I find greatness in this month of ghouls and goblins. Before Halloween concludes the October glory, there are fun, local events that spice up autumn. Jump on board our family's chronological crazy train:
Hallowboo
I had not been to Idlewild Park since the Clinton adminstration. Our country tis of thee has changed mightily since then, but by golly, Storybook Forest is still a lovable wilderness of characters. Our Saturday started with the first ever Hallowboo 5K. I sprinted to the finish to beat a man dressed as a hot dog. I was wearing a Dory winter hat. I was one hot fish. By all Pennsylvania fall standards, this first Saturday of October was a scorcher. We had enough SPF 55 to protect all of Storybook Forest.
Another ecosystem of Idlewild is Jumpin' Jungle. There is nothing like the ball pit, a place where laughter and germs reign. While giggling with my 2-year-old, all I could think about was the innocence of youth and the need for a shower.
My daughter needed to be 36 inches tall to do the monstrous cargo net. She is about 35 inches. When she was denied access due to height, she walked away, head and spirits down. Quivering, she turned to her Mom and Dad and belted out, "But, I'm strong!" It was a beautiful, heart wrenching, battle cry. My wife was moved to tears. I got the chills. I shared in her disappointment. I really wanted to do that cargo net.
Seconds later, my daughter and I were all smiles, back in the germ pit.
I wanted to be Dad, the hero, and win my daughter a stuffed animal later in the day. I paid to shoot a baskeball. I practiced my form. I made multiple eye contacts with my daughter to make sure she was witnessing greatness. With perfect form, my shot hit the roof. Miraculously, the ball ricocheted directly into the hoop. She won a pink monkey and named him Cherries. Hero Dad. Hero Dad.
Bedford Fall Foliage Festival
There was no need to bundle up for Bedford. The day after Hallowboo, we were on foot and surrounded by foliage and folks. My wife and I have made Bedford's autumn party our Christmas shopping spree. With two kids strapped to us, we looked more like refugees on this humid Sunday. Carrying an assortment of objects and our children, onlookers probably were perplexed. Does that family need help? Where are they headed? Why have they come?
Do not be mistaken, it is a pleasant, annual adventure. This was our youngest's first Bedford FFF. She was my wife's weighted vest. Our oldest was my shoulder strength training. Both offspring fell asleep at just the right time- lunch at Jean Bonnet Tavern.
This Lincoln Highway landmark has the unique combo of good grub and goats. Outside the tavern, a group of goats have a cozy little community that overlooks the parking lot. After her nap, my nature loving 2-year-old bonded with one goat in particular, a silly animal who shoved his head through the fence for more intimacy. I got a little nervous. I did not need a goat to get his head stuck. My daughter already got rejected by Jumpin' Jungle height laws. The last thing we need is for her to lock eyes with a suffocating goat.
The goat awkwardly found freedom. I drove home.
Fort Ligonier Days
We back-to-backed festival weekends. My wife and I are all-in when it comes to autumn. I give a lot of credit to the staff, volunteers, vendors, and performers who make these festivals what they are. The Ligonier Days parade is a well-orchestrated odyssey.
Our foursome stood in the sun for close to an hour taking in the parade. My oldest daughter was suprisingly enthralled by Chewbacca. She recognized the Pirate Parrot. She listened to high school bands in a studious, almost expressionless, manner. Escaping the autumn sun, we ate lunch at The Kitchen on Main. We could still watch the parade and go potty. Winner, winner, let's get home by dinner.
After feeling nourished, we took to the streets. Our ice cream loving child made polite pleads for a sweet treat. Mint chocolate chip it was. My daughter and I ate it on a grassy knoll. In September 1758, brave men began building Fort Ligonier. In October 2017, a courageous Dad built a mint chocolate chip memory. George Washington would be proud.
American Red Cross Vampire 5K
In my hometown running career, I have never participated in this blood sucker until this year. It was a diverse turnout. There was a family of Ninja Turtles. Forrest Gump was the race director. There was a man with a hideous baby mask in a baby blue suit. I was a sweaty Dory. In Johnstown, October is the new July.
A sincere thank you to the staff and volunteers who put this race on and to all those in the community who ran or walked. I see some of the same faces at these events and meet new people. It is refreshing to see this cross section of community - young and old, men and women, costumed and not-costumed - exercising and supporting a worthy cause.
I plan on being back next year, maybe not as Dory, but back and out for blood.
ARToberFEST
I can run. I can write. I cannot art. In grade school, art projects were my terror. I did not create art. I created stress trying to do art. Thankfully, I graduated grade school and I am now a functioning artless adult. The Community Arts Center of Cambria County had this event for artists of all ages. I had to work, but my wife described the masterpiece.
My 2-year-old got to Picasso a pumpkin. She also made a flowery piece of art that I cannot decipher. She now uses it is like an umbrella inside the house. It is not a practical practice. For one, our home has a roof. Secondly, I don't believe the flowers would keep her dry in a rainstorm. Aha, art is for creators and imaginations.
She found time to eat two hot dogs and get an animal painted on her hand. She requested a brown snake, a popular, feminine, seasonal choice. I would have loved to see my daughter holding a hot dog with a brown snaked hand. That's my girl. That's my girl.
Community Fire Prevention Day
Let's end with some educational heat. It has been one hot October. I am thankful for the great weather we had and the great people who put events like this together - and all the events I wrote about above. It is during this time of year that I really love living in this plot of land.
Once again, this is a short story from the perspective of my wife. The fire prevention day was held in the Westwood Plaza parking lot. Our 2-year-old received candy upon entry. She received "fire truck swag". She met Smokey the Bear and found him to be intimidating. A police officer gave my daughter a whistle. That's a good way to ward off Smokey and drive Dad insane. A "Jaws of Life" demonstration was completed. A helicopter landing was executed.
I'm not exactly sure what my daughter learned on this day or what she will remember about her 2-year-old October, but I know this - there is a lot to do in Johnstown; there is a lot to do in our region; this is a great place to live; this a great place to be a Dad.
Next October, my daughter will be tall enough to climb that cargo net, but I learned from her words - life is not about height, it's about strength.
Each of us can make this community stronger by supporting each other. I'll never be an artist, but Johnstown is my hometown canvas and the picture keeps getting better.
Monday, October 23, 2017
Monday, October 16, 2017
Family Feast
As I have grown up and grown with Johnstown, I have had the good fortune to eat good food courtesy of good people. This past week was a reminder of how a community is connected by the hard work of families who call Johnstown home.
On Thursday night, my wife and I attended a Spangler Subaru event inside the War Memorial - now known as 1st Summit Arena. When I moved back to Johnstown in 2008, I purchased a used, green Subaru Outback. I was a one-man wrecking crew in that family wagon. The hatchback was full of sports equipment, tools I did not know how to use, and camping gear. It smelled like a single man.
That Subaru eventually went to Outback Heaven and I eventually got married and had kids. We have two Outbacks that smell like children. The hatchbacks are full of baby equipment, hiking gear to strap kids into, and tools I do not know how to use are buried under wipes and blankets. I am running the gauntlet of a Spangler Subaru Outback life and enjoying the ride.
Inside the Stars and Stripes Lounge, my wife and I welcomed a night away from the kiddos. It was an opportunity to relax and pretend like we were in the market for a 2018 Subaru Crosstrek. There was live music and food to enjoy. We talked to another couple about adventures in parenting. Promotional videos played. My brand loyalty to Subaru has a lot to do with safety, cargo space and all-wheel drive. It also has a lot to do with the family that drives the local dealership. Before I ever bought an Outback, I was in the same grade school as the owner's kids. Our paths have crossed at golf outings, weddings, and community events. Spangler Subaru supports Stackhouse Park which supports me when I need an outdoor escape after a car ride of craziness.
Two nights later, we drove our nicest Outback (Carlos) to another event and again we did not have our bundles of joy. Our oldest Outback (Carla) rested on the street. I never named a vehicle until I began dating my future wife. I found it ridiculous to name a car, so I stuck with names as close to "car" as possible. Rest in Peace, Carl.
On this outstanding second date night of the week, we headed to the Johnstown airport to celebrate 75 years of Sunseri Wholesale. Back in the glory days of Carl, I delivered fruit baskets for this family owned and operated business. The best man in my wedding is high up on the food chain at Sunseri's. His father, highest on that chain, counted on me being jolly as I delivered fruit all over the land. I put on my Santa hat and went to work.
Many of us Christmas fruit basket deliverers still joke about delivery moments, like when I drove down Main Street the wrong way. Or when I drove up a snowy, treacherous hill to deliver a basket to whom I presumed to be The Grinch due to the ascent. Somehow, Carl successfully completed the climb and that family got their fruit. All-wheel drive all the way to the top.
This past Saturday night was not focused on fruit basket tales, but on how a one-man business became a family's legacy. Sunseri's is everything that is great about Johnstown. Generations of dedication have kept their wholesale business going and growing. My wife and I shared stories with business owners who count on Sunseri's. The room was full of families who are a part of my food autobiography. I'd love to make a family tree focused on Santo's pizza intake. It would be preposterous. From my parents to my brother to now my family, Santo's sauce is running through our veins. My brother and the owner go to the same church. The pizza is good, but the people are better.
Then, there is Clark's Corner Store. Their candy propelled me through childhood. Their breakfast pizza kicked off my wedding day and my brother's wedding day. The owner's son was my grade school quarterback. He had a great arm for a middle schooler, must have ate a lot of breakfast pizza. Instead of a cake, my wife and I cut into a Clark's gob after we tied the knot. That cornerstore has been a part of some big moments.
And at this 75th anniversary party, when we weren't sharing stories, we ate. Flair of Country Catering is nowhere close to seven + decades of service, but they are off to one great start. It is a Johnstown success story. An ambitious, talented chef goes big and comes home with it. He doesn't buy a Subaru. He buys a mobile kitchen and launches an event planning, food making, countryside crossing business. Sunseri's started by one man traveling to Chambersburg for peaches 75 years ago. Hard work starts somewhere. Go big. Stay home - your food is awesome.
Finally, I attended Cafe Sunday at Mill House Cafe to put it all in perspective. A lyric from the opening song reads, "Come to the table, whoever is hungry / Eat from the banquet that will satisfy". I am blessed with a great family. If it weren't for my parents and my wife's parents and for friends who are family, date nights wouldn't be possible. Our community is full of small business owners making great food and greater memories. And above all, it is faith that keeps me grounded in gratitude.
Cheers to all those in the community who make Johnstown a great place. Let's keep growing. I'm proud to be a part of this feast.
On Thursday night, my wife and I attended a Spangler Subaru event inside the War Memorial - now known as 1st Summit Arena. When I moved back to Johnstown in 2008, I purchased a used, green Subaru Outback. I was a one-man wrecking crew in that family wagon. The hatchback was full of sports equipment, tools I did not know how to use, and camping gear. It smelled like a single man.
That Subaru eventually went to Outback Heaven and I eventually got married and had kids. We have two Outbacks that smell like children. The hatchbacks are full of baby equipment, hiking gear to strap kids into, and tools I do not know how to use are buried under wipes and blankets. I am running the gauntlet of a Spangler Subaru Outback life and enjoying the ride.
Inside the Stars and Stripes Lounge, my wife and I welcomed a night away from the kiddos. It was an opportunity to relax and pretend like we were in the market for a 2018 Subaru Crosstrek. There was live music and food to enjoy. We talked to another couple about adventures in parenting. Promotional videos played. My brand loyalty to Subaru has a lot to do with safety, cargo space and all-wheel drive. It also has a lot to do with the family that drives the local dealership. Before I ever bought an Outback, I was in the same grade school as the owner's kids. Our paths have crossed at golf outings, weddings, and community events. Spangler Subaru supports Stackhouse Park which supports me when I need an outdoor escape after a car ride of craziness.
Two nights later, we drove our nicest Outback (Carlos) to another event and again we did not have our bundles of joy. Our oldest Outback (Carla) rested on the street. I never named a vehicle until I began dating my future wife. I found it ridiculous to name a car, so I stuck with names as close to "car" as possible. Rest in Peace, Carl.
On this outstanding second date night of the week, we headed to the Johnstown airport to celebrate 75 years of Sunseri Wholesale. Back in the glory days of Carl, I delivered fruit baskets for this family owned and operated business. The best man in my wedding is high up on the food chain at Sunseri's. His father, highest on that chain, counted on me being jolly as I delivered fruit all over the land. I put on my Santa hat and went to work.
Many of us Christmas fruit basket deliverers still joke about delivery moments, like when I drove down Main Street the wrong way. Or when I drove up a snowy, treacherous hill to deliver a basket to whom I presumed to be The Grinch due to the ascent. Somehow, Carl successfully completed the climb and that family got their fruit. All-wheel drive all the way to the top.
This past Saturday night was not focused on fruit basket tales, but on how a one-man business became a family's legacy. Sunseri's is everything that is great about Johnstown. Generations of dedication have kept their wholesale business going and growing. My wife and I shared stories with business owners who count on Sunseri's. The room was full of families who are a part of my food autobiography. I'd love to make a family tree focused on Santo's pizza intake. It would be preposterous. From my parents to my brother to now my family, Santo's sauce is running through our veins. My brother and the owner go to the same church. The pizza is good, but the people are better.
Then, there is Clark's Corner Store. Their candy propelled me through childhood. Their breakfast pizza kicked off my wedding day and my brother's wedding day. The owner's son was my grade school quarterback. He had a great arm for a middle schooler, must have ate a lot of breakfast pizza. Instead of a cake, my wife and I cut into a Clark's gob after we tied the knot. That cornerstore has been a part of some big moments.
And at this 75th anniversary party, when we weren't sharing stories, we ate. Flair of Country Catering is nowhere close to seven + decades of service, but they are off to one great start. It is a Johnstown success story. An ambitious, talented chef goes big and comes home with it. He doesn't buy a Subaru. He buys a mobile kitchen and launches an event planning, food making, countryside crossing business. Sunseri's started by one man traveling to Chambersburg for peaches 75 years ago. Hard work starts somewhere. Go big. Stay home - your food is awesome.
Finally, I attended Cafe Sunday at Mill House Cafe to put it all in perspective. A lyric from the opening song reads, "Come to the table, whoever is hungry / Eat from the banquet that will satisfy". I am blessed with a great family. If it weren't for my parents and my wife's parents and for friends who are family, date nights wouldn't be possible. Our community is full of small business owners making great food and greater memories. And above all, it is faith that keeps me grounded in gratitude.
Cheers to all those in the community who make Johnstown a great place. Let's keep growing. I'm proud to be a part of this feast.
Thursday, October 5, 2017
The United States of Music
As our country tries to understand one man's evil in Las Vegas, I found good in music. It was music that brought people together on that Nevada night. And it is music that often inspires the good in those unwilling to let negativity prevail.
The Saturday before the tragedy at the Jason Aldean concert, I was standing and stretching in familiar territory. It was my 5th consecutive year lacing up for the Conemaugh Que Classic, marketed as our region's premiere autumn 5K. It has become a family tradition to kickoff the fall season. A talented female singer belted our National Anthem to enthuse hundreds of runners, walkers, and strollers. With the countdown clock ticking away, the song "Thunder" by Imagine Dragons fueled the community fire. A fire-breathing dragon of a Dad was ready to run.
Feeling an extra jolt, I crossed the finish line quicker than my two previous runnings of "The Que". It was no time to bask in fatherhood glory - my wife and 2-year-old were on the course. I walked back to reunite with them and to add some mileage to my morning exercise.
Upon returning home, our youngest - a 6-month-old crawling competitor - was her usual, celebratory self. "Thunder" became our family's anthem for the rest of the weekend and into the next week. Thunder, feel the thunder, Lightning and the thunder was our battle cry. The parents didn't really understand the lyrics. Our oldest thought parts of the song were scary. Our youngest may understand the song, but she is unable to talk. We danced recklessly. The 2-year-old started closing her eyes and hypnotically swaying to our family storm. I guess I am the lightning. My wife and daughters are the thunder. What a sensational storm. I could not imagine a life without this trio.
Days later, I did remember the life I once led as a single man. Driving to work on a foggy morning before the sunrise, "American Girl" blared from my radio. Years ago, in a lodge at UPJ, Tom Petty's voice was drowned out by a joyfully inharmonious group. Take it easy baby, make it last all night poured out in pure college chaos. Dreamers danced around the power of Petty. His music will live on, college town to college town, car radio to car radio.
And then on this past Wednesday night, a mountain of a man with a mountain range of a voice brought music to life at Mill House Cafe in Westmont. Bradford Loomis, a bearded, soulful storyteller, was climbing up and down the Northeast, gig-to-gig. The night before he was in Harlem. He is from Seattle. He just moved to Nashville. He wound up in Johnstown. He is the America that I find fascinating - passionate, free, and adventurous. No show is too small. Each message is important.
Surrounded by neighbors and friends, my wife and I followed Bradford's music from rumbling lows to shocking high notes. We learned about his journey, his beard, his family - his story. It was a one-hour show that I'll play back in my head for much, much longer.
If there is a battle going on between good and evil, I believe music plays along side with the good. It inspires runners to run faster; families to dance and enjoy the moments no one else sees; college kids to hold on to their youth; creative artists to tell their story.
In the face of tragedy or obstacle or uncertainty, find someone or something positive. Music just might be a part of that someone or something. It certainly was for me this autumn.
Tom Petty said it best.
"I will stand my ground. And I won't back down."
The Saturday before the tragedy at the Jason Aldean concert, I was standing and stretching in familiar territory. It was my 5th consecutive year lacing up for the Conemaugh Que Classic, marketed as our region's premiere autumn 5K. It has become a family tradition to kickoff the fall season. A talented female singer belted our National Anthem to enthuse hundreds of runners, walkers, and strollers. With the countdown clock ticking away, the song "Thunder" by Imagine Dragons fueled the community fire. A fire-breathing dragon of a Dad was ready to run.
Feeling an extra jolt, I crossed the finish line quicker than my two previous runnings of "The Que". It was no time to bask in fatherhood glory - my wife and 2-year-old were on the course. I walked back to reunite with them and to add some mileage to my morning exercise.
Upon returning home, our youngest - a 6-month-old crawling competitor - was her usual, celebratory self. "Thunder" became our family's anthem for the rest of the weekend and into the next week. Thunder, feel the thunder, Lightning and the thunder was our battle cry. The parents didn't really understand the lyrics. Our oldest thought parts of the song were scary. Our youngest may understand the song, but she is unable to talk. We danced recklessly. The 2-year-old started closing her eyes and hypnotically swaying to our family storm. I guess I am the lightning. My wife and daughters are the thunder. What a sensational storm. I could not imagine a life without this trio.
Days later, I did remember the life I once led as a single man. Driving to work on a foggy morning before the sunrise, "American Girl" blared from my radio. Years ago, in a lodge at UPJ, Tom Petty's voice was drowned out by a joyfully inharmonious group. Take it easy baby, make it last all night poured out in pure college chaos. Dreamers danced around the power of Petty. His music will live on, college town to college town, car radio to car radio.
And then on this past Wednesday night, a mountain of a man with a mountain range of a voice brought music to life at Mill House Cafe in Westmont. Bradford Loomis, a bearded, soulful storyteller, was climbing up and down the Northeast, gig-to-gig. The night before he was in Harlem. He is from Seattle. He just moved to Nashville. He wound up in Johnstown. He is the America that I find fascinating - passionate, free, and adventurous. No show is too small. Each message is important.
Surrounded by neighbors and friends, my wife and I followed Bradford's music from rumbling lows to shocking high notes. We learned about his journey, his beard, his family - his story. It was a one-hour show that I'll play back in my head for much, much longer.
If there is a battle going on between good and evil, I believe music plays along side with the good. It inspires runners to run faster; families to dance and enjoy the moments no one else sees; college kids to hold on to their youth; creative artists to tell their story.
In the face of tragedy or obstacle or uncertainty, find someone or something positive. Music just might be a part of that someone or something. It certainly was for me this autumn.
Tom Petty said it best.
"I will stand my ground. And I won't back down."
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