The Picnic Basket Entrepreneur
Joshua adored adventures with just his 3 kids without mama like the time they braved through the pushing through the more than expected runny current within the water hole in Woodstock, NY because it brought them closer together as a scrappy, fearless, home team on the road. Since baby Samuel was born, Joshua’s lucky number 3 was born 3 years ago, he was accustomed to going on many weekend adventures with his 3 kids because mama normally worked the evening till morning shit as nurse on a Friday night, leaving plenty of Saturday afternoons open to get creative with their time, give daddy’s brain a rest from making the universe laugh and seek out fun filled experiences, that Mama would feel excluded from and sulk a result, running their collective good time such as tackle soccer, trips to the driving range or venture into Central Park to throw the their new Beamo, around the Great Lawn in Central Park, only to realize it was more a glamorized, unkempt, semi-sprawling putting green.
Joshua loved to read stuff Mama would never read to hear kids on his ordained day rest every Saturday, such the book, The Joy of Yiddish, an dictionary with infinite examples of jokes to explain the depth and variety of this expressive, human condition of all forms encompassing language, finding a way to seep its way into Hollywood and modern culture at the large such as the word schlep. Joshua’s in-laws lived in Delaware, which was closer than his parents, retired in Scottsdale, Arizona. Still, it was impossible for Joshua to not derive a burst of Do It All Dad Jewish pride, when the subject of taking a trip to Delaware was broached for Memorial Day weekend, before his 9 year old daughter Matilda, says, “Delaware is such a schlep daddy.”
There wasn’t one Friday night now, where Joshua wasn’t thrilled to spend it with his 3 favorite people in the universe, his cherished children, Matilda, Arthur and Samuel, who lived to spend quality time with daddy with mama at work, so they can do the Shabbat prayers together over the Challah, partake in space alien colonized synagogue drawing contents soon after, before the dance off to the Greatest Hits of the Beastie Boys on vinyl at home would ensue. Tackle basketball with nerf ball upstairs in Arthur and Samuel’s room would always get party started up in here. Every Friday night now, after the sunset, Joshua’s children got the best version of him because he was done writing for the week and was able to bask in the Shabbat candle, flickering afterglow of his blemish free children, inside and out, as they played Barbie, sang, danced, built wine castles with magnet tiles, let their imaginations run wild or just jumped on top their daddy, from every conceivable direction and hug him with all their might, to give the best of their love. If mama was home for a Friday night, she’d push for some recent Disney film, that got lot’s of NPR hype, versus Joshua would insist on exposing his 3 beamish, fuss free kids 90 percent of the time, to more classic, hilarious, life enriching movies such as Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Uncle Buck, Back To School, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, knowing dropping f bombs wasn’t kosher come rain or shine .
If he had to choose, Joshua would take his snuggling, heart deepening forties with his 3 kids over his frantic, booze heavy loaded, perpetual hound dog, lucky to get out alive LA in his twenties and contract some new strain of HIV, even Magic couldn’t make disappear in a NY minute. Joshua loved to teach his kids kettle belle cowboy swinging exercises and core strengthening plank exercises with them, only for his beautiful 6-year-old boy to jump on to his back for the remaining 39 left. Joshua loved to watch GI Joe toy collection videos on You Tube on their fairly big flat screen, to give his kids some big Kahuna gifts like the GI Joe Command Center with a jail cell for Zartan to get excited about, once his writing career took off the ground already, after already blowing a mini fortune on the original Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes from 82. Poison, Nothing But A Good Time would be playing on 95.1 FM, the local classic rock station for Westchester County and nearby CT, promoting Joshua to say, “The kids love this song.” Only for his wife to say, “They just love because you do.” Deep down, Joshua felt it was deeper that it. Joshua knew his children were unabashed, kick ass, patriotic, rock and roll loving Americans, who both respected and adored, any manifestation of you better recognize attitude, relentless, self-belief powered aggressiveness, unabashed weirdo flair and major league, kiss ass at costs, gaul. Joshua could watch his daughter Matilda, ride her bike in the nearby, empty parking lot as his son Arthur zipped around on his scooter, as his younger brother Chosen Curls chose to zip around superfast earning his nickname Super Flash, for hours if he wasn’t still freezing his balls off in May, as the Metro North train passed by, as their dad would sing in out of tune, playful fashion, “Dinosaur train, Dinosaur train.” Before Baby Samuel was born Joshua took Matilda and Arthur to a Kid Rock show in Hartford, CT, just so they could hear his latest hit single First Kiss, by Kid Rock, only to sing in blissed out, nirvana peaking unison, “With Tom Petty on the radio. If I could just go back in time to fall in love with you again.” Now, when Joshua heard She’s The One by Bruce Springsteen on a Friday night on the Born Run album on Vinyl, he’d dance like man possessed with the most extreme, ecstatic type of love, no MDMA required because his love of being a dad to the closest three best friends he never had, who loved everything about him and all his passions and dreams, in addition to his annoying tendency to interrupt them and yell more than he should like most native New Yorkers do.
Joshua learned spontaneous plans versus plotted out ones using the localized search powered Yelp app was guaranteed to provide more magic and surprise delights on the horizon. Today, Joshua and his 3 kids went inside a mini, sit down, designed to be a picnic to go take out fancy sandwich shop called Perfect Picnic on Central Park West in the high nineties, tailor made of shishy bitches himself, offering a plethora of baguettes, fig spreads and goat cheese spreads to get any Kosher practicing, part time vegetarian off long time. There, Joshua recognized the woman owner of the shop saying, “Wait a minute, I could’ve sworn we met at coffee shop on Houston in SOHO, when you about to pitch this picnic to go concept ages almost 12 years ago. I remember you telling me how your parenting gets really exiting when they turn 4 and older.” The Perfect Picnic owner says, “I can’t believe you remember this conversation. My daughter was 4 before my Perfect Picnic pitch to a VC investor, right around the time, I just gotten divorced, that’s correct”
Joshua proceeded to charm her panties off with plenty of dad material later such as, “God didn’t give me 3 unplanned kids to have a panic over it. Obviously, God never had the same confidence in Pete Davidson, the rebound boy king voice of Generation Z.” But for all stroking Joshua had done in honor on his Do It All Dad Year podcast, blogs and books, he also made it crystal clear, none of his awe inspiring creative output would’ve been possible without his Do It All Mom nurse wife. Do It All Moms who did their best to make the most of out a shitty situation, like Joshua’s wife choosing to work nights, enabling her to spend more time with her kids while giving her husband more freedom to write, sell books and secure an advertiser for his podcast already. But a single Do It All Mom, doing everything on her own, was rarified feat, deserving the highest praise imaginable in Joshua’s eyes, because as baby boomer God, Bob Dylan captures beautifully in his son Visions of Johana, “Tell me someone, that’s not a parasite, and I’ll say a prayer for him.” Being an ex IT recruiter agency journey man recruiter, who fashioned himself as an overlooked, funnier Henry Miller, who used to live off Anis Nin during his STD catching Paris years, hit more home than Joshua preferred to admit.