THE 9'S HAVE IT

It still amaze's me (and I really hate to use that word-"amaze"); wait, I just used my Thesarus and found a better word-"dumbfound" me that after all this time and each and every day that I still think about him and wish we could have that one last conversation.  But, really I do.  Everyday since Sept. 29th, 1986 I have a conversation with him like he was still here.  We could be driving in the car, or sitting at our kitchen table in St. Ann, or Richmond Heights sitting on the front porch watching who would drive up (or down) Ralph Terrace.  Or we could be standing in the driveway having that last game of "catch".  I'd see him do his crazy wind up like Dizzy Dean and tell me watch out, here comes his curve.  Really, he didn't even know how to grip a ball to throw a curve, let alone which way would the stupid ball go. But, it was him in his make shift way of trying to show me that he was something he wasn't. And all I really wanted him to be was himself. Not some corporate exec that made millions of dollars, or a computer geek that could hack his way into the Pentagon, nor even a world class chef. I just wanted him to be what he was the best at-my Dad.

Happy 99th. I love you,
Dan

Hey there, Georgy Girl

I was blessed to meet her 15 1/2 years ago (along with her brother). She was a "crybaby" as it goes when I brought her home.  Always talking, vocalizing something of either her displeasure or happiness.  In the beginning it might have been her displeasure.  Who wouldn't I guess, if they had a dermoid growing out of their eyeball!  My God, this little girl had this tiny hair follicle growing, literally out of her eyeball.  They told me they'd have to do surgery to correct it.  I thought to myself what a start this girl is getting in life having to endure such an intricate surgery.  Alas, one surgery wasn't enough and there were several others that followed with the last one their telling me she may have to just live with it and possibly subsequent eye infections.  However, what ever gods that were following her (I have to believe it was mine) the last surgery corrected it and it was never an issue.  But maybe that was to leave her with this sweet vocalizing whenever I'd go to pick her up, or she'd lay on my pillow, or I'd tap her on her rump; she'd always give this what I call a "scardy kitty" meow.  It was her way of telling me she approved....and whole heartedly.  Or, when she was really pleased, she'd look at me with those big green eyes and give me these gentle staccato meows, almost to say, "please, do that again".

Through the years her and her other two cohorts would always grace my day, either by nonchalantly plastering themselves on the back of the couch or fixating themselves to the pillows.  She was always last to the food bowl, anxiously waiting for the scraps or "spoils" of whatever her brother and friend would leave behind.  Often I would have to garnish her plate with more.  Never did she walk away hungry.

Lately, she made her way to my bed and waited for me to arrive.  Once we were all snuggled in she would again start with those little staccato burps of meow....followed by her incessant purring and would search for my hand to lick and clean.  I'd awaked in the middle of the night to feel her snuggled with her brother against my legs or even atop my hip.  When it was time to eat in the morning, off she (and her brother) would charge down the steps and await the breakfast bell.

Georgy left me yesterday, taken by force greater than her, me, or modern medicine.  It came quickly and without warning-pancreatic cancer.  How is it that these dreaded diseases must adhere themselves to such precious few?  With God's creations that grant us such an undeniable joy, comes such heartache and suffering at the end. For all the happiness and pleasure that they afford us, I would think that when their time came, that God would just have this giant pleasure train that would make it's way into our lives and give a "shout out", "All Aboard" and He would bring them home that way, not with suffering, or pain at the end.

When you have a multiple animal household (as I do), one would think with one gone, that absence wouldn't be felt as much.  WRONG....it becomes more acute!  One becomes so aware of that absence it becomes somewhat unbearable.  I walk into the spare bedroom where she often laid on the bed on top of the pillow (I can still see her hair gracing the cover; the sound of her meow from under the bed when it was time to jump in; her soft gently purr in my closet as I'd get ready for work; and most of all her faint step across my comforter as I tucked away for the night.

Dad, I want you to take care of my little girl....be gentle with her and show her around with "baby steps".  She's shy till you get to know her, and always be ready at bedtime....she'll be right there waiting.

Miss you Georgy!

I DIDN'T FORGET YOU

Dear Dad,

It seems like yesterday that I sat with you in your final moments of life.  I struggled then as I do now to watch you leave me. The loss hasn't gotten any easier and I miss you each day. I remember growing up and having the belief that Dads don't die, and especially not mine.  But with maturity, some semblance of reasoning, and a lot of understanding, I came to realize that death comes to all...even Dads and more so-mine. It was a bittersweet realization for me.  If you remember my words to you as I delivered your eulogy Oct. 1, 1976, "I had a love-hate relationship with my Dad, I loved to hate him". It was a myriad of emotions that flooded me for a good portion of my life with you.  I never understood your alcoholism and certainly my response to it. It evoked anger, frustration, sorrow, grief, despair, and above all loss.  For I lost those years with you.  I was angry with you for "going away" from me. I was frustrated that my Dad couldn't act around my friends like all the other Dads. It saddened me to see your sorrow in allowing this dreaded disease control you, destroy our family, and hasten the end to your life. It's a loss that I still miss to this day.  It would be "easy" to sit at this keyboard and recall those late nights when I sat at the window in our second story flat watching, waiting, longing for your car to pull into the driveway, knowing you had safely arrived home after a night of bar tending. I'd like to forget those nights when you'd awake in the middle of the night causing havoc to Mom as lie sleeping. Instead, I want to fondly remember the days you'd have catch me in the driveway, or all the Cards games you took my best friend Danny and me to watch at the old Sportsman's Park; or how you taught me to drive a stick shift in your 49' Willy's Jeep.  And probably the greatest knowledge I came to know very late in my life which was actually after you had gone was the story my other "Dad" told me. Dad Doerr, my forever baseball mentor and coach relayed the story to me of how you used to come and watch me pitch and as you stood out of sight behind the school wall so as not to "make me nervous". He told me that story several years ago as he himself lay in critical condition after suffering 3 heart attacks in one day. "If you build it, he will come"....the words of Ray Kinsella ring in my ears.
Hey Dad, you wanna have catch?

I remember Dan Fogelberg saying as he began singing this song one night, "If I been allowed to write only one song in my lifetime, it would have been this one," So, Paul, this one's for you.

2 YEARS

There's a lot to be said about our relationship with our dogs (and animals), how they affect many life decisions, activities, influences on what we say, and do.  If we've brought them home at a very early age, how can one refute the unassailable aroma of "puppy breath".  We gather them in our arms after their first feeding of puppy chow and then watch them surreptitiously gander about our house looking, searching, sniffing to lay their first load.  As we rush to pick them up, shout "NO, GO POTTY OUTSIDE", little do we think of the inevitable and how this bundle of joy that has given us so much joy, happiness, excitement, will one day break our hearts.  They will travel a road we will not be able to follow.  But, for ever how many years they will be waiting anxiously at the door, greet us with that wet, cold nose, longingly look us in the eye, and tell us there is no greater love we will ever experience, we have reached heaven on earth.  

For 15 years I was so graced and blessed.  I recall my first ride home with her, how she got car sick from the long drive home, how she was the last of the litter.  Was God trying to tell me something even back then.  Did He "save the best for last" for me?  I think so.  

It was during our last "communique" that she reminded me how she had loved our trips and not just our short, fragmented trips around town, but our many vacations off to the see the country with her fine furried friends and how her place in the front seat had to be.  How, she learned this mysterious game only at her choosing to deceive me into thinking this is what she wanted to do.  I should have known-a Border Collie is smarter than the average owner.  I was no different.  I should have understood that when I tried to teach her frisbee. Little did I know, she played only at her whim.  

Yes, 2 years seems like a long time.  But, in human years, I know she waits for me along with her other friends till I arrive.  Miss ya' Piper girl.

Thought For the Day

        " Nobody ever figures out what life is all about, and it doesn't matter. Explore the world. Nearly everything is really interesting if you go into it deeply enough."      

Richard P. Feynman

A LIttle Pre Christmas Thought

If you've read some of my previous posts, you know what a sucker I am for Christmas and my undying penchant to not let Christmas just be for one day a year but for the other 364 days as well.  So, here's a little pre Christmas cheer for us.  And in light of the miraculous discovery of the 3 young women in Cleveland, Ohio yesterday, I can only imagine the joy there families are experiencing.  There is a God!! It's only 230 days away.  Merry Christmas!!

VISION

Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are. 
Niccolò Machiavelli

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love."
~ Washington Irving ~

E.E. Cummings

It May Not Always Be So; And I Say

it may not always be so; and i say

that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch

another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch

his heart,as mine in time not far away;

if on another’s face your sweet hair lay

in such silence as i know,or such

great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,

stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be—

you of my heart,send me a little word;

that i may go unto him,and take his hands,

saying,Accept all happiness from me.

Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird

sing terribly afar in the lost lands

Now I Lay Me Down