A Happy Tail

On Saturday we dropped Oscar off with his “forever family.” What a happy ending for the little dog with a big spirit. At times I wondered if this doggie experiment was really going to work. I wondered if we were really fostering a dog, or if we had taken a dog who would eventually become ours by default.

The truth is, I think we all learned and grew from this experience. My family and I opened our home to a stranger, and made him feel loved and welcome. Yes, it was more work, especially for me. But I got creative, like figuring out how to tie two leashes together and actually get the pups to walk side-by-side so as not to get completely wound-up and tangled by them – sounds easier then it really was. Big J, in the end, may have learned to have a little faith in my crazy schemes. And, he had to be especially tender with Oscar, because the pup was the most afraid of him – we assume some man had been abusive in the past. The kids, in addition to spending afternoons training and playing with Oscar, learned to love and then let go. I was worried we’d all become too attached to Oscar, but as it turns out, I was the one welling up as we drove home without him. The kids had to remind me of how happy and excited we were the day Oscar came to our home, and how his new family was feeling the same. Bottom line is that we all knew Oscar was where he was meant to be.

Oscar was only in our lives for two months, but that’s two months he didn’t have to live in a crate at a kennel. And now, we definitely miss him. He was a wise little pup, with caramel colored eyes that could melt your heart. He was as cuddly as a cat, loved people of all ages and he kept our dog, Indy, entertained for hours. We were a nice transition family for Oscar, and I think we helped him learn how to trust humans again.

So do I recommend fostering a dog and would I do it again? Would I invite a strange dog to come live with us until he or she found a forever home? Without a doubt. We all do what we can to make the world a better place. At different times in our lives our gestures may be large or small. For us, we started with a little dog named Oscar. Welcome home, sweet Oscar.

If you want to foster a dog, contact Great Dog Rescue New England.

American Spirit

My husband went to vote last Friday since he knew he'd be away on Election Day. He went down to Abbot Hall, Marblehead's town hall, which was constructed in 1870. The town clerk mentioned that Big J could fill out his ballot across the hall, if he wanted privacy. Big J entered the meeting room across the hall and found himself in the presence of American history. The famous painting, Spirit of '76, by Marblehead artist Archibald MacNeal Willard, is housed in this room. In addition to this famous painting, there is an oil painting of Washington crossing the Delaware with men from Glover's Regiment of Marblehead. Big J told me that as he filled out his ballot, suddenly all the knit-picky details about the election fell away. The negative sound bytes, the political jockeying, the fear, the ulterior motives -- all of it-- faded into the background of what it means to be an American and what a privilege it is to vote. This election brought us 9 million new registered voters! So, regardless of who won the election, there were more people than ever involved in the American political process, which means more people than ever care about our country. All Americans should be proud of this year's Election Day participation.

Fire in the Driveway

I heard Lil'J digging around in a pillow case filled with candy and I hollered from the next room, "Are you taking your sister's candy?" I knew he had hardly done any trick or treating the night before; he'd been too busy getting in shaving cream fights down the street.

"No, it's not her candy," he responded. "I haven't reached that stage yet." I had to giggle and silently agree. I hadn't reached the phase of Halloween aftermath when I eat C's candy either. We all eat C's candy because she really doesn't like candy that much. I've found that darn pillow case in her room in August, filled with crusty old candy bars and lollipops.

This year was the first Halloween I wasn't home alone handing out candy, while Big J went out with the kids. This year, both C and Lil'J were out on their own (though I did keep tabs on C by making her call me from her cell phone every time she and her girlfriends went on a new street.)

Beginning when they were babies, Big J would take the kids door to door. At first he popped them in a wagon and rolled them down the sidewalk, and later he trailed behind as they raced up and down the streets. Thinking about the old days made me a little sad. This year, each time the doorbell rang, Big J and I felt like an elderly couple answering the door and "ooing and ahhing" over all the little tykes' costumes.

Then I had the idea of pulling our little chiminea out to the driveway and lighting a fire. Soon, we had lawn chairs, the tiki torches, tunes and even a little wine. The night became much more festive! And, when our kids and their friends returned to our house to sort and trade their candy bootie, a crowd of parents gathered in the driveway. Not only did we recount the evening's events, we also reminisced about the Halloween's of recent years, and those of our youth. Somehow shaving cream fights don't sound so bad when I hear stories about my friends egging cars when they were kids.

So, our children are growing and now heading into the Halloween world without us. And while the times are changing, it's possible we started a new Halloween tradition this year. Mental note...next year get more candy and a few duraflames.

WHO Are You?

Last week my siblings and I celebrated my Dad’s 86th Birthday. While he has some of the health problems that come with age, he often tells me “I don’t feel my age,” inside. His personality, sense of humor and outlook have not aged at the same rate as his body. I guess he feels young, but his body sometimes reminds him that he's getting on in years. That sentiment was echoed in a conversation with my oldest brother, who is only a bit over 50. He feels the same as he did in his 20’s. Little did I know that within the week I’d be in a huge stadium with thousands of people who clearly had a strong desire to re-experience their youth … I went the see The Who in concert.

When we were invited by some friends, I thought the concert might be fun. Until the second song, I didn’t realize just how much I was going to enjoy this show. The playlist ranged from classics to songs that I had completely forgotten about. And the thing about Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey is that they just don’t hold back. They put so much energy into their music, it’s easy to forget they’re in their sixties! A highlight for me was the song Love Reign O’er Me, in which Daltrey sang with total abandon. I don’t know how his voice, reaching such scratchy, wailing highs, has lasted so long.

The crowd at the Boston Garden was filled with middle-aged folks, at least age 40 and above, but once the lights went down it could have been a stadium of teenagers. Everyone was singing and dancing to the music as if it was their first concert ever. And while seeing The Who made me feel young, it also brought back a lot of memories from days gone by. Some were fun memories, even treasured memories. Other memories made me in wonder, "what was I thinking?" And I decided that, while I like maintaining the kernal of my personality from my youth, I so much prefer my later years. And even though I'm getting old, it doesn't mean I can't still ROCK! In the end, it was good to leave the Boston Garden as a grown-up.

In Hot Water

I was the one who always wanted the hot tub. I’m just that kind of person. I love hot water; I love taking baths. Swirling, bubbling, roiling water, with powerful jet massages was, to me, heaven on earth. What could possibly be better than a big bubbling box of hot water in the back yard? And from a therapeutic perspective, couldn’t we all use some physical relaxation to balance the stress in our busy lives?
The kids wanted one, too. They’re entering their teenage years and want to have friends over to socialize and “hang.” “All the experts say to encourage your children and their friends to spend time at your house,” I reminded my husband. A spa would give teenagers something fun to do in our back yard. Closely supervised, it would help keep the kids out of trouble.
My husband, however, is not a big fan of hot tubs. He’ll go in one at a friend’s house or a fancy hotel, but he’s never really wanted one. For years he was ambivalent, and unenthusiastic on the subject of hot tubs. But, with three of us so keen on the idea, he finally agreed that a hot tub could be a great addition to our home.
For months, everything we did was with the hot tub in mind. Our new patio was designed carefully with generous space for the tub. Our sprinkler system and spigots were placed so that the hot tub could be filled and drained effortlessly. We even chose dark wood-toned patio furniture, noting how it would match the “mahogany” exterior of the big tub. We researched spas and got thick envelopes and DVDs in the mail. We finally found a good deal and drove to New Hampshire to pick the color, size and style. We put down our deposit…and then the trouble began.
I guess we underestimated the cost of actually getting a hot tub installed. You need to hire an electrician and it’s not cheap. “Okay, but it’ll be worth it,” I said reassuringly. Then, the electrician informed us that, in addition to the hot tub installation, we would need to upgrade the electricity supply to out house. We simply didn’t have enough voltage to run a hot tub. Upgrading from 100 amps to 200 amps was a necessity. “Well,” my husband reasoned, “we should probably do that anyway.” Oh, then our old electric meter was not up to code and had to be ripped off the house, leaving a gaping hole, and moved to the front of the house. Cha-ching!
As the dollar amount grew, I started having second thoughts. With the economy in a spiral, and me in the midst of a career change, and my husband in a new job, was this really the time to buy a hot tub? “Careful what you wish for,” I reminded myself. But, at every turn, even when we thought we’d have to take the entire picket fence down to get the tub into the yard, my husband calmed me. “It’ll all work out,” he’d say.
Then, this past Friday, the glorious day arrived -- the hot tub was delivered and installed. We waited all day for the water to get to 100 degrees, and then we jumped in! All weekend we had kids and adults dropping by for a quick soak. It seemed like the grill was cooking non-stop and the music was blasting and our back yard had turned into a hot spot of neighborhood fun. That is, until Sunday, when the brown foam started to accumulate around the edges of the spa.
“Quick! Get the manual! Get the chemicals!” I cried. We may as well have donned white lab coats and protective eyewear. Suddenly, Ph balance, calcium, bromine and alkalinity were part of our ongoing vocabulary. I became obsessed with checking the water all day, and trying to fix it. Here’s a capful of this to get the foam down, and a teaspoon of that to get rid of the disgusting scum. And, before I knew it, the water turned GREEN! Bright, neon, nuclear, glow-in the dark GREEN! We had the hot tub for less than three full days, and it was green. If I were the type that cursed, I would have let the foul words rip. But, instead, I just got very quiet and depressed. My husband and I both searched the internet and came up with the same information. “It’s either too much metal in the water, or too much bromine.” Either we needed to add more chemicals or, God forbid, empty the water and start again.
Now I was feeling entirely guilty. I felt like I had tried to build Sodom and Gomorra in my back yard and I was being punished. Was it really too much to ask for? I had just wanted some pleasure, okay, maybe even some decadent pleasure, in my life. But maybe I wanted too much. The waste of water, all those chemicals, and the expense --this is not really who I am. I recycle. I bring reusable shopping bags to the grocery store. I only use Lime on my grass. I’m fiscally responsible. What had come over me?
I kept waiting for my husband to say it… “I told you so.” I kept thinking at any moment he would express his overwhelming frustration and disappointment, and finally place the blame on me which was, after all, where it belonged. And I kept waiting…but he never said it. As the dollar amount rose, as the water turned green, as my desire for a hot tub turned to disgust, he never lost his cool and turned to me to say, “I never even wanted a hot tub!” And, somehow, I don’t think he will. And, I have to wonder if he is a better person than I, because at this point I would love to blame this fiasco on anyone but myself.
So, as I sit here on Monday morning trying to figure out what to do about the green hot tub that has become my aquatic nemesis, at least I can take some solace and appreciate what’s really important. Mentally, I can soak in the warmth of my marriage, and massage my soul in the love, patience and kindness of my husband. Who needs a hot tub, anyway?

A day at the Beach

Finally, Oct. 1st rolled around and I’m able to take the dog(s) to the beach near my house. It’s a tricky beach because it basically doesn’t exist at high tide. At low tide, the beach is expansive! For three days in a row, I’ve made a quick visit to the beach a priority on my “to do” list.

Walking the beach, and letting the dogs run free, I can’t help but feel a sense of relief from my daily life. I watch the dogs chase birds, balls, other dogs, and though my pockets are heavy with symbols of reality, like car keys, leashes, plastic bags and dog treats, my spirit soars up and down the expanse of beach freely.

Most times I am alone on the beach, but dog owners are a friendly bunch. When we meet, we rarely exchange our names, just the names of the four-legged frolickers. Over the years, I’ve taken many walks with complete strangers, never to be seen again. Sometimes we’ve talked about nothing important, the weather, dogs, how lucky we are to be here, now. Other times, I’ve heard life stories, love stories, or tales of loss and betrayal. There’s something freeing in anonymity.

Today on the beach the glaring sun dazzled wet sand making each footstep (or paw step) shimmer with energy. I looked for slick wet rocks that held the promise of drying with undiminished beauty. I remembered sandcastles of my youth, and the miniature sand people that lived there and had to magically rebuild with every change of tide. I breathed ocean air that had blown over from Spain, filled with the essence of wine and Paella. I got my sneakers soaked and laughed.

“A day at the beach” is an expression people use to say something will be easy, fun, not a problem. It’s an appropriate expression.

Paul Newman

I was at my Dad's house in Westport, CT when I got the news about Paul Newman's death. Newman was a long-time Westport resident, and hearing of his passing reminded me of the two times I actually interacted with him, and how he made me feel not only at ease, but rather special.

The first time I was in 8th grade and I was buying a Foghat Album for my "boyfriend." I was at such an awkward stage of my life...not knowing how to handle having a boyfriend, and not really knowing who the band Foghat was. (That was a pretty heavy band for a girl who liked James Taylor and Carly Simon.) And the guy I was "going out with" wore a leather jacket and seemed oh-so-much cooler than I. I had the sinking sensation I was in over my head. And as I was debating which album to buy, I noticed there was a man standing near me, and I looked up and into the incredible blue eyes of Paul Newman. He noticed me and asked, "How are you?" Just three little words, to which I mentally responded, "Oh, my God! You're Paul Newman!" In reality, I just said, "I'm fine, how are you?" while turning bright red. I think he made some quick small talk about not being able to find what he was looking for, but I really wasn't paying attention because I was weak in the knees. I remember he was really nice, and talking with him for a few minutes made me forget, momentarily, that I had no idea what I was doing on the dating scene, and that I was not nearly cool enough to be with this guy. In the end, I bought the wrong album and my boyfriend returned it and soon broke up with me to go out with a much cooler girl, who is now a lesbian, by the way. But the whole relationship was worth it because I got to meet Paul Newman!

The second time I met Paul Newman was when I was in college; I was a receptionist at a country club. Mr. Newman, in his dashing tennis whites, was stood-up by his tennis date and needed a phone. I let him into my little reception area and he made his call. Yes, I stood near him in very close proximity for a few minutes. He was grateful for the phone usage and I had a nice story to go home with that day. Again, his eye contact and charming smile were incredibly disarming.

I don't know if many famous movie stars today make the people they interact with actually feel better about themselves. Who's to say? I just know that I met Paul Newman twice, and both times he made me feel special. I think he made everyone feel special, and that, in addition to his phenomenal acting and philanthropy, is a real talent! His charming amd inspiring presence on this earth will be greatly missed.

For more on Paul Newman in Westport, here's a nice article from the Boston Globe.