met on the internet and today’s the day he meets her little sister. He’s kind, somewhat naive, and pretends to believe her blurry tattoo is a birthmark. When his Volvo pulls in, mother and daughter wave. Megan pretends the car is an airplane that has spotted them on their desert isle. Uses both hands. They’re saved. •

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SHORT FICTION: HONORABLE MENTION

PRAYING WITH PASTOR DICK

THANK YOU FOR VOTING US BEST DISTILLERY

By David Goud “Do you know why I’m here Davy?’ “I have an idea, Pastor Dick. The holes?” “That is one reason, Davy. Your mother asked that I come over and talk to you about a few... things.” “Things? What... things?” “Okay. Let’s start with the holes.” “Okay. Sure. Pastor Dick. The holes? What do you want to know about ‘em?” “There are quite a few in your closet door there Davy.” “More like several dents, a few little holes, and one big hole in the middle.” “Well, Davy... did you do all that damage with your ﬁsts?” “The big hole? That was my foot. A jump back side kick actually.” “So you also kicked the door.” “Yep. The dents are from punches.” “Did you ever hurt your hands?” “Huh?” “Did you every hurt your hands Davy? From punching the door?” “Hmm.” “I said…” “I heard you Pastor Dick. It’s just that...my Mom never...she never asked me that. About my hands. She did tell me how expensive that door would be to replace and threatened to make me pay for it.” “Davy. I’m sure your Mother…” “I’m sure too Pastor Dick. So what do you want to know from me?” “I simply want to know why, Davy. Why do you

feel the need to punch and kick that door?” “Well, ‘cause, I simply...hate it here.” “Hate is a strong word Davy.” “It’s an even stronger feeling Pastor Dick.” “Okay. Okay Davy. What is it you hate?” “I hate this house, I hate where it is, I hate this neighborhood, I hate having to live here, my school.” “Have you prayed about it Davy?” “I used to.”

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“Davy. Your Mother has told me...a few things... about…” “About what?! Whatever she has told you?! It’s worse! She doesn’t...she won’t listen! She doesn’t know! You don’t...you can’t imagine what...it’s worse! She doesn’t know anything!” “Davy. Calm down Davy. Have you tried talking to your Mother about…” “Try?! TRY?! What kind of question...what do you think...that’s why you are here! Right?! She knows where we live! I have tried for years... YEARS! Years Pastor Dick! And when I try?! She just screams at me! SCREAMS! At me. No matter what happens to me, no matter how bad, I try...she won’t. She just always starts screaming at me about how my Dad left her and how he picked THIS house. How she is all alone and how hard HER life is! Even after...after...IT happened. We still didn’t move!” “Davy…” “She is not gonna move just to spite my Dad. You know what she told me? She said she is never gonna even change the mattress in her bedroom. What?! She is the one you need to talk to Pastor Dick. To PRAY with!” Continued on page 20 LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

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Praying With Pastor Dick - Continued from page 19 “Really. Huh. No Daisy or Farrah, but a Ninja and Bruce Lee are Christian. Got it.” “Easy Davy. Easy. You can relax your ﬁsts. Breathe. It’s okay. I’m here to listen. I know you “And your music Davy. We need to talk about miss your Father, and he isn’t here right now. I am your music.” your spiritual father Davy. You actually have two fathers.” “Music?! My music?! Wow Pastor Dick. A lot to pray about today. Wow.” “No. I...uh...don’t actually. I don’t need two. I have a Dad. I don’t need...I’m good.” “Your Mother is concerned…” “Okay Davy. Okay. So...you obviously punch “Concerned? I doubt it.” the door when you get angry at your Mother. Or when you get angry about…” “Davy. Your Mother has told me that you are listening to angry music.” “I get angry about, at, a lot of things Pastor Dick.” “What?! Angry music?! Ha! Interesting what she is concerned about. Angry music?” “Anger is a road to sin Davy.” “Well, then, all the roads in this neighborhood lead to sin. Would you live in this neighborhood Pastor Dick? I see you looking out the window now and then to check on your car. Would you move your family here?” “Well, Davy, I…” “Uh huh. I bet a lot of kids around here could use a spiritual father.” “I think we should pray about your anger Davy.” “Uh huh. I’m sure. What other things do I need to be talked to about? That we can pray about Pastor Dick?” “Well, Davy, those posters on your walls…” “That Ninja one? Or Bruce Lee?” “No Davy. The girlie posters.” “Ha! Girlie posters?! Ha! C’mon Pastor Dick. I know your whole family watches her show. That’s Daisy Duke!” “Well, yes Davy. We do watch her show. But that picture. That pose. In those shorts. It’s not... Christian. Not Christ like.” “And I suppose that Farrah Fawcett poster over there isn’t Christian either?” “Uh, no Davy. It’s not. Especially that one.” “But how ‘bout Bruce Lee and the Ninja?” “Those two are ﬁne Davy.”

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

“What are those cassettes on your desk Davy?” “Some Van Halen, a Billy Idol, Bon Jovi and a Miles Davis.” “Hardly Christian music Davy.” “But hardly angry music Pastor Dick. Have you ever even seen David Lee Roth? He is the complete opposite of angry. I doubt he will go down in history as the voice of evil.” “You should try listening to Country Music Davy.” “Country Music is Christ like?” “It’s less angry Davy.” “You listen to a lot of Country Music at your house. Don’t you Pastor Dick? Michelle, your daughter, she likes Country Music.” “I believe she does.” “When is she due? Is it next month? You know we are the same age?” “Uh...yes...Davy. And…” “...and Pastor Lyre’s daughter? She’s pregnant too now. She’s a year younger than us. She loves Country Music. A lot. Is there anything else I need talking to about? Or does that about cover it?” “Before I go Davy, I would like to pray with you. About your anger.” “Well, Pastor Dick, I guess that is the very least you can do.” •

BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY: HONORABLE MENTION

UNTITLED By Sean McInnis

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

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BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY: HONORABLE MENTION

UNTITLED

PLYWOOD METH HEAD JESUS

By Sean McInnis

POETRY: HONORABLE MENTION

By Robert L. Penick Plywood Jesus is still praying in the front yard next to the Live and Learn Thrift Store. The Virgin Mary next to him seems reconciled to whatever the world throws at her, whatever vicissitudes get served up as the main course of life’s bloody banquet. Jesus, on the other hand, is earnest, aware, and worried. The grain of the wood makes it appear his face has broken out. Stress will do that, as well as methamphetamine and an unhealthy diet. Perhaps one day he’ll get out of that yard, kick that habit or lay off the fatty foods. He’s had a tough life and deserves some quality time. Jesus Christ, give yourself a break.

COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY: HONORABLE MENTION

UNTITLED By Ted Heitzman

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COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY: HONORABLE MENTION

POETRY: HONORABLE MENTION

MONA LISA THE PERSEVERANCE WALKS FINE LINE By Frogg Corpse By Todd Walker

For what our eyes and ears seek for pleasure; for what our hands mindfully admire; for what our deepest yearning in our simplest of thoughts cries out for - it is our soul that must be touched to feel true joy. The air was still and everything went silent as she breezed by my shoulder. It was as if she had walked off of the canvas and breathed life again. Mine. Whispers hit my mind like the strokes of the great painter’s brush. Beauty is never still, it never sleeps and when caught it never dies - forever it is in that moment. I was too intoxicated to enjoy my drink for more than habit in hand. My heart was yelling, while my eyes prodded it on. My smile, too proud for words to escape. I had not the right mind nor feeling of self to attempt a bridge. Her hand tossed her hair back like waves to the beach - lightly falling and returning. Magniﬁcent in its simplicity. Pictures say so much and reveal so little truth. Paintings show a life and all its secrets - hidden and wanting. In the moment - irreplaceable. Time and place seem to be so incompatible that I let a moment end. No, “Excuse me...”, “Do you have the year?”, “Do you validate parking?” Just sighs and the same. Always the same. But better for walks by my window, than never a step takes.

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

STAFF PICKS THURSDAY, FEB. 24

Belushi Acoustically And So�tly Plays To Your Cats The Flamingo Lounge | 119 S. Seventh St. | Search Facebook | Free | 8-8:20 p.m. Belushi Speed Ball, the local thrash metal rockers known for their wild costume-andspecial-effects-filled concerts, are CATS toning it down for one night. This time, they’re playing a free 20-minute-max acoustic show just for cats. (Any humans in attendance must be 21 and up, but cats of all ages are welcome.) Nothing more to it. It’s literally a quiet concert for cats, without “catnip or typical Belushi messes.” All cats must be in a cat carrier. Frontman Vinny Castellano’s beloved cat Stella will be part of the audience — it’d be odd if she weren’t, given that the band released a two-disc album named after her last year. —Carolyn Brown

SATURDAY, FEB. 26

Oneus

Old Forester’s Paristown Hall | 724 Brent St. | Search Ticketmaster $60-$120 | 7 p.m. Korean boy band, Oneus, is making a stop in Louisville. They are the first Korean boy band to have a show in Louisville. The band will be supporting their new Blood Moon K-POP album. Korean pop and culture is enjoying high popularity in the United States with the success of other K-pop groups like BTS and Blackpink but also due to the popularity of Korean dramas like “Squid Game.” So, needless to say, local fans of K-pop are quite excited about getting to see one of the boy bands from South Korea in their hometown.— Erica Rucker

Don’t miss Stella’s cute face at the show. | PHOTO BY VINNY CASTELLANO

SATURDAY, FEB. 26

Trap Brunch

Riot Cafe | 574 S. Fourth St. | Search Facebook | $20 | 11 a.m.-3 p.m. This is not your basic bitch brunch; this is trap brunch. And the menu calls for beats from Prettee Jae the DJ, food from Chef B and mimosas from Creative Cocktail CreBEATS ations by Dawnsheika. —LEO

SATURDAY, FEB. 26

Kumbakonam: Remarkable Stories from a Remarkable Temple Town

Ursuline Arts Center | 3113 Lexington Road | Search Eventbrite | $8 | 4-6 p.m. Created by Guru Vandana Arts Academy founder, Guru Smt. Akila Iyer, and with new music by Sri Ragunandan Ramakrishna and Guru Smt. Pusthakam Ramaa, this new DANCE dance/ballet will feature dancers from the Guru Vandana Arts Academy. This performance will feature Bharathanatyam (Indian Classical dance). If you are a fan or student of dance — with so many choreorgraphers choosing movements from around the world — this should be a wonderful and culturally-enriching experience. —Erica Rucker

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

STAFF PICKS

16TH A N NUAL THOM AS MERTON BLACK HISTORY MON TH LECTURE

SATURDAY, FEB. 26

Mardi Gras Party with Hot Sauce Brass Band

Uncovering a Hidden Wholeness: The Essence of Unity & Thomas Merton’s Hope for the Human Race

The Living Room Series | 422 W. Oak St. | Search Facebook | $18-$20 | 8 p.m. Led by trumpeter Joe Thieman and saxophonist Drew Miller, the Hot Sauce Brass Band is a “second line party band” inspired by the traditional and contemporary music PARTY that emerged from New Orleans. This event, which takes place a few days before Mardi Gras, will have a buffet-style meal featuring New Orleans-inspired dishes, included with the cover charge. The event is also BYOB. —Scott Recker

by Sophfronia Scott February 22, 2022 • 7 p.m. Bellarmine University, Frazier Hall Free & Open to the Public Socially-distanced; Masks Required Sophfronia Scott began her career as an award-winning magazine journalist for Time. Her first novel, All I Need to Get By, was nominated for best new author at the African American Literary Awards. She is the author of Unforgivable Love, Love’s Long Line, This Child of Faith: Raising a Spiritual Child in a Secular World, and The Seeker and the Monk: Everyday Conversations with Thomas Merton. (Broadleaf Books, 2021) She is the founding director of the MFA in Creative Writing program at Alma College in Michigan.

Learn more: 502.272.8177 / 8187 www.merton.org

Black History Month Lecture Leo 1-8 page_2022.indd 1/31/221 12:08 PM

SUNDAY, FEB. 27

‘Malcolm X’ On The 4-Story Screen

fashion forward without spending a fortune shopsassyfoxconsign.com

New Hours Tue–Fri 11–5 pm Sat 10–4 pm

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

502.895.3711 150 Chenoweth Ln

Kentucky Science Center | 727 W. Main St. | kysciencecenter.org/movies | $5 for members, $10 for nonmembers | 1-4 p.m. Come experience Denzel Washington embody one of the greatest leaders of the Civil Rights era. Director Spike Lee explored this cultural icon through this CIVIL RIGHTS biopic detailing Malcolm X’s life including his rise from rock bottom to Islam and leading a movement to his assassination. The film runs 202 minutes, so do a few stretches before you go. It’s a marathon but worth it. —Erica Rucker

UPCOMING EVENTS Thursday, February 24, 2022 7:30 PM - 9:00 PM EST

Thursday Comedy Showcase

Friday, February 25, 2022 6:30 PM - 9:30 PM EST

Healing With Louisville

Aloft Louisville Downtown

Saturday, February 26, 2022 7:30 PM - 11:30 PM EST

The Walnut Street Revue 2022

Friday, March 11, 2022 7:30 PM - 8:45 PM EST

Kentucky Center for African American Heritage

March 30-April 16, 2022; Wednesdays through Saturdays at 7:30PM; Saturday and Sunday matinees at 2:00PM

HENRY VI: THE WARS OF THE ROSES Kentucky Shakespeare Headquarters

Cacao Ceremony

Jessica Tanselle: Becoming a Medium The Bard’s Town

Saturday, April 16, 2022 7:00 PM - 11:59 PM EDT

KMAC Couture 2022 KMAC Museum

May 20, 2022 at 1:00 PM EDT May 22, 2022 at 11:00 PM EDT

Poorcastle Festival 2022 Breslin Park

REDPINTIX.COM

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

STAFF PICKS

THROUGH MARCH 6

THROUGH MARCH 12

Revelry Boutique + Gallery | 742 E. Market St. | revelrygallery.com | Free

WheelHouse Art | 2650 Frankfort Ave. | wheelhouse.art | Free

‘A Journey Of Elegance’ By Sheila Fox

Sheila Fox is having a moment. She was one of the artists featured in LEO’s Feb. 2, 2022 Arts and Entertainment issue and is currently showing at Revelry for the first ELEGANCE time. The mixed-media painter specializes in portraying Black women throughout history, with an emphasis on culture and fashion. With a love of vintage costume jewelry (a woman after my own heart), she occasionally includes fabric, feathers and jewelry in her work. “My hope is that the majority of the viewers feel enriched, beautiful and classy,” said Fox. “I want them to recognize themselves within my art and embrace the ultimate radiance of timeless modern fashion. When I’m done creating and painting the face, my favorite things to do are style the hair and add the accessories. I feel that I’m the personal stylist for each piece I create.” —Jo Anne Triplett

‘Why Do Anything’ By John Paul Kesling Cross-country road trips can bring out the best ARTS or worst in people. Painter John Paul Kesling was one of the lucky ones. After weeks in a 2003 Honda Element micro-camper (!), he returned from a trip he took last year with a renewed perspective on life. This show features his new series of paintings inspired by the American landscape and the questions Kesling asked himself as he traveled. He has bought some of that beauty and wonder he witnessed to his canvases, portraying what he saw as well as what he felt. —Jo Anne Triplett

‘Apache - Sitgreaves National Forest’ by John Paul Kesling. Acrylic and mixed media on canvas.

THROUGH APRIL 9

‘Penny Sisto at 80’

Carnegie Center for Art & History | 201 E. Spring St., New Albany | carnegiecenter. org | Free

‘Around Da Way Gurl’ by Sheila Fox. Acrylic, oil pastel, feathers and jewelry on canvas.

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

When discussing local art quilts, the conversation quickly turns to Penny QUILTED Sisto. She’s been a fixture for decades (she just turned 80 years old), so longevity is on her side. As is productivity; she makes up to 200 quilts a year. But that wouldn’t matter if creativity, talent and quality were not present in her work. This exhibition is the eighth show Sisto has had at the Carnegie. The nearly 30 works feature familiar subjects — women, children and spiritual figures. What is absent is a theme (in the past, she has created series on racism, AIDS and the Vietnam War). Or perhaps the theme is COVID-19. “In a year of isolation from the touch, sound and smell of my beloved fam‘Little Angel’ by Penny Sisto. Mixed textiles. ily and friends,” said Sisto, “the familiar touch and smell of the fabrics was soothing. Now … I feel only gratitude. Gratitude and a faith in putting one foot in front of the other, one stitch in front of another, even into infinity.” The exhibition includes screenings of “Woman of the Cloth,” a documentary about Sisto by Ben Newkirk. —Jo Anne Triplett

ETC.

35 40 45

71 76

82 86

103

109

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106

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117 Only’s partner 118 Ward workers, for short 119 Term of endearment

L A S E S

S G C O A T D T O N T O O E R

A L B E R T A N O N S T A R

A N T E U P

N A R C O S

Y E A S T Y

E S L K L Y

D O O R B U S T E R D E A L

P T S D

G U I S E

S E E P

E M M A

66 TV’s Cousin ____ 69 Pam’s former partner on ‘‘The Office’’ 70 When you’re about as smart as a fifth grader 71 Aware of 72 Some beers 73 This Hebrew letter: 77 90° bend 78 Kind of blue akin to cerulean 80 Concerns for a homeowners’ association 82 Bonobo, e.g. 83 Banh mi toppings 85 Not a ‘‘no no’’ 87 Hooked 88 Regular intake 92 Some beers 93 Cattle call 94 Strip 95 Wash. neighbor 97 It’s good, in a saying 99 Netflix crime drama starring Pedro Pascal 100 Take a pot shot? 101 Like the smell of rising dough 103 Bare 104 Ice-cream container 106 Course standard 107 Tours can be found on it 108 Website with star ratings 109 ____ mia (Italian term of endearment) 111 ‘‘____ all be fine’’ 115 Wash. neighbor 116 Stick on a table?

101

107

113

L O I R E

115

100

102

85 91

S U N D A E

75 81

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

E R A S E R

58 63

M C C A B E

F A A S R H

26 29

L A M E D

A L E S

108

A R B B O E O W N T S K A S T A R E A H I N G N E E N D I R I T A C H T H I P E P D A T I T I O E E D T S A P A O M P R N D E E S T

55 57 59 60 61 63 64

Y T E O P S S A T G O E T A E D N D I C T E D

17 18 24 25 30 32 33 34 36 37 40 42 43 44 45 46 48 49 50 51

I T L L

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

D I S R O B E

Down Andrew who became the acting F.B.I. director after James Comey was fired It gets the lead out A good dessert to split? Having made up one’s mind about Outback sight Stingray or Barracuda, e.g. Taylor of fashion U.S. poet laureate with a 1987 Pulitzer ‘‘The BFG’’ author Disperse ‘‘Heaven forbid!’’ Blood-typing letters Word that can come before or after home Lloyd ____, Dukakis’s veep pick in 1988 Amenity in G.M. vehicles Prop ax used in ‘‘The Shining,’’ a valuable collectors’ item, $200! Actress and gender equality activist Watson Trickle ‘‘____ but a scratch’’: Monty Python As well Set up Back Pin point? ‘‘A Clockwork Orange’’ narrator Actress Madeline of ‘‘Blazing Saddles’’ Horror director Aster Started again, as ‘‘99 Bottles of Beer’’ False front Get off one’s high horse? Libertines ‘‘Sure is’’ Target with a pass Concern for veterans, for short Not even close Incense residue Wallet, in good condition, plenty of card slots, $5! Person from Calgary or Edmonton Brave’s opponent in the 2021 World Series Removes, as a tattoo Stretch of time Special-interest, e.g. Fruit detritus Like a wailing cat

A R D N I A N T H A L A D L O R E V E X E S A P I N I N G T H E A S A P I T E S I N T A U C K B U E E D

Across 1 Evidence of disorderly conduct? 5 Animated greetings 11 Threads 15 Some words of Wordsworth 19 Mötley ____ 20 Fiend 21 Instrument with a solo in Seal’s ‘‘Kiss From a Rose’’ 22 ‘‘There’s no place like ____’’ (Alaskan’s quip) 23 TV, volume knob broken, only $10! 26 A bit 27 ‘‘Me too’’ 28 Food Network host Brown 29 Sandal variety 31 Barbecue side dish 35 Tried one’s hand 38 Before, once 39 In large supply 41 What may cover some ground 43 Baseball mitt, has a small hole, just $1! 47 Casual greeting 49 Model featured on many romance novel covers 52 Split personalities? 53 Stretch of time 54 Wipe out 56 ‘‘Predictably ... ’’ 58 Much of Italy’s north 60 What the universe may or may not be 62 Huey, Dewey and Louie, e.g. 63 ____ colada 65 She can act as a D.J., nowadays 67 Raised 68 Guitar, never used, $15! 72 Baseball’s Matty or Felipe 74 After-tax investment account, informally 75 Award achievement for Audrey Hepburn and Andrew Lloyd Webber 76 Ones coming on board 79 Classic mower brand 81 Loosen 83 Raiser of team spirit 84 Ready for a refill, say 85 Sucker 86 ‘‘Voilà!’’ 89 Running figure 90 Nautilus’s locale 91 Textbook, a few pages torn out, $2! 96 Extremely energetic people 98 ‘‘Ain’t that the truth!’’ 99 Or rather 102 Least enjoyable parts 105 Super wrong identification?

S E C E M A T T U R O I N S A L G A D R O P I O E S U A L M E S O S T R U R O N B O Y T Y L I M N A M O O W P O N S O E R O W T R S S E

No. 1212

B U Y N O W P A Y L A T E R

BY JEFF KREMER | EDITED BY WILL SHORTZ

C A R A

GARAGE-SALE PITCHES

108 Words that might elicit the response ‘‘Prove it!’’ 110 Goldfinger’s first name 112 Blood line 113 Final check? 114 Two fish tanks, accessories included, $5! 120 Started a turn, perhaps 121 Like a tautology, by its nature 122 Name for zinc sulfide that is one letter short of a kitchen appliance 123 Demolish 124 Ingots 125 Source 126 Heir to the throne, as a rule 127 Catch a glimpse of

I M D B

The New York Times Magazine Crossword

ETC. CLASSIFIED LISTINGS

PUBLIC NOTICE

LEGAL PUBLIC NOTICE: Cellco Partnership and its controlled affiliates doing business as Verizon Wireless (Verizon Wireless) proposes to build a 35.0-foot metal light pole. The Site location is 1957 H (Half) Gardiner Lane, Louisville, KY 40205 Lat: [38-1232.6591], Long: [-85-40-44.9671]. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) Antenna Structure Registration (ASR, Form 854) filing number is A1208594. ENVIRONMENTAL EFFECTS – Interested persons may review the application (www.fcc.gov/asr/applications) by entering the filing number. Environmental concerns may be raised by filing a Request for Environmental Review (www.fcc. gov/asr/environmentalrequest) and online filings are strongly encouraged. The mailing address to file a paper copy is: FCC Requests for Environmental Review, Attn: Ramon Williams, 445 12th Street SW, Washington, DC 20554. PUBLIC NOTICE: Cellco Partnership and its controlled affiliates doing business as Verizon Wireless (Verizon Wireless) proposes to build a 35-foot public light communications structure. Anticipated lighting application is none. The Site location is 2120 H Gladstone Avenue, Louisville, Jefferson County, KY 40205, Lat: 38-13-1.314, Long: -85-40-51.4818. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) Antenna Structure Registration (ASR, Form 854) filing number is A1208578. ENVIRONMENTAL EFFECTS – Interested persons may review the application (www.fcc.gov/asr/applications) by entering the filing number. Environmental concerns may be raised by filing a Request for Environmental Review (www.fcc. gov/asr/environmentalrequest) and online filings are strongly encouraged. The mailing address to file a paper copy is: FCC Requests for Environmental Review, Attn: Ramon Williams, 445 12th Street SW, Washington, DC 20554. PUBLIC NOTICE: Cellco Partnership and its controlled affiliates doing business as Verizon Wireless (Verizon Wireless) proposes to build a 39-foot Public Lighting Communications Structure. The Site location is 3010 Whiteway Ave, Louisville, Jefferson, KY, 40205, Lat: 38-12-42.59, Long: -85-40-43.59. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) Antenna Structure Registration (ASR, Form 854) filing number is A1208591. ENVIRONMENTAL EFFECTS – Interested persons may review the application (www.fcc.gov/asr/applications) by entering the filing number. Environmental concerns may be raised by filing a Request for Environmental Review (www.fcc. gov/asr/environmentalrequest) and online filings are strongly encouraged. The mailing address to file a paper copy is: FCC Requests for Environmental Review, Attn: Ramon Williams, 445 12 th Street SW, Washington, DC 20554. HISTORIC PROPERTIES EFFECTS – Public comments regarding potential effects on historic properties may be submitted within 30 days from the date of this publication to: Trileaf Corp, Jennifer, j.lewishobgood@trileaf.com, 1515 Des Peres Road, Suite 200, St. Louis, MO 63131, 314-997-6111. PUBLIC NOTICE: Cellco Partnership and its controlled affiliates doing business as Verizon Wireless (Verizon Wireless) proposes to build a 38.5 Wooden Utility Pole Communications Structure. The Site location is 2124 Gardiner Lane, Louisville, Jefferson, KY, 40205, Lat: 38-12-42.59, Long: -85-40-25.17. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) Antenna Structure Registration (ASR, Form 854) filing number is A1208582.

NOTICE OF PUBLIC AUCTION TO OWNERS OF THE WITHIN DESCRIBED ESTATE AND ALL INTERESTED PARTIES: FLAGSHIP COMMUNITIES / BARRINGTON POINTE. Will expose at sale to the highest Bidder on MARCH 17, 2022 @ 10am. Location of the sale will be 1321 Glengarry Drive Fairdale, KY 40118. Mobile home only, 2015 Tru MH Ali. VIN: CW030086TN. Located at 1537 Glengarry Drive Fairdale, KY 40118.

Notice is hereby given by B's Bodyshop (Bernie Botos), 6812 Rock Forest Dr, Louisville, KY 40219, 502.356.3656 to obtain title to 2016 Chevy Equinox, VIN# 2GNALBEK8G6148441, Owner: DRESHAWN MARKESSE BRAXTON, 2114 Magazine St, Louisville, KY 40211. The owner has 14 days to respond in writing after the last publication of legal notice.

1. Leo’s Towing & Recovery, LLC at 510 E. Broadway, Louisville, KY 40202 with phone number of 502-643-4570 has intention of obtaining title to a beige in color 1999 Toyota 4Runner bearing VIN#JT3GN86R6X0099183 registered in the name of Sekia Cynthia Gray, last known address 5 Westside Ct., North Vernon, IN 47265. Lienholder: None. Owner or lienholder has 14 days after last publication of this notice to object. Objections must be sent in writing to the above address.

2. Leo’s Towing & Recovery, LLC at 510 E. Broadway, Louisville, KY 40202 with phone number of 502-643-4570 has intention of obtaining title to a red in color 1992 Ford Mustang bearing VIN#1FACP42E7NF111230 registered in the name of Ronald Simpson, last known address 733 Cecil Ave., Louisville, KY 40211. Lienholder: None. Owner or lienholder has 14 days after last publication of this notice to object. Objections must be sent in writing to the above address.

3. Leo’s Towing & Recovery, LLC at 510 E. Broadway, Louisville, KY 40202 with phone number of 502-643-4570 has intention of obtaining title to a white in color 2008 Chevrolet Equinox bearing VIN#42CNDL33FX86058433 registered in the name of Pamela Armstrong, last known address 1501 W. Chestnut St., Louisville, KY 40203. Lienholder: None. Owner or lienholder has 14 days after last publication of this notice to object. Objections must be sent in writing to the above address.

Pursuant to KRS 376.480, the following abandoned mobile home located at 7112 Green Oak Drive, Lot 97, in Green Acres Mobile Home Community, Louisville, Kentucky shall be sold by Green Acres via sealed bid on Friday, February 18, 2022 at 10:15 AM to recover rent, storage and legal fees incurred by the owners of said mobile home. The sealed bids will be accepted at 5616 Green Acres Drive, Louisville, KY 40258. Title to the mobile home is not warranted, subject to prior liens and all sales are final. Seller reserves the right to bid. Terms of sale cash only. Endrew Stone Samantha Stone Unknown Heirs or Beneficiaries Unknown Owner(s) or Creditor(s) Year: 1986 Make: Liberty Model: Liberty VIN: Unknown Located at 7112 Green Oak Drive, Lot 97, in Green Acres Mobile Home Community

2002 Dodge Ram 150 Owner CHARLES SMITH VIN# 1FTEF15N65LCO0428 DIAGNOSTIC & Storage 5400. Contact & Sale, Rick's Collision and Paint 502 553-8664 or 502 494-2262. 5210 Cane Run Road, Louisville Ky 40216.

Owner T Hobbs 2002 Dodge Ram 1500 VIN# 3d7ha18n12g203859 Diagnostics & Storage 3610. Contact & Sales Rick's COLLISION AND PAINT 5210 Cane Run Rd, LOUISVILLE Ky 40216. 502-553-8664 or 502-494-2262.

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

CAPTAIN’S COMMAND AT BLUEBEARD’S ) BEACH CLUB OWNERS’ ASSOCIATION, INC. ) Case No. ST – 2021 – CV – 00260 ) Plaintiff, ) ACTION FOR DEBT ) FORECLOSURE OF vs. ) LIEN AND BREACH OF ) CONTRACT RONALD E. MCKIERNAN and JOYCE A. ) MCKIERNAN, ) ) Defendants. ) ______________________________________) SUMMONS To:

Joyce A. McKiernan 3408 Bryan Way Louisville, KY 402201

Within the time limited by law (see note below) you are hereby required to appear before this Court and answer to a complaint filed against you in this action and in case of your failure to appear or answer, judgment by default will be taken against you as demanded in the Complaint, for DEBT, FORECLOSURE OF LIEN AND BREACH OF CONTRACT.

ENVIRONMENTAL EFFECTS – Interested persons may review the application (www.fcc.gov/asr/applications) by entering the filing number. Environmental concerns may be raised by filing a Request for Environmental Review (www.fcc. gov/asr/environmentalrequest) and online filings are strongly encouraged. The mailing address to file a paper copy is: FCC Requests for Environmental Review, Attn: Ramon Williams, 445 12 th Street SW, Washington, DC 20554. HISTORIC PROPERTIES EFFECTS – Public comments regarding potential effects on historic properties may be submitted within 30 days from the date of this publication to: Trileaf Corp, Trileaf Corp, Jennifer, j.lewishobgood@trileaf.com, 1515 Des Peres Road, Suite 200, St. Louis, MO 63131, 314-997-6111.

IN THE SUPERIOR COURT OF THE VIRGIN ISLANDS DIVISION OF ST. THOMAS AND ST. JOHN

PURSUANT TO COURT ORDER FOR SERVICE BY PUBLICATION ENTERED BY HON. JUDGE RENEE GUMBS CARTY ON DECEMBER 17, 2021. Witness my hand and the Seal of this Court this 28th day of December, 2021. TAMARA CHARLES Clerk of the Court Richard H. Dollison, Esq. V.I. Bar No. 502 Attorney for Plaintiff,

By: Donna Donovan Deputy Clerk

Law Offices of Richard H. Dollison, P.C. 5143 Palm Passage, Ste. B28/29 P.O. Box 6135 St. Thomas, U.S.V.I. 00804 NOTE: This defendant, if served personally, is required to file his/her answer or other defenses with the Clerk of this Court, and to serve a copy thereof upon the plaintiff’s attorney within twenty one (21) days after service of this summons, excluding the date of service. The defendant, if served by publication or by personal service outside of the jurisdiction, is required to file his/ her answer or other defense with the Clerk of this Court within thirty (30) days after the completion of the period of publication or personal service outside of the jurisdiction, and to serve a copy thereof upon the attorney for the plaintiff, and in the case of any form of mailing requiring a signed receipt, within 30 days from the date of receipt as indicated by the signed receipt.

PRESENTED BY LOUISVILLE TOURISM

JOIN US IN EXPERIENCING CUISINE THAT DELIGHTS THE PALATE AND DEFINES THE ART OF DINING IN LOUISVILLE!

FEBRUARY 21-27 LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022

tailspin ale fest louisville’s winter warmer

[

the captain has

]

turned on the beer drinking sign

250+ craft beers at bowman field

LEOWEEKLY.COM // FEBRUARY 16, 2022