some people say that eskimoes have 52 different words for snow. it's a matter of opinion, debate, and legend but i like the idea of it.
i like the idea that i can express one feeling with more words than one, depending on the circumstance, the recipient, my mood. how perfectly freeing it is to choose just the right combination of letters coming together to help me say what i need to say.
there was a homeless man on the parkway today. he was sitting on his backpack in the snow, and his hands were shaking as they gripped a sloppy piece of cardboard that said "hungry homeless vet please help". we pulled around the corner and i rolled my window down to call him over but he was weak and feeble and had trouble getting up, so i jumped out of the car and handed him two dollars. i always give them what i can and didn't use to believe it helped much, but an article in last week's citypages turned me upside down on that one. every penny counts.
his face quivered and his glasses got a little foggy and with a toothless expression he looked me right in the eye and with all his heart said
thank you, thank you so much, god bless you.
and i said god bless you, too.
the right words to say,
though i was sad to hear and say them.
as we pulled away we saw in the rearview mirror that someone else had stopped also, and maybe he got another dollar.
i could hear him say the same thing
thank you and god bless you
and i knew that 4 dollars might last him a week if all goes well.
4 dollars can last a week,
words last forever.
peace.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
sometimes you have to get out and push
there was a blizzard in january of 1981 that shut down the u of m for the first time in 20 years. the snow was 2 feet deep and i was 16 blocks from home. every step was a high step, no sidewalks were shoveled and no streets plowed. i sweated into my scalp and the scarf around my neck and froze my nose and toes at the same time.
when i finally got home i found out i needed to trudge back up to dinkytown to pick up a prescription at grey's drugstore. i turned around and waded 16 blocks back and then 16 blocks forward and finally i was home.
it was a third floor apartment in an old brownstone with a gorgeous view of the world, and it was especially perfect on a night like this - snow swirling around streetlights, cars tiptoeing down southeast 4th street.
best of all it had a great big claw foot tub and i loved that tub. that night i filled it full and hot. i had plenty of bubbles and a cold martini,and a black and white tv featuring a great espisode of m*a*s*h. i sunk into that tub glad the trudging was over, munching on a gin soaked olive and feeling grateful for rest and soothing gentle bathtub waves.
twenty seven years later it is thanksgiving eve and the pies are done. so is the cranberry sauce and
all is well.
we've been trudging for a long time. illness and death, broken hearts, nursing homes and broken bones, so many funerals, too many good byes. surgery all around, sign up now. keep going, just keep going.
mike's dad, who grew up in deep snow used to tell us
"kids, sometimes you just have to get out and push."
we've been pushing. pushing hard and worrying just because there was nothing else productive to do.
the pushing and pulling and breaking is done for now, and we are so grateful as we sit here sniffing those pies.
storms pass and snow melts and cars start.
ya gotta believe, right?
happy thanksgiving
when i finally got home i found out i needed to trudge back up to dinkytown to pick up a prescription at grey's drugstore. i turned around and waded 16 blocks back and then 16 blocks forward and finally i was home.
it was a third floor apartment in an old brownstone with a gorgeous view of the world, and it was especially perfect on a night like this - snow swirling around streetlights, cars tiptoeing down southeast 4th street.
best of all it had a great big claw foot tub and i loved that tub. that night i filled it full and hot. i had plenty of bubbles and a cold martini,and a black and white tv featuring a great espisode of m*a*s*h. i sunk into that tub glad the trudging was over, munching on a gin soaked olive and feeling grateful for rest and soothing gentle bathtub waves.
twenty seven years later it is thanksgiving eve and the pies are done. so is the cranberry sauce and
all is well.
we've been trudging for a long time. illness and death, broken hearts, nursing homes and broken bones, so many funerals, too many good byes. surgery all around, sign up now. keep going, just keep going.
mike's dad, who grew up in deep snow used to tell us
"kids, sometimes you just have to get out and push."
we've been pushing. pushing hard and worrying just because there was nothing else productive to do.
the pushing and pulling and breaking is done for now, and we are so grateful as we sit here sniffing those pies.
storms pass and snow melts and cars start.
ya gotta believe, right?
happy thanksgiving
Monday, November 24, 2008
a piano in the woods
last weekend a woman was taking a long walk in the woods near cape cod when she came across a piano. in perfect condition and tune, the piano sat in a clearing near a footbridge, a matching bench placed carefully next to it as if someone had just played it, or was about to.
the mysterious placement of this piano has confounded police -- they can't figure out how it got there, and the fact that it took 6 strong men and a truck to remove it adds to the mystery. no footprints, no tire tracks, no broken keys or smudged wood. but there it sat. waiting to be discovered,
or not.
when was the last time a pleasant and unexpected surprise appeared in your path? walking towards nothing you find something. something that doesn't fit with where you are or what you are thinking about, but there it is, waiting for you just the same.
and when you find it you take a deep breath, smile and wonder...
when a piano sits alone in the woods, does it make a sound?
when a wish sits alone in the deepest part of your heart,
will you hear it
when it plays?
and who will play it?
you. after all, it was yours to find.
don't walk away.
the mysterious placement of this piano has confounded police -- they can't figure out how it got there, and the fact that it took 6 strong men and a truck to remove it adds to the mystery. no footprints, no tire tracks, no broken keys or smudged wood. but there it sat. waiting to be discovered,
or not.
when was the last time a pleasant and unexpected surprise appeared in your path? walking towards nothing you find something. something that doesn't fit with where you are or what you are thinking about, but there it is, waiting for you just the same.
and when you find it you take a deep breath, smile and wonder...
when a piano sits alone in the woods, does it make a sound?
when a wish sits alone in the deepest part of your heart,
will you hear it
when it plays?
and who will play it?
you. after all, it was yours to find.
don't walk away.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
you've got mail. but not all of it
not that i am obsessed with mail carriers, but a delightful story caught my eye this morning about a mailman who refused to deliver junk mail for the past 7 years. it was excessive and heavy, and he had diabetes and a heart condition. so he lightened his load and protected the nice folks on his route from circulars advertising oil changes, chinese food, pizza, and neighborhood grocers. he stacked it all in his garage and on occasion buried his stash in his backyard.
a federal offense. lucy ricardo noted the same thing this morning when nosy ethel read the ricardo's mail. that's just wrong! until a letter from the war department came addressed to ricky and lucy just had to read it but that is another story entirely.
when mr. mailman got busted, not one customer complained. in fact, they cheered. they wrote glowing letters on his behalf, offered to pay fines, celebrated his decision not to deliver stuff they would throw away anyway. they said he should get a medal, not a jail sentence. he could have gotten 5 years in jail and a $250,000.00 fine, but the judge gave him probation and a much smaller fine and off he went.
the law is a funny thing. it is meant to protect our rights and ensure justice, but sometimes it has a narrow mind of it's own that angers me in its inflexibility and stubbornness. a mailman does something that is illegal but appreicated none-the-less. the woman who has been stealing stuff from my neighbors was released on a technicality. and most offensive of all -- two people of the same gender who love each other with all the desperation and joy of heterosexual love can't get married because, well,
it is against the law.
how stupid is that. americans glue themselves to the television to see which inarticulate bachelorette will be given a rose, but true love in some cases is not to be recognized with the same rights and benefits of contestants on a reality show.
anyway, good for you mr. mailman.
sorry the neighborhood grocer is mad at you.
a federal offense. lucy ricardo noted the same thing this morning when nosy ethel read the ricardo's mail. that's just wrong! until a letter from the war department came addressed to ricky and lucy just had to read it but that is another story entirely.
when mr. mailman got busted, not one customer complained. in fact, they cheered. they wrote glowing letters on his behalf, offered to pay fines, celebrated his decision not to deliver stuff they would throw away anyway. they said he should get a medal, not a jail sentence. he could have gotten 5 years in jail and a $250,000.00 fine, but the judge gave him probation and a much smaller fine and off he went.
the law is a funny thing. it is meant to protect our rights and ensure justice, but sometimes it has a narrow mind of it's own that angers me in its inflexibility and stubbornness. a mailman does something that is illegal but appreicated none-the-less. the woman who has been stealing stuff from my neighbors was released on a technicality. and most offensive of all -- two people of the same gender who love each other with all the desperation and joy of heterosexual love can't get married because, well,
it is against the law.
how stupid is that. americans glue themselves to the television to see which inarticulate bachelorette will be given a rose, but true love in some cases is not to be recognized with the same rights and benefits of contestants on a reality show.
anyway, good for you mr. mailman.
sorry the neighborhood grocer is mad at you.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
taking the fall
i had a conversation today with 30 extraordinary people who have been identified as high potential leaders in state government. every month i spend two days with them, and continue to be amazed and inspired by their commitment to make a difference in the lives of all minnesotans.
one of their homework assignments each month is to interview a respected leader and to report back on what they learned.
one person interviewed her rabbi, and what struck her most about this fascinating woman was her theory on the importance of taking a fall, even when it isn't yours to take. rabbi pointed out that when things go wrong, we as humans are quick to assign blame so as to get on with things.
but sometimes our intent is darker than that.
sometimes we toss blame and point fingers to safeguard our own sense of self and to avoid sleepless nights and potential danger.
it wasn't me, it was he, it was she. what a shame that someone else screwed up. really surprising.
that is wrong, rabbi said.
the right thing to do is step up, own it whether it is yours or not, and leave people to get on with their work. most people can't seem to get on with things if they can't point to the source of the mistake or conflict. thus, we swirl around in circles of anger and paranoia and get stuck in the muddy trenches of deceipt, invisible bloody knives pounded squarely into the backs of our colleagues and former friends.
leadership is about doing the right thing. it is about having such a deep faith in the mission that you are willing to fall on a sword that was thrown by someone else, call it your own, and allow people to get on with things.
my fault, my bad. ok?
now let's get back to work.
one of their homework assignments each month is to interview a respected leader and to report back on what they learned.
one person interviewed her rabbi, and what struck her most about this fascinating woman was her theory on the importance of taking a fall, even when it isn't yours to take. rabbi pointed out that when things go wrong, we as humans are quick to assign blame so as to get on with things.
but sometimes our intent is darker than that.
sometimes we toss blame and point fingers to safeguard our own sense of self and to avoid sleepless nights and potential danger.
it wasn't me, it was he, it was she. what a shame that someone else screwed up. really surprising.
that is wrong, rabbi said.
the right thing to do is step up, own it whether it is yours or not, and leave people to get on with their work. most people can't seem to get on with things if they can't point to the source of the mistake or conflict. thus, we swirl around in circles of anger and paranoia and get stuck in the muddy trenches of deceipt, invisible bloody knives pounded squarely into the backs of our colleagues and former friends.
leadership is about doing the right thing. it is about having such a deep faith in the mission that you are willing to fall on a sword that was thrown by someone else, call it your own, and allow people to get on with things.
my fault, my bad. ok?
now let's get back to work.
Monday, November 17, 2008
bad day monday
i've been up since 3 this morning tossing and turning with a malady i won't name. i prodded into work looking like hell and found my keycard to enter the building wasn't working, and i should have taken that as a sign.
things went downhill from there. i lost things and stumbled, ruined everything i touched, was told i looked awful and worst of all my cute new red wallet broke.
they say this too shall pass and i know it will. tomorrow will be better but in the meantime...
recovering from a bad day is like cleaning up after a storm. it is wearisome. the skies are quiet again but you can see the damage that was done, and you feel devastated by the work in front of you. it tires you just to approach it. but you dig in and sometimes neighbors help and at some point you recognize not that which was normal, because it never will be the same again, but you face and recognize the new normal and try to get some sleep.
maybe it wasn't that bad, my monday, compared to others who have challenges a million times sadder than an expired key card.
but today is today for a few more hours, and it is all mine to consider and decide how to feel about it.
in any case
i guess i am just glad to have another go at it
tomorrow.
things went downhill from there. i lost things and stumbled, ruined everything i touched, was told i looked awful and worst of all my cute new red wallet broke.
they say this too shall pass and i know it will. tomorrow will be better but in the meantime...
recovering from a bad day is like cleaning up after a storm. it is wearisome. the skies are quiet again but you can see the damage that was done, and you feel devastated by the work in front of you. it tires you just to approach it. but you dig in and sometimes neighbors help and at some point you recognize not that which was normal, because it never will be the same again, but you face and recognize the new normal and try to get some sleep.
maybe it wasn't that bad, my monday, compared to others who have challenges a million times sadder than an expired key card.
but today is today for a few more hours, and it is all mine to consider and decide how to feel about it.
in any case
i guess i am just glad to have another go at it
tomorrow.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
the tears don't stop
sometime next spring i am planning a pilgrimage to my hometown. barrington, rhode island is where we landed in 1962, after my dad retired from the navy and mom was ready to take center stage again.
mom was a star at barrington college, and dad was the retired navy man who came in as superintendent of buildings and grounds but after a few years was the campus security manager. i saw him go off to work in green janitor clothes when i was 3, but when i was 14 he was wearing suits and ties when he dropped me off at school each morning.
in the early 70's dad was forced out, but he perservered and got a job as the executive director of the warren housing authority. he built an apartment complex for seniors, and was affectionately known as "the commander". he worked with the architechts, designers and craftsmen, reviewed applications for residence, changed lightbulbs and planted bushes himself. everyone loved the commander.
he had a beautiful secretary named ann and she looked like sophia loren and audrey hepburn and they loved each other in the lovely way that workplace partners do. respect and awe, the freedom to give opinions, an offer of a hot cup of coffee, a solid "good morning" and "good night" every day for so many years.
so i am planning this trip and i googled "kickemuit village", the place that dad built, and who's name should appear as current executive director
after more than 30 years
ann.
then i thought about dad, my precious dad, and how much after all these years i miss him. i still cry but not in the desperate way i used to. now the tears just come when i think about his blue shining eyes and funny laugh, and the tears just come and come.
they don't ever stop, those tears, they are just different.
but bless her -- ann is still there, steering that ship after 30 years.
when i visit in april,
i think i'll look her up.
miss you, dad.
mom was a star at barrington college, and dad was the retired navy man who came in as superintendent of buildings and grounds but after a few years was the campus security manager. i saw him go off to work in green janitor clothes when i was 3, but when i was 14 he was wearing suits and ties when he dropped me off at school each morning.
in the early 70's dad was forced out, but he perservered and got a job as the executive director of the warren housing authority. he built an apartment complex for seniors, and was affectionately known as "the commander". he worked with the architechts, designers and craftsmen, reviewed applications for residence, changed lightbulbs and planted bushes himself. everyone loved the commander.
he had a beautiful secretary named ann and she looked like sophia loren and audrey hepburn and they loved each other in the lovely way that workplace partners do. respect and awe, the freedom to give opinions, an offer of a hot cup of coffee, a solid "good morning" and "good night" every day for so many years.
so i am planning this trip and i googled "kickemuit village", the place that dad built, and who's name should appear as current executive director
after more than 30 years
ann.
then i thought about dad, my precious dad, and how much after all these years i miss him. i still cry but not in the desperate way i used to. now the tears just come when i think about his blue shining eyes and funny laugh, and the tears just come and come.
they don't ever stop, those tears, they are just different.
but bless her -- ann is still there, steering that ship after 30 years.
when i visit in april,
i think i'll look her up.
miss you, dad.
Friday, November 14, 2008
love's embrace
i read a story on the internet today about a man in washington who saved an eagle with two broken wings. he nursed her back to life, often willing her to live, as she was weak and sad with a flatness in her eyes that told of her pain. she came around eventually, and two became great friends.
after a miraculous recovery from cancer, the fellow took the eagle out for a walk on her teather, and she spread her wings and put them around him, pushing hard into his back. she has done it with others as well, one man who was terminally ill, and all report feeling an amazing power surging through them when enfolded in eagle's wings.
i've never hugged an eagle but i know that feeling. arms around you strong and soft at the same time, the love from one coursing into the veins and heart and spirit of the other.
the essence of all healing
love's embrace.
after a miraculous recovery from cancer, the fellow took the eagle out for a walk on her teather, and she spread her wings and put them around him, pushing hard into his back. she has done it with others as well, one man who was terminally ill, and all report feeling an amazing power surging through them when enfolded in eagle's wings.
i've never hugged an eagle but i know that feeling. arms around you strong and soft at the same time, the love from one coursing into the veins and heart and spirit of the other.
the essence of all healing
love's embrace.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
after 50
i learned today that many people seem to relax in a more profound way once they reach the age of 50. seems that once you get there, you no longer feel like you need to make a mark, leave an impression, or prove anything. having crossed over to the second part of life, you find it easier to let go and just be. certainly this is true for boomers - as a hallmark of our generation is our need to have an impact, make a difference. i wonder if this theory will prove strong with xer's and millenials, and only time will tell.
it is such a comforting thought, to feel settled, self-actualized, less stressed about what to do and be, and to enjoy the ride the rest of the way.
a comforting thought i do not have.
at 49 i'm still trying to figure it out. typical of those in my age group, it is important to me, too, to do and to be all i was meant for, and i wish i could say i've achieved it, but the struggle of the search continues. there is something in there that needs expression, needs to be shared, needs to come out, but damned if i know what it is.
but i'm still only 49.
4 months left to figure it out, and become one with the statistics of my generation.
go!
it is such a comforting thought, to feel settled, self-actualized, less stressed about what to do and be, and to enjoy the ride the rest of the way.
a comforting thought i do not have.
at 49 i'm still trying to figure it out. typical of those in my age group, it is important to me, too, to do and to be all i was meant for, and i wish i could say i've achieved it, but the struggle of the search continues. there is something in there that needs expression, needs to be shared, needs to come out, but damned if i know what it is.
but i'm still only 49.
4 months left to figure it out, and become one with the statistics of my generation.
go!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
get well soon
seems to me the more we go to the doctor the sicker we feel. your enzymes and blood pressure are too high, you've got lumps and bumps in places your shouldn't, and what's up with that freckle? we'd better make another appointment for a month from now so you have plenty of time to work yourself into an incoherent and terrified wreck and that's why we can't see you sooner.
and then you come on back and we'll cut and dig, scrape and remove, take photos and use lots of plastic. and then we'll smile and tell you that you did great! and hopefully everything is fine, we'll let you know in a few days, so it's ok to keep on worrying if that is what you need to do. meanwhile eat more fiber, take some folate, don't drink and exercise every day for a really long time.
didn't people used to live to ripe ages like 75 or more having never heard of folate? who invented cholesterol anyway? this afternoon i'm missing dear old friends and relatives who lived long lives, worked hard, laughed harder, drank to their fill and smoked 'em if they had 'em. and they didn't worry much. nothing was in place to scare them to death in those days. eventually something came along and got them, but up till then they lived how they lived and that was that. all in god's plan.
meanwhile as you are watching tv in the middle of the night next time you are worrying about your own mortality and whether your insurance will get you through the next abnoral finding, just remember that
sleep deprivation can be deadly, too.
and then you come on back and we'll cut and dig, scrape and remove, take photos and use lots of plastic. and then we'll smile and tell you that you did great! and hopefully everything is fine, we'll let you know in a few days, so it's ok to keep on worrying if that is what you need to do. meanwhile eat more fiber, take some folate, don't drink and exercise every day for a really long time.
didn't people used to live to ripe ages like 75 or more having never heard of folate? who invented cholesterol anyway? this afternoon i'm missing dear old friends and relatives who lived long lives, worked hard, laughed harder, drank to their fill and smoked 'em if they had 'em. and they didn't worry much. nothing was in place to scare them to death in those days. eventually something came along and got them, but up till then they lived how they lived and that was that. all in god's plan.
meanwhile as you are watching tv in the middle of the night next time you are worrying about your own mortality and whether your insurance will get you through the next abnoral finding, just remember that
sleep deprivation can be deadly, too.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
creating comfort
sphinx is a tiny old white cat, with boney hips and a runny nose. if he were a little human boy he would be the one with tape around his glasses and ink stains on his shirt pocket. i'm beginning to think he is also part parrot, as when we are watching tv in bed together he always sits on my shoulder.
this morning he was bugging me just a little. my right shoulder was sore for some reason and i didn't want him perched there. i asked politely if he would please move -- several times -- which he did, but he knew he could sneak back if he was patient and quiet, and maybe this time i wouldn't notice.
i noticed. finally he agreed and opted for the pillow next to me, the one that was propped up at a steep slant against several others. seeming in defiance of gravity, he snuggled up almost vertically on the slope of that pillow, never slipping or sliding, only sleeping.
the other two cats who live here are also insistent on comfortable places to snooze, but aren't picky about the venue. i can certainly understand curling up in a basket of fresh warm laundry, or on the towel shelf in the linen closet, but on top a 6 pack of gingerale? or a cordless drill? or a cold iron? these are the things that are sometimes left on the corner chair on the backporch, a favorite nesting place for all. it has a soft cushion under there someplace and a perfect view of the birdfeeders out back. a favorite spot. they don't seem to mind or care if some thing was tossed and left there - that is where they want to be and so they will be there.
we all can choose where we want to be, and sometimes there are things in our way that we need to either ignore or work around. maybe the barriers will vanish on their own and maybe not.
but if we truly want that spot,
we will snuggle down regardless, knowing it is where we need to be.
i think they call that faith.
this morning he was bugging me just a little. my right shoulder was sore for some reason and i didn't want him perched there. i asked politely if he would please move -- several times -- which he did, but he knew he could sneak back if he was patient and quiet, and maybe this time i wouldn't notice.
i noticed. finally he agreed and opted for the pillow next to me, the one that was propped up at a steep slant against several others. seeming in defiance of gravity, he snuggled up almost vertically on the slope of that pillow, never slipping or sliding, only sleeping.
the other two cats who live here are also insistent on comfortable places to snooze, but aren't picky about the venue. i can certainly understand curling up in a basket of fresh warm laundry, or on the towel shelf in the linen closet, but on top a 6 pack of gingerale? or a cordless drill? or a cold iron? these are the things that are sometimes left on the corner chair on the backporch, a favorite nesting place for all. it has a soft cushion under there someplace and a perfect view of the birdfeeders out back. a favorite spot. they don't seem to mind or care if some thing was tossed and left there - that is where they want to be and so they will be there.
we all can choose where we want to be, and sometimes there are things in our way that we need to either ignore or work around. maybe the barriers will vanish on their own and maybe not.
but if we truly want that spot,
we will snuggle down regardless, knowing it is where we need to be.
i think they call that faith.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
dragonfly love
she's a like a dragonfly, he said. she never lands. she makes love in the air but she never lands.
we sat in the garden on a perfect fall afternoon, leaves from the grapevine stunning shades of gold over our heads, talking about love lost and found. our friends inside were laughing over eggbake and mountains of fruit, hot coffee and bloody marys. salad with apples and walnuts, bread with butter and brie.
these people, my friends, we have all been dragonflies at one point or another. what an odd start we had in that dark little theater with the garage floors and spooky wiring. some of best moments of all our lives were spent under those lights, surprising the audience as much as we surprised each other and ourselves.
through these years we've each taken off and landed, sometimes posing in mid air to make love or stop short for whatever life had to teach us in that select moment of hovering.
today we hovered around kevin's table and ate chocolate cake and pumpkin pie, catching up on babies born and the ones soon due, on how the surgery went and what the score was. and we checked out the new guy, too.
for this afternoon we all hovered, knowing if we haven't landed yet,
we will soon.
we sat in the garden on a perfect fall afternoon, leaves from the grapevine stunning shades of gold over our heads, talking about love lost and found. our friends inside were laughing over eggbake and mountains of fruit, hot coffee and bloody marys. salad with apples and walnuts, bread with butter and brie.
these people, my friends, we have all been dragonflies at one point or another. what an odd start we had in that dark little theater with the garage floors and spooky wiring. some of best moments of all our lives were spent under those lights, surprising the audience as much as we surprised each other and ourselves.
through these years we've each taken off and landed, sometimes posing in mid air to make love or stop short for whatever life had to teach us in that select moment of hovering.
today we hovered around kevin's table and ate chocolate cake and pumpkin pie, catching up on babies born and the ones soon due, on how the surgery went and what the score was. and we checked out the new guy, too.
for this afternoon we all hovered, knowing if we haven't landed yet,
we will soon.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
ask a mailman
chapman is a long and tall standard poodle, black with a little salt. we met him when we saw him wandering up the parkway all by himself. not right. mike pulled over and i jumped out of the car and greeted him. lovely so lovely, with a fresh pedicure and perfectly groomed coat. so soft you could lose your hands in him. a good dog. a good dog who smelled like bubbles. a good dog with a blue collar and no tags.
we were worried about him, so we invited him to "go for a ride?!?!?!", which delighted him. a moment later he was lounging on the backseat of the explorer, sometimes sticking his head out the window, but mostly lounging.
we drove around and around and asked everyone we saw -- "do you know this dog?" no one did. finally mike spotted a mailman and made a quick u-turn to meet him square in front of a house in 32nd avenue.
excuse us sir, might you know this dog from your route?
why that's chapman -- hey boy! lives at 54th and parkway - 5409.
sure enough, chapman jumped out of the car at 5409 and we rang the bell, dad came out and rubbed his head.
second time he has escaped today. thanks for finding him guys.
they know everything about our lives, those public servants. they know our names and our dogs names, and where our christmas gifts are coming from and what magazines we like to read. they recognize the patterns of life as they turn up in the u.s. mail. they know that they are bringing you birthday wishes when two cards arrive for you in a certain month every year. they know that when cards show up addressed to "the family of" that you have lost someone. they keep these details private as they walk up and down our streets every day, but they know.
they know so much about us,
what do we know about them?
my guy,
his name is jeff.
we were worried about him, so we invited him to "go for a ride?!?!?!", which delighted him. a moment later he was lounging on the backseat of the explorer, sometimes sticking his head out the window, but mostly lounging.
we drove around and around and asked everyone we saw -- "do you know this dog?" no one did. finally mike spotted a mailman and made a quick u-turn to meet him square in front of a house in 32nd avenue.
excuse us sir, might you know this dog from your route?
why that's chapman -- hey boy! lives at 54th and parkway - 5409.
sure enough, chapman jumped out of the car at 5409 and we rang the bell, dad came out and rubbed his head.
second time he has escaped today. thanks for finding him guys.
they know everything about our lives, those public servants. they know our names and our dogs names, and where our christmas gifts are coming from and what magazines we like to read. they recognize the patterns of life as they turn up in the u.s. mail. they know that they are bringing you birthday wishes when two cards arrive for you in a certain month every year. they know that when cards show up addressed to "the family of" that you have lost someone. they keep these details private as they walk up and down our streets every day, but they know.
they know so much about us,
what do we know about them?
my guy,
his name is jeff.
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