Every once in a while, in between a recipe-eviscerated copy of Better Homes and Gardens, I stumble upon a Pittsburgh Magazine in a pediatrician’s waiting room. Sometimes, I get super lucky and find the coveted “40 under 40″ edition. An issue devoted to 40 (usually super good-looking and well-dressed) Pittsburghers under the age of 40 who are chosen based on some secret criteria with the following goal: “Pittsburgh Magazine and PUMP sponsor the 40 Under 40 program with the goal of recognizing 40 people under the age of 40 who are committed to shaping our region and making it a better place for everyone.”
Today, my friends, was the lucky day: waiting for the doctor to check for a ruptured ear drum (it was not) the 2010 “40 under 40″ edition was mine…
I read each winner’s profile (while referring back to the subject’s picture several times) with various reactions (e.g. jealousy and/or mockery), pre-judgments, assessments, and feelings. The following quotes were taken directly from the voice in my head during some of the “40 under 40″ perusal:
- “I was WAITRESSING when I was 23!”
- “That guy looks like the biggest asshole that ever lived (TM).”
- “Big whoop.”
- “Really bad tie…”
- “I would LOVE to do that…”
- “I would HATE to do that…”
- “Sure, she’s making medical breakthroughs, but I bet she can’t make a quiche.”
What I was especially aware of this year, is that these 40 people were chosen, predominately for their cool professions and the wonderful things that they do in those professions. And although many of the winners are probably parents, none were chosen specifically because of the job they are doing as parents. Here’s where I come in…I’m under 40, I can (statistically) be “one out of forty” people, “I am committed to shaping our region and making it a better place for everyone” by raising awesome kids and staying here. I bet some of you are doing the same…this is for all of us.
Thank you Photoshop for allowing me to stroke my own ego and become a “chosen one,” if only through the magic of the slice tool. Now that I am a 40 under 40, I have to get to work on my next goal: getting my name onto the Stanley Cup.
In just seven short years, Allison Cubbage Sciullo has transformed the way she does business: namely, with the bathroom door open. “Being a mother, a wife, working full-time at a local university, taking care of a home, hiding candy, cleaning up pee from around the toilet every day, playing UNO, cooking meals, “looking for arrowheads” in the gravel driveway on the walk back from the bus stop, field-dressing wild game, and doing laundry…I’ve learned to put ‘me’ on the backburner.” Sciullo, who still needs to catch up reading her magazines from March 2010, HAS managed to transform the world in a small and powerful way: she created, nurtures, and continues to develop three good human beings to make our world—and our future world—a little better, a little more tolerable, and a little more fun. Three kids who are learning to change lives in both small and massive ways. She also advocates for parents to raise their children in a similar manner and shares her techniques with others. “Oh, I also know a SHIT-TON about stain removal sticks,” Sciullo—a novice teepee enthusiast—added. In her spare time, this local mom enjoys creek-walking, ice skating, “searching for groundhog bones” in the woods, cake decorating, and reading. She believes that her greatest contribution to the Pittsburgh region has been raising her three conscientious and caring boys who will develop into wonderful men capable of doing nice things for others, taking pride in where they come from, contributing to charities, feeling empathy, being open-minded, and helping to build a better, more rational community of thinkers. But mainly, Sciullo wants *her children* to create something that will continue to change the world, a legacy, she added, as she was wiping some sort of dried, crusty substance off of her polar fleece jacket with a plastic fork: “More awesomely cool and hilarious kids. I’ll even babysit them while I’m catching up on my Harper’s.”
*Editor’s note: During Mrs. Sciullo’s lunch interview, she began to cut up the writer’s spaghetti and pick out “all the green stuff” from his sauce. Her closing words to him contained praise for being “such a good eater!”