Piping Hot Pizza!

Piping Hot Pizza!

“No one is so brave that he is not disturbed by something unexpected.”

Julius Caesar

When our girls were preteens, they went to summer camp near Yosemite. They loved it, and made friends they are still close with today.

The camp sits on the edge of a lake in the low Sierras, outside of the west gate of Yosemite. Memories from camp still come up in their conversations. My wife and I would drive there each summer to pick them up, and, except for the year we got there the day after we were supposed to pick them up, all went smoothly.

They were always happy to see us, and at the same time, not so happy to see us. Camp was over, and they would miss the fun and their friends.

Hoping to add a little cheer on one of our drives home, we decided to stop in Fresno for a late lunch at an Italian restaurant. The girls wanted pizza, of course, to continue on the path of healthy eating they had so firmly established at camp.

We sat at a red-checkered table for four. The waitress came out briskly, carrying a large pizza on an aluminum pan at shoulder height. In her other hand was a collapsible pizza stand.

As she strode away to refill drinks, the pizza stand did indeed collapse. The pizza flipped upside down, over my arms and torso. In a moment, I was covered with scalding hot cheese, tomato sauce, mushrooms, and no olives, green peppers, or onions.

Jumping up, I flung the mess off me, as the waitress rushed in with wet towels.

When things calmed down a bit, she headed back toward the kitchen, cheerfully calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back with another pizza!”

I said the only thing that came to mind, “Is that a threat?”

So, the girls did have some fun that day, for, after all, what better way to lift your spirits than to see your dad, and his formerly white shirt, covered in pizza, with no olives or green peppers or onions?

Ahh… the things we do for our children.

-Hank