Songs of the Season

If December was a single sound it would be the combination of a dribbling basketball, referee whistle for a jump ball, a trumpet blare, a slide trombone honk, a soprano note, an alto note, a Dad snore, and of course, the peaceful call of a partridge in a pear tree.

With our daughters in the heat of band, choir, and basketball, it is a survivalist countdown to Christmas. Music, as it so often does this time of year, allows for reflection, hearty anticipation, or a healthy escape. The madness we create in calendars, bright lights, and elf migration can be countered by just the right notes at just the right time. 

Without further ado, my favorite songs of this December:

Manchild   Sabrina Carpenter

Didn't see this coming, did you?  Well, you must not live in a house with all women. Far from a traditional hymn, this song hit my airwaves this month and then I did what any traditionalist would do, I looked up the music video on Youtube. It features desert hitchhiking, explosions, an orca, questioning masculine intelligence, bubble bath pigs, and a cowboy chicken. It is four minutes of What The Frosty!?! 

If you happened to drive up our street on one December eve, you could see four humans dancing to the beat, singing high-pitch Manchild and having some sort of epiphany. 

One of the best ways to tackle December debauchery - dance it off by the refrigerator. 

On That Holy Mountain   Joe Mattingly

As members of the Bishop McCort elementary chorale, my daughters sang at the Advent of Christmas Concert. Held every year at St. John Gualbert Cathedral downtown, an adult choir combines with angelic children to create harmonious Christmas spirit. My wife and I got to enjoy this performance after climbing the mountain that is 5th and 6th grade basketball - back-to-back games in an afternoon slugfest. My eldest daughter, to her credit, transformed from scrappy baller to sweet soprano. My youngest, her basketball season over, sang from the front row as an inspired alto. She almost fouled out in one November baseketball game. In December, she melts hearts. 

This song was my favorite piece as it combined the adults, kids, and Mother Nature. "There shall be peace, led by all the children", a monumental line as we climb the mountain that is parenting. Proud of my girls for their gusto and years of praise singing. Grateful to the chorale director for her passion, humor, and Christmas crazed baton leadership. She is fierce and fantastic and fits right in with the kitchen dancing delirium that is our family. 

Silent Night   Joseph Mohr

Before the Advent spectacular concert, my girls performed at their school's Christmas concert earlier in the week, combining talents with the high school students. While there was a lot of highlights and standout performances, a 7-year-old piano player stole the show. His Silent Night quieted one and all. A statement song of calm and radiant beams performed by a brave and resilent young boy. 

This song has stood the test of time. 

And there is always a place for kids standing tall in the face of adversity. 

Days Like These  Luke Combs 

I will be the first to admit, I detest some of the December gauntlet. The hoopla can be a headache and I sometimes feel jarred in the crammed celebrations. Then, I have to take a step back and stop being a silly Manchild running around with cowboy chickens in the December desert. One of country music's top acts has brought me back down from Fa La La La Land with this simple tune. Luke sings of blue skies and the promise of green grass. Of being together and enjoying all of the trees, not just that one symbolic evergreen. 

And as we get closer to Christmas, I will appreciate days like these. Days when my kids are playing hoops and instruments, singing songs, and excited by what is to come. Days when peace on Earth seems like a longshot, but one sensational Silent Night might just get us there. 

To one and all, 

Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Gobble, Gobble, Gratitude

Here is hoping for a whole lot of goodness this Thanksgiving to Christmas season, but beyond the turkey celebrations and surge toward Santa, I will reflect on greatness. Like a pumped up pilgrim or enthused elf, I announce it is available to everyone...

I present to you...

The Great Outdoors! (Plymouth Rock pilgrim fist bumps, North Pole elf cheers)

The following November experiences all have one thing in common and it is being outside. Sounds simple and maybe it is, but there is emerging scientific evidence that there is something profound about stepping out into the elements, no matter who you are or what the elements are - just getting out there is the benefit.  A quote from a book I recently read on environmental neuroscience captured it all for this 41-year-old, young at heart, adventure brain:

"Children do not run through walls when there are no walls."  

At the beginning of the month, I had the luxury of going on a field trip where walls were not an option. This was due to the "government shutdown", a ludicrious two-word term our nation has in its absurdist back pocket. Due to this factor, our field trip had no access to buildings at the Flight 93 National Memorial, which turned out to be a blessing. I had been to Flight 93 twice before and this third trek was all on foot, all outside. Flanked by my fellow Bold Crossfit gym members, we blazed the trails and felt the sun and wind on a crisp autumn morning. The surrounding nature serving as a serene dedication to what happened on that field. To walk with friends and appreciate the fresh air, imagining what a group of people endured in their final moments in the sky. To hear the Tower of Voices wind chimes and realize that each morning could and should start with gratitude. To exercise and watch the autumn breeze meet a colorful collection of tree leaves...

And then there is the downtown Johnstown Christmas tree and its artifical evergreen majesty, relocated this season to Peoples Natural Gas Park. Light up Night is propelled by that towering tree but I will make my case for the night. Each year our family attends this event, and you could argue the PNG spot of 2025 was even more magical than centered in Central Park, but no matter where they stick that tree, you need the night. The Light Up phenomenon needs moon and stars. It needs imaginative kids looking up and wondering how Santa does it. Imaginations can only go so high when there is a ceiling. 

The end of this year's Christmas parade signaled for a believing mob to move as a herd. I felt like a concert going caribou trying to get as close as possible to the countdown. The bright lights came on, the herd rejoiced, and hundreds, if not thousands, walked the winter wonderland. And from Plymouth Rock to the North Pole, humans are inclined to form a community and to celebrate together. 

Thanks to all those volunteers for make the Johnstown Light Up Night and Christmas season what it is. If you keep the tree outside, the spirit will be strong. 

Strength is often associated with the physical, but the mental game is often what holds the true power. This year's edition of the Stackhouse Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving morning had a forecast that some humans would label anywhere from not ideal to torturous. 24 hours before race day, the temperature would drop about 25 degrees and the wind would howl like wolves scaring away all the turkeys. Rain had the potential to make the gobble, gobble trails into a googly moogly mud maze. As a board member and dedicated Stackhouse servant, I was raking starting line leaves to serve my fellow countrymen and countrywomen, but this act was more a selfish rouse and effort to stay warm. If I am good at anything, it is forest trickery. 

The 2-mile trot was well attended and the weather held up, meaning that all a fun run in wilderness need is for Earth to still exist. If you embrace "there is no such thing as bad weather", you prosper. Thanks to all the trailblazers on Thanksgiving morning, those dressed as turkeys, bundled up too much, and the nutjobs who wore shorts. We need each and every one of you blazing the trails, from the youngest competitor to the oldest athlete unwilling to retire his or her running shoes.

Show up. Lace up. Mind over weather. 

This November, my daughters got in our first sled ride of the season and three days later I was riding my bike through the Staple Bend Tunnel; I've run across the bridge above the Stonycreek River, taking a deep breathe and appreciation of the view; I've went on solitude hikes in Stackhouse to clear my head and count my blessings. My gratitude list grows as more miles are logged playing, walking, hiking, biking, and running. 

As we move toward December, kick it into gratitude gear. Believe in Santa, your community, and yourself. 

Whether you feel great, good, or somewhere farther south, think about stepping outside. That is the only way Santa gets to his sleigh. 

Happy Holidays, Johnstown. 

Halloween 2025

This Halloween, my family dressed as the following characters:

8-year-old: Phineas

10-year-old: Ferb

Mom: Candice 

Dad: Perry the Platypus 

If you have never watched Phineas and Ferb, it is a Disney Channel revelation of a cartoon. Two brothers - Phineas and Ferb - come up with backyard ideas that their sister, Candice, finds anywhere from suspicious to revolting. She continuously attempts to warn her oblivious parents of the cockamamie schemes of her younger brothers. Meanwhile, a crime fighting platypus named Perry is fighting off Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, an evil purist of the skies. The madman versus semiaquatic mammal storyline interlocks with the sibling showdown each and every episode.

In short, it fits our family.  

As our girls have gotten older, our Halloween exploits have evolved or revolved. We have reprised costumes from years gone by for the nostalgia or comfort. I first was Perry the Platypus during the pandemic. I actually wore a Perry onesie to a farm in Virginia in 2020. There is no better illustration of how messed up Covid was than the picture of me as an out-of-state public Perry, masked, with parrots landing on my head. The birds believed I was one of them. I was disheleved and also believed I was semi-aquatic, semi-parrot, or going insane. 

5 years later, I decided a Perry trucker hat with matching T-shirt was a more socially acceptable way to parade around town as a 41-year-old. I still have the Perry onesie yet only plan to wear it outside of Pennsylvania during a Round 2, mid-life crisis.

Before any of this Halloween's tomfoolery, our family took our 10th weekend getaway to Creekside Resort, a Bedford County hidden gem in the metropolis of Clearville. Beginning in October of 2015, our family of four has done some glamping in cabins named Lily Pad, Beaver Lodge, and Turkey Roost out in the middle of nowhere. It has become our safe haven for a haunting good time in all seasons, but mostly in autumn when the leaves are changing and the hiking trail is surrounded by roaming wildlife. I have watched my girls grow up at Creekside and I will now pause to cry.

(Pause)

This year my parents occupied a cabin and so did my brother and his family. We roamed like the wildlife. We soaked in the glory of Mother Nature, family, and good health from frosty sunrises to fireside stargazing. I even organized a kickball game in apex heat on Saturday that I greatly enjoyed despite my brother getting the winning RBI and sealing my loss. Prior to this hit, both my nieces walked off the field due to their lack of enjoyment. And I may or may not have tossed my eldest daughter out of the game for foul remarks to her younger sister. 

Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with family kickball.

On the Sunday we exited Creekside, our Subaru Ascent descended into Accident, Maryland. My daughters and I were excited to return to the Cove Run Farm Corn Maze. My wife was not excited as she associates corn mazes with getting lost and/or movie murders. I assured her that this is real life and small children routinely enter and exit the corn maze without the threat of abandoment or death. 

Prior to our maze escape this year, we ate lunch at Brewery and The Beast, a delicious play on words brewhouse. I ate a scrumptious smoked pulled pork sandwich. An hour later, after surviving the corn maze as a family unit, I spent quality alone time petting two pigs at Cove Run Farm. You bet your pork belly I thought about the irony and the table to farm experience I was having.

While I was in my pig confessional, my girls were feeding cows. My wife was not feeding cows. She was in deep, deep reflection on how this was not the life she wanted to live and she will never ever feed a cow. The Terrifier for her is The Farm. I reminded her how happy the girls were to be back and how I would be a terrible, terrifying farmer. 

We returned to our homeland safe and sound. Thanks, Cove Run. At least 3 of us will be back next year!

On Trick-or-Treat night, darkness fell as we walked the streets of Westmont and then Brownstown. Hundreds of community members were handing out candy or in pursuit of it. The wind would occasionally howl. A child would occassionally scream. One of my good friends, a 1st grader, would punch me after every candy he received. This has nothing to do with celebrating the holiday or his analysis of the candy. It is my fault - I have made myself an open invitation for rough housing so the sidewalk jabs and hooks to the spine are of my own doing. If you are a concerned community member and saw a youthful Sonic the Hedgehog fighting a grown man Perry the Platypus, I sincerely Do Not apologize. 

24 hours after the Trick-or-Treat, our family scattered all the candy on the living room floor. We did some inventory. I claimed the three Almond Joys. My 8-year-old tried to make a claim for a Joy but this was not a democratic process. She did not put up much a fight as she was in a sea of Skittles. We decided that many of the treats will be shipped to the military to get soldiers sugared up. 

Support the troops. Save parents. America. 

As I retire another Perry costume after another fun Halloween season, I take inventory of what matters most - we continue to count candy and our blessings together...continue to explore, gather, and laugh with gratitude for what we have...continue to be community driven and humor powered. 

"CURSE YOU PERRY THE PLATYPUS!!!!!!!!"  - Dr. Doofenshmirtz

 

Autumnal Intelligence

My wife and I recently finished the movie, The Martian. Yes, it came out in 2015 and it felt like we started the film 10 years ago. We actually heard the Netfilix intro thud at the beginning of this month, but finishing a home movie as a parent can feel like landing on Mars. The movie features Matt Damon stranded on the Red Planet for a God foresaken long time and in October 2025, featured two parents trying to operate an earthly home, stay awake past 9:15 PM, and lead two daughters to a bright tomorrow. 

Mission accomplished. (staying awake past 9:15PM was not accomplished multiple times yet we finished the motion picture). 

But, by no means was it easy - for us or Matt Damon - life can be quite challenging no matter what planet you are on. The Martian is full of scientific survival - astrophysics and all the mumbo jumbo that makes space travel and the magic of the movies a real thing. Prior to this entertainment expedition, I watched Conan O'Brien accept the Mark Twain Award For Humor. Conan spoke to what Twain has offered his readers over the generations as I wondered what Twain would think of the intellectual / not so intellectual world we are inhabiting today. How would the man who once used the phrase "mental kaleidoscope" react to artificially intelligent written words?

I have to believe Twain would be concerned for the sake of creativity. And as a fellow and less accomplished writer, my blog hope pitch (Chat-bhp) is that words will continue to be creatively generated by humans. Granted I am not using an ink well right now, but by golly, this is me (and then my wife posts on Facebook because I refuse to have Facebook). 

I certainly have put up limits to my social connectivity and I accept the consequences. I do not like Apps or online shopping. I use one App (for my gym) and I have to try shoes on before I buy shoes to wear to the gym - repeatedly try on. Then, I leave the store, come back a week later, and try the same shoes on again to refeel the feel. This is at a place known as a shopping mall. 

Also...

Hellno to Venmo. My Instagram is walking in the woods. I get instant gratification from trees and not knowing what other people are doing with their lives. Squirrels and chipmunks over Snapchat and Tiktok, all day, every day. Nothing against anyone who use these platforms - have at it. The world is your oyster - just stand on those platforms with some positivity - that's my secondary pitch - post and publish to congratulate and connect.  

The Martian is all about getting one man back home. It takes a lot of technology to get him back to Planet Earth (10-year late spoiler) but technology alone could not get it done. It took compassion, creativity, and grit. Nothing to artifically sweeten that deal. Just people thinking, talking, and working together for a common goal. 

Of course, The Martian is Hollywood and I am typing this in Johnstown. But no matter wherever you are, I encourage you to spread positivity in your own words, use technology to uplift, and consider aborting technologically driven message missions that criticize or divide. Dialogue on division is so prevalent because of the volume and all the ways it is amplified. In order to turn up the positivity, clear the fluff and nonsense stuff in your mental kaleidoscope.

As I finished this blog, my 8-year-old approached me and showed me how close her tooth was to falling out. She had a bloody napkin in hand. 

A new mission is upon us. 

Cheers to creativity, working together, and being a part of something bigger. 

I hate blood. 

Climb On

On the second Saturday of this September, my family participated in a Stair Climb challenge. The challenge, held @ First Summit Arena @ Cambria County War Memorial, was in remembrance of all the first responders who lost their lives on September 11, 2001. 

To generations of humans, when "9/11" is heard, it automatically resonates as an event, not a day. In the 24 years since the televised scene of the Twin Towers falling down, time and technology have worked together to try to capture the profound impact of "9/11" to a generation that was not on Earth in 2001 or too young to remember. The capture is in audio recordings, documentaries, and movies; in heartbreaking interviews and in heartpounding creations - the memorial and museum in NYC; the Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville. The appreciation primarily comes in the form of observation and reflection. 

The Stair Climb offered appreciation through exercise - an interactive and active way to never forget. 

Bold Athletics, the Crossfit gym I joined in December 2024, hosted the Stair Climb. Ten months ago, I did not realize how that membership would evolve into a fitness family, full of colorful characters and language, community engagement, and a united camaraderie in whatever workout is written on the whiteboard that day. My wife joined in February. My daughters have participated as Bold Kids and as Crossfit cheerleaders from winter to fall. The next generation. 

The Bold experience has been motivating, humbling, fun, hillarious, and at times, painful (during one workout, my attempt to do a final rep of toes-to-bar resulted in ass-to-floor). I recovered from that 41-year-old folly and had no thoughts of falling down the War Memorial steps this past Saturday. 

Ok, maybe a thought. But, it was less about me and more about the domino effect that it may cause. Luckily, first responders were on scene. 

When we arrived at the arena shortly after sunrise, the red, white, and blue started to burst, a community canvas of Crossfit and connection. There were familiar faces, a small army of Bold members, combined with firefighters, EMS, neighbors, and television crews. The hockey ice provided a cooling effect before close to 100 humans went on a 2,000+ steps journey. And in that journey, it is amazing how much heat and hope can be generated by people doing something together. 

It was an invigorating visual boosted by music and then silent reflection - at 9:03 AM, when the first tower was struck. At 9:37 AM, when the Pentagon was hit. At 9:59 AM, when a plane crashed into the second tower. At 10:02 AM, when Flight 93 crashed on a Somerset County field. 

And after every pause, we kept climbing. For every completed climbed lap around the arena, there were more burning calves and cheering climbers. At some point, a Ric Flair WOOOO revolution ignited. During this professional wrestler phenomenon, I looked down at my climbing tag. I was climbing for Paul J. Pansini, a firefighter out of Engine #10. He looked like a guy who had a sense of humor. 

I am not exactly sure why I picked Paul. Every participant had the honor of selecting a photographed climb tag of a person who paid the ultimate sacrifice trying to save others on 9/11. At some point during the WOOOs, I saw my wife stair climbing. Saw my daughters across the arena. I took a heartfelt second to look down at a smiling Paul and unleashed an emotion-packed WOOO. 

When I got home, I learned more about Paul. According to the National Fallen Firefighters Foundation, "on his off time, he was always with his wife and children, they went everywhere together. He loved fishing and hiking. He was also a very comical person and always had a smile." Paul was a lot like me. 

Those words were written by his wife. 

I am going to hang on to my Paul J. Pansini climb tag. I think we would have been friends if we ever crossed paths. I bet he would have had a hearty laugh watching me fall to the Crossfit floor after an incomplete toes-to-bar. He will continue to cross my mind as I try to be the best Girl Dad I can be. 

Thanks to Bold Athletics for organizing this event and giving my family an opportunity to be together to support a great cause. Thanks to the firefighters, police officers, and all the first responders who serve. There were no greater fist bumps on this Saturday then those given to firemen carrying 80 pounds of gear up-and-down War Memorial steps. Attitude of gratitude for those who show up, protect, and pave the way. 

And the biggest thanks goes to Paul J. Pansini, Firefighter, Engine 10. 

The best way to honor those we have lost...

Climb on. 

Shrek The Musical Top 10

On the first Wednesday of August, my family and I traveled to Cresson Lake Playhouse to experience Shrek. Since his debut on the big screen in 2001, Shrek has been reimagined and has endured in the patheon of lovable bruts. Featured below is my Top 10 from the outstanding cast of characters who brought Shrek to musical life this summer.

#10 $1 Popcorn

If I have ever stepped foot in the Cresson Lake Playhouse before, I cannot remember doing so. Upon arrival, I was impressed by this historic house of theatrics. I had a back pocket, back row seat perfect for a Girl Dad who wants to stretch out as much as possible. Also, if I would fall asleep, wooden frames directly to my right would prevent whiplash. And I did not anticipate being bored to slumber, I am just programmed at this point in my life to get sleepy around 8:45 PM (8:30 PM) (8:25 PM) no matter where I am or what I am doing. I do admit that my head was like a fishing bobber after intermission yet that should not dismay the cast and crew. Much like Shrek, I am a creature of habit. 

And all creatures must enjoy popcorn at a playhouse. Especially when it is being sold for four quarters. In a land of tariffs, price hikes, and tip options for every conceivable purchase or experience, it is nice to know there are still woodland playhouses selling $1 popcorn.

That's a fairy tale in and of itself. 

#9 Gingerbread Man 

The scene stealer of all scene stealers this night was the Gingerbread Man. Played by a female with such conviction, I could be convinced she was born a cookie. Her hostage scene was comparable to Anne Hathaway's performance in Les Miserables. We all dream big dreams. Sometimes though you just don't want to be eaten alive by a merciless, miniscule lord. 

#8 Farquaad's Faces

That lord was Farquaad and that actor's facial expressions were pompous perfection. He consistently looked deformed in the face and acted deranged in the brain. His minions would repeat his name throughout the musical in a committed, comical chant. He scored big laughs from the crowd and rightfully so. 

Also, rightfully so, he did not get the girl. (spoiler, Farquaad face)

#7 Peter Man 

When Peter Pan came on stage for the first time, I was immediately struck by his beard and cave dweller appearance. I let it go (like Elsa), knowing that actors are probably hard to find and once found, you cannot force them to shave. Then many acts later, a mid-scene joke was told about Peter living in his parent's basement and never growing up.

Well played. Well played. 

#6 Liars

I bought 3 no-bakes preshow and initially announced I would share them. With my wife or my daughters or the 3 little pigs. 

In a dark playhouse, in the darkest corner, I ate all 3 before intermission.

Cheers, Pinocchio. 

I'm a real boy.

#5 Musical Farts

Boys and girls can appreciate farting to music. It is not ogre. It is deeply, deeply human. Before the triangle and the tambourine, there was the fart. Shrek and Fiona did what all fine actors do - they challenged their inner child and pretended to pass gas into the audience to song. 

Heartwarming.

Buttwarming.

#4 Fire Breathing Dragon 

Another standout voice came from a red, murderous, flying beast. The girl who played the fire breathing dragon had an incredible voice. She was a scary good, fire breather. The costume design across the board was top knotch yet the dragon was a particularly creative creation. And while that female role did not breathe literal fire, her singing music scaled high on the chops thermometer.

Well done, dragon. 

Voice of fire. 

#3 Other Dads

At the playhouse, the seating is split by the stage so I had a Dad's eye-view of what I could ensure were the other Dads on the opposite side. During the performance, I could easily pick out the other head bobbers and concession stand invaders. We all share the same facial expressions, driving responsibilities, and sleep patterns. It was as if a spotlight shined on these men and proclaimed...

"You are not alone and you will be driving home in the dark."

#2 Let Your Freak Flag Fly

This number was the anthem of all Shrek anthems. The battle cry for all the misunderstood and misguided fairy tale characters. This performance, by a small army of iconic characters, was a trumpet blast to embracing who you are and where you have come from. 

And that's a lesson every adult, child, ogre, and gingerbread man should live by...

Be you. 

#1 To the Cast of Characters

In November of 2024, my oldest daughter had a role in a local rendition of Fiddler on the Roof. Many of her cast mates from that Imperial Russia setting made their way to Duloc and a Kingdom Far, Far Away. The guy who played Shrek was her father in Fiddler. The actor who shared the stage with her at UPJ was now Donkey...and kicked some acting a** like a playhouse Eddie Murphy. 

Throughout the night, I fought of falling asleep by going down memory lane. From Fiddler, to Shrek, to every on stage opportunity my girls have experienced, a gratitude flag flies for all the local talent who have given us something to cheer for. 

My girls fell asleep on the car ride home. I did not have that luxury. I was dutiful rather than envious. My sleep would come soon enough. 

And when your kids are growing up fast and it is hard to slow things down, a playhouse performance might just be the place to go. 

Sweet dreams, Johnstown. 

Don't be a Farquaad. 

Midsummer Awards

No one really knows when it is the middle of summer. Culture, calendar, and heat are the essential ingredients in the summer blender. Some dog days go sun-baked, basset hound slow only then to immediately question, "Where did summer go?"  The 2025 campaign has had some scorchers and monsoons, some glory and some guff. Would you want an endless summer without air conditioning? The summer breeze might make you feel fine, but how do you feel when the humidity reaches super sticky and your home is a melting madhouse?

Without further ado, the Midsummer Awards. 

Best Picture 

Most award shows end with this category. Luckily, this is a blog and I present to you Superman. As parents, we have reached the PG-13 plateau. I can look my 10-year-old and 8-year-old daughters in the eyes and ask them, "Can you handle comic book violence and the word sh** for two hours and maintain your innocence?"  Without hesitation, they gave a unified, Clark Kent confirmation. My wife also attended. She gave unneeded confirmation and sat Subaru shotgun en route to the theatre. 

Going into this movie experience, I was not a big Superman guy. I gravitate to superheroes who have an animalistic approach - Wolverine, Spiderman, Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb is a phenomenal show). With that said, two thumbs, or claws, or hooves up for Superman. Intense action sequences led to Superman saving the day. 

That is not a spoiler. That is what he does. 

Get over it. 

Best Ensemble 

This award goes to athlete superheroes representing animals - the Johnstown Mill Rats. Since their debut season, our family has been a part of the Rat Pack. My girls are frequent participants in the on-field shenanigans. From the Fruit By the Foot, No Hands eating contest to Tug-O-War to catching frisbees in a pizza box, they've showcased their skills on the turf alongside collegian ball players. 

Those players have the Rats in position to host a playoff game next Friday. And beyond the players, there is a small army of people who get a Prospect League Team on the field to provide a fun, summertime experience. Caps off to one and all. Special shoutout to the July 3rd pre-fireworks promo video production team. The Mill Rats recreated a classic scene from the 1993 film The Sandlot and it was outstanding. 

Looking forward to more fireworks on 8/1. 

LET'S GO RATS!

Best Actress

While this blog usually focuses on hometown heroes and hoorahs, the winner in this category is from the Wild West. This June, our tribe visited Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana, saving Yellowstone National Park for the grand finale and it did not disappoint. This was primarily because a tour guide named Ash was a woman I would follow to the ends of the Earth. She was a kind, knowledgeable, fascinating human who led us on a 12-hour tour de force of our country's oldest national park. 

My daughters will have the memory of observing a cinnamon black bear sitting under a canopy of trees, only to be outdone by a black bear (no cinnamon on this beast), casually climbing the grassy knoll we stood upon. That is when Ash, like a war general, commanded everyone in a 1/4 mile radius to get in a vehicle or risk being lunch. And this happened hours before we ate lunch at a picnic table near Old Faithful. 

The Mother Nature majesty moments kept coming all day. From geyser greatness to a lone wolf crossing the road to bison herds in the triple digits, it was an incredible experience. But above all, I want my daughters to remember Ash. There was a moment where my girls stood beside her, watching geysers bubble and boil, creating the wildest of mists. All three of them were smiling into that sunburst mist and it was one of my favorite memories from our Westward Expansion Lampoon of 2025. 

Close second - my wife. (Sorry, honey. You know Ash was awesome). 

Best Actor

Me (golf clap).

So, I did not drive a single mile through Yellowstone. Probably would have drove us off a cliff. But, I did drive over 800 miles in a single day from Colorado Springs to Bozeman, Montana. 

Close second - Superman. 

Best Song 

How can I write about America's pasttime and Yellowstone and not award The National Anthem?  My girls sang the anthem at a Rats game early in the season only to sing it once more at a 27-hole golf contest on the 3rd Saturday in July. That contest is a summer tradition where some of my friends return to Johnstown and pretend to be from Europe (Team Europe). Those who live in Johnstown or somewhat close to Johnstown retain citizenship (Team USA). My daughters sing the anthem every year on the steps of Berkley Hills Golf Course in this Ryder Cup for the Ridiculous. 

And despite being a key contributor to Team USA losing every single year (since the inaugural Cup of 2023), hearing my girls sing is always a win. 

Best Bet

Depending on how you classify summer, we got one to two months left. Seize every last bit of it. Run those air conditioners as hard as the Rats on the base pads. Recognize that kindness just might be the greatest superhero trait you can have. When you hear the line, "gave proof through the night that our flag was still there", carry an attitude of gratitude from sunrise to sunset. Sing it out. 

On a daily basis this summer, I have been awarded. Enjoy more fun in the sun and summer life on the run. 

And if it rains, pour gratitude on. 

Cheers to community.