The Return of The Muffin Saga, Part XII

As I am writing The Muffin Saga, I am realizing how much my life was intertwined with Muffin's. I really miss my friend.

Muffin stayed at a doggie hotel while I was on my road trip to Tucson for the first part of the certification course for intentional interim ministry. She evidently enjoyed the stay: she had other doggies for company and a very large fenced area to play with her new friends. Of course, I couldn't leave her at my mother’s house. Mom couldn't have taken care of her and Muffin may have repeated the whining, crying, and howling behavior she did while I was hospitalized.

The course in Tucson was a week long, Monday through Friday. Since I had decided to drive to Tucson and make a detour on the way back, I arranged a two week stay for Muffin at the doggie hotel. With my car packed for the trip, I dropped Muffin off at her temporary home on Thursday morning and began following the southern route (Kentucky—Tennessee—Arkansas—Texas—New Mexico—Arizona) to Tucson, a drive of about 1800 miles.

The drive was OK and I arrived in Tucson late Sunday night. The next morning I found the retreat center, which was located in the desert overlooking the city. Recently I located some of the photographs of the center and folks with whom I shared the week:

My small group at Interim Ministry Network certidication course

Meditation trail at retreat center

The chapel at the retreat center

Early morning coffee

View of Tucson from above the retreat center

The return trip to Louisville was longer (2,350 miles) than the trip to Tucson. I drove west to Phoenix to visit a friend, then north to the Grand Canyon National Park where I visited with an Internet friend, then to Bryce Canyon National Park where I visited my son, Rob, and his wife who were working at the lodge, and finally back to Louisville.

I arrived at my mother’s house at about 4:00 a.m. to find the security bolt on the front door. Thus, I entered the back door, setting off the burglar alarm and, I think, awakening folks a block in each direction.

After a good bit of sleep—I had driven straight through from the Kansas border to Louisville without sleeping (about 950 miles)—I went to the doggie hotel where I retrieved a very excited Muffin. When the attendant brought her to me, she pulled so hard on her leash that she almost got away from the young woman. Of course, she wasn't trying to escape; she was heading for me and when I bent down to her I received as much of a wet tongue licking as I had when I returned from the hospital.

Muffin was so excited that we had to take a Muffin walk around the parking lot before getting into the car. She pulled me up to the fence around the outside play area were some of her doggie chums were and said good-bye to them before we left. I felt that I was taking her away from something special: her new friends, human and doggies, and a play area where she could run without a leash. There were so many transitions going on in both out lives that I may have been projecting my own feelings onto Muffin.

However, we were soon off on another adventure—moving from my mother’s basement into an apartment of our own—and neither Muffin nor I had time to reflect on the past.

I shall publish part XIII of The Muffin Saga next Sunday.


To all of my Down Under friends:

Please

Sunday Stuff

Today is Sunday. In preparation for the coming week, I have been doing some reflecting.

Around This Tired Old World

I have joined with the people in Australia as they have remembered, mourned, and honored the estimated 209 lives lost to brush fires.

Last week I discovered RAWA (Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan) and became a committed supporter: 

My prayers are lifted for the families of the miners killed in the coal mine explosion in the Chinese province of Shanxi.

It’s all in the connotation: 

Wheels!

This arrived on Friday: 

I am still learning how to operate it, especially how to keep its wheels off my nosehose. 

Prophetic Cartoon Strip

This cartoon arrived in my email for Alex:

Yesterday the cartoon became prophetic. In the afternoon the snow began falling while my furball was outside cattin’ around. Out of my window, I saw Alex streaking across neighbors’ lawns toward our house as the snow fell around—and on—him. I was able to open the door just as Alex leaped on the porch. He continued running in his wildebeest stampeding mode into the house and leaped on my our desk. When I shuffled up to the desk, the wet furball jumped into my arms and cuddled until his fur was fairly dry. Then he leaped down and spent the next 20 or so minutes sitting on the furnace outlet and licking his coat. Silly cat! 

Personal

I do not look forward to the examination scheduled for me next Tuesday at the Veterans Administration Hospital:

The Band Played Waltzing Matilda on the First ANZAC Day

The song below is a song about war. Specifically the First World War at a place in Turkey called Suva Bay. I wrote quite a bit about Suvla Bay a year ago in a post entitled Anzac Day: A Yank’s Perspective.

This year, as my Australian and New Zealand friend celebrate ANZAC Day I’m not going to write as much. I am simply going to share with you Eric Bogle’s song. It is a song about war. It is also a song against war.

Now when I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time you stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war.

And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As the ship pulled away from the quay,
And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.

And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water;
And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell --
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
When we stopped to bury our slain,
Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.

And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying.

For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"
All around the green bush far and free --
To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,
No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.

And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,
And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask meself the same question.

But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?

On another matter:

You can learn the results of this:

HERE

Anzac Day: A Yank's Perspective

This day of days again we keep -
In memory of those who sleep
Away beyond the quiet sea.....
Away in far Gallipolli. '

Tis Anzac Day - 'tis Anzac Day..
Our soldier comrades far away,
They died in war - that we in peace
May live and love that war may cease

ANZAC Day (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps), celebrated on April 25th, is one of Australia and New Zealand's most important observances. It marks the anniversary of the first major military action fought by Australian and New Zealand forces during the First World War. It was also the first occasion in which Australian and New Zealand military were commanded by their own officers rather that British. The soldiers in those forces became known as ANZACs, and the pride they took in that name endures to this day.

I am making this post on April 24th for two reasons: (1) April 25 begins in Australia and New Zealand more than half a day before it does in the United States and (2) this may be my last post for a while. Bellsouth is threatening to discontinue my Internet service any day now. My first pension check is "in the mail" but I may not receive it in time for me to pay the Bellsouth bill.

I first learned of ANZAC Day many years ago from a song by Eric Bogle entitled The Band Played Waltzing Matilda. The song chronicles the First World War attack by British Commonwealth forces on the Gallipoli peninsula, a part of the Ottoman (Turkish) Empire. The ANZACs formed a major portion of the attacking forces. The last verses (below) of Bogle's song are what turned me on to ANZAC Day and began my research many years ago:

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.

And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.

And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,

And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask meself the same question.

But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.

Suvla Bay, Gallipoli , 1915

The Gallipoli campaign, the first major engagement of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, was a hellish fiasco. Winston Churchill, who was then First Lord of the Admiralty, pressed for a landing on the Gallipoli Peninsula. The ensuing battle loss of 147,000 Allied casualties (more than 33,600 ANZAC losses, over one-third killed) resulted in Churchill's resignation.

However, even in defeat, Gallipoli was seen as a time of glory for the ANZACs. Today there is an ANZAC Memorial at Gallipoli set aside by the government of Turkey as sacred ground to honor the Allied army that invaded it in 1915:

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives. . . You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore, rest in peace. There is no difference to us between the ‘Johnnies’ and the ‘Mehmets,’ where they lie side by side here in this country of ours. . . You, the mothers, who sent your sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well. ~ M. Kemal Ataturk

And for Australians and New Zealanders, there is ANZAC Day, the day of remembrance of heroes of the landing on Gallipoli in 1915.

Today we remember with thanksgiving those who made the supreme sacrifice for us in time of war. We pray that the offering of their lives may not have been in vain. Today we dedicate ourselves to the cause of justice, freedom and peace; and for the wisdom and strength to build a better world. ~ from ANZAC Day Remembrance Service

Additional Links

ANZAC Day in New Zealand

ANZAC Day in Queensland

Remembrance

Remembrance Services

A poppy for ANZAC day

Anzac Day Ceremonies in Australia 2007

Anzac Day Ceremonies Overseas 2007

Anzac Day Services Gallipoli, Turkey - 2007

ANZAC Services 2007 in the United States of America

1981 Film, Gallipoli, starring Mel Gibson & Mark Lee

Friday Mishmash & Updates

Blogger Finally Allowed Me to Switch

As of 6:30 p.m. yesterday, Nick’s Bytes is now in the “new” Blogger format. If you have any problems accessing it (I assume you didn’t or you’d not be reading this) or posting comments, let me know. (See my profile for my email address).

Alex the Hulk

I seem to be creating a monster cat! Since I purchased Alex a box of his favorite cat food (which he had not had for several weeks) he continually harasses (read: “claws") me for more and more of it. The first day I fed it to him, he demanded it over and over to the point I fed him six packets during the day (that’s 18 oz). He then heaved most of it up on the kitchen floor.

The feeding instructions on the packets read: “1 oz/85 g per pound of (cat) weight.” That means that I over fed Alex by about 7 oz. I thought that cats, unlike dogs, stopped eating when they were full!

The same day I overfed the cat that controls my life I followed a Google Adsense ad on my blog and took a test regarding Mr. Alex’s health. Basically the results said that I am a good cat mommy (?) and give Alex exceptional care except that the little fir ball is a bit overweight as determined by his profile which includes having a round belly. (Hell! I have big round belly, just like Santa Claus).

Since reading that, I have restricted Mr. Alex’s feeding to two packets of the Friskies pouches supplemented by his dry cat food. I am also paying for it, with (1) a broken ceramic cat dish (Alex pushed the empty dish off his cat table onto the floor) and (2) cat scratches on my legs (the results of not jumping up and feeding Alex when he so demands).

Does anyone know of a good cat psychologist? I need to advice!

How to Speak/Interpret Aussie

With today (or yesterday if you’re in Australia) being Australia Day, I decided I needed to learn Australian English. So I did a Google search and came up with this site: Aussie Slang.

Update: Mom

My mother remains in the rehab center in Elizabethtown, Kentucky. I miss her; however she doesn’t want to expend the gasoline necessary to visit. Actually, she is reluctant to have any visitors, including her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She says that visitors tire her out and she is already exhausted from the physical therapy.

Still, I speak with her by telephone (she has her cell phone by the bed and that makes it a local call from Louisville) three or four times each day. Her mood changes: during one call she is optimistic about returning to her home; then she sounds as if she has not hope of ever returning home.

As a therapist and pastor who has worked extensively with the elderly, I can understand this. Much demands on how she feels at any given moment. If I speak to her when she is in pain (back pain from pinched nerves or stomach pain from the meds), she is pessimistic. If she is not in pain, she is optimistic. I wish I had a prognosis from the rehab staff; unfortunately, they are noncommittal.

The Employment Picture

After learning that my application to the Board of Education had been purged after I chose to sell insurance rather than teach, I have resubmitted my application. It seems that I must start from scratch and cannot be placed on the substitute teacher call list until I have attended another orientation. There is no orientation scheduled until after Spring Break. That being the case, I have also begun to submit my teaching application to other school systems.

I’m in the process of updating my pastoral profile (I’m trained as an “intentional interim” pastor). The process has become more complex and expensive since I last updated it. For example, I must obtain and pay for a criminal records check. It seems the criminal records checks I had done for the Board of Education and the Kentucky Insurance Commission last year are not acceptable. How many times must I prove that I am not a criminal?

I also continue to submit my resume for social work positions. Even with a master’s degree in social work, there seems to be a lot of competition, for these jobs. I begin to wonder if my age (I’ll been 61 in less than a month) reduces my desirability.

The only recent job interviews I had are for insurance positions and each of these requires me to pay the insurance company for the privilege of selling their insurance. That how it was with Liberty National Life Insurance Company: I spent over $800.00 to obtain that position. At the last interview I attended (Farmers Insurance), the initial cost of working for the company was about $1600.00.