Throughout my career I've had some great mentors. One, a retired marine, exemplified integrity by treating everyone with care, dignity, and respect. He was one of many who set the bar high for the kind of person I wanted to become. I tell his story over and over. He promoted "self-care" before anyone coined the phrase. More than 20 years ago, he imparted a bit of wisdom before I left on a weeklong vacation. He noticed my stress and concern as I gave him the lowdown on my high-risk clients. Like a nervous parent, I handed him a list of phone numbers he could reach me at "just in case," which he promptly handed back with strict orders for me to go to the beach and enjoy my family, stressing "you've earned it," or something like that.
That memory was my inspiration as I planned a cathartic return to the "paradise" of my childhood this year. It was finally time to mark something off my bucket list. I would not check my work email, call the office or do anything work-related on my trip. As the date drew near, I encountered unexpected obstacles and faced tough decisions. I carefully assessed and prayed, then decided paradise would wait. I was bummed. I doubted my choice. I considered scrapping my vacation plans altogether, but a little voice told me to stick with my plan "you earned it. " I could take care of me. I should take care of me. So, I did.
After a chance conversation, I decided the first destination for my staycation would be Brewer, Missouri. Have you heard of it? Me neither. You won't find information about Brewer on your travel agent's website. It is a small town approximately 5 miles north of Perryville, Missouri.
Big Red and I headed to Salerno's Pizzeria (5029 N. U.S. 61).
Some online reconnaissance revealed Salerno's to be your typical small-town restaurant. The menu was filled with standards like pizza, wings, burgers and beer. If the food channel has taught me anything it is that places like Salerno's are often hidden gems and home to some of the best-kept secrets. I decided my mission would be to find out if the cheeseburger pizza, with its hamburger, pickles and bacon over a ketchup and mustard base, could pass muster.
I drove out on a beautiful sunny day and arrived at a large red building with a "Stag" beer sign serving as a beacon.
Now, the good part.
I met Pat at the bar as I waited for my pizza. She eats at Salerno's daily, recommended everything, and offered me the first bite of her fried fish. My mom raised me right, so I politely declined food from a stranger. Then something funny happened. My stomach grumbled as the scent of her perfectly fried golden fish wafted in my direction. I talked to Pat for about 10 minutes, learned her ancestors originally migrated from Ireland to New Orleans but they eventually followed love and established roots along the Mississippi River. Pat was no stranger, we were friends. I accepted her offer and sampled a bite of her fish. I am glad I came to my senses, because it was delicious and made me second guess my own order.
One look at my "small" pizza a few minutes later made me realize I would be having cheeseburger pizza for at least three more meals. It was closer to what most restaurants sell as medium. The fresh-made crust was my favorite part. The sauce and pickles gave it a solid cheeseburger flavor, but something seemed to be missing. I figured it out on the ride home — onion. I didn't think to add it, but that is the only change I will make next time. It officially passed muster as a pizza-burger hybrid.
The food was good but my favorite part? I discovered the owner puts his money where his heart is — the community. He was formally recognized by the Perry County Board of Developmental Disabilities for his commitment to provide training and employment to individuals with disabilities. I happened to arrive in time to witness an individual being trained with patience, care, dignity,and respect. Sound familiar? I didn't make it to the beach, but I found warmth and sunshine. Isn't it funny how an unexpected change of plans led me to find a cheeseburger pizza and kindness that feels a little closer to paradise? That's the kind of business I want to support, and hope you do, too.
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