They were using a molding machine pretty much the same as we had in our bakery for rolling out bread dough before panning it. Dangerous if you get your fingers caught in the rolling stainless wheels. They were flattening out the pizzas, getting them ready for the toppings and then into the oven. We could feel the pride of this dad for his boys as they expertly carried out the order.
I can’t remember that he ever said it to us straight up, but my dad was proud of his sons and daughters working in his bakery with him. Especially at this time of year, he asked a lot of us. I well remember working around the clock the day before one Christmas. Endless ovens of bread and buns and then all the special Christmas orders that took a lot of care and time and for which he didn’t charge enough. He too would be dog tired by the time New Year’s Day rolled around. But I loved that time and treasure now, the memories of working alongside my dad, standing at the wooden tables, scrubbing dishes at the sink or sweating at the oven doors. How I wish I might have lived more fully into those moments and cherished them.