Just a dog.....

You know we don't have a dog.  And we never will.
There are good reasons for that.  They shed.  They slobber.  They make a mess in the yard and sometimes in the house.  You have to feed them.
Oh yes, you say, but you once had a dog.  We did.  Snooty.  A mixed breed of a mutt that Julia and Emily could climb on, lay on, chase, even share their food with.
Oh yes, I had to clean up the yard.  And the house when she had an accident.
And then there was the winter when the snow was deep..... 79?.... and the damn dog had to use the driveway as a yard.  I did not realize the problem that would cause until spring time when the snow melted and there were these huge blobs of brownish crap  on the roof of the garage.  It seemed I should have aimed the snow blower away from the garage, not at it.  I don't remember how many rains it took to wash that off!
And the dog had a tumor under her left front leg.  When she walked, it looked like she was carrying a basketball.  The tumor was inoperable without causing muscle damage to the front leg, rendering it useless and making her a three legged dog.
Emily was in sixth grade.  That would be 87 or so.  The tumor got bigger, the dog got to the point where she could barely walk.  And it was time to say good bye.
It was the hardest thing I had to do....I took our dog into a vet office, knowing I would not bring her home.  No more picking up the messes in the yard.  No more buying dog food and cleaning the water bowl.  No more yapping in the middle of the night to go out or scare off the imaginary intruder.  No more Snooty.
You know, we don't have a dog.  And we never will.
But Emily has dogs.  Libby is my favorite.  She's the mutt that captured our hearts from the day Emily brought the foundling home from a vet clinic, where she had been dumped.
She's a messy dog.  Sheds.  Drools like crazy.  Demands attention from anyone within arms' length.  And if you don't pet her, she'll lean on you until you do.
For 13 years she has been there, protecting Emily, playing catch with me.  Being my listening buddy and gladly putting up with my kvetching as long as I was petting her.  When she was younger we would wrestle all over the house.   She'd chase a ball.....never bring it back, but she would always chase it.  And tug of war was an outcome whenever she had something in her mouth she wasn't supposed to have.
Over the weekend Libby started bleeding from her ear.  Last November she had her spleen removed and they told Emily she had a rather aggressive form of cancer.  Today the vet said she had a growth in her ear that was bleeding, possibly a manifestation of the cancer which produces tumors throughout the body.
Libby is not in pain, or at least obvious pain.  But the bleeding can't be stopped without a pretty involved surgery which may solve the problem, or may not.  And it won't prevent another tumor from forming in the same ear, or another ear, or elsewhere.
I know she's just a dog.  But I'd be lying if I didn't say it's hurting like hell right now.  Emily has to make the call.  I know what I would do, and I think Em knows what has to be done.
I know she's just a dog.  But she's the dog who backed the greyhound away from Emily after Emily was attacked.  She's the dog that Emily brought home from the vet, saving it from a life of uncertainty while giving it a loving home, plenty of food, and a lot of attention.  She's the dog who is, and will always be my friend.  I will miss her.
I will be with Em when she takes Libby for that last vet appointment.  I will hold my daughter, and my wife, as we all shed tears.
But I won't have another dog.

Who is my daddy?

Going through boxes can be a difficult task.  I am trying to tackle one or two boxes a week, maybe I can reduce the amount of "stuff" we have accumulated.
We?  Hell, it's the crap I have that causes the problem.
And honestly, sometimes I don't know what to do with it.
Pictures are my main focus this week.
Family History:  My father came to America when he was an infant.  Born in Pozin (Posen) Germany, by the time his mother brought him that part of Germany was in Poland.  So of all the people in my dad's family, he is the only Polish immigrant.
He was born in 1901....so he would be 112 if he were alive today. And he'd be grouchy, because that was his nature.
I don't know him.  Seriously.
He married my mother in 1937 or so.  I actually interviewed my mother a couple of times before she died and have notes.  I should put those in writing and maybe one day I will.
Anyway, she didn't know much about him either.....so his life before 1937 was a blank.  He was 36 when he married.....not exactly someone who did not have life experiences.
So here are my questions.  Look at the pictures and see why I am puzzled.

This could be a picture of my brother Carl, or even me....but it's dad!

My dad (on left, I think) at Camp Grant in Rockford during WW I

Pops in uniform, with a friend or his dad?

He's a doughboy.

Taking aim at the future

With a bunch of guys at Camp Grant....he's in the middle

This is marked Gallup NM 1926

Another Gallup 1926

At some point, he worked at a Glenn Ranch, or Glenn Canyon Ranch.  Note that Mrs. Raney is leaving.

To a good friend, from Cookie

Another reason I am confused.....did his parents own this store?

Man of leisure in California

So, there are some of the mysteries.  What did he do from WW I to when he got married?  I know he was in the service at the very end and was mustered out after training.
And in 1926, how adventurous do you have to be to drive in the west.  Did all of them travel together?  Did they take a train then rent a car, or drive the whole way?  Who are the other people?
Do I have half brothers and / or sisters running around in California?  Inquiring minds want to know.
What I realize is the importance of labeling pictures.  And talking to your parents.  You may find a whole lot that you didn't know.
I think it's kind of neat that I have a direct connection to WW I..... even if he was a short term doughboy who never saw action against his homeland.

Happy Valentine's Day.
Now for my strange journey through the day.
I decided to go through one of the 7 or 8 boxes of pictures I have saved throughout life.  As I sorted through the prints and negatives, I realized that I could have been a rich man if it wasn't for the camera!  I must have thrown out 60 packs of negatives.....one of them was marked $3.26 for developing.  I could have bought some Apple stock and been a millionaire!
Something else that amazed me.....negatives were dated and labeled with a topic!  In other words, at one point in my life I was organized!  I never realized that.
And at times I did tear up.
I looked at one picture of my family with all the relatives surrounding my mom and dad.  Aunt Kay, who once was a stockbroker, one of the first female ones in Chicago.  Uncle Jim, the natural born salesman.  Rondy, the diamond dealer.  Bee, who still had 20 year old canned tomatoes in her garage.    She insisted even though they were purple, her neighbors loved them.  Her husband Henry, a photographer extraordinaire.  Floyd the perv. My brother Dennis.  All of them are gone now, and of the 20 or so adults in the picture there are only a couple of us left.
Pictures of Julia and Emily as young girls.  Jackie as a long haired young woman, and Jackie with what looks to be a soccer ball on her head.  A baby.  A relatively good looking guy with a beard, which I never knew I did grow.

Family.

I always wanted riches, fame, and a great car.  I honestly wonder what my life would have been like if I had it.  Certainly the pictures would have changed..... some would not even be taken.

And it all went past so quickly, like a flash.

So on this Valentine's Day, embrace the family.

I'll let you embrace my family in photos.  Some are easily recognizable.  Some may not be.

Hope you enjoy them as much as I did taking them.

Emily with pumpkins on Mill Pond

A young teacher

my girls

Emily getting ready for the horse to roll

Soccer ball or hat?  You decide!

My first Christmas....I was 8 months

Back from Alaska, with a beard!

Newly weds

Snooty was a great dog

A preschool star

Cotton candy is always good

In the land of Oz?

Living in a new house is a matter of adjustment.  You don't know how cold you will be in winter, or how hot in the summer.  You are not sure if the air circulation will be enough when you open windows on the one day in October that seems nice enough to open windows.
Digression:  The window battle is often fought in our household.  Jackie has allergies.  I don't.  Jackie gets bothered with the windows open at night.  I don't.  Jackie does not always like them open during the day.  I do.
If you are married, you can see why I sleep in the spare bedroom on cool autumn nights and warm spring evenings..... I open the windows and close the door.  We both seem happy, until it is time to do the sheets and I have to fold two sets instead of one.
Last night was, how to put it, gusty.
At times I thought the roof was going to blow off.   The house shook.  The siding rattled.  The windows creaked.
How windy was it?
On the port o' pot index, pretty damn windy!
Digression two:  There is a house going up across the street from us.  They have the port o pot in the front driveway.  When it gets really windy the things flops over.  Today it was flopped and pushed and maybe even rolled.  
Now I know a job is a job.  But who is going to clean up that mess?
And by the way, those huge port o potties are not fireproof.  About two years ago a couple of youngins wanted to see if they burned.  So they threw some newspapers down and then tossed a lit paper in and.... surprise, they do not burn, BUT THEY MELT!!
And are they Irish?  I mean, is it port a pottie or port o' pottie? I know it's Patty O Furniture out in the yard, obviously an Irish invention.
But back to adjustments.
We have generally been warm this winter.  Some nights we use the fireplace for heat in the main room. I know, finding wood, cutting it, splitting wood, keeping a stack near the house.  Trudging out in mid January to bring up more wood.  All of this for a guy who is almost 65.  I miss that.  Now all I do is flip a switch and the gas log ignites with a swoosh.  I don't get the burning wood smell, the dust from the ashes.  No clean up required.  And while it's nice, I live in dread of losing power on a cold night and not having a wood burning stove as a back up.
The extra insulation seems to have sealed the drafts.  Despite all the rain, there is no water in the basement or the sump but we do have an itty bitty spot near an egress window.  I think by the time we get a lawn and grading done, that will be a one time occurrence.
The retention pond behind our house was pretty full yesterday and has gone down today.  Kids were using that as a sledding hill when we had our 1 inch of snow.
Traffic is more than I realized.  I think a lot of people are using Flagg Road to go from Dixon to DeKalb and Rochelle.  Unlike the tollroad, you won't pay almost $6 in tolls.  And unlike 38, there are only two stop signs and no towns, so traffic flows a little faster.
And traffic noticeably picks up on our street at around 8 and 3....we must have a lot of high schoolers and/or parents who pick up their kids from school.
We are working on organizing the laundry room....hopefully my next trip to IKEA will mean a wrap up of that project!
I can almost feel the earth outside calling me....... must be getting near spring.  Or maybe it's just the wind.