Growing Up Around Water

As a kid growing up in California, I was lucky to be surrounded by rivers, lakes, and beaches within driving distance. Summer trips to the coast were a highlight, but honestly, I loved the local rivers just as much. It didn’t matter if I was swimming, fishing, or just skipping rocks—being near the water was where I felt happiest.

Those experiences stuck with me. They weren’t about fancy vacations or big events. They were about the laughter of friends, the cool relief of jumping into a river on a hot day, and the quiet moments of reflection when the water was still. That connection has followed me into adulthood, and now I find myself going back to the water whenever I need to reset.

Water as a Reset Button

Life as a general manager can be stressful. Long hours, tough decisions, and constant problem-solving come with the job. Add in being a dad, a brother, a friend, and a volunteer, and it can feel like the weight never lifts. But when I get to the water, it’s like hitting a reset button.

There’s no to-do list at the beach. The river doesn’t care about deadlines. The lake doesn’t judge you for being tired. Out there, it’s just you and the sound of waves or the flow of current. It’s grounding. It reminds me that life is bigger than my daily worries.

Sometimes, just a couple of hours by the water is all it takes to come back refreshed and ready to handle whatever’s waiting for me.

Adventure and Play

Of course, water isn’t just about quiet reflection. It’s also about fun. I’ve always loved swimming, boating, and playing water sports. There’s something freeing about jumping into a lake with friends or grabbing a kayak and exploring.

As a coach and someone who grew up loving sports, I think I naturally gravitate toward activities that get me moving. But the difference with water sports is that they combine play with peace. You’re active, but you’re also surrounded by nature. It’s the best of both worlds.

And now, as a dad, I love sharing those experiences with my son. Whether it’s a quick trip to the river or a day at the coast, watching him find joy in the water reminds me of my own childhood. It’s one of the best ways we bond.

Water as a Place of Reflection

Not every trip to the water is about play. Sometimes it’s about finding space to think. I’ve had moments of real clarity sitting on a riverbank, reflecting on my family, my career, or the next chapter of my life.

The steady movement of water has a way of putting things into perspective. It flows no matter what. It moves around obstacles, reshapes its path, and keeps going. In a way, it’s a mirror for life. We all face challenges, but like water, we find ways forward.

Some of my toughest seasons have been made easier by taking time near the water. It’s where I’ve gone to process loss, to pray, and to remind myself of what really matters.

Sharing the Experience

What I love most about rivers, lakes, and beaches is that they bring people together. Whether it’s a family picnic at the lake, a beach day with friends, or coaching kids on a team outing, water is a natural gathering place.

I’ve seen how it breaks down barriers. People laugh more. They talk more openly. They leave their stress behind, even if just for a few hours. For me, being able to share those moments with people I care about is priceless.

Why I Keep Going Back

If I had to sum it up, I’d say water is where I find balance. It gives me peace when I need rest, energy when I want to play, and clarity when I need answers. It connects me to my past, brings me joy in the present, and helps me prepare for the future.

The truth is, we all need places that recharge us—spots where we can breathe, reflect, and reset. For some people, it’s the mountains or the city. For me, it will always be the water.

Life doesn’t slow down on its own. You have to make space for it. For me, that space is found at the water’s edge. Whether I’m standing on a sandy beach, swimming in a clear lake, or walking along a riverbank, I feel grounded. I feel reconnected.

That’s why I’ll always keep going back. Because the water doesn’t just recharge me—it reminds me of who I am, what matters most, and why slowing down is sometimes the most important thing you can do.

The post Finding Peace by the Water: How Rivers, Lakes, and Beaches Recharge My Soul appeared first on Andrew Krienke.

A Name That Means Something

My full name is Andrew Gantner Krienke, and that middle name—Gantner—has always carried weight in my family. It’s not just a name we slap on paperwork. It represents courage, sacrifice, and a sense of duty that goes back generations.

My grandfather, Robert Gantner, served as a Navy seaman during World War II. But even more defining in our family history is his brother—my great uncle—Samuel Gantner. Samuel died at Pearl Harbor and was later recognized as a decorated war hero. He gave his life in service to this country before he ever had a chance to live it fully.

Samuel never got to start a family, but he became a symbol in ours. He’s someone we remember not just for how he died, but for how he lived—with bravery and heart. My son and I are now the only ones in the family who still carry Gantner as a middle name. That’s not something I take lightly.

Remembering the People Who Shaped Us

Growing up, I spent a lot of time listening to stories—stories about my parents, grandparents, and others in our family who came before me. My dad, Calvin Krienke Jr., was a teacher and coach in Lodi, well known by generations of students and athletes. He passed away in 2024, and his memorial was packed with people whose lives he had touched.

My mom, Cynthia, was a nurse who spent her career helping others through some of their toughest moments. She passed in early 2025, but her compassion and strength still echo in my life.

What I learned from both of them—and from my grandparents—is that family history is more than old photos or war records. It’s values. It’s work ethic. It’s showing up. That’s how they lived, and I try to honor them by living that way too.

More Than Just Bloodlines

You don’t have to come from a famous family to have a powerful legacy. What matters is the example that gets passed down. For us, that legacy looks like service, hard work, humility, and loyalty.

I’ve tried to carry that legacy in my own way—through teaching, coaching, and now managing a team in the restaurant industry. I’ve also passed it down to my own son. Giving him the Gantner middle name wasn’t just a tradition. It was a reminder that he comes from people who gave their best, even when no one was watching.

Family names can get lost in time, but I’m doing my best to make sure ours doesn’t. A few years back, I even read that the school district once considered naming a school after Samuel Gantner. I’m not sure what happened with that, but I still think it’s an idea worth revisiting. Our town—and our country—could use more reminders of the people who made quiet, powerful sacrifices.

Why It Still Matters Today

Some people might wonder why any of this matters. Why dig into old family stories? Why hold on to names from the past?

Because history grounds us. It reminds us that we’re not the center of the universe, but part of something larger. In a world that often feels divided or uncertain, remembering the strength, honor, and selflessness of the people before us gives us direction.

When I’m tired, when work is stressful, when life feels like too much—I think about my great uncle on a ship at Pearl Harbor. I think about my grandfather flying for the Army Air Corps. I think about my mom putting in long hours at the hospital and my dad coaching teenagers after full school days. That’s the standard. That’s the bar I try to live up to.

Keeping Their Stories Alive

If we don’t tell these stories, they fade. That’s why I share them with my son, with the kids I’ve coached, and sometimes even with my staff. Not to brag or preach, but to remind us all that resilience and character are built over time—and passed down on purpose.

There’s a saying I like: “You plant trees whose shade you’ll never sit under.” That’s what Samuel Gantner did. That’s what so many of our family members did. And now it’s on me—and my son—to keep planting.

Honoring the Gantner legacy isn’t about clinging to the past. It’s about living in a way that reflects the strength of where we came from. It’s about stepping up when it matters, serving others before yourself, and never forgetting the shoulders you stand on.

So yes, family history still matters. It keeps us humble. It keeps us rooted. And if we’re lucky, it keeps us headed in the right direction.

Let’s make sure we remember—and then let’s make sure we live it out.

The post Honoring the Gantner Legacy: Why Family History Still Matters Today appeared first on Andrew Krienke.

There are a lot of flashy moments in basketball—buzzer-beaters, breakaway dunks, and packed gyms on rivalry nights—but it’s the quiet lessons that have meant the most. Leadership. Loyalty. Discipline. Sacrifice. These are the values the game instilled in me, and I carry them wherever I go.

Leadership Isn’t About Being the Loudest Voice

When I was younger, I thought being a leader meant giving speeches or being the best player on the team. But I quickly realized that leadership isn’t about talking—it’s about doing. It’s about how you carry yourself, how you respond to failure, and how you treat the people around you.

As a player, I wasn’t always the star, but I learned how to lead by example. Show up early. Stay after practice. Pick your teammate up after a tough play. Keep your head up when the scoreboard’s against you. These actions may not show up in the box score, but they’re what real leadership looks like.

Later, as a coach at Lodi High School and with youth programs around town, I passed that lesson on to the next generation. I’ve told every team I’ve coached: you don’t need a title to lead. You just need to do the right thing when no one’s watching.

Loyalty Means Showing Up—Even When It’s Hard

One of the biggest lessons basketball taught me is that loyalty isn’t about convenience—it’s about commitment. When you’re on a team, you show up for each other. Not just when it’s easy or fun, but especially when it’s tough.

I remember playing through injuries, slumps, and losses. There were nights when the gym was quiet, the fans were few, and the scoreboard wasn’t in our favor. But we still showed up. We practiced hard. We leaned on each other. That loyalty—between teammates, coaches, and the school community—built something stronger than wins. It built trust.

In life, I try to model that same loyalty in my relationships, my work, and my community. Whether I’m leading a team at the restaurant or mentoring a young player, I know the value of sticking with people and being dependable. Loyalty doesn’t always get recognition, but it always matters.

The Importance of Team Over Self

Basketball is the ultimate team sport. You can’t win alone. You need the rebounders, the defenders, the sixth man off the bench. Everyone has a role, and success comes when you embrace it—not when you chase personal glory.

As a coach, I loved watching players grow into that mindset. Maybe they didn’t score 20 points a night, but they locked down the other team’s top scorer. Maybe they weren’t starters, but they brought energy off the bench that changed the game. Every role matters, and learning to celebrate others is a lesson I wish more people learned early on.

It’s the same in real life. Whether you’re at work, at home, or in your community, it’s not about standing out—it’s about lifting others up. The best leaders I’ve seen are the ones who serve their teams, not the ones who expect to be served.

Coaching Taught Me Even More Than Playing

If playing basketball shaped me, coaching sharpened me. When you’re a coach, the focus shifts. It’s no longer about your performance—it’s about helping others reach their potential. That responsibility changed how I thought about leadership.

Coaching forced me to listen better, to be more patient, and to connect with each player as a person, not just an athlete. I learned that every kid brings something unique to the team—not just talent, but personality, background, and spirit. My job wasn’t to mold them into copies of me—it was to help them become the best version of themselves.

And you know what? They taught me too. They reminded me to stay humble, to laugh through the stress, and to never underestimate the power of belief—both giving it and receiving it.

Carrying These Lessons Forward

Now, whether I’m running a restaurant, helping my son with his homework, or volunteering at church, I’m constantly applying the lessons basketball taught me. Leadership through action. Loyalty through consistency. Teamwork over ego.

I think that’s why I’ve always been drawn to coaching and mentoring. It’s not about reliving the glory days. It’s about giving back to a game that gave me so much. I want to help young people see that the skills they learn in practice and in the locker room can carry them through life.

Because at the end of the day, basketball isn’t just about points and playoffs—it’s about building people. It’s about creating leaders, forging lifelong bonds, and teaching us to keep showing up, no matter what.

I’m proud of the player I was, but I’m even more proud of the coach, mentor, and leader I’ve become because of the game. Basketball shaped my character. It challenged me. It gave me a place to grow. And I’ll always be grateful for every lesson it taught me—from the court to the classroom to everyday life.

If you’re lucky enough to be part of a team—whether as a player, coach, parent, or fan—embrace it. The lessons you learn there will follow you long after the final buzzer sounds.

The post Lessons from the Court: What Basketball Taught Me About Leadership and Loyalty appeared first on Andrew Krienke.

It would be coaching youth sports.

I’ve had the privilege of coaching youth basketball through Lodi Parks & Recreation, high school basketball at Lodi High, and football with the Liberty Ranch Jr. Hawks. No matter where life has taken me, I keep coming back to the court or the field. And after all these years, I can honestly say that coaching young athletes has been one of the most fulfilling and impactful things I’ve ever done.

More Than Just a Game

To some people, youth sports are just that—sports. Wins and losses. Schedules and scores. But anyone who’s coached knows it’s about so much more than that.

When you coach kids, especially at the youth level, you’re not just teaching them how to dribble or tackle. You’re helping them build confidence. You’re showing them how to deal with failure. You’re giving them a space to belong, to be part of something bigger than themselves. And sometimes, you’re one of the only adults in their life who’s showing up consistently for them.

That kind of responsibility humbles you. It forces you to be more than a coach—it makes you a mentor, a listener, a role model. Those kids remember the way you treat them. They watch how you respond to stress. They notice if you show up on time, if you hold them accountable, if you believe in them even when they’re struggling.

And when they start believing in themselves because of it? That’s everything.

The Lessons Go Both Ways

It’s easy to think of coaching as a one-way street: the adult teaches, the kids learn. But truthfully, I’ve learned just as much—if not more—from the athletes I’ve coached.

I’ve learned patience. I’ve learned how to break down complex ideas into simple, repeatable steps. I’ve learned how to meet people where they are—how to push one kid to greatness while protecting another from burnout. I’ve learned the value of encouragement, the strength in vulnerability, and the magic that happens when a team starts trusting each other.

Some of my favorite memories aren’t even about winning games. They’re the practices where a kid finally “gets it.” The moments after a hard-fought loss when the team still holds their heads high. The parents who come up and say, “Thank you—my kid really needed this.”

Building Character, Not Just Athletes

One of the things I take most seriously as a coach is helping shape character. Sports are one of the last places where kids can learn real-life lessons in a raw, hands-on environment. They learn about discipline. They learn how to work with others. They learn that talent can only get you so far—and that grit, heart, and effort go a long way.

And when those kids start taking those lessons off the court and into their lives? That’s the win that really counts. I’ve seen former players grow into hardworking students, respectful teammates, and even leaders in their own right. I’ve had kids I coached years ago come back and tell me that something I said stuck with them—that I helped them through a tough time without even knowing it.

That kind of impact doesn’t fade. It lasts.

A Legacy Worth Leaving

I come from a family of teachers, coaches, and veterans—people who gave their lives to service, to shaping others. My father was a beloved coach and educator in our community. His example is a big part of why I coach. I saw what it meant to be the kind of adult who shows up for young people. And now, I try to carry that forward.

Coaching is a way I can give back, but it’s also how I keep our family’s legacy alive. It’s how I stay grounded, how I stay connected to my community. Even as my full-time work moved into hospitality and management, I never felt like I left the world of teaching behind—because coaching lets me keep teaching, just in a different uniform.I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I’m proud of. I’ve worked hard to build a career, to support my family, and to grow into the kind of man I want my son to look up to. But coaching youth sports will always hold a special place in my heart. It’s where I’ve felt most needed. It’s where I’ve felt the most connected to a purpose bigger than myself.

It’s not glamorous. There’s no award or big paycheck. Sometimes it’s thankless. Sometimes it’s exhausting. But every time I see a kid find confidence, make a friend, or learn how to bounce back from failure—that’s the real reward.

And that’s why, to this day, coaching still feels like my greatest accomplishment.

The post Why Coaching Youth Sports Still Feels Like My Greatest Accomplishment appeared first on Andrew Krienke.

I come from a long line of people who served—teachers, nurses, military veterans, public servants. Each of them left behind more than just memories. They left examples. My job now is to honor them, not by trying to be perfect, but by living in a way that reflects their influence. Here’s what preserving that family legacy looks like in my day-to-day life.

The Spirit of Service

My dad, Calvin, was a well-known teacher and coach in our hometown of Lodi. He dedicated his life to helping kids—on the court, in the classroom, and in the community. He passed away not long ago, and the number of people who came to his celebration of life was overwhelming. That told me everything I needed to know: he mattered.

He didn’t make headlines, but he changed lives. He showed up every day, even when it was hard. That’s a lesson I carry with me. Whether I’m managing a busy restaurant or coaching a youth basketball game, I try to lead the same way he did—by being consistent, fair, and fully present. That’s how you honor someone like my dad. Not just by telling stories about him, but by living the story forward

Quiet Heroes

My mom, Cynthia, was a nurse who cared deeply for others. She worked at the Lodi Outpatient Center and St. Joseph’s Hospital (now Dignity Health). She didn’t talk much about her work, but you could feel her heart in everything she did. She passed away recently too, and with her went a kind of gentle strength that’s hard to explain unless you knew her.

She taught me that caring for others isn’t always loud or flashy—it’s in the quiet moments: checking in on someone, lending a hand without being asked, showing patience when others can’t. Those are the kinds of lessons that stay with you. I try to bring that spirit into my workplace, my family, and my friendships. It’s easy to get caught up in the rush of life, but I remember my mom when I slow down and focus on the people around me.

A Family of Sacrifice

I also come from a family with deep military roots. My grandfather, Calvin Sr., served as a pilot in the Army Air Corps during World War II. My other grandfather, Robert Gantner, served in the Navy. And Robert’s brother—my great-uncle Samuel—gave his life during the attack on Pearl Harbor and was honored posthumously as a hero.

Their stories aren’t just history to me—they’re reminders of the responsibility that comes with carrying their name. My son and I are the last two people in our family to carry the Gantner name as our middle name. That means something. It’s not about ego or tradition—it’s about remembering. Remembering the price they paid, the courage they showed, and the belief they had in something bigger than themselves.

Living the Legacy Daily

Preserving legacy doesn’t have to mean starting a foundation or building a statue. For me, it’s in the little choices. It’s how I parent my son—teaching him to be respectful, curious, and kind. It’s how I coach, making sure every kid feels seen and valued, whether they score 20 points or ride the bench. It’s how I manage my team—by being the kind of leader who listens and lifts people up.

It’s also about community. I try to stay involved in my hometown and nearby areas, volunteering at church and supporting youth sports. These aren’t big, flashy things, but they matter. Because that’s what legacy really is: it’s the ripple effect of everyday actions.

Keeping the Name Alive

I’ve always been proud of my family name, but as I get older, I feel more responsibility to carry it well. It’s not just about being a “Krienke” or a “Gantner”—it’s about what those names represent. Hard work. Integrity. Service. Family.

There was talk once about naming a school after my great-uncle Samuel Gantner. I saw something about it in a news article years ago, but I’m not sure what came of it. Still, whether his name ends up on a building or not, I know his spirit lives on—through the choices we make, the stories we tell, and the lives we touch.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. I make mistakes, I fall short, and I’m still learning every day. But I know this much: legacy isn’t something we inherit—it’s something we live out. It’s not a one-time thing. It’s how we treat others, how we rise after setbacks, and how we carry the values of those who came before us.

So every time I step into my role as a father, a coach, a manager, or a neighbor—I try to keep the spirit alive. Not with big speeches or bold moves, but through simple, steady action. That’s how we honor the past—and build something meaningful for the future.

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