The heart inside you holds a world That none but you have fully known; A distance and an era gone, As tears pool in your eyes alone For it's not right that only you Should hold all that within your soul, As you are just a child of earth, And holding worlds is a Celestial role
I am a simple guy: I like simple things, like pizza.
My father used to make pizza at home, and some of my earliest memories were sitting on a countertop, watching my dad spin dough and spread sauce, cheeeze and ingredients on it. Ground beef, mushrooms and black olives were his go-to ingredients.
His was my favorite pizza in the world, with the possible exception of a place called “Tony’s Pizza” we would sometimes go to.
It didn’t look that old at the time, which is one of the oddities about the past. The past was every bit as colorful and alive as the present — just not in photos.
A man I worked with for almost twenty years died this last week. He was a brilliant man, and very kind and patient man, as well. People at work were trading stories about him, his legendarily vast store of knowledge and historical trivia, his idiosyncratic eating habits. I just remember that he always found time for whoever might approach him with a question.
Sometimes all the people you’ve lost seem like a crowd of people, who are somewhere nearby, just not a place you’ve found yet. Other times, it feels like that entire crowd is inside your head, just trying to get out.
Maybe to get to Tony’s Pizza. It’s where I would go.