Learning to Let Go

I knew at an early age I did not want to be a parent.

I did, however, want to be Pippi Longstocking. I remember first reading the book and wanting more than anything to live in a house with a monkey and a horse and do everything myself.

As it turns out, I am living that dream, albeit with dogs instead of the more exotic members of Pippi’s household.

I don't recall if Pippi considered herself a parent as much as a pal to her housemates. I view my role as a parent of sorts (sometimes known as pack leader) to all of the dogs with whom I have had the honor to share my life. In eighteen years, there have been five. All of them came to live with me as puppies. I would like to say as each new one has come through the door, I have slightly improved as a dog owner/parent/trainer. Still....a long ways away from being a human parent.

Two years ago, I made my debut as a caterpillar parent. I raised five Monarch babies to butterflies and released them without any losses. It was a bit stressful, as I tend to be a worrier about things I cannot control. To that end, I have found myself becoming increasingly protective of the smaller creatures that spend time in my yard, primarily the birds and the butterflies. I have redesigned my gardens to be more hospitable with native pollinator plants. I rescue caterpillars. I watch the birds.

As I wrote previously, I had become quite attached to the Cardinal couple I dubbed Mr. and Mrs. C. They are a handsome couple who spend lots of time on the fence bordering the north side of my yard. This summer, when the nesting activity began, that attachment ramped up to an obsession of sorts....

When the nesting began, the excitement was almost too much to bear. On July 9th, during a dinner gathering for friends, one of them was able to snap a photo of the eggs. I could hardly contain myself. We pulled up the various cardinal calls on our phones and I was amazed when we lured them close to the porch simply by playing those calls. I came to understand the difference between the peep peep peep (sort of an alarm call) and the song, which can be quite rollicking.

Ten days later, my cousin snapped the first picture of the babies.

It was after that, that I became a stalker. I watched the barberry bush every day when I was on the back porch, scrutinizing it for activity. While both parents would zoom in for feedings, Mrs. C. was doing the bulk of the work. However, Mr. C. was never far. He would perch on the fence or on a utility wire high up, where he could survey the surroundings for any trouble.

I must confess that at some point, I became that very trouble he was watching out for.

I set out a small step stool so that I could easily hop up and snap a photo. I tried to wait until both parents were off grocery shopping, but they often would return home early and chastise me. I didn’t care, I was hooked on these baby birds and could think of little else.

The following week we had horrible heat followed by torrential downpours. I was beside myself wondering how Mrs. C. could shelter the babies (whom I had named Jack and Jill – equal opportunity you know) from the barrage of elements.

I checked in regularly and documented the progress.

I also got a close up of Mrs. C. and was startled to discover she was missing a foot. I never would have known. As each day passed, I became more and more in love with, and in awe of the resiliency of these little creatures. Excessive love = obsession = questionable judgement.

Finally, on the last Saturday of July, it appeared as though things were heating up. There was a lot of movement in the barberry bush and both parents were bustling in and out of my yard. When I returned home from morning errands, I decided to get my camera and take a peek.

I came face to face with one of the fledglings as it rocketed out of the bush and onto the ground behind me.

I was horrified. What had I done? I had provoked the entire family. Mom started zipping around giving off the alarm squeak. I knew I could not allow this baby to remain on the ground. Without thinking, I put my camera down and scooped it up and placed it back in the barberry bush and hightailed it out of there.

Ugh. The delicate balance had been upended all because I wanted another picture.

One would think that would be enough to curb my enthusiasm.

One would be wrong.

I had to mow the lawn. It was not an option, as I had let it slide from the week before. I decided to give the area a wide berth. When I was finished and was tidying up, I noticed a kerfuffle in the neighbor’s yard. Both parents were hovering around, darting from lawn chair to fence to plant, squeaking the alarm sound. There was baby….bobbling around on the ground in my neighbor’s yard.

I need to add that this was now next door to the neighbors who let their cats stay outside. I was ready to have a heart attack. I rushed over (note: this neighbor was gone for the weekend) and, as both parents let me know of their outrage at such blatant meddling, I swooped baby bird up and put it back in the bush. I then morphed into COMPLETE control freak and called those neighbors on the other side and pleaded with them to keep their cats inside, “just for a couple days.” They at least appeared amenable, but informed me that one had been gone for a few days, so they could not make any promises. UGH.

Thankfully I had plans that evening or my meddling would have continued and possibly escalated.

Sunday morning, I peered in the general direction of the nest and was able to see Dad feeding one of the fledglings. I then heard peeping and, to my utter surprise, the second was all the way on the other side of the yard, in a tree right by my screened porch. I decided she was Jill (#1 daughter).

I was delighted for I had now seen both out of the nest. And one had survived my repeated interventions and had not been rejected by the parents. In talking with a friend that morning, I learned that the eggs could have been laid days apart, and hatched days apart, which would mean that one was considerably more advanced in development than the other. I decided that Jill had been the one flapping about on Saturday and Jack, (#2 son) was the one still being fed by Dad on Sunday morning.

I was in and out most of the day. By the afternoon, Jack, was starting to make me nervous. He ended up hopping around on the ground out near my front yard. Cat territory. I had to save him. With Dad swooping and hollering, I grabbed him and put him back in the bush.

To no avail.

He was pretty insistent. At this point, Mrs. C. and Jill were on the south side of my house in a mock orange bush and Mr. C. was keeping a close eye on Jack on the north side. The last I saw of those two, they were making their way around to the front of the house. Again I had to leave for the evening. My emotional roller coaster would have to come to a rest.

That Sunday evening was the last I saw of the fledglings. Monday morning I went around the house to where I could hear the peeping. Mr. and Mrs. C. were still around, but I could not catch any glimpse of the youngsters. I didn’t know what to think, but I had to hope for the best.

Which brings me back to this whole parenting thing. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the hardest thing for humans to do in life. You spend the first 8-10 years hovering, the next 8-10 struggling and at some point the offspring leave the nest. Or at least that’s what’s supposed to happen. But often times it is not a straight and easy path from when the egg hatches to full flight. There can be lots and lots of struggles and heartache. But in the end, human parents can only do the best they can and hope that the foundation they have constructed will hold up as the child becomes an adult.

I think our wildlife friends have it figured out. They really do the best they can and do it without much fuss. I was thrilled to watch both Mr. and Mrs. C. run a chipmunk out of the barberry along the fence with much commotion. They didn't need me, they had it under control. And when it was time for Jack and Jill to move along, they kept a close eye until such supervision was no longer necessary.

When I got home that Monday evening, they seemed to still be in the vicinity, but instead of the peeping I had heard pretty regularly during the nesting period, I heard the song.

It’s different. More relaxed.

I’ve heard that singing now for a week. I hear songs and calls I think might be the youngsters. I choose to believe they have made it to high levels of trees and are safe from predators.

And some day, I hope to see them again. And I hope Mr. and Mrs. C. can forgive me for the obnoxious meddling.

I've put out grape jelly as a peace offering.

Me and Mrs. C.

We have been neighbors for many years. Cedric and Cecelia Cardinal (as I have come to call them) immediately distinguished themselves from the mass of ordinary, noisy sparrows, and the occasional wren. I remember years ago being delighted at their presence in the urban density that is south Minneapolis.

As the years went by and they continued to flit in and out of my yard, I developed a special relationship with Mrs. C. She seemed particularly unphased by my presence and we would actually visit a bit while I weeded, she perched on the fence chirping with that distinguishable peep I had come to know and love.

This spring, when Mr. and Mrs. C again made their presence known, I did a bit of research and learned that the average lifespan of a northern cardinal can be between 15 and 25 years. I also learned that they mate for life. This warmed my heart to realize that Cedric and Cecelia were likely the same pair I had seen over at least the past five plus years.

A week or so ago, I noticed Mrs. C. with a twig in her beak. Being that it was the end of June, I was a bit baffled. Shouldn’t nesting time be past? More research revealed that pairs can produce 2-3 clutches in a year (I had to learn the term clutch as I wanted to call it a litter). I became fixated with where the nest was – there are usually quite a few nests here and there around my house and it is fun to see the creativity with which these little birds choose their locations.

I was a bit surprised, then, to see her dart into the barberry bush – a thorny, short shrub only about 6 feet high. As I watched, the bush vibrated as she made the tell-tale movement of shaping the next. Then she flew out, only to return a few minutes later with another twig.

Since I tend to worry about my little wild friends, I immediately thought: “what a terrible place for a nest! I need to mow over there! She’s going to find that this was a terrible mistake.”

I did more reading. Apparently low-lying shrubs are the location of choice for these guys. I then started to rationalize: she’s been my neighbor for years – she knows I mow the lawn once a week, dogs bark, cats prowl, and I will be over there to weed every once and awhile. That barberry is actually perfect in terms of deterrence and camouflage.

We had a brief discussion after I mowed and hurriedly yanked out parts of an extremely invasive vine that I cannot allow to flourish underneath the barberry. She registered her annoyance. I explained I would be out momentarily.

I worried I had disrupted the process.

A few hours later, I was lucky enough to see her fly in with yet some more nesting material.

It will be fine. Nature has a way of working itself out. Let’s hope the rest of the world can do likewise.

A Special Day in an Extraordinary Life

She started squealing as I pulled into the parking spot at the River Center in St. Paul. She does that now, much more often than she ever used to, and regardless of whether she knows where we are going. Her hearing is almost all gone, so I have learned how to communicate with her differently. She sleeps extra soundly these days, but is always ready for a trip in the car.

As I pulled out her soft crate and attached her leash she pulled impatiently, eager to get to the destination. We made our way through the skyway towards the site of the big dog show and she trotted along confidently, oblivious to the exuberant Norwegian Elkhound, barely managed on a flexi leash, who lunged in her direction. Because we were flyball exhibitors, I did not have to pay admission and was thrilled to be able to spend this day with my best girl.

Nine years ago, she had been a competitor at this show in the world of breed conformation. She had been highly regarded by her breeder and I felt like I should give her a chance to make it in the show ring. I was a terrible handler and was lucky enough to have a good friend show her for me. She won big at this show nine years prior and it was an occasion I would never forget.

She never finished her championship, however. After another nine months of showing and always coming in as runner up, I gave up the dog show beauty pageants to focus on her sports. Together, we learned how to be a team in agility, field and obedience. She also ran flyball, which she loved. Never really fast, she was dependable and sturdy. We competed in flyball for 10 years and she earned a longevity award.

It was flyball that got us into the big dog show for free nine years later. As we made our way to the crating area, I marveled at how easy she had always made things for me. Whether traveling in the car, staying in a hotel, walking around a huge venue, meeting people and other dogs, she was always the gracious companion. In the early years, I barely noticed. I seemed to always be more focused on the competition at hand then my teammate on the other end of the leash.

When we started competing in agility I would be so nervous I would stay in the car until it was our time to run. We would run and then I would go back and sit in the car, obsessing over the course map, trying to get ready for the next run. When waiting our turn in the holding blind to run in hunt tests I sometimes felt as though I might throw up. She, on the other hand, could barely contain her excitement, often screaming at the line when the birds went down. In Juniors, the judges thought that was cute. It took us two years and a lot of training to get that JH.

And in the middle of it all, she almost died.

She suddenly crashed on a Friday evening in early June. I took her into the U of M where she spent 5 nights and 4 days and received two blood transfusions. She was four years old and severely anemic. Every time I left her at the hospital, I made a promise that I would never again care about the titles and the competitions if only I could have her back.

She did come back. And we did go back to our sports. My attitude changed. I worked harder to manage my nerves. She obtained those final two passes for her JH. And a month later, won an obedience award at our breed specialty. We picked up obedience as a way to get a special prize for qualifying in 3 different sports at the specialty. We had never really trained obedience – I started it at home about three months before the specialty and she performed as if we had been doing it for years.

She was just that kind of dog.

All these memories of achievements were going through my head at the big dog show when we encountered her breeder, who was happy to see her and introduce her to people. My heart swelled with pride and joy as she poked people’s hands and pockets for food.

Our first flyball run at the big show was a bit of a disaster. She bobbled the ball, slipped on the mats and came down awkwardly. At 10 years of age, this caused me some concern. We lined up to race again and she did it perfectly. Four more times and we were done with the demo.

Her breeder was also concerned and suggested we not run the second demo. I agreed. No demo was worth a potential injury, even though she was bouncing around like a pup.

It was now time to walk around and enjoy the show.

Downstairs on the main level, we stopped by a photo booth for 3D printing. I marveled at the technology and decided that this day was, in fact, a moment in time I wanted to preserve forever. We stepped into the odd set up. Neither of us knew what to do nor, so it seemed, did the two young men running the booth. We had to pose about seven times before we got a shot that would work. I thought it looked great. I paid my money for a model to be created later and we went to get mini donuts.

All along our walk through the show, people would approach, drawn to her sweet face. Children, especially, wanted to pet her. And she wanted to jump on them.

As she interacted with her fans, I continued to bask in memories of all the miles we had traveled, all the friends we had made, all the adventures we enjoyed. Because of her, we earned the right to compete in national events for agility and flyball. I thought about how much I took her temperament for granted all those years I struggled as a novice dog trainer and handler. And how I finally was able to make the shift away from measuring success with ribbons and titles to enjoying each and every moment with my special teammate.

I thought about her remarkable recovery from cancer two years ago and her subsequent return to agility and flyball. By this time it was purely about the joy.

As our big dog show day wound down and we packed up, I made an appointment with her chiropractor, just to make sure everything was in its right place. She was silly with the chiropractor, rolling around for a belly scratch. One would never guess how out of alignment she actually was.

Some days later, the notes from the visit came in my email:

Casey did a flyball demo at Land O Lakes dog show. Spun out and landed on her back at the box. Then smashed into a cement wall when she was all done. Oh Casey….

How fortunate I have been and still am, to be sharing my life with this remarkable creature, whose greatest gift has been her ability to accept whatever life has thrown her way, including me and all my flaws.

The Practical Liberal: Perfecting the Workaround

Last week I was out in front of the bungalow, scraping ice from my front walk, when I encountered my neighbors, a gay couple in their 60s, heading out to make signs for the Women’s March set for that Saturday. They asked me if I was going to be participating and I said no and explained my reasons why. They seemed rather nonplussed as they got into their car.

As they pulled away, they actually stopped the car, rolled down the passenger window and asked me the following question:

“If something really bad happens, will you be out with us then?”

I responded: “like what?”

There was no answer.

To fill the awkward silence, I responded quickly: “if something bad happens, for sure, I will be marching with everyone else.”

It was in that moment, that I experienced a bit of clarity about the current state of affairs. My people are very afraid. And so they march. They demonstrate. They rant on social media. And they play right into the narrative that conservatives like to put forth about liberals. That we are all a bunch of crybabies that expect the government to subsidize our social priorities. "YOU LOST!!! GET OVER IT!!! NOW YOU KNOW HOW WE HAVE FELT FOR THE LAST EIGHT YEARS!!!"

Here are a couple of quotes from conservative people with whom I have managed to maintain civil discourse:

[Trump] wants to create an environment here at home where businesses will first stop fleeing this country and then where they are actually encouraged to start building factories and hiring Americans. He wants to raise import tariffs on foreign made goods and put American made products first. Something we have watched erode over the past 15 years.... The US used to be the world leader in manufacturing, technology and jobs, but is no longer. We desperately need that back.

While I support the rights for minorities, women and other religions, I DO NOT support them getting special treatment. Fair and equal treatment, Yes, special treatment NO! I don't go around flaunting the fact that I'm a man, white, Christian, heterosexual and ask for any special treatment in return. Why should they? I don't have a problem with people loving one another and creating families and enjoying the same rights as the rest of us, but they need to quit shoving it in everyone's faces and banding together as "special interests". That is where I and many others draw the line.

Many people who voted for a man I believe to be corrupt, racist and misogynist, did so for two main reasons: 1) to see the economy improve and 2) to secure our borders. I will accept that, notwithstanding my belief that the economy had been doing quite well under the prior administration. However, what is more difficult to accept is all of the tyrannical and wildly unstable features that are part and parcel of our new leader.

But I digress. And in the midst of the forecast of “something really bad happening,” I have decided to focus on possible workarounds. It seems to be a bit more productive then ruminating on the latest "alternative fact" that is being disseminated by our administration.

I choose to begin by acknowledging a "real" fact: my team is in the minority in Congress. Another "real" fact most Americans seem to agree on: the politicians are not getting it done.

Congress used to be the place where things got done. Not so much anymore. Today I heard a candidate for head of the DNC advocate for blocking anything and everything the Republicans might put forth in Congress. Kind of contrary to Michelle Obama's rallying cry "when they go low, we go high."

Early on in the transition period, the hand wringers continued to cry out about the grossly unqualified Cabinet nominations. And one by one, these scary, ill-equipped people are getting confirmed without much push back. The reality is, as one pundit put it, no Republican Senator is going to vote to block a nomination at this point in the game. So for as much opposition and outrage that is being communicated loudly and clearly by my team, in the end, it will have come to naught. These people are going to be in charge of everything we hold dear.

It is disconcerting to say the least, since our whole system of governing depends on the work of politicians, many of whom, it would seem, are not interested in anything more than trying to get reelected.

However, as a member of the “liberal elite,” I believe there is a page out of the conservative playbook that we might be able to make use of.

One bedrock value of conservatism that I have to admit I like, is the notion that you take care of yourself. Conservatives, for the most part, care about guns, small government, the right to life and the free market. As evidenced by our new President’s swift and early actions, they don’t care about poor people, minorities, women’s health care, the arts, education or the environment. All those things cost money and demand regulation.

My belief is that instead of yelling at them to care about these things, we need to come up with creative ideas about how to take care of ourselves and those people and entities we care about.

One workaround I think my team is already utilizing successfully is communication. We must NEVER lose sight of the power of the First Amendment. There is a reason it is the first. Three days into the new administration, the National Park Service, after being censored by the President for disseminating information about climate change, decided to be creative and set up another private account for that very purpose. We must watch closely for any retaliation against federal employees by a President who, at least up until now is acting more like a fascist dictator than the leader of the FREE world.

Just as importantly, however, communication needs to be focused. After the awesome impact of the Women’s March, and even with a Scientists' March in the works, the still unanswered question is: “where do we go from here?”

Which brings me to the most effective workaround I could come up with: money.

I know a huge issue for women is the potential “defunding” of Planned Parenthood. But what exactly does that mean? How much of each clinic’s budget comes from the federal government?

https://www.plannedparenthoodaction.org/blog/how-federal-funding-works-at-planned-parenthood

Turns out it is a Medicaid reimbursement system, not taxpayer dollars going to fund abortions. Seems like actually understanding something is a huge first step in figuring out how to fix it.

After understanding the funding structure, it then seems useful to look at what is happening in a red state where, it could be assumed, support for Planned Parenthood is not vigorous and laws exist or are being proposed to severely limit its services.

I picked Kentucky. It was eye opening to read about all the attempts being made by that state’s administration to severely restrict, if not deny outright, the availability of abortions. This despite the fact that abortion is legal in all 50 states. In a late breaking development, one of two clinics where abortions had been performed permanently closed its doors, leaving Kentucky with only one provider of abortions. This in a state that also recently enacted a ban on abortions after 20 weeks.

https://www.rt.com/usa/373889-kentucky-last-abortion-provider/

While it is tempting to want to pick up a sign and go protest, I found the last several sentences of this article to be more useful:

Women in the state have asked Kentucky NOW how they can help people who need abortion services travel to Louisville or to other states. The chapter has pointed to nonprofits such as A-Fund, which will help pay for the procedure, and the Kentucky Health Justice Network, which will provide practical support.

This demonstrates how precise direction of money can overcome draconian political decisions. Rather than spending the money on office supplies to make signs and bus/train/plane tickets to travel to a rally, we can direct that money to a women's health clinic in a red state. Or send it to those organizations involved in helping poor women travel to such clinics.

Another example of money overcoming red state politics played out in Indiana. Then Governor Mike Pence attempted to enact legislation designed to discriminate against LGBT individuals, under the guise of a “Religious Freedom Restoration Act.”

That attempt lasted less than a week when a deluge of criticism and threats by major organizations to pull out of Indiana forced a redo:

http://www.indystar.com/story/news/politics/2015/04/01/indiana-rfra-deal-sets-limited-protections-for-lgbt/70766920/

As indicated in the recap of events: “intense backlash rained down on Indiana after Gov. Mike Pence signed the bill during a private ceremony last week. Conventions have canceled or threatened to move events that bring millions of dollars into the state. Prominent business executives have halted expansion plans or canceled travel to the state. The NCAA, which is holding the men's Final Four in Indianapolis this week, has also expressed concerns about the law.”

The money was going away. And Pence could not allow that to happen.

I see several lessons to be learned from events that occur in red states where administrations are threatening my team’s sense of social justice. The first is that with the kind of unity displayed in the Women’s March (I note that EVERY red state held a march), conservatives are going to be forced to tread carefully on issues that matter to women, minorities, people of lower economic means and all people who support those causes, if they want to retain political power. All they need to do is look at the rise of the Tea Party for proof that when enough people are angry, change happens. But organization and focus are critical to actually effecting change.

The second (and pretty significant) lesson: members of the liberal elite need to take fresh look at where they spend their money and pattern themselves after the Koch brothers. Wealthy celebrities and others need to prioritize their spending here for impoverished, disabled and disenfranchised men, women and children, as opposed to subsidizing enterprises abroad. That’s not to say the needs are not there globally, but those same needs here simply cannot be ignored, especially now that the other team is ready, willing and able to drastically cut funding. Oprah Winfrey spent millions for a girls school in Africa. I bet there are lots of girls here who could benefit from the same kind of Leadership Academy that was established thousands of miles away. This may seem isolationist, but this administration is putting OUR fellow citizens in peril and we need to respond by concentrating on what is going on right here.

I donate $25 a month to a program called Feeding America. I could not believe such a need could exist right here in the greatest country in the world. It makes me feel like I am doing a little bit to help those less fortunate than me. I’m not sure how many average conservatives contribute to charities. I would hope it would be something we could all agree is the right thing to do. But when one party believes that if you are poor and in need, it’s your own fault, maybe such a concept is not as universal as I might think.

As a public employee, I am not as wealthy as most in the “liberal elite.” That said, philanthropy needs to become more focused all around. If Trump’s promise to eliminate funding for the National Endowment for the Arts and National Endowment for Humanities comes to fruition, I have confidence that wealthy liberals will step up and fill the gap. Conservatives don’t care about these things. I live in a blue (for now) state, so I sleep easy knowing that, at least for me personally, these things will continue to be well cared for. I have seen private donors step up to save orchestra groups and other artistic organizations that were in danger of elimination. This can be done and should be done for entities whose mission is to protect education, the environment and health care for everyone.

It is as easy as setting up a GoFundMe account.

I have been amazed at how people all over can come together to support a cause they deem worthy. The power of social media makes donating to help cover expenses for adding a police dog to a city in Louisa, VA, or transporting a bunch of puppies from a kill shelter in the south to safety in the north, as easy as buying a book on Amazon.com. With the power of money harnessed in this way, no school should go without basic essentials, no person should go bankrupt over medical bills, no organization should be denied anything by a Trump administration that a GoFundMe account can cover.

The wealth in this country is staggering. Bernie Sanders refers to it almost daily. For those fortunate enough to be part of the 1%, it’s time to step up and direct funds to offset all the damage a Trump administration is prepared to do, particularly in red states whose administrations will encourage and applaud such efforts. I don’t think any conservative could find such action objectionable.

Workarounds are practical and attainable. These times demand our creativity and focus so that “we the people” do not end up like Vladimir Putin’s people. That’s a real and serious threat coming directly from the man sitting in the White House signing those Executive Orders while he obsesses about #alternativefacts.