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Westerville, Ohio is my home of 34 years. I have made a living and raised a family. I have lived in Westerville longer than I lived in, Ashtabula, Ohio, the city of my youth.
I returned to Ashtabula for a few days last week. I drank beer and told stories with Daryl "Mac" McIntyre. Mac and I drank a lot of beer and once lived the stories that old men now tell of their misspent youth. A friend from Ashtabula is the most loyal of friends. We will always have each others back. I found life-long friends in Ashtabula. Especially, Mac, Wiz, and Double.
I saw the sunset on Lake Erie which is still the most beautiful of all sunsets. You can see the sunrise and sunset in the summer on Ohio's north coast. I was reminded of taking Robin to see the sunset and wait to see the August meteor showers at Walnut Beach. I found love in the eyes of a brown eyed girl from Ashtabula, Ohio.
I saw family if only briefly. My childhood was filled with the interactions of two large extended families. My cousins were friends. I found council in the wise wisdom of aunts and uncles including many great aunts and uncles. My grandmother was a loving matriarch. I can still smell homemade bread cooling and taste the sweetness of fresh fried dough.
I picked up tools when I was in Ashtabula. My mom calling me her handyman. Picking up tools, I smiled. I could sense my Dad. I followed him around as a kid taking in every lesson on how to fix it if it was broken. How to build it if you wanted it. With tools in my hands, my Dad taught me to be self-reliant.
I ate at my mom's table when I was back home in Ashtabula. As a good Italian lady, my mom asked if we were hungry as soon as walked in the house. I ate as I recalled all the times my mom sat with me at the table after I arrived home well after dinner from wrestling, football, or work. My mom showed loved by knowing the power of being there for the ones you loved. She always put the needs of others first.
My family makes our home in Westerville, Ohio. I have earned a living and made a difference in the lives of children in central Ohio. I feel blessed for the life we share in our home in Westerville, Ohio.
I am and will always be a humble kid from Ashtabula, Ohio. I am the son of a steelworker. I am a son of a first-generation American. Ashtabula is the place where I caused mischief with my true and loyal friends. Where I experienced the joy of two large extended families. The place where I fell in love with Robin, my brown-eyed girl. Most importantly, I am humbled to be the son of Dick and Marie. Two parents who loved each other, who taught us to be self-reliant, and were always there for the ones they loved.

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