June Jingles and Jolts

The summer season's opening month has delivered these local sights and sounds:

Jingle

We attended the SummerQuest kickoff @ the Cambria County Library for a little mid-June rocking, rolling, and reading. The Evergreens set the mood on the outdoor patio as kids frolicked the grounds. The adventure themed event was perfect for this pioneer. Our library's outdoor upgrades are inviting to inspiring while the programming is consistently creative and colorful. Rock painting power to flower sniffing satisfaction, the Great Outdoors were truly great on this night. On the inside of this book kingdom, we personalized adventurous book markers and then entered a planetarium for a short film. 

Sitting inside a giant inflatable globe, the parents learned a lot surrounded by galaxy children. First off, sitting criss-cross applesauce is hard. As I was learning about the intense training astronauts have to endure just to qualify for intergalatic adventuring, I got hot and bothered by sitting. My astronaunt application would get rejected faster than a shooting star:

NASA: "Tell us about yourself..."

Me: "I don't like tight spaces, I can't sit still, and I just recently realized that sitting criss-cross applesauce is hell. I understand that if I am not sitting, I will be floating. I also like having control. How do you control floating? Also, is there barbecue on board? I love barbecue." 

NASA: "Here is a trail map. Stay on Earth."

While the film played, I fidgeted like a caveman desperate to stand up for the first time while my wife admired the library's floor. Legend has it that child birth has increased motion sickness in her body/brain/being. I tried to comfort her by reliving the moment when I almost passed out the first time I saw an epidural needle. 

After the movie, like good parents, we blamed our kids for our problems and bought them ice cream. 

Jolt

While commanding the Subaru on Franklin Street one mighty fine June evening, I peered over the river wall. Brakes slammed. Bald Eagle. 

I abandoned my vehicle and family - after putting on my four way flashers and safely exiting The Ascent. I did leave my door wide open, but we all make mistakes and forgiveness is a part of marriage. My youngest daughter followed me to see this patriotic bird stoically perched on a river rock. This predator was hunting and peering into the American aqua. 

It reaffirmed I would be a terrible astronaunt and I love this country. 

Jingle

My daughters sung the National Anthem @ a Johnstown Mill Rats baseball game. My 9-year-old was the lead singer and her younger sister was her backup vocalist. They were as poised and patriotic as that river rock Bald Eagle. Their musical talent and stage presence is a testament to so many great teachers and mentors along the way. It should be noted that Dad's driving and shower singing provided a strong musical foundation. 

I also taught them to never sing, shower, and drive at the same time. 

Jolt 

At Yellow Creek State Park in Indiana, I was part of a waterway adventure crew that spotted a killdeer on land. A killdeer is actually a sweet looking bird and not a murderous whitetail. This particular killdeer was a parent protecting a clutch of eggs directly behind a park bench. We got some National Geographic pictures of this wetlands bird and the four dinosaur looking eggs lying in this peculiar shady spot. The John Muir in me was beaming like the sun. 

Jingle 

Our family of four went to the see Inside Out 2 @ the Westwood Plaza this month. The best way I can describe Pixar films is that they have "get you" moments. There are times in life where these incredibly smart animated movies hit home depending on where you are on the journey. Inside Out debuted the same year my first daughter was born - a story about the complex emotions inside a little girl named Riley. Nine years later, the sequel catches us up with Riley as she is speeding toward and through adolescence, introducing a barrage of new emotions. 

Beyond the emotions, characters, and outstanding animation, the soundtrack is brillant. As a Girl Dad, the movie was as heartwarming as it was heartwrenching - the adult audience challenged to navigate through the hopes and perils of growing up, surrounded by the kids we are rooting for every step of the way.  If John Muir would have been inside my brain during that hour and a half, he would have said, "Good God boy, we need to get you to Alaska."

I am so very proud of my girls.

Damn you, Pixar. You did it again. 

Jolt 

Later in the month, we went back to the library to get an education on frogs. This was shortly after my youngest daughter almost stepped on a toad in the backyard. She seems to attract amphibians. There is no rush growing up, my froggy princess. Keep finding backyard beasts while I patrol the front lawn and keep the boys away. 

On this Monday night, the library's adventure series was a Frog Friends workshop where we listened to frog calls, learned about local species of leapers, and even got to watch a froggy feeding. Seated on a chair in the front row, I was much more comfortable than my "Planetarum Caveman Experience (PCE)". Special thanks to PA Woods and Forests for providing the amphibious education!

Jingle 

On the second Saturday in June, we celebrated a good friend who entered into ordained ministry. When a full church, a collection of interconnected community members, sang "Your Grace Is Enough", the lyrics spoke for themselves. But if there was an emotion to pinpoint, it was arguably the most importatnt character from Inside Out 2....

Joy.

As June turns to July, bring the joy. Visit your local library and gain some knowledge. Support local artists and teams. Soar with the eagles and hop with the frogs. Get lost in the magic of the movies. Realize that growing up today is not an easy adventure. Cheer on kids each and every day. Kids, cheer on the parents - we need the encouragement too. Strength in numbers gets stronger with an attitude of gratitude. 

Grateful for community and family. 

Adventure on. 

Crazy over Lazy

Over the second weekend of June, I embraced lunacy. By pure definition, being labeled a lunatic is not complimentary. It would indicate some form of insanity or wild tomfoolery that could be dangerous; however, there are a bunch of examples where a compliment is paid in the form of crazy. A committed sports fan becomes a fanatic taking fandom to a lunacy level.  A basketball guard with tremendous dribbling ability or a hockey scorer who uses his or her stick like a magician has "crazy handle". One might hop on a crazy train or be crazy in love. And the prevailing thought after a June Sunday was "tis better to be crazy than to be lazy".

Let's start from the beginning. I woke up first on this particular Sunday, a common initiation in our household. It was 5:15 AM and none of us were in the house. We were in a tent in the backyard. During the pandemic, the idea of living off the land was adventurous and advantageous. Our girls loved the campfire attraction right outside our doorstep and the parents needed a thrill that was outside the walls that had us boxed in. After years of commitment, camping in the backyard is now a standard operating parental procedure that has not lost luster. It comes with SMORES, the possibility of an outdoor movie, and the guarantee of Dad SNORES. 

A tradition that was born out of the backyard camp was Dad going to Dunkin Donuts to deliver "breakfast in tent". I honored my daughters' request by driving my Subaru on the inaugural sugar rush years ago. Then, somewhere during the pandemic madness, I decided - this is too easy and the world is too weird - I will bike to destination donuts.

Biking from Brownstown to Westmont requires almost immediate hills to humble thy father. On this Sunday I was also up again incoming rainfall. This bike mission felt quite apocalyptic as there were very few signs of life and the atmosphere was brewing for a burst. Alas, it was I bursting into Dunkin. "Blueberry and Coconut donuts, to go please, I am on bicycle. That is why I am sweating at 6:00 AM."

When I reemerged as a backyard hero, my wife and children clapped for me and neighbors sung my praises. Just kidding, everyone was still asleep. The birds cheered. I ate my coconut donut in peace, sipping on coffee and the sweet nectar of Mother Nature. Then, the beasts wobbled out of our monstrous blue tent. Sunday is on like Donkey Kong. 

After I watched my offspring devour the nourishment I heroically provided. It was time for me to leave once more, this time by vehicle. I attended a Sunday morning small group that has become an essential ingredient to my earthly existence. It is often fathers talking, laughing, and lumbering through life's challenges. It blends faith, humor, travel, hope, and a wellspring of coffee. The fellowship truly only has one essential ingredient - a belief in a Creator, a gratitude for this opportunity. 

So, it was I that came home as Donkey Kong post-fellowship. My wife reminded me that she and my daughters had to take a church picture at high noon. I told her, "what if I hike through Stackhouse Park and meet you at the church that I just left an hour ago".  She said "Brilliant, you lunatic" with her eyeballs. I love that look. I get it often. Also, I want to point out - dear readers - I was not going to be in this photograph. My hike was justified. 

The girls took a gorgeous snapshot while I made my way through the forest. Once reunited, my oldest locked in with what I was thinking...

"NOW WHAT TO DO WE DO?!?!"

And then suddenly the Laurel Highlands called out to us - my eldest daughter and me - "Head to the hills of Donegal" (deep voice, not heard by wife and youngest child). Let's Subaru Ascent to Caddie Shak! My wife and youngest daughter jump on board after we explain the calling. 

When I was a young buck, Caddie Shak was Donegal. If you were in Donegal, you were at Caddie Shak. And here I was on #7 at the Olde Mini Golf Course, back in my glory. Sunshine, glorious. Wife, glorious. Children, glorious. Pond frogs, glorious. 

Shot #1: Ball rolls back to me (Out of Bounds, Penalty Stroke)

Shot #3: Ball rolls back to me (Out of Bounds, Penalty Stroke)

Another family of four closing in on me. Awkward silence from my wife. Awkward silence from the family waiting on the tee box. Oldest daughter "encouraging" me not to give up. Youngest daughter can't watch any more of this ramp torture.  

Shot #5: Ball rolls back to me (Out of Bounds, Penalty Stroke). 

Pick up ball. Card "7". 

I was silent and fine until I saw the sunglow on my wife's smiling face. She was fighting laughter... poorly. My kids were already on Hole 8. I was an emotional fragile 8-year-old school boy wondering where it all went wrong. Good news, I recovered. Bad news, my wife got a Hole-In-One on #18 and slammed the door shut on my comeback attempt. Victory is hers. Humility is mine. There was little time for emotional processing. Onward to Grand Prix. 

When we got in line for Go Karts, I did not know what to expect. I did not expect my oldest daughter to qualify as a driver. There I was watching my life flash before my eyes. The Go Kart roar echoing over Donegal like it was the Indianapolis 500. My wife and youngest in the opposite lane, buckling in, a formidable tandem. I was directly behind my first-born, who was equally astonished by being behind the wheel. It was a full lineup of Go Karters. You could feel the energy. A teenage Go Kart expert announced race rules that I could not decipher over the firepower and angst. AND WE ARE OFF!

Here comes a true Dad comment - those Karts have some zip! If Caddie Shak captured my face on that first lap, it would have been a frozen face of "Oh, wow!, Oh, wow?, Oh wow!?!, Oh no!?, Oh yes!, Oh!"

And you just keep going. It felt like we did 500 laps. To see my 9-year-old commanding a Go-Kart amongst other Donegal drivers went from bewildering to blissful. She may or may not have spun out another preteen, breaking the "no bumping" rule. 

"Officer, it is hard not to bump when you are going 100 MPH."

When we left Caddie Shak, my oldest believed she was a better driver. My youngest believed she was a better putter. I don't know what my wife believed. It is hard to read women. I believed we should head to Rockwood and get a bite @ Trailhead Brewing. After trailing most of the day on both the mini golf course and race track, my new nickname could be "Trailhead".

The drive from Donegal to Rockwood was an open country experience; a field of longhorns, an oriole chasing a crow over corn stalks, the sale of maple syrup, topsoil, and firewood around every twist and turn. Upon reaching Trailhead, we were graced with the final songs of a live musical act. I ordered delicious and hearty Italian paninis from The Fat Squirrel Restaurant while my ladies set up shop. Once the music ended, I filtered through the brewery's games, finding the card game, WTF (What The Fish).

13 hours after hopping on my bike, we were in fast-flowing water, shouting What The Fish! in Rockwood. God Bless America.

The girls fell asleep on the ride home. My wife and I looked back on the day that was. We had a lot of laughs. We did not talk about Hole #7. We had a lot of fun. There was one thing left to do before we slept in the house.

We took down the tent.

With Father's Day around the corner, I am grateful for days like this one.  For my wife, who is our engine. For my kids who provide the spark. Crazy about my family, my faith, Mother Nature, and the adventure that is every sunrise. 

Rest up, Johnstown. 

Love lunacy.