Saturday, October 18, 2025 – Day 431

Saturday, October 18, 2025

Good morning, blog readers.

As we grow up, we watch people and we learn from them. Kids are like clay—molded by what they see and experience. We pick up good habits and not-so-good ones, and all of it—along with a little luck—helps shape who we become.

A Bad Habit Learned Both my parents smoked, and at some point, I decided to sneak a cigarette from one of their packs. I must have been around 12 or 13. I still remember that first drag—the inhale, the exhale, and the little cloud I made. Then came the buzz: lightheaded, dizzy, and strangely fascinating. I wasn’t sure if I liked it, but it was new and rebellious.

My dad smoked Salems and my mom smoked Parliaments. I swiped one of the Salems, and that cool menthol taste hit me like a blast of medicine. I couldn’t believe my dad smoked something that awful. That should’ve been my cue to quit forever—but being young and dumb, I didn’t.

Once you’ve tried one, it’s easy to go back for another… and another. Eventually, I got caught, which led to the standard “smoking is bad for you” lecture. Blah, blah, blah.

By age 15 or 16, I was smoking Marlboros. My parents weren’t thrilled, but they didn’t fight it. High school even had a designated smoking area near the cafeteria—imagine that! With so many parents who smoked, it was just part of the norm. The legal age was 18, but enforcement was lax. I can even remember my mom sending me to the store to buy her smokes. All you had to say was, “They’re for my mom.”

Soon enough, smoking became something I enjoyed. I went overboard—two packs a day by my early twenties. And oddly enough, that excess is what saved me. I started to worry about what I was doing to my lungs, and that fear finally made me quit.

On February 28, 1982 (if I remember right), at midnight, I quit cold turkey—along with my brothers Tim and Nick. I chain-smoked as many cigarettes as I could before the clock struck twelve and never looked back. Well… except for a couple of late-night slip-ups over drinks, but that was the end of it…for me anyway.

A Good Habit Learned My grandparents owned a liquor store in North Chicago called Ratajacks, tucked right into a residential neighborhood. Customers came and went all day, and litter would sometimes blow into the neighbors’ yards. My grandparents made sure we went around and picked up trash—not just from our property, but from the surrounding houses, too.

It wasn’t a job I enjoyed, but the lesson stuck. It taught me what it means to be part of a neighborhood—to care for more than just your own space. Even now, I can’t walk past litter without picking it up. And yes, even with my rollator walker, I still stop and wrestle with a gum wrapper on the ground.

Full Circle The whole point of today’s post is that what we see and learn in life eventually defines who we are. We keep some lessons, we toss others—but over time, they shape our character.

I’ve always been a giver. That’s just who I am. And one of the hardest parts of ALS is not being able to do as much for others as I used to. But thankfully, Andy’s Army has stepped in to help me keep that spirit alive.

Last week, my brother-in-law Mark came over to help raise the Moravian Star that hangs from the oak tree in our backyard. It’s something I love putting up because it brings joy to everyone who sees it. Yesterday, I got this message from a neighbor:

“Hi Andy,
Just looking at the star and thinking about what a great guy you are to put it up again. My grandchildren haven’t seen it yet, but believe me, they’ll be so excited. You and your star have really made an impact. Thank you, Andy. 🙏”

That note started my morning today…and I had to pass it on. Thank you, Mark, for helping bring the star back after its six-month absence—and for helping me keep spreading a little light.

Have a great Saturday. Love you guys! ❤️

Today’s photos

Ann (Nikki and Zack’s friend) after a long exhausting day of supporting Andy’s Army. Thanks Ann!