“They said my name and flipped it open while I was waiting there. Whoa! The confetti drops. Holding the card that AGT host Terry Cruz used to declare the winner, Richard Goodall exclaimed, “Magic.”
It has taken a while to hear his name. In the spring, Goodall began the audition process. Everything started when a video of him singing to West Vigo pupils was uploaded on Tik Tok. Among those who witnessed it was AGT judge Howie Mandell.
Howie Mandell stated from the AGT red carpet, “When I saw him, when he stepped on our stage, you felt the love that not only I had for him, but the hope he would win.” “You just knew that everyone at home would feel the same strong urge to cast a ballot.”
And voters did. He ranked #1 according to viewer votes. That same engaging charisma won over other judges as well.
“In the competition, he made such progress. America grew to love him. the actual individual. the actual dream. After today, his life will change,” AGT Judge Sophia Vigara remarked.
“I get chills just thinking about him singing on that stage,” the person said. It truly is lovely. He has a lovely voice. He’s really delicious, Heidi Klum, an AGT judge, continued.
Goodall expressed gratitude to WTWO on the red carpet for sharing his trip.
“You guys have supported me the entire way,” “You guys have supported me throughout the entire process,” grinned Goodall.
Additionally, he commended the Wabash Valley residents for their unwavering support.
“Wabash Valley, Terre Haute, Indiana, is appreciated. In an emotional moment, Goodall bowed his head and murmured, “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Goodall mentioned that one of her “top shelf” bucket list items was to sing with the band “Journey.”
Regarding his future goals, he mentioned going back to work as a school janitor for a short spell. In addition, he mentioned wanting to purchase a home with his wife Angie. Despite having strong ties to Terre Haute, he admitted that he could consider purchasing a home in Florida as he dislikes the harsh Indiana winters.
The Taste of Love: A Father’s Tribute
The kitchen, once a haven of warmth and laughter, now echoed with the clatter of pots and pans. John, a man more accustomed to spreadsheets than soufflés, stood amidst the chaos, his brow furrowed in concentration. Pancake batter, a lumpy, greenish-grey concoction, clung stubbornly to the sides of the bowl. His wife, Sarah, would have laughed, her eyes twinkling.
He missed her laughter. He missed her easy grace in the kitchen, the way she hummed along to the radio while whipping up culinary magic. He missed the way she’d kiss his cheek and say, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ve got this.” Now, he was adrift in a sea of burnt toast and forgotten recipes, his kitchen a battlefield rather than a haven.
His daughter, Lily, a bright-eyed girl of eight, watched him with a mixture of amusement and concern. “Dad,” she’d say, her voice gentle, “It’s okay if it’s not perfect.” But her words, meant to comfort, only served to deepen his sense of inadequacy. He longed to recreate the magic of Sarah’s cooking, to fill the void left by her absence with the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals.
One morning, determined to surprise Lily, John decided to try his hand at heart-shaped pancakes. He watched countless online tutorials, meticulously measuring ingredients, and even invested in a heart-shaped pan. The batter, this time, was a pale golden color, smooth and even. He poured it carefully into the pan, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and trepidation.
Lily, ever the curious observer, watched him with wide eyes. “What are you making, Daddy?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement.
“Something special,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse.
As the pancakes cooked, a wave of memories washed over him. He remembered Sarah’s laughter, her playful banter with Lily, the warmth that radiated from their kitchen. He remembered the way Lily would eagerly devour Sarah’s pancakes, her face smeared with syrup.
Finally, he flipped the pancakes, his breath catching in his throat. They were golden brown and perfectly heart-shaped. He carefully transferred them to plates, adding a generous dollop of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup.
Lily’s eyes widened as she saw the pancakes. “Wow, Daddy!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. “They look just like Mommy used to make!”
John’s heart swelled. He watched as Lily took a bite, her eyes closing in delight. “It tastes like the ones Mom made!” she declared, her voice filled with happiness.
Tears welled up in John’s eyes. He knew it wasn’t perfect, that the edges were a little burnt and the syrup a bit messy. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. He had made Lily smile. He had brought a little bit of Sarah back into their lives, one delicious pancake at a time.
From that day on, John continued to cook, his kitchen slowly transforming from a battlefield into a sanctuary. He learned new recipes, experimented with flavors, and even found himself enjoying the process. He knew he would never fully replace Sarah, but he could learn to cook with love, with memory, and with the hope of creating new memories with his daughter. And that, he realized, was a gift in itself.
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