Fate of the Throw Backs

Fish Lake in NE Washington

Oregon is a fisherperson's paradise. The waters of Oregon provide habitat for over a 100 species of freshwater fish, including trout, bass, salmon, shad, sucker, and the list goes on and on. Sadly, I have not fished the waters of Oregon myself in spite of being in a boat many times. I have enjoyed the rivers and lakes without a pole so my fishing memories are tied to my younger days where I fished alongside my Dad or Grandpa. 

In Oregon (as in most states) there are rules for fishing. Criteria for keeping fish include length, species, or an indication that the fish is from a hatchery. At some lakes, native fish and very young fish are returned to the environment to protect habitat and the species.  The state imposes a limit on the number of fish that can be taken in a day. Once a fisher reaches the limit, additional fish are required to return to the water. 

Back when I fished with Dad and Grandpa, the "throw backs" were the undesirable catches. Often a carp, a pike, or a fish too tiny to be worth eating. I sometimes heard other animals and even people referred to as "throw backs".  Nobody wants to be a "throw back." 

However, consider the point of view of the fish. The young fish, the native fish, the undesirable fish and the one caught after the limit is reached, get to live!! They escape certain death and swim away. That fish is never the same because it has been on the hook and/or in the boat if only for a minute. It returns to the water knowing something it didn't know before. 

We have all heard stories of a giant fish in a pond that nobody could ever catch. Perhaps that fish was a throw back. Now he is the stuff of legends since he learned to avoid the hooks that could have ended him. 

My little fish. It's not Nemo!! It's a goldfish. 

If you ponder a moment and remember a time when you thought you were an undesirable "throw back," then perhaps you can understand the state of the that little fish. Take the time to be grateful for a little pain that taught you something important that saved your future. 

Here's to the throw backs: . Swim!! Swim!! Swim!!

lw

Generosity

Is there anything more generous in this world than a tended garden? Gardens provide the beauty of flowers, a bounty of fruits and vegetables, and habitat for bees and birds.  Some plants are generous enough to reappear every year without much input from outsiders. Plants have no expectations of anything in return for their generosity since they “know” nothing. While the garden expects nothing, without the water to give it life, the garden’s generosity cannot be.

My hope for myself and my readers is that soaking in the water of life produces for each of us a bounty as generous as a tended garden and that our fruit is kindness, forgiveness, and love. 

lw

A garden from my sketch book. Oh for the day when strawberries grow with pumpkins. : ) 

What Gratitude Looks Like

Imagine an old-timey lamp post, the type your grandmother had in her front yard. The black metal pole with a lantern on top rising from the greenish grass. The frosted lantern bulb is heart shaped. When activated with a simple switch the lamp grows bright, pushing back the darkness, illuminating the house, the yard, and the life of the activator. When the switch is activated several times, beautiful fireworks expand across the night spraying wonder through the darkness. The timer on the lamp stops the display at a random moment and darkness closes in again. The activator needs only to tap the switch again to bring back the shine and beauty. 

Gratitude can be difficult to muster in times when your life just sucks.  Sometimes the switch is easy to reach and sometimes I have to work really hard to even find the dang thing. And when I do find it, the light shines and there is revelation. 

For those who like visuals,
enjoy my 3rd grade art version.

Things That Make Me Go..........Aaaaah!

Experiences that make us really happy are fleeting. So here is my attempt to journal the things that make me go .........ahhhhh!

When competing in a flyball tournament, I get to watch my excited dogs run like the wind, their bouncing butts flying over hurdles, toward a wonderful prize called tennis ball. I love those bouncing butts. As a bonus I get to see their happy faces coming back to me with the expectation of the tasty treat to come. My hands rub them and rev them and we do it again and again until our day is done.

Banks-Vernonia Linear Park

I love to ride my bike along the green lined trails. The Banks trails is all uphill until you get to the top. The ride down is worth the painful climb. I sometimes laugh out loud as nothing can quell the joy conjured by a hiss of wind in my ears, a cool breeze on my face, and the occasional bug up my nose. Speed produces enough adrenaline to give me an uncommon lift without giving me a heart attack.

I think most people have a song! Is there a certain song that generates a smile in your heart as you belt it out in the car when you are stuck in stupid traffic?  For me the songs are Journey's "Don't Stop Believin",  Elton John's "Rocket Man", and Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody."  When I hear those songs, I must sing. I forget my troubles for 2.5 minutes and sing (and not well either). If there is someone in the car with me, I sing anyway and encourage participation. If s/he elects silence or complaint, I sing louder.

On the rare occasion when a cool morning drives me and the dogs under the comforter and I actually have an extra hour to snuggle them while drifting in and out of reality, I remember that even though the little mutts drive me to drink sometimes, we are fortunate to have each other. I scratch their ears and rub their bellies. Sonic melts. Pi growls at me as usual. They keep me sane (as much as that is possible) and they keep me coming home at night. To come home to no pointed ears to scratch would suck.

I leaned on a rail of the upper deck at my friend's home in Seattle last 4th of July. I had a glass of wine, good food, friends I loved, my dogs and theirs. I was barefoot and in a skirt. I hadn't worn one in years. The sky was lit up in three directions.  Was it the wine, the skirt, the fireworks, or the company? The summation was a rare moment when life seemed stainless and ideal.

Just thinking about these things makes  me go ..........ahhhhhhh!

Frosting the Cake

Cake is an interesting dessert. Bakers decorate cakes with whipped cream, frosting flowers, little objects, pictures, and messages. Regardless of the what's on the outside, when you cut into it, it's still just cake. Maybe chocolate, or lemon, or just plain white........but cake nonetheless. Sometimes that frosting is so thick on a piece of cake, that I will cut it off and toss it. The cake is really the good part.

I think humans are much like cakes. We decorate ourselves with appearances, education, work, money, and a plethora of  belief systems.  In the end, when we look at the inside, we are all imperfect humans, each of us flavored slightly differently. Sometimes the frosting of life is so thick that nobody has any idea what flavor the human cake actually is.

I recently had to come to terms with my own "cake-ness" and accept that I am what I am. The DNA won't change, no matter how hard I work or what belief systems I have implemented. It is not an easy idea to master after 50 years of frosting oneself.

lw

Hello, Texas.......

I was back in Amarillo for some time with family and friends. In Texas, one experiences all kinds of things one doesn't  get in Portland. In case you haven't been to Amarillo, I will hit the highlights.

Yup! Those are cows in the city.

1. SUNSHINE ( and flat brown landscape)  Although the sun was shining, the wind chill set the temp about 10 degrees lower. The air was so dust ridden that the sky spit an odd type of mud for a few minutes.  Any dryer and I would have disintegrated into a pile of crumbs like a crushed saltine, been swept into an envelope, and mailed back to Portland. It ain't pretty compared Portland, and if you are there long enough, you get used it .

6 kinds of Mac & just gettin' started

2. MAC & CHEESE - I had never been to a Mac & Cheese cook off. I sampled about 24  takes on this old time comfort food. Some were original and super tasty. Others made me want to spit. (I actually did spit a few times.) I have no idea who won the contest as my family was done eating and headed towards the nearest couches. Even taking only a bite or two of each caused me to swell up like the blueberry girl in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I did manage to waddle out on my own without a trip to the juicing room.

Bucket o' Coke

3. EVERYTHING'S BIGGER - Ordered a tall and got the PDX equivalent of grande. Ordered a glass and got a bucket. The ribs and brisket at the local BBQ joint are served by the POUND with an entire loaf of white bread. The Chicken fried steaks are the size of a plate served in a mini swimming pool of country gravy. The trash cans are enormous too, and they are right behind everyone's house. Imagine being able to legally throw away a chair or a dead goat right behind your house. If you are from PDX, you can't. If you are from Texas, no problem.

Mandy

4. ANIMALS EVERYWHERE - My sister has a horse in her backyard. When I was a little kid my babysitter told me how a horse killed her daughter. Ever since I have been terrified of the hoofed beasts. I overcame this deadly story and mustered the courage to feed Mandy. I am grateful that I didn't die.

Buddy

My mother's Brittany is one of the dumbest dogs I have ever met.  He runs the fence line non stop, has jumped through closed (yes, I said closed) windows, destroyed blinds and bedding, and gone AWOL so many times, mom has lost count. In spite of his insanity, this dog is makes me smile every time he sheds his white hair all over my black jeans. He sits with his crossed paws and throws his simpleton gaze straight at my heart. He subbed in for my own kids so I didn't dissolve from lack of dog love while I was away.



In spite of all these great benefits, I am glad to be back in Portland where a tall is a tall, it rains all winter,  and I can't throw any large animals in the trash by my house. I missed you Portland. It's good to be home.
lw

Living with Therapy Dogs

For the last 15 years I have lived with Therapy Dogs, until now. I said goodbye to latest Therapy Dog in my life just after Christmas. I hope to live with one again someday.

Therapy Dog visits often provided the background for some amazing stories. Daniel, my first therapy dog, was an opportunist and a master manipulator.  We visited assisted living and nursing facilities. He worked with disabled children. He went to work with me everyday in the dog rehab clinic where he motivated other dogs to try things they may not have tried. For the most part he was unflappable. Escalators, elevators, moving sidewalks, airplane and train rides phased him not. He won over everyone he met. 

I used to say that he could perform Jedi mind tricks. "That is not the sandwich you are looking for. Move that sandwich over here." Gulp! 

In once instance, while on a visit in a rec room of a nursing home, he elected to investigate the crackle of an elderly gentleman's potato chip bag. He raised his nose and applied the Jedi mind tricks. The man promptly bopped him square on the head with his fist. Daniel reeled from the impact for a nanosecond and was all set to try again as I intervened. 

In that same facility, one resident used to sneak him cheese puffs. She thought I didn't know. However, Daniel's ability to track this person from anywhere in the facility, tipped me off. Not to mention the cheese powder on his white lips. We secretly called her "Cheetoh Lady". 

Our work netted him awards from Oregon Animal Hall of Fame and the Delta Society. There was no better therapy animal anywhere. 

As Daniel aged, I thought it best to bring in another Therapy Dog. Casey May had retired from flyball due to a neck injury, and since she liked people I introduced her to a second career. She  took to it happily and it was great for me to have a dog small enough to carry around and put on laps. As she aged she agreed to be carried even more. 

We found her niche as one of the first "Read to the Dogs" dogs at the Hillsboro Library. At the age of 13 she let me know that she was ready to retire when a rambunctious  youngster shoved her nose straight into Casey's face. Her lips went up and the white teeth against her black fur shone forth like sunshine on metal forks. I intervened on her behalf and distracted the child. When she did it a second time, I stopped the visit and took her home. She had run out of patience and I honored her decision to become Princess Couch Potato. 

As Casey was near the end of her career I borrowed, Robert, from my sister.  In some ways he reminded me of the "other brother Daryl" from the Newhart show. However, his sweet nature made it easy to forget that he wasn't too bright.  He was ecstatic to take Casey's place at the library. Each time he got a bath, he spent the entire day pacing about and waiting by the front door in anticipation of his visit. His one downfall was that he would get car sick and he would often present me with his last treat or meal in the car on the way to or from the library. The librarians would feed him Beggin Strips and other questionable treats. I always let him take the loot knowing that I might get it back in the car. In spite of this, I wasn't going to deny him. He did the work and deserved the rewards. He was favorite of kids and library staff. 

 He was not unflappable like Daniel, nor was he a princess like Casey May. He was just a really, really good dog who loved his belly rubbed. We miss him at our house. We miss them all.

Casey May Junebug, 1996-2014

Robert Francis Vanderbison, 2005-2015

Daniel P. Spaniel, 1994-2010