A Metaphor

For a very long time I have wanted a dog that stood guard at the end of the driveway and never wandered, a dog that would follow me anywhere, stop when I stopped, stayed put when I said stay, a loyal companion whose every move was predicated on mine. I’ve seen dogs like these and wondered how they became that way.

Many years ago I owned a Brittany Spaniel.  As loving as he was, he was totally undisciplined. He was yelpy and hyper active, loved us and annoyed us, and was thoroughly absorbed by his Spaniel spirit. His name was Lucky. He was named so as the sole survivor of 8 siblings. He proved his moniker after surviving wolfing down an entire 3-inch round fudge-stuffed chocolate Easter egg the day we brought him home. He once followed a scent (or was kidnapped by some misguided fool who thought he’d found the perfect hunting dog) and was gone for months, only to return with his legs full of fox tails. He was not so lucky the day the garbage truck ran over him right before my eyes as he was running in front of it on the street outside my house.

Lady was my next dog, a stray that showed up on a friend’s door step with a belly full of pups. Sweet dog that she was she birthed all those pups and happily took the submissive role in a household full of animals until she was passed over to me. Unfortunately, though she was loving and mothered every kitten I brought into the household and a passel of daycare children I cared for, she too had wanderlust and often climbed or broke through the fence to pursue her dreams. Though I finally mastered walking her on a pinch collar during the last year of her life (she was an extremely strong pit bull mix), she would have been off and gone in a heartbeat if left to her own devices. And while she faithfully followed me throughout the house, was tuned to my every mood, and I loved her dearly, the dog of my dreams still eluded me.

Shortly after my beloved Lady passed away, I sought to soothe my aching heart by adopting Maura, a beautiful Shepherd/Chow mix whose “rap sheet” promised she loved to lay by the fire and was great with children. As sweet-tempered, smart, and loyal as this dog was, she too had a habit of running off when the mood struck her. Granted, I didn’t try very hard to break her of this. I just hoped it would happen.

My heart was irreparably broken when I lost Maura fifteen years later. She had been my loyal companion for all those years. The queen of dogs. Irreplaceable. And then, in a moment of profound empathy for a sad faced border collie/hound mix I was thinking of fostering but couldn’t bear to leave in the pound for another moment, I adopted my darling LG. She had everything I was looking for in a dog. Smarts, loyalty, a submissive nature, a desire to please, and a natural tendency to stay close (the herding dog instinct).

In LG I believed I had finally found my dream dog. Fiercely loyal and obviously bonded to me (based on her tendency to follow me from room to room and whine frantically when I left the house) I knew I had come as close as I could to the perfect dog. Yet still, if on a scent, she seemed to lose her hearing and would not come when I called her.

Then this evening, as I let her walk off the leash in front of me, then stopped to see what she would do, she too stopped, waited, and then returned to me. And that is when it hit me.

God gave me the raw materials. It’s up to me what I do with them. In LG, I have everything I could possible hope for in terms of the opportunity to create my dream dog. But it’s not going to happen on its own. Yes, I took her to basic obedience training. And yes, I drill her now and then. But if I want her to be what I want her to be, if I want what I want, I will have to make it so. I will have to work with the material I’m given, the best chance I could have to have my dream dog, and turn her into one. It’s not going to happen on its own, or with minimal effort

This is my metaphor for life. God gives you the raw materials, whether that’s your intellect, your talent, your physical abilities, or simply your drive. You have to make it happen.

Do it.

Flap Your Butterfly Wings

It would appear Ms Gin (that's me) has been musing for quite awhile -- in fact, almost my whole life.

One of the luxuries of being semi-retired is having the time to sort out closets, boxes of keepsakes, old paperwork and other accumulations of life that get set aside for "when I can get to it." That's what I spent some time doing over the past few days -- and it was quite illuminating.

In a box of cards, photos, paperwork and assorted other items I thought would be good to keep for "some day" I came across several letters-to-the-editor of various local newspapers of the towns I've lived in during my adult life. Apparently I've long been a blogger -- just one without a platform, until now.

I've expressed my opinion to an invisible audience on topics ranging from the right to die to elitist attitudes regarding charter schools to negativty about single-parent families. While many who know me might think I'm relatively easy going, I have a tendency to speak up quickly and publicly when I think there is a wrong that needs to be righted. In fact, this tendency even harks back to my early teen years, when I wrote a diatribe about how adults need to earn respect, not command it -- which undoubtedly was inspired by an incident with my alcoholic father.

Among my finds this week was a very timely piece I wrote almost 20 years ago to the day about the state of our nation -- assessed by me shortly after Bill Clinton was elected to the presidency. Given that we are on the precipice of another potential shift in our whimsical way of running this capitalistic democracy we live in -- that has no patience for the time it takes to truly implement change nor the fortitude to sustain success when we achieve it (no matter what you think of Clinton as a person, he undeniably led our country out of the darkness of excessive exploitation to benefit the wealthy into a period of unparalleled fiscal and social health, which was quickly undone by the subsequent administration), I thought it might be good to reflect on our 20-year progress by looking back on a 20 year-old opinion. And that has got to be the longest run on sentence I have ever written!

Here is my piece from 20 years ago.

“This is the beginning of a new era. The problems our nation and the world face today have been a long time in the developing, but we are reaching a critical point in being able to either ‘turn things around’ or instead begin our painful slide down the chute to inescapable doom and destruction – economically, environmentally, socially and spiritually. Since the outcome of our recent presidential election, there is a renewed feeling of hope among so many of us, a feeling that I don’t remember having had at any other time (I was in elementary school when JFK was elected). There is a great deal of emotion associated with this hopefulness, as has been expressed in the thousands upon thousands of letters addressed to President-elect Clinton, which are arriving in Little Rock every day. Perhaps this overwhelming expression of emotion exists because we do feel ourselves to be on the pivotal edge of ‘make it or break it’.

No doubt among many others of us there is fear and trepidation. It has been pointed out more than once that Bill Clinton did not win a clear majority of the popular vote. It is to the fearful and skeptical that I address the next portion of this letter, most vehemently on the issue of environmentalism, which is inextricably linked with the issue of economic recovery. In our time, as in no other, we must be farsighted and far-reaching in our environmental/economic policy, unless we want to abandon future generations to extinction. We need not look into the distant future to see those whom we will abandon. If you are of my generation and blessed to have them, as I am, just look at your grandchildren’s faces. If we do not make tremendous and concerted effort for reform now, they will never know grandchildren.

The pacific northwest economy has long been timber-dependent. There are other areas of the country that are dependent on industries that are and will be impacted by environmental legislation. This type of legislation certainly means stopping things we have done for many years, such as indiscriminate clear-cutting. A logging truck driver, for example, will understandably feel threatened by these regulations. But if you can drive a truck to haul logs, you can drive a truck to haul recyclable goods to a recycling plant. If you operate a piece of equipment that processes logs, you can operate a piece of equipment that combines garbage with concrete to create new building materials (a technology that currently exists in Europe). Everyone from engineer to mechanic to secretary to janitor to corporate executive can utilize skills they now possess in new types of industries that are compatible with and supportive of both environmental and economic health. Of course, there will be difficulties involved in re-training, re-tooling of equipment and in interim periods of unemployment. But we have those problems now. What we need are solutions that are long term, not quick fixes.

Finally, and this is addressed to everyone, each person can make a difference. If you don’t recycle, start. If your community does not offer a recycling program, lobby for one. Vote. It’s one of the most powerful and influential things you can do. Involve yourself in your community and work with others to make beneficial changes to our society. The power ultimately lies with the people, as was so dramatically illustrated on November 3^rd. We are all responsible for the state of our nation. Regardless of political affiliation, we must all join together to make ours a better life and to guarantee the same life to the children of the future.

Understand that human beings are an endangered species. The extinction, by human hands, of so many other creatures of the world is merely a precursor to our own extinction if we don’t act now.”

Twenty years is a long time. Over that time, we’ve made great strides in the area of environmentalism. And we have more strides to make. We now have another threat to our survival -- terrorism. We have to fear each other. That’s a sad state of affairs. We’re a little afraid of Mother Nature too, and rightfully so. But I wonder if in abusing Mother Nature in the past we have brought this upon ourselves.

What I do know is the same now as it was 20 years ago is personal responsibility. No one of us can change the world, but we can each make a difference within our small sphere. If all us butterflies flap our wings in one direction, there’s bound to be an impact.

Vote.