stiffwillichili

Stiff Willi in Park City

I ran across this photo today while I was cleaning out my cell phone. It's from a promo way back in January in Utah. Pictured with me are my buddy's boys, Michael and Jack.

 

My Dad, the Cat (And Apologies to the Girls from My 8/19 Cooking Class)

Last Tuesday my mom called me at work to tell me my father collapsed while taking their new puppy to the vet. Noticeably shaken, she couldn't really tell me much more than that, but when I asked if he was breathing she said, "yeah, but that's all."

Little did either of us know she was wrong about that.

My dad has had his share of health problems ever since he was almost killed at work 25 years ago when he suffered a devastating head injury on a construction site. Nothing like preparing to lose a father when you're in 7th grade. He was hit on the head with a piece of rebar while standing on the side of a drott. At the time he was a 39-year-old superintendent and was talking to the drott operator when the rebar sprang from a piece of concrete and struck him, knocking him out cold and sending him face-first onto a pile of rubble. It was the first time in his career he wasn't wearing his hard hat in the field.

As a super of a construction project, he probably should've known better than to walk outside without head protection. According to his doctor, however, had he been wearing a hard hat he likely would've been killed almost instantly -- I can't remember the exact rationale given at the time, but I recall hearing something about the velocity of the rebar shattering the plastic helmet and sending fragments into his skull. Dad was in a coma for two weeks, and we were told that 5 percent of patients suffering his extent of head trauma actually live. A month or so later, he walked out of the hospital.

One life down, eight to go.

Though my dad got extremely lucky back then and, miraculously, really only suffered some vision loss in one eye in the short term -- I remember insurance affording him one free pair of Serengeti sunglasses every year -- this injury has contributed to increasing memory loss over the years, and there's actually a portion of his brain today that essentially is dead. Not a bad trade-off, though, everything considered.

Fast-forward to a year-and-a-half ago. My parents were in town visiting for the weekend. Early on a Sunday morning my wife and I were woken by my mother's screaming. My first thought was that my son, who was one-and-a-half at the time, wasn't breathing, and I almost shit my pants as I ran out of my bedroom to see what was going on. I saw my mom pounding on my dad's chest in the guest bedroom and she said he wasn't breathing. By the time I got over to him he let out a couple weird snoring sounds and started to wake up, completely groggy. He had wet the bed, which to my knowledge is never a good sign. By the time the paramedics showed up my dad said he was fine. They took him to the hospital and monitored him and couldn't tell what had happened. Normally that would be because we live in southern Maryland (where, to put it politely, it's a challenge to find a decent doctor), but he was put through a battery of tests by his doctors in Buffalo when he got home and they said his heart and brain looked fine. Eventually he was diagnosed with sleep apnea.

Two lives down, seven to go.

This brings us back to last week. By Wednesday I'd learned that my dad collapsed as a result of ventricular tachycardia and did not breathe for 19 minutes until medics arrived and finally got his heart started after defibrillating him twice. In medical terms, he suffered sudden cardiac death and technically was dead by the time he hit the floor. In fact, if it weren't for Dr. Dick Payne (stop laughing, I'm not making that up) and his wife and other quick responders at the veterinary clinic who performed CPR and chest compressions, Dad wouldn't even have made it long enough for the ambulance to matter.

The most ironic part about this whole story is that my dad, a cat fan, doesn't really even like dogs. But they got a Pomeranian puppy and he's apparently in love with the thing (maybe because it looks like a cat). They took the dog -- Brutus -- to their friends' house last Monday night and its eye was scratched by the family cat. That's why my dad was at the vet in the first place instead of at home alone, where he usually spends his days working around the house, fixing up rooms here and there while my mom is at work. (He's been on and off work for the better part of the past 15 years. Age and his original head injury have worked in tandem to significantly hinder his short-term memory, making it very difficult for him to hold down jobs requiring one to, well, remember things from one day to the next.) So, I probably don't have to explain how events would've otherwise unfolded last week had my father been at home by himself when his heart gave out.

Three lives down, six to go.

Anyhow, once I learned how grave this situation was I knew I had to fly home as soon as I could, which, unfortunately, was Thursday morning. That meant I had to cancel a cooking class -- a birthday party, no less -- I was supposed to give that had been scheduled for the past two months. So I want to apologize to the ladies who were expecting my presence last week. Please blame my father!

I got to Buffalo General by noon on Thursday and hung out with my mom until my dad was out of surgery to implant a defibrillator/pacemaker device in his chest. The procedure went well and I was able to visit Dad for a couple hours. Later that evening I met up with my good buddy Daren and grabbed some dinner and beers, but that meant I missed the awesome home-cooked meal that was prepared at the Kevin Guest House, a hospitality house where my mom was staying that is maintained in large part through donations and the help of volunteers. It turned out that one of the volunteers was Derek Smith, a former Buffalo Sabres player my dad always liked.

When my mom texted me saying that Derek was there eating dinner with them, Daren and I left the pub for a half-hour to meet him, and right away you could tell he exhibited the class that Sabres players (and for the most part, hockey players in general) have always been known for. After Daren and I returned to our IPAs and chicken wings, my mom told Derek that my father would love his autograph. Instead, Derek said he would just go visit my dad Friday morning.

 
Dad with Derek Smith

After I got home last weekend, I received an email from Derek saying it was nice to meet me and my family, and that he hopes my dad recovers quickly. Pretty stand-up guy right there. Suffice to say, I sent him a sample of my spice mix and pepper sauce, an admittedly paltry thanks in comparison to what his gesture meant to my father, but I hope to be able to hang out with him again. Derek, if you read this, maybe T-Rev's Stiff Willi Chili can help sponsor an upcoming Sabres alumni fundraiser.

As for you, Dad, normally I'd wish you a speedy recovery and the best of luck, but by my count you can scare the hell out of us at least five more times before we really need to start worrying. But, just in case ... get well soon!

My Little Stud

Two-year-old Biggie Smalls, of Peppers fame, may just have a bright future. One can hope, anyway, 'cuz Daddy needs a meal plan.

Check out this youtube video, complete with token shot to the balls at the end. Unfortunately, I couldn't embed it here because it was too truncated.

Jamaica 2010

I know I've been slacking with the posts, but things have been crazy lately. Plus, I was in Jamaica with the family all last week without an internet connection. On the bright side, however, I was able to speak with the GM of the Iberostar resort about potentially adding T-Rev's Stiff Willi Chili Pepper Sauce to their condiments lineup, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Probably the longest of long shots, but how awesome would that be?

I also met a very nice guy named George who owns a skin care products company in NJ called Chamonix, and he's currently considering adding my spice mix and pepper sauce to his catalog that goes out to approximately 200k people. Some networking pays off, some doesn't, but you don't get anywhere without good folks who at least offer to help you out -- so now the burden of proof is on the products themselves!

With that, here are some cool family pics from our vacation business research/marketing trip.

 
Biggie Smalls getting excited on the descent into Jamaica.

 
Playing poolside shuffleboard with the big kids.

Someone was ready for the beach. And someone wasn't.

 
An SI-worthy action-grab right there ...

 
GANJA BOAT!!!

 

 
Thanks to new friends Caryn and Tom, we managed to get at least one family photo from the entire vacation. Thanks, guys!

 
Biggie had a great time with his new friend, too. Here he relaxes with Caryn and Tom's 2-year-old daughter. (My policy is not to publish kids' names without permission, so for now we'll just leave it at that.)

Headin' to Jamaica, Mon!

I'm off to Jamaica with the wife and Biggie Smalls to research new recipes for rubs and marinades! We figured it would be fun to take the boy on vacation before his little brother is born in October because the trips will probably be few and far between after that.

Be back soon, hopefully with some great photos and menu ideas!

Captain Brady's Olean Adventure

A couple weeks ago the family accompanied me to my hometown, Olean, NY, so we could cheer on our friend Brady who competed in an aerobatic competition about 15 miles from my parents' house. Brady, who's got dibs to captain Stiff Willi One should I ever be lucky enough to rival Tabasco, finished second in his competition. Personally I think he got hosed, but I could barely fly in a two-seat plane without wetting my pants, much less judge the pilot. So what do I know?

All in all we had a great time, and our friends Rico and Melissa even drove down from Rochester to hang out with us the first night. Here are some nice photos of Brady's practice session, courtesy of Melissa.

 
Biggie Smalls takes some flights of his own with Uncle Rico.

Dad, Mom, me, and Melissa

Erin helps Brady prep for his practice flight.

Melissa and her trademark smile

 
Uncle Rico rockin' a T-Rev's Stiff Willi Chili shirt and some hot thighs to boot. Biggie looks like he can hang though!

Happy Father's Day to All You Mothers

Hallmark holidays are a great opportunity to get your spouse/significant other gifts you otherwise wouldn't mind getting yourself. I admit I'm guilty of this myself; when my wife and I first started dating, I got her a beard trimmer for Christmas. (And she still married me, so I guess the joke's on her!)

But my wife's always pretty good about getting me stuff she knows I'll like too. Like this morning when I got a Kodak handheld waterproof video camera and a Cuisinart 5-in-1 Griddler. For the record, there's nothing wrong with getting someone stuff you yourself actually need or want, because if we didn't have good uses for these as a family, I'd be entirely pissed that she spent this much money just on me.

We're taking Biggie Smalls to Jamaica the week of July 4th on a little family getaway before his brother is born in October, so the video camera is pretty self-explanatory. It's a cool gadget and will come in handy, especially since I'll now be able to take short video clips of chili promos or even start putting some cooking demos up on the blog.

And because I like to cook, I'm pretty sure the Griddler was mostly about me. (Any doubts I had were put to rest when I had to cook my own Father's Day breakfast.) Generally I'm not a fan of gimmicky cooking tools like garlic presses or anything from companies like Pampered Chef (except for their wet/dry measuring cup), and that usually extends to things like electric griddles and panini presses, but Cuisinart's Griddler impressed me this morning. It's versatile -- you can use it as a press or open it up as a full grill or griddle, and the grates are reversible and machine washable (a big plus) -- but my two favorite features are its actually-non-stick non-stick surfaces and grease trap that actually catches the grease. And lo and behold, the company actually knows how to use the term "panini" -- it was written in its correct plural form on the box and in the instruction manual. Sorry for all the actuallies, but like I said, I was impressed. Actually.

So Happy Father's Day to all you dads. As I learned a few years ago, it's not about getting cool gifts; it's about the cool gifts that turn you into a father in the first place.

Pitcher and Pizza Night with Ben at 'The Door'

Last night my wife, Amie, and son, Jake (henceforth referred to as "Biggie Smalls"), joined me as we hung out with Ben Clark and the rest of his posse for pitcher and pizza night at the infamous Green Door in St. Mary's City.

Imagine my surprise when I walked in and saw Ben rocking a T-Rev's Stiff Willi Chili t-shirt while enjoying a refreshing cocktail. Here I am trying to do what I can to support a friend losing his battle with brain cancer, and he's the one supporting me. Typical Ben.

Many thanks to my friend Kim for taking these great photos!

 
Ben and Amie

 
Ben, Amie, and Biggie Smalls with Mel and KC in the background

 
Ben and me

 
Does it get better than this?

 
L to R: MomMom, Mike (foreground), Ben, Rick, and me