Back to The Blog 2024

 After a lengthy hiatus from the blogosphere, I have triumphantly returned to spread goodness. I am now a 40-year-old writer full of increased wisdom, wit, and self-depricating humor. During my time off from writing, I fell off the front stoop taking out the garbage cans, traveled to Hawaii and Kansas (not the same trip for my geographically challenged readers), and have grown a well-manicured, silvered beard. Or as one grandma put it, "you look like a Civil War reenactment". 

Bless her heart. 

In order to reengage the Internet population and build off my 1860s appearance, let's travel to three basics terrains of community. 

LAND

On this Memorial Day weekend Sunday, a simple message from mass was the hope for a "long life on the land". In our society, 40 is recognized as a turning point birthday that comes with victory and defeat. For every garbage can fall into the grass there is a Hawaii rainbow. I was able to experience both of those moments before I hit "The Big 4-0" and I would like to believe I benefited from the triumph and the tragedy. The Hawaii rainbow is captured in a picture with my beautiful daughters underneath it. The garbage can fall was captured by our security camera. Instead of warding off vandals or identifying trespassing critters, our video surveliance system's greatest use has been repeatedly watching a Monday morning Dad collapse taking out the trash. A truly epic fail that has made so many people laugh and one man acknowledge, thy prime has thy past. 

Alas, I am back on my feet and was back on the course for the 10th edition of The Path of the Flood race this Saturday. I purchased new New Balance shoes for the event. I do not understand how anyone buys shoes online. If there was video surveliance watching me trying on running shoes, it would be a tough watch, but I believe it is necessary. I start out excited, move to confused, retry on shoes as if something changed in the past 30 seconds, and I ultimately get really hot. It is almost more challenging than the race itself. During this one-man Shakespearean shoe play, a friendly teenage worker came back around to ask me "Are you still ok?!?!" clearly identifying I was taking the running shoe purchase to a Death Valley extreme. 

Ultimately, I unconfidently bought a pair of New Balance Tektrels that have the slogan "Revel in The Magnificent Outdoors" inside the shoe. This is an ingenious marketing strategy to reel in the 40-year-old Dad. 

New Balance Shoe Designer #1:  "The Tektrel has a great exterior, but how do we grab the Dads' attention?!?"

New Balance Shoe Designer #2:  "What is on the inside? The part no one can see, except the foot, and the Dad."

New Balance Shoe Designer #1: "Nothing right now..."

New Balance Shoe Designer #2: "What if we wrote 'Revel in the Magnificent Outdoors'?!?"

New Balance Shoe Designer #1:  "Brilliant. Every Dad from the trail runner to the grass cutter is going to freak out."

(End Scene)

In 2022, I did the 8-Mile Run for the Path of the Flood. In 2023, I took a year off because our family of four was traveling to Hawaii two days after the race and I did not want to be sore on the plane. That is responsible parenting. You're welcome, kids. 2024, 8-miles once more, no need to fear the sore. 

Each and every year the Path of the Flood has been a remarkable success thanks to great race direction, dedicated volunteers, and a running community willing to flow like the water. The Staple Bend Tunnel is transformed into a racing cathedral as candles provide a tranquil beam with a sunburst exit into the forest. And then you exit the tunnel, and as one runner summarized, "it is hell from there". Hills and a shadeless landscape to end the race make the outdoor reveling a much more difficult tagline to embrace.

The race ends where my marriage began. In 2013, my wife and I had the first wedding reception at Peoples Natural Gas Park. 11 years into marriage, the celebration continues - as a couple who is grateful for a wonderful hometown community. While she finds running to be punishing and stress inducing, it is a cathartic, cardiovascular mission for this man. An opposition attraction when it comes to running yet a unified belief that supporting local events is our responsibility. Blessed to call Johnstown home and determined to be goodwill ambassadors for the place that will always be a part of us. Great job once again to all the Path of the Flood leaders and volunteers. 

And on Satuday night we participated in another event celebrating YEAR 10. Before she brought two children into existence, my wife helped bring life to an idea known as Taste and Tour. 10 years later, it has become synoymous with Memorial Day Saturday and perfectly paired with the morning's racing event. Each year it gets bigger, sells out, and has become a battle cry for downtown Johnstown. My wife plays the role of General. I am the supportive husband who looks like he fought in Gettsyburg. Match made in Johnstown /Heaven. 

Thanks to all the buisnesses, volunteeers, tasters, and tourers - you are all champions. I hope everyone smoked a cigar Saturday night like they were the 4th place male in the 35 to 44 year old age bracket. 

AIR

In April, we flew to Kansas City, Missouri to visit friends we met in Johnstown. They, a military family, had a brief stay in our hometown yet a lifelong friendship was built inside a church, on trails, in parks, and raising kids one adventure at a time. Our reunions since have taken us to the beach, the Virginia wilderness, and a Kansas farmland. It is amazing how faith and family have no geographic bounds. 

In July, the next airborne adventure will be upon us. Our Kansas City comrades are not on this highly anticipated journey, but two other Johnstown families make up our brigade.  Six parents. Seven children. Alaska, HERE WE COME. 

My daughters are in full support that my beard will be grown fully and magically until we get home from The Last Frontier. Then, upon our return, I will shave it completely and look like a runner who could get 4th place in the under 20 age divison. My wife is more scared of the upcoming shave than the accumulating silver. We all have our crosses to bear. 

SEA

I have not cataloged my "days on water per month" but May 2024 has been aqua advantageous. Four separate embarks on the Stony Creek River this May have yielded water wonderful results. Twice as a canoeist, once on a raft mission to pick up riverside pollutants, and a final family float courtesy of Coal Tubin'. I have canoed the Everglades and the Suwannee River, have tandem kayaked in Canada, have gator toured the Lousiana bayou, and have whitewater rafted West Virginia, but there is something special about having a hometown waterway to explore. 

My wife and I got to experience this year's Stony Creek Rendezvous, an annual tribal trip for whitewater enthusiasts to gather @ Greenhouse Park and throw a Mother Nature party. Our connection this year was via a stewardship event organized by the Watersmith Guild, which sounds majestic and medieval all at once. The guild's website proclaims a mission "to inspire watershed conservation and improve lives through arts and adventure programming."  That mission was absolutely accomplished on the third Friday of this May as dozens of volunteers worked together - to plant riverside trees and then complete a paddle-pick-up of riverbank trash in a coordinated conquest. There was community camaderie in that purposeful paddle. Thanks to my Stony Creek squadron who seized that day. 

Flanking that adventure were my canoe trips that featured everything from a bald eagle sighting to my partner canoeist proclaiming, "We are capsizing!"  Mallards and mayhem on the mighty Stony Creek produced hearty laughs, adrenaline pumps, and an appreciation for our neighborhood's Great Outdoors river. This all led to our family Coal Tubin' this Memorial Day Sunday.

Joining our family of four was my father-in-law in a float for the ages. We started out as an interconnected tube team as this was our daughters first go at the river wild. The Stony Creek sparked my eldest's curiosity as she fired up her motor mouth the minute her toes touched the water. Shortly after the first rapids, I left her to the forces of Nature and her mother. I took her younger sister with me, who proceeded to fall asleep, my angel in a life vest. My youngest was a model of serenity while my oldest dared to ask me "what 365 times 9 is?" at one point trying to pinpoint her currrent days on Earth. 

I sharply answered, "I hate math".

Along our route, the differences between my daughters could not have been more dramatic. One was going to talk us off a cliff while the other would have snoozed over Niagra Falls. One's body could not stop moving, treating the rafts like bumper boats. At the same time, her sister was slipping into an incredible Zen, a bobbing redhead glistening in the sun. I love them both and always will. 

I will always hate math. 

But I cannot end the first blog back with hate. I love to write. I love my family. I am grateful for my faith, friends, and the fellowship that has traveled on land, air, and sea with so many great people to some many great places. 

And yet there is nothing like coming home. 

Positive Johnstown blog is back. Spread good news and keep your head above water. 

(Editor's Note: 365 x 9 = 3,285)

Awesome Autumn Top 10

 This autumn has been awesome. Here is a colorfully worded Top 10 for the season:

#10: Fantastic Fall Foliage

Only one season is known for its foliage. No one says the word "foliage" outside of fall. Stranger danger if you here "spring foliage". This autumn has been a red, orange, and yellow treetop burst. 90% of my ancient Iphone's pictures over the last two months are of my daughters and/or fall foliage. The other 10% of the pictures are photos taken when my daughters gain unauthorized use of my cell phone - this robber photography is for all seasons and will not be tolerated.  

#9: Marvelous Music

On the 3rd Friday of October, our family adventured to Ryan's Artisan Goods for a soulful Spanish musical performance. Atayay Robles played some original tunes while our family of four nourished our bodies with pizza. My 7-year-old daughter and I Crayola colored while rhythmically moving to the beat. I had two years of high school Spanish. She has just begun dabbling in the language; thus, we were on a level translation playing field. 

A day later, my wife and I attended the final concert in a series atop Bottle Works. The Evergreens entertained the crowd with their music and by playing that music as a duo from 1988, the year Beetlejuice was released. Beetlejuice drummed, Lydia sang, and we enjoyed a night out without our precious children. 

#8: Incredible Ice Hockey

After Atayay's calming musical numbers, we transitioned to the barbaric world of minor league hockey. It was a Friday night of soul and violence. My 7-year-old was shot out of a cannon excited to watch the Johnstown Tomahawks. My 5-year-old was initially shot out of the same cannon and then passed out before the 3rd period started. Up 1-0 in the 3rd, the home team was in good position. Then, hockey went haywire. Fluke goal, shorthanded goal, powerplay goal. Down 3-1. Then, it was 3-2. Then 4-2. Then 4-3. Then a final minute where fans screamed, young men roughed each other up in the corner of a skating rink, one lady stayed dedicated to her cowbell, and my youngest daughter slobbered on my shoulder. A symphony of screams and a gentle snore. A hockey night in Johnstown. 

#7: Great Golf 

Any golf in October is great. Any month of the year I golf, it is mediocre. Birdies are rare, pars are earned, bogeys are common. Beyond bogeys are more common than birdies. An advantage to autumn golf is that you can always stop searching for your ball and just admire the fall foliage. 

"I'll take a penalty stroke. Can you believe how colorful that maple is!?" (take picture)

#6: Power Punch Parades

The Fort Ligonier Days parade always has something to spice up the experience. This year we stumbled upon Sugar Frills, an entreprenurial mind blow. Cotton candy with Pop Rocks?  Is that street legal? We actually know the owners of this ambitious undertaking so we obviously had to buy this weapon of mass destruction for our kids. It was wildly entertaining to watch the cotton candy grow and to see Pop Rocks gently patterned on top, like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Our daughters' eyes grew with anticipation. The eyes of the parents grew in fear. Dentists revolted. 

On the way home from the parade, the girls crashed hard in the Subaru. Thank you Sugar Frills for instilling joy and inducing naps. 

Ten days later, the Johnstown Halloween parade required more cardio and less sugar rush. I was the only member of our family not walking in the parade as one of the Girl (Ghoul) Scouts. My job was to gain righteous curbside position and drink a hot chocolate from Flood City Cafe. Mission accomplished. 

My ghouls were at the beginning of the parade, thus we got to enjoy much of the spectacle together once we were reunited. One boisterous young boy demanded that every passing vehicle beep. He would have been arrested if it were not a parade. The only aggression shown to this boy was by a maniac with a chainsaw, another parade stunt you cannot pull off in daily living - approaching a child in a threatening manner with a mechanically-powered cutting tool. 

Never operate a chainsaw while eating Pop-Rocks cotton candy. 

#5: Phenomenal Fest

Stone Bridge Brewing's 2022 Oktoberfest was held on a perfectly crisp Saturday. Seasonal libations, German cuisine, and fall fellowship ruled the day. The end of Franklin Street transformed into a tented community of adulting. Parents told stories about their children, grateful the children were not present to interrupt. When children did come in close proximity, all parents without their kids thought or said "I'm so glad my kids aren't here".

#4: Excellent Education 

A gang of Girl Scouts attended a Stackhouse Park hike that concluded with Mother Nature's greatest gift - candy. All hikers roamed the Earth and learned about trees. Some scouts did more roaming than listening. There are hunters. There are gathers. And there are frolickers. We are all community members and it was a great day to be in the wilderness. 

For the Trick-or-Treat portion of the event, I was one of the candy passer outers. I may or may not have taken an Almond Joy for myself.

#3: Radiant Reptile

On a Wednesday night in October, I took a brigade of women to watch Lyle, Lyle Crocodile @ Westwood Plaza Theatre. I've always been a proponent of watching singing/dancing animals as a stress-reliever. The motion picture industry has time and time again relied on a range of communicating creatures to light up the screen. Thanks to Lyle for a fun loving musical message - sing your heart out and show love to your family. 

#2: Brillant Boneyard

Every Halloween downtown Johnstown's Central Park is staged as the Park Boneyard. A plot of the park is dedicated to death and dancing. A setlist is played by skeletons and zombies appearing on a screen while choregraphed torches flash fire into the autumn air. Our girls stand right up against the rope and we give them their space to enjoy the show. Standing behind them, my wife and I say sentimental things like, "Look how big they are getting" and "we are blessed". 

Shortly after that one of us says, "Touch that rope one more time we are going home." 

or "I'm NOT putting you on my shoulders."

or "THAT'S ENOUGH!" (reader's pick for the behavior that must stop).

#1: Triple Terrific Trick-or-Treat

The Stackhouse Park stroll was just the beginning of our candy circuit. The Community Treat @ Penn Highlands Community College was a smashing and spooky success. The college's employees and volunteers provided an extensive and well-executed Haunted Hallway, craft cafeteria, and trick-or-treat route. We took a picture of our girls with the giant black bear statue to commemorate the event, a traditional photo-op any time we are at Penn Highlands. Bravo Bear and Bear keepers, a heck of a haunt. 

Days later, we attended the Halloween Hullabaloo @ the Johnstown Heritage Discovery Center. Heckofaboo Round 2! This candy craving event included a map if you were brave enough to cross Broad Street. Local businesses were prepared for candy monsters and we made our presence known. In Cambria City Flowers and Brigid's Cross Religious and Spiritual Treasures, we played the time-honored game of "Don't Touch Anything".  A witch came out of the Ryan's Artisan Goods kitchen to provide treat bags. I was hoping for an eyeball stew, but there is always next year. 

Once we got all our map stamps, we headed to Island Cuisine for a hearty meal (no eyeballs). When initially crossing Broad Street we actually stopped at this new restaurant first, got a stamp of approval, and vowed to return. And I am glad we did. Jerk chicken, collared greens, mac-n-cheese, and more hit the spot. We even got a taste test of goat. That's some great goat. I'll never forget the Halloween surprise of my 5-year-old closing her eyes and loving her some goat. 

Pounds heavier, we darted back across Broad Street to participate in the rest of the Discovery Center madness. There were 2nd floor games with my favorite being the putting contest into a pumpkin. I also enjoyed pretending to be a dead man and fishing partner of the skeleton on the 3rd floor boat (classic Dad move..."Honey, take a picture!")

One more Trick-or-Treat scheduled for tomorrow night. Alive, well, and ready for one more route as a family. 

A big thanks to the entire community for making autumn awesome! Happy Halloween!

A Storybook Summer

From an astrological point of view, there are a few days left in the 2022 summer; however, academia and Pumpkin Spiced Latte traditionally crown the arrival of autumn in late August. Any way I seasonally slice it, this summer has been a smashing success. I'll start in spring...

In May, our family of four boarded a plane to Utah. A postponed 2020 wedding anniversary trip was repackaged as a "take your kids to the mountains" extravaganza. Not only did we conquer The Beehive State, we pioneered into Wyoming and Idaho. This westward expansion expedition set the stage for a big time 2022 summer. 

If the 2020 and 2021 summers had limitations or restrictions, the 2022 summer responded with a dynamite blast of free range bigness. I believe my children evolved into more versatile explorers because of the pandemic, so in a weird way, I am grateful for that wacky era of their childhood. Rough and tough moments on the frontier shaped character. For every moment of madness our family had a breakthrough response of gratitude. The purple mountain majesty of the Utah skyline was the the grateful pinnacle for this Dad. 

When we returned to Pennsylvania, school was winding down and summer glory was on the horizon. The blur of the season took us as far south as Virginia for our annual family beach vacation and as far north as Canada. Yes, my wife and I left our children behind for a weekend to attend a wedding in Canada, a border bonkers itinerary that included getting my passport renewed in Detroit the day of the wedding. It was an International Lampoon vacation that will go down as one of the most absurd adventures in our history. Thank you grandparents for protecting our young while we danced feverishly in Canada. 

On the homefront, Stackhouse Park continued to be a consistent community connector. The final Sunday of August attracted a wide variety of human life to Mother Nature for the growing phenomenon known as Art in the Park. Wilderness, art, music, grub, and libations all packaged together near a grassy knoll. I ran the arduous 5K that morning in Stackhouse to ensure no Dad guilt upon devouring the grub. I sprawled out on that knoll post-race and fed my face. Mission accomplished. 

 Art in the Park gets bigger and better each year and the 2022 event was special as it ushered in the newest Stackhouse attraction, Johnstown StoryWalk. This recently designed trail gives familes cardiovascular literary power - a walk-and-read concept snuggly south of the park's play area. My daughters got to be a part of the ribbon cutting ceremony. This was after about 5+ hours of Art in the Park family frolicking, so emotions were running a little high. It took some convincing to read and walk, but we survived.  From the Utah mountains to our backyard park, we just gotta keep climbing. Special thanks to the John B. Gunter Leadership Initiative for bringing stories to life in Stackhouse Park for years to come. 

And while everything written above I consider to be epic, there might have been no greater singular achievement than last week when my 7-year-old daughter caught a hot dog. It was tossed by an Altoona Curve employee. He stood on a dugout. She stood on an invisible cloud of excitement. He looked her dead in the eyes and released a targeted hot dog toss, the tin foil glistening in the galaxy. Her reaction to a clean snag was priceless. A free hot dog. The happiest damn 7-year-old on Planet Earth. Thanks Altoona Curve, you put on a great show. 

On this past Saturday night, we sat out on our balcony and relived the Utah trip - a little trivia from a big adventure goneby. The stories will live on and more adventures will come. Johnstown as home base is a blessing. 

Share an experience and pass on a positive story. 

Welcome, Autumn. See you in 2023, Summer. 

Midsummer Parenting Top 10

 The midsummer parent is unique to the season. Here is my Top 10 on the trials and tribulations of raising young in the heat of it all:

#10: Roomtime

Once the school year is over, the concept of bedtime evolves from a structured sequence of events to watching America's Got Talent until everyone falls asleep on the couch. At some point, the midsummer parent declares "It is time to go to your room."  Our daughters share slumber chambers, so they can travel together. We are not even suggesting that you need to go to bed. We just want you both in one geographic location that gives you the luxury of a bed if you choose to lay upon it. And it cannot be our bedroom because it is ours. Enjoy the Central Air and we will see you at sunrise. 

#9: Water Cleansing 

The midsummer parent can justify why a shower is not needed today. You swam all day? That will work. You ran through the sprinkler? Refreshed by me. You watered the flowers and your feet at the same time? That will do. It is 9:43 PM? Roomtime. 

#8: Pizza

My wife found an Internet proverb that surmised that children once believed Friday pizza nights were because their parents wanted to have a fun tradition. The children now realize it was because their parents were tired. And in midsummer, Fridays seem to happen more often. Like on Tuesdays. 

And Thursdays. 

And definitely Saturdays. 

And Mondays if anyone is open. 

#7: Sunscreen Scavenger Hunt 

In our family, SPF 55 is everywhere - under the sink, on the kitchen floor, maybe behind a shrub in the front yard. Sometimes we like to have a bottle marinate in the Subaru. Nothing like applying magma hot SPF 55 on a midsummer day. I know it looks like a heavy coat of white paint, but it will wash off in the pool. We will ask you, "Did you put on more sunscreen? every hour until the sun goes down. The midsummer parent usually takes responsibility for the first coat and then it is up to someone else. 

"Can someone get my back?!?!?" (everyone in the family)

#6: Coffee

A midsummer parent sometimes thinks or says aloud, "It is too damn hot for coffee." And about 8 seconds later, he or she takes that first glorious morning sip. Sure, it is humid and you are sweating, but you deserve this moment. My wife recently asked me if I wanted Island Coconut K-Cups on Amazon, or maybe it was from the Amazon... The only issue was that they only come in a bulky 96 count. 

I asked what the issue was.

All 96 were delivered by the next day...

By canoe. 

#5: Lemonade

It is important that a midsummer parent provide nourishment to growing kids. Lemonade falls under fruit and is directly under the pizza peak of the pyramid. 

#4: Passport 

A midsummer parent gets invited to a wedding in Canada. He strategizes how to pull this off from childcare logistics to travel itinerary to ensuring he meets Covid standards to acquiring Canadian money. He and his wife devise a bulletproof plan, a majestic midsummer getaway.

The man's passport is expired. He now watches Youtube videos on how to achieve passport renewal in an urgent situation. It is 5:45 AM, 82 degrees, and the Island Coconut tastes less tropical. 

Dad is an idiot. 

#3: Coin Counting     

A midsummer parent might start cashing in coins. There was a coin shortage at one point, everything is expensive, and children can learn that every penny counts. Some Dads separate all the pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, and the "what the hell is this?!?" currency. They show their kids how you have to package coins into tightly wrapped cylinders and then be proud of your work. 

Then, Mom calls the bank and they have a machine that you just dump all the change into and get cold hard cash. 

Dad is an idiot. 

And is sweating. 

#2: Flip Flop Minefield     

Midsummer is the height of flip flop treachery. They are everywhere, being tripped upon on a daily basis. Most midsummer parents who trip on a poorly placed flip-flop either kick it, don't even realize they just tripped, or protect their coffee. Missing flip flop reports go out on a weekly basis. A lost yellow flip-flop could be found in the car after 72 hours of no one really caring. Sock laundry numbers are way down. The closest thing to a shoe is a Croc and that's an acceptable alternative for almost anything - scootering, playground play, climbing a mountain. 

#1: Midsummer Memories

The midsummer parent is young at heart. He or she understands the thrill of summer does not last forever. Soak it in and reapply. Sunrise to sunset, a blessed time to be a parent. 

"IT IS TIME TO GO TO YOUR ROOM!" (scary screaming midsummer parent)

Dance Dad Top 10

This past Saturday I attended a dance recital as a ferocious father. My oldest daughter was just one girl in a small army of Legacy Performing Arts Center dancers. I was just one Dad taking it all in. Without further ado, my Top 10:

#10: Snacks

There is nothing that calms a Dad's nerves like popcorn and Sour Patch kids. I had anxious Dad energy entering into the recital domain; a fish out of water surrounded by prancing piranhas. My 5-year-old and I strategized to snack hard out of the gates. Who knows, this performance could be as long as The Lord of the Rings. The anticipation was building as we each avoided the Yellow Sour Patch children. 

#9: Fellow Dads

Scanning the auditorium, I found comfort in Dad spotting - men who look more suited for the golf course, basketball court, or forest. We were scattered, flanked by family and friends more educated on the art of dance. We have a basic set of skills - clap, keep kids in aisle, escort to bathroom, open snacks, use firm eyes if needed, pick up snacks that land on floor, enforce 5-second-rule, smile and wave, state "No more snacks".

#8: Milk and Cereal

I knew at some point in my life I would be watching a bunch of girls dancing to the lyrical wonder that is "Milk and Cereal". "I don't want my Wheaties, Give em' to the needy"...genius. Unfortunately, the concession stands did not have bowls of cereal for sale. Always next year...

#7: Strawberry Fields

There was a hypnotic nature to this number. Lyrically, no idea what is going on. Dancing, no idea what I was watching. BUT, I liked it. And our family crushes strawberries, not from a field...from Aldi. My wife could write a remix called "Forever Aldi".

#6: Sugar, Sugar

Timely performance after we finished our Sour Patch Kids. Vegetable, Vegetable does not have the same power punch. Parents can all agree that cute little girls dancing to Sugar, Sugar is precious. Parents can also agree that children with too much sugar, sugar is a nightmare. 

#5:Intermission 

At the halfway point of this countdown, we have intermission. I remember when I saw Les Miserables in New York City. I was in 8th grade and I was flabbergasted when intermission was announced. "We can't have 50% more", I bellowed in puberty hell. I dreamed a dream and this wasn't it. The Legacy intermission - welcoming and gave parents social interaction. Almost in unison, all Dads asked if anyone had to pee.

#4: Blueberry Pie

If you have not figured it out yet, all the music was dedicated to food. This Bette Midler beat features the line, "Blueberry Pie, let's have fun, 'cause when all is said and done, I love you, yes I do..."  As a dance recital analyst, I dig deep into lyrics. In 1980 was Better Midler in a relationship with a pie? In 2022, am I taking this Dance Dad thing too far? 

I love blueberry pie. 

#3: The Gummy Bear Song 

I do not love Gummy Bears. This is one of the worst songs in the history of music...BUT those precious little girls! They took a horrendous song about a subpar candy and made a dancing masterpiece!

#2: The Grand Finale

The final performance was awesome. The audience was told it was going to get weird and it was super awesome weird. There were dancing avocados. It rained tacos. There were full grown adults in taco costumes. There was glorious acting and dancing by a cast of characters who deserve a lot of credit.  That troop of girls - the whole Legacy crew - put a lot of time, energy, and talent into the show. The final cuisine was delicious. 

#1: Green Onions

My 7-year-old's one and only number was Green Onions...AND it was my favorite!. It was my favorite because one day she will read this as a teenager and she will thank me for making her #1. She will appreciate my support for her, no matter what she wants to do with her life. She will realize that I am not an idiot, and making her #1 on this blog was a crafty Dad move. 

Thank you, Legacy Performing Arts Center - for the dedication, the memory, and the food cravings.

 

Good Days

The word "old' has squeezed its way between good days with generational consistency. Each generation has a way of looking back and describing a time when things were better; or at least one believes that things were better. The old bad days surely existed yet they rarely attract an audience. If you are fortunate enough to live a long life, there is a hope that you can look back fondly; recall goodness from yesteryear. That's pretty much this blog's intent - to capture some goodness that eventually will be days of old. 

In 1990, I was a co-founder of a lemonade stand meaning I was a 6-year-old who had to walk across the street to the neighbor's house, smile, and stand behind a table. There is entrepreneurial power associated with lemonade sales that has stood the test of time. There is no bad lemonade stand. Children customer service for potent yellow or pink sugar liquid is golden. In 2022, ambitious kids and kids at heart popped up a stand. 

This stand was special because the founding members of that 1990 stand were once again behind the table, 32 years later. A different neighborhood, a different generation, the same lemonade magic. Our collective kids (7 in total), blended marketing and antics for 3+ hours of business. I got to relive glory days with my old neighbors while my kids experienced lemonade glory in their neck of the woods. Glorious all around. The Brownstown community responded generously and graciously to the cause. The memory made will surely outlast the money. 

The following afternoon, my girls took to another stand - on the baseball field for the Johnstown Mill Rats. As part of their choir, Inclined to Sing, they belted out the National Anthem. It was a harmonious home run on a sunny afternoon. On that same field many sunrises before, I ran wild in parochial football majesty. Goosebumps pride watching my daughters sing and remembering pigskin pageantry. 

Watching Mill Rats baseball was enjoyable as youngsters played America's pastime sport. My eldest daughter retook the field in the 7th inning for a dental promotion - she cleaned third base with a gigantic toothbrush. This was the most thrilling dental work of her 7-year-old life. Thanks to the Mill Rats for providing Sunday afternoon entertainment. 

That evening we sat out on the Boulevard Grill deck, toasting to our weekend achievements. We have had many celebrations at this Southmont institution and now get to enjoy The Great Outdoors from their new perch. Same great food and service, new view. 

There is a belief that good news travels fast. Let's just keep it moving without worrying about speed. The kids will grow up fast enough. Us adults can benefit from slowing it down. Sip on some lemonade and let these good times roll.  

Our Sensational Saturday

The transition from 2021 to 2022 was full of tremendous community experiences; however, I was in literary hibernation. Bogged down, blogged down. Alas, a sensational springtime Saturday to burst back on that worldwide web. 

It is a Saturday I have spoken about and written about many times before. The Memorial Day weekend Saturday in downtown Johnstown has beautifully ballooned in recent years, thanks in large part to a volunteer and small business brigade. My wife, master and commander of our household, also serves on that volunteer frontline while captaining a small business (and serves as unpaid editor to this blog). In her free time, she sometimes sleeps. 

When Memorial Day Saturday arrives, my wife puts on her Taste and Tour hardhat and I lace up my running shoes. The sun rises and we feel a communal adrenaline rush. The 8-mile challenge in the Path of the Flood Historic Races is how I respond to that rush. Each winter, I question whether I will be able to run 8 miles by May and then I will my credit card number into this machine. 

Riding on the school bus to the Staple Bend tunnel, I was united with the racing community that I am grateful to be a part of. Like always, my mind starts racing before my feet. The thought of Texan children who will never get this chance; images of my daughters on the move - running, laughing, screaming, and adventuring up-down and all-around; channeling my inner-kid kinetic energy while filtering through fatherhood brain. Inspired, I get off the bus to conquer miles and divide up those inspirations. 

Then, I bolted back to the bus. Emotional brain waves = forgot my car keys on board. I was the Dad who sprinted from the Porta-Potty to the bus for a race warmup.  Nothing like a pee-your-pants wind sprint before an 8-miler. Why do I run with my car keys? Because I am a Dad and I feel more secure with them on my person. Leave me alone. 

The race's rolling start was a 2021 Covid preventative measure that continued in this year's campaign. This means that runners do not have to all start together; race bibs, a mat, and computers capture individual start times and finishes. It prevents stampeding /herding out of the gates and it provides uncertainty on how you stack up with your competitors. For the ultra-competitive, this is probably maddening. For the mildly-competitive, this is fine. With a light rain falling, I lone-wolfed my way across the start line. 

After the race, fellow mildly-competitive runners questioned my race tactics. You run long distances with no music? Are you a psychopath? I listen to Mother Nature. I do not work. I do not parent. I do not stress. I just run. If it sound psychotic to you, then lunacy it is. I am the conductor of my cranium's circus music. It is my personal therapy alongside my community and it only gets better - and harder - with age. 

When I crossed the finish line, it was instant gratification in that sea of finishers. The race director got on the microphone and asked the crowd to look around. It is the crowd that makes the race what it is. There is no celebration or comradery without each other. Family and friends gather to toast, relive the race that was, and discuss the day ahead. 8:30 AM and grandeur accomplished and then envisioned. Thanks to those who dedicate time and energy to make the Path of the Flood a smashing spring success. 

Onward to the farm. In a stunning turn of events, my 5-year-old graduated on Thursday only to have a finale field trip scheduled for Saturday afternoon. My leg muscles shrieked in unison at the barnyard - a chicken coop cool down. The youngsters got to plant pumpkin seeds, pot flowers, and learn about life on a farm. A gracious family - with twins in the preschool program - welcomed the class on this excursion. I had a daydream where I was a farmer and had twins. It centered on me having no idea what to do. 

The Geneva Preschool experience has been one of the greatest blessings of my journey as a Dad. Our daughters thrived in a creative and nurturing environment that reinforced faith, family, and community engagement. In a turbulent health crisis, the teachers were phenomenal - more relentless than the virus, they taught us parents a thing or two. Creativity and humor is ageless. Restrictions do not have to limit insight. Music plays beyond any barriers. Thanks to a teaching triple threat - Mrs. Kane, Mrs. Mood, and Mrs. Curry. Phenomenal dedication and leadership that served as a foundation for our girls and for many grateful Johnstown families. 

By the time I stepped foot downtown for Taste and Tour, my steps were well into double digit miles. Imagine hunters and gathers learning about us pampered folk who "count steps". To the pioneers, purely preposterous. I never have counted steps. I don't even listen to music when I run. I'm a modern day barbarian with a good old-fashioned Timex watch.

Five solid hours of tasting and touring was a delightful and dynamic recipe. 700 tickets sold out in minutes for one night of downtown glory. The weather cooperated as the businesses boomed. A crisscrossing community patterned the streets as music decorated the town. I gratefully walked side-by-side with my wife, proud of her hard work and the community she so intensely loves. My walk was equally intense due to gradual tightness. A militaristic gait was not in honor of our troops. It was in response to muscular grief. 

Alas, we made it home. My Dad picked us up. When in doubt, call Dad. For now, I don't want my daughters to have phones, so save the calls for later in life. Get yourself a Timex. Don't worry about your steps. Be a kid. There is nothing better. Love the land and learn from it. I am no farmer, but appreciate the sunrises and salute the sunsets. Never stop learning. Be grateful to teachers. Race on. When your legs get tired, rely on your head and heart. The music need not stop.

The blog is back. 

Thanks, Johnstown.