Dad Movie Review: Ron's Gone Wrong

 On the second Saturday of this November, my girls and I watched the first snowfall. A gentle howl of wind captured jumbo flakes. From our dining room window, we stared at these snow swirls. My 4-year-old gleefully stepped out onto the porch. She shimmied around as if she was in her own snow globe. She reentered our home energized and finished breakfast. 

Hours later, our family of four ventured to Westwood Plaza Theatre with special guest, my mother. The matinee of our day was Ron's Gone Wrong, an animated adventure in a technological age. Zach Galifianakis voices Ron, a robot that puts into question the ways in which we connect...and more importantly the way kids are losing connection. The connection thief - screens. 

Ron's Gone Wrong is a film that would not have resonated a generation ago. If my grandfather were alive and in attendance, he probably would have pulled a handgun out of his jacket and put an end to the movie. This absurd premise deserves a pistol. Much like Wreck it Ralph and Big Hero 6, Ron's Gone Wrong challenges the audience to weave in and out of the technological forces that rule our day. To us humans of 2021, absurdity it is not. 

The story ultimately is about friendship between Ron and a boy named Barney. No spoiler here, yet I will contend that the bot and the boy most came alive in one place - the wilderness. That was my takeaway as I ran home from Westwood Plaza Theatre. I waved goodbye to my mother, wife, and daughters. There is nothing like being inspired by a kid's movie and abandoning your family in a parking lot. 

I ran through the streets of Westmont and entered into Stackhouse Park. The leafy trails and rocky terrain made for their own theatre - Hero Dad trying not to face plant (I fell once on Whispering Trail and have a sore left palm...HERO DAD. Shhh, don't tell anyone).

As I hurdled fallen trees and blasted beyond branches, I thought of Ron and Barney playing in the woods; about my 4-year-old trying to catch snowflakes in her mouth; about my 6-year-old's Girl Scout hike in this park a day earlier. The unrivaled connection that Mother Nature provides. 

When I got home, my shoes were joyously muddy. In those few miles back to base, I thought about all my years in Stackhouse; of adventures gone by; of adventures ahead with my daughters. I had not blogged since early summer. Technology (film) inspired me to wilderness and back to technology (computing). Connected some dots powered by electricity and ecology - family and friends generate true power. 

As I bring this blog to a close, my 4-year-old is taking a nap. She crashed hard post-movie. After doing some living room sprints where she repeatedly rocketed into the couch and laughed wildly, she needed to reboot.  

I'd like to believe she is dreaming, catching an endless flurry of snowflakes. A big smile. A hearty laugh. 

Summer Wonderland

 The word combo "endless summer" has resonated for decades. It was a documentary title, a Beach Boys album, and a youthful hope not to return to academia. We break, beach, and bask in summer. From solstice to bummer, it is an emotional gauntlet of a season - often going shockingly quick. We question where the time has gone as if we were victims to calendar thievery. July does a fly by. Thus, we must eat up the August sunshine. Before we know it, we will be in embattled September - a month that mostly claims summer yet sometimes feels all fall. 

This is my first official blog of the 2021 summer. I have not taken the time to type simply because summer has demanded my presence. And after the time warp that was 2020 to Spring 2021, our family has shot out of an activity cannon, swimming, splashing, and scootering back into the mainstream.  

To fully appreciate 2021, our family had to travel back to 1865. Yes, it was 156 years ago when Lewis Carroll authored Alice in Wonderland, arguably the greatest literary nonsense of all-time. The bizarre nature of our modern times goes quite nicely with this rabbit hole. Inside the Community Arts Center of Cambria County on the last Friday of this July, we had a mad and wonderful experience. Two outstanding young ladies performed a 45-minute tour-de-force, capturing the nuttiness of a classic novel.

Bright Star Touring Theatre, a North Carolina based production, adventured to Westmont, treating dozens of kids and adults to Alice's antics. My 6-year-old and 4-year-old girls are captivated by live theatre, having attended multiple local plays and musicals over the years. Their mother usually has led these conquests. Their father usually is doing heroic things like cutting the grass, golfing, or blogging during showtime. I was front row with my leading ladies this time around. Quite simply, it was an enjoyable performance - clever, humorous, and demanded audience participation. 

Following the show, there was a Q&A where my 6-year-old exploded her right arm into the air. She asked the performers how old they were. I'm almost positive the question was asked because my daughter was counting down the years when she can travel the world as an actress extraordinaire. The question would have been a lot weirder if I as the front row Dad asked the same question; goes from cute to creepy in a heartbeat. 

Speaking of hearts, the Queen of Hearts character was tremendous. There is no better theatre magic than "off with your head". The threat of being decapitated brought a smile to my face. Warm my heart, Queen of Hearts...

After the Q&A, all the kids got to participate in acting lessons with the performers. A circle of talent was formed and the rest was history. It was improv, exercise, and education wrapped into one silly shape. Special thanks to the Bright Star superstars who inspired imagination. 

Alas, it is August - the eighth month in another eventful year on Planet Earth. Sometimes it is nice to escape; to attend a fantasy tea party and forget about what we have survived and what is to come; to let kids be kids; to welcome and thank others for making our community brighter. 

Summer will surely end. 

Let Alice and Wonderland and all of us shine on. 

Weekend Warriors

 Memorial Day weekend in Johnstown has become a celebratory sequence of events. In 2021, it felt even more celebratory based off of 2020 being shall I say...cruel and unusual. Our family fired back this year like an asteroid of gratitude crashing to Planet Earth. Survival of the fittest, at its finest, for us four. Without further ado, this is our ball of red, white and blue fire over the final weekend of May. 

I initiated the sequence with the Path of the Flood Historic Races. I'm a veteran of this race series yet this was my first attempt at the newly routed 8-mile adventure. The forecast was looking ideal for a race commemorating a flood. I could not recall the last time I laced up for mileage of this distance so I really did not need precipitation adversity. Thankfully, Mother Nature was kind, blessing runners with a mist instead of a muddy massacre. 

Upon reaching the Staple Bend tunnel, I made a familiar dash into darkness. I have become a part of that unique breed; the community that pays to run. Sometimes into darkness. Sometimes in beatdown heat. Always supported by a local band of brothers and sisters. My favorite supporter this year had a sign that featured the mushroom from Super Mario Brothers. According to the sign, I could slap the mushroom to "Power Up". I recalled that legendary game of my youth and emphatically extended out for the power up. I was hoping to transform into Donkey Kong. I remained a man and had under two miles left.

Running toward Peoples Natural Gas Pavilion, the site of our wedding reception, I locked eyes with my wife. She has been my #1 supporter on all kinds of trails and terrain. I voiced my love for her as I sprinted to the finish. But, the anatomical assault was far from over. I joined two of my fellow runners at Coney Island for breakfast. An 8-mile run followed by a sundowner is a recipe of destiny. 

Feeling the glow of a sunrise run and a sundowner, there were more miles to log. Each year the Path of the Flood Historic Races teams with Discover Downtown Johnstown Partnership's Taste and Tour to complete a gauntlet spring day. My wife has championed the tour since its humble beginning. 2021 marked the 7th tour and the event is a homegrown wildfire that showcases small businesses. This year had the added bonus of a Johnstown Tomahawks playoff hockey game. My wife and I were cheering for the Hawks while my calves were screaming after a day of trail and pavement pounding. Special thanks to all the businesses who participated in the 2021 Taste and Tour; all the volunteers who make the event what it has become; all the community members who poured into downtown Johnstown. 

On Memorial Day, we attended the parade in Westmont. This has become an annual tradition where we venture to a chum's house on the parade route. It is the combining of two families, mixing together a 6-year-old, 4-year-old, 3-year-old, 2-year-old, firetrucks, and explosives. There is nothing quite like the flashing lights of emergency vehicles followed by the spark of cheap fireworks. The 3-year-old in particular had a pyromaniac warmth on this Memorial Day morn. He captured the spirit of America with every deep breathe of firework fume. The parents celebrated another successful parade day without any serious injuries. 

On Tuesday, our 6-year-old graduated from kindergarten. It was also our 8th wedding anniversary. From mileage to milestones, it was a grand transition from May to June; a celebration of our city, our health, education, commitment, and the resurgence of socialization. When Tuesday night rolled around, I was not rolling much in my bed. I had fallen asleep in my daughters' chambers. 

Run and rest gratefully, Johnstown. Spring into action as the weather and events around town heat up. 

Celebrate community, rain or shine. 

Evolution of Education

The school year is almost over. And what a year it was or was not. Academic and pandemic share letters yet I think we can all agree that they do not mix well. The anti-peanut butter and jelly. Education in 2020-2021 will be remembered for a lot of things and attempted to be forgotten for a lot more. Graduations will be sweeping and some will be zooming. Keynote speakers will reference the sky as the limits even if there are limits to how many can fill the auditorium. In the end, in one way or another, we all move on. 

And while school sessions come to a close, Mother Nature has started to call. In Pennsylvania, the freezing rain of Mother's Day weekend is countered by a mid-May heat wave. The frost and the furious weather of a Keystone State spring. You can get hypothermia and heat stroke within the same 7-day forecast!

In the book There's No Such Thing As Bad Weather, a determined mom makes a great case for embracing the elements...all of them. Life is not sunshine and rainbows. I think we all learned that over the course of the last 12+ months. Life is sometimes overcast and rain boots, yet treasures can be found in the clouds and in the puddles. 

In Stackhouse Park this spring, I got to watch my 6-year-old participate in her first bridging ceremony with the Girl Scouts. A small community army gathered at the park's central pavilion. Deprived of social interaction for what felt like all of eternity, this Girl Scouts ceremony felt like Woodstock. There were people everywhere. Any by everywhere, I mean in the same field. I've never been more excited to lay on a blanket by other humans. 

I was proud of my daughter for being a part of the ceremony. She looked official. She looked ready to take on the world. We listened to a fellow Girl Scout, an impressive young lady, describe her experience within the organization. Her speech was her bridge to adulthood; a final thank you, a fantastic message to young people, and an attention grabber to the adults. In summary, overcome the odds. Be yourself. Be grateful. 

Her words inspired me to return to the park. This time, to held build a trail, a bridging of sorts in the woods. Stackhouse Park volunteers are beginning to assemble to build a connecting trail for mountain bikers. With the Inclined Plane shut down for repairs, wilderness warriors are attempting a reroute. Definitely not as luxurious as riding a monstrous vehicle up a mountainside yet it will be an alternate climb nonetheless. I was one of three volunteers that day. One guy was the brains. One guy had the chainsaw. I was the guy that cleared debris. Every team needs a debris clearer. I don't have the brains for navigation nor the safety skills to operate a chainsaw but I can chuck wood. I can break branches. I can pretend to know about tools. Bottomline - the thing that brought us three together that morning - we were building a path. Simple yet requires a lot of hard work and dedication and also true for anyone who teaches - thank you educators of 2020-2021, the silliest syllabus ever, the path of most resistance, the most technologically maddening year in the history of mankind...

And before us, there were the dinosaurs. There was no Zoom in the Mesozoic Era. You didn't have time to TikTok because tick tock you'd be eaten by a velociraptor if you let your guard down. Our whole family attended Dino Day at Stackhouse Park and I happily returned to the dinosaur days. The instructor - my former teacher and neighbor - brought us all the way back to when the dinosaurs walked our world. His enthusiasm for dinos is infectious. You know you are good when you wow the crowd with fossilized poop. 

There you have it, 2020-2021 school year...it will one day be remembered as the fossilized poop of academia. We - kids, parents, teachers, communities - made it work. It was a war path. The dinosaurs are extinct and we are still here. Find a path and offer up some gratitude. 

To teachers everywhere, thank you. 

 

The Race is On

Life as a race has echoed throughout human history. Life is short and it goes fast, yet we all are destined to make it to that ultimate finish line. The pandemic has felt like a marathon while community runs have gone into exile. A lot of masks and no medals. Clocks continued to tick, but no one has been clocking times. The running community, like pretty much every other community, was locked down. Yes, we could run, but not together. 

Well, here's to the comeback. 

On the first Sunday after Easter, a tribe of parents congregated to watch whippersnappers run. It was the 2021 debut of the Healthy Kids Running Series. According to Bruce Springsteen, kids were born to run; however, there is the scare that our youth are transforming into Zoom zombies. Thus, the Healthy Kids Running Series... an organized chaos of children on the move. 

Under a light rainfall and the glow of social interaction, children ran and parents cheered. Also, parents ran and children cried. Springtime satisfaction and sadness on a hot mess field. I loved every minute of it. From my 4-year-old literally running out of one of her shoes to kids running in the wrong direction to kids refusing to run to to a heroic Mom scooping up dog poop...this was community. 

The next day I laced up. Inspired by the next generation on the move, I took off. Throughout much of the pandemic, I have run. I also have ate. And I have stressed. And then laughed. A vicious cycle of run, eat, stress, and laugh. On this particular morning, I simply enjoyed a Cambria City circuit. There was no crowd yet I had support. I was stroller running with that flash of a 4-year-old. Her shoes were kicked off and she sat pretty as Dad crushed a mile and a half with her onboard. I have strolled hundreds of miles with that stroller. Memory after memory of crushing miles and daughters' smiles.

All this running led me to the Johnstown Semper 5K. The Delta Sigma Chi Fraternity, hailing from the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown, hosted this event. The 5K was connected to America's Fund, which supports injured military veterans and their families. My family supported my Dad fitness by standing near my 4-year-old's preschool to await my healthy return to road racing. I had not run in an official event since sometime in the long lost year of 2019. 

And when I heard my cheering quartet - my wife, my mother, my two daughters - I felt a burst of appreciation. A simple sight and sound of what really matters. I descended into Stackhouse Park, appreciative of my family and the surrounding nature of my hometown. My 5K time did not matter, but I deemed it respectable for an eating, running, stressing, laughing Dad. I celebrated my finish by eating a sub. The sub was from a fundraiser so my consumption was neighborhood supporting nourishment. 

The return of organized races has provided an April 2021 jolt. My hope is that there are more to come. That community members reunite on the road and the trail. That foot soldiers flock to local events to support good causes and promote outdoor recreation. That kids spend more time zipping down hills and less time zooming on the computer. 

Happy Spring, Johnstown. Get outside and get on the move. You're on the clock. 

Finding Balance

 On the second Wednesday of March our family of four discovered Balance Restaurant. We have been there before, so I guess we rediscovered Balance; however, this was our first trip since this virus thing took over the world. We learned a lot. A Top 10 a lot...

#10: We are not ready. 

Our girls, our precious children, have lost the ability to function in a restaurant. They cannot be blamed. We, thy parents, cannot be blamed. Covid-19, you can be blamed. It is as if cavewomen came out of the cave for the very first time. They take off their masks and the touching and talking is immediate. And my wife and I just start moving objects on the table like it is high speed checkers. Meanwhile, we can only see the eyes of a masked waiter.

There is fear in his eyes. Pure fear. 

#9: Don't put your mouth on that. 

This was the CDC's first recommendation. It is every parent's nightmare demand. It is fruitless and it is said way too many times before fruit ever reaches the table. Thankfully, we had the one and only table near the entrance. Open air onto Main Street allowed our kids to perform street magic. And by street magic I mean they moved away from the table and were being weird on the sidewalk of Main Street. But, at least, they weren't touching anything, except each other and the pavement. 

We beckoned the waiter. 

#8. When life gives you lemons. 

My wife and I love Balance's lemon parm Brussel sprouts. You know you are getting old when sprouts take you to paradise. "Waiter, I've not been in public for quite some time and my children are most likely going to pull the fire alarm, bring me your finest sprouts!"

We made the mistake of allowing our girls to share a lemonade. That was like handing each of them a grenade and saying, "Go have fun."

#7: Sneak attack.

During the first female led trip to the bathroom, I had the table to myself. I pondered life mysteries with my back toward downtown Johnstown. Suddenly, a man blurted out a question related to my hoodie, which he obviously read from his passerby point of view.

I had no idea there was a human being behind me. Buddy, this is no time for a press conference about the origin of my hoodie. 

I almost peed my own pants. 

#6: I Spy.

The game "I Spy" always provides temporary relief. Imagine being in a bunker and bombs are exploding all around you. Now, imagine being in a bunker, bombs are exploding all around you, and your kids have forks. And they are hallucinating on lemonade. All you can do is find something purple and pray. 

#5: Are we getting dessert?

My 6-year-old had the audacity to ask this before we even ate dinner. Her little sister drooled in support of the question. I don't think I even answered the question. I just got up and took my first bathroom break. 

I walked slowly. 

#4: The Limbo

Based off of the geography of our seating, it was natural to do the limbo under the gate separating the sidewalk from the restaurant. I know one of the things I've missed the most during the pandemic has been not being able to limbo. Don't you yearn for the days when two people could hold a stick less than 6 feet apart? Your friends could breathe and laugh all around, over, and under that stick... 

Getting back to normal people, getting back to normal...

#3: Capture the Moment.

At one point, I took a picture of my 3 leading ladies who were seated and zested by lemons. Right as I took the picture, a waiter (not our waiter) walked by in the background. The photo perfectly captures him in the distance. He is masked and looking directly at the camera.

It is the perfect pandemic family photo. 

#2: Check, please.

The best part about saying "check please" is knowing you don't have to do the dishes. I don't care how much this costs or how chaotic this has been, I know I am not washing a single dish. There have been ultra low points during the pandemic including the dreaded dish wash with dry hands. You have washed your hands so much throughout the day, dish washing is physically painful. It has always been emotionally painful, but now it really hurts. Yes, sanitizer has sanitized your hands, but you have lost a layer of skin in the process. 

#1: Together in warm weather. 

It got close to 60 degrees on this March day. It is still winter. We are still in a pandemic. Balance still has great food. We still have each other. 

Support local, Johnstown. Thanks, Balance. 

Dad Movie Review: Tom and Jerry

There is no way on God's green Earth that I am going to give a negative film review. The fact that I was in a movie theatre on March 6, 2021 was like winning the lifetime achievement award at the Oscars. I had not been in a theatre since Sonic the Hedgehog. 

Yes, folks, I hope one day my pandemic life will be defined by the trials and tribulations between Sonic and Tom and Jerry. Watching the movie at Westwood Plaza Theatre and Cafe, it was a reminder of how far we have come and how much farther we have to go. 

In the early 1940s, Pearl Harbor was bombed, Mount Rushmore was completed, and Tom Cat began a decades long chase of Jerry Mouse. While pandemic life has felt much like being bludgeoned with an animated mallet, it is important to travel back to the era when we welcomed Tom and Jerry. There was World War II. Jonas Salk did not discover the polio vaccine until 1953. Brown vs. Board of Education would not be ruled until 1954. War...disease..injustice...Tom and Jerry.  

Sound familiar?

In 2021, Tom faces a familiar foe, Jerry, as we face an equally familiar adversary - ourselves. Now, Tom and Jerry absolutely do not model how to resolve conflict. They rely on nonverbal ridicule and violence; however, they are blessed with the inability to speak, so they do avoid the verbal ridicule trap. Every generation that has watched Tom and Jerry has lived through something; survived something; had some sort of mallet bludgeoning. We are often conflicted. 

The next generation has been awarded an arsenal of capability through innovation, technology, and the wealth within these United States. On a recent family outing to Johnstown's Heritage Discovery Center, I was reminded of how an immigrants' journey to our shores was full of hardship and heartache. Perseverance was a necessity. There was no Instagram; no instant gratification; uncertainty around every corner. 

And for and hour and a half this Saturday, I knew around every corner, Tom would be after Jerry. Their feud has been going on for 80+ years. But, through all that cat and mousing, they somehow find common ground. Saturday's matinee ending was predictably happy. 

And that's all that really matters. The relevance is not in the plot, but in the product. Tom and Jerry gave my kids an animated escape and a reentry into the magic of the movies. It gave this Dad an opportunity to think of everything that has transpired since that blue hedgehog sprinted onto the big screen.  

I recommend Tom and Jerry. More importantly, I recommend that we all move toward a healthy Spring when Mother Nature will provide us visible growth. A kaboom of bloom. Uncertainty shall remain yet I am certain communities can come together by taking small steps. Imagine if kindness defined the new-normal; if every post was positive; if Tom and Jerry still can provide the next generation of kids with what matters most...

Hope.