As I look back over the past 21 New Year’s Eve celebrations with my wife, 2 have been spent in the hospital, 3 with family & friends, 12 in fancy restaurants, and 4 at home with the dogs. Allow me to reflect on just this past year of memories that have been both good and bad, in no particular order of importance. Only two, including tonight, have ended with a relaxing night in a hotel room.
The Year in Review:
My son turned 45
Two of my wife’s daughters wed great young men, so I’m now twice a step-father-in-law, joining my expanded family of a daughter-in-law of now over ten years
The two very different ceremonies were at The Presidio in San Francisco and Powell’s Rare Book Room in Portland.
Both newlywed couples took gift honeymoons from us in Hawaii, while my son and his wife enjoyed our time-share condo in Orlando
We sold our stand-alone Portland condo in twelve days and at a profit.
My oldest grandchild turned 12 and he took up golf
My middle grandchild turned 10 and we help her with dance lessons
My youngest grandchild celebrated her first birthday and I started her college fund
My wife joined me in retirement just a few months ago, while I just enjoyed my third full year
We traveled together to Thailand, Florida, Phoenix, Tucson, San Francisco, Walla-Walla, New York, Indiana, Maui, Vancouver, Chicago, Steamboat, Seattle, and McMinnville.
We saw Elton John, Pink, Goo-Goo Dolls, and Train in concert
I grew my Ancestry family tree to include over 18,000 relatives
We helped free a Jeep stuck up to its front axle in deep Panama City Beach sand
I donated blood on several occasions
I finished with over 15,000 Buffalo Wild Wings points to use for future “Leadership Meetings”
We moved to a downtown apartment and started using public transportation
We lost cat Frankie and schnauzer Tinker to old age
We attended our 7th Outstanding In The Field in Vancouver, BC – our first international dining event
My wife’s mother sadly died at age 97
We saw Beetlejuice, Moulin Rouge, and Tootsie on Broadway
I missed my 50th high school reunion
I lost two college fraternity brothers
We saw the 60th annual Twilight Zone movie presentation on the big screen
I.U. soccer lost to I.U. Santa Barbara and failed to reach the National Championship like last year
We watched I.U. baseball win and lose in Seattle and Oregon State beat I.U. the same weekend. The Beavers were not able to return to the College World Series
I.U. football earned a spot in the Gator Bowl
I.U. basketball failed to make the tournament again
The Chicago Bears failed to make the playoffs
The Cubs did not win the Division or make the playoffs. The White Sox didn’t come close
The Portland Trailblazers enjoyed playoff success but fell short to the eventual champion Warriors.
I saw Oregon basketball beat Memphis at the Moda Center
Oregon earned a spot in the Rose Bowl
I’ve added to my Sherm Lollar baseball collection while drastically downsizing my Cubs memorabilia to accommodate our much smaller living space
I gave-up my once-framed I.U. jersey to its rightful owner Kent Benson #54
We had Portland visits from my wife’s Indy girlfriends, my wife’s youngest daughter, and our Decatur friends
We reconnected with many old friends around the country
We paid off all our credit cards and the balance on our Decatur, Illinois mortgage
We eliminated most of our wine club memberships
We invested in more Marriott Vacation Club points
We planned and paid for many trips next year including Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, Spring Training, Alcatraz, the Great Pyramid, and Glacier National Park
We bought the Regal Unlimited movie pass for next year and can easily walk to the theater
My wife’s oldest daughter and husband bought their first house. They also adopted Falco to play with now lonely Tally, our 10-year old schnauzer
My wife’s youngest daughter took a new job with Stanford Hospital and moved with her husband to San Francisco
We’ll end the year and day #7,861 together with dinner at Bern’s Steakhouse in Tampa and start the New Year with theme park visits with my grand children
We looked at retirement properties along the Gulf Coast of Florida
We celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary at Joel Palmer House in Oregon wine country
We met my cousin in Phuket, Thailand
I finished Game of Thrones
We went to the King Tut exhibit at OMSI in preparation for next year’s trip to Egypt
I completed the 11th consecutive year of my daily running streak
I had just one minor cold this past year
I just now finished my 1,178th blog post
Happy New Year to all!
It’s officially been eleven years now since i began my running streak. I was 57 years old and living in Austin, Texas. It was the year after we said goodbye to friends and co-workers in Decatur, Illinois that continue to come in and out of our lives. Today we reacquainted ourselves with a couple we haven’t seen since then and visited their new home in Watersounds Origins, along the Emerald Coast of Florida. We’re considering this area as a permanent retirement home, attracted by the beautiful beaches and upscale neighborhoods. Coincidentally we had set up an appointment with a realtor and toured a model home just down the street from where they live. The decision my wife and I need to make is how much we want to invest of our retirement savings in a home relative to traveling the world. We can buy a nice place and stay home the rest of our lives or make some compromises to fulfill our bucket lists. It’s the classic retirement decision between memories and material possessions.
There was a cool mist in the air as I completed day #4,017 of “The Streak,” a 3.1 mile run along the sidewalks of West Destin, Florida. It’s a city that didn’t exist when my wife visited here 35 years ago and a totally unexplored area for me. I’ve been coming to Florida since I was a kid to visit my grandparent’s winter home, a mobile home in an Englewood bay-side park. It was a sharp contrast to the penthouse view of the Gulf that we experienced from our sixth-floor Sheraton Hotel room suite this morning. It poses the question of do we want a pricey view or simply more-affordable proximity to the beach? Do we want a condo, a family-friendly environment, or a 55+ plus community, where we could potentially alienate ourselves from younger friends?
This trip to the “Sunshine State” is strictly exploratory, weighing our options of where to move for possibly the last time in our lives. We’re sold on the beauty of the area and the fact that there are no state taxes, as we carefully start to spend our combined IRA. As a bonus, my son and his family live down here, but it also means putting distance between my wife and her two girls. We still have 14 months left on our Portland, Oregon apartment lease, so there’s still plenty of time to examine the possibilities. Our house sold much quicker than expected, a blessing considering our track record of poor luck in real estate transactions. Apartment life is teaching us the value of space, especially after cutting our square footage in half. A cross-country move will also be costly. but warmth is what we seek. Over the course of the next week, I will continue to run and my wife will contemplate the balance between home life and travel. I’ll be satisfied either way! In the last eleven years, we’ve moved five times, so it will be nice to finally settle down.
I’m on the Alaska flight to Orlando, after talkative Uber driver, Daniel, drove us to the airport. He was the only driver available, with a half-hour wait time. A Budget Car Rental shuttle bus was on its side, blocking the Passenger Arrival lanes. What a terrible Christmas for that driver and any passengers. We’re fleeing the gray skies of Portland in our new role as retired snow-birds.
It was the traditional McDonald’s Egg McMuffin and hash browns for breakfast. Hopefully, all the wine we packed will arrive safely, although my wife heard one of the protective inflatable packages lose some air before we handed the suitcases over to the airline. At least, it’s triple sealed in case of breakage. Otherwise, it could be a repeat of my Italy trip many years ago with my clothing soaked in fine wine and olive oil. The storage packs were a thoughtful gift from our Tucson friends that visited recently.
While in the Christmas spirit, we switched seats with a separated family, but I got stuck in the center seat that I purposely avoid because of my aging bladder. My wife is passed out in the window seat, after a sleepless night. I got a good six hours, but got up at 4 a.m. to get-in my minimum mile run and continue “The Streak” that is only a few days away from eleven consecutive years. It was cold, dark, and spitting rain, but the homeless were still up and about. Tally, our schnauzer remained cozy in her bed, reluctant to brave the elements for her appointed duty. A sitter will come to her rescue later this morning and will stay with her while we’re gone. Since this is a lengthy away-from-home stay, there are actually two women that will share this responsibility.
I’m reading David Baldacci’s A Minute to Midnight, that should keep me entertained during the 5-hour flight. I woke my wife up when I ordered us some snacks from the flight attendant. She was snoring, and is appreciative when I prevent too much embarrassment. She’ll play games while I read and write. My limited attention span requires multi-tasking, but reading of late has been a function of strictly bedtime. It’s difficult to get into a story that is consumed in only bits-and-pieces, so reading on the plane will help me keep track of the characters and avoid confusion.
I’m anticipating the joy of being at Universal Studios and Disney World with my three grand children next week after we scour the Gulf Coast for a potential retirement spot. We also have some lunches planned with former coworkers and my wife’s Butler sorority sister that she hasn’t seen since then. Her two newly- married daughters are with their dad for the holidays, so I’m her only family this year. I hope I can live up to that role after years of Christmas dinners with her mother and sister. This is my fifth year without my parents but only her first. I’ll try to keep her distracted, and at the very least this year we shouldn’t have to deal with snow. We’re now the very snowbirds that we may regret seeing as future residents.
My Ancestry Jerry Lee Banister family tree has now exceeded 18,000 people, as I continue to find connections with each DNA match. It isn’t getting me any closer to a conversation with my birth mother, but it continues to support my unique relationship as her first son. She called me Jerry Lee, a name she also gave to her next son. Perhaps, she knew that I would get a different name once the adoption was finalized. I cannot not find a any evidence on my tree that it was a family name, and the most popular owner of this identity, Jerry Lee Lewis, didn’t even start recording until five years after my birth. It’s one of many mysteries that will probably never be solved without her acknowledgement of my existence.
I’m just grateful this holiday season to be alive, as I continue to quietly support right-to-life and adoption. In my case, it’s been a blessing after 68 years of enjoying life. All I would really want to say to her is thank you, but I still have questions. Considering the times, I’m sure she had little choice in keeping me. Abortions were dangerous and illegal, not to mention murder. There are circumstances when it may be justifiable, especially when the mother’s life is in danger, but adoption is always the best option. As I think about it, so far four other lives would also not exist if I had not been born. My son, three grandchildren and their potential offspring would have been tragically lost.
I would never have known my adoptive parents, their parents, and families. I would not know their friends, neighbors, or siblings. Instead, I would have had different brothers and sisters, grandparents, cousins, and acquaintances. These are the strangers that occupy most of my ancestral tree. It’s odd to realize that I’m researching people that I will probably never know. However, there have been a few that I’m now in touch with, trying to figure out if they are as interested in me, as I am with them?
I would still like to know how the relationship between my birth parents came about, and why it ended? It doesn’t matter to me if it was love or passion. I will make no judgments or question any decisions. I’d like them to know how I turned out, and that they should proud of what they created. I know that sounds a bit like Frankenstein, but I’m the successful product of many generations of Ban(n)isters, who descend from LaBorn (1801-1885) and beyond, once someone much smarter than me figures that out. This much we all have in common. In the meantime, the tree will continue to grow as I continue to find my place in the Ban(n)ister family, even if it’s just on paper and because we share genetic matter that none of us totally understands.
Day # 4,010 of my running streak was completed in the rain, after weeks of somehow escaping from the inevitable here in Portland. Tally, now our only schnauzer, wasn’t happy either going out in a downpour. It certainly speeds up her sniffing-around time as she looks forward to being wrapped in a towel afterwards. There was no warm towel waiting for me when I returned from doing my 3.1 mile daily duty. Only 8 days now until the 11-year mark. That milestone will hopefully be reached in the warmer weather of Florida.
Tonight is the annual holiday dinner for our Portland clan. We joined the tradition five years ago in our move here for my wife’s job. I then spent two years working in local radio before my retirement pension kicked-in. My wife just joined me, so everyone at the dinner table will for the first time be gainfully unemployed. Her new freedom will give us much more flexibility in achieving our travel goals. Through June of next year, we already have scheduled at least a week per month away from home, including Orlando, Las Vegas, Phoenix, Tucson, Bali, and San Francisco. We’ll continue to plan for future down-time between already-booked river cruises through Egypt and Russia, plus an ocean voyage from Barcelona to Oslo, Norway.
As I dry out from my morning run, I’m watching my I.U. Hoosiers play in-state rival Notre Dame. It’s part of the Crossroads Classic that I’ve attended many times while living in Indianapolis. The second game of the annual double-header will be Purdue against Butler. The teams rotate each year, but Indiana and Purdue never play until their two traditional conference battles. Even though I.U. has only lost one game so far this season against weak opponents, it seems like they’ve badly struggled, especially considering the thorough beating by Wisconsin. They really have trouble scoring and will soon face a tough conference schedule that will certainly be challenging. Hopefully, the luck of the Irish will wait for another day.
We’ll have overnight guests tonight since the restaurant is in walking distance and the wine will be flowing. With the limited confines of our retirement apartment, we’ll have to do some rearranging and inflating in order to accommodate. We hope to have more room in our next move that could be determined in the upcoming Florida trip. We’ll explore the Gulf Coast for property options that should include a dedicated guest room and an office. Right now, we don’t have that luxury, but have already had multiple visits by friends anxious to see Portland.
Tomorrow night we’ll entertain my wife’s oldest daughter and her new husband. We’ve had two weddings this year, so there’s been extra gifts to buy. However, there will be no travel back to Indiana that has always been a holiday tradition. Our flight to Orlando on Christmas Day will start something new. We also just booked a flight to San Francisco to see my wife’s youngest daughter and husband. it will be the initial visit there since the wedding at the Presidio three months ago. All in all, there will be a lot of first-time holiday highlights this year!
Somehow, my then shy friend Grant found a girlfriend, even though she lived in the neighboring community and went to rival Concord High School. I don’t remember how they met, but they were constantly together or talking on the phone. I think that our friendship might have suffered if they hadn’t fixed me up with her best friend. We would walk from school downtown to the telephone company and would use their phone booths to check-in with the girls every day. We also each installed lights on our bedroom phone and disconnected the ringer so we could talk to each other at night. He showed me how to set-up a switch on my parents bell box so that no sound from an incoming call would wake them. On several occasions, I forgot to flip the switch in the morning and my mom’s friends wondered why she didn’t answer. “Oh Sorry – my bedroom phone was off the hook.”
My parents were rarely gone, so I did not have the luxury of limited supervision like Grant. I had to do a lot more sneaking around than he did, since Grant Sr. was a widow and constantly on the road. We did a lot of double-dating once we got our driver’s licenses but I had stricter curfews. He had his Pontiac GTO and I drove my dad’s Mustang convertible. I remember that he installed a baffle on his muffler that could be controlled inside the car. This allowed the muscle car to roar when the muffler was bypassed and brought out the red-neck side of Grant. He was constantly working on that car, giving him mechanical skills that were definitely not my forte. When we were both in college, I visited he and Keven at Purdue and was shocked to find his engine parts spread out over their living room floor. This was the infamous Fiat that he always claimed was Italian for “fool.” I had also fallen in the foreign car trap when I bought a new Triumph. I was having similar engine troubles with my car and Grant convinced me that I could fix it myself. “Consider the average IQ of a mechanic,” was his justification. I followed his lead and completely disassembled my engine to the horror of my dad. He got home from work and found me in the garage surrounded by parts, each tagged with a note to remind me where it went. At least, I didn’t do it in the living room like Grant, but this was the kind of influence he had on me. There was nothing that he was afraid to do himself.
Back to high school, we were in a German class together and Grant was really struggling. He was distracted by the language lab equipment and the headsets that we used to learn the language. He hooked his up to listen to music while the rest of us were doing German drills. He also allegedly installed some kind of remote device in the classroom clock that allowed him to change the time so we could get out of class early. He and the young instructor, Frau Anchor, never got along, but she recognized his intelligence and I believe tried to seduce him. I was still pretty naive at the time, but she would sit on the desk in front of Grant and I in her short skirts. She had him stay after class many times and one night he decided to tee-pee her house, crashing the GTO trying to escape after her porch lights came on. In retrospect, it was classic sexual harassment on both of their parts, and I think he failed the course. We never discussed it.
As far as chemistry class, I found a formula for a contact explosive called Nitro-Tri-Iodine in a science magazine and send in $1 for the recipe. It required Iodine crystals that Grant could buy at Johnson’s Drug Store where he had a part-time job. The other ingredient was ammonia that you could also buy over the counter. Combining these two simple ingredients formed a paste that was stable until it dried. However, once it set for awhile, it would mildly explode when you touched it and leave iodine stains on your hands. One day we painted the handle of the pencil sharpener in our homeroom class with this substance and waited for someone to use it. It resulted in a small eruption of purple stain, almost like an electrical shock and we saw great potential for further pranks. Most ammonia that you buy in the store is diluted by water to a small percentage. Grant figured that if we could distill pure ammonia it would create a more violent explosion. We borrowed the equipment and chemicals from the classroom lab and worked all night in my parent’s basement making this very caustic, smelly ammonia. We then mixed it with the iodine crystals and dipped strips of paper in the solution that we formed into little cracker balls that would explode on contact when you threw them on the ground. We tested them outside and then carefully placed them on newspaper sheets on the concrete floor while we got some sleep. When we got up the next morning my parents were gone and there were purple stains everywhere. My first thought was that my dad had accidentally stepped on it on his way to the incinerator, and so I immediately checked his shoes in the bedroom closet with no signs of stain. The only thing that we could determine was that perhaps a bug had landed on one of these paper wads and set off a chain reaction. We used the remaining strong ammonia to clean up the stains and did some quick paint touch-ups of the pristine white walls before my parents got home. It was a mess. It was not our only experiment with dangerous explosives.
On one sleep-over occasion we made Nitroglycerine in his basement, once again using borrowed equipment from the high school lab and taking full advantage of our lab assistant status. We always replaced everything, especially the beaker that exploded in the course of this experiment. “You’ll shoot your eye out” was never our biggest concern, because fortunately guns weren’t on our radar. I did inherit a chemistry set from a friend of my dad’s that included the metal elements used to make fireworks. It also contained a jar of mineral oil that was used to stabilize a chunk of potassium. When potassium is exposed to water it releases explosive hydrogen and spins madly out of control in it’s container. Who knows what else was in that cardboard box under my parents stairway for years. It could have been a disaster, but somehow we survived our crazy experiments.
I think we both got A’s in chemistry, but he went on to make science his career. On the other hand, I buy cars that don’t require any maintenance skills and rarely take-on a D.I.Y. project. I once visited him in Seattle where I watched him play soccer, ate dim-sum, and then drove together to the base of Mt. Rainier. In Boston, I ran the historic streets training for my first marathon, while he attended classes on the path to his doctorate. Years later, I also met him for a drink before our travel connection out of the country. That may have been our last get-together. He was the hung-over, best man in my first marriage, but I don’t remember my roles in his. We also dined together as a group at the Diamond Harbor Inn on Diamond Lake before our Senior prom. I managed on my own to somehow get a date, but she was disappointed when Keven showed-up in the exact same dress. I also think he attended one of our high school reunions. I’ll dig through some of the pictures.
After we were both married, the four of us toasted to the new year with some wine that Grant & I made back in high school, via one of our overnight experiments. It was sugar and Welch’s Grape Juice that was stored in his basement in a giant plastic medicine display bottle that was formerly in the front window of Johnson’s Drug Store. It must have been four feet high, one of his rewards for working there. We forgot that it had been fermenting for all these years, until it sprung a slow leak. We actually had to crudely filter the contents through paper toweling to remove all the sediment before braving its taste. The rest of the batch was dumped once we realized it wouldn’t kill us or be a hazard to any of the nature around us.
Grant was usually with his steady girlfriend, so he didn’t hang out much with the boys, as I did. Although, there were several wild parties at his house through the years, he wasn’t as outgoing and socially engaged as me. On one occasion, we found Grant’s glasses perfectly intact in the middle of Lexington Blvd. in front of the house. He couldn’t find them when he got up that next morning, but they were sitting safely on the yellow line of the heavily traveled street. We also made road trips to both Purdue University and Mackinaw City, Michigan back in 1969, telling our parents that we were touring potential schools. If I remember correctly, we were actually headed to Purdue the first time when at the last second decided to keep driving, pulling into a rest station in Upper Michigan to catch a couple hours of sleep. I don’t know where we were headed, but I have a history of taking advantage of my freedom and just driving. For example, Grant did not accompany me when I told my parents we were going camping at the Indiana Dunes State Park but ended up in California. As my dad later quipped, “Well, Thank God There’s An Ocean.” Otherwise, there might have been nothing to stop me. What stopped us in Michigan was the fact that while we were sleeping, several feet of snow fell and trapped us in the car. It would take too much effort to explain how we got out of that mess, but it involved both of us pushing with the accelerator held down by a stick.
One time, I witnessed a big fight between he and his dad. It was as angry as I’ve ever seen him, as fists were flying and words were exchanged. It was one of those rare times when Senior was home, in total contrast to my family upbringing. Grant seemed to be naturally very patient at that time, and I can’t recall a single argument or disagreement between the two of us. I was certainly jealous that he had a steady girl when it required a “committee of support” for me to even call for a date. We never had many deep discussions about girls or family. We were always plotting our next experiment.
On the other road trip occasion, there was a mutual friend of ours whose brother was in a Purdue fraternity that was hosting a big party over the weekend. Grant was impressed with the ingenuity of a pop machine that held beer. Since beer cost twice as much, an empty can dropped between quarters. Perhaps, that’s what inspired him to attend Purdue. We did run into some heavy drugs on campus, but neither of us were into pills or even pot in high school. That eventually changed for me, and I’m sure he couldn’t resist the similar temptation to experiment. As you can see, it was in our DNA.
I’m pretty sure that Grant met my son, Adam. I know he was at our Eagle Lake house and helped me build a greenhouse. He was happy as long as he was involved in a project and I had plenty of them. Adam was born in 1974, within the window when he was still living in Indiana. I had to consult his obituary to get a timeline, but he finished his doctorate in 1979. There was so much in there that I didn’t know or forgot about Grant, but it’s been wonderful to think him so much these past few days. It must have been in the late 70’s that I spent time with him in Seattle and Boston. That makes sense because I completed my first marathon in 1979. It’s hard for me to imagine that Grant was so into soccer because sports or any physical activity were not high school priorities. Soccer was certainly not popular in the late 60’s but I’m glad he finally found a game that was challenging to his intellect. He did not even participate in the bicycle endurance racing that our mutual classmates drug me into. I understand that it was another sport that he adopted later in life and used to commute to work.
I’ve recounted some of the most memorable experiences of our teenage years together. It’s hard to believe that the two of us were really only together for a handful of years. His future wife occupied most of his time, while I did some wrestling, ran track, and got involved with the choir. I had other friends that got me into much more trouble than Grant ever did, and I always knew that he would go on to accomplish great things. It was sad that his life was so short, but he fulfilled his desires. He had the million dollar lab that he always talked and dreamed of as a career goal. He was most comfortable with books, beakers, and gadgets. I’m sure that he spent every waking hour in it, consumed with ambition and knowledge. I heard that he died at his desk on Thanksgiving, and regardless of whether that’s totally accurate or not, he was focused on science more than family or friendship. I think that I got the best years of his life, before he drifted into the world of academics and discovery. Thanks, Grant, for seeing me as the brother we both never had.
In a few short weeks, we’ll be off to Florida and perhaps opening a new chapter of our lives. The New Year begins with both my wife and I in full retirement, as we begin the search for a final home along the Gulf. After 32 moves, I’ll be ready to settle down. We still have 15 more months here in Portland, and each day we shed more and more of our worldly possessions. With the loss of both Frankie our cat and Tinker our oldest schnauzer, we also have fewer responsibilities. It’s now just the three of us in a two-bedroom apartment. I’m also thinking about selling one of our cars since public transportation is so easily accessible. We now have to find ways to further reduce expenses as we start to rely heavily on our lifetime savings.
Without my wife’s employment income, our four-legged retirement stool is now down to three – social security, pension, and 401k. I think we have enough savings to last another twenty years, even with an aggressive travel schedule. However, there are so many variables in life. I guess that’s what makes it interesting! Besides, “all you need is love.” All my friends are now in the process of retiring as the Class of 69 approaches age 70. I’m only 20 months away from that monumental birthday. A mere blink of an eye from what I once thought was an ancient milestone.
More and more people address me as “sir,” and want to give up their seat. It’s a good indication that I’m older than I feel and certainly not what I see in the mirror every day. I still get up every day and run, but the deterioration in my stride and balance is clearly evident. I sometimes wonder how long I’ll be able to maintain the daily streak that is nearing 11 years. Today was day #3,995 and I ran 3.1 miles. If I calculate a conservative average of 2.25 miles a day over its duration, I have traveled over 9000 miles, or the equivalent of over 3 coast-to-coast excursions from New York to Los Angeles. “Run, Forrest, Run.”
This morning is quiet, as my wife tries to catch-up on a sleepless night. She’s taken the loss of Tinker very hard. She’s also trying to find her retirement legs in making that abrupt change from a stress-filled job to a leisurely lifestyle. She met a former co-worker for their weekly walk yesterday afternoon, and I’m sure there were some reminders of her abandoned career. It took time for me to settle-in to a constructive retirement routine. Writing this blog was the key transitional piece for me in shifting down from high gear. I’m now content with reflecting about the past. Over the course of time, she will too. Tally, Tinker’s younger sister, is anxious for her to wake up so they can cuddle. Tally is also a bit depressed, mourning the loss of her canine companion. They’ll be off on a walk soon, and I’ll catch-up on the unfolding chapters of my weekly shows like the Curse of Oak Island and Vikings.
There was a lot of conversation about travel, as the friends we originally met in Decatur, Illinois visited with us this past week. They now live in Tucson, Arizona but are off to Maui yet this week. Their world travels are pin-pointed on a map in their study that would be the envy of any adventure wanna-be. In the movie Stripes, Bill Murray quips to farm boy Lee Harvey after his escapades with a cow, “I want to party with you, Cowboy!” Well, I wanna travel with them.
Now that they’ve left Portland, I now have time to tear off a few more pages from the 1,000 Places to See Before You Die calendar. It was a gift from some other Decatur friends that now live in Steamboat, Colorado. Incidentally, we actually planned this week together in Oregon wine country when all of us were reunited at Steamboat several months ago. The calendar is growing thin as the end of the year approaches, and it continues to humble me with sights that I’ve never even thought of visiting, let alone visit. Places featured like the Seychelles, Gamla Stan, Gros Morne National Park, Tuamotu Islands, Quang Nam, Manitoba, Lisbon, Temple of Heaven, Dodecanese, and Myanmar were never on my Bucket List.
I’m sure that I don’t have the resources to travel to all these intriguing destinations, but at least now they are on my radar. I still have the basics to cover that we’ve already made plans to visit. These include Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Norway, Russia, Bali, Finland in the next year or so. After that we’ll tackle China before the money starts to run out. Honestly, there are still so many things remaining to see in the United States, including Alaska and Maine, the two states that I’ve yet to conquer.
The calendar is also a reminder that time is short, and what you ultimately see is a factor of how long you live. No one knows when they’ll die or how. It could even be tomorrow. All I do know, is that as long as I live, I wanna continue to travel. Hopefully, I’ll have a chance to see my travel dreams come true.
It was a normal morning, with the major exception that Tinker is no longer with us. We had an appointment to put her to sleep this morning, but apparently she was in pain last night and could no longer stand. I had gone to watch the I.U. basketball victory with a friend when I got the call to meet my wife and step-daughter at Dove-Lewis Animal Hospital. By 9 p.m. she had become an angel and Tally, our younger schnauzer, an only “child.” My wife did not sleep well last night, while I was still inclined to step-over the spot where Tinker often spent the night. It was in a direct line from my bed to the bathroom, a route that I navigate all too often every night.
When I got up this morning, Tally and I took the familiar route to the park but without Tinker’s “Air Buggy” stroller. We encountered another dog on the stairway down from our apartment, since there’s no longer a need to use the elevator. There was a lot of barking as the two went nose-to-nose. I actually thought we could avoid the other dogs in the complex by taking the stairs because most of the surprise meetings occur when the elevator doors open. There’s a neighbor’s huge St. Bernard that is of particular concern since Tally is always intent in protecting me with her fiercest voice. I’m sure she’ll miss Tinker, but will take every advantage of no longer having to share.
My wife will do the ten o’clock dog outing on a solo basis from now on. She got in the habit of taking feisty Tally on longer walks since her retirement a few months ago. I would take Tinker out with them but then bring her back shortly after “business” was complete. This way she never felt left out after “Schnauzerthons” were no longer possible. She could no longer keep her balance in the stroller, so our combination walk-run routine changed once we moved downtown. Today is a sad day, but there’s relief knowing that Tinker is at rest. Despite the loss of hearing & sight, and some open sores, her appetite was never affected. She died with a full stomach.
I’m feeling sad for our oldest Schnauzer, Tinker, that has been part of our lives for over 13 years and presumably 15.5 years old. When we adopted her from the Decatur, Illinois shelter, she had been rescued from the woods, surviving on acorns to keep her digestive system active. She was given an older sister, my wife’s chow Belle, and named for the Disney fairy Tinker Belle. Hence, Tinker and Belle became an inseparable pair.
We had to put Belle to sleep years ago, following an ACL injury that prevented any mobility. Her legs simply gave out. In her absence, Tinker was presented with a younger sister, Roxie, that died very young as the result of an inattentive driver. Our third adopted dog, Tally. has now been with Tinker for about 8 years. Combined, they are known as T&T and have lived together in both Texas and Oregon. They have also traveled through a lot of states as we’ve moved across the country, and love to ride in the car.
Tinker was wild when we first met her, untrained and always hungry. She also ruined her share of carpeting until she eventually learned to take her business outside. It was not because she wasn’t smart. We believe that she is part-poodle, and as a result quite intelligent. Over the years, she has become a wise influence over Tally. However, she has never lost her aggressive nature towards food. She’s always “starving,” and treats every meal as her last. As they say, “input equals output,” so this is why she’s earned the reputation as “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet.”
Tinker is sadly on her “last legs,” just as Belle was years ago. When Belle was struggling, Tinker could run like the wind. Roles are now reversed as Tally watches Tinker stumble helplessly around. We believe she had a stroke that has left her hips twisted and back legs weak. She often can’t get to her feet on our slippery wooden floors. Last night, she cried for help getting-up on our bathroom tiles. Her plea was more like a whimper, as her vocal cords also seem to be impaired, affecting her ability to bark. Just a few weeks ago, she would bark incessantly, hoping to get our attention for scraps of food. I feel bad that I had to yell at her to be quiet because now she can no longer speak. Her long tail has lost hair, she has scabs on her elbows, a massive tumor in her ear, and some open sores that Tally can’t ignore. These mounting physical issues along with loss of sight and hearing are tell-tale that her time with us is growing very short. I wanted to get though the Thanksgiving holiday before making any decisions. It brings tears to my eyes as I realize that she can’t get to her dog bowl any longer, but there should be plenty of treats in doggy heaven.