The Story of the GIS Pretzel

At the start of every school year, the big question is always, What’s the story of the pretzel? 

Okay, so here is the story of the Pretzel.

I’ve always wanted to display something big on the school’s roof during the Holidays, something with blinking lights that screams ‘Look at me!’  So I started posing the question to teachers and staff:  ‘If you could put a giant symbol on top of the school’s roof, what would it be?’  I believe it was Frau Ocko (former 5th grade teacher) who responded the fastest.  She’s the one who suggested a pretzel.  I’m not saying it’s her fault, I’m just saying she’s the one who got me thinking about it.  So for the next five years or so, right around December, I’d always be thinking about this Pretzel.  But the problem was I didn’t think I could build it.  I’m okay at building some stuff, but a Pretzel??  No way.  Nobody would want to see that.  So I’d search around and test the waters, trying to see if I could find a parent or a teacher, some member of the community naive enough to embark on such a risky endeavor.  Unsurprisingly, I got no takers.  Much of life to me is about acquiring believers, but unfortunately, when it came to the Pretzel, I was alone on an island.

Enter Craig Lewis.

Craig was in his 2nd year at GIS.  He was originally hired to help with our IT needs and to act as a floating substitute teacher.  If you never met him, you missed out. Great guy.  One fall day, when I was in need of getting some help with facilities, I thought of a conversation I had had with Craig the previous year.  He told me about how he had used to build haunted houses in Las Vegas.  Seriously?  It all sounded very professional and very impressive, and the whole time he’s talking, all I’m really thinking is, ‘Hey, I think I just found the Pretzel Maker!’

Okay, so maybe a day or so after Craig joined Facilities, there was a conversation on the roof that went something like this:

Me:  Don’t you think we should put a big pretzel up here for the Holidays?

Craig: A pretzel?

Me:  Yeah, like a big giant pretzel that has blinking lights and everybody can see from the road.  Don’t you think that’d be great?

Craig: I’d have to think about it.

Me: C’mon, what’s to think about??  You can build a pretzel, I know you can.  You used to build haunted houses in Las Vegas!  This has got to be way easier than that!

Craig: But I’ve never built a pretzel.

So a couple of days later we went to Home Depot to brainstorm.  Craig had some ideas on how to build it, but he was still a bit skeptical.

Craig: I don’t know, Hunter.  If this doesn’t work, this could be really embarrassing.  I mean, does it have to be a pretzel?

Me: Will you stop questioning yourself?  I believe in you, Craig.

Cue the montage music…

For the next six weeks, Craig would sneak away to the Brigadoon property, where he would saw, sculpt, and brood over a ten foot pretzel.  You could tell it was consuming him, that it affected his dreams, his sleep, his attitude.  I’d try to joke with him, you know, to put him at ease, but by this point it was clear he was on a mission.

People were starting to wonder if something was wrong with Craig. I knew the truth, but I wanted to keep the whole thing a secret so I would just say he’s got a lot on his plate.

Around Week 4, I sensed a change in Craig’s demeanor, in how he viewed the whole project.

Craig: This pretzel is going to be amazing!  Nobody is gonna badmouth this pretzel, not MY PRETZEL!!!

It was at that moment that I realized I was in the presence of a master craftsman, someone who with each step, from that moment forward, would methodically execute in hopes of reaching a certain kind of pretzel perfection. I’d try to help but really, at this point, I was only getting in the way.  I’d make a suggestion and he’d just roll his eyes as if to say he had already thought of what I had said and had discarded it weeks earlier.  There was no hatred behind this, just one basic truth: 

The Pretzel is perfect. 

So now, as you look and appreciate the Pretzel in all of its twisted glory, you might still be asking: why is it down by the main entrance and not up on the roof?  The answer is simple:  We couldn’t get it through the door.