I feel like an old raincoat lying in a barn that had 5 dead horses on it. Tired and crushed.
Like a lizard’s tongue that got stuck to a bus and stretched a mile long. Good for nothing, but being nothing.
I could do that you know. Be nothing. I’ve been there before… almost. I sort of want to know what it’s like, but it’s not time yet. Dr. Lincoln says it’s not time. I have much to do here and I like to do much. I just don’t like to do most. Most everything is boring and pointless… to me. I know other people find watching football for 10 hours on Sunday and knowing the names of all the baseball players on every team or … whatever. But not me. I like video games and music and that’s it. And pizza and burgers and fries and sometimes steak and chicken nuggets and basically any fast food, but that’s it. My family is cool sometimes, especially my sister. Oh, and Freddie. My one real friend.
But I’m looking around and I don’t see anybody. I don’t see any one thing actually. It’s pitch black. Dark like the bottom of the earth with no sun. I can hear the dripping of the water. I’m in a puddle I think and should be uncomfortable, but I’m not sure if I’m awake or not. I don’t feel wet. I actually don’t feel anything. Hmmm. ‘teresting.
THE NEW YEAR (a few thoughts from an imperfect mind.)
THE TICK OF THE CLOCK.
THE TURN OF THE PLOT.
The “What did I do?”
The “What did I not?”
THE PRECIOUS PICTURES TAKEN.
THE MOMENTS IN AMBER CAUGHT.
The rushing too fast to savor.
The next thing to be sought.
THE HAND YOU OFFERED.
THE ADVICE THEY DID TAKE.
The ones you ignored.
The eyes you forsake.
THE PRESENT OF THE PRESENT.
THE INSTANT MOST DEAR.
The day spent coasting.
The footprints not clear.
THE DINNER TOASTED WITH STORIES.
THE CANDLE GLOWS WITH SHARED FIRE.
The food that gets wasted.
The gossip that won’t tire.
THE SLEEP OF THE UNBURDENED.
THE FORGIVENESS’ FEEL.
The chaotic mind whirling.
The running on the hamster’s wheel.
THE QUIET STIRRING OF OATMEAL.
THE SILENCE FILLED WITH GREAT PEACE.
The cup looking quite empty.
The envy that won’t cease.
THE GIFT OF A SMILE.
THE WARMTH REFLECTS BACK.
The parties uninvited.
The friends that you lack.
THE SHOW THAT INTRIGUED.
THE ESCAPE OF THE BOOK.
The shatter of glass.
The harsh word you took.
THE LAUGHING WITH ABANDON.
THE HEART ON A GREAT RIDE.
The deep fire of anger.
The foolish dance of righteous pride.
THE PROMISE OF A SUNRISE.
THE SPLENDOR OF THE MOON.
The loss of those passing.
The saying goodbye too soon.
FOCUS ON THE FIRST.
LET LOOSE OF THE LAST.
Cherish all the good.
The time goes too fast.
A DAY.
A YEAR.
A LIFE.
AMEN.
Happy new year. May it be one of joy, laughter and growth.
Thursday morning started out wrong. I didn’t sleep great and woke up foggy. I said to my wife “boy, I’m so tired.” I forced myself through my routine, still in a slow minded funk. It was a racquetball morning, so I was leaving early with my daughter, Hannah. I had to get out the door by 7:25 am. Had to. She was running a little slow unfortunately. We didn’t leave until 7:35. Frustrated, since the traffic with that 10 minute delay is much worse, I stewed in the driver’s seat as we pulled away from the house. Uggh! Trigger. I get stuck behind someone texting instead of taking a right on red when he could have. Now we have to wait for all the left turners coming the other way. DAMN IT! Trigger. The school drop off was way backed up and when I was finally close, there’s a dad talking to his daughter through his window holding up the whole line for what seemed forever!! Trigger! Every red light on the rest of the way to the gym!! Trigger. Trigger. Trigger. I pull in and follow a woman to her car since the gym lot is full. She gets in her car and just sits there. Sits there! Two minutes go by and she still hasn’t pulled out. I jump out of my car and walk up to hers. She’s just talking on her phone. I tap on her window and ask “Are you leaving?” she says, “Not yet, sorry.” TRIGGER! Events conspire against me. I revel in my misfortune – screaming at the lights, cursing the people, letting my blood pressure rise and my face turn a reddish purple while my fists clench the wheel maniacally. I finally park and get into the gym. My turn comes to step on the court. I’m fully awake. My nervous energy is off the charts.
Racquetball is a thoughtful game. Unfortunately, I had no coherent thoughts in my head as we began to play. My opponent was warmed up and ready. At once, he had me running all over the place. I was swinging wildly and then running some more. I guess I wasn’t even breathing well, because at the end of a very long ugly point, I stood up, took a quick breath, and felt the world start to close in on me. I must have been holding my breath for most of the point and I came close to blacking out.
I knelt down and took some long deep breathes. The lights that were blazing across my eyes slowly went from an incredible fireworks show to just a few shooting stars. My head started to clear and I was no longer circling the deep abyss. I took a break for a few minutes off the court.
I like to think that I’m pretty mentally healthy. That I know my amigdala (the oldest, most reptilian, most powerful part of our brain) doesn’t have much higher thought, it just reacts. Triggered by a stimulus to fight, flight or freeze. I know I was being triggered left and right that morning and did nothing to help my recovery. I just let myself get provoked and live in the dark side of self pity and matredom.
It took almost passing out to snap me out of it. As I drank some water and let my breathing get stronger, I went over the morning.
First mistake. Thinking and saying “I’m tired.” Your thoughts and your words become your reality. I will try not to do that again. I’ll choose an attitude of gratitude for the thousands of good things that I have.
All the events that happened didn’t need to effect me in such a drastic way. Forgiveness, rather than anger, was the way to go. No time like the present. I forgave Hannah for not getting ready so quickly in the morning – the delay gave me a few more minutes in the car with my beautiful, precious daughter. I forgave the person texting rather than making the right on red – they may have been replying to a sick parent frantic about finding their medication. I forgave the dad at pickup – his daughter may have been nervous about a test that day and he was telling her that he loved her no matter how she did and to just do her best.
I forgive the woman who sat in her parked car in the lot not pulling out for me – she was probably blissfully unaware that I was waiting and the call she was on was important.
Lastly, and most importantly, I forgave myself. I can be grumpy. I can get frustrated and irritable. I can behave irrationally and counter to my best interests. I can make insensitive and inappropriate comments. I do all of those things sometimes. But I also try to improve everyday. I try to evolve and learn everyday. I try to be a better father, husband, brother, son, friend, co-worker, leader, teammate, competitor, neighbor, marketer, vendor, customer, American and human being.
One minute of introspection. From triggers to gratitude and forgiveness.
The brain is a very powerful weapon. Controlling your thoughts determines whether you’ll tell yourself a good story today or a destructive one. Make it a good one.
My boy Jack turns 14 today. It’s been an interesting path for sure. Perhaps that’s because his journey isn’t on a “path” and it certainly can’t be charted as a straight line. It’s like some grand adventure that we can’t always comprehend or appreciate, but one that will get him to a place that will be uniquely his. The goal shouldn’t be the destination I tell myself. The goal should be a good journey.
He enjoys some things immensely that I wouldn’t. He spends a tremendous amount of time doing things I wouldn’t have the patience to do for a few minutes. He doesn’t love to be challenged, but he does some exceptionally challenging things with ease. We guide him when he let’s us, and sometimes he guides us when we let him. He’s rarely boring and usually happy… and if that’s how it is on his less travelled road, I know he’ll be just fine. I love you Jack. Happy Birthday baby boy.
I was driving my 12 year old daughter, Hannah, to school yesterday morning. She was a little tired and not all that excited that it was Monday.
I asked her to close her eyes and imagine that she was not 12, but that she was 112. That it was 100 years in the future and she was at a pleasant place surrounded by nice people, but she was still 112. Her mind was fine, but her body was old. Her hand trembled when she held it out. It hurt a little to take deep breaths. Her knees and elbows were swollen and achy and she could only move very slowly. Her eyesight was poor and everything looked cloudy.
I then said that a man came in to see 112 year old Hannah and said that for a million dollars, he could transport her 100 years into the past and make her 12 years old again. She’d be young and healthy and full of life. It would be just a typical day and she’d be going to school with all her friends and going to cheerleading that night. She’d be learning about the world while surrounded by a vibrant and lively community of people all rushing around with lots of color and sound. Old Hannah quickly agreed to spend the money to have just one day of beautiful youth and health. One million dollars to experience the joy and thrill of jumping and laughing and running and learning and breathing free of pain.
I shouted “BAM” and Hannah opened her eyes. We were pulling up to school and I said, “enjoy your million dollar day!!” She kissed me goodbye and thoughtfully got out of the car.
When I got home last night, Susan told me, “Hannah asked me to drive her to school tomorrow.”
There they were. A big headstone. A detailed footstone. Granite slabs. Chiseled corners. Etched words. Weighty and sad and timeless. Those, however, were not the real monuments to the one we came to see. The most true testaments to my father in law, Dick Shelling, stood at his grave reverently. His daughters and his granddaughter. Three among the many who foster his legacy with his blood flowing through their veins. His life’s example of good cheer and sense of purpose guiding their actions. The flame of his life force kindled theirs and it still burns brightly during their journey.
There were tears. There were hugs of shared loss. There were heavy moments of deep silence. There were feelings of connectedness to the past – thick tendrils of thought going back in time to relive the memories when he was here breathing among us only a few months ago.
They left quietly, walking slowly away embracing each other. Monuments of love and life moving on, but never forgetting whence they came.
While this is not a typical blog post, I want to chronicle the emails I sent to friends and family when my dad almost died a few years ago. It was an insane few weeks.
7/26/2006 11:26 am
Hello all. Some of you may have heard, but Herman was admitted to the hospital last Saturday morning. He had scraped his hand while unpacking boxes in his new home in Livingston on Friday afternoon. The abrasion soon began to swell. By the evening he was in pain and didn’t sleep at all. The following morning his hand had swollen to twice its normal size and the pain was very intense. He was giving it an 8 out of 10. My dad’s a pretty tough guy, so his 8 out of 10 would probably kill lesser men. The swelling started spreading up his arm. We marked its progress with a pen and were distressed to see it rapidly climb up his arm half an inch an hour. He started antibiotics and we hoped that would stem whatever infection he got. It did not. Over the next two days, his arm got worse and worse. The antibiotics were not working at all. His had a fever of 102 and his white blood cell count jumped from 11 to 13 to 19 to 20. The infection spread to the shoulder and his skin began to blister. He had an MRI yesterday afternoon. The MRI showed evidence of necrotizing fasciitis. This is also known as the “flesh eating bacteria.” After many intense consultations, he was taken into surgery last night at 10 pm. His arm was opened up and the infection was removed. The extensive surgery went very well. They believe they got to his arm in time and have saved all muscle tissue.
I saw him this morning and he is doing well. They are still doing many tests but for right now we hope he is on the road to recovery. He should be in the hospital for about 10 days. They will have to do a skin graft in a few days. Then he will be recovering at home for many weeks. He sends his regards to everyone. I will keep you informed on his progress. Crazy, absolutely crazy stuff.
Take good care.
-Eric
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7/26/2006 3:51 pm
Hello again. I just got back from the hospital a little while ago. The response I have received from so many people so quickly is a real testament to my father and I give you a heartfelt thank you. Many of you have asked about where Herman is and how you can send him something. Right now he is in intensive care and the rooms are very small. When he is in his own room, I will send that information. Other than a couple of boxes of good and plenty, he will probably not want anything but a card. He took a little stroll down the unit and back to his room. His legs were a little wobbly at times, but he looked pretty good. The general anesthesia takes some time to fully get out of the system. His white blood count was down to 18 from 20 and that’s a good sign. He has some numbness in his thumb and index finger, but they are not overly concerned about that at this point. He has been making all the nurses laugh and already has a reputation as a wise guy. They all love him. Shocking.
He is at Overlook Hospital in Summit, NJ. (908) 522-2000. He has no phone yet and they won’t connect any incoming calls to the ICU. I am warmed by all the phone calls to me and I’ll return some of them if I am able, but please don’t take offense if I don’t. It’s easier to email rather than repeating the same things over and over, but I really do appreciate the concern.
That’s the latest.
Love, E
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7/26/2006 11:30 am
Hello all. I just got back from the hospital and here is the report. Our patient is continuing to do well. He is resting uncomfortably in a private room at Overlook. He has not been sleeping very well due to the awkward nature of his wrapped left arm. It is very heavy and bulky and he has to keep it above his heart to control the swelling. He has requested either a sleeping pill or a bonk on the head with a cartoon mallet tonight. His feet are quite swollen as well. They want to get him up and walking around several times today to get the blood flow going.
I have a small request to ask, please do not call him. He is quite tired and the phone keeps ringing and disturbing him. He needs to get as much rest as possible and conserve his strength for his long recovery. Also, another small request. Please don’t call my mother either. If she needs any help, she will definitely ask. I know many of you are concerned and want to let them know, but they will be home for many weeks and will have more energy and plenty of time to talk then. Their new home address is 1407 Town Center Way, Livingston, NJ 07039. For now, please just email him or of course you can email me. His email is herman@1800lighting.com. He probably won’t read them ‘til we get him internet access or he is home, but I am making copies of all the messages sent to me and he is pleased to hear all of your kind words. . I’m also respectfully asking for no visitors to the hospital. I made a quick video of him this morning and I hope to be able to send that to you tomorrow. I am living in a hotel and I’m not sure if have all the cables necessary to input the camera to my computer, but I will try. If you want to send a card, here is the address: Room 219 Overlook Hospital 99 Beauvoir Avenue, Summit, NJ 07902. Again, he is doing well. He is not out of the woods in regards to post op infection, full sensitivity in his fingers and the swelling issues, but his prognosis is very good. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Thanks for your understanding and your continuing concern.
-Eric
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7/27/2006 11:42 am
Here’s the latest installment:
Herman is continuing to improve. To the nurses he has unfortunately promised bulbs for life for the powderers and fixtures for life for the wipers. The business is in trouble, but he’s getting very enthusiastic care.
His white blood count was down to 16 last night and this morning it was 13. A real good progression. He has no fever and his spirits are good. His doctor changed his dressing on his arm late last night. My father tells me it was quite a sight. I don’t think he will be ordering a whole fish filleted at the table any time soon.
The arm swelling is down 30% but it’s still pretty big. He has a little more tingling in the thumb and index finger than he did yesterday and that too is a good sign. His arm is fully mummified and is very heavy. His main complaint is that he has to try and sleep in one position and the bed is not very comfortable. He will hopefully be moved out of the ICU (there are too many sick people there) and to his own room sometime today. He finally shaved off his rally beard. My mom hated it since it was coming in all white and I don’t think she was digging the whole Uncle Remis look.
I told my father of all the emails and calls of support he has received and he thanks you all. He doesn’t want anybody to send him anything other than emails. He hates writing thank you notes, but he says he can handle a reply email.
OK, that’s all for now. Thanks again.
-Eric
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7/31/2006 9:30 am
Well, the weekend went by pretty well, but we’re going back into surgery today at 12 noon. Herman’s doctor is not happy with the way his hand is healing. It is still very swollen and has not been coming down like the rest of his arm. I recorded a little video yesterday and I hope you can view it. It is attached to this e-mail. The doctor is going to do the skin graft at the same time. The surgery should take about 90 minutes and he will again be under general anesthesia. So, not too much to write for now, but I look forward to writing to you all later this afternoon with some positive news. So as he says “he can take it.” He has a lot more hurdles to jump and he knows you are all there jumping with him. Take good care. -Eric
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7/31/2006 4:01 pm
Herman is out of surgery (finally!!). His doctor said everything went well. I don’t have any details yet, but he is in recovery. I will find out more info and get back tomorrow.
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8/1/2006 11:06 am
Hello all. We had a very long and anxious afternoon yesterday. The surgery was supposed to take 90 minutes. So at the four hour mark we were pulling our hair out. I guess the pre and post op took a while. They opened up his hand again. They did not find anything bad thank god. That was our big worry. They did the skin graft and that went very well. His doctor was very very pleased. My father came out of the anesthesia much easier this time. A kind of funny/sad story when he was coming out of his first surgery: Before he went in for his operation he had to sign many waivers and statements of understanding of the risks (infection, loss of limb, death, etc.) When we finally were able to see him in the ICU, he was still pretty disorientated and loopy. He looked down at his heavily bandaged arm. From his prone position, he couldn’t see his finger tips poking out. He said in a dreamy melancholy voice, “Oh look, they took my hand…I signed it away.” We all laughed and quickly assured him his hand was intact. He said, “oh, good” and he floated away again. I am going to see him this afternoon and will be able to give a first hand account. Thanks again for all your well wishes.
-Eric
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8/1/2006 5:10 pm
Hi all. Herman is doing well. He is recovering very nicely from the second surgery. He is enjoying all the flowers, candy and …such that have been sent to him. Thank you Ira P. for the uplifting reading material. Inspriational articles.
But seriously, he is doing very well. He feels good and is very encouraged by the doctor reports. He is going to be on IV antibiotics for another week. He may even by able to go home by this weekend. He has more movement in his fingers and will have to begin physical therapy soon. The skin graft will be examined tomorrow, but all other incisions are healing nicely. His recuperation will take months, but he’s up for the challenge.
He wants me tell everyone THANK YOU for all the wishes and prayers. It certainly has helped him in his recovery. He looks forward to being able to answer his email personally soon. That’s all for now. Thanks. -Eric
8/3/2006
Good morning. My brother Ken flew in last night and we saw my father. The hand surgeon happened to show up soon after we arrived. He took off the bandages and examined the skin grafts for the first time since the surgery. He was very pleased with the look of everything. Personally, it was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen. I don’t have a squeamish stomach, and perhaps it was because it was my father, but it was really tough to look at. It really brought home the extent of the damage done to the arm. It’s hard to imagine the arm ever looking acceptable again, but the doctor assures us that it will. I look forward to the day when he will come in to work with the mask marks still on his face from doing his early morning laps in the pool. I hope that day is not too far away.
-E
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8/4/2006
Hello all. I have only a moment to send an update. If all goes well, Herman may be able to go home tonight. That would keep him from hitting the 2 week mark in the hospital by a few hours. He will still be on IV antibiotics for another week, but he’ll be in his new home. It’s been completely unpacked and it’s ready for him. There are no more boxes in the apartment to taunt him. I’ll get back to you tomorrow. Thanks.
-Eric
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8/5/2006
Happy Saturday everyone. Herman is home!! He looked very good relaxing on his big comfy sofa in his new condo. His fingers are still large and he has a long way to go for recovery. It’s hard to tell him that however. He’s telling everyone he talks to that he’ll have to be home another week. Realistically, he will be home several weeks at a minimum. But it’s hard to keep a good man down. He has begun to open up some of his emails. He tried to respond to the first few, but with only one hand he quickly gave that up. So, here is the reply to all who sent an email to Herman: “Hello all. I’m home and resting comfortably. I’ll be laid up here another week. (see, I told you! -E) Thank you all for your well wishes and prayers. I’ll be up and around soon and look forward to getting back to normal. That’s it. Love, Herman”
OK. Back to me, Eric. I’m happy my father is home and on the mend. He has received fantastic love and care from my many people, in particular my sister Joan, my Uncle Larry and Adele. I have to applaud my mother for being an absolute rock during this whole affair. She never once lost it or become down. She kept her spirits up and her head clear. She made good decisions and was tireless in her support of her husband. Alright, so I’m a jewish boy who loves his mother. Let he that is without sin…
Below is a funny thing I found while I was packing up my home last month. It’s the first photo id of Herman. It was taken in 1979. For years he belonged to the Livingston Racquet Club and Ken and I used to go and use the club with his card. To end that practice, the club instituted photo id’s. Quick thinking Herman brings in the nose and glasses for the photo. Whenever Herman, Ken or I wanted to go the club, we had to don the disguise. It worked for a year, then they got wise. I include it here just as an example of the creativity and magic that is Herman Lebersfeld. The world is richer for his presence and may it continue to grow wealthier for many, many years to come. Let us all say… amen. OK, so I love my father too. -E
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8/9/2006 10:25 am
Hello all. I’m sorry for not communicating for a couple of days. In this case, no news is good news. Herman is now disconnected from all tubes, wires and needles. He is enjoying his new found freedom. He is now able to get his antibiotics with just pills. His greatest risk now is not from infection or other medical complications, it is from a bashed in head. My mother will kill him if he doesn’t start to take it easy. He is definitely pushing the envelope of acceptable activity. No surprise, but I hope he doesn’t go too far. My mother was just becoming proficient at infusing his medication. It was two hour process that had to be done four times a day. I actually do not believe she will miss it.
I am moving to Florida tomorrow morning. I will however, keep the updates going, but there may be a few day hiatus because I won’t have a computer. Till then….
-Me
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8/17/2006 1:52 pm
Howdy from Sunny Florida. It appears that the gods were conspiring to keep me and my family in NJ. We arrived at the airport last Thursday morning right after they had tightened security due to that terrorism scare. Now, I did not try to get out of Saigon in 1973, but this was about as crazy as I could deal with. Now I am here in Boca and working in an office with my brother Ken and all is getting settled. We haven’t shared a room since I was five and he used to make my bed for me. He always made the best hospital corners. He did make my lunch today however. It was a chicken wrap… and now that I’m thinking about it, I could swear it had hospital corners. Hmmm…
OK, enough about me, on to the one you have all been waiting for.
The big H is still doing well. He began occupational therapy on his hand a couple of days ago and has been very diligent about doing his exercises. He actually overdid it. A series of exercises that he was supposed to do five times a day, he did about 40 times. This was not so good, but he won’t do it again. He may get his stitches out today when he visits the hand surgeon. He still has a long way to go for full functionality on his hand and his doctors tell him he is not out of the woods yet. It’s still very swollen and he does not have full sensitivity. But if there’s anyone who can find his way out of the woods, it’s Herman. I’m a bit concerned he may start to like the “big hand” look. And if it’s not so sensitive, he’ll start to implant some tools in his hand. Lift the nail of the ring finger and the thumb and index finger become a spot welder. I’m sure he’ll be good, most of the time. He says he’s going in to East Hanover tomorrow to go over his desk. If Adele can’t stop him, that’s where he’ll be.
-Me
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Today 5/26/2014
Almost 8 years since that experience. I realize that if Facebook existed back then, I may have used that instead of mass emails to communicate the updates.
Herman is doing great. In fact, I posted this a few weeks ago on Facebook. Daddy Going Strong!
Once upon a time, there was a baker in a bakery about to make a loaf of bread with a big ball of dough.
Just before the baker was about to put the dough in the over, the Dough said, “Hey baker, I don’t want to be a loaf of bread. I want to be part of something new, something different, a real taste sensation. Give me ten minutes.”
The baker said, “I don’t know what you have in mind, but be back in ten minutes, I have hungry people to feed.”
The Dough rolled off the counter and out the bakery and into the Italian restaurant next door. He rolled into the kitchen and called to the tomato sauce that was going to go on some spaghetti, “Tomato sauce, don’t go on that spaghetti, come with me and we can make a new taste sensation.” And the tomato sauce said, “OK.”
Then the Dough rolled out of the restaurant and into the cheese shop. He said to the cheese that was going to be put with some crackers, “Cheese, don’t go with those crackers. Come with me and we can make something wonderful.” And the Cheese said, “OK.”
Then the Dough rolled out of the cheese shop and up to the vegetable stand. He said to the peppers, mushrooms and onions that were about to go in a salad, “Vegetables don’t go
in that salad. Come with me and we can make something fantastic.” And the Vegetables said, “OK.”
Then the Dough rolled away from the vegetable stand and rolled into the delicatessen. He said to the pepperoni that was going to go on a pepperoni sandwich, “Pepperoni, don’t go on
that sandwich. Come with me and we can make something awesome.” And the pepperoni said, “OK.”
Then the Dough and the Cheese and the Sauce and the Vegetables and the Pepperoni went back to the bakery.
The baker said to the dough, “Ahh, I think I know what to do now.”
And the Baker took the dough and threw it high in the air and spun it and rolled it till it was nice and flat and round.
Then he took the Sauce and he spread it all over the Dough.
Then he took the Cheese and he sprinkled it all over the Sauce.
Then he took the Peppers, Mushrooms and Onions and tossed them over the Cheese.
Then he took the Pepperoni and placed them on the Vegetables.
Then he put it all in the oven for ten minutes.
When the timer binged, he opened the door and slid the creation out of the oven.
He took a slicer and cut the circular pie into eight pieces.
He then took one slice and picked it up, and took a big bite.
He exclaimed, “Mama Mia. This is a taste sensation! I’ll call it ‘Pizza’ because everyone will want a ‘piece a’ this pie. I know that some will say, ‘oh, the cheese is the best part,’ and some will say, ‘no, the sauce is the best part’ and some will say, ‘no, the toppings are best part,’ but for me the best part will always be the crust because the crust came from the Dough. And this was all Dough’s idea!”
And that is the story of the very first pizza.
Make It a Good Story 