The Best Dog in the World

Today we lost our dog, Maggie. Maggie was a shepherd sheepdog mix of some sort, a beautiful dog with long black hair, a white chest and beard. She was quite certainly the best dog in the world.

Maggie was born April 1st, 1994 and she was my first dog. She lived to be 15 years old, not too shabby for a large dog. We adopted her in June of '94 from the Santa Clara Humane Society in San Jose, CA. We were both residents at Stanford at the time, and although taking care of a puppy was a lot of work, Mags made it all worthwhile.

She adapted well throughout the years to our lives, hiking and running with us, playing with her neighbor dogs, and playing well with the kids when they came on the scene. She quickly grew out of jumping on people and she never much chewed things. She knew exactly how much to bark, how to look scary to strangers at the door, but was friendly to anyone we accepted into our home.

Those of you who knew her may have been lucky enough to see her awesome tricks...sit, down, speak (of course) but she could also balance a cookie on her nose while shaking your hand and flip it up and catch it in her mouth. She would often talk to us, especially as she got older, and would not let you ignore her if she really needed something. She could even say "I Love You". I swear. It was awesome.

Of course there were the intangibles...the things you just can't describe with words about a true member of your family. But ponder this- people used to tell us they were reluctant to get a dog because they knew it wouldn't be a great as Maggie.

So, I hope you can see she was the best dog ever. I am thankful we had her, and that she's again chasing squirrels like she used to do so well in her early years.

RIP Maggie Bocko 4/1/1994 - 7/11/2009

Our Mother's Daughters

In the book A Girl Named Zippy, the author Haven Kimmel describes her life in Mooreland, Indiana, population 300. Her family is an unusual mix of much older siblings, a father who refuses to go to church but expects his daughter to, and a mother who attends Quaker church services for multiple hours a week but otherwise doesn't get off the couch. For all intents and purposes, the author hates school, church and any shoe gear.

In the second book, aptly entitled She Got Up Off the Couch, her mother receives a sign via a public service announcement on television and goes to college. She has to beg for rides, learn to drive, buy a VW Bug (this is in the 70's), learn to ride a bicycle with hand brakes, navigate her way through college classes full of young people and generally become her own person. Actually, she becomes an independent person, for the first time in her life.

I can't help but wonder how deep an influence this change in her mother had on the author's life. She went from a child whose mother was likely depressed, and never did anything for herself. She ended up with a mother who received undergraduate and masters degrees, later becoming a teacher. Her daughter developed a deep love for college while observing her mother in the environment, and later received multiple degrees herself. I would venture to guess these books would not have been written had her mother not gotten off the couch.

This makes me ponder what influence as mothers our choices have on our daughters' lives. The example I hope to set for my kids is this: even though you may end up staying home raising children (which is a wonderful thing to do), don't ever lose the ability to be independent, support yourself, and provide financially for your family should it be necessary. You never know what life may bring, and the ability to adapt can provide you happiness in and of itself.

Book Review

I recently read two books written by Haven Kimmel, A Girl Named Zippy and She Got Up Off the Couch. They are a reflection of growing up small in a small town, Mooreland, Indiana (pop. 300).

The author, born in 1965, describes her quirky childhood in this smallest of towns. She is an incredible raconteur, relating comical, quirky stories that vividly describe the decidedly unusual circumstances under which she was raised. There were countless laugh out loud moments and I wholeheartedly recommend these books.

Moral Decline?

I'm as liberal as the next Chapel Hillian...I'm in favor of a woman's right to choose, same sex unions, equal pay for equal work, premarital cohabitation, sex ed in schools including contraception and abstinence, etc. Generally speaking, I try hard not to judge other people's behaviors, but this story just got me.

Mia Washington, 20, of Texas recently revealed that her twin boys, 11 months old, have different fathers. The mother said she thought they looked different and took them for a DNA test. She then admitted to her fiance (who is the father of one of the boys) that she had a fling with someone else (whom she is thankfully not identifying) at the time she got pregnant. (In case you were wondering, the technical term for this is type of twins is heteropaternal superfecundation.) Some studies show that up to 1-2% of all fraternal twins have different fathers. Others say it's one in a million. Her fiance has decided to raise both boys as his own. Ms. Washington has a 4 year old son from yet a different father and is expecting another child.

Despite my liberal views, I almost feel like this is a symbol of moral decline. I really cannot believe I am writing these words, but for some reason this story really set me off. Perhaps it's the pride exhibited by the mother that irritates me most. If it were me, I certainly wouldn't nationally publicize my promiscuity.

To put it simply, medical marvel, yes. Something I'd want to be famous for, no.

That Song

Every once in a while my family will become hooked on an artist, an album, a song. It starts innocently enough, a song that may or may not have been popular on the radio (generally speaking, radio stations are terrible here, with none that I have found playing anything interesting or progressive, but I digress) and may have inappropriate lyrics for the younger set. We buy the CD, and the song gets requested over and over and over again by passengers in the back seat of my car until every word is memorized and beyond.

The first such song I recall is "Follow Me" by Uncle Kracker (Uncle Kracker was later arrested as a sex offender in Raleigh, ewww). The lyrics had undertones of infidelity but an addictive phrase:
All you know is when I'm with you I make you free
And swim through your veins like a fish in the sea


The most recent artist, album, song combination is Jason Mraz, We Sing We Dance, We Steal Things. The song, "I'm Yours" is number 2 on the CD. "Play number 2" is the first thing requested in my car these days. The favorite phrase in this song is:
Open up your plans and damn, you're free

Personally, I think the interest in that phrase is the desire to say a "bad word" and get away with it. We also really like the way he scats and sings I'm Your-za...

Call it unenlightened, but I really don't understand a culture where a man can divorce his wife by saying "I divorce you" three times as they can in Saudi Arabia. Even worse, check out this story...divorce by text message. Good grief. I'd like to think marriage is more sacred than that in any culture.

WHERE do they come up with this stuff?

As I was working one day in my kitchen, I noticed someone in my house watching a show on Animal Planet called Groomer Has It. Basically, it's a reality TV show about dog groomers, competing against each other. There are catty contestants, strange tasks, and judges that try to create drama that shouldn't exist.

I mean really. Can we please go back to sitcoms?