Category Archives: musings

history

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I have a lot of books.
It’s actually a little ridiculous considering what a nomad I am.
I’ve wondered many times over the years why I lug all these boxes of books around with me from city to city and dwelling to dwelling.

Today I was looking for a specific book to loan to a friend. As I riffled through my collection, up and down my many bookcases, pulling books out and having tactile memories, I realized that at least part of the reason I carry these heavy boxes with me is because each book has a memory attached.
They are familiar and comfortable, but more than that; they are part of my history.

Ever since ‘e-book readers’ came out a number of years ago, there have been on-going discussions about their value and usefulness.
I’ve got a few books on my iPad, and I quite like reading them that way – I have a number of books easily (and lightly) accessible no matter where I am.

However, I will never have the comfort or romance with those e-books that I have with my often beat-up, well-worn, creased, bound paper books.
When I touch an often-read book of mine, I am almost transported back to when that book made its impression upon me.
Did I first read it in a bright and rain-protected cafe over a series of nights in Seattle?
Nestled in British Columbia winter, did I read it while curled up next to the iron fireplace?
Was it one of the many classics handed down from my mom?
I read many childhood books while curled up on the floor, in a corner of bookcases at the local public library or
while lying on the couch at home until it was too dark to read by the ambient light.

My books are a part of my memories.
There are my solace and rescue. They have been my friends and escape.
They are resources and go-to idea generators.

Because of these reasons, I will continue to box up my library and carry them with me from city to city, dwelling to dwelling.

regret

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The dictionary definition of “regret” is:
verb (used with object)
1. to feel sorrow or remorse for (an act, fault, disappointment, etc.): He no sooner spoke than he regretted it.
2. to think of with a sense of loss: to regret one’s vanished youth.
noun
3. a sense of loss, disappointment, dissatisfaction, etc.
4. a feeling of sorrow or remorse for a fault, act, loss, disappointment, etc.
5. regrets, a polite, usually formal refusal of an invitation: I sent her my regrets.
6. a note expressing regret at one’s inability to accept an invitation: I have had four acceptances and one regret.

I have been trying to figure out the difference between things in my past I regret vs things in my past I just chalk up to bad decision-making. There is loss, disappointment, sorrow. But all those can exist on their own without regret being attached.

The difference I see is that regret happens when you don’t live up to your own standards.
It is more of a feeling of failing oneself.

I have regrets. I wish I’d helped my dad more.
My pop was an alcoholic and addict who constantly tried very hard to better himself.
He died in 2006 of a prescription drug overdose.

He and I talked often about what he was going through. He was in an out of AA, the last stretch he had a sponsor. I was sympathetic, but my life took precedent. In retrospect, instead of just our conversations about it, I could have done research on alcoholism in order to understand the disease better. I could have been more actively supportive of his AA and asked him more often how that was going.

In 2005, he checked himself into a hospital under a self-imposed suicide watch. Our immediate family in NY counseled me not to go. They said that he didn’t want me to see him in that situation, but they thought I should know. I should have flown to New York anyway.

I know, the cliché “hindsight is 20/20” applies here, but only to a certain degree. I can’t let myself off the hook that easily. Sure, I was where I was, but I don’t think I did the best I could at the moment. Saying otherwise would be relativistic and thus make the case that I did the best I could do with where I was at the time. And I think that’s b.s.
I’m intelligent, resourceful, and try to be considerate. So, why didn’t I put those skills to the test when it came to my dad?

There is the truth that you can’t help someone who isn’t willing to help themselves, but he was working on it.
And I wish I’d been there for him more.

I’m sorry, dad.

alyosha

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I grew up with dogs, but had never trained or had one solely under my care. When I was a kid, Hoka was my close friend and exploring buddy. There was no discipline or off-limits…That was moms to worry about.

Hoka died when I was 13, and we soon adopted a pretty 40lb collie mix. Her name was Honey because of her coloring. She was very sweet, but disappeared not long after we adopted her. Mom figured that Honey got taken down by coyotes.

We didn’t have another dog and I missed having that companion.

I adopted Alyosha doggie from a small run down shelter in southern Illinois when he was just a few months old in the Fall of 1999.

When he was two years old, a friend told me that my Border Collie mutt would probably start to mellow around age four or five. It wasn’t until he was in his double digits that I noticed any sign of him slowing down. He wouldn’t chase a ball all day – just half a day.

He’s getting old now. His eyes are getting cloudy and he has difficulty getting into the car.

He had a small seizure last month and it worried me, but it hasn’t happened again.

The other day he started to limp. It wasn’t a bad limp, but noticeable. I wondered if I should take him to the vet. But the limp seemed to resolve itself by the next morning, so I didn’t take him. That following evening, he started to limp again. And the next morning it was worse, so I called the vet.

Somehow, my 14-year-old dog managed to strain a ligament in his left front shoulder.
I am now tasked with keeping him on “bed rest” for at least two weeks.

Yeah, good luck with that.

I will do my best to keep him mellow.

When he was young, I could say with a decent amount of confidence, “oh, he’ll be fine.” But now, I don’t have that same confidence.

One of these days, and probably not too much longer, I will have to say goodbye to my dog. There is no way to prepare oneself for this eventuality. I can acknowledge it, and understand it, but only when he is gone will I feel the loss of my dear friend.