Archive for June, 2020

June 24, 2020

Enough is enough

Enough is enough. 

We’ve all said it in the last few weeks. We’ve had enough. Enough of what is the main difference between us. 

What have you had enough of?

Some of us have had enough of black men and women dying senselessly at the hands of morally bankrupt police officers.  Some of us have had enough of looters stealing and protesters destroying historic statues

Which side are you on? Depends on how you see the world.

Let’s assume for a moment that racism and inequality bothers everyone. And it does, in theory. It bothers most people when they look at a photo from 1902 of a man hanging from a tree and think to themselves “Oh my god, those white people were savages. I’m not like that.” Nobody says “I’m a Racist”, right? Ok, only the super crazies do. I don’t know anyone like that (that I know of) They aren’t related to me. Just the light racists. But here’s the thing. A racist is a racist.

About a year ago, I was at a family wedding and a racist comment was made to my cousin’s non-white fiancé. We all were embarrassed by the comment so I didn’t confront the white woman who said it. And the young woman who is still engaged to my cousin didn’t condemn our entire family as racists (though, she could have). She made the decision not to make a generalization about our family. She went high, when we went low. 

Today, I regret not saying something. Getting involved felt aggressive. I don’t want her “to feel bad” because I made the assumption that she was embarrassed by her cruel comment. It felt like getting involved with something that didn’t belong to me. But I was wrong. When a racist comment goes unchecked, it’s accepted. I will not be silent anymore and I won’t ever make that mistake again. 

Our black brothers and sisters need solidarity. They need allies. Speaking up is the right thing to do because no racist behavior is acceptable. 

Tonight, some of us will watch “the news” and feel anger and frustration at people who are marching to raise awareness for much needed police reform in Seattle and Milwaukee and our entire country. You’ve missed the point of the protests. “Yeah…. ok, that cop killed a man… BUT WHAT ABOUT THE LOOTING? Yeah, the cop killed a man, BUT WHAT ABOUT PRESERVING HISTORIC STATUES?” Yeah, the cop killed a man, BUT WHAT ABOUT ALL THE GOOD COPS?” Protesting is American. We are protesting because it’s the best tool available to us. We are sayin: ENOUGH. I WANT THE WORLD TO CHANGE SO I’M CHOOSING TO SHOW UP FOR BLACK PEOPLE WHO HAVE NOT BEEN TREATED FAIRLY. Period. So stop pointing out all the ways the protesters are getting it wrong. Stop posting ‘White Lives Matter’ messages on Facebook to create a reaction from your liberal friends and family. Stop. Be quiet. Listen to the voices that haven’t had equal airtime. Black Lives Matter. Black Voices Matter.

These are not easy conversations to have. But they are worth having so we can stop the endless cycle of violence and unfairness against black people.

Want to take the first step? Great! Educating yourself is a good place to start.

I watched a documentary called True Justice: Bryan Stevenson’s Fight for Equality that is streaming free on YouTube. The film shows how white people (good people) stood by and did nothing in 1900 when black people were lynched “because they weren’t even worth putting through the legal system” so white men killed them to teach them a lesson. Today, black people are incarcerated at more than 5 times the rate of whites. The imprisonment rate for black women is twice that of white women. We don’t lynch black people. We send them to jail. Systemic racism in action. This is why we march.

None of us is free until all of us are free. 

So. We can’t leave anyone behind. We need everyone because enough is enough. Black people are not treated fairly in our country. Fairness starts with us. It starts with telling the truth about who we are. I’m looking at you, Brian. I’m looking at you, Steve. I’m looking at you, Mary. We need to all be part of the solution so we can all be free. 

What have you done to extend help to your fellow black American today? If you say “nothing”, then you are part of the problem. It’s that simple. You can no longer shake your head at the news and say “Oh, that’s too bad.” Now is the time to act. Get out of your comfort zone. My cousin, Amy helped to organize a march in her predominately white suburban neighborhood. That’s taking action! It’s a risk to extend yourself for another person. To empathize with the sufferer, and show up. And it’s inspiring! Amy is part of the solution! Be like Amy!

If marching isn’t really your thing, that’s ok. There’s a deadly virus being passed from person to person. It’s understandable. But that doesn’t excuse you from doing nothing. 

Here’s some action steps: 

  1. Find a local march and experience the solidarity of marching with your neighbors who are also taking a stand and saying “enough is enough”
  2. Donate to NAACP and/or Equal so black people get fair representation in our country
  3. Have conversations with your family and friends to ask how they are part of the solution
  4. Watch this documentary about why this is happening and the history of racism in the United States
  5. Read a book that helps you to understand racism better. Here’s a few titles to get you started:

No judgment. No “what took you so long to see the light?” We need everybody. Join us. Be part of the solution instead of part of the problem because there is no middle. Choose a side. I hope you choose love and equality for all.

June 4, 2020

Homer Rowbottom 2007-2020

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I loved him. And he loved me. We are the lucky ones.

 

June 4, 2020

 

Homer stopped eating a few days ago. I watched him carefully because everyone told me that he would tell me when he’s ready to go. I hovered over him for the past couple of weeks like any good helicopter parent. I glanced at him every few minutes to verify I could see his chest rising and so I knew he was breathing. Until today, when I knew that I had to make the ultimate sacrifice for his well-being over my desire to keep him alive because I didn’t want to live in the world without him. I don’t. Especially now. Has there been a darker time during my lifetime? I can’t recall one. Police brutality against peaceful protestors. Killer pandemic. Oh yeah, and there’s also an asteroid careening towards earth… It’s never the right time to say goodbye, but now is an especially bad time to lose my co-pilot.

 

This isn’t about me. This is a celebration and a reflection on all of the goodness Homer has heaped upon my life. For the past few months, I had been bracing for full pain impact for today when he took his last breath. I feel a bottomless pit of sadness, but I also feel big waves of the joy and unconditional love he has show me for the past 13 years. I’m so lucky he chose me on that beautiful June day in 2007 at the Wisconsin Humane Society. Homer enriched my life endlessly.

 

Anyone who has or had a dog understands. Anyone who presently has a monogamous relationship with their dog, really understands. Homer was my mate. Well, I should amend that. We aren’t lovers (ewww), but he’s a better listener, playmate, non-judging friend than any man I’ve ever dated or known. That’s because dogs are better than people. I’m not sure which Greek philosopher said this, but it’s true. Ok, I said it.

 

I named Homer “Homer” because I discovered him at the Wisconsin Humane Society on a warm and sunny day in June, 2007 just a few weeks after I bought my first home. I wanted to choose a name that represented that big moment in my life. My first home. What I didn’t know then, that I know now is that over the 13 years we spent together, Homer became my home.

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June, 2007 — about an hour after I rescued Homer (but who rescued who?)

 

Homie was the cutest puppy! Ever! And lots of people wanted him at the Humane Society that day. But I got him. He was the top prize for some good deed I did somewhere sometime.

 

Here’s just a few things that I loved and love about him:

  • Homer *always* let me sleep in whenever I wanted. He was selfless like that. And I’m not a doctor, but I think maybe his bladder was made of titanium steel. He had one accident in the house in 13 years. I am pretty sure I’ve peed on the floor more than he did.

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  • He didn’t need a leash (“um, leashes are for dogs! I am NOT a dog” – said Homer). He’d often trash-talk and chase squirrels up trees; and when a daring squirrel raced across our street, Homer, hot on its trail, screeched to a halt at the curb. So much restraint. He understood that the no-leash policy was a privilege not a right. He was so good. He was the best.
  • I could leave a dinner plate heaping with food on the eye-level coffee table and he wouldn’t touch it. He believed in the honor system.
  • He woke up the entire neighborhood when he SQUEAKED louder than the loudest car alarm to show his enthusiasm and joy to see you. Nobody was more happy to see me. Or anyone. His joy was boundless and indiscriminate.

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  • One summer several years ago, he overcame his fear of walking the plank (bravely walking on a dock) so he could go on booze cruises at my friends’ lake house. He showed me real courage so I didn’t feel so afraid in my everyday endeavors (which is a trait I’m using a lot these days).

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  • He was an excellent house guest when I traveled (and always welcome to join me at the lake). If I traveled farther than a weekend car trip, he could stay with friends who were happy to have him. I knew he’d behave so I could enjoy my adventures away from home. He missed me, but he was brave and generous like that.

  • He let me photograph him like I was William Wegman resulting in hundreds… ok, thousands of digital images of him (see MORE pix in the slideshow below). He was my muse.

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  • He was my best personal trainer and made going for walks fun. And if I only wanted to walk to the corner because I was running late… he popped a squat and pooped within 4 minutes. Homer was the all-time undisputed insta-pooper.
  • Homer loved nature and reminded me to stop to smell flowers and lilacs in our neighborhood. He appreciated the small stuff and as he aged, he walked slower and slower and found the shady spot under my magnolia to be a cozy spot.

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Homer under my magnolia

  • Everyone in our neighborhood knows Homer. Only a few people know my name.
  • He showed his love to everyone. Strangers. Me. Everybody. He didn’t play hard-to-get. And he had real favorites. He loved his Granny and kept her company while she sewed every day. He understood the power of togetherness.

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Homie and Granny doing their thing

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Homer spent lots of time in Granny’s Quilt Studio

 

And today, he leaned into the great unknown. Brave and showing no fear after dying slowly for months. Slow enough for me to grieve on layaway. I’ve been making small grief pre-payments for the last few months so today’s big grief lump sum didn’t hit me all at once.

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June 2, 2020

 

I will always love Homer more than most humans because he loved me 100% unconditionally. He loved me when I was unlovable because he didn’t think I was ever unlovable. He loved me when I was late to walk/feed him and kept him waiting and never complained or revenge peed on my favorite rug. Lots of people say they have the best dog, but we know the truth.

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A good Snuggle Party on the Couch Boat was our favorite

 

Homer was almost 13 years and 2 months old. About 92 in human years. He’s lived a wonderful long life and being 92 reminds me of another amazing bright light I admired who also left a beautiful legacy that lives on, and inspires me. Johnny Barnes believed that “life is sweet. Life is beautiful… it’s always sweet to be alive.” Homer lived by Johnny’s words.

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Last night – June 3, 2020

 

I don’t want to stop writing this because ending this is really the end. But I read that eulogies are supposed to be short. The best ones are less than 10 minutes long, so this one is already too long. But before I say goodbye for good, I want to also share my favorite EE Cummings poem that maybe shouldn’t be applied to a dog, but Homer wasn’t really a dog. Homer inhabited a physical body so I could see up close what real love looks like. And now he is a bright light who will shine brightly for me all of the rest of my days.

 

i carry your heart with me

 

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it (anywhere i go you go,

my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

 

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

 

I carry your heart, Homer. I carry it in my heart. 

 

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