Some of my earliest memories regarding pizza involved spending Saturday nights at home, in Oak Park, Illinois, with my brothers and sisters. We would watch The Love Boat
and Fantasy Island
and order pizza from neighborhood places like Capizi's, Salerno's, and Grand Slam.
Our pizza nights were not without incident. On occasion, when I'd bite into a slice, the cheese would slide off.
"My pizza broke!" I'd exclaim.
My siblings would put the cheese back on, but I was inconsolable -- I could not be convinced to eat that mishapen slice.
These pizza nights happened with an assured regularity. But time marches on. The house in Oak Park would change hands over time. Capizi's would shutter and The Love Boat
would sail only in reruns.
But the one thing that remains reliably constant and immune to the ravages of time is pizza -- which I love to this very day.
I just don't cry as much now when the cheese falls off.
Copyright © 2018 by Dan Bransfield. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.