Letter from the Editor: Fall 2019
My son was born on Thanksgiving of 2011, and I’ll never forget family streaming into our hospital room carrying delicious packages of roasted turkey legs, cheese burek, garlic mashed potatoes, cranb...
Letter from the Editor: Winter 2019
My love affair with sports started at an early age while sitting in a booth at A&W with my father. Whenever we would go, which was often, my dad would grab a paper and immediately flip to the sports page, as if no other news mattered. We frequently played a game where I tried to guess the box scores. Baseball was the usual sport of choice, but we would go through them all: stats, players, cities, etc. I think back to the times I spent watching the 1980’s Brewers on T.V. with him, it was something we bonded over. At the time I’m not sure if I liked watching sports or just spending time with my father and acting like a grown-up (because all grown-ups watch sports).
My father loved boxing; he would take me all over the state to watch amateur matches. I would routinely find myself in smoky taverns or eating in blue collar diners watching title matches with my dad’s surly friends. When I was a troubled teenager, he even signed me up to box with US Olympic Coach, Israel Acosta, at the United Community Center. My boxing career might not have lasted long, but I would eventually start producing a documentary about Israel “Shorty” Acosta.
My father passed away two years ago and my fondest memories of him are sports and food related. It feels like yesterday that the two of us were tailgating at Miller Park, drinking High Life and snacking on peanuts. This issue is dedicated to the world of sports and food. It only touches the surface of the stories we wanted to tell but the stories we tell, are inspiring. I hope my dad would be proud.
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