Everyone Goes to Pizza Joe's!

The first stop on my #26 goal, Eat the Best Pizza I can find, was Pizza Joe’s, because of course everyone goes to Pizza Joe’s! It’s a sentimental first stop, holding a dear place in my heart from many slices consumed while a college student at Westminster. It was on my personal list as a maybe to try, but after Chris Borsani made a strong case for Pizza Joe’s I had to include it.

So! Amy and I gave it a whirl a couple weeks ago! We decided to lay the ground rules before we dug in. I mean after all, this is serious business trying to find the best pizza! So the first rule of the pizza search is that the pizza choice must come from the specialty pizza list. A cheese pizza over and over doesn’t do the search justice and a pie from the specialty list has to be worthy, right? From Pizza Joe’s we selected a large, triple cheese and bacon pizza (thankfully our hearts are still ticking after this one!). Then we built a ratings scale, 1=Not Good, 5=Delicioso!. The categories are Sauce, Cheese, Toppings, Crust, Overall, Additions. So with that all set, we watched the Packers tear apart another team and dug into our Pizza Joe’s Triple Bacon and Cheese Specialty Pizza! And below, are the findings for this first stop on #26: Eat the Best Pizza I can Find

Sauce=3  

Cheese=4 

Toppings=4

Crust=4

Overall=3

Additions (Cheesy Dipping Sticks with Marinara)=4.5

Thus Pizza Joe’s received a 22.5 out of a possible 30 points. It was a good pizza but I don’t think #26 is knocked off my list quite yet! Next stop….not sure yet! To Be Continued… :)

The Night I thought Santa was Robbing our House

If I think real hard and go back many years I can remember a night when I thought all Christmas was ruined. It was a typical cold night in mid-December; the kind of night that feels so quiet and calm as if holding it together until the jubilant and chaotic joy that is Christmas day. I was sitting alone on the couch, the only person in the room, watching a mindless TV show through the reflected glow of our Christmas tree covered in multi-colored lights and mismatching ornaments. Out of the quiet and still I heard a soft thump from somewhere outside but didn’t think anything of it. Not 30 seconds later 3 loud bangs echoed off the window pane directly above me! I jumped off the couch in fright and peered through the glass window to see a man dressed as Santa Claus eerily squinting at me from the front porch! I immediately began a frantic debate in my mind of whether those eyes were full of joy or mischief. He nodded at me and with a thick, black mitten pointed towards the front door.

Very timidly I made my way to the hall and yelled upstairs to my mom, saying “Mom, someone dressed like Santa wants to come inside!” As I waited for my parents to slowly make their way downstairs my mind debated the intent of this supposed Santa Claus. After all, I thought, what a great disguise to wear when robbing a house! This was it I thought, no Christmas presents this year (I never thought that maybe this Santa was going to take money, jewelry, or anything but all the Christmas presents my parents had stashed away in their secret hiding spots!). FINALLY! My parents arrived and told me it was okay, to let Santa in, he was here to visit my brother, sister, and I. And with that, all the fears went away, calmed by the innocent and relentless trust a young man has in their mom and dad. Indeed, Santa was there to give presents, stopping through on an early mission to spread joy and happiness to kids everywhere.

You know who that Santa was? It was Jim Vejsicky, my middle school math teacher. It wasn’t until years later that my dad revealed the secret identity of this jolly man. And for a few years, Mr. Vejsicky would stop by dressed as Mr. Claus, giving us little presents and candy canes, always somehow knowing our names even though I was sure I had never introduced myself to Santa. Mr. Vejsicky was a teacher, a member of the community, and an avid basketball fan. On a few snow days, when I was in middle school, my mom or dad would drive me to the gym and I would walk in to find Mr. Vejsicky setting up metal folding chairs around the perimeter of the paint. He would take the next hour or so and teach me about shooting with a quick release, driving to my left AND right, and staying low on defense. I don’t know that my parents ever asked him to do this with me, or to dress up like Santa Claus and visit us before Christmas. But he did.

I’ve often wondered if maybe the best gift we can give is to invest ourselves into those around us. Not through monetary gifts, or even just time spent with someone else. But to invest a part of ourselves…knowing that we may never get anything in return for what we give. It is a true form of sacrifice, and I find myself this Christmas thinking of all those investments people made in me. My parents of course, that is immeasurable, Mr. Jones my phys. Ed. Teacher, who talked to me endlessly on how to be a better player, Dr. Huey at Westminster, who let me come over to his house and borrow books from him and listen to me babble on about Ohio State, Mr. Griffin and Mr. Kite in North Carolina, who in my first, very difficult year of teaching took me to basketball games at ECU and would watch my class for me so I could return home sooner over the holidays, Debbie Mihalik at Geneva, who spent hours talking with me over coffee and always offering to go out of her way to do numerous little things for me, even when I didn’t ask, and sometimes when I asked too much. And of course Mr. Vejsicky, who sacrificed his time, his energy, and invested a little of himself in me and my family. He never had to venture out into those cold December nights, but he did, and it made a difference.

I’m not sure who would say I have invested in them; my hope is that I have carried on the example these people and many others provided me. And I hope this Christmas to ask the question, who am I making a sacrifice for and whom am I investing in? It truly is a great gift to give part of your life to someone else and ask for nothing in return.

You know how this Christmas story ends? I don’t remember what Mr. Vejsicky brought my brother and me… but I remember he reached deep into his big red bag and pulled out a leather held sleigh bell and gave it to my sister. I remember how my sister looked when she saw it, the surprise and mystical awe of wondering which reindeer this bell used to belong to. This past weekend I asked my dad about that gift, he said it was a crucial time for Abby, she was starting to… ‘wonder’ about Santa. And I think it was only fitting that the moment I stepped foot inside my parents’ house this past weekend for our family Christmas, the first toy my niece Alex showed me was a tiny, leather held sleigh bell….and it was not my sisters, but a new one….a sacrifice and an investment by someone into the joy and wonder of a wide-eyed and curious 7 year old girl.

Merry Christmas to all of my friends and family.

Andy

What I Learned from the Maple Tree outside my Bedroom Window

I grew up in a small town, in a yellow house with a red brick porch, on a tiny hill, with bedroom windows that overlooked an elementary school, playground, and a basketball court. Right outside those windows was a large maple tree. When I was a kid I would lie in bed and stare out my window at this tree that loomed over my room and danced in the wind as if trying to teach me the rhythm of the world. In the winter time its lifeless branches would cast shadows across my walls, the wind turning its leafless limbs into long, bony fingers that flickered and suggested an ominous world outside my window. The more the wind blew the longer and more encroaching the fingers became. I would pull my comforter up to my chin and use the warmth of my bed to battle back those cold nights, and the bony fingers would dance and move as if yearning to pull me out through the window into the cold, dark streets. I pretended it was the dance of a sinister laugh, and I would be thankful to be tucked inside a house where I was loved and protected from a dark and scary world.

But in the summertime everything about that maple tree would change. I would sleep with my windows open and the maple tree, now fat with leaves, would rustle at me and bring in a summer breeze that teased my face and suggested a brighter, more lively world. Summertime was my favorite. I would get home from school, change, and head down to the basketball court outside my window. I would play games until my mom appeared on the hillside and embarrassingly shout down to come up for dinner. On the good nights, I ate and returned as quickly as possible to the court, playing until I had resisted the calls to return home long enough. The court also had a light, and it created new shadows cast into my bedroom. The maple tree and its fat leaves would rustle, and I would peak through its branches to catch glimpses of the playful light. I would lie in bed and listen for the sounds of basketball still being played; of the ball being dribbled down the court, the clang of the rim and the boom of the wooden backboards shaking from a long 3. I became so good at listening to the game I could even tell when a rebound had been snatched and a fast break started up the other end of the court. The leaves would dance in rhythm as if trying to join in the game, and its fat leaves carried the sounds into my room on the hot breeze of a summer night. And eventually I would fall asleep, with the windows still open, the tree still moving in rhythm to the game, and the sounds of basketball subtly echoing throughout my room.

On Monday night, along with my friend Josh Andree, I played basketball for the first time in four years. I hate admitting that. A game that was such a part of my life and brought me so much joy had disappeared for most of my 20’s…and you could tell. I think my first 3 ball didn’t hit anything, and my second MAY have grazed the backboard. But it still felt good. When I woke up the next morning the games I played were shrouded in a foggy daze, as if I couldn’t believe I actually played ball. It could have been imagined, but my aching legs and shoulders told me otherwise! 

Number 15 on my 30@30 list is to play basketball this year. I suppose I can cross that one off the list but I don’t feel as if I fulfilled it yet. So I’m gonna wait, because just those 3 or 4 games I played brought back all the love I have for the sport. I was so excited, when I got home, I pointed out to Amy that my chin was swollen and numb from a wayward elbow on a lay-up….but it was awesome! Now, I can’t wait for next Monday and hopefully the sound of the net strings snapping from a deep, arching shot.

  

I fell asleep Monday night confident that back in my hometown, outside my childhood bedroom, the maple tree with the fat, summer leaves was dancing in delight. I laughed quietly before I fell asleep; knowing after all these years the maple tree outside my bedroom window will take all the credit for teaching me how to love a game.

Greetings from Paradise!

I’m in paradise!!! As I sit here and write this I’m being carried away by violins playing a wispy melody that takes me out into the blue and sunny sky with no thoughts to anything but being free. And then the bass line comes in and the wispy song is turned into a haunting tune that reminds me of the reality I see out my kitchen window; snow flurries, a grey sky, and a dull landscape highlighted only by the still green grass in my yard.

I was in the middle of a difficult run the other day when the song “Paradise” by Coldplay came on my new iPod Nano (thaaaaank you wifey!). It was definitely an inspiring song to run to and it took me away from thinking about each step and off to my only little paradise. But when it ended I kind of….looked around and thought to myself, ‘could this be anyone’s paradise?’ It surely is not what comes to my mind when I imagine a perfect place. My image of Paradise always involves a sandy beach, royal blue sky, 2 palm trees, and a warm sun! So I wondered, what do other people picture when they think of paradise? Is anyone’s paradise covered in snow and muddy street corner puddles set amidst bare, lifeless trees and a colorless sky? Yeah, if this is paradise, I thought, I pass.

In the song the lyrics describe a little girl who had all the innocent hope for the best in the world but it eluded her…leaving her to go to sleep at night dreaming of Paradise as if it was an escape from her now jaded and less optimistic view of the world. What does this girl dream of at night? I doubt it’s a place called paradise, as I think of it. Instead, maybe to her, paradise has nothing to do with the physical world but instead with a life relived as that little girl. What if paradise is something different than a place, an image, a location?

If it’s not a place, then I think paradise is what we find in the people around us. The people we love and who love us. It’s seeing these people during the holiday’s, that first hug from your parents, wrapped in so much joy, or the loving and sloppy kiss from your family dog, whose tail gives away that YOU are their paradise! If it’s not a place, then Paradise is the experiences that bring us laughter and joy and happiness. I don’t (yet) have any kids but I bet almost any parent can see in their son or daughter’s eyes that every minute spent with mom and dad is a glimpse into paradise. And if it’s not a place, then it doesn’t matter if it’s your world on a sunny day or a cold, dreary day. What matters is the search for Paradise in what’s around us and the experiences that become our most beautiful dreams at night…the dreams of Paradise, the dreams of our lives.

How to Dress Like a Frumpy Old Man

I was running by the local college yesterday when I came across a student dressed like a frumpy old man. I almost stopped to talk to him because after all, any one dressed like this has to hold great wisdom that comes from many years of life and a warm cardigan. I wanted to ask him what happened that morning to lead to the decision to wear penny loafers, ankle high white socks, gym shorts that DEFINITELY violated the fingertip rule and had John Stockton’s approval, and the brown wrinkly sweater. And where was the pipe that finished such an outfit? Instead I kept running, thinking over the next mile how someone should inform this student that after college that outfit goes in the closet until such frumpy wisdom is truly achieved. Today I realized this random student may have been a figment of my imagination, representing the crossroad in my life of turning 30.

This past Sunday at Buca di Beppo I shared some of my 30@30 list with friends and family. My dad asked me what happens if a year from now I’m about to turn 31 and my list is not finished. My mind froze for a minute and I faltered at a good answer. I still don’t have an answer to that daunting possibility….but I know the only way I can fail on this is to not try at all and that is what keeps me motivated.

Before I present the list I want to mention this is not my bucket list. That list, to me, represents singular acts that one wants to achieve before they die. In addition, I’m 90% positive this is not my midlife crisis. If it is, I should probably make it better than simply completing a list of 30 things! Instead this list stands for living in a different way than I have, in a way that allows me to give more of myself to others, to get more out of life by doing the things I love, and to live in a way that is intentional and on purpose.

So here is my list, I put it out there and welcome feedback on any of the items! The list is set, that will not change, but I need your help in achieving some of these (i.e., #26: What is the best pizza you have ever tasted? #5: What’s your dream…something you always imagine doing and how cool it would be?). A lot of them are easily achievable (#8, #10, #27), a few will be completed only through hard work and perseverance (#4, #7, #23). ALL of them come with a story and a reason.   

In no particular order I give you my list of the 30 things I will do in my 30^th year!!! I can’t wait to get started!!

1. Run a Marathon
2. Go Surfing
3. Go Snow Skiing
4. Volunteer for a Year
5. Help Someone Achieve a Dream
6. Surprise Amy
7. Have Dinner with a Celebrity
8. Go Camping
9. Teach Again
10. Start and Write a Blog
11. Rekindle a Friendship
12. Tell Someone they made a Difference in my Life
13. Sing in Public
14. Share my Faith
15. Play Basketball
16. Spend all Day in a Museum
17. Go to a Movie Premiere
18. Tell Someone I'm Sorry
19. Play a Prank
20. Go Somewhere I've Never Been
21. Ask Someone their Life Story
22. Spend an Entire Day in Silence
23. Buy a House
24. Go to the Theater
25. Write a Story
26. Eat the best Pizza I can Find
27. Play Disc Golf
28. Go to a Sunrise Beach Service
29. Wear a Tux
30. Throw a Party