With a recent family event, a sexual predator has been added to the family tree. He thought it was ok to have a "relationship" with a 13 yr old girl. He was 33 years old. He went to prison, finished his parole, and is now a god-fearing citizen again.
I have personal experience with a sexual predator. I sent his sorry ass to jail for 40 years. Because of my personal experience, I feel no need to be sociably acceptable to another predator, even if he has paid his "debt" to society. Wonder how that 13 year old girl is doing. It worries me more that he is around children. I actually have quite bit to say to his ex felon for being a child sexual predator face.
I have had the opportunity to face evil and call it out for what it is. "My" guy had been at it for 12 years. He would get caught, be given parole and leave the state for new hunting grounds in another state. When they caught him on my watch, all hell broke loose. He was arraigned as a sexual predator and because he was a good boy and had told the state of Virginia he was a sexual predator, the judge let him walk for $3,000 bail. He walked all the way to Atlanta Georgia, where he conveniently hopped a plane to Guatemala.
I called the Governor's office, talked to the Washington Post and was interviewed by NBC News when we learned he left the country. I had three different police jurisdictions, the State Department and the US Marshall's Service involved. And we got him in a slum in Guatemala.
I went to visit "my" guy in jail before his sentencing. I had something to say to him and by god, I was going to say it. Having never been to jail, it was insane. I was given a locker with a key I left with the front desk for anything I had in my pockets and a number to retrieve it. I had to take an elevator up to the jail. When I got off the elevator, I had to give my pass to someone behind very dark glass who directed me by microphone to proceed to an open cubicle.
There I was in a space that wide enough to only fit 2 small plastic chairs, bulletproof glass, a telephone and a long wait. It felt like hours before they finally brought him in, in chains. He saw me and smiled. That was all it took. Pick up the damn phone you piece of shit I said. You are going to sit down, shut up and listen to me. You are going to rot in prison and its because of me and my family. We got you. Our faces are going to haunt you every day for the rest of your sorry life and I am happy you will only get to see the sun through a cage.
He tried to call the sheriff to come rescue him, but I was already done. My "speech" was barely a minute, but I said what I had come to say. I don't even know if the sheriff came to rescue the pervert from me. I hope he was enjoying the dialogue. I was able to get up and walk out of there. He was going to hell and the ride couldn't be bumpy enough for me. Those were the absolute scariest and most empowering moments of my life. We got him. We stopped him. And I was walking out of the building feeling a sense of closure.
The whole predator dad issue is bringing back some of the rage that kept me pushing for justice. The predator dad, who supposedly can't leave the state of Washington is "family" now and in Montana. I wonder if Montana and Washington know that? It would be an inconvenience if he were busted in Montana for leaving the state of Washington, wouldn't it.
Predators will always be the nicest guy in the room, but they are scoping that room out, looking for whatever perversion gets him off. Predators do not change, even after being "rehabilitated, serving his time and is a god fearing citizen once again."
Friday, May 18, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
We Can't Afford You
Do you put a price on your worth? Is it based on looks, charm and personality? Or is it based on experience and what you can add to a company?
Personally, I could never trade on my good looks, charm and personality. I can trade on my experience as a good employee.
In the last six years, my experience has been (a) horrible, but most importantly I have learned that employers don't want good employees. They don't necessarily have to qualify what they want in a good employee and by osmosis the employee should be able to figure it out. Not whining, just observing. I've had a lot of opportunity to observe.
I was laid off today because the company couldn't afford me. For $10/hr. The gory details are just drama, but I will say this sucks. This scary sucks.
Personally, I could never trade on my good looks, charm and personality. I can trade on my experience as a good employee.
In the last six years, my experience has been (a) horrible, but most importantly I have learned that employers don't want good employees. They don't necessarily have to qualify what they want in a good employee and by osmosis the employee should be able to figure it out. Not whining, just observing. I've had a lot of opportunity to observe.
I was laid off today because the company couldn't afford me. For $10/hr. The gory details are just drama, but I will say this sucks. This scary sucks.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Forgiveness
For the past 10 days, Jews around the world have celebrated Rosh Hoshanna and Yom Kippur, the High Holy Days. Rosh Hoshanna ushers in the new year on the Jewish calendar. Yom Kippur is the big one, the Day of Atonement. Yom Kippur is the 28 hours, beginning at sundown, of fasting and praying for the all of yours and the world's, sins to be erased. A very intense way to spend 28 hours.
Yom Kippur is the day you stand before God and ask for forgiveness for all your indiscretions throughout the previous year. Most of us ask for forgiveness for things such as using God's name in vain (guilty) to lewdness (most times not guilty). The main theme of Yom Kippur is forgiveness from God and God allowing you to forgive for yourself for doing these bad things. By forgiving yourself, and being forgiven, you can move on with your life until the next time you stand before God.
I am all about forgiving. I can easily forgive an unkind word or action, given time. Jews have long memories. Forgiveness is most difficult when there has been a pain inflicted of such magnitude, that forgiving the evil responsible seems impossible.
Evil is one thing I take issue with regarding forgiveness. Have the Jews really forgiven the Romans for destroying the Temple or the Nazi's for trying to wipe us out? Is forgiveness the outcome of long memories - Never Forget, but forgive?
I had a run-in with pure evil over 15 years ago. I have been forgiven by those closest to me for allowing evil into our lives, but I have not forgiven the evil. Today I realized I must forgive the evil so that I can forgive myself. God has forgiven me, of that I am sure. I don't believe this sort of evil is forgiveable, therefore I will carry this for the rest of my life. I will find myself standing before God on an annual basis, unable to forgive.
Evil got its day in court and will only see sunlight from a cage for the next 20 years. Evil will get its time before God, or in Hell, most likely. I can say that we stopped evil from affecting anyone else and 40 years in a cage is a long time. The cost, however, is enormous and life-changing. I cannot find it in my heart to forgive evil.
I believe in a lot of things. God, a Great Spirit, Mother Nature. God is hard to believe in because he asks so much of you. Only eat certain foods. Light the candles for the Sabbath weekly and bring God into your life three times a day. Mother Nature on the other hand, is God in female form, one who brings harmony and an appreciation of her beauty and her fury into life on a daily basis. There is beauty in birth and death and rebirth. There is no beauty in evil.
Yom Kippur is the day you stand before God and ask for forgiveness for all your indiscretions throughout the previous year. Most of us ask for forgiveness for things such as using God's name in vain (guilty) to lewdness (most times not guilty). The main theme of Yom Kippur is forgiveness from God and God allowing you to forgive for yourself for doing these bad things. By forgiving yourself, and being forgiven, you can move on with your life until the next time you stand before God.
I am all about forgiving. I can easily forgive an unkind word or action, given time. Jews have long memories. Forgiveness is most difficult when there has been a pain inflicted of such magnitude, that forgiving the evil responsible seems impossible.
Evil is one thing I take issue with regarding forgiveness. Have the Jews really forgiven the Romans for destroying the Temple or the Nazi's for trying to wipe us out? Is forgiveness the outcome of long memories - Never Forget, but forgive?
I had a run-in with pure evil over 15 years ago. I have been forgiven by those closest to me for allowing evil into our lives, but I have not forgiven the evil. Today I realized I must forgive the evil so that I can forgive myself. God has forgiven me, of that I am sure. I don't believe this sort of evil is forgiveable, therefore I will carry this for the rest of my life. I will find myself standing before God on an annual basis, unable to forgive.
Evil got its day in court and will only see sunlight from a cage for the next 20 years. Evil will get its time before God, or in Hell, most likely. I can say that we stopped evil from affecting anyone else and 40 years in a cage is a long time. The cost, however, is enormous and life-changing. I cannot find it in my heart to forgive evil.
I believe in a lot of things. God, a Great Spirit, Mother Nature. God is hard to believe in because he asks so much of you. Only eat certain foods. Light the candles for the Sabbath weekly and bring God into your life three times a day. Mother Nature on the other hand, is God in female form, one who brings harmony and an appreciation of her beauty and her fury into life on a daily basis. There is beauty in birth and death and rebirth. There is no beauty in evil.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Maybe Someday.
Since moving to Montana, I have survived really cold weather, feet of snow on the ground for months, grey skies and being "laid off" or fired from 5, count'em, jobs in the last two years. Two years. I began my career in Livingston at the top of the heap, running a start-up nonprofit, being a professional peer to the City Manager of Livingston, and ending up with a $10 hour job as a receptionist.
Why? is the question of the day. What is is about my work habits, my appearance, my attitude that pisses people off enough to "let me go", thereby taking away my ability to earn a barely livable wage and keep a roof over my head? Anyone who had money riding on just how long it would take me to lose yet another job just hit the lottery. I have managed, in less than 3 weeks, to piss off enough people that they want me gone. In three weeks.
Ask people who know me why this is happening and the answer is always the same: I have a strong personality, and I don't know how to be pond scum. I am intimidating because.... why? I am a leader. I have ideas. I take Initiative. I am dependable, never late, work hard, trustworthy. I see something that might be tweaked to be better, and that is not looked upon with a smile and a nod. I ask questions because I'm interested, not because I want someone else's job. I'm happy to be employed for christ's sake. I don't care what the fucking job title is. Executive Director or Receptionist, I do my job with integrity.
My latest job was to be the front desk person, answering phones, dealing with the public and running interference for the sales people and program directors. Theother part of the job was to input advertising informatiom into a database that I was not familiar with and pick it up within a day, I guess. Learn a new program in 2 weeks, learn everyone's name and job by osmosis because no one was actually telling me their name and where they were in the pecking order as well as hand hand out prizes to contest winners. Not too difficult, hmm? Anyone should be able to pick this up and do an ok job at it.
The problem is an ok job is not good enough for me. You can put the girl in the west, but you can't take the east coast mentality out of her.
I got fired yesterday, less than a month after I started. The HR manager was kind enough to fire me and then give me a ride home, 30 miles to Livingston. She told me I could use her as a reference as I was escorted to my desk to clear it out. I cannot claim unemployment insurance because I was FIRED within the 90 day probation period. Fired.
I've been told I have a "strong" personality and should have kept my head down and not try to take initiatve by saying for example to the GM, "if you'd like me to screen your mail, (because I distribute the mail), I am happy to do it". His answer was a curt no and to basically back off. I should have just answered the phones, learned the database, and not try to streamline processes within my job that didn't make sense to me and would make things easier. I was there to answer phones, be pleasant and learn radio traffic management in three weeks. I am pleasant, and I give good phone.
The sales people hated me. I dropped one call because the front desk phone was screwed up and I couldn't tell which line was ringing when I was on another call. 2 weeks ago. One phone call. That meant that I was losing the company business. I asked a lot of questions because I have never worked in radio and I was interested. The sales people felt that I was after their jobs. The clients loved me, whether on the phone or in person. That didn't seem to matter. What mattered was I was thinking outside of my job to the "bigger" picture and that's not what they wanted.
They wanted someone who doesn't give a shit, doesn't want to do more than what the job description said and someone for whom this was just a job to fill eight hours a day. That has never been me. I did not misrepresent myself in the interview. What you see is what you get with me. I don't make claims or promises about things I don't think I can follow through on. They hired that person and then fired this person because the person they hired, was not what they wanted. Even though they hired me for the qualities I could bring to the job as I presented myself in the interview which got me the job in the first place.
I have worked for over 35 years. I've been working since I was 15 years old. I've lost jobs in the past as many of us have. I have never, in over 35 years, had a 2 year run of such bad luck and bad judgement on my part. My friends tell me its because I am perceived as intimidating. I don't want to be perceived as intimidating. I don't walk into a room and expect my ass kissed. I have worked hard for the person I've become and feel that I have earned the right to be that person. I am not willing to "change" for anyone or anything. I'm not 25 years old and easily pliable any longer. These scars and bruises each have a story.
Smart and capable are bad words out here. I'm speechless. I have enough experience under my belt to figure out pretty quickly what the playground looks like and who the players are. At least I thought so. I must be a glutton for punishment because I am not going anywhere. Montana is home. Jeff & I have a life here in big sky country. We have good friends. He owns a business. And I'm stubborn.
Maybe Someday by Rob Thomas is my new theme song. You want to run me out of here? Good luck with that.
Why? is the question of the day. What is is about my work habits, my appearance, my attitude that pisses people off enough to "let me go", thereby taking away my ability to earn a barely livable wage and keep a roof over my head? Anyone who had money riding on just how long it would take me to lose yet another job just hit the lottery. I have managed, in less than 3 weeks, to piss off enough people that they want me gone. In three weeks.
Ask people who know me why this is happening and the answer is always the same: I have a strong personality, and I don't know how to be pond scum. I am intimidating because.... why? I am a leader. I have ideas. I take Initiative. I am dependable, never late, work hard, trustworthy. I see something that might be tweaked to be better, and that is not looked upon with a smile and a nod. I ask questions because I'm interested, not because I want someone else's job. I'm happy to be employed for christ's sake. I don't care what the fucking job title is. Executive Director or Receptionist, I do my job with integrity.
My latest job was to be the front desk person, answering phones, dealing with the public and running interference for the sales people and program directors. Theother part of the job was to input advertising informatiom into a database that I was not familiar with and pick it up within a day, I guess. Learn a new program in 2 weeks, learn everyone's name and job by osmosis because no one was actually telling me their name and where they were in the pecking order as well as hand hand out prizes to contest winners. Not too difficult, hmm? Anyone should be able to pick this up and do an ok job at it.
The problem is an ok job is not good enough for me. You can put the girl in the west, but you can't take the east coast mentality out of her.
I got fired yesterday, less than a month after I started. The HR manager was kind enough to fire me and then give me a ride home, 30 miles to Livingston. She told me I could use her as a reference as I was escorted to my desk to clear it out. I cannot claim unemployment insurance because I was FIRED within the 90 day probation period. Fired.
I've been told I have a "strong" personality and should have kept my head down and not try to take initiatve by saying for example to the GM, "if you'd like me to screen your mail, (because I distribute the mail), I am happy to do it". His answer was a curt no and to basically back off. I should have just answered the phones, learned the database, and not try to streamline processes within my job that didn't make sense to me and would make things easier. I was there to answer phones, be pleasant and learn radio traffic management in three weeks. I am pleasant, and I give good phone.
The sales people hated me. I dropped one call because the front desk phone was screwed up and I couldn't tell which line was ringing when I was on another call. 2 weeks ago. One phone call. That meant that I was losing the company business. I asked a lot of questions because I have never worked in radio and I was interested. The sales people felt that I was after their jobs. The clients loved me, whether on the phone or in person. That didn't seem to matter. What mattered was I was thinking outside of my job to the "bigger" picture and that's not what they wanted.
They wanted someone who doesn't give a shit, doesn't want to do more than what the job description said and someone for whom this was just a job to fill eight hours a day. That has never been me. I did not misrepresent myself in the interview. What you see is what you get with me. I don't make claims or promises about things I don't think I can follow through on. They hired that person and then fired this person because the person they hired, was not what they wanted. Even though they hired me for the qualities I could bring to the job as I presented myself in the interview which got me the job in the first place.
I have worked for over 35 years. I've been working since I was 15 years old. I've lost jobs in the past as many of us have. I have never, in over 35 years, had a 2 year run of such bad luck and bad judgement on my part. My friends tell me its because I am perceived as intimidating. I don't want to be perceived as intimidating. I don't walk into a room and expect my ass kissed. I have worked hard for the person I've become and feel that I have earned the right to be that person. I am not willing to "change" for anyone or anything. I'm not 25 years old and easily pliable any longer. These scars and bruises each have a story.
Smart and capable are bad words out here. I'm speechless. I have enough experience under my belt to figure out pretty quickly what the playground looks like and who the players are. At least I thought so. I must be a glutton for punishment because I am not going anywhere. Montana is home. Jeff & I have a life here in big sky country. We have good friends. He owns a business. And I'm stubborn.
Maybe Someday by Rob Thomas is my new theme song. You want to run me out of here? Good luck with that.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
22 Acres and a Chicken Coop
We are in the midst of deciding whether we should weather it out going over Bozeman Pass every day in the winter, or move closer to Bozo or Belgrade. We love living in Livingston. We know almost everyone and have good friends here. L-Town is a cool little Montana town and quirky as hell. We have cowboys, neon lights on old buildings and wind.
We love our house. It's got its issues but it has character and we started our life together here. We are outgrowing it because both of us love to collect things. Jeff brings home these pieces of electronic equipment and is happy as a pig in dirt. I can tinker with it he says. And it sits wherever he has put it, and gathers dust. I try to make sure his electronic toys remain in the man cave. We definitly deserve each other but we are outgrowing this house.
All Jeff has to do is mention something, and I'm on it. Mention moving and I get excited about a new place to put my stuff. Yet, this time I haven't felt that excited about moving until I found it. An ad for a house up Trail Creek (Crick) Road. 22 acres and a chicken coop. Then my heart started racing. I'm in Montana, this is how it should be. 22 acres and a chicken coop. And horses. Maybe some goats. A couple more dogs wouldn't hurt either.
The house sounds like it is primarily off the grid and was built by the people who own it. Woodstoves to heat, propane to cook and heat water, a spring and a well. I didn't think to ask whether they have electricity up there. Maybe I shouldn't assume. I want to live Montana, but I do like electricity. Half mile of unmaintained dirt road to the house. The owner told me it wasn't so bad in the winter; you have to have 4 wheel drive, and drive over it enough, and you're good to go. I asked her if the driveway was on a slope and she said not much of one. I think I am a bit worried about that 1/2 mile of dirt road in the winter.
None of this makes good sense for us and we both know it. But I love the idea of 22 acres and a chicken coop and a house that's heated by wood stoves. She said they don't have any curtains up because they are at least a mile from anything and who wouldn't want to scare the critters on a nightly basis? There would be critters: bear, mountain lion, elk, moose. Big critters.
22 acres and a chicken coop. I could do this.
We love our house. It's got its issues but it has character and we started our life together here. We are outgrowing it because both of us love to collect things. Jeff brings home these pieces of electronic equipment and is happy as a pig in dirt. I can tinker with it he says. And it sits wherever he has put it, and gathers dust. I try to make sure his electronic toys remain in the man cave. We definitly deserve each other but we are outgrowing this house.
All Jeff has to do is mention something, and I'm on it. Mention moving and I get excited about a new place to put my stuff. Yet, this time I haven't felt that excited about moving until I found it. An ad for a house up Trail Creek (Crick) Road. 22 acres and a chicken coop. Then my heart started racing. I'm in Montana, this is how it should be. 22 acres and a chicken coop. And horses. Maybe some goats. A couple more dogs wouldn't hurt either.
The house sounds like it is primarily off the grid and was built by the people who own it. Woodstoves to heat, propane to cook and heat water, a spring and a well. I didn't think to ask whether they have electricity up there. Maybe I shouldn't assume. I want to live Montana, but I do like electricity. Half mile of unmaintained dirt road to the house. The owner told me it wasn't so bad in the winter; you have to have 4 wheel drive, and drive over it enough, and you're good to go. I asked her if the driveway was on a slope and she said not much of one. I think I am a bit worried about that 1/2 mile of dirt road in the winter.
None of this makes good sense for us and we both know it. But I love the idea of 22 acres and a chicken coop and a house that's heated by wood stoves. She said they don't have any curtains up because they are at least a mile from anything and who wouldn't want to scare the critters on a nightly basis? There would be critters: bear, mountain lion, elk, moose. Big critters.
22 acres and a chicken coop. I could do this.
Friday, September 16, 2011
The Bestest Dog In The Whole Wide World
On the one year anniversary of losing the bestest dog in the whole world, I am reflecting on our life together with a smile. People would look at him and ask, what kind of dog is he? I'd always respond that he's about 15 different breeds and looks like a big old gateway computer box having a bad hair day. Georgie had hair going every which way. Some unkind people would say he wasn't the handsomest dog they had ever seen, but to me, Georgie was handsome and an old soul.
We met in 2001 in Cortez Colorado. A guy named J-Bear had a large storage unit where he was fostering pups. We followed up an ad for a pup who was part Chow I think and made the 100 mile trip to Cortez to meet him. The original pup wasn't for us, but there was George. I asked J-Bear what his story was. He told me someone had abandoned him in Toac on the Ute Reservation. Georgie was laying around in the sun, not paying much attention to anything. We were looking for a pup to go hiking and camping with. When we asked about Georgie (back then his name was Buddy), J-Bear told us that's all he did was lay around in the sun. Probably wouldn't make a good hiking dog he said. We didn't care. It was love at first sight. When I offered to pay for him, J-Bear turned me down. When I offered to at least give him a donation for dog food, he turned me down again. All J-Bear wanted was a good home for Georgie and he knew we were Georgie's people. We think George was about 2 years old when we became his people.
I believe critters will tell you what their name is. Buddy did not fit. On the 100 mile drive back to Blanding, my son and I bounced names around. At one point Ralph came up however I couldn't name a dog after my grandfather. Then we hit on George. He was the perfect George. George was always calm, and never used his voice. It took me almost a year to get him to eat people food. What dog doesn't like eggs and cheese mixed in their kibble? Georgie didn't know what to make of the good stuff. Once he figured it out though, I'd get the "look" and he always got the last bite of whatever I was eating. How can you turn down a face like that?
Every morning, Georgie and I would go for a hike in Westwater Canyon. We'd see mule deer and rabbits and lovely sunrises. I never needed to keep Georgie on the lead; we had the trail to ourselves and he would run 100 feet ahead, stop, look back to make sure I was still there, and turn around and keep going. There wasn't much grass in the desert, but the building I worked in was surrounded by grass, and that dog would roll around in the grass happy as a pig in dirt.
Georgie hiked the rocks with us at Chaco Canyon. Chaco Canyon is at the end of 25 miles of really bad road and we had gone to see the sun dagger for summer solstice. We couldn't see the dagger because the sky was filled with smoke from the fires outside of Durango Colorado, over 100 miles away. That night we camped. The wind came up and I swear we should have found ourselves in Kansas in the morning, it was so strong. It rained dirt and sand on us all night long. Georgie had the best seat in the house because we put him in the truck for the night. At least He got some sleep that night! J-Bear was wrong about George-he loved to hike and climb and run. Georgie became the VISTA mascot. Everyone loved him, especially me.
After my VISTA tour was over, we headed to Farmington New Mexico, where Georgie became the Downtown Dog. His picture was on almost every piece of promotional material I put out. He would come to work with me, in the office or during any of the many events I worked on while I was there. Everyone loved him.
George has ridden across the country and back with me twice. He loved to load up and go, just like his momma. George wasn't afraid of anything, or anybody. He was 85 lbs of puppy love and hair. He was allowed on any piece of furniture I had, but would not sleep on the bed with me. He would when I wasn't there though. I think he was just warming it up for me. Someone once told me George wouldn't sleep on the bed because he was my "first line of defense", protecting me should somone try to come into the house who didn't belong. George was a large dog with a larger heart and soul. I doubt he would bite anyone, but I also believe he would if he had to.
As we made our way to Montana in 2007, we stopped at a rest stop somewhere in Wyoming. A skeezy guy walked up to me, looked at George and asked does he bite? Only if he has to, I replied. The guy walked away. I believe George saved me from something bad that day.
Dogs are great judges of character. When we met Jeff, Georgie fell in love with him. I am not sure who loved the other more. Everytime Jeff would come home, Georgie would start his happy dance. Jeff would start his loving on Georgie routine, and I would sit back and smile. Love me, love my dog. I seemed to have competition for Jeff's affection with the dog but it didn't matter.
It gets cold in big sky country, and each winter seemed a bit harder on George. He loved the snow and his fur would catch ice balls after a walk. He loved his walks. When it did snow, George would bounce through the drifts and dig his nose ito the snow to find something interesting. The hair I would get off him when I brushed him would fill 2 plastic grocery bags. Georgie was known for his hair. It was everywhere. I would tell people who visit that they would leave with dog hair souveniers all over their clothes. There weren't many people who chose not to come to visit because of the dog hair.
As Georgie got older, his eyesight got worse, his hearing got worse and his teeth were not good. One day I was standing outside when the postman came by to deliver the mail. Georgie was standing right next to me, and the next thing I hear is "shit!" What?!? I asked the mail carrier. Your dog just bit me he said. What?? George has never bitten anyone and I was standing right there. George in fact did bit the postman. Thankfully he didn't break any skin, but it was a sign that he wasn't aware of who or what was going on around him. The mail carrier was such a great guy and I felt horrible about it. When I ran into him downtown a few days later, I apologized again, and he told me "just don't put him down" because of what he did. Put him down?? Are you kidding me? We were doing everything we could to keep the old man happy and healthy. I assured the mail carrier that would not happen.
As Georgie got older, the cold was harder for him to bear. His old joints were hurting and it stays cold for 9 months out here. Towards the end, I had him on some major pain medication. He had became incontinent and I would find him laying in his own poop. He didn't even know he had done it. Jeff and I talked for almost a year about what we should do. We knew what we had to do, but both of us wanted Georgie to make the decision for us. I had George with me every day and could see his health declining. Jeff was in denial. Then Jeff went on a fire for 2 weeks, and when he got home, he finally saw what I had been seeing. I was happy cleaning poop up just to keep that dog around for as long as possible, but at that point, it became a quality of life issue for Georgie. Would you want to sleep in your own poop and not be able to move around easily?
On a clear, Indian summer day in September, our vet, Dr. Lindsay, came to the house to help us help Georgie across the rainbow bridge. He was in my arms, in the grass he loved so much. We knew he would not make it through another harsh Montana winter. I picked at least 500lbs of river rock and we buried Georgie the Wonderdog at our friend Chuck's ranch, in the shadow of a juniper tree, with a view of the Absorkee Mountains.
A bunch of our friends were there as we buried the bestest dog in the whole world and began toasting his life with a bottle of Jack. Ok, I began toasting his life, and kept on toasting until the bottle was gone. I have never been so sick as I was the next day from what I swear was alcohol poisioning. At one point during the wake, I ended up on my butt on the kitchen floor, barely missing a sharp object with my head. All I remember is looking up seeing all these people peering down at me making sure I was still alive. I was, sort of.
The bestest dog in the whole wide world deserved a wake like that one. The bestest dog in the whole wide world will always remain in my heart and bring a smile to my face whenever I think of him. Animal's people are the lucky ones, even if it is only for a short time. Georgie the Wonderdog was at least 11 years old, if not 13 years old. He lived a good, long life in a family that adored him. We should all be so lucky.
God bless Georgie. I know he is running after bunnies or rolling around in the clover on the other side, hopefully waitng for me. The bestest dog in the whole wide world he was.
We met in 2001 in Cortez Colorado. A guy named J-Bear had a large storage unit where he was fostering pups. We followed up an ad for a pup who was part Chow I think and made the 100 mile trip to Cortez to meet him. The original pup wasn't for us, but there was George. I asked J-Bear what his story was. He told me someone had abandoned him in Toac on the Ute Reservation. Georgie was laying around in the sun, not paying much attention to anything. We were looking for a pup to go hiking and camping with. When we asked about Georgie (back then his name was Buddy), J-Bear told us that's all he did was lay around in the sun. Probably wouldn't make a good hiking dog he said. We didn't care. It was love at first sight. When I offered to pay for him, J-Bear turned me down. When I offered to at least give him a donation for dog food, he turned me down again. All J-Bear wanted was a good home for Georgie and he knew we were Georgie's people. We think George was about 2 years old when we became his people.
I believe critters will tell you what their name is. Buddy did not fit. On the 100 mile drive back to Blanding, my son and I bounced names around. At one point Ralph came up however I couldn't name a dog after my grandfather. Then we hit on George. He was the perfect George. George was always calm, and never used his voice. It took me almost a year to get him to eat people food. What dog doesn't like eggs and cheese mixed in their kibble? Georgie didn't know what to make of the good stuff. Once he figured it out though, I'd get the "look" and he always got the last bite of whatever I was eating. How can you turn down a face like that?
Every morning, Georgie and I would go for a hike in Westwater Canyon. We'd see mule deer and rabbits and lovely sunrises. I never needed to keep Georgie on the lead; we had the trail to ourselves and he would run 100 feet ahead, stop, look back to make sure I was still there, and turn around and keep going. There wasn't much grass in the desert, but the building I worked in was surrounded by grass, and that dog would roll around in the grass happy as a pig in dirt.
Georgie hiked the rocks with us at Chaco Canyon. Chaco Canyon is at the end of 25 miles of really bad road and we had gone to see the sun dagger for summer solstice. We couldn't see the dagger because the sky was filled with smoke from the fires outside of Durango Colorado, over 100 miles away. That night we camped. The wind came up and I swear we should have found ourselves in Kansas in the morning, it was so strong. It rained dirt and sand on us all night long. Georgie had the best seat in the house because we put him in the truck for the night. At least He got some sleep that night! J-Bear was wrong about George-he loved to hike and climb and run. Georgie became the VISTA mascot. Everyone loved him, especially me.
After my VISTA tour was over, we headed to Farmington New Mexico, where Georgie became the Downtown Dog. His picture was on almost every piece of promotional material I put out. He would come to work with me, in the office or during any of the many events I worked on while I was there. Everyone loved him.
George has ridden across the country and back with me twice. He loved to load up and go, just like his momma. George wasn't afraid of anything, or anybody. He was 85 lbs of puppy love and hair. He was allowed on any piece of furniture I had, but would not sleep on the bed with me. He would when I wasn't there though. I think he was just warming it up for me. Someone once told me George wouldn't sleep on the bed because he was my "first line of defense", protecting me should somone try to come into the house who didn't belong. George was a large dog with a larger heart and soul. I doubt he would bite anyone, but I also believe he would if he had to.
As we made our way to Montana in 2007, we stopped at a rest stop somewhere in Wyoming. A skeezy guy walked up to me, looked at George and asked does he bite? Only if he has to, I replied. The guy walked away. I believe George saved me from something bad that day.
Dogs are great judges of character. When we met Jeff, Georgie fell in love with him. I am not sure who loved the other more. Everytime Jeff would come home, Georgie would start his happy dance. Jeff would start his loving on Georgie routine, and I would sit back and smile. Love me, love my dog. I seemed to have competition for Jeff's affection with the dog but it didn't matter.
It gets cold in big sky country, and each winter seemed a bit harder on George. He loved the snow and his fur would catch ice balls after a walk. He loved his walks. When it did snow, George would bounce through the drifts and dig his nose ito the snow to find something interesting. The hair I would get off him when I brushed him would fill 2 plastic grocery bags. Georgie was known for his hair. It was everywhere. I would tell people who visit that they would leave with dog hair souveniers all over their clothes. There weren't many people who chose not to come to visit because of the dog hair.
As Georgie got older, his eyesight got worse, his hearing got worse and his teeth were not good. One day I was standing outside when the postman came by to deliver the mail. Georgie was standing right next to me, and the next thing I hear is "shit!" What?!? I asked the mail carrier. Your dog just bit me he said. What?? George has never bitten anyone and I was standing right there. George in fact did bit the postman. Thankfully he didn't break any skin, but it was a sign that he wasn't aware of who or what was going on around him. The mail carrier was such a great guy and I felt horrible about it. When I ran into him downtown a few days later, I apologized again, and he told me "just don't put him down" because of what he did. Put him down?? Are you kidding me? We were doing everything we could to keep the old man happy and healthy. I assured the mail carrier that would not happen.
As Georgie got older, the cold was harder for him to bear. His old joints were hurting and it stays cold for 9 months out here. Towards the end, I had him on some major pain medication. He had became incontinent and I would find him laying in his own poop. He didn't even know he had done it. Jeff and I talked for almost a year about what we should do. We knew what we had to do, but both of us wanted Georgie to make the decision for us. I had George with me every day and could see his health declining. Jeff was in denial. Then Jeff went on a fire for 2 weeks, and when he got home, he finally saw what I had been seeing. I was happy cleaning poop up just to keep that dog around for as long as possible, but at that point, it became a quality of life issue for Georgie. Would you want to sleep in your own poop and not be able to move around easily?
On a clear, Indian summer day in September, our vet, Dr. Lindsay, came to the house to help us help Georgie across the rainbow bridge. He was in my arms, in the grass he loved so much. We knew he would not make it through another harsh Montana winter. I picked at least 500lbs of river rock and we buried Georgie the Wonderdog at our friend Chuck's ranch, in the shadow of a juniper tree, with a view of the Absorkee Mountains.
A bunch of our friends were there as we buried the bestest dog in the whole world and began toasting his life with a bottle of Jack. Ok, I began toasting his life, and kept on toasting until the bottle was gone. I have never been so sick as I was the next day from what I swear was alcohol poisioning. At one point during the wake, I ended up on my butt on the kitchen floor, barely missing a sharp object with my head. All I remember is looking up seeing all these people peering down at me making sure I was still alive. I was, sort of.
The bestest dog in the whole wide world deserved a wake like that one. The bestest dog in the whole wide world will always remain in my heart and bring a smile to my face whenever I think of him. Animal's people are the lucky ones, even if it is only for a short time. Georgie the Wonderdog was at least 11 years old, if not 13 years old. He lived a good, long life in a family that adored him. We should all be so lucky.
God bless Georgie. I know he is running after bunnies or rolling around in the clover on the other side, hopefully waitng for me. The bestest dog in the whole wide world he was.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Getting My Groove Back
Back in the day, I was involved up to my eyeballs in anything musical or event oriented. I was out, a lot. I knew the hot bands. I booked hot bands. I hired hot bands. Now I've scored this terrific job at a radio station, and all I can say is I'm tired, and the idea of going anywhere in Bozo after 5pm only means that I still have a 30 mile drive home. When did that happen?
I tried to be a party DJ once. It didn't take long for me to realize that I hated the music I was playing and I don't care how well you think you do at public speaking, talking through the music breaks at a loud gig is hard. When I was a kid, I used to think the DJs on the radio box actually lived in the box. When I was a kid.
I'm very musical but not the least bit talented. I loved working with the band Hey Norton, managing them. They were a great group of guys who all had "real" jobs, and took their music very seriously. R&B mostly, with sax and harp playing. Loved those guys. It worked out great for everyone. I was single and don't like going to bars by myself, and here I am with the boys who are keeping an eye on me and I'm filling rooms with their great music. Well, filling rooms may be a stretch when there are only 10 tables, but its a gig. A paying gig.
I learned two very important band managing lessons: first, the BAND is the one that brings people in. Our very first gig was at a little biker bar and she wanted to give us a Wednesday night. I tried to get at least a Thursday. Thursday's are always good nights. We got Wednesday because she'd never heard of the band. Gotta start somewhere.
The gig was great, people were happy, the band was happy, I was happy. I am not a drinker, but when I do drink, its tequila. Shots. I decided to buy a round of shots for the band to celebrate. Bar couldn't serve liquor, only beer and wine. OK, a round of beer. At the end of the night, my "take" was $25 while my bar tab was $35. Lesson number two, don't ever buy beers for the band
Here I am, working for one of the biggest radio "conglomerates" and the idea of hanging out with some great music and I'm just not there yet. I know it will come back. I'm back where the music happens which is a very cool place to be. Even if it isn't a really cool box with people inside. I'm excited for my groove to come back. I think it just took a vacation for a bit.
Stay tuned, a live remote coming to a parking lot near you....
I tried to be a party DJ once. It didn't take long for me to realize that I hated the music I was playing and I don't care how well you think you do at public speaking, talking through the music breaks at a loud gig is hard. When I was a kid, I used to think the DJs on the radio box actually lived in the box. When I was a kid.
I'm very musical but not the least bit talented. I loved working with the band Hey Norton, managing them. They were a great group of guys who all had "real" jobs, and took their music very seriously. R&B mostly, with sax and harp playing. Loved those guys. It worked out great for everyone. I was single and don't like going to bars by myself, and here I am with the boys who are keeping an eye on me and I'm filling rooms with their great music. Well, filling rooms may be a stretch when there are only 10 tables, but its a gig. A paying gig.
I learned two very important band managing lessons: first, the BAND is the one that brings people in. Our very first gig was at a little biker bar and she wanted to give us a Wednesday night. I tried to get at least a Thursday. Thursday's are always good nights. We got Wednesday because she'd never heard of the band. Gotta start somewhere.
The gig was great, people were happy, the band was happy, I was happy. I am not a drinker, but when I do drink, its tequila. Shots. I decided to buy a round of shots for the band to celebrate. Bar couldn't serve liquor, only beer and wine. OK, a round of beer. At the end of the night, my "take" was $25 while my bar tab was $35. Lesson number two, don't ever buy beers for the band
Here I am, working for one of the biggest radio "conglomerates" and the idea of hanging out with some great music and I'm just not there yet. I know it will come back. I'm back where the music happens which is a very cool place to be. Even if it isn't a really cool box with people inside. I'm excited for my groove to come back. I think it just took a vacation for a bit.
Stay tuned, a live remote coming to a parking lot near you....
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