A Pup Story. One More Time.

It was one year ago today when she and I took a long ride through the countryside, just for the sake of one more time. I added several more miles to our usual route and also drove a bit slower, all to add a few more minutes of just one more time. She was weak from her years-long battle with cancer, but sat tall with stature and presence as she stared out the open window at every passing tree, signpost, and cloud. Unlike all of our many previous road trips, she took in every moment on that chilly morning. Everyone.

We slowly drove up the lane to our home, where her veterinarian met us.

I cried this morning. Not because today reminds me of a morning drive that we shared a year ago, but because I’m thankful for all of the unselfish strength Pita offered me. Like me, Pita expected order in our home. Her home... and she was dedicated to always keeping her siblings in line. After deciding I wanted to return to school, she sat with me in the quiet light of my home office during long hours and years of study. She had so much patience, helping me through not just one degree, but three. During those years, she was also the one closest to my side when I decided that sobriety was a necessity for me. She never once wavered. She was always there. Always.

That girl also had an impeccable taste in music, too. Or maybe it was her tolerance for my deep appreciation of the eclectic. We were always listening to music. Classic rock, jazz, cocktail lounge, country, not to mention all of those out-of-tune nights of guitar practice. She was good with all of it. Every moment. It was our time together, and we shared plenty of it.

I rescued Pita when she was a puppy, just a few weeks old. Her Dumbo sized, pointy ears outlined and framed her bright eyes. Those ears pointed straight up to the sky. In time, she would finally grow into those pretty ears. Rescuing her and placing her small, round puppy belly on the truck seat on that hot, dusty August afternoon is one of the best things I have ever done.

Life’s path always provides a remarkable way of healing. I recently committed to donating my skills to assist with a non-profit dog rescue organization. This coming weekend, I'm jumping back in my truck to volunteer time and miles for a transportation run to drive a rescued senior pup from a kennel in Georgia to his loving Forever Home in northern Virginia. I have always been a believer in second chances, and I do not doubt that Pita would graciously approve of this weekend's road trip. One more time.

Keep running, pretty girl. I am.

A Wish for the World

Christmas Eve is here. Here is Ocho Rios, Jamaica. Instead of preparing my traditional fare of holiday aromas and deliciousness for the family, I'm sitting in a relaxing leather chair with dark wood armrests, atop the crow's nest of the M.S. Zuiderdam.

The room is filled with plenty of suntanned faces I've never seen before. With a joyful announcement from the bar at the other end of the room that two-for-one happy hour specials are now in effect, several faces look even happier than they had minutes ago. I, too, am happy.... and sober. My tall glass of iced water is sweating on the wet and wrinkled cocktail napkin beneath it. In six days, I'll be toasting my 7th anniversary of sobriety. I may even get fancy on that day by adding a lemon slice to my water glass.

From the looks of the room, as we leave the port and head in the direction of the sunset, tall sweating glasses of iced water are the only thing that don't quite qualify for the two-for-one festivity. Seems they're even void of the complementary bowl of mixed nuts. Still, with the singing laughter coming from the bar, I raise my glass with a festive cheer and a smile that is all mine.

Bon Voyage, Merry Christmas, and Peace for a world that could use more than its share of two-for-one servings of love as we close out this year and begin 2017. Do whatever you can to make a difference in someone's day, even if only to share an eye-to-eye smile with a stranger. Open your arms... the world could use a hug. Love to all.

Farewell Token With a Wink

Blackstar

Just as it does each morning, my alarm woke me at 5AM. Lying in bed on that Monday morning, just before my feet hit the cool floor, I laid in the dark while reading the message in my day's first email. In an emotional awe, I again read and reread the short email over and over, "Have you heard the news about the passing of an absolute genius and legend?"  I was stunned.  Just hours after I had spent most of the weekend listening to several albums from his classic library, David Bowie was dead.

David Bowie's Blackstar album arrived in the mail yesterday afternoon. This morning I carefully unwrapped the cellophane from the CD and paired it with a fresh cup of coffee for my 6AM commute. I was not disappointed. Blackstar is an album of incredible artistic integrity, beauty, voice, and pure creative experimentation. Plenty has been written following the news of Bowie’s passing about this being his planned farewell gift to his fans. In hindsight, Blackstar certainly plays out in that fashion, and it does so as only Bowie could deliver with genius vision and originality. Blackstar is a masterpiece.

My long commute was nearly the same length as the cd. As I was nearing the campus-parking garage, I noticed the car a good distance in front of me, wondering if what I thought I saw really was. With the red traffic light ahead, I closed the gap between that car and mine. Just as I was the week before, I found myself in awe once again before the sun had a chance to rise. It turns out that my distance vision hadn’t played tricks on me after all. Reading the license plate, I shook my head in disbelief, turned up the music just a bit more, and smiled.

Tokens are gifts. Thank you, Starman.

Ziggy