Me, You and the Zoo

Last Friday, our family made our first adventure to the Pittsburgh Zoo. One of the benefits of living in Johnstown is the range of day-trips a family can take. Our girls welcomed the jungle, especially our oldest ape. Wise like an owl and wild like a stallion, here is how she attacked the zoo in all its autumn glory.

• First day of autumn. Temperature will rise to 87 degrees. Her chameleon cheeks coincide with the rising temperature. By the peak of the heat, her face is fire truck red and her blonde hair is a swarm of sweat. 

• One of her first animal encounters is a face-to-face with a komodo dragon, a prehistoric looking lizard. Beast and child are both poised, separated by glass. Both use their tongues to intimidate. Dad tells child not to put tongue on glass as that is a yucky form of intimidation. 

• Upon the sight of a giraffe, everyone awes over the long-neck creature as he eats lunch. Everyone except her. She is looking directly down at fish in the stream as if giraffes eating grub is a common occurrence in Brownstown. "Look at these fish!", she exclaims. 

• We eat lunch at a cafe where giraffes and zebras are still in our line of vision. She eats a hot dog and animal crackers, a classic zoo meal. 

• Our zoo brigade heads to "The Island", the newest habitat in this ecosystem. An anteater patrols his paradise, presumably looking for ants. Father and daughter are shocked by the size of the anteater. Dad wants to take him home and suck up everything our family doesn't need. And of course, any ant home invaders. 

• Exiting "The Island", she is bound to crash. Bursting sun and emotions = drowsy. Gram offers ice cream. She is awake. She wants sprinkles. 

• She gets her sprinkled ice cream. Gram gets ice cream too. Gram does not get sprinkles. Our daughter is distraught over Gram not getting sprinkles. She questions the decision and states, "That makes me sad."

• The aquarium offers refuge from the heat. Swimming penguins delight her. She eventually has a conversation with a fish. "Sorry, I can't come swim with you. I don't have my swimsuit."

• Post-aquatic life, Dad and daughter climb a cargo net, a mildy dangerous exercise. We successfully complete the climb. Slides are the transportation back to our pride. They do not have a lot of zip to them. Zoo folks watch a 33-year-old man awkwardly descend. 

• In the playground, she wants to play "kitchen". She chooses a play area directly in the midday sun. While everyone rests and Mom feeds our smallest cub, Dad is at his daughter's uncomfortable restaurant. 

• After my imaginary meal, Dad and daughter do a monkey-inspired rope ascent. Once again, this leads to a slide, granting passage back to the mainland. After multiple up and downs, daughter complains of a burning butt. No one forced you to do this. 

• A cool mist is shooting out of a wall. The zookeepers must have seen our daughter's cheeks on the surveillance cameras. She runs through the mist as if it is the greatest thing that has ever happened in human history. Minutes later, she collides with a boy of her age. They both topple to the ground. It is now the worst thing that has ever happened in human history.

• I watch sea lions gracefully swim as my daughter tries to get it together. Her mother conducts a series of concussion tests. She is able to return to the zoo. 

• On the way out, we view a lynx. She is perplexed by this cat. Without a nap, threatening heat exhaustion, and surviving the "massacre at the mist", everything has become befuddling. 

• She sleeps in the car. Joy to the world. 

• When asked what her favorite animal was at the zoo, she declares, "the squids".

• There were no squids at the zoo.

• I love that girl.  

Indivisible

In the summer of 2009, my cousin - Cousin Steve - made a miraculous chip on the 18th hole to win a two-team scramble. The CSI - Cousin Steve Invitational - was born.

As summer turns to autumn, the CSI has become an annual and absurd event. Somewhere along the way, I initiated the Pledge of Allegiance into the pre-golf festivities. Mediocre to horrendous golfers gathered around and repeated after me. The tournament has grown and the outfits have gotten worse. If you drove by Royal Berkshire this past Saturday, you may have seen a catastrophic collection of colors and a Happy Gilmore group, hard hat and all.

When that first CSI was played, I was a single man and an inconsistent golfer. In my 9th attempt to declare victory in the monster I essentially created, I was a father of two and inconsistent as ever. I put on my Daffy Duck cap and let the good times and balls roll. Many family and friends have their name etched on the CSI trophy, the Lord Stanley of our silly, silly tradition. When I turned our scorecard in on Saturday, I knew that there was always next year.

Friends travel across state lines to play in the CSI. We've had golfers who are fresh out of high school and golfers who have been voting for six decades. Men and women, young and old, Johnstown dwellers and those who once dwelled here...swinging and celebrating, exactly what, I am not sure.

After the golf, my wife and I headed home. Our celebration, two crafty daughters, was awaiting. Looking back on what the CSI has become and what it was this weekend, I reflect back on the Pledge. There were no cameras to capture our declaration. Just a bunch of family and friends, saying something together. That togetherness, the silliest of togetherness, means something and in my mind, is worth doing as long as CSI endures.

And then on Sunday, and presumably every Sunday this fall, another kind of pledge - an anthem - was the story. I chose not to dive too deep in - about what others are doing or not doing. I thought about what I am trying and hoping to do.

My wife and I are going crazy trying to raise two kids, doing our best at our jobs, maintaining some type of healthy living, and sparing some time for each other. In good times and in bad.  Indivisible.

Believing that overcoming a drug epidemic, locally and nationally, is not a hopeless, isolated fight but a hopeful, community pursuit. Indivisible.

Holding on to faith no matter how many hurdles and hoops there seem to be, no matter how much self-doubt comes with it. Believing in something greater. Indivisible.

In my mind, the "justice for all" part of the Pledge starts with individual choice. I chose to wear a Daffy Duck hat while I golfed on Saturday. Freedom of expression, in all forms, is something to be grateful for. It's more about accepting than agreeing. If Cousin Steve chooses to sit, he sits. The show (CSI, Life) must go on.

Find gratitude in freedom. Love your neighbor.  And if you do, that love will speak for itself.

Trailblazers

While the second Saturday of September is still officially summer, it sure felt like autumn at the starting line for the Jim Mayer Trail Family Fun Run. No matter the season, Johnstown is a great place to discover outdoor recreation.

The Jim Mayer Trail stretches from Riverside to Bridge Street with this event beginning and ending at the Riverside trailhead. This morning race served as the final leg in the 2017 Cambria County Trail Series. This initiative highlighted our local trail system and gave community members an opportunity to compete on historic paths. On this morning, a gallery of ducks welcomed runners to the registration table.

I had never set foot on the Jim Mayer Trail before, so it was new terrain and a new experience. The pre-autumn chill quickly evaporated once we were a-running.  The trail is flat and overlooks the home of the ducks, the Stoneycreek River. I really enjoyed the out-and-back race. I enjoyed the out more, but kept my legs pumping for the back.

While exercise is my primary motivation to get out and running, the community camaraderie is a close second. There were familiar, friendly faces on the trail or volunteering to make it all possible. There were low-fives during the race and handshakes during the awards presentation. I didn't take home any hardware, but I am grateful for the hard work of those race day volunteers.

Over the past decade, I have been steadfast in being a part of race days like this one. Races are often a fusion of fellowship and a community making things happen and taking positive action. My speed might not be as quick as it once was, but my passion for contributing to community is picking up the pace.

Later in the day, my youngest and I took a stroll through Stackhouse Park. When we entered the park, it was like trying to hold a hummingbird. When we exited, she was a snoring, snuggle bug. By mid-afternoon, the summer sun was making a resurgence.

When the fall season truly begins, Johnstown trails will be an ongoing topic of conversation and restoration. On September 28th @ 6:00 p.m., Stone Bridge Brewing Company will be the site of a fundraiser to raise money and awareness for a trails project on the hillside of the Inclined Plane. Back in my childhood, I remember taking my dog down some of that slope. As of today, the trail system needs work and there is a team of community members with a plan of attack. Anyone interested in this project should stop down and learn about the plan and the people behind it.

A Scripture verse this Sunday read, "Your word is a lamp to my feet, a lamp to my feet, and a light for my path."  I've always gravitated to the analogy of life as a journey and being out in nature, out on trails, certainly gives me time to pause and think about all the good that is out there. And while in that pause, my feet keep following the trail.

I look forward to the next race, the next wilderness walk with my snuggle bug, and to learning more about the Inclined Plane project.

Together, let's lead Johnstown in the right direction. From what I've seen and heard recently, we are well on our way.

The Ethnic in Everyone

I have an English and Polish ancestry and a beard many believe to be Irish. The Cambria City Ethnic Festival is about history, music, food, and the families that scatter through the streets. My wife's grandmother likes to sit on her Cambria City porch and watch the scattering people as singing birds swoop in and out of her backyard. This year's Ethnic Fest had a bit of a chill, but with the same community warmth.

Ethnic Fest food prepares me for the autumn running season. Translation: I am motivated to run after the 3-day-carbohydrate marathon that is Ethnic Fest. The lamb sandwich at Ace's has been a Johnstown tradition for as long as I can remember. It is the one and only time each year I seek out a sandwich comprised of lamb. It is humongous.

While the lamb sandwich is in accordance with tradition, there were new people to meet and food to fancy at this year's event. A West Virginian vendor reeled me in with a sample of fudge. With my youngest strapped to my chest, I tried a chocolate-mint bite of almost heaven. With a heavy accent and a WVU cap, this guy gave us a quick lesson on the art of his craft. About a half hour later, I bought a box of the chocolate-mint. Go Mountaineers.

On Sunday, my wife and I headed to Cambria City for one last hurrah. A food truck vendor spotted us and believed we might be satisfied by a Gypsy Taco. Gypsies, roaming folks, date back centuries and history tells us they have traveled many different parts of the globe. The Grumbling Gypsy is a food truck that originated in Somerset in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. The Gypsy Taco made for a great lunch. As we ate, the sun tried to squeeze between the clouds. Rain certainly impacted the 2017 Ethnic Fest, but there is no crying at Ethnic Fest.

Other highlights this year included... My 2-year-old got her face painted in the form of Minnie Mouse on Saturday. Minnie, a beloved American rodent, has captured the hearts and minds of young and old. As the paint gradually slid and smeared, my daughter looked less like Minnie and more like monster. Streaking black and red paint reminded me of Braveheart.  What would a 2-year-old do without freedom?

That same daughter and I danced to a band's cover of Easy outside of Bottleworks. On Friday night, we spun around singing about Sunday morning. Released by The Commodores 40 years ago, the Motown chart topper puts it all in perspective. Parenting is hard. Loving those little ones is easy and easily the best investment I've ever made.

To the volunteers and vendors, thank you. Our family, in some way shape or form, took on those Ethnic Fest streets Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. That grandma sat out on her back porch, probably thinking about times gone by while squeezing the grand kids that are growing up so fast.

Next September, both my kids will be on their feet ready to walk, or run, through Cambria City.

Parks and Recreation

My 2-year-old enjoys going to the park. She usually questions which one we are going to play at soon after I announce we are making the journey. Her geographic sense has grown and her predictions have become quite accurate. Mixed in with those predictions remains a bombardment of random thoughts and ideas.

To round out August, our family went in pursuit of new parks. The Johnstown region is full of recreational opportunities and we picked a sunny day to set out. I got behind the wheel of the Subaru and the chatter began.

Our first stop was at Laurel Ridge State Park. The Laurel Highlands hiking trail stretches 70 miles from Johnstown to Ohiopyle. I have hiked sections of the trail over the years and have enjoyed the challenging climbs and scenic terrain. On this afternoon, my wife played the role of Clark. I was Lewis. Our children were the sleepy cargo.

We did not walk far, but walked far enough to feel a parental escape. My cargo missed a gray squirrel firing through the ferns. She would have loved this National Geographic moment, but she needed her afternoon nap. My wife's cargo was snug as a wilderness bug. For fifteen minutes, we found freedom in the forest and our kids snoozed through the sunshine. We loaded the car back up and journeyed over Ligonier Mountain.

As a former Ligonier resident, I never experienced the Friendship Park of today. Recently renovated, this is a colorful and colossal park. My 2-year-old, fresh out of hibernation, attacked this new frontier. Minutes into her mad dash, she turned her bobbing blonde head toward me and stated, "Dad, this is amazing." She proceeded over the wobbly bridge.

And, fittingly, we made some friends. I served as lookout in follow-the-leader. I later led an expedition for acorns. Days later, my eldest and wisest daughter slept with a prized acorn from this trip. Oh, the glory of childhood.

At the end of the week, I returned to Friendship Park and ran the Ligonier Valley Trail at sunrise. This flat course runs through cow country and then hugs the road. It was a great way to start the day. I have been fortunate enough to build friendships stretching from Johnstown to Ligonier. I am appreciative of the people who preserve our parks and support the trail systems scattered throughout our stretch of land.

When my daughter called Friendship park "amazing" it was not an exclamation. She stopped and calmly uttered her viewpoint. It made me smile. I did not have much time to appreciate her analysis. We had to get across that bridge and attack the next obstacle.

Seize the day. Pursue the park. Be amazing.