We went straight from Robin Gibbon’s house to Main Street, the Battenkill Bookstore, The Round House Cafe, and then to the Mansion assisted care facility. It was a triumphal tour, Gus was quite remarkable, he loved everyone he met, was calm and charming.
It was a tough transition for him, he had just left his mother and siblings behind and was seeing a lot of strange people and places, but he was game, we did amazingly well for the first day. People sure love puppies, and people need cheering up these days. In a sense this was Gus’s debut as a therapy dog, and he passed with flying colors.
He seemed right at home in the bookstore, and Connie nearly melted away. Good boy, I said, bookstores are important to us. He seemed to get that.
At home, we sat out in the yard, played with him, got to know each other. He was wary of the donkeys. Fate was, for her, gracious until she tried to steal Gus’s toy back she barked and snarled a bit, but normal dog posturing. I think she has accepted him very well.
We’re taking him to the hardware store and then to the Round House for pizza. More photos coming. A great first day.
I feel like one of those strange people posting puppy videos on You Tube, perhaps that’s because I am one of those people. Gus has a great first day. We picked him up at ll a.m., Robin Gibbons gave us a wonderful gift bag to take home, she is sweet and classy.
She was also have to have her house back and get some sleep. We took Gus on a whirlwind tour of the town, poor dog, we went straight to the Round House, the Battenkill Book Store, and then the Mansion Assisted Care Facility. Gus is a bit hit, as most puppies would be.
We showed him the donkeys (he was not much interested) introduced him to Fate, who tried to terrorize him briefly but seems to be accepting him well, except she doesn’t want him playing with any of her things. She barked at him a few times, but then settled down.
We had a joyous hour out in the yard scratching bellies, getting to know one another. I put the camera aside this afternoon, I just wanted him to get a chance to bond with me and Maria, which seems to have happened already. He is a calm and loving creature, and quite playful. He is already beginning to come when called, does not yet know his name.
I’ll put some photos up, we are happy to have him.
We set up Gus’s crate yesterday, we partitioned it off to help with his housebreaking, and because the crate is a place to rest and sleep. (Fate’s crate is on the left, she happily rushes inside when we go out.)
There will be food and fresh water during the day – Gus will be fed there for a few weeks to avoid confusion and conflict with the other dogs and to help him acclimate – there will be some puppy chews and some soft toys.
His name is Gus, but I love calling him the Wizard Master, he looks just like Yoda. It’s 10:30 here and we’re going to get him at ll or so. We’ll drive him around a bit to show him to some friends and bring him on home. More later.
It has long been said about politics that it is essentially about how the rich can oppress the poor, keep them powerless, and take their money. My first editor put it another way as I began my journalistic career by covering a press conference at the Atlantic City, N.J., City Hall: “son,” he said, “just about every story you will cover there is the same story – the rich screwing the poor, again and again.”
This seemed hyperbolic to me, but I came quickly to see the wisdom of it. Today, it is even more true when when I first heard it, or perhaps it is fairer to say it is as true.
The famed British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli struggled with the gap between the rich and the poor, and it is believed that gap is growing wider and faster in America than almost any other so-called civilized or “advanced” nation.
Disraeli described the divide in this way: “Two nations between whom there is no intercourse and no sympathy; who are as ignorant of each other’s habits, thoughts, and feelings, as if they were dwellers in different zones, or inhabitants of different planets. The rich and the poor.”
If you close your eyes for a minute – I did – you can imagine Disraeli doing a stand-up in Washington, saying the very same thing about America today.
Former basketball star Charles Barkley, of all people, echoed Disraeli recently when he said succinctly that “all politics is about rich people screwing the poor.” How curious when Charles Barkley has more clarity and vision than the people we elect to lead our country.
I feel as if I am living in two nations, between whom there is no longer any real intercourse or dialogue, who are as ignorant of each other’s habits, thoughts and feelings as if they were dwellers on different planets, or inhabitants of different zones. The rich and the poor, the left and the right.
Perhaps the rich are finally coming out into the open, and screwing the poor without abandon or apology, perhaps there is no longer any reason to hide behind faux compassion or the idea that we are all responsible for one another, even if we can’t transform reality or work miracles.
We used to at least pretend that is unacceptable to screw the children of the poor, nobody is pretending about that any more either.
My family and my faith and my journalism and my live have taught me that the benchmark of humanity, of every major religion on the earth, of every human I have ever respected or admired, has been concern for the poor, even as many of understand there will always be the rich and the poor.
Pope Francis speaks to my heart and faith and my conscience when he says “we have to state, without mincing words, that there is an inseparable bond between our faith and the poor. May we never abandon them.”
You can read other quotes from Francis about the poor here. He also asks us to consider how much money each of us really needs to live in this world. I, for one, have less money than ever, and have never felt richer.
Today, in our upended culture, it feels as people of faith are largely silent, and people who profess to be of faith are acting out the world’s oldest story, they have abandoned the poor.
There is an inseparable bond between my faith and the poor and vulnerable. Selfishly, it may be that show me how to be a human, something I have always aspired to be and will never stop pursuing.
For some creative people – me, I think – inspiration comes most from the outside. For an artist like Maria, it comes from the inside, deep inside of her subconscious. When I sit down to write, I usually know what I am going to write about, if not exactly what to say. I am affected by what i see, by what people say to me, by what the dogs and animals so, sometimes by the news.
Maria has no idea what she is going to create when she goes into her studio on some days, she can’t explain it, doesn’t talk about it, her conscious self doesn’t really even know. Her work is an assortment of dreams, memories, fears, passions, feelings, and they all come in her quite individualistic work. Maria is not like anyone else, she is herself.
Yesterday, I went into her studio and saw this quite surprising new creation, she told me she had no idea what it was, and said I should stop asking her about it, she didn’t have any answers.
It struck me as a staff, something a Roman general might be carrying when he marched into Rome, or something more spiritual, a kind of goddess or mystical image. Today, on her blog, Maria called it a “Dream Scepter,” the first time I heard or saw her put a name on it.
And several people have already inquired about buying it. (I don’t know if it is for sale or not.) Maria has this idea that people will make up their own minds about what it is and what it means, she doesn’t tell people what to think, an ideal with both share. I know it is not like anything I have seen her do.
Maria and I are close, obviously, but we have very separate spheres. Mine is my writing, hers is her art. I think she is closer to my writing than I am to her art, mostly because I like to show her what I am writing often, and I value her opinion about it. She never tries to edit me, but she will tell me if something touches her, and that is valuable to me. She has good instincts.
I have nothing to say about her art as she prepares it, I have no expertise, and I am not invited. That is a good and healthy thing, because people who are close need to be especially careful about boundaries. It is easy to get identities mixed up.
Maria never gives me ideas about my writing, and I never make suggestions to her about her art. This work really surprised me, and I just didn’t know what to make it it. This morning, I was carrying it around the farm like a flag, it has a lot of mojo. Your idea is as good as mine. I hope she decides to keep it, I think it would be happy in a corner of the living room, or next to my muse in my study.
