What Sparks My Admiration

What is something others do that sparks your admiration?

There are a few things people do that hit me right in the soft part of my heart…. the part I pretend I don’t have, but we all know is there.

1. Family-Oriented People

Whenever I see those families out at dinner, laughing, talking, kids half-behaving and half-wild, I can’t help but stop and watch for a moment. There’s something about that tight-knit family energy that sparks admiration in me. Maybe a little jealousy, sure, but mostly admiration.

It’s that classic, picture-perfect “white picket fence” vibe, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s together. And even if I’ll never have that exact version in my own life, I love seeing people who do. There’s beauty in the simplicity of showing up for each other.

2. Humble, Successful People

Then there are the quiet giants… the ones who’ve built something, achieved something, earned something… and still treat everyone with kindness. The “treat the janitor the same as the CEO” kind of people.

Those people have my full attention. They’re the kind of people who remind me the world doesn’t need more loud victories, it needs more quiet dignity. I try to model myself after them, and honestly? I treat people with respect pretty damn well. Sometimes better than I treat myself.

3. Focused and Disciplined People

And finally… the focused ones. The disciplined ones. The people who hold their goals like a compass and somehow balance work, family, life, stress, and dreams without dropping everything on the floor.

Watching someone stay committed, whether it’s to their career, their family, or their own personal growth is inspiring. It reminds me that staying locked in is a daily choice, not a personality trait.

Stop Judging, Start Living

The Villain in the Mirror

Nothing has changed. I’m still a nonbeliever…. in God, religion, all of it. What I do believe is that someone sat down, wrote a book called The Bible, and poured in some pretty solid advice.

But let’s be honest… it’s still a campfire story that millions of people decided to hitch their wagon to. And you know what? I get it. People need to believe in something.

Here’s the kicker though, if you’ve ever read the Bible, whether as a believer or just for curiosity’s sake, you’ve probably seen Matthew 7:1

“Do not judge, or you too shall be judged.”

Now, THAT’S a verse worth tattooing across society’s forehead. Before you bash someone, talk behind their back, or start some petty rumor… stop. Take a second to look in the mirror. And don’t just see the shiny version of yourself you want to believe in. Look hard enough to see the flaws, the shadows, the villain you don’t admit you are.

Because here’s the truth: if we spent half as much time lifting people up as we do tearing them down, we’d live in a completely different world. Better neighborhoods. Stronger communities. Happier humans.

And newsflash, different isn’t bad. People come from every walk of life. Different beliefs. Different styles. Different looks. Even identical twins aren’t carbon copies.

I’m not pretending I’m some influencer with millions of readers. Most of you won’t even see this. But if even one person does, and decides to stop judging and start helping, then the ripple begins. Positivity spreads the same way negativity does… but only if we let it.

So here’s my challenge: stop worrying about who doesn’t act like you, think like you, or live like you. That doesn’t give you the right to drag them down.

Be better. Be kinder. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find you’re actually living a happier life.

The Greatest Innovation Happens From Iteration

“The greatest innovation happens from iteration.” – Jesse Cole, Savannah Bananas

Jesse Cole didn’t reinvent baseball with one big idea. He did it by trying, failing, tweaking, and trying again, over and over, until the Savannah Bananas became the phenomenon they are today. And that’s a lesson that resonates far beyond the ballpark.

At Basil’s, it’s the same story. Nothing we do lands perfectly on the first try. Some of the best things on our menu were born from long nights in the kitchen, too much caffeine, and a few batches of wing sauce that should’ve been labeled “hazardous materials.” That soup recipe everyone raves about? It didn’t just happen…. it was stirred, tested, adjusted, and cursed at until it finally tasted like comfort in a bowl.

Failure Is the Seasoning of Success

We all love the idea of getting it right on the first swing, but truth is, success tastes a lot like failure, you just have to keep seasoning it until it works. Every burned batch, every half-baked idea, every “nope, not that one” gets us closer to the version that sticks.

But here’s the part nobody talks about: even the greatest recipe won’t succeed if your team isn’t bought in.

Teams Win, Not Individuals

The Savannah Bananas aren’t just Jesse Cole’s vision, they’re a whole team of players who believe in that vision enough to put on a show every single game. Same goes for Basil’s. I can spend hours perfecting sauces, writing menus, or tweaking specials, but if the people behind the bar, in the kitchen, and on the floor don’t share the dream, then the whole thing falls flat.

You can’t build lasting success without buy-in. Employees, just like players, have to believe in the direction, trust the playbook, and feel like they’re part of the bigger picture. Without that, success isn’t just harder…. it’s nearly impossible.

Iteration Never Ends

That’s the beautiful part: iteration isn’t a stage you finish, it’s the process itself. Whether it’s food, service, or team culture, we’re constantly reworking, improving, and adapting. Some days it feels like two steps forward, one step back. But as long as we keep moving, the dream keeps building.

The Bananas proved you can rewrite the rules of baseball. We’re proving every day at Basil’s that you can rewrite the rules of what a sports bar can be. It just takes iteration, belief, and a team willing to swing at every pitch, even the wild ones.

So yeah, the greatest innovation happens from iteration. And around here, that means late nights, bold flavors, and a crew that shows up ready to win together. The only attitude is a positive attitude and buy-in requires a real effort not lazy individualization.

“God’s Plan”… Or Your Plan?

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts lately about people wondering what God’s plan is for them, or crediting (or blaming) every twist in their life on some mysterious divine roadmap.

But, hear me out….. what if there is no plan? Not trying to start a holy war amongst friends, but….

What if there’s no cosmic blueprint with your name on it, no puppet strings pulling you toward success or failure? What if you are the one holding the pen, writing your own damn story?

It takes more than prayer and patience to build the life you want. It takes thought, desire, and a whole lot of trust in yourself. You want a better job? Apply. Want to get healthier? Put in the work. Want to find love? Go where the people are and take a shot.

To seriously believe that a higher power made you fail or made you succeed, that’s pure hokum. If you believe God is paving the way for you, fine… but at some point, you have to step off the prayer rug, put on some boots, and start walking. Otherwise, you’ll eventually become a pile of dust waiting for that sign!

Because ultimately?

It’s not divine intervention that gets you there.

It’s you.

Patio Potential: Why Ours Isn’t Working… and Our Attempt to Bring It to Life

Let’s be real for a second, our patio is ok. It’s got sturdy tables, comfy chairs, big umbrellas with our logo, and a front-row seat to a beautiful West Virginia backdrop. But here’s the hard truth… nice isn’t enough.

Right now, our patio is like that friend who has all the right clothes but never gets invited to the party because they just stand in the corner sipping water. It’s clean, it’s ready, but it’s missing that spark…. in all seriousness it’s a corner of the parking lot and the vibe isn’t really hitting! The thing that makes people want to be here, laugh here, and post about it online, doesn’t really exist YET!

So, why isn’t it working?

1. There’s No “Scene” (Open to Suggestions)

People are drawn to energy. A packed patio makes more people want to sit outside. An empty one… not so much. If there’s no live music, no games, (we had games, the kids broke them all) no conversation flowing, it’s easy for folks to just choose the table inside.

2. We’re Not Creating FOMO

Social media should be showing people what they’re missing. If the only thing they see online is a picture of an empty table, they’ll assume it’s quiet and skip it.

3. The Experience Doesn’t Feel Different

If eating outside feels exactly the same as eating inside (just with more sunlight), people will pick comfort over heat, wind, or bugs. The patio has to offer something special.

How We’re Going to Change That( Or at least attempt change)

Alright, enough with the diagnosis…. here’s the cure.

Step 1: Make It Look Alive

String lights, colorful flowers, maybe a firepit when the nights cool down. Outdoor games like ring toss (again) or giant Jenga to keep the atmosphere casual and fun. We want people driving by to see action and think, “What’s going on over there?”

Step 2: Social Media FOMO

We’ll start posting videos of laughter, clinking glasses, and sizzling food coming straight off the grill. Not stock photos — real people, real fun. We’ll tag locals, drop event invites, and make sure every picture says, You should be here.

Step 3: Partner Up

Local breweries & distilleries for some tap take overs and tastings could help.

The Goal

We want Basil’s patio to be the place people think of first when the weather is good. A space where locals know they’ll see friends, hear music, and get a great meal with a side of fresh air.

Spotlights and Second Chances: Why Proactive Policing Matters

We’ve all seen it, those neighborhood watch signs posted on telephone poles, Facebook groups blowing up with posts about car break-ins, porch pirates, and late-night vandals.

But what we don’t see? Active police patrols before the crime.

Now, I’m not saying police don’t patrol. They do. But let’s be real, they don’t patrol the same way after a crime is reported.

It’s the “too little, too late” patrol strategy. A day or a week after something goes down, suddenly the squad cars are doing laps like it’s the Indy 500. And at night? Don’t bother closing your blinds because reactive policing means that spotlight’s gonna light up your living room like you’re hosting a midnight rave.

That’s not community engagement. That’s damage control.

Look, I get it. Manpower is short. Staffing is rough. Budgets are tight. But here’s what I don’t get: how you can swear to “protect and serve,” but only show up after something bad happens.

Before anyone comes at me with “you don’t understand the job”, let me stop you right there.

I was the job. I was the proactive cop. The guy walking the beat, checking in, building relationships in the troubled neighborhoods while the reactive guys were in the report room arguing over Uno rules.

Being proactive isn’t flashy. It doesn’t get headlines. But it builds safer neighborhoods.

So if you’re wearing the badge, wear the responsibility too. Get out of the cruiser, show your face, talk to the people you’re sworn to protect.

Because the truth is, communities remember the officers who were there before the glass shattered, not the ones who showed up shining spotlights at 2am saying, “We’re here now.”

Porch Nights and Empty Chairs

Summer’s ending. The air is shifting… cooler, quieter. The night sky lingers a little longer, and everything starts to slow down. It’s this time of year I remember a ritual I used to love.

After a long day at work, I’d pull into my driveway and glance to the left. Like clockwork, there he’d be, my neighbor, posted up on his porch like a guardian of the neighborhood, cigar in hand and a grin that said, “You bringing the bourbon, or am I?”

I’d park, grab a drink, and make my way over. We’d sit for hours pouring whiskey, puffing cigars, and solving the world’s problems one smoky breath at a time. The bottle would slowly disappear, and eventually, so would we… off to bed, satisfied from the kind of conversation you only get with great friends.

But life, like bourbon, goes fast when you’re not paying attention.

My neighbor’s moved south now. His porch sits empty. Mine might as well. The ritual’s gone. No more late-night debates, no more shared smokes or spontaneous toasts to “just making it through the damn week.” The porch is still there, but the people are not. And porch nights without people? Just wood and weather.

I’ve accepted the change. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I still sit outside some nights, music low, drink in hand. But it’s quieter now. I wonder if those kinds of neighborly bonds even exist anymore. Is it just me? Is sitting on the porch and chatting with your neighbor a thing of the past? Some forgotten relic from when people actually wanted to be present instead of buried in their phones or hiding behind garage doors?

We’ve thought about selling the house. A fresh start, a new chapter. But finding something affordable is one thing, finding a community is another. Will the next neighborhood have porch people? Or just cold stares and HOA warnings for Coda’s excess barking.

Maybe I’m just stuck in the past. But the past??? Man, it had cigars, laughter, and the kind of connection that made even a Wednesday night feel like something worth toasting to.

So I sit, I sip, and I listen for ghosts of conversations past. Change is inevitable. I know. But damn, I miss when change wasn’t so lonely.

The Sounds of Summer

Last night, I took Coda out for one of our nighttime walks…. peaceful, quiet, the kind of night that wraps around you like a favorite old flannel. But then… something unexpected broke the silence.

It started faint. Familiar. A sound I hadn’t heard in a while. As we got closer to a nearby field, it got louder. Laughter, shouts, kids squealing with joy. And suddenly, bam, I was transported.

A bunch of kids were out there, full-on playing football. At 10 p.m. In the pitch dark. Couldn’t see the ball? Didn’t matter. They were just being kids. Free. Wild. Unplugged.

And you know what my first thought was?

Not: “Where are their parents?”

Not: “Call the cops, they’re too loud.”

It was:

“Hell. Yes.”

Finally. Kids. Outside. Playing. Laughing so hard they probably forgot the score, if there even was one.

It hit me right in the feels. Took me back to summer nights in the ‘70s and ‘80s, when we ruled the neighborhood in cut-off shorts and grass-stained knees. No phones. No helmets. Just bikes, baseball bats, and a deeply understood code:

“Come home when the streetlights come on.”

We didn’t need permission to be kids. We didn’t destroy stuff, we didn’t act out. We played. We made memories. We built friendships. And yeah, sometimes we got a little rowdy, but it was the good kind of trouble.

That’s what I saw last night. A rare glimpse of what a great neighborhood sounds like. Laughter bouncing through the night air like a boombox on someone’s porch.

And in a world full of chaos and complaints, that sound? That’s peace.

So here’s my humble, slightly nostalgic request:

Open your doors.

Send the kids out.

Let the night be loud.

Let the game go long.

And let the world hear the soundtrack of childhood again.

Because if your neighborhood doesn’t echo with laughter after dark… what are we even doing?

Fish & Road Rage Fits

A very much needed renovation to Long John Silver’s has wrapped up and the seafood slingers are back in action. Newer, nicer, and busier than ever!

The grand re-opening? Honestly, it might be the most exciting thing to hit Weirton in years. Is it the new hot spot? Maybe. People do love to chase shiny things. And while it’s not an entirely new restaurant, it is a fresher, cleaner, better version of a local classic, and that matters.

From day one, it’s been packed. Cars parked every which way around the building, and drive-thru lines wrapped around like it was giving away PS5s with hush puppies.

For three straight days, the lines poured onto Main Street like it was a deep-fried parade.

I haven’t gone yet, I’m not about that wait-in-line life. I’ll let the hype simmer down and swoop in later for my seafood fix and a little low-key support.

But I have driven by daily, and I’ve gotta say: it’s been heartwarming to see the crowds. A strong showing of community support. I even toss a horn honk or two on my way home from work, just to shout out the hardworking crew wrapping up their shift. A little love never hurt.

But of course… cue the complainers.

Social media lit up like a fish fryer on Good Friday:

Post one: “So proud of our community!”

Post two: “Who designed this parking lot? Stevie Wonder?”

Divide and fry: half the town is cheering, the other half is deep-diving into Google Reviews with pitchforks and pettiness.

Listen, these workers were trained and then immediately thrown into chaos. This wasn’t a normal soft opening with gentle trickles of customers. Nah, they got slammed from minute one with every fish fanatic in a 20-mile radius. So maybe be a little more understanding and patient.

Let’s talk parking. Yeah… it’s still trash. You knew it would be. You remember what it was like before; tight spaces, weird angles, chaotic traffic flow. They rebuilt the restaurant, not the land around it. You knew what you were walking into.

So if you see a line stretching down Main Street like the Christmas parade is starting, maybe just… keep driving? Come back later? Be part of the solution instead of acting like you were personally wronged by a fish sandwich?

Honestly, I love seeing a small business get this kind of attention, especially one that’s been around this long. They deserve some slack, some grace, and a whole lot of gratitude.

To the crew at LJS: you’re killin’ it. Keep doing your thing. I’ll stop in soon to support in person…when things calm down and I can get my chicken planks in peace.

And to the serial complainers out there?

If you don’t have anything nice to say…

Hush, Puppy.

Wave Before You Duck: A Jeep Rant

The Jeep wave.

Once a sacred rite of passage in Wrangler ownership, now fading faster than your first pair of off-road tires.

Enter… the duck.

That’s right. The duck.

It waddled in from Ontario, Canada during the COVID era. Allison Parliament, Jeep owner and good-vibes ambassador, left a rubber duck and a note on another Jeep to spread some cheer. It caught on faster than a soft-top in a thunderstorm, and now… BOOM!! Duck armies occupy dashboards nationwide.

And while I respect the spirit behind it, I’ve got a bone to pick.

I don’t duck.

Never have. Never will.

Why? Because I wave.

My first Jeep, circa 1989, Jeep Comanche, taught me the golden rule:

See a Jeep? You wave.

Doesn’t matter if you’re crawling over boulders or rolling through a grocery store parking lot. Jeepers wave. I waved so damn much, I still catch myself waving at Wranglers when I’m driving my non-Jeep ride.

Fast forward through six Jeeps and a fresh Gladiator, and what do I notice?

Crickets. Silence. NO WAVES BACK.

Has the culture shifted? Are these younger, newer drivers clueless?

Or, and hear me out, is this some twisted duck-ocracy where you only wave if your dash is drowning in rubber poultry?

I’ve seen it. Jeeps with the iconic wave decal on the mirror… not waving back.

Like, sir, do you not know what’s slapping you in the face every time you check your blind spot?

Let me be clear:

If you drive a Jeep, you wave.

You don’t pick and choose.

You don’t wait for a duck to bless your dashboard.

You fake a smile, you lift that hand, and you WAVE.

And if someone ducks you? Cool. Smile. Pass it along. Or don’t. But for the love of Jeep—

DON’T FORGET THE WAVE.