-Another early memory is of my Dad making pizza on the countertop in our apartment in Union Deposit. The counter top seemed to me a mile long but when I went back many years later it was barely big enough to lay two plates on side by side.

I remember looking up and watched him as he laid out the dough in the pan and then put sauce and cheese on it. I wanted to get closer to get a better view. Everything seemed so far away from down there. I moved towards the oven. Dad put his hand down in front of me. “No, don’t go over there its HOT.” He wasn’t being mean just warning me that I might get burned. The white oven would heat up almost as hot on that outside as it did on the inside. HOT was my first word.

I remember being in awe of my Dad making pizza. Why I remember this I don’t know. Maybe the pizza was really good?