🍕 Why I Do What I Do — A Letter from Jake

Thank You for Being Here

Thank you so much for taking the time to share your attention on this page.

A lot of people don’t know the story of how I got into pizza—or why I do what I do.

When I was young—really young—17, to be exact, I became a father. As my daughter Mikhaeyla grew, and it became more and more just her and me, the stress of being able to provide escalated. I worked several jobs to make ends meet. One day, an older gentleman (who, thinking back, was probably no older than I am now—maybe 36) said to me:

“You should get a job at a pizza place. They usually let you have a pizza every day, and you can always feed your daughter.”

And he was right.
If she got tired of pizza, I’d make her a salad. Or a sandwich. Or lemon pepper chicken.
Pizza became my way of taking care of her.

So for most of Mikhaeyla’s youth, I worked at pizza places—so I could always feed her.
Fast forward to today: it’s tough to find a job that aligns with my skill set and also accommodates my autism.

I do have A Snowball’s Chance, my snow cone stand, but that mostly supports the operation of The Oak on Main, so I have a place for my friends and community here. I also have my autistic consulting business, but I put most of that money right back into it—helping those who can’t afford my hourly rates. I can’t turn away an Autie who needs help. I just can’t.

When my friends at Amici went brick-and-mortar, they graciously lent me their food trailer to help me get off the ground. It wasn’t easy. I had to:

• Fix the AC

• Rebuild the water system

• Rewire the incorrect electrical

• Replace the on-demand heater that exploded during the freeze

• Upgrade the fire suppression system

• Correct even more electrical issues during permitting

But I did it all—and I kept going.

Just when I thought we were finally moving forward, the oven broke right before the 4th of July.
We’d just grown enough to need more staff—and I had just hired them. I refused to cut anyone’s hours or pay, so I chose to purchase another used oven.

Then, just two weeks later, I got the news: I need to return the borrowed trailer.

We had just reached our first month of being profitable beyond the basic operating costs. And now, I’m at a crossroads.
Truthfully, I’m at a loss for what to do next.

But here’s what I know: there is no quit in me.

If my community wants me to continue—if you all show up like you always have—then there’s nothing that can stop me once I put my mind to it.

💭 Here Are My Options:

1. Purchase another food trailer and continue operating as I have been.

2. Purchase a trailer short-term, then develop the house on my property into a cozy brick-and-mortar with pizza, salads, sandwiches, and a full bar.

But the fact remains:
I can’t do any of this without your help.

If you're in a position to donate, I will be eternally grateful.
If you're not, even a simple word of encouragement can carry me further than you can imagine.
And if you have ideas—or if you're a business that wants to sponsor or partner—please reach out. I bet we can find a way to support each other.

Thank you for your love, your support, and for giving me the chance to provide for myself and for my daughter through something I love.

With deep gratitude,
— Jake