MIXING IT UP

It has always been a puzzle to me how people can experience empty nest syndrome. It was a delight to me when my beloved children grew up and eventually left the nest. It is even more of a puzzle why people seem to think that I should be experiencing similar feelings about my little canine guest for the past eight days who left after she healed (after being spayed). Today she finally left to join her adoptive parents and her adoptive brother. The two dogs look so much alike that two plumbers asked today if they were from the same litter or if they are being bred to be that way (in the combination of Rottweiler/Basset Hound). The answer to both these questions is NO.

Apparently this mix in not as rare as one would suppose. One rare breed was a Rottweiler and a Dachshund (with a comment that one dog was standing on a rock)!

Not being a fan of having to clean up other people's messes, the notion of having a dog run my life is quite unattractive. Call me lazy, if you will (and you might as well) because I prefer plants that shed leaves and that do not decay with a bad odor. I can clean up a plant at my leisure, put it on the curb for the trash collectors if I deem that move necessary, but I can't do the same with a loving, gentle animal.

It is odd to be loved more than experiencing such love myself. This little dog soon became velcroed to me whenever we were left alone together in the house. Her body had to be in contact with some part of my own for her to settle down and not be climbing on me. If I got up and moved more than three feet, she was with me even to sniffing any orifice she could point her nose at whenever I needed relief, a change of clothes, or whatever else I tried to do to get any part of my life normalized.

Far from leaving me with empty nest syndrome, I am comforted knowing we have bonded and she will visit me occasionally. Almost half the size of her adoptive brother, Rocco, and in far less perpetual motion, she will be a more welcome visitor to my home than he. One sweep of his tail clears off my entire coffee table. No waste basket survives its contents during a visit from Rocco, who moves like the Tazmanian Devil. Anything that is hanging... towels, dishtowels, hanging stockings, is there to be moved. Anything that isn't nailed down is apt to be found anywhere in the house and, since he cannot talk, one may never know where. In Rocco's world, all things are his toys, and all are chew toys.


Dogs may give unconditional love but I, as an owner, never could give it back. Marching to the beat of my own drum, I cannot see myself marching to the drum of a quadruped no matter how loving it might be. Having changed diapers for too many years of my life as a parent, I cannot see pooper scooping after a dog no matter how much love that beastie may offer me. I guess I have come to realize that craving touch by me is for skin, not hair. Carefully observing where a dog's tongue has been does not find me welcoming being licked anywhere the dog can reach on me. Dogs tongues move faster than an aroused, adolescent boy with the arm speed of an octopus.

With all due respect to dog lovers of the world, I humbly submit I will forever be kind to animals, and will sincerely believe all who say they love their dogs more than any people they have ever known. Sweaty dog smell is as repugnant to me as burning rubber. I unashamedly confess I prefer the love and touch of a man to any dog no matter how little the dog talks back to me or how blindly it obeys me. Once a man can lie down or roll over, he beats any dog for recreation and entertainment!

NO FAVORS FROM THE CHEMICAL INDUSTRY

For many years now we have been aware of the many destructive effects we have endured due to chemical being added to our environment, products, and food. We breath them, ingest them, and touch them. We live with them in us, on us, and around us everywhere. One area which has been spoken about for years due to the hormones cows have been given may be quite destructive. Early menstruation can be a serious problem.

Joshua Zaffos, of Colorado Springs Independent writes that low sperm counts and deformed penises may be the responsibility for the chemical industry. We have watched so many law suits asking to get rid of some of the terror being produced by such things as the Chernobyl nuclear spill.

For a more enlightening look at the entire subject, read this.

REPRISE

Yesterday I wrote about how much I will miss George Carlin. So many others feel as I do. That Op-ed piece was written by Jerry Seinfeld, another man who has made us laugh but never quite as irreverently as George Carlin managed to make us do. Here is a man who contributed more reality perspective to his country as a service, made us laugh at ourselves, and forced us to think out of the box with him.

While Tim Russert was eulogized (and no one ever says a negative thing in a
eulogy) there were many who saw what was less visible to the world. Not every one thought he was a smiling, benign journalist. However, his death makes us face yet another reality. Even when you are doing everything to take care of yourself, it still might not work.

Since I do not believe in a malevolent Higher Power, I do not believe there was retribution in either death. Both were just two more deaths in the life cycle of humans. They just happened to influence and affect more lives than most of us ever achieve.

IN MEMORIAM: GEORGE CARLIN

George Carlin was too young to die by our current actuarial standards. While Tim Russert was eulogized for days and days, I will miss George Carlin most. Tim Russert left a hole in the media water and it will be immediately filled. Carlin leaves so much original material, it will take much longer for him to be replaced on the humor and humane circuit.

George Carlin was a thinker 'outside the box'. He shocked some people and was very clear that the profanity was his spice in his 'stew'. Always frank and addressing truth as he saw it, he gave opinion on religion and many other topics. He could see things as no one else seemed to define them. His monologue on Stuff was hysterically funny and hit so truthfully.

The applause he got should never be forgotten. His Pro-life in Anti-woman monologue is what many people believe but few can say so well. He could add much to any discussion, far more than most of the journalists on TV. For that reason, even Keith Olbermann had him on Countdown and it was a far more interesting show than some of the self-appointed 'pundits' he occasionally has speaking.

I, for one of many, will feel the loss of this man's brilliant mind and his ability to make us hear messages when he wrapped them in humor. Thank you for leaving us your recorded wit. You will never be forgotten.

BIRTHDAYS

As long as birthdays arrive, you know you are alive. That is the best part as you enter the ‘golden years’. They should be named the diamond years because, by then, you are very hard and brittle, not at all as soft and malleable as gold, when heated.

When I was little, a birthday meant acknowledgment by my mother, who clearly had a different experience of my birth than I. The day meant special considerations and presents. As many birthdays passed, the important landmarks of 16, 18, 21, 30, 40 (note the increment in decades now) there was a change. My mother was no longer around to share the day. In those days fathers did not attend births and seemed only to follow mother’s lead when a day or occasion was to be noted since he never retained a clue.

The experience of having a birthday is now totally changed. It is no longer how many years have I lived but, rather, how many more years might I live! Whereas once the body was searched for signs of budding boobs or hair, now the task of finding bras to lift those pendulous hunks of useless flesh is a new goal. Hair that importantly once appeared is now disappearing with the bonus less shaving necessary. The hair making apparatus is now located above my lips and on my chin. My mind boggles to figure what Nature intended there.

The happiest part, however, of these late birthdays, is the many calls, notes, or cards received. That makes all the years of living that preceded worth while, through whatever in life one slogs (and slogging through describes a major portion of my living). To me, there is no greater pleasure in life than to know how many people I care for who return the feelings.

GRACEFUL AGING

There has been little I have found useful that has been written about aging. It is a process that starts at very different chronological times for each of us. Just as 'Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder', so is 'Age reflects how you think and behave.' This said, let me explain what I meant by graceful aging in the title.

Years ago when mini skirts first came out, they looked wonderful on young women with slender bodies. Often, their middle aged mothers who refused to see themselves as pudgy, began to wear them and looked grotesque. Middle aged men began to wear dungarees but did not fill them as fetchingly as slim, athletic, young men.

While we have Senior Olympics and sports, there are too many who try to keep up with all the physical activities of their youth, with frustration their reward. Recently, speaking with a friend whom I have regarded as a Renaissance Man, he told me what he has added to the list of hobby equipment of which he has divested himself. He sold his grand piano when arthritis in his hands made it impossible to play as he wished any longer. However, he has an electronic piano connected to his computer where he can still compose and play. He has rid himself of all his woodworking equipment and wood but had kept his frame making miter as he now does more oil painting. He used to have metal lathes and other tools for his clock repairing. When he developed enough of a tremor to make the results less than his standard, he sold all that, too. While his driving has become limited to necessity shopping and hospital trips and he can no longer climb the stairs easily to get to the jazz venues he loved so much, he contents himself with recordings.

Graceful aging is the ability to live in the reality of one's physical and mental capacities. No chronology can be put on this since it varies so much for everyone. Thus, graceful aging centers on one's ability to adapt to their own reality. Our human ability to sublimate was a gift of Nature to allow us to adapt. We read about the adventures of those with youth and strength. The Internet has given us the ability to travel anywhere in the world without leaving our homes. We can see great paintings and inside many museums; statues and wonders of the world and there for us to view; learn about other cultures, news of the world; and we can vicariously ski board down steep peaks via YouTube. We can catapult, or hear about our politics from people unafraid of telling it like it is. We can even see places that we wouldn't personally want to go to. How wonderful it is to live in this period of time and place when we do not have to go out alone to freeze on an ice float when we can no longer prevent being a burden to our family. Those of us lucky enough to have loving families who help allow us to stay as independent for as long as possible, make some of those difficult years of raising them less painful in retrospect. But, while we no longer need offspring to carry on the farm or business, we were setting up systems to care for our elderly until our current Administration decided elder care need not take precedence over greed, thus the rebuilding of Iraq is more important than a domestic budget to offer medical care to all and the ability to grow old gracefully rather than disgracefully.

WORDS AND CONCEPTS

We live with a strange language. We call it English, but the English call it American. That there is a real difference in pronunciation cannot be denied. Whether the vocabulary is different is less obvious, in our international day of communications. However, that our words are confusing can leave no doubt in anyone’s mind.

In a crossword puzzle I was doing, the word was ‘scale’ called for a five letter word. To me the natural association was the weighing machine. Wrong! The answer was climb. And so it goes. A four letter word for sewer had me ready to toss in the towel for lack of the proper language for water conduits. It turned out to be ‘Ross’ as in Betsy Ross, indeed a great American sewer!

Pronunciation to those who don’t know the language must be equally difficult to comprehend. Why does the ‘u’ change sound in ‘put’ and ‘putt’, but not in ‘but’ and ‘butt’? Why, in fact, when a butt is 'head-on’ does it also refer to the human rear? These ar, indeed, ponderous thoughts when your head seeks answers constantly to all the questions no one else think to ask....or answer!

How do we come to call the offspring of our children ‘grand’ when we would scarcely have referred to their parents as such. Why are we interchangeably referred to the children of our nieces and nephews as ‘great’ or ‘grand’ aunt? Why are some relatives ‘once removed’ when they are still hanging around?

These questions are as profound to me as the mutual use of Hope and Change when spoken by Obama or McCain. What can they mean if what they propose in their respective platforms is truly intended? Are Hope and Change truly such ambiguous words that people give them their own definition? We accepted Bush’s promise to bring morality back to the White House but, though he didn’t display sexual immorality, he lied and caused the deaths, poverty and suffering of thousands of people (actually millions). Yet there are those who do not accept this obvious inequality of offense and are still unable to let go the brainwashing offered as to the sins of Clinton versus the sins of Bush. Are our choices to come down to Obfuscation versus Results? The future of America is certainly not clear, is it?