Operation Eagle Visit

During the Vietnam era, my hometown adopted A Company, 1st Battalion, 327th Infantry Regiment, 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne Division, the Screaming Eagles, and, according to the free daily newsrag here, was the only town in the country to hold a parade for returning Vietnam vets in 1972. So today (yesterday, now), the town did a repeat performance for the original parade's 40th anniversary.

Being civic-minded (if activity in those neighborhood groups that give the city council a hard time counts) citizens, and hearing that there was going to be food, Piglette and I strolled downtown to take in the festivities. However, being somewhat late risers, we missed half the parade. We did arrive just in time for Piglette to see horses, though.

And she also got to see the contingency from the local animal shelter. She went nuts for the horses, barking up a storm, and then tried to walk out into the street to greet the dogs. A lot of the day's photos were taken while pulling her back from something.

We arrived at the park, where the post-parade activities were held, just in time to watch them roll up the flag.

It could be my age talking (the older I get, the younger other people look), and you can't tell from this photo, but what struck me about these young men and women is that they are not far from being kids.My perception of what I think a soldier looks like has been skewed by the 30 and 40-something actors who portray them in films. It is sobering to realize that real soldiers resemble the kids playing in my neighbor's yard more than they do middle-aged actors.

It was even more sobering to see the never-ending line for the food. Fortunately, the beer line was short and it was only $5.00 for a Sierra Nevada pale ale! And, the food truck was a clever modified fire truck design, manned by local firefighters.

Piglette and I walked around the park, looking at the booths, greeting ALL the other dogs, watching the entertainment -- the local taiko group, a banjo band, a cover band -- and shaking hands with soldiers. Well, I shook hands, Piglette got a lot of rubs and stories about pets they had back home.

And with the thought of home, Piglette and I headed back to our own, sauntering the long way through downtown, stopping at our favorite places on the way, like Three Bs coffee, where they put smiley faces in my cappuccino and Wisnom's Hardware, where the ladies always have dog biscuits for Piglette, and Donut Delite, where they put extra donuts in my bag. It was a good day to appreciate everyone who makes our lives a little better in their own way. In particular, I appreciate that guy who still loves me, even though I can be broody and sometimes have anger issues and occasionally yell... just occasionally.

The story of how San Mateo came to adopt the Screaming Eagles is a bittersweet one. Sgt Joe Artavia wrote to his sister, Linda, asking if she could convince one of the local cities to adopt his unit. She had his request fulfilled, but two months later, her brother was killed in action. Linda went on to form America Supporting Americans, which works to match sponsors to units.

Screen Shot

One would think that the rambunctiously enthusiastic dog would be the reason I need to replace the screening on my back porch door at regular intervals, but no. The innocent-looking cat that spends most of the day sleeping and her claws are the culprit! I've replaced the screen three times in the last two years, and two of the three times, kitty "klaw" tears were the reason the screen broke. Yes, Piglette did break one when she was a puppy, but she's learned to paw at the door frame instead of the screen (hence the brown spot in the photo - I'd rather have to clean and touch up paint than replace a screen).

So this past weekend, I built a little frame out of scrap wood I have lying around (you'd have to see my scrap wood piles to truly appreciate how much junk my family hoards) that fits inside the bottom portion of the door frame opening. I originally intended for it to divide the door screening into smaller portions, so I'd only have to replace the bottom where Gigi scratches. But now I think plexiglass in the frame is a better long-term option -- sturdier and easier to clean, and the top portion will still be screened for air flow. I just have to figure out how I'd attach the plexiglass.

Unfortunately, I ran out of patience to build another frame for the door on the left, so my doors no longer match. I'd like to think that the effect is whimsical, which suits my personality more, but in my heart I know that's a bald-faced lie!

By the way, it may seem as though I've abandoned my blog, but I try to visit others and say hello or leave a comment or two. It's just been difficult for me to sit down and organize my thoughts into anything writeable for the past year.

First, serving on the board of an animal welfare charity was challenging. Small charities are often led by people who feel strongly about "the cause" but are not necessarily those with strong leadership skills. Personal feelings, rather than duty to put the organization first, have a disproportionate influence on decision-making, which can put the whole organization at risk. Going in, it's easy to think you'll be the one who will be able to use reason to move things in a positive direction. When my one year term came due, I bowed out of a second term.

Dissatisfied with raising heck in the animal welfare domain, I rejoined the ranks of my neighborhood association (I was secretary of the umbrella organization that provided a unified voice for all neighborhood groups in my city, back in the day) and began battling city hall over the implementation of wobblette (can be charged as either an infraction or misdemeanor) statutes, which are based on the wobblers (can be charged as either a felony or misdemeanor) in the California state code. The problem is not necessarily in the spirit of the law, but in the letter, which is inadequate (I think) in providing checks and balances in the implementation. The proviso was added that the city attorney prepare an annual report of results and the city attorney promised to provide more detail with regard to how he plans to implement it. A short-term win as long as he remains in that position, but who knows long-term.

Given the last two paragraphs, you'd think there'd be something interesting to write about crazy animal welfare people and potential abuse of power. But the first topic was taboo, because my first responsibility was the welfare of the organization while I was on the board, and writing about it while still caught up in it was a bad idea. The second issue just sucked up a lot of time -- I'm not a lawyer, so had to do a lot of background research around a part-time job and consulting efforts, and maintain communications with the three city council members who bothered to reply, the city attorney and the neighorhood associations. All this said, I am still somewhat at a loss for words in general right now, and though I will be posting on occasion, it won't be regularly.

Semper Fideles

I wrote this entry one year ago in anticipation of my housemate taking his pets with him when he and his girlfriend moved down to So Cal to be closer to his ailing mother. It has been in my drafts, waiting for that fateful day when he returned to take them with him after they had settled into their new place... and that has not come to pass. Rather than let this languish in my drafts or delete it, I thought I'd post it now, in honor of MY dog.
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It seems that the cold has arrived with the month of November, a chill which didn't exist just a few days ago. While I sit at my desk, my housemate's dog lies at my feet, protecting me from the cold and anything else that may threaten me.

Piglette has been with us since September 2007, when my housemate adopted her from WKODIT (What Kind of Dog Is That?) rescue. Having been through at least two homes and a kennel, she was a tad uncertain and insecure her first months here. Being left alone made her nervous, as did bringing her anywhere in the car.

When she decided that she was in a stable place and wouldn't be abandoned again, she blossomed, and has returned more love and faithfulness than she has ever received. She is always at my side, always happy just to be near me, always protective, always wanting just to make me happy.

That's the wonderful thing about dogs -- you can always count on them to be there for you through thick and thin, to lift your spirits when you feel down, to be your faithful companion. Dogs do not know the effort you make to spend real time with them, but they always value and appreciate the time you set aside to spend with them as though they do know. People are more like cats, they tend to come and go as the mood or opportunity suits them.

Piglette is technically my housemate's dog, but she and I have formed a strong bond in the last three years. I tend to be the one who feeds her and cleans up after her, and she usually sleeps with me. So, I anticipate that when my housemate and his girlfriend move to Southern California in the next few months that giving up my faithful companion will be difficult, if not heartbreaking, for both of us. How do you take a dog that has been abandoned multiple times from the only consistent home it has known and not expect it to feel abandoned once again? And how do you abandon the most faithful, consistent companion you have ever known?

Cruising

Juneau at dusk

August 2011

 I'm back from the Alaskan cruise! I enjoyed the time with my family (and thanks, dad, for paying my way so I could go) on the Norwegian Pearl, which my father booked through Costco (yes, the discount warehouse people). Alaska is, indeed, the breathtaking natural wonder that everyone raves about. As it turns out, however, I am not a cruise person.

I had never been on a cruise before. I'm not much of a structured vacationer or touring type. I amble into town, rent an apartment or check into a cheap hotel, unpack my bags, and settle into base camp, taking day excursions at my leisure.

Cruises are relatively structured. Although good food is available 24 hours per day, the best food is served at set hours, and every time you walk into one of the dining rooms, they immediately spray you with hand sanitizer. Activities and use of facilities are also limited to certain times. Plus, you can't just leave town at will. If you get antsy, you can either jump into freezing, deep water or wait until the ship reaches a port... which brings up ports.

Glacier Bay, reversal print

At each port, you have 8 to 10 hours to do everything you want to do in that area. Pre-planning and prioritizing are essential. Although the largest cities in Alaska are still relatively small towns, they still have more than 10 hours' worth of wilderness, quaint town experiences, and museums I'd like to see. Plus, there isn't much opportunity to interact with the locals to get advice, other than the tour guides.

The typical port call goes something like this... everyone rushes off the boat to find their scheduled tour or transport. During the day, you rush from place to place, listening to tour guides, snapping photos, buying trinkets. At the end of it all, the tour drops you exhausted at the docks, just in time to crawl back on the boat before it leaves you behind. My sister and her husband, both flight attendants, are accustomed to, and I think very much enjoy, the frenetic pace.

Mendenhall Glacier
The highlights? Our tour guide in Skagway, Klondike Kevin, takes groups of 6 to 10 and will personalize your tour to your wants. He hasn't done anything with his web site, but we booked him through Dyea Dave, who takes larger groups. The crew on the ship made the renewal of vows by my sister and her husband a special day. And we saw a lot of animals, which I hope to cover in a separate entry.

I needed a vacation after my vacation! Actually, in spite of the crew's best efforts to wipe out every viri and bacteria on the ship, I managed to come down with a sore throat and the sniffles on the last day, just in time to meet my boyfriend in Seattle and spend a couple days with him there.

Stages

Nasturtium, 2011

"It was drilled into me that anything less than winning was failure. In the impressionable way of sons, I did not consider this rhetorically; I took him at his word... when I noticed that this deity who asked only for perfection was himself less than perfect... I wasn't able to shrug it off. I was consumed instead by a blinding rage. The revelation that he was merely human, and frightfully so, was beyond my power to forgive."

Jon Krakauer

Into the Wild

This passage of Jon Krakauer's made little, if any, impression on me when I originally read his chronicle of a young man's foray into the Alaska wilderness that resulted in his death. But when I happened upon it again as I was thumbing through a few weeks ago, it stayed with me.

Hollyhock, June 2011

As a child of parents who instilled the values of hard work, education and more hard work in me at a young age, I have struggled with similar resentments and feelings of inadequacy at different points in my life. When I wailed "This is boring!" they reminded me that I chose to view whatever it was as boring, and instead of expecting my surroundings to fully nourish me with no effort on my part, I should see the potential in my surroundings.

In the moment, the speeches that my parents referred to as constructive criticism seemed more like nagging diatribe. But as I move somewhat less than gracefully through my midlife, I now understand how my parents expected a lot of me because they cared. I can even see how they were often correct, and realize that, yes, our situations are largely what we make of them. The past few years have been tough. But through those times I managed to realize how lucky I am in many ways. Most people who have the floor drop out from under them professionally don't have the family support structure I do, although I know that some people do choose not to turn to their families for support.

I've also realized that no matter how far I fall, I still have something to give, and there is always someone in greater need than I am. For me right now, that means donating my time, rather than money, but time is a precious commodity and cannot be regained once it passes.

Speaking of time, next week I will be spending it with my family on a cruise ship. My sister and her husband will be renewing their wedding vows. Internet access on the ship is extremely expensive, so I will be leaving the virtual world behind for a week and a half. I think it will be good for me. I hope that all my friends, online and in-person, have the opportunity to spend real time with those they care about the most.

Note: photos in this entry were taken with my new camera, a Samsung HZ30W. My boyfriend gave it to me when I lost my trusty Canon PowerShot. A few weeks after receiving the new camera, I was cleaning my closet, and felt something hard under a pile of t-shirts. It was my Canon. Go figure.