Hannah, The Great

I first met Hannah about five years ago when my partner and I split up. I lived in the guest room at Hannah's house for a while. Each night I would climb into bed with my yearling, Grace, and start to cry. This would trouble Grace and she did not know what to do. So Hannah would nudge the door open, come over to the edge of the bed, and place her head near my pillow to check on me. She would lick my tears if needed and once she realized I was alright she would do a couple of circles at the foot of the bed and turn to face the door. She was determined that nothing else bad would happen to me.

In the morning, I would let Hannah and Grace out the back door and watch them race down the deck stairs. Then I would go back upstairs to pull it together for the day. I would be shaving and out the window I would see my yellow lab flash by, followed by the black and grey blur. Around and around the house the two of them would chase each other until it was time to come in and eat breakfast.

Time has taken a toll on the old girl. This weekend Matt, Jenny and I went on a walk through the brillant fall woods with Hannah and four of her canine friends. As we headed down the path, she started looking around as if she were working for the police department. When we got to a steep bank at the river, we let the the two Labs jump in for a swim. Hannah stood up on the bank, pulling Matt towards the water like a puppy, because she wanted to swim too, but we knew she could not get back up the bank. By the time we ended our walk she was dragging her feet through the pine needles and needed to be lifted into the back of a Surburu. This need for help was a far cry from her days of leaping into the bed of the F-150 pickup.

Hannah has been around for nearly fourteen years. It is good to see she still has a bit of the spice, love and spark that makes her Hannah, the Great.

Grace

Daily, Grace is my buddy, my nuisance, my bed-warmer, my frustration, and my delight.

This morning we spent outside in the frosty sunshine. First, we went to the farmer's market where she pulled me from stand to stand and I could not find any flowers. The blooms all froze last night. Next, we stopped at Stone Brothers to get some leaf bags. Grace stuck her head out the car window to flirt with the garden specialists. After we got home, I spent the rest of the morning in the yard raking leaves. She watched me until I had a nice pile. Then she rolled around in them and pulled her tether through them. When she bored of messing up my piles of leaves, she barked and tried to climb up into trees to get the squirrels that are building nests up above. As I stood watching her I told a passing neighbor, "she is crazy," and she said, "she's just like you."

It had been a busy morning and it was time for a nap.

When I woke up she was in a curl right beside me. The sun was sparkling through the window and landing right on her head. I sat up and watched her sleeping for a minute. As I leaned towards her, she opened her eyes and started wagging her tail. When I started talking to her, she got up and started licking my mouth, my nose and my eyes. I started to giggle and she shook her tail so hard she fell down.

We do adore each other.

Not So Bad After All

I spent Halloween evening sitting on the front porch of a southern home. As the costume-clad children climbed the steps to receive a treat, they faced eight adults sitting in a semicircle with wine glasses in hand. Talk about scary! Some of the kids walked right up. Others got wide-eyed and approached timidly. I ended up being the greeter and directed them to the candy man who was sitting in the middle of the group.

The costumes ranged from a perfect three year old Dracula to a thirteen-year-old Marie Antoinette complete with powdered wig. Watching the variety of children made me realize all those NPR stories about immigration must be true. Many of the young children were Hispanic children in adorable costumes escorted by their beautiful young mothers. About a third of the candy seekers were older African American children escorting their younger brothers and sisters and cousins. The final third of the trick-or-treaters were some preteen white kids roaming the neighborhood in groups.

The night ended as I looked over my shoulder to see my former students, now middle schoolers, sitting in a circle on the opposite side of the porch trading candy in the Martha Stewart glow of the evening.

Halloween

Halloween is not my favorite holiday. Like most holidays I find them over rated.

Besides huge candy hauls and peeing on myself when I was little, only one Halloween sticks out in my mind. It was the fall of 1988 at 615 North Lincoln, Bloomington IN. Barb and I decided on the way to Marching Hundred practice that we were having an impromptu costume party. We spread the word at rehearsal and started preparing the minute we got home.

Barb dressed as a bullfighter and carried a red towel. I became Robert Smith with way too much gel and hairspray in my hair. The party was a smash. Costumes attending ranged from a perfect Audrey Hepburn and a handsome Prince, to an award decorated blue sweater. Later in the evening the party moved to Bullwinkle's for further dancing. That one perfect Halloween ended not far from Kirkwood Ave as the lead singer of The Cure made out with Prince.

I've Begun

I am always telling the kids in my class that they have to write a lot. That they need to write for an audience and the only way to get better is to write. Well, I guess it is time for me to write too. I have been considering a blog for a while now but when friend recently asked me, "Why aren't you blogging?"

I had no response for her question except the lame ones that my students give me, "I don't have anything to write about" or "I don't have any interesting stories" or "it is too hard." As a good teacher I always say, "Of course you have something to write about you were just outside on the playground weren't you?" or "You have me in your life. That has got to be interesting" or "lots of things in life are hard, but you have to do them anyway."

So here goes. I am starting my blog. Before my next post, I hope I find something to write about, or that my life gets more interesting, or that I find it not too hard.

Jeff