Life between the lakes, part 7

The sun avoided Deer Park during the first part of the week as the lake froze. Now the snow is sticking around because of the temps. When the sun came back it arrived with a vengeance, bringing glorious color in the morning and casting long shadows in the afternoon.

When you are in the wilderness you are given the unique privilege of watching the constant motion of our sun, literally unfolding in front of you by the second; versus just sensing that the sun is rising because the sky is getting lighter. There is a huge difference.

Tiger Jack Burke and Needa have adapted well to their new temporary home. Needa made the trip to town today with me today and had her head out the window for the 40-minute drive there and the 40 minute drive back.

I had a mental double-take when today on the radio someone said that it was only a week until Christmas.

Nobody was in the Newberry Post Office as I went to mail a package. I had to ring the bell to get someone to the counter and I could tell she was smiling at me under her mask as we chatted. 

There were no idiot drivers cutting me off as I drove through town, no vibrating cars blasting hip hop at the filling station, no crabby people at the uncrowded grocery store, and a woman at the drug store wished me a Merry Christmas.

Small town life. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

Saying Goodbye to Mom

 

My family has never taken the words “I love you” lightly; nor have we ever taken them for granted.

As my mother declined with her Alzheimer’s, as her caregiver and son I never thought of it like I would be losing her. That’s because once she was gone I knew she would remain beneath my breast bone and her light would continue to shine in the smiles of our family.

 

Over the past several days Mom was awake for short intervals as family showed up to see her and be together. Though she couldn’t clearly articulate any words as we’d lean down and get close to her she’d pucker up for a kiss and flash an occasional smile.

 

Earlier in the week, the Pastor from our long time family church came for a visit. We talked and his words were of great comfort. He visited with mom and we closed the conversation with the Lord’s Prayer. About two sentences in, without skipping a beat Mom woke up and joined us. That was the last coherent thing said in full voice.

 

I loved my mother and losing her last night is best described as a sad relief. She left this world knowing how much she was loved and her last words to me were “I love you too.”

#StandingOvationInHeaven

Cabin , Part 2

The radio stations in the UP are time capsules of my youth. This summer I unexpectedly heard the following bands on my favorite Upper Peninsula radio station out of Newberry.

The Cutting Crew

John Parr

The Bellamy Brothers

Pilot

Michael Martin Murphy

Ray Stevens

Minnie Riperton

Starland Vocal Band

Three Dog Night

Mac Davis

Roberta Flack

The Hues Corporation

Neil Sedaka. . .well, you get the idea. I loved hearing songs from these artists but then there was that moment--- that “in your face reminder” that the station bringing me these great songs is an oldies station.

Sink me.

During summer months, the cabin in the Upper Peninsula is a place that never really gets dark at night. In early to mid July, the sunsets are usually just after 9:00 and twilight lasts for at least another two hours. When it finally starts to get “dark” it is 1AM.

In the summer God keeps the Milky Way on high and it seems to split Muskallonge Lake in half, as falling stars and satellites whiz by us overhead. By5 AM you will begin to see faint rays of the sun, racing to the rise.

Birds chirp, the eagle hunts and you become so aware of your senses, it’s often hard to believe.

At the cabin you quickly learned that if you want to eat, you tell the cook the way they prepare a meal is just the way you like it. You also had to chip in with chores.

We read books by the light from kerosene lamps. We played spoons and board games and learned how to carefully separate those interlocking round, green coils that kept the mosquitoes away without breaking them.

That’s the way we did it back then and that’s the way we did it this summer. So, I ask this of myself all the time. Why are some of us obsessed with dreaming of youth?

The answer? Simpler times I suppose. But have we ever thought that what was “simple” for us back then was not so simple for our parents?

When I was a teen I remember going into my Dad’s office in the basement of our house the night before we were to leave for our UP vacation. He had all sorts of numbers written down in columns for; gas, food and emergencies. They all added up to quite a tidy sum. That’s just one of the many great things about my Dad. He gave us these vacations knowing we’d relish them.

I was too young to remember, but one year we ran out of gas about twenty miles short of Mackinac City around 6AM. All of us kids were sleeping because we often got a cozy spot and slept in the car the night before so we could leave in the middle of the night. Lucky for us, my Dad spotted a farm that butted up to I-75 and he walked to the house and asked the farmer for enough gas to get us to Mackinac City. The farmer obliged and my Dad repaid him with a couple of fresh baked pies on our return trip.

Some call it the cabin.

Some call it the lake.

Some call the UP, the YOOP or simply; “up north” and they are all correct.

Think about it; the same waves from our youth, still live in the lake. They tumble and lap the shoreline looking for us but disappear when the water becomes dead calm and flat like glass.

And each year, when it feels like we are connecting with the spirit and innocence of our youth; The truth is, we probably are.

Happy Birthday Tiger Jack Burke

Happy Birthday to Tiger Jack Burke

Tiger Jack Burke was whelped on November 6, 2007 to his proud mother “Heathers Fastball” and his father “Moose is Loose.” He spent his youth growing long legs and preparing to sprint at 45 miles an hour after a mechanical bunny while living at the Greyhound track in Jacksonville, Florida. He ran in a lot of races until an injury (broken front left toe) forced him to retire.

With his career cut short of expectations, he was shipped to Michigan to be with his owner, Jackie Nevison in Hillsdale, MI. He and his pushy sister Lady Wolverine stayed with her for close to a year until Jackie (85 years old) felt she could no longer take care of him.

She contacted www.Greyheart.org and Jack was moved to a foster home in Macomb, MI. He was four years old; about a year out of racing and was being sent to a place he didn’t know, with a family he didn’t know, but they loved him as they fostered him and he learned to become a dog.

Jack loved his foster home and his foster family (the Priors, who have fostered dozens of greyhounds) But six months later he had not been placed in a forever home like all the others who came to Greyhart at the same time and was either being stuck with the stigma of being ‘older” or just not well adjusted to living in a house. Six months was a long time to go un-adpoted and some wondered why nobody wanted him, but I did.

He came to my home to visit with his foster parents, Scott and Shelia. It was warm outside and when he entered he ignored the bowl of water I offered in favor of the open toilet. It was the first time I spoke his name in his presence when I said: “Jack, get outtta there!” He left the toilet bowl and has never had an urge to go back.

We went outside and he checking things out and relieved himself with one of those marathon Tom Hanks, League of Their Own pisses (if you’ve seen the movie, you’ll understand.) It ruined some beautiful lilies, but a short while later he began to warm up to me, but had to leave with his foster parents. I told them I had to think about whether or not I wanted him but it was a lie. My mind was already made up. A few days later we began sharing a home.

Today Tiger Jack Burke, a greyhound named after a popular wrestler from Michigan n the 1920’s is six years old; or about 42 in dog years. He’s in such great shape he could play a dog half his age in a movie.

Part of that reason is his life partner Anita Wood, aka Needa. The anniversary of their first meeting is tomorrow. It came after she was shipped via the 28 hour express from Florida to Michigan. She had barely settled into her foster home when I got a call. . .yada yada yada. . .4 days later she had found her forever home too.

I cannot imagine life without either one of them. Today is his special day; one he will never know or understand, yet every day we are together, is special.

So raise your glass and toast with us. Here’s to another 10 years together Tiger Jack Burke; hoping we set a new record in the stretch of life for a greyhound.

Love, Dad

Champions of the heart

My dogs are messy eaters.  They also leave their toys out, never make their beds and try to dig holes in the yard when I’m not watching. They are the most beautiful, imperfect dogs in the world. Being Greyhounds their story is not uncommon to the breed, but a greater purpose was revealed when they came into my life. Jack and Needa are my two kids; my family. When we pass people on the street many ask me if they were rescues.  “Sort of” I reply. “But I didn’t rescue them, they rescued me.”

After the effects of a divorce, losing my job and the ensuing depression, I needed something to change. Many months later after getting back on my feet, Jack invaded my life.  A few months later my job didn’t work out and I became an unemployment statistic again. Times were hard once more and had it not been for Jack, I would probably still be laying in bed.  

But parenting doesn’t give you that option, even with a dog. It became clear one day as I stared into his big brown eyes and saw myself. There were scars on his body from spills on the track and fights with his kennel mates. But I knew his biggest scar was inside, concealed somewhere deep inside his extraordinary and enduring heart, because that is what our dogs do with their pain; they hide it from us while they unselfishly absorb ours.

Shortly thereafter I got a call from the greyhound rescue about a new female who had just arrived. When they met Jack immediately rested his head on her back. In the canine world it may indeed be a sign of dominance, but it’s also a sign of love.  There was no way I could afford another dog, but I was reminded of an old saying; nobody ever became poor by giving. Animal shelters are full of dogs who want to love and be loved. Dogs wait in them hoping for a second chance. But after being forced to race for living greyhounds really only have one chance.

The politics of greyhound racing are complicated. When the dogs no longer make money they become unwanted. The sad, simple truth is if they are not humanely euthanized, they will be inhumanely euthanized. Jack and Needa were given their one chance and I was the lucky one who took it.

With racing behind them, I’ve had the joy of watching them become dogs again. Every day they are like a child waking up on Christmas morning. I may be poor in net worth, but with them I am rich in spirit and blessed with happiness. Raising them has been nothing short of an amazing experience.

We are a family. I don’t like to boast about my parenting, but yeah, I am a “great one.” But it’s because of the joy that Jack and Needa have given me and knowing every bit of love I give, I get right back in spades.