Ella

Yesterday began as any Saturday generally would.  David had to work.  Ella and I began our walk.  We've had 4 or 5 days of rain - heavy rain, light rain, intermittent rain, occasional showers, more rain and always overcast.  Yesterday was supposed to be the beginning of a new weather phase.  But here's a photo from our walk a couple of days ago:

It actually looks more threatening than it was on that particular morning. 

So anyway, yesterday we got down to Front Street on the water and I threw the ball for Ella.  If I haven't mentioned that, I usually take a ball and when we get down to the water, we stop by one of the businesses there - a company selling bait to fishermen.  They have a big open grassy area on the north side of their building and somewhat smaller grassy area on the south side.  The south side has a small (2-1/2 foot) concrete wall between the grass and the street, and I like that because I feel Ella is less likely to be distracted by squirrels or dogs and run into the street.  But the north side is bigger with more room for throwing the ball.  So we stopped and I threw the ball for her on the north side.  Because it was the weekend, I thought we could have a longer walk, so we went down by the shipyard and Pro-Steel fabrication shop - which are directly on the water. 

From there we've discovered a very short path through some skimpy woods to the beach.  If the tide is low, or lowering, I can throw the ball on the beach for Ella and she can run around there, sniffy seaweed and other interesting things.  So we went there.

I'm not sure what she ate, but while I turned my back, looking for the ball she hadn't brought back, she must have eaten something or at least licked something ... very very icky.

A few minutes later, as we left, she got that glassy look in her eyes, her gait stiffened and slowed, and she threw up.  Nothing terribly unusual in that.  It's my guess that because Ella lived on the streets of St. Louis for at least weeks if not months before her rescue, she is a creature who wants to lick and if possible eat anything organic that isn't tied down.  It's probably one reason she has such a sensitive stomach.  Anyway, I wasn't terribly worried by her throwing up.  A few moments later she threw up a second time.  Again, not that unusual.  But then she just stopped.  She didn't want to walk up the steep incline from the street that leads to the beach back to the main street.  I had to more or less drag her.  I got her back to the main street and we crossed it to a local restaurant called Hole in the Wall.  There she threw herself down on the grass in front, stretched all the way out, head down.  She didn't want to move.  She didn't lift her head, her tail didn't twitch, her ears didn't perk when I spoke to her.  A very sick puppy.

I finally got her to get up.  She slowly walked up to Cedar Street, from which it is about a 1/3 mile walk back to our house, mostly uphill.  With constant encouragement she made it about a block, and threw herself down right on the pavement of the street.  I was freaking out.  I left her lying in the street and knocked on the door of the house we were near.  I hadn't brought my phone but I thought if someone would let me use their phone I would call my neighbor, Melissa, who along with her son Tobias, loves Ella almost as much as David and I do.  There was no answer to my knocking on the door.

With constant encouragement, I got Ella to get up and we went about another block.  She lay down again, but I got her to do so on the grass.  A woman came by, someone we've often seen on her morning walk while we were on our own.  She stopped and asked what was wrong.  While we were talking, a cab pulled up at a nearby house, picking someone up to take them to work.  The woman offered to ask the cab to take us home.  Which the cab driver did, with the agreement of the passenger.

At home, I called the emergency vet and left a call back request. I then called Melissa - she's a nurse - and asked her to come over.  Meanwhile, once again Ella flopped down on the floor.  Same thing - head down on the floor, no ear or tail twitch or other sign of life - except she still breathed.  I was sure that somehow Ella had eaten poison and was dying right there, right then, in front of me. 

Finally the vet called back - Dr. Lee, Ella's own vet who happened to be on call.  He immediately made me feel somewhat better.  He said there was no poison he knew of that could act so fast.  He told me to give her water, no food for a while, watch her, let her rest.  If she showed signs of distress - panting even while resting, or a swollen belly - to call him back, but he thought she would be okay. 

But when Melissa came, then I REALLY felt better.  For the first time since she threw up the first time, Ella got up on on her own and went to the door to greet Melissa.  (Ella loves Melissa and Tobias almost as much as she loves David and me.)  She came back and lay down again, but this time by the couch where Meliss and I sat.  The fact that Ella got up on her own to greet Melissa finally made me believe that she would be okay.

I rearranged my day and stayed home with Ella, leaving only later in the afternoon when I was sure she was okay - after she started playing with her ball (which she likes to "bury" in her "rug" by putting the ball on her little rug, and then scrunching up the rug around it so the ball is hidden, and then she "finds" it again).  She also was clearly hungry, and in the early afternoon I gave her some cooked rice that I had in the fridge.  She ate it with no problem.  By the evening she was totally fine, back to normal.

It was one of the hardest days I recall in a while.  To see your usually active, playful, happy, healthy, curious, outgoing, loving dog lay down in the middle of the street and not only not be willing or able to walk another 10 feelt, but also fail to respond to you - I really thought she was going to die.

But Ella's okay.  So I'm okay.  We had our walk this morning.  No ball.  No beach.  I tried to keep a close eye to make sure she didn't eat anything untoward.  She had breakfast.  And now she's curled in a ball, sleeping.

I am grateful.  To the woman who stopped to help.  To the cab driver and his passenger who brought us home.  To Melissa who came immediately when I called her.  To Dr. Lee and PenBay Vet's 24-hour hot line.  To Ella, for coming back to us.

Peace and brighter skies.

Stream of whatever... a rant, with apologies in advance...

A police officer who kills a young black man not resisting arrest must not look enough like a ham sandwich to get indicted in New York City.  Eric Garner and Michael Brown and too many others.  Black Lives Matter.  Metropolitan police departments armed with tanks, machine guns (including here in Maine, a state with 1.3 million inhabitants spread out over 35,000+ square miles—population density, 43 persons per square mile (surprisingly 38th in the country).  Who is raking in profits from arming those police departments?

2,000 Palestinian and Jewish Israelis marching peacefully in Jerusalem after an Arab-Jewish school is attacked.  Moshe Kahlon for Prime Minister?  Could someone in the early 21st century actually compromise?  Not in America.

 

Guantanamo still open, hunger strikers force fed.  I signed another petition.  One, two many petitions.  Obama – Yes, We Can - keep Guantanamo open - expand spying on American citizens by the NSA - renew and extend the Patriot Act .... etc. etc. etc.

Syria - 50% of the population displaced, outright refugees or home abandoned.  3 million Syrian children not in school.  What are they learning instead? Who to blame?  I try to imagine 50% of the American population being displaced, even 10%.  Why can we never put ourselves in anyone else’s shoes.  Someday, someone is going to rise up and take our shoes away and we’ll be walking in bare feet on broken glass in this country.

 

Ebola - 6,000 dead in Africa. Gay men still not to be allowed to donate blood.  To the Red Cross - who appears to have exaggerated or outright lied in their endless harping on how 91% of every dollar donated goes to programs.  It turns out 91% of every dollar SPENT goes to programs.  Why is the Red Cross making money and what are they doing with it?  Hey, worthless piece of shit Congress, how about investigating that?

 

Two sad pieces of news lately - a lovely woman, Tamara, finally lost her battle with cancer after a long hard fought battle.  Fifty years old and gone a year after diagnosis - if you can call it a diagnosis when they never determined what kind of cancer it was.  A woman beloved by her family, her friends, her synagogue, her community and basically anyone whose life her life touched.  You will be missed, Tammi.  This week I learned that the 23 year old son of a co-worker complained of knee pain over the Thanksgiving holiday, couldn't figure out when he strained it.  It was swollen and really hurt.  Visit to the hospital - bone cancer, requiring surgery and chemo at least.  Still don't know what stage it is.  Will someone tell me how a person who has a lucky break in life can say "I owe it all to God"?  Hey, God! Why Tammi?  Why a 23 year old young man?  In fact, why cancer?  And I'm not even warmed up or looking back at history...  Maybe we all need to read The Sixth Extinction.  Dinosaurs were on this planet for 10's of MILLIONS of years.  We've had 50,000 and we're really screwing things up. 

 

In this world, in the darkness swirling all around us, if you find the slightest glimmer of light, of hope, of love, of joy, of peace - hang on tight.

 

 

One two many photos

As I may have mentioned last post, we've been cleaning up from the October snow storm that happened while I was visiting Atlanta.  David used his new chain saw t cut down the big branches.  I used our "lopper" to lop them down to more manageable size and then I piled them in front of the house.  The city is supposed to come by people's homes (were supposed to be here by now, but presumably are extending the time) and pick up yard waste - leaves, branches, etc.  They do that twice a year, fall and spring.  Here's our pile (it is now somewhat reduced because a very ancient looking man came by over the weekend and stashed the wood in the back of a very ancient looking car.  I hope it helps him heat what is probably a very ancient looking home, wherever that is):

 

 

 

 

Ironically - the city came and picked up the debris while I was writing this!

 

Meanwhile I owe photos of the boys since I didn't get to take any while in Atlanta - I didn't take these but this is how they look. First, Halloween - the Green Ninja and Mr. Pizza Slice:

 

 

  Followed by gorgeous Cello:

And Mr. handsome personality, Cachao:

 

 What else?  My new treasurer responsibilities at the synagogue are wearing on me.  I know part of it is that I don't know what I'm doing yet, so it takes me a long time to do what is probably ends up being not a great result.  On top of that, being treasurer puts me on the board of a Jewish organization.  The old saying - Two Jews, Three Opinions - is definitely in play here.  The only thing I dislike more than corporate politics is politics within a Jewish organization.  And yet, I am deeply committed to being a Jew.  It can be painful, frustrating, and in general it is very like what it means to be part of a family, in this instance, a very very extended family.  I don't come from a very extended family, and my own "nuclear" (probably a Freudian usage of that term) family was broken apart before I was conscious.  I'm sure that's part of what sent me on a search that ended with my becoming Jewish more than 31 years ago now. 

 

Something I read in this week's New Yorker short story struck a chord with me.  I'm going to quote a long bit of it.  It is from "The Alaska of Giants and Gods" by Dave Eggers:

 

"She had been born a blank. Her parents were blanks.  All her relatives were blanks, though many were addicts, and she had a cousin who identified as an anarchist.  But otherwise Josie's people were blanks.  They were from nowhere. To be American is to be a blank, and a true American is truly blank. So Josie was truly a great American. 

 

"Still, she'd heard occasional and vague references to Denmark. Once or twice she heard her parents mention some connection to Finland. Her parents knew nothing about these nationalities, these cultures. They cooked no national dishes, they taught Josie no customs, and they had no relatives who cooked national dishes or had customs. They had no clothes, no flags, no banners, no sayings, no ancestral lands or villages or folktales. When she was thirty-two, and had wanted to visit some village, somewhere, where her people had come from, none of her relatives had any idea at all where to go.  One uncle thought he could be helpful.  Everyone in our family speaks English, he said. Maybe you should go to England? ..."

 

I think perhaps that the basis for the success that right-wing jingoist (and racist) propaganda by Republicans and other so-called conservatives have with mostly middle-aged to older white people, especially men, is tied to such persons being "great American ... blanks" who are looking for that tie, that connection, and are being offered it as "American" culture. 

 

Anyway, that's what I've been thinking about.  But Sunday morning on our walk, Ella and I went, as usually, to the Apprenticeshop's pier and watched the sun come up,  We stopped across the street afterwards and I took this photo.

 

 

 

Peace.

 

 

 

 

Fall into winter?

I am back from my visit to Atlanta - a good visit,  little longer than usual.  The highlight, of course, was Cachao's 8th birthday which falls on Halloween.  That morning I went with Sam to Cachao's school to watch the Halloween parade.  All the kids dress up in costumes (ostensibly as a character from a book which each child carries) and parade through the school with parents and family there to watch.  Cachao went as a green ninja, but  I couldn't get a clear photo of him - the kids moved so quickly.  I did get a slightly blurry one of a kindergartner dressed as Audrey Hepburn (I wonder what her book was?):

The visit was also good as Corinne is now in Atlanta and I had time with her, as well as time with Sam.  I was able to get to know Cello better, and even saw John.  On Sunday we played whiffleball in John's backyard - John, Sam, Corinne, and Cachao - Cachao can really hit that ball.  Corinne, Cachao and I visited the Eastlake Community Garden to tend Corinne's plots.  Cachao got to feed Egbert, the pig, and various goats, first some tasty specialty cabbage leaves from Corinne's gardens, and then kudzu when the creatures would have eaten Corinne's garden down to the last shoot of green. 

Here's a picture of Cachao at the farm that Corinne took:

Meanwhile, back in Maine, we had our first snow of the season - reminiscent of the big October snowstorm in Connecticut that left 3/4 of the state without power for days on end (for us, 11 days). This year in Maine, as in Connecticut then, there were still many leaves on the trees. While our town only got about 6 inches of snow, there were very high winds and David lost power for about 12 hours or so. Some places lost power for days, so we were lucky I guess. A tree in our back yard fell on our neighbor's garage. Apparently there was no damage to the garage, but the fallen tree now has to be removed (David now has his own chain saw - once the tree is removed, perhaps he'll sign up for chain saw carving classes!)

Our forsythia bush in the front was somewhat abused as well:

 

Well, that's the news from NoRo.  Oh, I hear you ask - what's NoRo?  Apparently there are a couple of artists who are trying to turn their home - which was first a church down the street from us in our neighborhood, then an apartment building, and now a very large home - into an art gallery.  They are trying to art-ify (you know - art-i-fy, to make art-sy) the north end of Rockland, which apparentlyhas had a less savory reputation historically.  Hey, we live in the north end and we like it here.  Anyway, ergo ... North Rockland = NoRo.  So...

 

Peace, Peace, from NoRo to all points of the compass and beyond.

It slips away...

Time goes by, fall arrives.  The weather is ... odd.  A Nor'easter parked in the Gulf of Maine dropped 4-5 inches of water over 4 days.  Finally the sun came out this weekend. 

Friday night was "Uke Night" at a local music store.  David and I went.  There seemed to be about 20 or 25 people there, including kids, younger people and, of course, our generation was well represented.  We took turns suggesting tunes from the Daily Ukulele (a songbook with 365 tunes), and then strumming them.  We were likely among the less accomplished players, but it was still fun.

Saturday night we went to the Rockport Opera House to a concert of local Maine folk musicians to support a local Maine organization - We The People (wethepeoplemaine.me) - which is part of a larger national movement to repeal the Supreme Court's Citizens United decision through a Constitutional amendment.  The hall was packed (again, our generation well in attendance, actually very over-represented), the music was good, the feeling was upbeat.

 As we were driving home last night, I asked David if it seemed to him that there was more "going on" here - culturally, politically, etc. - than there had been in Connecticut, or if we are just more attuned to it. He thinks there is more going on. I think in Connecticut the "goings on" seemed to be targeted at the wealthier - Hartford Stage, Hartford Symphony, etc. - while here there are a lot of smaller, more locally based happenings happening. Not a very scientific analysis, I guess.

So here's another sample from the Free Press "Miscellaneous" section of the local Calendar of Events:

• "Extreme Savings: A Crash Course in Couponing," 6-8 p.m., Great Salt Bay School, Damariscotta. $24: 563-2811 or clcae@aos93.org.
• "How & Why to Keep Bees in Top Bar Hives," 6-8 p.m., Medomak Valley High School, Waldoboro. $20: 832-5205 or msad40.MaineAdultEd.org.
• "History and Myth in Russian Foreign Policy," 7 p.m., Camden Library. Prof. Seth Singleton gives the free talk.
• "Tugboat Work & Seamanship," 7 p.m., Rockport Opera House's meeting room. Talk by Captain Ron Hawkins.

I like how you have to spend money to learn about "extreme savings".  Do you think you have to bring your own bee or bee hive to the bee class?  The tugboat event sounded interesting, but I think we missed it already.

Today was chore day - vacuum, rake leaves, mow the lawn (dare I hope for the last time this season?), clean up a couple of the garden beds and mulch.  Hard work, especially the raking.

I am getting ready to travel to Atlanta this coming week for Cachao's 8th birthday and birthday party, to which I received a handwritten personal invitation informing me to come in a Ninja costume, to bring a present and my invitation, and in so doing, I will be able to join a Ninja dance, have dinner and Ninja birthday cake and go trick-or-treating.  Sound like fun?  Photos to come post-trip.

MPBN - our local public radio station, sponsored a contest recently, asking the question "What to MPBN listeners look like?" - and asking listeners to take a photo of themselves listening to MPBN and send it in.  Many were posted on the MPBN website.  Here's the one I sent in:

I wish you bright autumn leaves, chilly nights, frosty mornings, and Peace.

The birthday of the world

Here we go, into the new (Jewish) year--5775.  Rosh HaShannah at the local synagogue was good--a smaller turn-out than last year when the holiday fell during Labor Day week and we appear to have had a number of "summer" people who stayed over and attended services.  But services were good and I found them meaningful.  On the second day, David and I were invited to lunch at the home of the former treasurer and her husband, whom we've begun to get to know and already like very much.  It was a big crowd, probably 75% of those who attended services on the second day, but hamish and much delicious food.  Now we turn toward Yom Kippur, which this year comes on a Saturday.  Perhaps that will bring out a larger crowd; who knows.  The synagogue will have a Break Fast, but I don't think I'll attend.  I find I need to go home and revive privately.

Two weeks ago the visiting rabbi came for Shabbat and on Friday night suggested we use poetry to dig into the meaning of the holidays.  He invited us to bring favorite poems or our own poems, and I brought a poem I wrote many, many years ago when I lived in New York.  Since I left New York in 1992, the poem must be at least 25 years old, probably more.  It arose from my surprise at finding that although during the year, synagogue Shabbat services would be attended by some number of people - perhaps 75-100, depending on what was going on - for the High Holidays (Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur), Jews would seem to come out of the woodwork and we might have 1,500 people attending services.  Here is the poem:

The Year Yom Kippur Came on Wednesday
 
we tumble from our beds our bellies growling
feet tramping through the halls and down
the stairs in canvas shoes so odd a match with

our best suits and bright skirts we dribble out to

sidewalks join in rivulets and merge in streams to

rush and pour into our sanctuaries where we stand

and sit and stand and fast as fast as hours pass in

prayer and penitence we beat our breasts confessing

lists of sins when we're not slipping out and in and

out again to catch the latest word on who's been

born and who passed on this year still finding time

to stir the lost sweet ache to weep to watch the

chazzan throw himself upon the floor become

a waterfall a woman's sobs white shredded clouds

in steeped blue skies each note a shard that

tears our hearts above our bended knees

at last the shofar blast we bow we leave to drink to eat
to laugh to weep to live and die again as
one by one each of us a single sheep passes by Him
unaware of what a miracle the Shepherd sees this Wednesday

October 12th will be the second anniversary of our move to Maine.  Every day I am happy we made that decision, my morning walks with Ella are a gift.  One recent morning:

May each person and every living thing on our world be sealed in the book of life for peace, for health, for prosperity in the year to come.  I have a feeling that would be okay with God--it's just us human beings that are likely to have an issue with it.  Still hope will not let go.  Stubbornly it sinks its frail roots into dry worn-out soil and hangs on, even in the face of the coming winter.  (300,000 people marched in New York City to warn of the perils of climate change.  When is the last time 300,000 people marched in this country for anything?) 

So, Happy Birthday, World.
If not us, who?  If not now, when?
Peace, peace, far and near.

So...

So ... I haven't posted lately because my computer is having troubles... again.  Same issue that came up around July 4th holiday weekend, being locked out and being told the password I enter isn't right.  Last time I called Apple Support and they walked me through sort of re-booting the system.  I haven't had time, or energy, to go through my personal desk to see if I (hopefully) took notes on the steps they walked me through.  If I didn't, my choices will be 1) calling Apple again (which means waiting on the phone 20-30 minutes and then, likely this time, paying money) or 2) taking the laptop to a local computer place, which also means money (and probably time).  There's a place around the corner from us that says it is an authorized Mac service place.  I just have been too demoralized to deal with it.  Since my iPod still works, I can see my personal email there; listen to music (at least the music already on the iPod) and listen to podcasts (which still automatically download).

Then this morning, I used David's computer to log on to my personal email (needed to use his computer just so I could capture a URL from eBay to send it to someone) and after I did that, he had problems logging in to eBay, so now I'm stressed that I somehow screwed up his computer.

But the bottom line is - f**king technology is taking over our lives, we come to "need" it and depend on it and get stressed and strung out if we can't use it when we want it.  Yesterday I got a marketing call from Time Warner, our internet, home phone and cable TV provider.  The woman wanted to tell me about a new "package" that would deliver "hundreds of movies" to me for just another $8 or $10 a month.  "I don't watch movies" I told the woman.  "Well, the package includes other entertainment options..." "I don't much care for 'entertainment,' I told her, "I barely care for Time Warner Cable."  So she gave up. 

That's the goal for next year, I think, when our "discounted" (if you can call it that) price for Time Warner's "triple play" package (internet, phone and cable tv---which was actually "cheaper" than buying only internet and phone) expires - get rid of cable TV, get rid of home phone (get MagicJack) and keep only internet from Time Warner (unless a better option comes along).

My next door neighbor doesn't have a computer.  She doesn't have internet.  She doesn't have cable TV.  She reads a lot.  She gardens.  She's not technologically illiterate.  At work she uses a computer, the Internet.  She watches movies on DVDs from the library.  She is a civilized person and, perhaps, my role model.

So that's what's going on.  I'm squeezing in this posting using another computer.  My next post may not be until my own laptop is repaired.  I am off to Connecticut next week for work and a check-up with my oncologist.  So I may not have time to deal with the computer until I return.

But don't worry.  I am here.  Ella and I continue to enjoy morning walks.  Fall is coming.  It makes Ella frisky. There is crispness in the air.  Northern and interior Maine have frost warnings in the evening.  Yesterday morning I forgot to bring Ella's ball with us on our walk. Down by the water where we stop and I usually throw the ball for her to chase, there's a pear tree. So I threw pears that had fallen on the ground, and Ella chased and returned them to me. What I found interesting was that she barely scratched the skin of the pear. A soft mouth. 

Rosh HaShannah - the Jewish New Year - approaches - the birthday of the world.  The day on which our tradition says that each of us, in fact, each living thing, the whole world, is judged for life... or for... 

I hope God is in a good mood, feeling lenient and more optimistic about humanity that I feel these days.  Otherwise, we may be in trouble...

Peace.