Sunday, February 26, 2017

A Hockey Day in Johnstown

"You do that, you go to the box, you know. Two minutes, by yourself, you know and you feel shame, you know. And then you get free." - Dennis Lemieux, Slap Shot 

When Slap Shot debuted in 1977, it is hard to imagine anyone anticipating the film to be so revered by the hockey community, the Johnstown community, or any other community. On Saturday, Tomahawks forward Joshua Norman scored the game-winning, shootout goal in the Slap Shot 40th Anniversary game at the Cambria County War Memorial. Norman, born in 1998, was not even on earth for the 20th anniversary of the movie. 

Sitting with my wife in that arena, I witnessed why Slap Shot and minor league hockey itself has endured, here in Johnstown and across the globe. It is simply a beautiful mess. The Tomahawks and Wilkes-Barre /Scranton Knights played the game as it should be played. Chippy at times. Silly and sloppy at others. There was an ejection and a blood trail. The blood and ejection had nothing to do with each other. The announcer was way too loud. While the game was being played, a large group of people sang Happy Birthday to a 60-year old woman. The Hanson Brothers roamed around. A grown man berated a referee, calling him "candy ass". Children went in and out of our row as if it was an exercise routine. 

All in all, it was a fun 65 minutes of hockey hoopla that led to the shootout. 

When Norman scored that game winner, the War Memorial was a mix of joy, delirium, and relief. I was happy to attend. Happy it was over and over in victory. Slowly walking back to the car, my wife wobbled as if she had suffered a lower body injury in overtime. We laughed at this pregnant procession to the Subaru.

We picked up our daughter, attended a 1-year old's birthday party, went to church, and crashed on the couch. As the Penguins took the ice for the outdoor game against the Flyers, I was fading fast. 

I was free to fall asleep in the 2nd period. 

Johnstown proud. No shame. 








Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Cheers, Copernicus

On February 19, 1473, Nicolaus Copernicus was born. His astronomical claim to fame is that he theorized that the sun was the center of the universe. For one night each year, Copernicus is the center of attention inside Johnstown's Boulevard Grill. It is a silly and spectacular tradition.

This past Saturday was Copernicus Day at the BLVD. For years, my wife and I have celebrated Poland's shining scientific star at one of our favorite places to eat. The BLVD menu is Poland inspired featuring a Polish platter, Polish soup, and Polish libations. I started with the soup and my wife went to town on the platter.  Red and white were visible across the restaurant; colors of pride for the Polack.

Lost in the Polish sea was the BLVD owner. Dressed in shirt and tie and sporting a Poland cap, he looked like an executive for a Polish baseball team. Good for the man in charge of this small business. Don might own the restaurant, but Copernicus owns the night.

Train Stop 6, a local musical duo, provide the entertainment year after year for this holiday. At this Copernicus celebration, they added a special guest performer to their Polish package. A high school talent, Jacob has been playing the accordion all across Johnstown for years. When I first met Jacob, the accordion appeared to be bigger than him, but even back then, he played a fierce accordion. I've heard him play in backyards, festivals, golf tournaments, and now for Copernicus. After his set, Jacob moved on to hustling people in pool. He is much bigger than the accordion now.

There was a lot of clapping, cheering, and general noise making long after Jacob exited the stage. Train Stop 6 urged the crowd to embrace their inner-Polish, no matter their ancestry. The maternal side of my family comes from strong Polish roots, so it was an easy embrace; however, after that soup, I ordered a burger and fries. After all, I am an American.

Cheers to Copernicus. Mark your calendars for February 2018.





Monday, February 20, 2017

Under the Sun

My parents live on the same Old Westmont street where I lived out my childhood. My next door neighbor growing up was Eleanor. On this President's Day, she was laid to rest.

Eleanor was not just my friendly neighbor. She was my bonus grandma.  Her home was Indiana Street's safe haven where kids sipped on lemonade and parents enjoyed an evening coffee. Her backyard was a baseball diamond for dozens of boys and girls for going on two decades. In college, my friends and I drifted back to Eleanor's baseball oasis. Not ready to grow up, we blasted tennis balls into the summer sun and across the street.

When my mom told me she had passed away, memories of that Johnstown childhood flooded back. Eleanor moved away from her Indiana Street home years prior, but her legacy lives on. Many of her neighbors paid their respects this weekend. It was story after story of the nice neighbor who helped make a street become a family.

Building a family of my own today, I realize how important it is to be a good neighbor. There are so many people from my Indiana Street era that made my childhood a positivity building block. At Eleanor's service, a familiar Corinthians scripture was read. As I listened, it was a passage that I associated with weddings, not goodbyes. But Eleanor, a proud Johnstown resident, was all about love and inviting people in. It was not a goodbye reading. It was an eternal hello.

And after all the years of running in her backyard, I don't know if Eleanor and I ever saw a sun scorched February day like this one. As I stood on that cemetery ground, dozens of kids could be heard in the distance, attacking a playground with childhood abandonment. I smiled. It was perfect.

My daughter did not get a chance to meet Eleanor, but I've got stories to tell. The positivity blocks continue to be built.








Downtown Hope in Action

Last spring, the owners of Flood City Cafe organized a Clinton Street clean up initiative. Dozens of volunteers joined together to make a difference. While it was only a few short hours of work, I got a lot out of the experience. Planting trees was exercise. Meeting fellow volunteers connected me to community members. After playing in the dirt, I ate lunch at Flood City with a kid I used to coach in junior high basketball. He was a kid no longer. We talked about fatherhood and raising kids in Johnstown.

I still have my volunteer T-shirt from that day, courtesy of the cafe. It reads, "The Bravest Thing is Always Hope."

Flash forward to this February. My wife and I are eating lunch once more at Flood City. A news reporter is filming, supposedly getting some shots for an upcoming story on the small business. I talk to one of my basketball coaches from my junior high days. One of the cafe's owners talks to my wife and I about all the good that is going on. Across the street, Escape Rooms Johnstown is the latest downtown draw and the latest initiative from the Flood City Cafe entrepreneurs. My wife proudly points out she and some friends just escaped. Without needing a history report, I proudly write that my wife is one of the most pregnant women ever to escape that Johnstown room.

Another Flood City sandwich in and I thought back to the Clinton Street clean up. Nothing I did on the street that day was brave in my book. Planting trees was no walk in the park, but volunteering was not something I believed was brave. Bravery, to me, starts with a small idea and has the potential to lead to something much greater. When thinking about bravery, I immediately think of life-changing risk.

Small business owners downtown are taking risks. Downtown Johnstown is alive.

Since beginning this blog in October 2016, I have tried my best to capture my positive experiences in Johnstown. After doing a history report of my own, I realized how much of that blogged experience has been downtown - crossing the finish line at Morley's Run, the Central Park Christmas Tree, holiday parades, the Tomahawks' support of veterans, a breakfast at The Atrium to honor veterans, music at the Holiday Inn, Flood City Cafe, and PRESS Bistro, dinner at Gallina's, a massage at The Vault, and an inspirational training in the Central Park complex.

I have yet to be locked in the Johnstown Escape Room. I am going to let my second daughter escape the womb before I give it a shot. Johnstown residents, give Downtown a shot.

If the bravest thing is to hope, the laziest thing is to label something "dead". Go out and live. There is good food to eat, good music to hear, and most importantly, good people to meet.

A volunteer T-shirt was a brave, small idea.







Friday, February 10, 2017

Lyrical Lessons

"Shine in our hearts"

On the first Sunday of each month, Saint Michael's parish in Brownstown has a 9:30 A.M. mass. Saint Michael himself was a leader and revered as a defender in battle. Fittingly, this Johnstown parish has fought to stay in existence. A small army of faithful attend the weekly Saturday evening mass and the once-a-month Sunday service.

At the February Sunday mass, I defended against my two-year-old and sang the familiar hymn, Christ Be Our Light. As I sang and played defense, the phrase "shine in our hearts" beamed in my brain. I have lived most of my life in Johnstown and have been surrounded by good people. This four-word phrase captures a spiritual hope and on this morning, a communal rejoicing. It is a great hymn, but what elevates its greatness is the group singing together.

"We remember what we heard"

In fatherhood, I have rationalized many a time to stop at Mill House Cafe to get a coffee on the way to work. I could use the energy boost. It is cold. I am a new Dad. I have to drive 30 minutes to work. I deserve it. After I pick one of those reasons, a man named Dan fills a cup with joe and o'er the mountain I go.

After months of coffee conversation, I did not know much about Dan. On Tuesday night, Dan stepped out from behind the coffee bar and picked up a guitar. My wife and I joined a handful of others and listened to Dan go from latte maker to lyric writer. He crafts his own music and is inspired by his faith. My pregnant wife sunk deep into the Mill House red couch. One song in she decided she was going to get all three of Dan's CDs. She sipped on a dessert almond tea. She is in the third trimester. She gets whatever she wants.

I had no idea what Dan was going to sing. His message and music were a pleasant surprise. This Sunday we will listen to him play once more as Mill House launches a new concept - Sunday morning music and fellowship. "We remember what we heard" was one of Dan's lyrics. Simple and profound. I am grateful for all the people who have been a part of my life. You never know the impact you are going to have on someone else. I'll be at Mill House this Sunday for much more than the coffee.

Faith. Music. Johnstown.

Soon, I'll have one more daughter to defend against at Saint Michael's. One more reason to get that Mill House coffee. One more reason to be thankful.






Friday, February 3, 2017

Keep the Key

Every year, thousands of people gather in Punxstawney for a forecasting rodent. Groundhog Day just might be the most hopeful holiday of them all. 

On my way to work this Groundhog Day, I listened to the radio alert live from Gobbler's Knob.  Like many Americans, I hoped that Phil did not see his shadow. He saw his shadow. The groundhog disappoints once more. 

While ultimately this ridiculous ritual means nothing, it made me think about the more meaningful. Days before the weather woodchuck emerged, I was sitting in a training at the Cambria County Central Park Complex. Inside that room, over thirty people spent 6 hours discussing the recovery process.  No groundhog needed. 

In today's times, the news often begins with the drug problem - death, trafficking, burglary, child neglect, and on, and on, and on, Drug recovery is news too. The stories are almost always harder to find. Instead of sensational, these stories are inspirational. The drug problem is extensive and front page material. The drug solution, often miscalculated as easy, is being talked about more and more. Inside that training room, I was encouraged by a group of people trying to make a difference - young and old; male and female; in recovery and not in recovery; established professionals in the field and those learning how to help. 

I hope the days of "Just Say No" and "Lock the door, throw away the key" are over. If that was the game plan, my 6 hour training could have been shortened to 6 seconds. This Monday discussion gave me a lot of insight, but the impact did not really sink in until Punxstawney Phil was on stage. If we are going to have hope in the hog, let's stay hopeful for our neighbors, family members, and friends who have a drug problem - a community health problem. 

And, in the Positive Johnstown spirit, I'd like to rethink the idea of the "second chance". Addiction is a disease of the brain. The "second chance" is something wired into many of our brains; we've learned through culture, classroom, and experience. Your life is your chance. In the recovery process, it is not about counting chances or creating limits. If you counted every time Phil has saw his shadow as a step backwards, he would have had 103 relapses. No one is giving up on the groundhog. 

Be helpful. Be hopeful. Say "Yes" to community initiatives that are solution focused. Unlock the door and your mind. As always, be positive.

Keep the key.