I don’t recall when I first became interested in Watergate, but I do remember scurrying home from Washington elementary school when I was in the fourth grade to watch the Watergate hearings on television. Much of it was beyond my comprehension, however, I was picking up on enough to understand most of what was happening.

In mid July 1974, my grandparents took me to Norfork Virginia to visit my uncle Ron who was in the Navy. On the way, we stopped at Thomas Jefferson’s home, Monticello, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Even my grandfather said he wanted to go back at some point.  After spending some time with my uncle in Norfork, we drove up the eastern coast of Virginia and stopped at Washington’s birthplace site, and Mount Vernon. My grandmother had visited Mount Vernon during her senior high school trip in 1940, and remembered loving her time spent there. There were several pictures of her taken in the garden seated on the wrought-iron benches. It is now a family tradition during our own visits that we also have our photograph taken on those iron benches in the garden of Mount Vernon.

Aside from seeing my uncle Ron, the next several days became the true highlight for that trip. My grandfather contacted Congressman Elwood “Bud” Hillis and one of Indiana’s senators, Vance Hartke. At the age of nine, I only recall the senator having the personality of a dead frog. He seemed to be so disinterested in his visiting constituents. Congressman Hillis, on the other hand, quickly became one of my childhood heroes. He personally walked us across the road to the Supreme Court building where Chief Justice Earl Warren was lying in state. As we returned, a limousine pulled up to the steps of the Senate and a gentleman stepped from the car. Our congressmen rushed us over to the car to introduce us. We were introduced to VP Gerald Ford. I will never forget the tremendous kindness, and the sincere interest he displayed. Today, 39 years later, I am still deeply touched that this man, bearing a tremendous burden of what was to come, could be so genuine and act as if he had no other cares in the world save talking to us. VP Ford was not a politician; he was a man of the people, a true servant.

Several weeks later my parents and I were vacationing at Myrtle Beach. I was playing down in the pool with some kids I had met when Mother came to the balcony of the hotel and urged me to hurry upstairs. Pres. Nixon was addressing the nation.

The next morning, my parents held up our planned time to go to the beach so I could stay inside the hotel room to observe Pres. Nixon’s farewell to his staff in the East Room of the White House. I was transfixed, and still to this day, I am deeply moved by the video recordings of that tender moment in our nation’s history.

Years later, I remember reading an interview where Alice Roosevelt, watching President Nixon’s farewell from her home, was shocked to learn something about her own father.  During Pres. Nixon’s farewell to his staff, he quoted a passage from Pres. Theodore Roosevelt’s diary that shed some light on the tragic loss of his first wife, Alice. Pres. Roosevelt’s daughter, Alice, was not aware of this particular moment pertaining to her birth-mother who died within hours of her own birth. I always thought it was pretty neat that Alice Roosevelt, a White House bride in 1906, also attended the 1972 White House wedding for Trisha Nixon.

For me, Pres. and Mrs. Ford seemed like my first real connection to the presidency. I think it helped they had four children, who were not much older than me; that made them seem more real, more one of us.

The following spring, my fourth grade class put together a cookbook. We were each assigned to bring in one or two recipes from our mothers. I brought in a recipe from my mother, and also wrote to the White House to obtain Mrs. Ford’s favorite recipe. Within a few weeks, I arrived home from school to find a large manila envelope with the words The White House in the upper left-hand corner. Inside was a form letter from Mrs. Ford’s secretary, a recipe for baked turkey casserole, and a half-dozen postcards of the first family. All the contents from this envelope are still in my possession. Many years later, following the televised funeral services for Pres. Ford, my sons and I sat down to Mrs. Ford’s recipe for baked turkey casserole.

Through the years, I’ve enjoyed reading about Watergate, and especially, the Nixon administration. I clearly remember Pres. Nixon’s funeral in 1994, followed a month later by Jacqueline Kennedy’s funeral. When I went to Washington DC for my annual Memorial Day concert festivities, the flags were still at half mast in honor of Pres. Nixon.

I’ve read his books, and I have always been impressed with the man’s incredible intelligence and knowledge of American and international politics. Despite the flaws and treachery that brought down his administration, for me personally, Pres. Nixon was still a great president.

His second inauguration, January 20, 1973, was the first one I ever witnessed. I have not missed watching a presidential inauguration since that day.

Last night I began my ninth year working Beavercreek high school’s show choir camp. It is one of my favorite weeks in the summer, and last night was especially enjoyable. I had to returning instrumental combo members who graduated this past spring. I began working with Mark Monroe and Kevin Mot the summer before they started their freshman year of high school. It has been both a joy and an honor to watch these two fine young man mature through the years as musicians, and as young men.

Yes your middle combo completely sight read the entire show by evenings and. Each year, the combo has gotten better and better during camp week.

I returned home to two very excited pups, eager for their evening walk. Since I’ve been away for four hours, the kids got a little longer walk class night.

I was in bed by midnight, but it was a while before I fell asleep. This is become a typical pattern. It is now 7:15 AM, and I am just rousing myself from bed. I’ve been awake since 4:30 AM, determined to return to sleep; however, that was not in the cards.

My dear friend, Jeff Carter, posted this on his blog and I love it. I feel some validation in this explanation!

From Eli Bishop’s blog. Please visit http://elibishop.com for more exciting blog entries.

10 Myths About Introverts

As is typical with me, I tore into supper preparations without a plan.  Sometimes, they work; sometimes, they do not.

Tonight worked!

I pulled a pound of ground chuck from the freezer to thaw, and during a break in lessons, I decided to prep it.  I tossed it into the skillet, resting on the counter.  I began mincing some garlic, then chopped an onion and green pepper.  I figured I would add it to mac & cheese.

Well, then I realized I still had two baking potatoes.

I cannot do mac & cheese with potatoes.  Too much… to much… starch or something.  I still do not understand all of those things, and while I am try to be more health conscious, I probably should.  It’s way too much effort for me, and at this stage in life, I honestly don’t care… my doctor and endocrinologist cover those items.

So… I considered adding rice and making… making… something… I went ahead and began browning the meat.  Then, I realized I had some diced tomatoes.

OK… let’s add that in.  Oh!  And two eggs – meatloaf!  I hate meatloaf with all the ketchup and spices.  I added enough spices: salt, ground pepper, some Kansas City steak seasoning, oregano and something else.  No ketchup.

Baked for about 40 minutes (since I had already browned it) at 375.

Man!

Homemade meatloaf and a baked potato!  I am sure Julia Child could have cooked circles around me in the meatloaf department, however, this suited me just fine!

As one of my former students, Marlyn Strickland, now a band director and a former participant with the Madison Scouts drum corps, wrote earlier: the Madison Scouts are in the house!

And, are they ever!

They arrived in Kettering sometime yesterday afternoon and spent a good number of hours practicing on our backfield with the marching band practices at the high school. There was a great deal of excitement generated around the high schools campus.

At 8:30 PM, Sunday evening, the Madison Scouts put on a special performance for the citizens of Kettering and others. One of the most beautiful moments I believe I have ever witnessed in 33 years of watching drum Corps, was when the Madison Scouts saying, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” Only last week, as Flyer was beginning her final journey, one of the Fairmont percussion instructors, Jeff Brooks, sent me a link to the video of the Madison Scouts singing this song. Last night, their performance of this beautiful Rodgers and Hammerstein classic was not sad, but very uplifting, and extremely reassuring.

This morning, as I sit on my deck enjoying breakfast in the cool breeze blowing from the south, the neighborhood is alive with the sound of marching band and drum corps. I can hear the metallic click of the metronome from the back fields of the high school where I presume the marching band is practicing.

The Madison Scouts buses, trucks and vans have taken over the front parking lot. By 7 AM, the long tables were set up for the breakfast line. Some of the marchers are enjoying breakfast on the front lawn, some are walking and talking, and a good many others are enjoying a morning jog around our beautiful Kettering neighborhoods. Having had so many connections to drum corps throughout the past 33 years, I am happy hour school and marching band open the doors for these young athletic musicians, and that we have a comfortable, beautiful and homey community for them to experience.

A big shout out to all my many friends throughout the years, and current and former students who dedicate many weekends of the spring, and their entire summers to these great adventures on the marching field with Drum Corps International. All too often our remarkable athletes and spectacular Olympians receive so much laud and praise for their talents, endurance and victories, however, each summer thousands of music athletes and Olympians take to the field with many DCI ensembles. It is all work; many grueling hours in the hot sun, sleeping on gym floors or in buses, not showering every day, constant practices every chance they get. But, what a vast amount of memories, friendships and a renewal to their foundation in the spirit of dedication, persistence, work ethic, and their passion for music and marching.

God bless all these young musicians for all their work each summer.

Saturday was packed full, and I loved every minute of it.

I met with Raymonde Rougier, a retired music teacher and legendary accompanist in the Miami Valley, met me at Awesome Yogurt for some yummy fro-yo and to discuss working with a blog. I am excited Raymonde is now a blogger – her humor is very Erma Bombeckesque.

I had a wonderful lunch with a former student who is heading off to his first choral directing position in Tennessee.  Very excited for Trey, and so good to spend some time with this talented young man – now, a colleague.

1:40 PM I was in the lobby of the Human Race’s Loft Theatre to enjoy two new musicals in workshop.

2:00 PM – we thoroughly enjoyed, and howled to the incredibly hilarious, THE NOTEWORTHY LIFE OF HOWARD BARNES, written by composer Michael Kooman, and lyricist/librettist Christopher Dimond.

5:00 PM – dinner at Salas in the Oregon District with my theatre companions, Suzanne Grote, Becky Brunsman, and Aaron Jacobs.

8:00 PM – back at the Human Race for the second musical in workshop, GUARDING GOLD STREET by composer/book writer Sean Michael Flowers, and librettist Marya Spring Cordes.

By 9:45 PM my little quartet was breaking up and spreading out.  At home, I had two kids delighted to see me.  We went for our walk, and had some snuggle time before I trotted upstairs to bed.

The weather could not have been better accompaniment to the score I composed as “My Sunday.”

The fanfare and introduction began at 7:00 AM with a brisk walk of well over two miles.

After a delightful allegro through breakfast, a few household chores, a call to Mother, and time spent pouring over show choir arrangements, I was onto to an intense dramatico session with my own creativity.

At 2:30 PM I composed a somewhat long adagio movement that was aptly dubbed, “Siesta.”

By 4:00 PM I was engaged a rousing series of scherzo-punctuated email tags with a friend that lasted long into the evening.

The 5:00 PM movement, Andante”Dinner” was as dull as they get.

The final movement, or coda, rather, for the evening contained a nice brisk walk, and a stop with some friends at Rousch Stadium to watch The Madison Scout drum corps perform their competition show.  Spectacular!

Tomorrow heralds the start of show choir camp; the mornings and afternoons are packed with lessons, most of which were rescheduled into more compact times; the evenings will be spent at Beavercreek.  I do have one day free, and that is being spent in my personal creative mode, and with a friend on a music project.

This Saturday morning is damp, a bit muggy at 70-degrees.  The dogs and I had our walk, spending a good deal chatting with my neighbor, Jane, who lives across the street with her two beautiful blonde labs.

Last night, I taught a class at ACTION Adoption Services, and it felt good to be back in the saddle, again.  My last classes to teach were in the Spring, and the summer sessions were delayed.  I only had one couple, but they were incredible – a teacher and insurance administrator.  Very enjoyable.

A young composer-friend has been sharing his compositions with me over the summer, and I have enjoyed being the mentor in helping him to shape the pieces.  This has also ignited a little spark of creativity within me.

Last night, I pulled out a piece I had written for LOVE IS ETERNAL: Mary Todd & Abraham Lincoln.  It is Lincoln’s methodical, even romantic proposal to the young, witty, intelligent and vivacious Mary Todd. In 1988, I struggled coming up with the right song for this moment in the musical, and all my attempts sounded like something you’d read on a sappy Hallmark card printed on the heavy edge-torn parchment (I am sure there is a more accurate name to describe this card).  One day the following year, my friend, Rick, and I were hiking and breakfasting along the White River in Indiana, and I began watching the clouds take on their shapes, change, merge, and form all these pictures above.  This was mingled with the sounds of nature – the river, the wind through the trees, etc..  I had the jib for my song!

Back at home, I poured through some of my poetry books, and discovered John G. C. Brainard’s (1796–1828) poem, “I Saw Two Clouds At Morning.”

I saw two clouds at morning, tingled by the rising sun, and in the dawn they floated, and mingled into one; I thought that morning cloud was blessed, it moved so sweetly to the west.  I saw two summer currents flow smoothly to their meeting, and join their course, with silent force, in peace each other greeting; calm was their course through banks of green, while dimpling eddies played between.  Such be your gentle motion, till life’s last pulse shall beat; like summer’s beam, and summer’s stream, float on, in joy, to meet a calmer sea, where storms shall cease, a purer sky, where all is peace.

My lyrics became:

LINCOLN: I saw two clouds this morning, tinged by the rising sun, and in the dawn they floated on, mingling into one.  Calm was their course o’er fields of green where nothing dared to come between those clouds which floated gently West; I could not help but feel them blessed.  Remember the snow that last winter fell, bewitching us tenderly by its spell?  Glittering flakes, becoming one, sparkling in the midnight sun.  Have you seen stars in the sky?  A simple picture catches the eye.  They’ve come together appearing as one like sugar confections gently spun.  Though clouds move on across the land, and snows will melt as winters end, stars will fade at the break of dawn, but my love for you lives on and on.

(Lincoln slips the gold band on Mary’s finger; Mrs. Lincoln [narrator] reads the inscription from her ring)

MRS. LINCOLN: “Love is eternal.”

 I finished the song at 4:00 AM.  It is now on the computer, along with the 1992 revised copy in my handwriting.

At 11:00 AM I will meet a music-friend (who is always tons of fun) at Awesome Yogurt to work on a project for her, and then hurry to lunch with another music-friend.  At 2:00 PM, three of my close theatre directing friends will join me at The Loft for The Human Race Theatre Company’s new musicals workshop where we will see two shows.

I anticipate returning home around 11:00 PM.  This is a fun day… but will I fight nodding off?  Yikes!

For some reason, waking up was a struggle this morning. Every time they moved an inch in my bed, the kids reared their heads up in anticipation that our morning routine was about to begin.

Not so.

I finally came downstairs at 6:45 AM, let the dogs outside to potty, and plopped down on one of the twin beds in the guest bedroom. By 7:30 AM I was beginning to feel a bit guilty that we were already off schedule. I feel for the next several weeks, I need to adhere to a strict schedule to aid the kids and myself through this current transition.

The morning walk was indeed, a power walk. However, it seemed at every turn we were greeted by fellow dog walkers, which needed to be avoided in order to keep Chief and Navi under control. There seemed to be an unusual amount of dog walkers out this morning, and I wonder if it has anything to do with the furlough.

As we prepared to cross Shroyer Road at the Lincoln Park Boulevard intersection, a gentleman with two companion dogs crossed from the other side heading in our intended direction. After crossing to the southwest corner, I realized he was in no hurry, and there was no safe or practical way to pass the trio on that little stretch of sidewalk. We crossed back over to the other side and continued along the east side of Shroyer Road. From behind the came a lady with three dogs, and a block away was a gentleman with two dogs coming toward us. The gentleman with the companion dogs decided to actually pick up pace, and we were blocked in. Finally, with no approaching traffic barreling down Shroyer Road, the dogs and I cut a diagonal across the street, landing in the median until the southbound cars had passed. In a dead run we continued on our diagonal course moving far ahead of the gentleman with the companion dogs. I was pleased with my strategy, and that I had avoided BarkFest 2013.

The remainder of our walk was uneventful.

It is just after 9 AM and I got to eat my breakfast. Now my eating schedule is thrown off for the day. Perhaps not a big deal in the scheme of things, but it will mess around with the evening eating schedule since I am to teach an adoption class at 7 PM.

I am sure all will get worked out.

Now, onto breakfast and mowing the yard.

This is a photo of the pond at Lincoln Park as the sun was beginning to rise over the trees to greet Kettering, Ohio, and all the ducks and geese gathered at the pond.

Flyer’s Grove

Flyer’s cremains were retrieved from The Pines… I love this place, and the people.

The Bridgman family joined me to scatter a bit of Flyer’s ashes in “Flyer’s Grove.”

A little later, Sue Branson joined me to scatter some of her ashes in two special places.

Back at home, I took an hour long nap.

Supper was eaten while watching the young peeps compete on JEOPARDY.  It was a bit dull because the questions were not challenging for me.

The Kids first visit to Hawthorn Hill

An invitation came to share a walk with a dear friend and his dog.  This was such a wonderful way to end my evening… almost 90 minutes of walking, talking, laughing and enjoying one another’s company.

Friday will hold some lawn mowing, interior attention, creative writing, and teaching at ACTION Adoption Services.

And that shall be my Friday.

Thursday was bittersweet, yet, ended on a delightful note.

My weekend officially began this evening at 7:30 PM.  I am ready for it.

Tomorrow, Thursday, I will retrieve Flyer’s ashes from The Pines.  I am planning on taking Navi and Chief with me so we can roam the grounds for a while to enjoy some peace and quiet.  The staff at The Pines should be God’s ambassadors to Heaven.  They are wonderful.

My goal for tomorrow is to actually sit down to something creative for me: writing, composing.  I do need to mow the back yard, and do some cleaning in the house – but I am really feeling a bit selfish, wishing to do things I find pleasing and relaxing.

Friday, I hope to explore more creative moments.  In the evening, I shall head to ACTION Adoption to teach a class.

Saturday, I will join three director-friends for two new musicals at The Human Race Theatre Company for their annual new musical workshop.

Monday through Friday will be a much compacted teaching schedule, and show choir camp in the evenings.  Friday will be an all day camp session with the parent show in the evening.

The house is a different kind of quiet.  A stillness that seems deafening at times.  Navi and Chief seem to be deeply feeling the effects of Flyer’s passing.  Navi is terribly needy, and cries quite a bit.  Chief has no spunk – and Chief IS spunk.  I am sure their world will return to a normal by next week.

I have noticed The Kids stepping up to the plate with maturity, and being more precise with executing their commands.  I’ve even thrown new, random commands at them, and they’ve quickly grasped them.

I am learning so much from my dogs.  I might teach them commands, and tricks, but they teach me about life.  I am grateful that God entrusted the care of Flyer to me, as well as The Kids.

The past few days have been incredibly moving with the outpouring of affection shown Flyer, and me.  I look at the collection of flowers, cards, books, Bills Donuts, Killer Brownies, emails, Facebook posts, and private messages, and am touched, even overwhelmed by the great affection, and love.

And then there are the tears from friends, students, former students, parents and parents of former students…  that says even more.

THANK YOU….

Flyer’s collar and tags – soon to be placed on the Christmas tree.

The Pines called this morning to let me know that Flyer has been cremated and I can pick up her ashes any time.

I decided it was a good time for a family portrait.  The Kids were troopers, and behaved beautifully as I adjusted and set the camera’s timer.

A new chapter begins…

Dear Darin,

I can see you are being swarmed with many beautiful condolences at the passing of Flyer. I hope I am not burdening you with more email but I wanted to send my love.

When I first met you in 1993 as a piano and voice student I was going through absolute hell in my life. My parents were going through their divorce and I felt like a bargaining chip in their battles over custodial rights. I was entering those awkward teenage years where I felt ugly, unloved, out of place, and not wanting to live on most days.

When I came to your house for lessons my world was always changed for 60 minutes. Flyer was my best friend during those years. Her kisses and affection made me feel beautiful and loved. When I came to your house I felt like I had a place where I belonged. You and Flyer always made me feel important and worthwhile. Many lessons you simply let me sit and cry without explaining why. I can remember Flyer always looking up, tilting her head and coming over to comfort me. How many times did I just sit on the floor crying and holding Flyer those first few years?

By high school life was back on track. After I graduated and went to your alma mater you never stopped writing me, showing your interest and supporting me. Even through grad school your notes and posts on Facebook made me laugh, cry, rejoice and celebrate life even more. Whenever I came to visit you and Flyer at The Haasienda I was always greeted with open arms and paws – and lots of kisses from Flyer. She never seemed to lose her interest in me nor her deep affection.  You trained her well. Flyer was your best friend, my best friend, and probably a best friend to everyone who knew her.

For the past two years I have been a dog owner. I never wanted a dog because I never cared for ours at home. You and Flyer changed all that. I got to witness the rich companionship and devotion the two of you shared and knew that I always wanted the same thing. Mine is wonderful but nothing like Flyer. But Flyer was my champion when I needed it most in life.

I am sitting here crying, sobbing at the loss of my wonderful furry friend. I know your heartache must be even greater. But just think how many lives the two of you touched, even turned around. Now you have the kids to do it with you.

Thank you for all you’ve meant to me these past ten years. And thank you, Flyer, for teaching me (like your dad) self-worth, how to love, and how to always believe in myself.

I love you Mr. Haas & Flyer!

___________ [name withheld]

Around 5:00am, Monday morning, Chief alerted me that something had changed with Flyer.  I was in one twin bed, and Chief and Navi were snuggled in the other.  Sure enough, Flyer’s breathing had changed.  I snuggled next to her, continually reminding her all was well, and that she was loved.  Chief laid his head on her hip, his eyes darting back and forth between Flyer and me.

At 6:15am, no more breaths were to come.  Through tear filled eyes, I tried to focus on the still body, wondering if more breaths would come.

They did not.

The music from my computer was playing, “Abide With Me,” one of my favorite hymns.

Navi, Chief and I gathered around Flyer before I nestled her in a large pink storage container.  We went on our morning walk, business as usual.

The Pines

Shortly before 9:00am, I loaded Flyer into the van, and ventured south on St. Rt. 48 toward Lebanon, Ohio.  Bev Oesterlin, along with several others who responded to my Facebook request, insisted The Pines was a wonderful facility to coordinate cremation.  As I drove through the gates, I completely understood why Bev loved this place.  It was already filled with warmth.

As I stepped into the beautiful foyer, a lady came to greet me.  When I explained my dog had passed away, her eyes – truly mirrors to this woman’s soul – filled will tender sympathy as she reached out her hand to pat my arm.  She escorted me into a room where we filled out the paperwork, and then discussed Flyer for a few minutes.

I went to the van while she went for the golf cart.  I loaded the contained onto the cart, and patted the lid.  Instinctively, this gentle stranger reached out her arms to hug me, and assured me, “We’ll take good care of Flyer for you.”  The entire time she was driving away, her hand was on the container.

A tradition I established at The Haasienda twelve years ago: whenever our guests depart, all creatures, great and small, stand on the front porch until our family and/or friends are out of sight.  Flyer, always the dutiful hostess, was always at my side, sitting.  This morning, I stood watching until the golf cart, bearing the remains of my best girl, was no longer in sight.

The sad ending came to a beautiful, tender closure thanks to The Pines.  I will always highly recommend this wonderful facility.

This is a letter from a former student:

Mr. Haas,

When I opened up Facebook this morning and read Flyer had passed away I rose from my desk and closed the door so band students wouldn’t see me crying as they began entering for band camp (we’re at home). I will still lay claim that I was the first student of yours to meet Flyer. I don’t know why that day is still so vivid but to a 12 year old boy a puppy is still a big thing. Mom and I got to your place very early and you came rushing in from KMS [Kettering Middle School]. As we followed you inside you said you had a surprise. You went upstairs and returned with this cute little black and white puppy with big blue eyes. I was in love the minute I met her. I was pretty proud too that I got to take her outside to potty. Big responsibilities. I can also remember the caravan of cars and vans when you took about 30 students and families on the Wright Brothers tour of Dayton. When we got to the cemetery Flyer hopped out of your car and ran right to Wilbur Wright’s grave and sat down. I am still amazed at the story and at the fact I got to witness it firsthand. I got to also witness you as your sons arrived. What a great role model you’ve been as a teacher, a dad and as Flyer’s dad. And Logan’s too (I can still remember that cat stomping across the piano during my sax lessons). Thank you for always being someone I’ve looked up to and respected. You taught me so much more than just music. You demonstrated how to be a great person and how to love your students. And something else you taught me – a good director is never late. Time for me to hit the practice field. Thank you for being in my life and for sharing Flyer with me. I am sure Wilbur Wright is watching over her until you get there.

Love, Kyle

I learned Steve Martin was coming to the Fraze Pavilion, and had been wanting to go.  I met Mr. Martin in 1992 or 1993 at the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art as I was viewing Degas paintings.  The man of comedy was witty that day, but he was more along the lines of fascinating, interesting and intelligent.  

As I walked the dogs this morning I remembered Steve Martin & The Steep Canyon Raiders,along with Edie Brickell, was performing at the Fraze.  All day long I kept thinking I might just take a lawn chair over to Lincoln Park and listen to the Blue Grass concert.  I posted something on Facebook, and about an hour later, there was a knock at the door.  There stood my friend and neighbor, Dee Friesenborg, parent of a former student, with four tickets to the concert.

Dee & Terry Friesenborg – THANK YOU! THANK YOU!  THANK YOU!

Michael Loree, one of my all-time favorites, and my pseudo-son, came to visit, and within a few minutes, Shawnee & Steve Breitenstein, parents of a current student, called to inquire about the two remaining tickets I’d posted on Facebook.  It was an immediate quartet!  And, a fun one, at that!

Steve Martin has been one of my all-time favorite comedians for nearly 30 years.  I remember the King Tut and “Wild & Crazy Guy” years.  My favorite movies are any in which he plays a dad – I feel so much more normal.

The concert was classy, and top notch!  Mr. Martin intertwined his generous humor throughout, and it was wonderful to have tears from laughter streaming down my cheek after shedding tears of sorry this past week.  This evening was therapeutic, and a much needed respite from the task that lies before me tomorrow when I take Flyer on her final car ride, and bid her farewell.

Dee & Terry: you are angels!

Michael, Shawnee & Steve: thank you for adding so much to this evening!

This summer, as is generally the case, has passed by too quickly.  I missed having a small out-of-town adventure, but with Flyer’s unpredictable health it would not have been prudent.

The end-of-summer activities are in full swing: cross country runners are blazing trails around the neighborhood, marching band camps are in full swing, show choir camps are also taking place (where I will be next week), football and soccer players are returning to the fields, teachers are trickling in at the high school to prepare their rooms, and families attempt to push in those additional weekend getaways.  In two weeks, I will resume my school year teaching schedule.

The house is eerily still, save for the two sleeping dogs gathered at my feet.  They’ve each collected a towel on which Flyer was laying, and are using them as pillows.  It is strange to not have a third close by.  Flyer rests in the guest bedroom where there is less activity.  Mother left at 6:45AM for the return trip to Indiana, and I took The Kids for our morning walk.  The neighborhood was still void of church goers arriving for services at Christ Methodist across the street, and we were not dodging the usual crowd of dogs and owners.

Chief laying beside Flyer Saturday night.

The Kids and I have already generated a new relationship since Flyer has not been joining us on our walks.  They seem to understand they are the lead dogs, now, and of course, Chief has assumed this role with tremendous passion, and pride.  His attentiveness to Flyer this past year has been amazing, touching, reassuring, and a lesson in compassion for those of us who walk on two feet.  Whenever Flyer became disoriented in the back yard, Chief would physically nudge her in the right direction toward the deck, and then race up the steps to signal her with his bark.  Each time it appeared Flyer was failing, Chief was at her side, often laying his head was on her hip, or very close to her.  The past few days, when I’ve left Flyer’s side, Chief immediately fills my vacated spot.  When we come downstairs in the mornings, or return from walks, Chief races to the back of the house to check on Flyer.

I keep reminding myself that I am not the only one in The Haasienda who is grieving.  Navi may or may not demonstrate it, but I know she will experience it.  Chief, who like Flyer, always reveals so much, will surely be impacted greatly; after all, one from his tribe will be missing.

This morning, as we walked, I talked to the dogs frequently as I tend to do.  I am sure those who observe this practice are amused, but talking to the pets is part of how I continually train them.  I believe this is what helped shape the beautiful personalities of Logan and Flyer.  Plus, they are part of the family.  This morning, I said to The Kids, “It will just be the three of us from now on.”

And, I am sure, despite not having my best girl with me, it will be a fun, devoted trio.  While we experience this heartbreaking transition, a new adventure has already begun…

Our first picture together; November 5, 2001.

At daybreak, the rain was shrouding the Miami Valley in a dull grey that seemed to precipitate the day ahead.  I remember my grandmother use to say that ‘the angels were crying’ whenever it rained after someone had died.  This morning, I felt the angels were crying their fanfare of the impending decision I knew, deep down, had to be made.

Last night, Flyer seemed to rebound with energy, and strength, but when I saw her this morning at 5:00am, I knew.  I walked The Kids at 8:00am, and returned to Flyer’s side where I spent the entire day.  After a few hours, I forgot the wood floor was uncomfortably hard.  It did not matter.

I know I am not the only person in the entire world who has been in the position of making a decision regarding a beloved pet’s end-of-life terms.  But, this is my pet, and it is my world that seems imbalanced at the moment.  Fortunately, my balance has been restored by countless wonderful friends, many who have made such a decision.  They’ve reached out in a number of ways to share their love and affection for my little girl, and me.  Lou Gehrig just got bumped down to second place as the luckiest man on the face of this earth.

This past year has been filled with a number of goodbyes, and life-transitions.  Some transitions have been difficult, while others have been greeted with enthusiasm.  This is one of those transitions that lacks sorely in enthusiasm.  Three years ago when Flyer nearly died from pancreatitis, I had a taste of how horrible, and agonizing the final moments would be when the day did arrive.

The day has arrived.  At least for making the decision that it is time to release her from life’s leash.  I had numerous consultations with my dear friend, Sue B., who has loved Flyer like her own pets.  I fought hard, hoping Flyer would rebound as before, hoping she would ease out on her own terms, and praying I would not have to play God.  Late in the afternoon, I sent an email to another dear friend, a veterinarian, Ann I..  Ann’s response was practical, gentle and quite loving.  When I trained Ann, and her husband, Bill, in adoption classes, I stressed that making a decision on the children we adopt is based so much on gut reactions.  Today, Ann reminded me that these matters also must be weighed with the gut.

With some tearful consideration, the decision was made.  Now, I just need to make the arrangements.

Flyer rests comfortably, and as I write this post, she is surrounded by Chief, who has

Our last picture together; July 27, 2013.

rarely left her side, and Navi.  I am not going through this alone.  Mother has been a gem of support, and helping me around the house as I’ve simply halted all activities to lay next to Flyer.  Sue B., for the past three years, has been one of Flyer’s (and mine) biggest champions, and has spent much time researching a variety of items based on Flyer’s health.  Several family friends and students have been pet-sitters for Flyer, and The Kids,  and they’ve always been so good to Flyer.  My students, and their families, who see Flyer each week, have been full of love and support.  And, my many friends, on and off Facebook, have showered us with continued support, prayers, and great affection.

In short, we are not going through this alone, and I am so grateful for these blessings.

Tonight, after making the decision, I took The Kids on a walk.  My iPhone music was set to shuffle, and one of my favorite songs, the lyrics penned by my lyricist-libretto hero, Oscar Hammerstein II, echoed the deep assurance I was beginning to feel.

When you walk through a storm
Keep your chin up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark.
At he end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho’ your dreams be tossed and blown.

Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone,
You’ll never walk alone.

The next transition has been set in motion… a wonderful chapter in my life will come to a close.  But, what a wonderful chapter it has been.  One day, there will be that Rainbow Bridge with Flyer, as well as Logan (1994-2011), Pokey (1970-1983), and Navi and Chief.

Flyer… always know you are loved…

When I was a child growing up, I was often sandwiched in between older or younger cousins. Since both of my parents for the oldest, as was their parents, it seemed to work out but most of my first and second cousins were either older than me, or younger than me.  At family gatherings I was either too young to play with the older cousins, or not interested in playing with the younger cousins.

My mother’s younger brothers were 10 and 12 years older than me, and more like older brothers and uncles.  Most often, my time was spent with my uncles. Due to hanging around them, I developed an early love for rock ‘n roll music of the 1960s and early 1970s, watching the Smothers Brothers on their portable black and white television set, and listening to the record albums of Bill Cosby.

As I grew older, it seemed most of my friends were actually 10 to 12 years older than me. Although she was always my teacher, Paula Simmons, who graduated with my older uncle, and was my junior high and high school band and choir director, was also a dear friend for many years. From the beginning, she recognized my passion for music and my interest in pursuing it as a career. Therefore, she often invited me to attend various concerts and events at Ball State University, always with the blessings and gratitude of my mother. After these events, we would often join Paula’s college friends and colleagues for a meal, or a coke.  This was heaven to a future music teacher who readily absorbed every ounce of conversation that most often did not include me.

Paula was dear friends with Mother, and spent many many evenings at our house preparing marching band shows, junior high spring concerts, and always, the high school’s Variety Show (you would have to see it to believe it!). Many Elwoodites would never have guessed that nearly every music event or marching band season was planned at our dining room table at 825 Main Street.  When I entered Ball State as a freshman I knew more about preparing marching band shows and large-scale concerts and productions than any of my contemporaries. In fact, there were many times I assisted area band and choir directors with their programs – something I continue to do 30 years later.

Throughout college I always enjoyed hobnobbing with the graduate assistants who were older than me. Naturally, I loved friends my age, but I always appreciated and absorbed the experiences of those wonderful role models during my college years: Stuart Scott, Wayne Dorothy, Tim Brimmer, Lew Strouse and Elaine Broad. I still apply numerous teaching skills taught by them, and continue to value their friendship today, albeit, mostly via Facebook.

When I began teaching, teachers and staff with whom I seemed most connected were also 10 to 12 years older than me. Despite the age difference, we always seemed so simpatico.

The McCutcheons

After moving to Dayton in 1990, it seemed that my friends continued to be a bit older than me, and in

The Hetzers

the same age range as my uncles. Susan Cook, Debbie McCutcheon and Jim McCutcheon, all associated with music education, became close friends. One of my closest friends, and fellow adoptive parent, Bill Hetzer, and his wife, Kay, are also in the same age-difference racket.  In the past few years, fellow theatre director and musician, Suzanne Grote, has joined the ranks.

Suzanne Grote

There were, however, two major friendships with individuals who were significantly older than me.

Joshua Logan

The first of these two friendships began in 1984 when I was introduced to the legendary stage and screen director, Joshua Logan.  At age 19, I was blessed to have this wonderful gentleman as my directing and

Mr. & Mrs. Logan

playwrighting mentor. Our common passion for the performing arts and musical theater merged our teacher-student relationship into a very dear friendship. Mr. and Mrs. Logan were extremely kind, loving and generous individuals who tended to treat me with great affection, and sometimes, even like a grandson. Mr. Logan’s letters are terribly precious to me as they reflect my own history and youth through the eyes of someone I respected and loved – and still do.  They also serve as a reflection of that tender, loving friendship between a man who was actually older than my grandfather and myself.  Age knew no boundaries in this friendship, and I learned beautiful life lessons.

In 1985, my college choir director asked me to join his church choir to supplement the bass section. I ended up working with the youth music at this church, as well as teaching a Sunday school class. Many of the youth were also my students at the school, and this afforded me time to also get to know their parents better.

One particular student was a fireball of fun and humor, and Tom seemed like a younger version of me. His parents, Diana and Stan, often invited me to their house for dinner, and often used me as a mentor for their son when they felt they were not getting through to him on certain issues. Their two older children lived with me in the honors college on campus, and Stan and I had a standing lunch appointment each week in the student union. I truly fell in love with this entire family.

It was at this time Diana was returning to school to acquire another masters degree, as well as her doctorate. She was about the same age I am now, 48, and was about 28 years older than me. As Diana was beginning this new chapter in her educational career, she also began making numerous changes in her lifestyle: new clothes, new hairstyle, new friends and a renewed energy in life. Now that I am presently the age of Diana during the transitional time in her life, I greatly appreciate her seeming influence regarding change and transitions as new chapters have begun in my own life.

In 1986, after directing the musical, Evita, I began researching Mary Lincoln as a potential musical writing project. When I mentioned this to Diana, she became terribly interested and began serving as a pseudo-editor and research assistant. We spent countless hours dissecting Mrs. Lincoln’s character, and weighing over 100 years worth of vicious attacks aimed at this brilliant, ahead-of-her-time woman. Before long, our daily meetings that often lasted two hours, sometimes more, turned toward discussions of philosophy, life, and all other imaginable topics that interested us greatly.

It has been many years since I’ve enjoyed these two intense friendships, yet, they continue to cling to my present life, often unfolding in many wonderful, surprising designs as they accompany through my daily life.

Lucky?  Perhaps.

Blessed?  You betcha!

I strive to steer clear of politics, religion and sex as topics to post or discuss.  All three are very personal, and have caused wars throughout history.

A dear friend of mine, Sue B., offered this incredible, thought-provoking post regarding Zimmerman & Martin.  Sue and I had shared a discussion earlier this week regarding the case, and we were both on the same wave-length. As Sue said last Tuesday, “There are only two people who actually know the truth of that horrible moment. One is dead and one is not.”

This is Sue’s Facebook post:

I wrote this as a response to an email from a good friend, and I thought I’d repost it here. It’s rather long, but it was hard for me to express my thoughts any more concisely:

I have seen many thought-provoking articles regarding Zimmerman and Martin. I have also seen a ten-minute video on this topic that is making the rounds on Facebook. This trial and all its implications have had a very polarizing effect on many people in our country.

But my problem with articles and videos on both sides of this issue is that they are always focusing on one side of the story, siding with either Zimmerman or Martin. Some of the items are inflammatory, others are well-reasoned. I am not one of those who is harping on the verdict in the case.

Many of these discussions include truths, half-truths, and errors. It is exhausting for people to check each reference, so many don’t bother to do so. I do, which generally results in my invoking the wrath of those who have repeated incorrect information.

Both Zimmerman and Martin had a history of violence. Both Zimmerman and Martin had friends and family that loved them. To portray one as good and the other as evil is pointless and inaccurate. I think this speaks to the larger issue of our suspicion and mistrust of our fellow man. Suspicion and mistrust lead to acts of violence such as this.

I have mentioned before that I have some students who would fit the profile of Martin. But they are human beings that have a good side, too. I’m just glad that I have had an opportunity to discern the best way to approach them so that I am treated with respect in return. America is becoming an increasingly violent nation, and I hope that somehow this whole tragedy will cause us to reflect on our preconceptions so that we can change that.”

Flyer survived the night.

I rose at 3:30 AM to check on her, and remained up the rest of the night.  By 6:00 AM I was busy with odds and ends, more to keep busy than to accomplish anything.  By 10:00 AM I had cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, finished two loads of laundry, and a load of towels, watered plants in front and back, cleaned trash cans throughout the house, put away a load of dishes, folded towels, walked the dogs, fed the dogs, fed my self, and showered for the day.

Flyer is hanging on, but very gently at this point. She does respond by opening her eyes, but other than that, she sleeps.  I made a file on my Spotify music account to continuously play peaceful, comforting songs – all kinds of songs.  One particular song is, “My Best Girl” from the musical, MAME, by Jerry Herman.  I began singing this to Flyer years ago:

“You’re my best girl and nothing you do is wrong,
I’m proud you belong to me;
And if a day is rough for me,
Having you there’s enough for me.
And if someday another dog comes along,
It won’t take her long to see,
That I’ll still be found, just hanging around
My best girl.”

Mother should be arriving any moment, and Sue Branson will arrive around Noon.  Navi and Chief are aware something is going on, and seem very anxious.  Chief continues to keep watch over Flyer, and when he gets ready to go out back to potty, he stops to look at Flyer to see if she is coming.  What a sweetheart he is.

I’ve decided to not take any more photos of Flyer since she is beginning to appear gaunt under the eyes.  The old girl needs her dignity, too.

Thank you to the many, many kind and thoughtful  notes from so many of my family and friends.  They’ve been a blessing, and a comfort.

My bedside clock currently reads 12:57 AM. I had anticipated being in bed by 11:30 PM, but other things took priority.

As I prepared to head upstairs to my bedroom, Flyer was still with us. Her condition has vacillated throughout the entire day, but still appears to be pretty grim. In consultation with the vet, it was decided that since she was not in any apparent discomfort or distress, it was best to keep her comfortable and surrounded by loved ones. And that is what we have done.

With that reassurance, I mowed the yard, trimmed, and accomplished a number of items inside and outside within two hours. I ran to Meijer for some groceries, and then picked up a chef salad from Marion’s pizzeria. Shortly after returning home, I completed some more tasks, ate my dinner, and then took the kids on a walk.

Since the Fraze Pavilion was completely packed, and the amplification resounding with a tad more volume than most concerts, I sat on the curb in the parking lot near the baseball diamonds and soccer practice –fields to enjoy the music, gaze up at the stars, and lose myself in a ton of philosophical and spiritual inner-conversations. It was refreshing, but also somewhat daunting. The acceptance of some realities is a bit of a struggle at times, but it is necessary to endure them, learn from them and work with them.

After taking Flyer out to the front yard to potty, and while she was drinking water on her own volition in the kitchen, I took advantage of her being out of my study to vacuum that room, the guest bedroom, and the living room. By this time it was nearing midnight, and I was excited to head to bed little early. However, I was delighted to received two emails, one from my dear friend Jeff Carter who was writing from England, and another dear friend. I ended up responding to the one friend with a rather large volume of writing, discussing each of our experiences for today. That particular email ended up becoming a philosophical essay.

In the morning, Mother will arrive after at least four hours on the road between Fowler Indiana and Kettering Ohio. I am praying that Flyer will survive long enough for Mother to see her one last time. Of course, the selfish side of me would rather Flyer stay around for a few more years. However, some things are meant to be.

My dear girl still hangs on, but barely moves. She does not seem to be in any discomfort or distress and seems very much at peace. Flyer seems to know that she is loved, and raises her eyes up to those who have been showing her affection this morning.

I went to the store to get her Pedialyte and administered two syringes of the liquid. I am hoping this will aid in any potential dehydration. She has not eaten since Sunday, and stopped drinking her water yesterday.

Chief, so often appearing to be a big lug at times, always seems to rise to the occasion when it comes to being so attentive to Flyer. When we come downstairs in the morning, Chief rushes right to Flyer. Whenever he comes in from the outside, the first thing he does is rush in to fine Flyer. When I am not lying on the floor next to Flyer, Chief is within a few feet of her, if not snuggled right next to her. It is really heartwarming to see his devotion and affection.

Tomorrow, Mother will arrive and I’m hoping that Flyer will still be with us so Mother can see her again.

The tender loving notes from friends are greatly appreciated.

Tuesday did not move smoothly as Monday. I am hoping today, Wednesday will run much smoother, and faster.

I finished teaching at 8 PM Tuesday evening, shoved food down Navi & Chief, let them potty, and then headed to Beavercreek. The Pollock household was in rare form as it prepared to celebrate Joanie’s birthday. Our friend, Mindy, joined us and the entire evening was nothing but friendship, fun and tons of laughter. After enjoying some delicious cake, we settled around the dining room table to play the card game Nerts. It is a wildly funny card game, and although I tend to come in last place each time, it is too hilarious watching everybody else.

What a fun, fun evening which I sorely needed.

I will finish teaching this evening, and providing there is no more rain will mow the front and back yards. Tomorrow, mother will arrive for several days. She is hoping to see Flyer before the end arrives. The poor little pooch is extremely weak, no longer eating food, but still drinking water. This morning, she is breathing, but not moving.

I am keeping my fingers crossed for an easy Wednesday.

From DLJH’s iPhone
“Make it a great day!”