My son, who is 16, just completed the first leg of his air trip to Montana to be a camp counselor on a horse ranch. He'll be there all summer. It's the first time he's ever travelled alone. Yesterday, my 13 year old daughter won a Gold Medal in the state-level Special Olympics Summer Games at Penn State for her basketball skills.

Ten years ago this week, when we brought them to America after adopting them in Russia a month earlier, we couldn't let them out of our sight for even a minute. They have changed so much.

Even with all the difficulties and losses, I have so much to be thankful for.

This is Noel. Reverb's at maximum an' I'm givin' 'er all she's got.

You're a lucky guy.

CUTBACK

That's great Noel. I was lucky enough to go to summer camp right near you in the Poconos. Some of the very best times of my childhood - Thanks Mom and Dad.

Danny Snyder

"With great reverb comes great responsibility" - Uncle Leo

Playing keys and guitar with Combo Tezeta

Formerly a guitarist in The TomorrowMen and Meshugga Beach Party

Latest surf project - Now That's What I Call SURF

My little gold medal winner is safely home in bed asleep and my son is on the ground in Montana. It's been a good day. Whew!

This is Noel. Reverb's at maximum an' I'm givin' 'er all she's got.

That's great Noel! They sure grow up fast. Mine's 41 and has 5 kids of his own. Being a grandparent is MUCH easier.

You did well!

There should be a Deep End for this sort of thing.

Last edited: Jun 12, 2011 14:19:00

Tuck wrote:

You did well!

There should be a Deep End for this sort of thing.

There is a area of Tiki Central called Ohana, which is Hawaiian for Family.
its for B-days and other personal related stuff.

Jeff(bigtikidude)

So, just when it seemed summer had started calm and predictable, my son a big success as a Christian camp counselor on the ranch in Montana and my daughter winning gold at the Special Olympics Summer Games state games ...

... during a rain storm last Friday, a young female English Pointer without identification bounds up my driveway into my open garage. My little girl looks at the wet smelly mess I bring inside, hugs her and kisses her all over and joyfully exclaims, "Daddy, you found my dog!"
It's been very eventful here since.

Other than getting out my Strat and putting it away unplayed, I haven't touched a guitar since. Trying to teach my little girl how to be a good dog owner is a full-time job. I get up to five minutes by myself at a stretch, and then I'm off to see what's going on. By the time everyone's in bed, I'm too exhausted to practice scales, let alone play anything.

Well, they both deserve nothing less, don't they? Not sure yet we can keep the dog, but we will if her first owner doesn't claim her in a couple weeks.

Here's her beauty shot:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=112167978874479&set=a.106433282781282.13783.100002438332001&type=1&theater

Teaching my daughter how to take good care of a dog takes priority over guitar playing for the time being, so I have no idea when I'll be ready for my open-mic debut as a surf musician, but I still aim to do that this year. And, I'll still be getting a bass in a couple of weeks or so. Playing them? God only knows; I sure don't.

This year so far sure isn't turning out like I planned at all; it's way better!

Happy summer, everyone.

P.S. After numerous trips to the vet, Daisy is in good health and recovering from her road trip to us. She's very well behaved. Poor thing has to wear the collar of shame to keep from chewing her injuries as they are very itchy as they heal, but she doesn't protest at all. Doesn't beg. Is perfectly house-trained. It took her only one night to choose to kennel herself in the family room at bed-time. I'm convinced she'd latch the door if she could. When we walk her, she ignores every dog in the neighborhood, no matter how crazy they get behind their invisible fences. It's another matter if she scents game; then hold on.

What are the odds a stray like this would find us? Now, if I could only play my guitar.

This is Noel. Reverb's at maximum an' I'm givin' 'er all she's got.

Last edited: Jun 22, 2011 17:27:54

Well, the last two days here have been something else. In the midst of a crisis I mowed our lawn and wrote most of this short story in my head. I finished it and thought I'd share it with you. At the bottom are links to two pictures; the first picture is the aftermath of the events in the short story. The second is of my son on the ranch in Montana.

Vagabond

A little brown-haired girl is sitting at the end of her driveway crying inconsolably, holding a new red dog leash that used to have a dog at the end of it. The little brown-haired girl is inconsolable because it was her mistake that let the dog loose, and she so desperately wanted the dog to be her dog, and she accidently pushed the wrong button on the leash. The dog wasn’t her dog. It has been a long time since anyone who has seen the dog knew who owns the dog.

The dog, a young female English Pointer, came bounding up the driveway of the little girl’s home less than a whole day earlier because the garage door was open. The girl’s dad saw the collar and tag on the dog when she came right up to him, so he took the dog by the collar and brought her out of the rain and into the life of the little brown-haired girl who is his daughter.

The little brown-haired girl has wanted a dog for a very long time, but she is both fascinated by dogs and terrified of them, so a dog has been on the wait and see list, until her dad took the dog inside. The girl saw the dog and asked if it was her dog. She loved the dog immediately, unafraid and joyful. It was, she said, her dog. The dog was a mess. Wet from the rain, smelly from the life she’d been living, emaciated, hungry, thirsty, dirty. The little brown-haired girl didn’t care. She hugged the dog and held the dog and kissed the dog and the dog let her. Know what a happy dog is? That was a happy dog, and a happy little girl.

The collar and tag didn’t belong to the little female English Pointer wearing them, but to a dog owned by the family at the other end of the phone number on the tag. The dog found them three days earlier and had escaped from them that morning. As they already had enough dogs, they didn’t mind if they didn’t get this dog back.

So, while the little brown-haired girl’s dad kept the little lost dog company, the girl and her mom bought and roomy kennel, dog food, dog biscuits, dog toys, medicated dog shampoo, and the new red leash the girl now held onto with a sinking heart, so sorry she pushed the wrong button and let her dog loose.

The vet said the dog was healthy enough to make a good recovery and just needed several medicines to treat her various minor problems. And the vet said the dog needed lots of love. The little brown-haired girl kept telling everyone the dog was her dog. Her parents kept saying, maybe, if her real owner doesn’t come for her, then the little female English Pointer could stay, and really be her dog.

It turns out the dog isn’t anyone’s dog. She’s a vagabond. Stop here for a meal, there for another. Stay a while at one home and then find a way to move on. The little female English Pointer is no tramp of a dog. She’s a polite, gentile, quiet little lady of a dog. When she trotted down the driveway from the garage she’d entered less than a whole day earlier, leaving the crying little brown-haired girl behind, she gave one glance back but never stopped or even slowed. She turned to go down the road in the same direction she’d been travelling when she took the detour up the driveway, and disappeared out of sight as quickly as she’d appeared.

There’s a chance in a few days, when the dog gets hungry enough, that she’ll run up to another kind person who’ll call the number on the dog tag, and be given the phone number of the little brown-haired girl’s dad. He said he’ll go get the dog and bring her back. He’s also very glad he didn’t get the new collar he looked at while at the vet’s. That’s not enough to console the little girl now, who has promised not to push any more buttons on dog leashes. She wants a dog more than ever now, but she wants her own dog back most of all, a dog she loved with all her heart, which is the only way little girls can love dogs, for less than a whole day.

Her dad keeps checking the front porch, right at the door mat, where the little vagabond dog waited patiently on the long tether the day before for him to come outside and sit with her. He knows she won’t come back that way, on her own, but he looks outside anyway.

The phone call came. The vagabond dog found someone else who called the number on the dog tag, and got told to call the little brown-haired girl’s dad, who went and picked up the small female English Pointer who will never stop trying to go over the next hill to see what is there. She’s home again, for now, or maybe for a very long time, maybe for the rest of her life. The little brown-haired girl isn’t crying anymore, and they’re sitting together once again on the front porch.

The little brown-haired girl (my daughter) and her lost and found dog.
http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=2068438824130&set=a.2068435344043.2115345.1039617238&type=1&theater

My son in Montana.
http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=2068452264466&set=a.2068435344043.2115345.1039617238&type=1&theater

This is Noel. Reverb's at maximum an' I'm givin' 'er all she's got.

Last edited: Jun 25, 2011 16:41:52

This is all true.

Q: How many adults does it take to put a 16 year-old on an airplane?
A: Apparently, one more than there are.

So far Henry has missed two flights home from Montana. Really! He was supposed to fly out on Aug 9, but nobody remembered in time. Not us way out here in the East, not the people he was staying with on the ranch. Today, he missed his replacement flight because he remembered, at the last minute, he hadn't bought a gift for his sister. Out he walked, with no time to spare, past the security gate to the gift shop. When he tried to go back through security, as his name is being called to report to the departure gate, the checkpoint is closed; everyone's on break. Together. All of them. Everyone was SUPPOSED to be on their plane. By the time the security people come back, the plane is gone.

It's actually very funny, not cheap, but very funny. But Henry can't see the humor in it. Yet. Now, if he misses his flight tomorrow .....

This is Noel. Reverb's at maximum an' I'm givin' 'er all she's got.

Last edited: Aug 14, 2011 21:17:07