June 21st, 2011

The son of a friend of mine recently had an accident. The shower door somehow shattered, shooting shards of broken glass at his naked body at very close range. He’s young and was very scared, but got comfortable when the ambulance arrived because one of the paramedics not only also worked at the little boy’s school, but was the father of one of his playmates too.

That is a small town story, an old-timey story. Most of us these days live in the suburbs and our schoolteachers do not volunteer to drive ambulances at night. Even if we try very hard to stay away from corporate chains and keep very dedicated to the communities that we build, everything around seems to get cleaner and less personal each day.

And so I want to tell you to go to the Golden Mushroom Pizzeria because it’s one little bit of small town charm in the kind of overwhelming suburban sprawl that is the Silicon Valley. I personally feel connected to it because my sister went to school with the owner’s son. You, who are unconnected, can love it because it’s old and dive-y and you can get pitchers of beer for cheap. The pizza is greasy and super delicious when the owner is there. It falls off a little when he’s not around to watch, but order another pitcher and you’ll get over it. This place is old-school, the kind of place Round Table is pretending to be, and maybe once was.

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