Dog Owner Commandments:

As we venture back into this realm of dog ownership, I've been reminding my kids not to spoil the puppy.  We have had one bad dog that died because it didn't come when called and got hit by a car, and we had one good dog that died from cancer, but it took a long, long time for him to become a good dog on a regular basis.  He was sometimes good and sometimes naughty for several years. So I'm a little anxious about doing a good job of training this pup right from the beginning. The challenge is that there are a lot of people who are handling this little beast on a regular basis. So I am constantly reminding them of things like, Don't let him nip! Don't let him jump! Don't let him gnaw the furniture or the Playmobils! Don't let him pee on Dad's favorite Afghanistan carpet! Don't let him in your bed! Let him sleep! Especially let him sleep in his crate!  I have been consumed by watching the puppy for signs that he needs to go to the bathroom.  I thought it might be helpful to make a list of our family goals for the dog. So here goes:

Dog Owner Commandments:

I will teach my dog good manners: to come when called, to sit when ordered, to stay when commanded, and to resist jumping, barking, and gnawing on things that don't belong to him.
I will not foist cute dog stories or photos on innocent bystanders or Instagram followers - or at least not often.  Blog readers might get some dog stories and photos. Cave canem.
I will not assume everyone wants to pet my annoying dog.
I will try everything in my power to make sure my dog is not annoying.
I will try to engage my whole family in articulating the same commands: "Sit, Down, Stay, Come, No bite, Kennel Up, Do Your Business"
I will try to engage my whole family in discouraging unpleasant behaviors by reinforcing positive behaviors, but I will always have a spray bottle of water/vinegar handy.
I will hope my dog is smart but not too smart for his own good.
I will never let my dog sleep in my bed. Maybe the kids' beds though...
I will not let my dog get fat on table scraps and from a lack of exercise.
I will not let the dog set my schedule.
I will not let the dog interrupt my travel plans. I will find a friend with a dog to trade dog watching hours, or I pay for a kennel.
I will encourage the dog to be independent enough to stay at home alone without anxiety, but dependent enough to obey my every command.
I will appreciate the anxiety reducing qualities of patting a dog along with the life affirming and self esteem building properties of having a dog squirm with joy at the sight of me.  I will delight in the progress the dog makes towards becoming a canine good citizen. I will take joy in my children's delight and relish their willingness to take on responsibilities out of love for another creature.
At least that's what I hope if this dog doesn't turn out to be too annoying.

So far, so good. It is hard not too love small, homely creatures.

June comes to an end

Today is the last day of June, and I have yet to sit down and continue documenting our lives for my poor memory. I left off last time in mid-June; here are a few more photos of the month. High school graduation was the same day as the now 14 year old's birthday, so we had a double family celebration with cake. The 14 year old not only had ice cream and cake for her birthday and eighth grade promotion, but also for a swimming party for her friends - who stayed 8 hours (we did reapply sunscreen) - and for her confirmation the next Sunday - which was a small service for immediate families and sponsors only.   We did have a small celebration with the families of her two friends who also went through the program. They used the Matthew Kelly Decision Point videos and workbook, which are fine, light on catechism, but easily supplemented, although with this sixth child we were not as diligent with intentional teaching.  The program was sponsored by the military archdiocese, and for our group of 8 students, we met in family homes, watched the videos, did the discussions, shared a meal, and then played games that were supposed to have a catechetical tie-in - like hangman or scavenger hunt for fruits of the spirit.  I really liked the combination of family involvement, learning, and fellowship of this format, which is why we went through the military chapel instead of our own parish, which has changed to confirmation program several times, to its current iteration, which is a week of lectures in addition to attending youth group regularly, which doesn't get a great turnout. 

The following week the younger girls and I went to Tucson to take some furniture to our oldest son, who now is officially independent, with a job, an apartment, a new car, and insurance.  We brought him a table and chairs, which I bought for him from a neighbor who was moving - and I bought myself a new used couch for our living room.  We also tried to bring him a box spring, but halfway through the six hour drive, the tie down straps broke and the box spring flew off the top of the car. One of the ratchets of the tie down straps hit our back window and shattered it. Fortunately, the glass didn't blow into the car - thank goodness for tempered glass.  But the girls were crying as I pulled over, ran down the side of the interstate to pull the box spring off to the side and recover our tarp and straps to try to shield the windshield so we could continue driving. My husband called ahead to a glass repair company that boarded it up for us when we reached Yuma, 30 minutes down the road. The rest of the trip was uneventful, but hot. I loved the heat, since I never feel hot here. The girls withered, however, on our three mile hike through Saguaro National Park, which just outside of the city - almost an urban national park.

Not wanting to waste time, the girls and I and a couple of  the 14 year old's friends took another short road trip - this time northeast, to the San Bernardino National Forest to camp two nights. I don't know why we have never visited this area - it was gorgeous, and just 2.5 hours away.  Maybe because it was on fire a few years ago? Or because it is close to LA? But for a midweek campout during a Covid pandemic, it was not crowded at all.  I loved getting out into the pine trees. We did have one stutter-start when a drunk/high couple on the verge of a nasty breakup, or so it seemed because of their fighting, pulled into the camp spot across from ours. I kept hoping they would just break up and leave - or at least one of them peel out. But they had their tent set up by the time the camp host came around to check everyone in. We were 3/4ths set up by this time, but I still asked the host if we could change spots. That particular campground didn't have any openings for two nights in a row, but the more primitive campground down the road did, so we moved. The second campground was nearly empty, and much prettier. That's the difference between a place with flush toilets and one with pit toilets.  I'd much rather endure the stench of pit and have peace and quiet than have the luxury of flushing the toilet.  This camp was more wooded and had a scenic little creek with small falls burbling through it.  The girls were great sports about resetting camp and were also great hikers.

No sooner were we unpacked and settled back in at home after that little respite, than my son found a puppy at the pound down the road.  I must have been sleep deprived from camping, or on a fresh air high, but for some reason, I said yes to the puppy.  I woke up the next morning after we brought it home - at 5:30 to the sound of its cries - than I second-guessed my decision.  He is a small terrier mix with a tiny bladder.  We have a fourteen day trial period, so if  I'm a zombie by then, he may go back.  Fortunately for him, he has only had one accident - maybe because I am like a hawk soaring above him when he is out of his crate.  His presence will make going camping again any time soon complicated, but he has an adoring audience who are spending much less time on electronic devices, so is it worth it?  We shall see how the next ten days go...

High school graduation day

Senior class president address

Another drive-by graduation 

... followed by a student organized gathering in the park.

Celebrating with sparklers

Race awareness art for a small march in our town - an introduction to activism. The march ended with a presentation of a petition to the school board for a stronger response to racism in the schools, which is a problem in our affluent, mostly white community. 

Prior to the march there was a gathering at the park to hear the experiences of minorities in the school district, which ranged from disappointing to shocking.  It was not a large gathering but it made an impact; the school board accepted the petition and pledged to respond. 

A mother son paddle board expedition - the only photo he allowed me to take

Confirmand and her sponsor

Fancy hair for the confirmation

Picking up Albert the Great

My middle son commented that he looks a little like those wiry Webkinz. As my sister commented, he is an odd creature, but he is very affectionate.

Reading to Bertie on the new used couch.

Updates

The past few weeks have provided bushels of food for thought.  There's a lot to ponder, but in the meantime, after weeks of empty calendar boxes, we suddenly had a week full of milestones and celebrations.  The week began with a small farewell dinner party for people from my husband's work, and ended with a celebration of Confirmation on the first day back to Mass in California.  We also marked a birthday, watched awards ceremonies, had 3 car parades, an eighth grade promotion, a tumultuous high school graduation, and a couple events accompanying that occasion. Also, our oldest son is setting up his first apartment on his own in Arizona. And the world is in upheaval.

I've been relieved that because of the protocols around social distancing, we didn't feel obligated to mark these events with big party.  Here are some photos of our celebrations:

We celebrated an anniversary

The kids made the sushi

Someone lost a tooth and her brother wrote her a book.

Masking for a baccalaureate. They are smiling, maybe.

Picking up cap and gown

Eighth grade drive through graduation

Goodbye, middle school

This cutie had another birthday

We cut 12 inches of hair and donated it for wigs for children. So much easier to brush!

New pet - it actually hatched into a pretty sulfur butterfly.

Online college graduation

pie for dinner

Ceramics class projects were picked up. I'm sad I wasn't the beneficiary of more projects since the class was cut short from corona.

Whose tallest now?

My daughter's boyfriend's mother buys her flowers.

Pentecost cake

I'm having difficulty getting photos to upload, so that's all for now...

Poetry Foundation links

My son shared this poem today by Lucille Clifton, which led to a diversion into the offerings of the Poetry Foundation.  Poetry speaks when we are not quite sure what to say.  

jasper texas 1998

BY LUCILLE CLIFTON

for j. byrd

i am a man's head hunched in the road.

i was chosen to speak by the members

of my body. the arm as it pulled away

pointed toward me, the hand opened once

and was gone.

why and why and why

should i call a white man brother?

who is the human in this place,

the thing that is dragged or the dragger?

what does my daughter say?

the sun is a blister overhead.

if i were alive i could not bear it.

the townsfolk sing we shall overcome

while hope bleeds slowly from my mouth

into the dirt that covers us all.

i am done with this dust. i am done.

Lucille Clifton, "jasper texas 1998" from Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000. Copyright © 2000 by Lucille Clifton. Reprinted with the permission of BOA Editions, Ltd. Source: Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000 (BOA Editions Ltd., 2000)

Boy Breaking Glass

BY GWENDOLYN BROOKS

To Marc Crawford
from whom the commission

Whose broken window is a cry of art   

(success, that winks aware

as elegance, as a treasonable faith)

is raw: is sonic: is old-eyed première.

Our beautiful flaw and terrible ornament.   

Our barbarous and metal little man.

“I shall create! If not a note, a hole.   

If not an overture, a desecration.”

Full of pepper and light

and Salt and night and cargoes.

“Don’t go down the plank

if you see there’s no extension.   

Each to his grief, each to

his loneliness and fidgety revenge.

Nobody knew where I was and now I am no longer there.”

The only sanity is a cup of tea.   

The music is in minors.

Each one other

is having different weather.

“It was you, it was you who threw away my name!   

And this is everything I have for me.”

Who has not Congress, lobster, love, luau,   

the Regency Room, the Statue of Liberty,   

runs. A sloppy amalgamation.

A mistake.

A cliff.

A hymn, a snare, and an exceeding sun.

Gwendolyn Brooks, “Boy Breaking Glass,” from Blacks (Chicago: Third World Press, 1987). Reprinted by consent of Brooks Permissions. Source: Blacks (Third World Press, 1987)

Homage to Black Madonnas

BY MARGARET BURROUGHS

Venerable black women

You of yesterday, you of today.

Black mothers of tomorrow yet to be

These lines are homage to you, for you. 

Magnificent black women

The poets and singers have been remiss

Have sung too few poems and songs of you

And the image makers have not recorded your beauty.

Sheba, Nefertiti, Zaiditu, Cleopatra.

Black women, Mothers of humanity, Mother original

Your black children here salute you.

You, bartered, sold, insulted, raped and defiled,

Debased and debauched for four centuries. 

Strong women, Gannet, Tubman and Truth. 

Weary black women

Your breasts gaunt from nurturing theirs first

And later sustaining yours, caring for theirs

At the same instance providing for yours also.

Women forgotten, Mandy, Melindy, Cindy, and Lisa.

Gentle black women

While being hated, yet teaching love

Being scorned, yet teaching respect

Being humiliated and teaching Compassion.

Humble women, Bessie, Mattie, Lucey, Ann and Willie Mae. 

Resourceful black women, with tact

Managing to make do, alter clothing,

Stretch meals, Making room, Prodding, Bolstering

Nudging us on, Protecting, teaching survival. 

Laney, Bethune, Keckley, Terrel and Brown. 

Militant black women, defending yours with fury

Standing firm, picketing and demonstrating

Kneeling in, sitting in and wading in

Standing, walking, marching and boycotting. 

Parks, Wells, Pleasant and Louvestre. 

Discerning black women, women of genius

Setting your children a proper example

Teaching that each generation must do its part

To improve life for those coming after. 

Nannie, Gaines, Burroughs, Maggie Walker. 

Courageous black women, brave and fearless

Seeking to make a home among the unfriendly

Sending your children off to school

To pass unscathed through walls of hate.

Lucy, Bates, Richardson, and Hamer.

Angry black women and understanding

Aware of efforts to stunt your men

Yet urging them manhood again.

Diana, Gloria, Thelma, Ethel, Eva and Marion.

Heroic black women, women of glory

Not turning back, never giving up

Equalling, surpassing the stature

Of any race of women, anywhere, any time.

Billie, Ella, Dinah, Sis-Sirretta, Mahalia.

Black women of genius, brilliant women

Walking through the hateful valleys

In dignity, strength and such serene composure

That even your enemies tremble insecure. 

Hansberry, Talbert, Bonds and Baker. 

Magnificent black women, hopeful women

Believing that trouble doesn't last always

Knowing this truth, that those who are slaves today

May well be the masters tomorrow, even sooner. 

Sisters with all women, black women

Your sufferings echo those of all the oppressed.

Join together all of you in a universal cry

For Peace and the good life for all. The world listens. 

Margaret Burroughs, "Homage to Black Madonnas" from What Shall I Tell My Children Who Are Black?.  Copyright © 1968, 1992 by Margaret Burroughs.  Reprinted by permission of the Margaret Burroughs Estate. 

Other poems by Margaret Burroughs can be found here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/146263/what-shall-i-tell-my-children-who-are-black-reflections-of-an-african-american-mother

and the first two poems are from this collection:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/collections/101581/poems-of-protest-resistance-and-empowerment

Recent reads

A book that offers escape is a welcome treat every once in a while. I binge read Neil Gaiman's Stardust this week.  Loved it. Neil Gaiman sets the standard for contemporary fairy tale writing - not that I've read a lot of this genre, but some of the young adult books the kids have picked up and I've perused seem to take themselves too seriously. Gaiman's writing is playful and hits just the right key between emulating the language of fairy tales and natural dialogue. He brings his setting and characters alive.

Stardust is supposedly set sometime in the not distant past, Gaiman suggests the 1920s, but I did imagine the characters on the human side of Wall, the fictional town defined by a wall that leads to faerie land, to be more medieval. The humans are only allowed to cross the wall once a year to go to the faerie market for a day and a half. There they can buy all sorts of wonders.  Dunstan Thorne finds his heart's desire while he is there - the gift of a grateful lodger in his small cottage. This blessing that might be a curse is passed down through generations, so that when, nine months later, a basket with a baby boy is left at the wall with the name Tristan Thorne written on a slip of paper pinned to it, Dunstan accepts the baby as his son, and his son grows up to obtain his heart's desire, too. That's where the plot takes off - with Tristan heading off to the other side of the wall to find a fallen star to give to the girl he loves.

Of course, all sorts of fantastical adventures ensue. The star turns out to be in the from of a beautiful young girl, and she is being sought, not just by Tristan, but by other inhabitants of this world, including a witch in search of eternal youth gained by eating the star's heart, and ambitious princes who seek the star to gain their father's throne.  Other characters they meet along the way bring humor and wonder to the story as well.

It's a fun romp through a place that appeals to some inner yearning in our own hearts - is there some heart's desire to live in a world like this, full of magic and talking trees, where needs are elemental?  This is a fairy tale intended for grown-ups - although excising a couple scenes could put it back on the juvenile shelves, but is it juvenile to still enjoy reading it?  Good writing should transcend genre in its appeal to readers, which is why it is so fun to reread Charlotte's Web, our current read aloud, but a little more of a slog to get through Surprise Island, a Boxcar Children book, which is fine, but the dialogue is a bit flat, and the children so good.  They do have a generous grandfather who lets them live on an island for a summer, though, a realistic fantasy.  What is it about fairy tales and fantasy that captures our imagination?  Some readers may prefer mysteries or historical fiction or science fiction or thrillers - I'll read them all.  The world of the fantastic may be harder to create - perhaps Gaiman's trick is adding some earthy humor. Or his gift for dialogue and description.  Apparently Stardust was made into a movie, but I can't imagine it improving on the book.  The charm might become silly, and the characters flat.  I probably won't look it up.  But I did enjoy having something light and entertaining to read for a couple nights.

Causes for celebrating and slumping

This week is full of birthdays: The 18th would have been John Paul II's 100th birthday. Yesterday was my mother-in-law's birthday. My son's fiancee celebrates a birthday on the 21st, as does our good friend from college. And I have my own birthday this weekend! All seem like good reasons to have a little cake tonight. We are always looking for some excuse to bake around here. 

Since it is also Laudato Si week, which honors the fifth anniversary of the publication of Laudato Si, maybe we should try to make cake that is waste-free. Does that mean we eat it all (no food waste!) and bake from scratch (no packaging waste!)?  For my own reference, here are links to some events and programs: https://catholicclimatemovement.global/.  One of the speakers is the director of the Yale Divinity School's program in Religion and Ecology. I listened for a little bit this morning.  Some good news is that the environment has received a little reprieve from the pandemic stay at home orders.

I have been doing a little research on potential opportunities for furthering my education. I was hoping that a happy byproduct of this Covid shut down would be some online opportunities for graduate study, but I haven't found much in the field I am researching. Since teaching the Nature Writing class, I have thought perhaps I should finally finish the Ph.D. I had started 20 years ago, although to what end, I keep asking. The the number of programs that integrate ecology and the humanities are growing.  One of my summer goals is to send out a few paper proposals to revisit an academic mindset. When I envision teaching in the long term, I am drawn to a program like this over a literature program because it moves beyond the academic to the practical and connects the arts and sciences. I vacillate between the idea of moving towards a "career" and doing something more altruistic, like volunteering more or looking into foster care now that our own kids are moving out and onward and now that our military life is nearing an end in the next year or two or three... the economic downtown has caused us to revisit whether next summer is the right time for my husband to retire and find a civilian job or take another tour with the Navy.

In other news, we received word yesterday that our college kids in Indiana will be back on campus in the fall.  That's good news, although I wouldn't have minded having them around. They return for a short summer break in a week. The plan for reopening is to minimize student travel by starting school early and ending before Thanksgiving.  The reasoning is that students will shelter in place on campus.

 On the other hand, I am frustrated by a photo in the WSJ of a casino not too far from us opening. In the photo, a line of gamblers is waiting outside the door. They certainly do not look six feet apart, nor do they all appear to be masked.  On the other hand, churches are still closed, and the policies for reconvening that the bishop is suggesting to comply with government restrictions limit attendance to only a small portion of the congregation. Parishioners 65 and older are asked to stay home, and the seating arrangement suggested does not allow families to sit together, so basically everyone with young children is being asked to stay home, too.  So many more accessible options are available - and already in practice elsewhere.  Governor Newsom apparently has been advised that his restrictions on religious services may violate some law,  In the meantime, gamblers can throw all their free money from the government away on slot machines - some casinos aren't even restricting capacity.

I can't think about that anymore because it makes me angry. But while I'm ranting, I will also add my irritation at the Wall Street Journal editors in regard to a different issue.  I am rarely moved to write about political news, but the recent opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal's Saturday Review section by Gerard Baker was incendiary. He compares the lack of press surrounding the shooting of an elderly white couple by a mentally unstable black man after a robbery to the belated outcry over the shooting of Ahmaud Arbery to suggest that the killing of young black men by white people receives disproportionate media attention.  But a stark difference exists in these cases: the alleged perpetrator in the first case was chased down and killed.  The alleged perpetrators in the Arbery killing went home to life as usual for a few months because of their personal and professional relationships with people in the police and justice departments in their area. This gross injustice reeks of an old boy network that protects the guilty and lets the innocent suffer, as well as a shocking miscarriage of justice that negates any progress in the eradication of racism, despite the media attention that Baker decries.  What precedent is set when Arbery's murder goes unprosecuted for two months on the basis of his killers' claim that it was a citizen's arrest, even though he was unarmed and hadn't committed a crime?  

I do not fear for my young adult sons' lives when they go for a jog, or wear hoodies, or get pulled over for minor traffic infractions.  My friend, however, is afraid to allow her sons to walk alone outside. My sons are white; hers are black.  Until she no longer has to live with that fear, Mr. Baker's argument is weak and perpetuates injustice.  It reads like the words of someone who wants to deny what makes him uncomfortable, but Ahmaud Arbery's story should make him feel very uncomfortable, and horrified, shocked, and saddened that such hate crimes still happen without consequences until an outcry is raised. 

Well, I realize that this post started with happy news and ended with frustration. Is the answer to avoid the news and focus on our immediate surroundings?  Should we avoid emotional engagement with national news or try to balance the response? When should we be moved to action - to write letters to the editor and to the governor?  The news has sucked hours of my attention over the past couple of months -- now I am exhausted by it. Even though I do feel we have a civic duty to be informed about social and political issues, and to engage when we can, I am not very gifted in discerning what level of engagement is too much or too little. I am a passive consumer of news, and not a very active participant in movements against injustice. 

In order to balance my self-condemnation, we did take several bags of shelf stable food that I had purchased in my initial fear that the stores would shut down to a boy scout friend's house for his family to take to the food pantry. I am never an organizer, but I am happy to be a laborer.

So now let us turn to celebrating the gift of life and eat cake. . .