I do not believe the events of our lives are random and meaningless. I believe that every day we are presented with lessons, and if we’ll just pay attention, we are made greater by them.
Our home was purchased from my husband Kelly’s mother, who had it built in 1984 on land deeded to her by her late father. It lies between the home where Kelly’s grandparents used to live and the lot where he grew up, in a mobile home which no longer stands. There is family history here.
When we moved here in 1989 our back yard looked out on a large pasture where Kelly remembers tending cows and shooting doves as he grew up. This bucolic environment was part of the reason owning our own home was such a joy. We were both “rural” kids, and after living in apartments for several years, the “wide open spaces” were just what we craved.
A few years later, Kelly’s grandfather sold the large tract of land behind us to a developer, who planned to build houses on the acreage. A few years after that, the developer resold the property to a man who was known for setting up low-end trailer parks. To make a long story short, we now have about 75 mobile homes, in various states of disrepair, crammed together behind us. There is no manager’s office, no homeowner’s association, no rhyme or reason to what goes on in this neighborhood.
Most, but not all, of the residents of this community are Hispanic. The sounds of Latin music and Reggaeton howl from passing cars at all hours of the day and night. Conversations in English are a rarity. Loud motorcycles, squealing car tires and noisy go-carts are constantly drowning out the sound of our television. There is illicit gang activity which brings the Sheriff’s Department around frequently. There have been robberies and even one confirmed murder in the neighborhood over the last few years.
For Kelly, understandably, all of this is alien and threatening. Paranoid by nature anyway, he prepares for an “inevitable” home invasion by cleaning his guns, sharpening his knives and keeping the pit bull riled up. And while I recognize the possibility of such an event, I try to keep a positive outlook where people are concerned and look for the good in everyone. That’s why the events of this week have been such an affirmation for me, and such a needed reassurance for Kelly.
While watching television a few nights ago, I heard a small motorbike break down in front of the house. There was the distinctive sound of a chain leaving the sprocket and metal parts rolling down the driveway in the darkness. Other than being immediately thankful for the silence, I gave it no thought.
As I watered my flowerbeds the next morning I spotted something foreign in the grass, and, upon closer inspection, I realized it must be one of the missing motorbike parts. I pointed it out to Kelly and left it on my patio table outside.
Later that day, a young man knocked on our front door. He was the owner of the now defunct motorbike and he was wondering if it was okay to look around our front yard for any missing parts. After showing him the pieces I’d already found, Kelly gave permission, and even offered to help him search.
As they walked up and down the shoulder of the road, the young man opened up and shared information about himself. His name was Israel. He was only 25 years old, but had a birthday coming up the next day. He was married and had two children, lived in a crowded mobile home with several friends and family members, and did tattoo work to supplement his income as a masonry worker. His father had taught him to be respectful of his elders and to work hard at whatever job he had.
His thoughts about humankind were mature for one so young, and he seemed very balanced about his place in the world. He wanted to keep his kids safe and didn’t want the chaos of the neighborhood to affect them. His wish was to one day be able to move to a better place where he, his wife and children could have their own home. Living with several other adults and their kids was more than he could tolerate sometimes, which was why he had bought the little motorbike in the first place. It was something to escape on, if only for a little while.
Israel explained to Kelly that he came to the door out of respect, understanding that we had been in the neighborhood longer than anyone else, and didn’t want to upset us by foraging around in our yard without explanation.
Kelly, in turn, shared stories about growing up here and how the nearby woods and swamps had been places where he camped, hunted and fished. He told about family gatherings and how the neighborhood had once been a very different place for kids to play. The young man listened to these stories with interest and respect, interjecting his own stories about hunting and fishing.
At some point, the conversation turned to native Florida animal species, such as alligators and rattlesnakes. Israel began to talk about rattlesnakes and how their rattles accumulate with age. Much to his amazement, Kelly then went inside and brought out a snakeskin he’d preserved many years ago, unrolling it to display 16 rattles and a button. The young man expressed his thoughts about how unique it would be to have such rattles gold-plated and wear them on a neck chain, since he had never seen this done before.
By the time they finished their lengthy conversation, Kelly had presented Israel with another snakeskin, smaller and incomplete, but with five rattles still attached. Take it as a gift, he told the young man.
Israel’s gratitude and surprise were immediately evident. Thanking Kelly over and over again, he offered to work in our yard or do some free tattoo work as repayment for the snakeskin. He promised to help keep an eye on our property for us whenever we’re not home, and gave Kelly an invitation to visit in his humble home.
When he shook hands and walked away, Kelly shared the whole story with me. There was respect and admiration in his voice as he talked about his conversation with Israel. Although they came from different generations and different nationalities, he felt a kinship with this young man.
I certainly don’t love the changes in our neighborhood--no one could. But sometimes an encounter like this one can make a place seem less alien to us, less threatening. It can make us see how we as people are alike instead of how we are different.
And that’s a good lesson.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Easter
When I was a kid, my two favorite holidays were Christmas and Easter. The candy at Halloween and Valentine’s Day was nice enough, don’t get me wrong, but at Christmas you got all those PRESENTS! It was the high point of my whole year.
Close behind Christmas was Easter. Now the obvious appeal of Easter to a kid is the Easter basket, crammed full of sweeties and tied up with colorful ribbon. Mine sometimes included a new plush toy--bunny, chick, etc.
One year I got a big old stuffed plush duck, yellow with a bright orange beak. The reason I can still remember that toy so vividly is because of the tragic way I lost it. One day, in a sugar-induced frenzy of some sort, I was swinging that toy ‘round and ‘round by its flexible beak. (Probably replicating a scene from some Tom and Jerry cartoon I’d seen recently.) Suddenly, in mid-swing, the orange beak tore away from the plush bird and the beakless carcass flew in a graceful arc, up, up, up…and landed with a splat in my grandfather’s tobacco spittoon. I never played with that duck again.
There was also an incident with my father accidentally stepping on my real-live Easter chick from the local feed store, but I still can’t talk about that.
The other great thing about Easter was always the new dress and accessories I got to wear to church. Whether it was “store-bought” or homemade, my Easter dresses were SPECTACULAR. Lace, ribbons, crinolines and all, I had some outfits that Joan Rivers and her homely daughter would have been proud to see on the Red Carpet at any awards show. And I always got new shoes and ruffled socks, a purse, and most years, a hat, to complete my ensemble. I was STYLIN’, y’all.
When I became a mommy, Easter became a time to dress my own daughter in seasonal finery and load up her basket with sweets and toys, and I relished every moment. Coloring eggs, decorating the house, planting spring flowers, preparing the Easter meal--I enjoyed it all.
When my daughter was about 13 or 14 years old I figured she might think Easter baskets were too “babyish” for someone who listened to Nirvana and wore black all the time. Broaching the subject of how old-is-too-old with her, I was surprised at her wide-eyed response.
“Mom!” she responded quickly, “I want an Easter basket until I DIE!!!”
This year, in addition to the usual joys of the season, I have some “extras” to make my Easter special. I will still plant something colorful. I will still plan and prepare a delicious meal for my family. I will also be performing our last matinee of “Steel Magnolias” on Sunday afternoon, and my now-28-year-old daughter will be in the audience. And this year, she is expecting my first grandchild! How joyous is that?
So to all my friends, I hope you have a joyous and blessed Easter (or Passover) season and a spring filled with rebirth and promise. If you can, come out to see my show sometime this weekend. It’s good, no kidding. Bake the ham, hide the eggs, celebrate spring, worship in your own way, but be happy.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go stuff an Easter basket.
One year I got a big old stuffed plush duck, yellow with a bright orange beak. The reason I can still remember that toy so vividly is because of the tragic way I lost it. One day, in a sugar-induced frenzy of some sort, I was swinging that toy ‘round and ‘round by its flexible beak. (Probably replicating a scene from some Tom and Jerry cartoon I’d seen recently.) Suddenly, in mid-swing, the orange beak tore away from the plush bird and the beakless carcass flew in a graceful arc, up, up, up…and landed with a splat in my grandfather’s tobacco spittoon. I never played with that duck again.
There was also an incident with my father accidentally stepping on my real-live Easter chick from the local feed store, but I still can’t talk about that.
The other great thing about Easter was always the new dress and accessories I got to wear to church. Whether it was “store-bought” or homemade, my Easter dresses were SPECTACULAR. Lace, ribbons, crinolines and all, I had some outfits that Joan Rivers and her homely daughter would have been proud to see on the Red Carpet at any awards show. And I always got new shoes and ruffled socks, a purse, and most years, a hat, to complete my ensemble. I was STYLIN’, y’all.
When I became a mommy, Easter became a time to dress my own daughter in seasonal finery and load up her basket with sweets and toys, and I relished every moment. Coloring eggs, decorating the house, planting spring flowers, preparing the Easter meal--I enjoyed it all.
When my daughter was about 13 or 14 years old I figured she might think Easter baskets were too “babyish” for someone who listened to Nirvana and wore black all the time. Broaching the subject of how old-is-too-old with her, I was surprised at her wide-eyed response.
“Mom!” she responded quickly, “I want an Easter basket until I DIE!!!”
This year, in addition to the usual joys of the season, I have some “extras” to make my Easter special. I will still plant something colorful. I will still plan and prepare a delicious meal for my family. I will also be performing our last matinee of “Steel Magnolias” on Sunday afternoon, and my now-28-year-old daughter will be in the audience. And this year, she is expecting my first grandchild! How joyous is that?
So to all my friends, I hope you have a joyous and blessed Easter (or Passover) season and a spring filled with rebirth and promise. If you can, come out to see my show sometime this weekend. It’s good, no kidding. Bake the ham, hide the eggs, celebrate spring, worship in your own way, but be happy.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go stuff an Easter basket.
Hemphasis
In response to the uproar about Michael Phelps smoking weed, here are a few quotes and facts, going way back to those founding fathers everyone loves to talk about...
"Two of my favorite things are sitting on my front porch smoking a pipe of sweet hemp, and playing my Hohner harmonica." - Abraham Lincoln (from a letter written by Lincoln during his presidency to the head of the Hohner Harmonica Company in Germany)
"Hemp is of first necessity to the wealth & protection of the country."- Thomas Jefferson, U.S.President
"Make the most you can of the Indian Hemp seed and sow it everywhere."- George Washington, U.S.President
"We shall, by and by, want a world of hemp more for our own consumption."- John Adams, U.S.President
"Penalties against possession of a drug should not be more damaging to an individual than the use of the drug itself; and where they are, they should be changed. Nowhere is this more clear than in the laws against possession of marihuana in private for personal use... Therefore, I support legislation amending Federal law to eliminate all Federal criminal penalties for the possession of up to one ounce of marihuana." - Jimmy Carter, U.S.President
"The war on drugs has been an utter failure. We need to rethink and decriminalize our nation's marijuana laws." -Barack Obama, January 2004
"The illegality of cannabis is outrageous, an impediment to full utilization of a drug which helps produce the serenity and insight, sensitivity and fellowship so desperately needed in this increasingly mad and dangerous world." - Carl Sagan, renown scientist, astronomer, astrochemist, author and TV host
"Why use up the forests which were centuries in the making and the mines which required ages to lay down, if we can get the equivalent of forest and mineral products in the annual growth of the hemp fields?" - Henry Ford, whose first Model-T was constructed from hemp fibers and built to run on hemp gasoline
"Prohibition... goes beyond the bound of reason in that it attempts to control a man's appetite by legislation and makes a crime out of things that are not crimes.A prohibition law strikes a blow at the very principles upon which our government was founded" -Abraham Lincoln
"The prestige of government has undoubtedly been lowered considerably by the prohibition law. For nothing is more destructive of respect for the government and the law of the land than passing laws which cannot be enforced. It is an open secret that the dangerous increase of crime in this country is closely connected with this." - Albert Einstein quote on Hemp
"That is not a drug. It's a leaf." - Arnold Schwarzenegger, Governor of California
"If the words "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" don't include the right to experiment with your own consciousness, then the Declaration of Independence isn't worth the hemp it was written on."- Terence McKenna
"I inhaled frequently. That was the point." - Barack Obama, U.S.President
----------A few facts about Hemp, in case you were wondering:The first Bibles, maps, charts, Betsy Ross's flag, the first drafts of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were made from hemp.80% of all textiles, fabrics, clothes, linen, drapes, bed sheets, etc. were made from hemp until the 1820s with the introduction of the cotton gin.
It was legal to pay taxes with Hemp in America from 1631 until the early 1800s.Refusing to grow Hemp in America during the 17th and 18th Centuries was against the law. You could be jailed in Virginia for refusing to grow hemp from 1763 to 1769.Rembrants, Gainsboroughs, Van Goghs as well as most early canvas paintings were principally painted on hemp linen.In 1916, the U.S. Government Dept. of Agriculture predicted that by the 1940s all paper would come from hemp and that no more trees need to be cut down.For thousands of years, 90% of all ships' sails and rope were made from hemp. The word 'canvas' is Dutch for cannabis.The hemp plant produces up to four times more cellulose per acre than trees. Hemp cultivation and production do not harm the environment.
The USDA Bulletin #404 concluded that Hemp produces 4 times as much pulp with at least 4 to 7 times less pollution.Hemp fuel is non-toxic, biodegradable and does not contribute to sulfur dioxide air poisoning.In Feb. 1938, Popular Mechanics called Hemp a 'Billion Dollar Crop.' It was the first time a cash crop had a business potential to exceed a billion dollars.
The following information comes directly from the United States Department of Agriculture's 1942 14-minute film encouraging and instructing 'patriotic American farmers' to grow 350,000 acres of hemp each year for the war effort:'...
(When) Grecian temples were new, hemp was already old in the service of mankind. For thousands of years, even then, this plant had been grown for cordage and cloth in China and elsewhere in the East. For centuries prior to about 1850, all the ships that sailed the western seas were rigged with hempen rope and sails. For the sailor, no less than the hangman, hemp was indispensable......Now with Philippine and East Indian sources of hemp in the hands of the Japanese...American hemp must meet the needs of our Army and Navy as well as of our industries......the Navy's rapidly dwindling reserves. When that is gone, American hemp will go on duty again; hemp for mooring ships; hemp for tow lines; hemp for tackle and gear; hemp for countless naval uses both on ship and shore. Just as in the days when Old Ironsides sailed the seas victorious with her hempen shrouds and hempen sails.Hemp for victory!'
Thanks for reading...
"Two of my favorite things are sitting on my front porch smoking a pipe of sweet hemp, and playing my Hohner harmonica." - Abraham Lincoln (from a letter written by Lincoln during his presidency to the head of the Hohner Harmonica Company in Germany)
"Hemp is of first necessity to the wealth & protection of the country."- Thomas Jefferson, U.S.President
"Make the most you can of the Indian Hemp seed and sow it everywhere."- George Washington, U.S.President
"We shall, by and by, want a world of hemp more for our own consumption."- John Adams, U.S.President
"Penalties against possession of a drug should not be more damaging to an individual than the use of the drug itself; and where they are, they should be changed. Nowhere is this more clear than in the laws against possession of marihuana in private for personal use... Therefore, I support legislation amending Federal law to eliminate all Federal criminal penalties for the possession of up to one ounce of marihuana." - Jimmy Carter, U.S.President
"The war on drugs has been an utter failure. We need to rethink and decriminalize our nation's marijuana laws." -Barack Obama, January 2004
"The illegality of cannabis is outrageous, an impediment to full utilization of a drug which helps produce the serenity and insight, sensitivity and fellowship so desperately needed in this increasingly mad and dangerous world." - Carl Sagan, renown scientist, astronomer, astrochemist, author and TV host
"Why use up the forests which were centuries in the making and the mines which required ages to lay down, if we can get the equivalent of forest and mineral products in the annual growth of the hemp fields?" - Henry Ford, whose first Model-T was constructed from hemp fibers and built to run on hemp gasoline
"Prohibition... goes beyond the bound of reason in that it attempts to control a man's appetite by legislation and makes a crime out of things that are not crimes.A prohibition law strikes a blow at the very principles upon which our government was founded" -Abraham Lincoln
"The prestige of government has undoubtedly been lowered considerably by the prohibition law. For nothing is more destructive of respect for the government and the law of the land than passing laws which cannot be enforced. It is an open secret that the dangerous increase of crime in this country is closely connected with this." - Albert Einstein quote on Hemp
"That is not a drug. It's a leaf." - Arnold Schwarzenegger, Governor of California
"If the words "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" don't include the right to experiment with your own consciousness, then the Declaration of Independence isn't worth the hemp it was written on."- Terence McKenna
"I inhaled frequently. That was the point." - Barack Obama, U.S.President
----------A few facts about Hemp, in case you were wondering:The first Bibles, maps, charts, Betsy Ross's flag, the first drafts of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were made from hemp.80% of all textiles, fabrics, clothes, linen, drapes, bed sheets, etc. were made from hemp until the 1820s with the introduction of the cotton gin.
It was legal to pay taxes with Hemp in America from 1631 until the early 1800s.Refusing to grow Hemp in America during the 17th and 18th Centuries was against the law. You could be jailed in Virginia for refusing to grow hemp from 1763 to 1769.Rembrants, Gainsboroughs, Van Goghs as well as most early canvas paintings were principally painted on hemp linen.In 1916, the U.S. Government Dept. of Agriculture predicted that by the 1940s all paper would come from hemp and that no more trees need to be cut down.For thousands of years, 90% of all ships' sails and rope were made from hemp. The word 'canvas' is Dutch for cannabis.The hemp plant produces up to four times more cellulose per acre than trees. Hemp cultivation and production do not harm the environment.
The USDA Bulletin #404 concluded that Hemp produces 4 times as much pulp with at least 4 to 7 times less pollution.Hemp fuel is non-toxic, biodegradable and does not contribute to sulfur dioxide air poisoning.In Feb. 1938, Popular Mechanics called Hemp a 'Billion Dollar Crop.' It was the first time a cash crop had a business potential to exceed a billion dollars.
The following information comes directly from the United States Department of Agriculture's 1942 14-minute film encouraging and instructing 'patriotic American farmers' to grow 350,000 acres of hemp each year for the war effort:'...
(When) Grecian temples were new, hemp was already old in the service of mankind. For thousands of years, even then, this plant had been grown for cordage and cloth in China and elsewhere in the East. For centuries prior to about 1850, all the ships that sailed the western seas were rigged with hempen rope and sails. For the sailor, no less than the hangman, hemp was indispensable......Now with Philippine and East Indian sources of hemp in the hands of the Japanese...American hemp must meet the needs of our Army and Navy as well as of our industries......the Navy's rapidly dwindling reserves. When that is gone, American hemp will go on duty again; hemp for mooring ships; hemp for tow lines; hemp for tackle and gear; hemp for countless naval uses both on ship and shore. Just as in the days when Old Ironsides sailed the seas victorious with her hempen shrouds and hempen sails.Hemp for victory!'
Thanks for reading...
Greetings and Good Wishes
(Originally published January 1, 2009)
We wake up to a new year today and wonder at its possibilities.Well, actually, 2009 is just a number we assign to a space of 365 days, based on a calendar created ages ago to commemorate a life which only spanned 33 years. It's all pretty arbitrary when you think about it.
The earth and its inhabitants have been around far longer than the average human brain can comprehend. In the grand scheme of things, we humans are pretty tiny and ineffectual. Sure, we can build huge monuments and hold back the flow of water through dams and dykes. We can invent things which help us control our environment as much as possible in order to make our existance simpler and easier. But when a tsunami or a hurricane strikes, when ice and snow destroys our electrical supply and our means of communication, when illness takes huge groups of humanity and snuffs out their lives, we must put aside our arrogance and accept our place in the Big Picture.
We as a species have struggled and climbed to the top of the food chain on this planet, often while wiping out other living populations as we ascended. Yet we must understand that even our powerful domination can be usurped, and that we, too, may be eliminated eventually as the panorama of life in the universe unfolds.Life continues, season after season, whether Wall Street rises or falls, whether you upgrade your posessions or not, whether you achieve the position you feel you deserve or remain where you have always been. We are temporary and small in the web of the universe, but it is nonethless exciting to be part of it all.
Let's try to make this next 365 day period one in which we seek to connect with life around us and to see the beauty and fragility in all of it. It is a miracle that we are here at all, and an even greater miracle that we have persevered to become an intelligent and active force for change on Earth.
Use your position wisely and compassionately this year. Spend time learning about people and places you are not familiar with already. Share your time and resources to promote a better life for all creatures around you. Plant something and watch it grow as the weeks and months pass you by. Love without expecting anything in return. Laugh every day.
Happy New Year, my friends.
We wake up to a new year today and wonder at its possibilities.Well, actually, 2009 is just a number we assign to a space of 365 days, based on a calendar created ages ago to commemorate a life which only spanned 33 years. It's all pretty arbitrary when you think about it.
The earth and its inhabitants have been around far longer than the average human brain can comprehend. In the grand scheme of things, we humans are pretty tiny and ineffectual. Sure, we can build huge monuments and hold back the flow of water through dams and dykes. We can invent things which help us control our environment as much as possible in order to make our existance simpler and easier. But when a tsunami or a hurricane strikes, when ice and snow destroys our electrical supply and our means of communication, when illness takes huge groups of humanity and snuffs out their lives, we must put aside our arrogance and accept our place in the Big Picture.
We as a species have struggled and climbed to the top of the food chain on this planet, often while wiping out other living populations as we ascended. Yet we must understand that even our powerful domination can be usurped, and that we, too, may be eliminated eventually as the panorama of life in the universe unfolds.Life continues, season after season, whether Wall Street rises or falls, whether you upgrade your posessions or not, whether you achieve the position you feel you deserve or remain where you have always been. We are temporary and small in the web of the universe, but it is nonethless exciting to be part of it all.
Let's try to make this next 365 day period one in which we seek to connect with life around us and to see the beauty and fragility in all of it. It is a miracle that we are here at all, and an even greater miracle that we have persevered to become an intelligent and active force for change on Earth.
Use your position wisely and compassionately this year. Spend time learning about people and places you are not familiar with already. Share your time and resources to promote a better life for all creatures around you. Plant something and watch it grow as the weeks and months pass you by. Love without expecting anything in return. Laugh every day.
Happy New Year, my friends.
Goodnight, Sweet Prince...
My beautiful Mastiff, Darren has passed on to the next part of the journey. One day he'll be waiting for me when I pass over, I hope.
He was the sweetest creature of any species I ever encountered in my life, completely without guile or pretense. He loved everyone he ever met and, as a friend said yesterday, "Everyone who met Darren had to smile."
Big enough to eat right off the top of the stove, if he'd been so bold, he was a true gentleman who never used his size to intimidate or bully. I often said the only way he would ever bite might be if someone were covered in gravy, and even then, he'd probably just lick. Darren was an old boy, especially by big dog standards, and he led a full and happy life.
Two years ago we found out he had a growth on his spleen, but because of his age we opted to pass on surgery. The tumor grew, but Darren continued to live and play far longer than we ever expected. He also had a problematic vertebra and continued to carry around his 160 pounds with bright eyes and a big, drooly smile that said it didn't matter. He was stronger than Kelly or I ever thought, and we will always be proud of him for being such a courageous boy. But yesterday, his struggle had become too much, and his long legs could barely stand. He had not eaten anything to speak of in nearly a week and his srength was gone.
I am blessed to have a wonderful vet (David Wilkinson) who came out to my home and administered the shot. Darren and I listened to peaceful music and burned incense while we waited. He even licked at some strawberry yogurt and I wiped the milky smudge off his big nose. Then he lay down and stayed there to the end, not putting up a fight, just drifting gently away while I rubbed his soft head.
After Kelly and I said our last goodbyes, my dear friends from the local crematory came in and hugged us both. They wrapped Darren in a body bag and placed him on the gurney with all the respect they would give a person. It was the best way to deal with a very sad situation I could have asked for and I feel blessed to know such good people.And, of course I feel blessed to have shared my life with Darren.
"And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest..."
He was the sweetest creature of any species I ever encountered in my life, completely without guile or pretense. He loved everyone he ever met and, as a friend said yesterday, "Everyone who met Darren had to smile."
Big enough to eat right off the top of the stove, if he'd been so bold, he was a true gentleman who never used his size to intimidate or bully. I often said the only way he would ever bite might be if someone were covered in gravy, and even then, he'd probably just lick. Darren was an old boy, especially by big dog standards, and he led a full and happy life.
Two years ago we found out he had a growth on his spleen, but because of his age we opted to pass on surgery. The tumor grew, but Darren continued to live and play far longer than we ever expected. He also had a problematic vertebra and continued to carry around his 160 pounds with bright eyes and a big, drooly smile that said it didn't matter. He was stronger than Kelly or I ever thought, and we will always be proud of him for being such a courageous boy. But yesterday, his struggle had become too much, and his long legs could barely stand. He had not eaten anything to speak of in nearly a week and his srength was gone.
I am blessed to have a wonderful vet (David Wilkinson) who came out to my home and administered the shot. Darren and I listened to peaceful music and burned incense while we waited. He even licked at some strawberry yogurt and I wiped the milky smudge off his big nose. Then he lay down and stayed there to the end, not putting up a fight, just drifting gently away while I rubbed his soft head.
After Kelly and I said our last goodbyes, my dear friends from the local crematory came in and hugged us both. They wrapped Darren in a body bag and placed him on the gurney with all the respect they would give a person. It was the best way to deal with a very sad situation I could have asked for and I feel blessed to know such good people.And, of course I feel blessed to have shared my life with Darren.
"And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest..."
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Giving thanks, and just "giving"...
Having just finished the most gluttonous holiday on the calendar, I wanted to give a Thanksgiving followup message.
I hope you all had a great day, spent with folks you love, and had plenty to eat. I also hope everyone actually spent some time being thankful.
Did you had loved ones near? If so, you are blessed. If you have pretty good health, that's another blessing. Have a job right now? You're doing better than a LOT of people. A home of your own, or even just a reliable roof overhead? That's another reason to give thanks. If you ate enough to be miserable, you're ahead of a lot of the world's population. Guilty of gluttonous indigestion? C'mon, be honest...
During the next few weeks, charity organizations like The Salvation Army and Toys for Tots will be seeking donations of cash, food and gifts for those who didn't answer "yes" to some of those questions above. Please do what you can to help a child or a family have a bit of holiday cheer this Christmas season. Give what cash you can, or donate a gift. Drop a few items in a community grocery box. Donate your time to a soup kitchen or foodbank.
Anything you can contribute will give others a chance to feel blessed, and give you a chance to feel good about the holidays.
We're trying to usher in a time of "change" for our nation, and I think dropping the change in your pocket into a Salvation Army bucket is a good place to start.
I hope you all had a great day, spent with folks you love, and had plenty to eat. I also hope everyone actually spent some time being thankful.
Did you had loved ones near? If so, you are blessed. If you have pretty good health, that's another blessing. Have a job right now? You're doing better than a LOT of people. A home of your own, or even just a reliable roof overhead? That's another reason to give thanks. If you ate enough to be miserable, you're ahead of a lot of the world's population. Guilty of gluttonous indigestion? C'mon, be honest...
During the next few weeks, charity organizations like The Salvation Army and Toys for Tots will be seeking donations of cash, food and gifts for those who didn't answer "yes" to some of those questions above. Please do what you can to help a child or a family have a bit of holiday cheer this Christmas season. Give what cash you can, or donate a gift. Drop a few items in a community grocery box. Donate your time to a soup kitchen or foodbank.
Anything you can contribute will give others a chance to feel blessed, and give you a chance to feel good about the holidays.
We're trying to usher in a time of "change" for our nation, and I think dropping the change in your pocket into a Salvation Army bucket is a good place to start.
March Madness (short, short story)
When the whistling stopped, Dan knew the marching would begin. It had been this way every night for a week now. Loud, even thuds on the ceiling, the rhythmic pace always following the same course. Down the south side of the room for about 10 feet, then a sharp turn to the right for six feet where the marching went from thuds to clatters as the carpeted bedroom in the apartment above him joined the tile of the bathroom floor.
He knew this because all the apartments in this building had the same layout. This was the B building, and in B building, everyone’s apartment looked pretty much like his. His friend Walter lived in A building, where the floor plans were reversed, but that really has nothing to do with this story. It’s just that all sorts of information was marching through Dan’s head right now, marching to the same rhythm as the determined foot soldier above him.
He turned up the volume on his television and tried to concentrate on an episode of “Seinfeld”. It was a good one. Jerry and George were riding in a limousine, and the driver thought they were Neo-Nazis. He was taking them to Madison Square Garden to make a speech to a crowd of other Neo-Nazis. Boy, were they sweating, trying to get out of this mess…
The marching above Dan changed course, moving diagonally toward the kitchen, where more tile amplified the sound. The whistling had been revived, some off-key tune he didn’t recognize, and occasionally a few words were sung. It sounded German.
On the television, Elaine and Kramer were standing on a street corner, waiting for Jerry and George to pick them up in the limousine. Dan usually got a good laugh or two from this episode, but tonight it was impossible to concentrate on what was being said. His hand tapped the arm of the recliner to the beat of the stamping feet above, and his anger began to build.
What right did this jerk have to interrupt someone’s life every single night with his jack-booted insanity? Didn’t he realize there was someone living below him, someone who might not appreciate the damned marching and whistling? Maybe this guy really was a Nazi! Dan had never met the occupant of the apartment above, and, for all he knew, this guy could be some Skinhead or Aryan Supremacist. That would explain the German gibberish he was sure he’d been hearing in those moments when the marching subsided.
He turned off the television. Sorry, Jerry, but some anti-Semite neighbor of mine doesn’t want me watching your show. Dan decided it was time for a confrontation.
On the way to the elevator, he began composing the speech he would deliver to this hateful, thoughtless individual who probably lived alone in his apartment, surrounded by pictures of the Fuehrer. He wondered if it might even be an old German war criminal, hiding out here in the building with his memories of the glory that was the Third Reich.
I don’t care how old he is, Dan thought to himself. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind and maybe even a punch in the face. Satisfaction “uber alles”, that’s what I’m talking about!
The elevator doors opened and he made his way down the hallway to the apartment directly above his own. Gathering his anger along with his courage, he knocked loudly on the door. The marching stopped as a woman’s voice called out in German.
What’s this? Was Eva Braun in there, too?
After a moment, the door was opened by a very pretty blonde woman in a bathrobe. She was definitely too young to be Eva.
“Hello”, she was saying, “Are you from the cable company?” Her eyes were clear blue and her cheeks dimpled slightly when she spoke.
“No, I…I’m… your neighbor from downstairs”, Dan stammered. “I heard…I’ve been hearing…marching…” his voice trailed off weakly as he stared into her lovely Teutonic face. Sorry, Jerry, I would have been no good to you at Nuremburg.
“Oh, I’m so sorry”, she said, “That’s just my son, Henning. He gets bored. Our cable has been out for over a week now, and I’m having trouble getting anyone in here to fix it.”
As she said this, the foot soldier himself appeared at his mother’s side. He was about eight years old, dark-haired and pale, and he wore a toy gun on his belt. Dan decided he wasn’t going to punch him after all.
“Has your husband looked at the cable box?” he asked, “Sometimes if you just mess with the box a little, it comes back on.”
“I am divorced”, the woman was saying. “My husband went back to Munich, and it is just the two of us now.” Her accent was adorable. No wonder Hitler fell for Eva.
“My name’s Dan”, he said, offering his hand to the woman. “Maybe I can help figure out the problem.”
“I am Brigitta”, she smiled at him. It was a beautiful smile.
Henning stared without a word. There was something about the kid that was a little creepy. He wasn’t Eichmann, though he might be one day. Today he was just part of the package that included the lovely Brigitta, and Dan was tired of watching Seinfeld reruns alone.
“Which way’s your television?” he asked as he walked bravely into Eva’s bunker.
He knew this because all the apartments in this building had the same layout. This was the B building, and in B building, everyone’s apartment looked pretty much like his. His friend Walter lived in A building, where the floor plans were reversed, but that really has nothing to do with this story. It’s just that all sorts of information was marching through Dan’s head right now, marching to the same rhythm as the determined foot soldier above him.
He turned up the volume on his television and tried to concentrate on an episode of “Seinfeld”. It was a good one. Jerry and George were riding in a limousine, and the driver thought they were Neo-Nazis. He was taking them to Madison Square Garden to make a speech to a crowd of other Neo-Nazis. Boy, were they sweating, trying to get out of this mess…
The marching above Dan changed course, moving diagonally toward the kitchen, where more tile amplified the sound. The whistling had been revived, some off-key tune he didn’t recognize, and occasionally a few words were sung. It sounded German.
On the television, Elaine and Kramer were standing on a street corner, waiting for Jerry and George to pick them up in the limousine. Dan usually got a good laugh or two from this episode, but tonight it was impossible to concentrate on what was being said. His hand tapped the arm of the recliner to the beat of the stamping feet above, and his anger began to build.
What right did this jerk have to interrupt someone’s life every single night with his jack-booted insanity? Didn’t he realize there was someone living below him, someone who might not appreciate the damned marching and whistling? Maybe this guy really was a Nazi! Dan had never met the occupant of the apartment above, and, for all he knew, this guy could be some Skinhead or Aryan Supremacist. That would explain the German gibberish he was sure he’d been hearing in those moments when the marching subsided.
He turned off the television. Sorry, Jerry, but some anti-Semite neighbor of mine doesn’t want me watching your show. Dan decided it was time for a confrontation.
On the way to the elevator, he began composing the speech he would deliver to this hateful, thoughtless individual who probably lived alone in his apartment, surrounded by pictures of the Fuehrer. He wondered if it might even be an old German war criminal, hiding out here in the building with his memories of the glory that was the Third Reich.
I don’t care how old he is, Dan thought to himself. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind and maybe even a punch in the face. Satisfaction “uber alles”, that’s what I’m talking about!
The elevator doors opened and he made his way down the hallway to the apartment directly above his own. Gathering his anger along with his courage, he knocked loudly on the door. The marching stopped as a woman’s voice called out in German.
What’s this? Was Eva Braun in there, too?
After a moment, the door was opened by a very pretty blonde woman in a bathrobe. She was definitely too young to be Eva.
“Hello”, she was saying, “Are you from the cable company?” Her eyes were clear blue and her cheeks dimpled slightly when she spoke.
“No, I…I’m… your neighbor from downstairs”, Dan stammered. “I heard…I’ve been hearing…marching…” his voice trailed off weakly as he stared into her lovely Teutonic face. Sorry, Jerry, I would have been no good to you at Nuremburg.
“Oh, I’m so sorry”, she said, “That’s just my son, Henning. He gets bored. Our cable has been out for over a week now, and I’m having trouble getting anyone in here to fix it.”
As she said this, the foot soldier himself appeared at his mother’s side. He was about eight years old, dark-haired and pale, and he wore a toy gun on his belt. Dan decided he wasn’t going to punch him after all.
“Has your husband looked at the cable box?” he asked, “Sometimes if you just mess with the box a little, it comes back on.”
“I am divorced”, the woman was saying. “My husband went back to Munich, and it is just the two of us now.” Her accent was adorable. No wonder Hitler fell for Eva.
“My name’s Dan”, he said, offering his hand to the woman. “Maybe I can help figure out the problem.”
“I am Brigitta”, she smiled at him. It was a beautiful smile.
Henning stared without a word. There was something about the kid that was a little creepy. He wasn’t Eichmann, though he might be one day. Today he was just part of the package that included the lovely Brigitta, and Dan was tired of watching Seinfeld reruns alone.
“Which way’s your television?” he asked as he walked bravely into Eva’s bunker.
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