Peace in the Park

 Tonight our family went to Central Park in downtown Johnstown for one last hoorah for oh Christmas tree. We danced around that towering, shiny evergreen as if dancing was the only thing that mattered. 

I refuse to concede to the notion that these are "dark days". I choose to live in the light. To dance under the glow of that Christmas tree. To be a role model for my girls. To appreciate my freedom of speech yet enjoy moments of joy without having to voice anything. To go into a public place to enjoy the view instead of singularly motivated to express a view.

And defining greatness is not neccessary and utterly subjective. As a responsible adult, why not just dance. Let kids know it is perfectly ok to be vulnerable. This world is far from perfect and nothing is normal. Life is abnormal. Get use to it, mask or no mask. As my oldest daughter turns the corner to age 6, her wisdom, empathy, and curiosity continues to amaze me. 

I am grateful that during these days of light, I shared some unbelievable experiences with her. I am far from perfect yet I am grateful. Grateful that I did not waste precious time judging others entangled in a world wide web of adult arrogance and ignorance. My daughter and I reflected upon the idea of letting tomorrow worry about tomorrow. Let's be our best today. Let that curiosity parachute in each and every day. Let creativity explode. Ride a tidal wave of kindness. If you do, you will end up on the beach. If you forget about kindness, you will find yourself lost at sea. 

I challenge everyone who reads this blog to enter a park this month. Breathe in fresh air. If you are lucky enough to have the legs and lungs to walk a path, do it. There are plenty of people who don't have that fortune. Plenty of people who lost that fortune over the last 12 months. And you don't have to wear a t-shirt or hat declaring an affiliation. You don't have to pick a side. Pick a path. You don't have to protest. By keeping your thoughts to yourself, you might actually gain perspective. There is scientific evidence that suggests that simply being amongst trees is therapeutic. Watching my family dance around that tree tonight, it probably didn't look like therapy and more like lunacy. I choose to be that lunatic. That Girl Dad unafraid of hip shaking and risk taking. 

The Christmas spirit was present tonight in downtown Johnstown. It was present because of the tree. It was present because of the music. It was present because we were present. Living in a moment. Showing our kids that Christmas is not one day. It is a season. It is a celebration there for the taking. All we have to do is show up. 

And as adults, maybe we just shut up and listen. 

Maybe a curious and creative kid will teach us something. 

 

The Food Awards

Unless you have been living and eating under a rock, you are well aware that the pandemic has threatened the restaurant industry. Restaurant owners have had to rethink, retool, and rebuild throughout the Covid-19 culinary crisis. In honor of all the restaurants still making food and making it work, I give you my favorite dishes of these times. They have helped fill my soul and my Dad body. In no particular order and without further ado:

NyKo's Love Roll

Before falling in love with the woman who would become my wife and the love roll (in that order), I did not eat raw fish. She introduced me to sushi during our courtship. I had limited knowledge of sushi as a Neanderthal bachelor. My chopsticking was as raw as the fish. I would pay the price when I used too much wasabi in the soy sauce. The more I ate sushi, the more I developed a joy for rolled up sea creatures. Chopsticks became mighty extensions of my phalanges. The love roll melted into my heart and bones. 

2020 marked my highest consumption of NyKo's love roll. Our world needed more love in general so I filled my world with this crab based romance that dances with avocado, cucumber, tuna, salmon, and mysterious sauces. The crab is what really captures my Dad buds (taste buds of a Dad). Whenever I eat a love roll, I instantly become more empathetic and passionate. 

Santo's Chicken Parm Sandwich

In my lifetime, our family has spent a preposterous amount of money on Santo's pizza. Every penny and piece of pizza has been worth it. Yet, it is the chicken parm sandwich that lifted me to new heights in 2020. Imagine a man standing on the top of a mountain eating a chicken parm sandwich. The cheese is melting, flowing down the mountain, trailed by a red sauce river of goodness. The man roars. The echo breathes in that glorious chicken and welcoming bread. 

I am that man. 

Clark's Corner Store Breakfast Pizza

On the morning of my wedding, I carbo loaded on Clark's breakfast pizza. It was going to be a hot June day and I needed a base of egg and bacon in the shape of pizza. It was a brilliant breakfast that has fueled my marriage since Day 1. We returned to the breakfast pizza this Christmas Eve morning. While leaving out cookies and milk for Santa is a moon lit tradition, there is no doubt in my mind that Santa eats breakfast pizza at sunrise before delivering toys to all the girls and boys. How do you think he grows that hearty beard?

By the way, most of my Christmas gifts were related to my beard. Washes, oils, balms, combs, and more. Needless to say, I'm not shaving any time soon. 2021, the groom boom. 

Balance Crusted Lamb

On New Year's Day, our family did a lot of exercise - Zoom yoga, Youtube dance workouts, and I completed a 2-mile trek into the icy abyss of Stackhouse Park. We championed all that is cardiovascular to earn a midday Balance extravaganza, a mouth watering bombardment of meat and vegetables. I was a sophisticated caveman with my cavewomen tearing into ribs, Brussels sprouts, carrots, and beets. My beard grew exponentially as barbecue sauce soaked into thy hair follicles.  

The most scrumptious part of the feast was the crusted lamb, a memorable loin to begin 2021. It sat on a sweet potato puree. It was a tender, flavored cut of baby sheep. My wife and I did not speak much during the eating. There were some savage affirmations and unanswered questions from our children. 

Shortly after, we all counted sheep and crashed. We balanced the recliner and drifted off into a naptime for the ages. 

Boulevard Grill Nashville Hot Wings

Back when you could travel without shame or outcry, my wife and I experienced Nashville, a community of history, music, and Southern fare. The hot wings are iconic Nashville grub. Boulevard Grill has paid homage to the spice and adventure that are Nashville hot wings. Add pickles to the punch, you get a flamethrower of a meal. And, it is not that hot you get sweaty and delirious. The perfect amount of heat that needs tamed by a cold drink. I could close my eyes and travel back to Nashville honky-tonks. Thousands of people flooding the streets. The sound of guitars and drums. Shouts of joy and admiration. The experience that is eating. 

Thank you Boulevard for taking me back to Music City. 

Ryan's Artisan Goods Everything Bagel

The everything bagel is one of the most audacious foods. It claims "everything" and struts around the other bagels like the majestic bagel that it is. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be a plain bagel? Whoever named bagels did not hold back. "You guys are plain. You guys are everything. Sorry, look at you. Life's not fair".

Ryan's Artisan Goods just opened up a new store front in Cambria City. When dining makes a triumphant comeback, you can watch the world go by out of a giant windows overlooking Broad Street. I coated a Ryan's everything bagel with cream cheese, like snowfall on a ridgetop. I had everything all over and in my beard. Plain bagels cursed me as I spoke highly of the fanciest damn bagel the world has ever known. 

Support local restaurants. The six establishments above are well-established in our family. Some date back to my childhood. Others have been a part of the childhoods of my girls. All of them have brought good tidings and good food. 

To all restaurant owners, chefs, waiters, waitresses, and bartenders: hang in there. Keep those doors open. Keep those creative juices flowing. Cook with love. 

We will love you back.

2021, Johnstown. Make it a year to celebrate community!

Cambria County Camel Community College (CCCCC)

Education has gone haywire. So, now is the perfect time to initiate and promote the Cambria County Camel Community College, a nonprofit adventure from my imagination. Throughout 2020 I have created Animal of the Day academia to stimulate the brains of my 5-year-old and 3-year-old daughters. Without further ado, here is my lesson plan and lessons learned from the last hoorah of our 2020 home schoolhouse. 

I prepared a camel dedicated day for the ages. Camels have survived the test of the time so let's get biblical to start. Camels are referenced in Genesis and travel throughout the Old Testament; the methodical wanderers of the desert. This humped herbivore has fascinated humans for centuries. The true test for this Dad was to capture the minds and hearts of two impatient, homebound pupils. 

I led with a cartoon "We Three Kings" video. Not exactly pump-up music, but seasonally solid and a clear visual honoring the camel. I quoted Genesis, "their camels carrying aromatic gum, balsam, and resin, going down to Egypt" and continued by identifying gold, frankincense, and myrrh as the first Christmas gifts. I was ill-prepared for my 5-year-old's questions. I did not put any research into balsam. I brushed off her interrogation with a simple summary: 3 dudes carrying good smelling stuff plus gold to Jesus. What does an infant do with gold?  He invests it. That's what he does. 

Onward to the first worksheet. Working together, my girls completed written work focused on the number 3 in honor of those traverse afar Kings. Upon completion, we watched a video clip that answered the question, "What is inside a camel's hump?" That weird mammal mound is not full of gold. It is actually a hump of fat. It is believed that a camel's hump can store up to 80 pounds of fat! This mini-mountain provides the fuel for camels to trek in some of the harshest places on Earth. 

For parents, school from home can be harsh. But out of the burden, a blessing has risen like that glorious camel hump. The experience has sparked my creativity. It has made me appreciate teachers now more than ever. And most of all, I got to spend time with my girls. Without leaving home, we traveled the world and learned about many of God's wild and wonderful creatures. 

If I told a camel 2020 has been like chewing on a cactus, the response would be: "Yum, sounds delicious". Just do the common Youtube search "camel eating a cactus" and watch prickly plant dining. Evolution and survival at its finest. Camels have developed the ability to chew through the pain in order to get nutrients that help sustain their desert marches. My girls were locked in to this sloppy and awkward meal. 2020 has been quite prickly and awkward. I'm determined to power through the prickly. We march on. Grateful for surviving. Ready for some 2021 thriving. 

Our next worksheet was focused on the number 2, representative of the sisterly schoolhouse bond. My girls have had heartwarming moments and coldblooded quarrels in this academic year. Tears of all kinds - sorrow, joy, delirium, laughter - have been shared by Mom, Dad, and children. Through it all, the number 2 stands strong. It takes 2 to make a marriage work. It takes 2 to overcome the quarrels and stick together when times get tough. It takes 2 to participate in a camel race. 

The mind-blowing apex of my camel curriculum was a BBC video on how present day, high stakes Arabian camels race. Imagine driving your car on the highway. A caravan of camels is speeding along side of you. You have a handheld radio trying to communicate with your favorite camel. You are still responsible for driving a vehicle. You look insane. Your camel hears you. He has a robot on his hump. You are a jockey in an SUV. You believe your camel can speed up. Lazy camel. Using your electronics, you can activate a whip on the robot. 

It is astonishing. Watch it. Even in the most ancient and remote locations on the planet, technology is taking over. Trying to find balance in the tech boom is not easy. It sometimes feels like I'm running in the middle of a camel caravan, on the verge of getting trampled by technology. I just got to keep my feet moving. Keep my family focused on the positive. Avoid being whipped by robots. 

Could you imagine if the 3 Kings had this option? 

First King: "Listen, I've been riding camels for years, I think its time we send the robots. Also, I think I'm allergic to myrrh."

Second King: "Agreed. If the robot can find the yonder star, I'm going to find the yonder couch."

Third King: "For the love of field and fountain, I don't even know who you guys are anymore"

In honor of robots taking over the world, my girls worked together to complete a color the number art project. The picture, a robot, went from colorless and lifeless to a rainbow symbol of sister power. With the adrenaline pumping, we transitioned to dance to an animated video of "Walk Like A Camel". Our living room became a camel night club. It got wonderfully weird. I hurt my lower back earlier in the week so my camel dances were authentic. My camel walk was not a choice. It was a sign that the sun is setting on my athletic prowess.

But, we all need humbled. Even, Yosemite Sam. Our final lesson of Cambria County Camel Community College was Yosemite Sam riding a camel...with a shotgun. For the record, I am not a certified teacher. Anyway, Sam is commanding his camel to no avail. He starts raging and bopping his poor camel in the brain. Meanwhile, Bugs Bunny is relaxing in a desert swimming pool. Sam is going berserk. His camel runs away. Shots are fired. Bugs laughs in the distance.

2021 is not that far away. This will be my last blog of the year. 6 months ago, I wrote a blog letter to 2020 hoping that the year would ease up. Looking back on it all, there have been many Yosemite Sam moments. Our family has had to wander the desert to find the Bugs Bunny paradise time and time again. 

I don't feel the need to write 2020 an end of the year letter. I just want to say "Thank You". 

And if paradise was easy to reach, then maybe it wouldn't be paradise. Sometimes you have to chew cactus and wash it down with a gallon of gratitude. 

My girls graduated from Animal of the Day School 2020. I'm proud of them. I'm proud of us. 

God Bless America. God Bless Camels. God Bless Robots.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The Better Call

 At some point during 2020 we needed legal advice. Our lives had become a cluster and cyclone of chaos. We lost track of time and maybe our careers and sometimes our children. Bursts of enthusiasm were often followed by waves of disappointment. We tried to explain to our kids what we could not understand ourselves. If time was of the essence, we could not even define the word essence. The utterance of "new normal" was like an eternal hiccup. I, myself, have become vomitus to all that is virtual. 

And then we started binge watching Better Call Saul. The immense mission to get our children to bed was followed by a commitment to Saul Goodman, tormented and imperfect like all of us. While I often write about human connection, faith, family, and shared experience, sometimes you just need a good fictious lawyer. Escapism is the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities. Enter Saul, living in New Mexico, The Land of Enchantment. 

There is an undeniable harshness to what we are experiencing. Connection, faith, family and shared experience have been in a heavyweight fight with isolation, doubt, politics, and separation. And we never thought it would go this many rounds. Never thinking that the next calendar year would still cast this formidable shadow.

So, when I am watching Saul I know I am not making a difference. I'm not doing the world a lick of good watching Goodman. It could be argued I am wasting the time that is allegedly of the essence. I greatly wish to travel to The Land of Enchantment one day but for now I am relegated to recliner and dreaming. It feels safe. The phrase "abundance of caution" has become the nauseating spawn of "new normal". "Oh look honey, New Normal had her baby! She named her Abundance of Caution!" 

But, I think we all need to escape every now and then. We all need exit strategies to endure the unknown. Right now, my wife and I, have invested in Saul. We are on Season 2 and if you spoil anything I will be greatly upset. Let me stay enchanted and may my girls sleep through the night. 

And when they awake, I stand grateful for the sunrise. Am I happy that the Elf is back on the Shelf? No, no I am not. Am I growing impatient and insane? Yes, to impatient. Difficult to determine one's own sanity. 

For now, I'll watch Better Call Saul. I'll believe that there are better days ahead. I am blessed to live where I do with the people that I love. 

Stay strong, Johnstown. Goodnight. 

Nincompoop November

 Each day we try to take a moment and express gratitude. This family practice has occurred at the dinner table, at bedtime, and frankly anytime when opportunity strikes or memory serves. Recently, when asked the "What are you thankful for?"question my 3-year-old said without hesitation and with conviction...

"I am thankful for nincompoops."

And a blog was born. Here is the Top 10 Nincompoop Moments of this November:

#10  Hardhead Hardware

Last week I went to a hardware store to buy light bulbs. This was a welcoming opportunity to illuminate my social life. In 2020, light bulb shopping classifies as a social event. I got to converse with a teenage cashier. He asked me, "Do you want a bag?"  I said "Yes" with a little bit too much enthusiasm, as if I had been cave dwelling and this was my first light bulb. Then, I said something that I immediately regretted. After he bagged my bulbs, I blurted out, "AWESOME!"

Walking out, I was overcome with embarrassment. Did I just give a creepy smile to a high school kid, exclaim "AWESOME" and go on my merry way with fresh light bulbs? 

I was left to wonder what that kid thought of me and what has 2020 done to all of us. 

#9  The Zoom Boom 

On some weekdays, our 5-year-old is zooming from 8 to 10 A.M. Then, my 3-year-old zooms from 10:00 A.M. to 11:00 A.M. Then, my 5-year-old re-zooms at 11:00 A.M. Meanwhile, we, the parents, are attempting to eat/work/live/teach/battle. Our dining room is a minefield of worksheets, folders, crayons, scissors, snacks, passwords, glue sticks, actual sticks, and angst. We also received notice that our 5-year-old is expected to wear her uniform Monday-Thursday for Zoom academia. 

And to that I said profanity. 

#8  Casper Prayers     

At some point this year, we acknowledged that Casper the Friendly Ghost was eating supper with us. Since then, we pretend to hold his hand and allow him to join in giving thanks. 2020, the year of poltergeist prayer. Correction - we don't pretend to hold Casper's hand. We hold Casper's hand. Cold as ice. 

#7  Shawnee Showdown

On a gorgeous November Saturday, our family of four traveled to Shawnee Park in Bedford County. We participated in an impromptu 2-on-2 football game on the sand. Dad and 3-year-old vs. Mom and 5-year-old. There were illegal blocks, false starts, and a hip injury (Mom) that did not require medical attention because there was no one to give medical attention. 

Everyone won. Immediately after, I went for a run and left my ailing wife with our children. Survival of the fittest.  

#6   Bison Boom

On the way home from the Shawnee expedition, we stopped to see bison in Schellsburg. I believe there was a part of each us that wanted to run with the bison. To roam free, free from distancing and disease. Susceptible to trampling or being charged yet free. 

Maybe I was the only one daydreaming union with the bison. 

#5  Gutter Check 

My wife held the ladder while I cleaned the rain gutters. I cleared debris. While executing my task, she asked me if I cleared a path so the rain spout could do its job. I was perturbed by the question. "I'm not up here painting the Sistine Chapel." 

At no point did I say "AWESOME" when cleaning the gutters. 

#4  Gut Check 

My wife and I attended an outdoor mass at Our Mother of Sorrows on a November Sunday. Our children stayed at their grandparents' sanctuary. The sun shined on a socially distanced lawn of Christians. I admired a family of 5 as they prepared for mass. Lawn chairs folding. Conversing. Children crawling on grass. And then, the Dad almost tripped on one of the crawlers. It was a Looney Tunes sequence where the Dad buckled and then did this heroic Dad acrobatics to avoid crushing his offspring. Blindside shot from a toddler. 

I prayed for them and was grateful that our kids were not with us. Amen. 

#3 Sic'em on a Chicken

There is a song by Zac Brown Band called Sic'em on a Chicken. It is a ballad, a power ballad, on the pursuit of a chicken. We've summoned this song in times of need. Under the light of the moon and the warmth of a fire, we danced wildly on our back patio to Sic'em on a Chicken. 

A family of 4 brought to life by a song describing the death of a chicken. 

#2  Zimbabwe 

I have an alter-ego named Professor Diddums. I have been making up educational lessons for my girls since March when the virus hit the fan. I had to step my game back up in November after months of relying on traditional schooling. I was particularly proud of my lesson plan centered on the letter "Z". We learned about zebras, our 12th President Zachary Taylor (was not a Republican or a Democrat), and we each colored the national flag of Zimbabwe. 

Take that Zoom. While you locked us in our house, we learned that Zimbabwe is landlocked. Eat your heart out. 

#1  Happy Thanksgiving 

My 3-year-old does not know what nincompoop means. It is a funny word and who knows where she first heard it. She does have an understanding of what happy means. I hope her growing brain is full of happy moments from 2020. I think we have done our best to emphasize happiness and gratitude. We will Sic'em on a Turkey this Thursday. 

And if the 4 of us are together, I'll be happy. 

Happy Thanksgiving, Johnstown. 

Express gratitude daily - somehow, someway. 

What Counts

One of the breakthrough moments of childhood is learning how to count. In adulthood in the United States of America, we have taken counting to new ridiculous heights. We are counting in-person and by mail and by conspiracy theory and by the hour and getting updates by the hour even when there are no updates to give. Adults are outbabbling toddlers from coast to coast in a sleep deprived annoyance that is all too familiar.  

For the record, The Count, resident of Sesame Street, is the best representative of this great nation. When the 2024 election rolls around, I want The Count Live, counting every single vote. I don't care if it takes 2 days, 2 weeks, or 2 months. He will announce each and every vote with joyous and rhythmic patriotism. With no affiliation and a pure love for counting, there will be no controversy. He just counts. Every network and every website and every social media platform is restricted until The Count is done counting. All eyes and ears on The Count. We don't need opinions, predictions, projections, and red and blue maps. 

Absurd? Considering what has transpired in 2020, I think this is realistic. In fact, it is brilliant if I could highjack mass media, ensure one unbiased voice, and subject the populous to simplicity. 

And if there is one thing kids get right, it is being simple. And if there is one thing adults get wrong, it is being simpletons, which by definition, centers on foolishness.

First, we are all winners today. We all wake up winners tomorrow. We live in the United States. Yes, we are divided, but "our" here is a blessing that bypasses so many adults and strikes so many children. My daughters gleamed over seeing a herd of bison today off of Route 30. Were the bison social distancing? No. Did my 3-year-old want to jump the fence and enter their herbivore world? Yes. 

Kids do not define their existence by a person. Or a party. Or a social media account. At least not at the age of my youngsters. I do fear that Faceplant, Instabook, and TockTic will slowly and painfully eat the innocence of youth like ravenous zombies, but this is Positive Johnstown...we shall overcome!

So, this blog is for the kids too young to read blogs. Too young to give a flying squirrel about what I have to say. Too young for left/right, Democrat/Republican, and anything other than macaroni and cheese. Let the good kids of this earth pee their pants while the grown ups poop on each others' political parties. 

And adults do not need to grow up. They need to go back. Go back to experience. Go back to wonder. Go back to an identity shaped by love and learning. 

But, as the bison graze, "we" will undoubtedly babble and bite each other in the field. And it would be offensive to say that in doing so "we" are acting like children. 

Children are still learning. Let's show them "we", the adults, can still learn too. 

To understand that division is not final. That a President - no singular person - defines us. 

The Count, 2024. 

Count your blessings. 

God Bless America. 

 

Vine Vote

 On a recent nature walk, our family discovered a vine that towered into the October sky. It was rooted in the earth and extended beyond our vision; lost in a mix of branches and clouds. From the trail it was conceivable to grab a hold of this Tarzan swing and entrust momentum and Mother Nature. Dad had to try it first. If anyone is going to plummet into the brush, it is Dad. 

While Pennsylvania has been labeled a swing state, our family has swung beyond the reach of the hoopla and hysteria. I recently had a daydream where the next debate was a 90 minute commercial-free recording of a donkey and an elephant. Literally, a donkey and an elephant in the same room. There would be no moderator and no understandable communication (identical to the first debate). I would add a frog (Green Party) just for leaps and giggles; an hour and a half of watching three animals coexist. Probably would have more educational value. 

The value of the vine has multiplied in recent weeks. We've done some combo swings. My 5-year-old braved the autumn air. My Dad reminisced of vine days gone by and then did the vine himself. I've been mid-air and have had trail walkers stunned to see a flying man of the forest. I've had friends reach out and give it a shot. My wife swung out and then took to social media to spread this seasonal swing. 

Of course, there is danger in all of this - much like anything you do on social media. I'm less concerned about the vine snapping and more concerned about human beings typing, losing their minds, and snapping. My platform is to get off the platform. Grab a hold of the vine and appreciate what each day has to offer. Soul search over fact check. 

And that my friends is an individual decision. I'm grateful to have a mind beyond that of the elephant, donkey, and Kermit. The vine has reopened my world to the innocence and splendor of youth. Health - physical, emotional, mental, spiritual - is what counts. Mother Nature has no party or agenda. Flying Dads can unite with flying squirrels without judgement. 

When my oldest daughter completed her first vine adventure, it was just me and her little sister on that trail watching with pride. At the peak of her airborne excitement, she gave us a miraculous smile. I'll hold on to that image for as long as I can. She has grown into a tremendous young lady in a year full of the tiresome and the old. Together - a young lady and the vine - they are the hope. A generation of youngsters who will shape the landscape with wonder and wisdom, out of sight much like that vine lost in the clouds. 

With Halloween and the election closing in, there is a lot to be scared of from poltergeist to presidential. To Johnstown and to the world at-large, I encourage you to not zombie walk into November. Find a vine. 

Reach out and make a memorable experience. Surround yourself with good people. Take time to smile and laugh. Be grateful for the smiles and laughs that swing back in your direction.