Wow! For whatever reason it appears that the number of visits to this blog has spiked of late. I've no clue as to why that may be, so I guess that less attention should be paid to my Flickr account and more time spent writing.
Despite all the bullshit I've had to deal with lately, I'm in a good mood. My braces have been a mixed blessing, as I've lost around 10-15 pounds (it fluctuates) since they were put on. On the flip side, I've had two of the brackets come off in the past few weeks. One of my faculty members has been dismissed for engaging in ill-advised bad behavior. This past weekend I had the displeasure of going to an Easter Egg Hunt featuring some big prizes, such as a PS3 and a Nintendo Wii, and rude people, kids and adults alike. When the horn started the hunt the kids starting pushing and shoving in an attempt to find the eggs bearing the certificates for the major prizes. In the area set aside for small children, parents were able to accompany their kids. My wife kept an eye on our friend's daughter. At one point, two parents, in their over zealous attempts to get as many eggs as possible, crushed this little girl between their generous, corn-fed buttocks when they bent over. It was like swimming at the Great Barrier Reef as your friends throw bloodied fish heads into the water around you.
But it's all good. In a couple of months I'm going home for a visit. Sure, I've called Georgia home for the past 33 years, but I'm from Long Island, New York. And soon I'll be back there for my first visit home in 30 years, and only my second visit since my family moved away. And now this time I'll be bringing my own family along with me. For the longest time my daughter has wanted to go to New York, as she's heard me say so much about it and wanted to see the places where I spent the early part of my childhood. She also motivated by my aunt who has already stated that she'd love to take my daughter out for a day of shopping, and nothing gets my daughter motivated like a shopping spree (and she's only 8!!).
The underlying reason for the trip is simple: the high school my grandfather played football for in the 1930s gives an award out in his name each year at their athletic association's annual banquet. It's the last and most prestigious award (their words, not mine) given out and is apparently quite coveted. My aunt has invited me up the past couple of years to attend the banquet, but scheduled family vacations have interfered with the dates. Not this time; I emailed the school's athletic direction last September to inquire when the banquet was this time, so I made sure I had cleared the calender so I could go.
My airfare has been taken care of, and I'm looking forward to flying up there. My brain has been damaged by trying to think of all the things I want the family to do and see while we're up there (and I'm hoping a week long trip will be enough time). Mandatory agenda items include visiting my old neighborhood, the elementary school I went to, see the park where the school I attended kindergarten used to stand (it's now a park but the clubhouse has pictures of the old building), and going to the cemeteries where my grandparents are buried. Things I hope to do are head to the NY Islanders store in the Broadway Mall, take the family into Manhattan of a day, and go to Modells and buy a replica Brooklyn Dodgers cap.
You can't go home again, so the saying goes. And I'm sure this upcoming trip will affirm my belief that New York is a fine place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Life in Georgia really sets well with me. While I'm looking forward to the trip, I do not relish the prospect of eating at restaurants that don't serve sweet tea--those uncultured barbarians!
On a journey to the heart of darkness and futility.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Letting go
Yesterday I had the most unpleasant task for a pet owner, that being making the decision to put down a suffering animal. My dog Zachary had been in my family since December of 1992, an addition to the household after losing two dogs the year prior. A few minutes before midnight on New Years Eve 1991, the dog I had had for almost 16 years died. I gave myself a few months to get over that loss before getting another dog. That dog died at the beginning of December 1992 when he went for a neutering procedure. An allergic reaction, according to the vet, though I still suspect that they gave him the wrong dosage of Pentathol. The next night I brought Zachary home.
I could describe Zachary in one word: spoiled. But he was also loved. For fifteen years he was around during a multitude of landmarks in my life, and he often shared in those events. He quickly warmed up to my infant daughter at their first meeting. Zachary had spent much of the past ten years with my mom, my wife having a bunch of cats when we moved in together. Zach and cats were an ill-advised combination. Even as the years passed, he behaved like he was a puppy. That is until recently.
The last time I saw him a couple of weeks ago he was not his usual, vibrant self. He was very low key, very subdued. I didn't think much of it at the time. This past Saturday morning he crashed, not being able to walk or even stand. My mom took him to the vet where the initial tests showed is liver enzymes were really elevated, into the range that's considered irreversible. The vet suggested a weekend of fluids and medication and see how he was feeling come Monday. Yesterday morning came and his condition had worsened.
I got a phone call from my sister about 9:30 yesterday morning apprising me of the situation. It wasn't a hard decision to make from a practical perspective; the odds of him making a recovery were very remote, and he was clearly suffering. Making the decision to let him go was hard, but I loved him enough to make that decision and put an end to his misery.
Initially I had decided to let the vets office handle his remains, but I reconsidered. As his owner, his playmate, his chew toy, and purveyor of belly rubs, I owed it to him to bring him home. And that I did. He now rests in the shade of a dogwood tree in my backyard. He's home now, right where he needs to be, my reward to him for 15 years of loyalty and friendship.
I could describe Zachary in one word: spoiled. But he was also loved. For fifteen years he was around during a multitude of landmarks in my life, and he often shared in those events. He quickly warmed up to my infant daughter at their first meeting. Zachary had spent much of the past ten years with my mom, my wife having a bunch of cats when we moved in together. Zach and cats were an ill-advised combination. Even as the years passed, he behaved like he was a puppy. That is until recently.
The last time I saw him a couple of weeks ago he was not his usual, vibrant self. He was very low key, very subdued. I didn't think much of it at the time. This past Saturday morning he crashed, not being able to walk or even stand. My mom took him to the vet where the initial tests showed is liver enzymes were really elevated, into the range that's considered irreversible. The vet suggested a weekend of fluids and medication and see how he was feeling come Monday. Yesterday morning came and his condition had worsened.
I got a phone call from my sister about 9:30 yesterday morning apprising me of the situation. It wasn't a hard decision to make from a practical perspective; the odds of him making a recovery were very remote, and he was clearly suffering. Making the decision to let him go was hard, but I loved him enough to make that decision and put an end to his misery.
Initially I had decided to let the vets office handle his remains, but I reconsidered. As his owner, his playmate, his chew toy, and purveyor of belly rubs, I owed it to him to bring him home. And that I did. He now rests in the shade of a dogwood tree in my backyard. He's home now, right where he needs to be, my reward to him for 15 years of loyalty and friendship.
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