Eventhough we have talked many times this season, I figured I should give you guys a little photo update and fill you in on a few things...
Following tradition, I grew my mustache again this year. If you aren't fortunate to remember the 2007 stache, then here's a quick reminder:
Notice the almost child-like fuzz which graced my upper lip like many of the young Latino busboys at your local diner. I was actually fine with that stache, but this years was a little better.
It seems to have gotten a little thicker and darker. Sadly, I wasn't able to let it grow until Christmas Day because I had a job interview and the stache just wasn't going to cut it.
The cars in the Hogan family were not numerous, but the memories certainly were. Whether it be basic errands, day trips to Earls in Franklin for Halloween pumpkins or long driving-heavy vacations, the car was a place where we all grew closer. We would read, talk, fight, listen to music, laugh, sleep and just be a family in those cars and that is why they are special to me.
Let's start from the first one I can remember. The Benz...
From Kristin:
It was always breaking down.
Mom and Dad brought me home from the hospital in it.
I still remember it's smell- not sure what that was...not bad but definitely there.
From George:
I remember it being parked all the time, but I can't recall riding it though. I have a fairly vivid memory of sitting in it a few times. I remember that the brown (leather/vinyl/pleather) upholstery was torn in a few places. Kristin mentioned the smell and I also remember that smell. It was a faded scent of pipe smoke. Dad usually had a pipe and pouch in the glove compartment and sometimes the pipe was left out near the emergency break.
Then came the back-to-back Oldsmobile station wagons. The first one was a blue woody and the second was a grey woody.
From Kristin (on the blue leased wagon):
None- I had to call Mom to even confirm that we had one. Apparently we leased it from one of Dad's hotels- It was an Oldsmobile, as was the next wagon.
From George:
I don't have any memories from this one either. Not sure how I remembered its existence.
From Kristin (on the grey wagon):
Playing with George and his "guys": T.V. Man; Fuzz hair and later came Eric and Lamonte.
Watching out that we aren't impaled by that horrible wire that stuck out of the seat.
Combing Dad's hair on long car trips and holding his hand while he drove.
Pulling your hair out
"Ahhh, I just vomited" -George
Junior Trivial Pursuit- I ALWAYS got the hard questions and I STILL hate that game!
Mom reading out loud nonstop in the front seat...usually my summer reading books
Mad Libs
From George:
Of course I remember playing with my "guys" back there. I would play with them everywhere. Sure, I didn't have quite the collection as Will Brockman, but I played them until they couldn't be played with anymore. And I also remember the wire that Kristin stills claims scarred her legs for life. Luckily I escaped without major injury. I think that I would usually sit behind Mom on trips. I could avoid the hours and hours of reading The Education of Little Tree by hiding back there. I also wasn't as excited to brush Dad's hair and hold his hand. I guess holding his hand would have been fine, but I was never a fan of the noises he made when his hair was brushed. That, and the dandruff.
I do have a couple memories that I could mention though. One, is when the family was driving somewhere on a trip with Boston in the car. It was known that Dad (like me) is not the most observant driver in the world. He tends to weave within the lines, so when we got pulled over by a suspicious police officer, it came as no surprise. The officer walked up to the car and questioned Dad about his behavior behind the wheel. Dad, being as quick as he is on his toes, decided to blame the entire thing on Boston. I remember pieces of the conversation as I clearly recall sitting behind him in that instance. He said something like, "The dog...all the kids...the dog...loud...distracting...the dog and sorry." I think the officer had been in that situation before and let us go with a warning. Poor Boston, but nice thinking on his part.
The second great memory is one that only Dad, Edward Buchanan, Tee Tompkins, Tom Paine and I would know. After basketball practice at Ensworth (with Paul Clements), Dad would sometimes pick us up. When he would arrive, we would beg him to lay the back seats down flat so we could roll around as he drove erratically on small and quite streets. He would take the long way home on small side roads off of Golf Club Lane. We would roll back and forth; laughing and laughing as he darted from side to side. It was so much fun, but pretty short-lived. Still, it was fun.
Then came the dark grey Peugeot.
From Kristin:
Mom pulling up in the hook-up line at Ensworth playing "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys with the sunroof open.
Heated seats- woohoo!
The Sherrards had one too
From George:
I've already mentioned baseball times with Coach Hogan and bringing Emmie home in the car. She was so cute. She had such a big and bare belly. The only thing that I remember on top of that is that, for some reason, I liked to use the cigarette lighter on the upholstery. Not sure why though. When did we get rid of that car? Why don't I have any memory of that?
And finally, the Hogan family favorite: The Montero.
From Kristin:
Gratefulness that we didn't get the mini van that looked like a Dustbuster
The Tilt-Meter
Learning how to drive in it and passing every boy on his way to MBA and waving on my way to Harpeth Hall
Trips to Captiva
Mom listening to her singles of Peter Cetera "Only a Fool", Annie Lennox and "Constant Craving", and "Just Another Sad Love Song" by ...?
From George:
The Montero is a legend in our family. That thing was Mom's favorite thing ever. She felt so trendy in it back in 92 BEFORE everyone else got an SUV. I also learned how to drive in the car and I remember Mom and I sneaking out in Franklin when I was 15 to practice. There are way too many memories in this one, so I think that I could do it better with the Top 10 songs from the Montero days.
Number 10: "Just Another Sad Love Song" by Toni Braxton
Number 9: "Finally" by Ce Ce Penniston
Number 8: "Losing My Religion" by REM
Number 7: "Rock Witch'a" by Bobby Brown
Number 6: "This Used to be My Playground" by Madonna
Number 5: "Luka" by Suzanna Vega
Number 4: "Runaway Train" by Soul Asylum
Number 3: "One Day" by Mariah Carey featuring Boyz to Men
Number 2: "Why?" by Annie Lenox. (This one is live. Here is the studio.)
Number 1: "Even a Fool Can See" by Peter Cetera (I couldn't find the studio.)
Bonus points to whomever can remember my version of "Even a Fool Can See".
When 고운 and I discuss our future and life in America, it invariably comes back to one thing: I want have to coach my son's baseball team.
There are few things that I want in this life. I want my children to be worldly, compassionate and concerned for the earth and their fellow man; my marriage solid and I want to coach my son's (or daughter's) baseball team. It might sound odd, but as we all know, Kristin and I had the amazing experience of having Dad coach our teams as we grew up. This was a bond that will forever stick with me and nothing can ever compare to some of the times that Dad and I shared together with the baseball.
Baseball is not my favorite sport -American football is, but when I look at a baseball diamond or see a glove or baseball, the memories come rushing back.
First, let me start by saying that Dad is not an athlete. In fact, I would be so bold to say that he is one of the most unathletic people I know, but that didn't stop him from trying failing to jump on a trampoline for the first at 40 years old or playing hours and hours of shuffleboard and ping pong with me and it certainly didn't stop him from being one of the best coaches a young boy could have.
I say "best", but it wasn't because he had supreme knowledge of the sport. That wasn't necessary for the hoards of little-leaguers that he would guide through the beginnings of the sport. He was the best because of the enthusiasm that he showed while coaching. I remember sitting with Dad on so many occasions while he and I would figure out each players batting averages and try to find the best place for them to bat in the line-up. He would spend months talking to other coaches, trying to find the best players for the upcoming little league draft. He had an unrivaled enthusiasm for baseball season and a gift for a fun, encouraging and productive practice. No matter how busy he was at work, he always seemed to be able to pull away and hit a few balls at practice or toss it around in our small and stick-riddled back yard.
To Dad, it wasn't about baseball. It was time with his children and family. As we know, he didn't have a close relationship with his father. There seemed to be some favoritism in the family and the attention was on Margaret Rose, rather than little Johnny. Maybe it was his adoption or maybe it was his father's inability to convey emotions well, but Dad told me about his rocky relationship with his father and always made it very clear to me that he did not intend our relationship to turn out like that. Baseball was his conduit. It was his way of opening the door to a close relationship with his children and wife. He didn't really love baseball; he loved what baseball stood for in our family.
Before this starts to sound more and more like a eulogy, I want to mention a Coach Hogan highlight. My earliest comes from my Tee Ball days which, of course, was towards the beginning of Dad's career as my coach. After a furious game where the Hogan-Paine (First baseman-Pitcher) combo led the way after a disastrous little boy decided that the pitcher's mound was second base, our Tee Ball team (The Black Knights -how did I remember that?) coasted to victory. The team gathered for its inspirational talk led by Coach Hogan. Dad was designed for inspirational talks. His voice gets just calm and non-threatening enough and his hand gestures are so subtle that he can use the same method with five year old's as he would with his hotelier colleagues. So the meeting started and Dad was wheeling along, making the parents and kids feel great. Out of nowhere, a mischievous little boy named Mark Wheeler stood up and decided that needed to tell the entire group something. It was so pressing that he couldn't wait for another moment.
"Coach Hogan...You have grey hair!!!"
His voice seemed to almost have a certain level of concern in it as he made the declaration. I can't say that I remember the reaction, but I know that it was funny and I know that Dad's skin was thick enough to take such scathing criticism. I have heard that story so many times from Mom, that when I think of Mark saying it, all I can hear is Mom's boy-voice impersonation, which sounds more like a sad cartoon bear or Eeyore than an actual child.
Practices were always so much fun as well. We'd do all the basic stuff and Dad would do his best not to favor me, but he did. It would have been impossible not to. And even though he was coaching all of those other kids out there, we both knew it was just me and him out there. I know now that he did that for me. I was on his team and he was my coach just like he was to the other boys, but at the end of the day it was our team. It was our team that we planned together. It was our team that we mocked when playing catch in the backyard ("Now, pretend to catch the ball like Jeff Sweeney!" he would say and so I would intentionally fall down and Dad and I would laugh and laugh.) It was our team that we arrived to practice early for and our team that we stayed behind after. It was our team, but he did that for me. He did that for our family.
When he would arrange the team picnics at Sequoia or a family outing to the Nashville Sounds game or the batting cages, he did that out of love and care for our family. He knew it bonded us. When he would give all of the kids trophy's at the end of the season even though we weren't the best team, he did that because he cared. He cared about his team, sure, but he cared about what baseball meant to us. As I grew older and the rigors of coaching and the need to become a traveling All-Star team took hold, Dad stepped down as Head Coach. We hired some guy named Steve Hicks to take the helms. Most of the guys on our team played together for years and I can tell you that once Dad left as Head, the entire teams enthusiasm dropped. Dad knew why we all played baseball and it wasn't for the win, it was for the fun. It was for being together and sharing something.
I played on so many of Dads teams. We were awful for years and years as well. We were awful on the Orioles, the A's, the Rockies, and three years of Phillies. We were not known as the powerhouse team, but we were all friends. And call it karma, but my last season under Coach Hogan, we were the number one team.
And as life has continued on and I am no longer a boy, I will always have those memories; those amazingly special, loving and youthful memories. I will always be thankful for his enthusiasm and love that came from that beautiful baseball diamond.
Unlike Dad, I will not have to tell my children that I was never close to my father. And I can guarantee you that there will be another Coach Hogan around within the decade and, luckily, I learned from the best.
It's only fitting to end with song that Dad and I concluded so many of our games and practices with. We would blare this tune in the Peugeot with the sunroof down, just enjoying our time as coach and player; father and son.
Thank you, Coach Hogan.
From Kristin:
Those were the days:
This entry brings back SO many great memories that filled each spring and summer for many years. I, too, have funny memories of Dad and softball. We would make fun of the poor innocent kids that were drafted onto our teams as last picks. This would include Annie who we called "Ronald McDonald" because of her bright red shiny cleats. The funny part was that she really didn't need them because she was so bad. Then there was the girl (Allison?) that wore white Keds and was only on our team because her big sister was good and they were a package deal.
I loved going as a family to West End Junior High and playing ball there. We would take turns hitting, pitching and fielding. Mom was my favorite fielder! ;) GOod times for sure. I, too, want to recreate those memories with Hattie and those to come.
Did you see what Kristin and Uncle John did? They edited an old post and added their story to it. They did not create a new post. Mmmkay? Next, when you are posting a new topic or adding to an old one, there are a lot of options for you.
First of all, when posting, make sure you are in "Edit Html" mode and not "Compose" mode. You will find the tabs at the top right of the blogger toolbar when you are writing a post. You should automatically be brought to the "Edit Html" mode anyways, so this shouldn't be a problem.
Bolding If you want to bold something highlight the word, sentence or phrase that you want bolded and click the bolded "b" on the blogger toolbar or you can simply highlight it a hit the Ctrl button and B at the same time.
Italisized If you want to italisize something highlight the word, sentence or phrase that you want italisized and click the italisized "i" on the blogger toolbar or you can simply highlight it a hit the Ctrl button and I at the same time.
Inserting a Link This might be hard for you, but I'll try. Next to the "i" on the blogger toolbar, there is what looks like a green ball with two eyes. This is the icon you click when you want to link a word to a site or story on the internet. To use it, first you need to know what word you want to highlight.
For instance,
"I went to Ensworth School."
I want to link the word "Ensworth" to the Ensworth website. So, I would open a new internet window and go to the Ensworth website. Once on the Ensworth website, I would highlight the url and copy it (Ctrl C).
After that, I would go back to the already opened blogger post and highlight the word "Ensworth". Once it was highlighted, I would click on the green ball with eyes on the toolbar (make sure that "Ensworth" is still highlighted, otherwise blogger doesn't know what word to link.)
When you click on the green ball with eyes, a window will pop up. Add the entire link into that box. Be careful though. When you first open it, there will be a "http://" waiting there for you. Make sure you paste (Ctrl P) the "Ensworth" url over that. Otherwise it will look like this...
"http://http://www.ensworth.com"
Two "http://" does not make sense to the program.
Blockquotes
Of course that means nothing to you, so let me show you.
"Not only are women and men offended by this pander, but the voters don't seem to think too highly of her readiness to lead."
And then I cited a quote from an article. I needed to use blockquotes so that my readers know that I did not write it.
39% say she is ready to serve as president if needed, 33% say she isn't, and 29% have no opinion.
That's the lowest vote of confidence in a running mate since the elder George Bush chose then-Indiana senator Dan Quayle to join his ticket in 1988. In comparison, Delaware Sen. Joe Biden was seen as qualified by 57%-18% after Democrat Barack Obama chose him as a running mate last week."
To do that, I just highlighted the entire section I wanted to quote and clicked the " icon on the toolbar (between the green ball with eyes and the spell check).
Spellcheck
Click on it.
Adding an image
Very easy as well. If you have a picture you want to add, make sure it is saved on your computer. Then, click the icon that looks like a picture (half sky-half land). Once you click on it, a separate window will pop up. I think it says "Add Image", but I'm not sure. My blogger is in Korean. 아이고!!
Click "Add Image" and then locate the image that you want to add and then hit the orange "Upload Image" icon on the popup screen. Make sure you "accept the terms". It will take a moment to add the image. When it does add the image, it will add it to the top, but it will appear as code (text) at the top of your post. If you want to move the image to somewhere in the post besides the very top, then you will have to highlight the entire code (text) and copy it (Ctrl C). Then simply scroll down to where you want to add the picture and paste it (Ctrl P). Make sure you delete the code at the top though, otherwise you will have two of the same images in the post. When you "Preview" your post, it will show up as an image, not code.
I figured I should write a quick one about the back bedroom. There was always something strange about this room. I don't think I ever slept there though, but I do have memories of other people sleeping there. The Romeiser's slept there during their visits and I know Grandma did as well, but the room gave off a strong don't-sleep-here vibe. A lot of that had to do with the fact that I was a little scared of it at night. One entire wall of the bedroom was glass doors that opened onto our back padio. It sounds inviting, but at night time the creepy shed, coupled with the eerie and dimly lit alley, was enough to scare a full grown man.
Everything about that room had an odd vibe. It was almost like an entity that was separate from the rest of the house. While life was fun and youthful throughout the halls and other rooms in the house, this room seemed to be frozen in a old person/odd storage room theme. For instance, if you needed balloons then you would go to the back bedroom. If you needed to test the strength of batteries, then you would go to the back bedroom. If you needed to weigh yourself or find the old mildewing boardgames, then you would go to the back bedroom. If you wanted to sit on a old dusty chair, next to an old scratched coat-rack and a vase full of match books, then you would go to the back bedroom. I actually discovered that Santa did not exist in the back bedroom. Being the genius that she is, Mom thought it was a safe place to hide presents before Christmas Day. She assumed that the scariness of the room would repel my peeping eyes, but she was wrong. It wasn't like she hid them well either. She simple plopped them down on far side of the bed with Santa's name already written on there in her handwriting! I guess she assumed that both of her children would be equally gullible and accept that mythical bunnies, fairies and fat men actually cared about children. I knew that they didn't care about children. Why would they? They were magic! I wouldn't care about children if I was magic.
The back bedroom was an interesting place that resonated with old people. It was a flash back to the past then and it serves as a great flashback now.
Oh yeah, Emmie loved to pee back there. What else did we keep back there?
-George
UNCLE JOHN:
OK, so that was why that bedroom smelled so funky -- thanks Emmie. We always thought the glass doors with little to cover them were a perfect place for voyeurs to do their stuff. Love the thoughts on this special room.
-John
HARRIET:
Okay, okay...I did not think I would have such a snoop looking for Santa's gifts! Kristin never wanted to spoil the fun... just you, George! I figured out you had discovered my hiding place when Christmas morning..after you had not opened something you remembered seeing back there, you led us back there to check for it! You, rascal!
Now on to the back bedroom! It was a bright room with Momo's antique furniture in it. We tried so hard to fix it up and I thought it was a lovely room. We had the dhurruie rug which, you are right, Emmie enjoyed relieving herself on. We painted the blue grass cloth a light yellow and put a colorful quilt on the bed and antique linens. The closet and chest back there did hold all sorts of things like: wrapping supplies, balloons..you are right, board games, photo albums, candles, and wine glasses that we had to house there since the kitchen did not have enough cabinet space.
I do not think you would have ever slept in there...but many guests did.
I will be interested in Kristin's thoughts about that room...once I figure out how to add pics to this I can add some.
So many memories....such great years of my life. Since we are recounting all memories, the significant and less so, I have one to share. This also took place in the lovely living room on Central Ave. where so much fun and frivolity transpired in the Hogan household. As you all know, I've always so cherished the moments I could slip away and play the piano. Each morning, after heating up my 2 Little Debbie "pecan-twirls" or honeybun (we did eat wholesome breakfasts but this was my favorite), I'd run down the hall to sit behind Nana's piano. I'd practice my piano there until my hook-up (that's what we called it at Ensworth) came to pick me up or until it was time for us to leave because it was Mom's morning to pick-up the group.
George would usually be doing something equally productive such as sit glued to the television watching Gilligan's Island. He was probably eating a Honeybun out of the cream colored or black microwave dish that Mom still has, I'm sure. It’s just as likely that he was eating a microwaved white Lender's bagel by dipping it into the Philadelphia cream cheese container....which everyone else in the family always appreciated. Unfortunately, when he came to live in Cincinnati with Trey and me for a year, he'd not broken himself of that habit but he had graduated from the Skipper to watching Zach Morris and his posse.
ANYWAY, one afternoon, George was hovering around the piano as he so often would, trying to annoy me and I decided to write a song for him. I feel like it was a joke (at least in my mind) because it was such a hokey song but he LOVED it! I even made up words. (I should add that George was about 8 at the time before it gets weird. The lyrics were as follows: "I am a clo-ow-ow-ow-own. How do you do?" Clever, huh? I think that was about the extent of it. George loved it though and danced about the living room boisterously with great excitement. He leapt over the blue couch in the center of the room, and threw himself on the floor as all little boys do in their everyday activities. He might have even had his standard piece of American Cheese in hand(not "cheese FOOD" but the real thing- we NEVER ate the individually wrapped "fake" stuff mind you). To this day, if I start that feisty base line on the piano, he gets giddy and his feet start a tap-tap-tappin'. My how catchy tunes never leave your mind. ;)
While we're on the subject of the piano, I might as well share a couple other blips with you. George used to sneak in from the long hall, crawling on his hands and knees and turn the corner into the living room where I sat contentedly playing the piano. Once positioned under the piano, he would then abruptly grab my foot or leg and I'd obviously scream bloody murder! This was a regular occurrence. It actually caused me to allow unnecessary rests in my pieces as I'd sense George's presence at my feet and have to stop to make sure he wasn't under the piano. I sure felt silly the many times I thought he was there and looked down to see nothing but my foot on the pedal. When he moved to Cincinnati 2005-2006 he continued the tradition. Trey tried it a couple of times. It scared me but was honestly just a little weird. :) I guess that's what little brothers are for....not husbands.
Oh and Mom, George used to hide his cigarettes under the piano.
That piece of furniture has been all over the country. I know that it was in Winchester, IN when my great grandma Nellie Beals "Nana" bought/owned it. It was then moved to Memphis, TN when Nana moved in with Mom's mom/family (Harriet Beal’s Romeiser). Mom then inherited it and it moved up to Boston in an open air truck. You can tell SOMEone isn't a pianist.....as most would shudder to think of that beautiful instrument loaded onto some hillbilly get-up trailer headed up the east coast. SOoooo.....Mom taught me the standard knuckle/fist roll song that everyone learns as a little one. I remember Mom teaching me that once we got to Nashville (age 3-4). Her passion must have been radiating off of her as she went to town teaching me that masterpiece because I was hooked after that. I don't think anyone ever had to ask me to practice. That piano was like a magnet to me. Every spare moment I wanted to play. There were certainly times Mom and George....especially George, requested that I STOP practicing the piano. George continued with those requests when he lived here with us in Cincinnati. I must say, though that Dad would, on occasion, just sit in a chair in the living room and listen. He'd compliment how lovely my playing was....I so appreciated that and think his compliments helped me continue in spite of George's frequent ridicule....UNLESS, that is, unless I started playing "I am a Clo-ow-ow-ow-own." That charmed him like snake every time.
The piano left Nashville and moved to Franklin, TN then on to Tulsa, OK. Trey and I then spent LOTS of money restoring the piano as a piece of furniture and then having it restrung, where needed. We even had the bench redone. The guy asked me several times if I was sure I wanted to do this because we could've bought a concert grand for as much as we put into this old grand piano but it wasn't about the money. I could never trade this piano for anything as it holds way too many special memories for me. It's not about the material thing, it's about the memories BUT as long as I have it, I'm going to take good care of it. When I sit behind it I feel such a security and joy. Part of it is I still so love playing it but most of it is that I can relive those wonderful memories of childhood. Now I can share that with my precious husband and daughter. I can think of nothing more fun than sitting on that piano bench with Hattie between Trey and me and playing away. Trey plays the bass and I the treble. Hattie, well, Hattie will grow into it. Maybe I need to get GranGee/Mom to teach her the knuckle roll song with the same enthusiasm she must have shared with me. And the beat goes on.
-Kristin
GEORGE:
Way to rat me out Kristin! No, I knew she knew where I hid them. In retrospect, I should have just hid them under my bed or anywhere else in my room rather than such a public and high-traffic area like the living room. Oh well, I guess I kind of thought I was being super sneaky or clever. I even rigged up a little holster in there that would prevent them from falling. Ha! Well, we all know who bought me my first CARTON of cigarettes! That's right.
Unlike Kristin, I enjoyed working on my dance moves rather than wasting time on the piano. The dance moves I learned from "I am a clown" have gotten where I am today. If you imagine a gingerbread man moving from side to side then you pretty much have got that dance down. Kristin would encourage the dancing and would always get such a big kick out of it. I'm really not sure how both of us didn't go crazy listening to that song though. I mean, the song and lyrics are fiercely repetitive.
While I'm writing this I can clearly remember watching Kristin over all the pictures on the piano to make sure she was watching my moves. I usually needed her approval. Some of my earliest memories of Kristin playing the piano all include that song. On a typical day, she would be in there banging around on the keys; stopping regularly and saying sorry like there was a huge audience. I would start sneaking into the living room from the door to the den in hopes of a big foot-grabbing surprise. It would usually work, but sometimes I would hear her calmly say "Geoooooorge" in her monotone I-just-caught-you voice. She still does that by that way. I had to move to Korea to get away from it.
It was a great piano. Not because I can play it at all, but because Kristin and I built some fun memories around it.
As I watch sweet fifteen year old Emmie grow slower each day, I find myself remembering how amazingly playful and fun this little dog once was!
She was my "Spring Dog"...always leaping for joy at the possibility of going for a ride in the car or for a walk. Emmie loved her toys so much and had some unusual toys. Some I remember were Kristin's fuzzy slippers that we called her "fuzz". She also liked old worn down conch shells and a variety of other toys..perhaps you all will remember. George used to like to line up all of her toys in a row and see which one she would go for...usually "fuzz"!
Emmie would throw these toys around..up in the air and everywhere to make them more fun to her. We actually got a call from our security people once telling us our pet alley had been alerted and we discovered it was Emmie throwing toys up in the air as she played by herself in our main hall. What a dog!
I remember watching sweet Boston and my dear childhood dog Spot decline and how hard that was. Emmie is my most loyal friend. She follows me all over this house. She even struggles up the stairs each time I come to the computer.
These dogs are so important in our lives, such special memories!
Emmie and her playfulness will always be a strong memory for me!
-Harriet
FROM GEORGE:
Emmie is a pretty heavy topic to start out with Harriet, but I guess you write what you know. Emmie and I have had a complex relationship through the years. There were so many classic times with her that it's so hard to put it into words. I'll start out with our first full day together.
The decision to buy a new dog was not an easy one. I don't think it was as hard for me, Kristin or Dad as it was for Mom who was not over the loss of Boston. And if I remember correctly, there was a little animosity or resentment that mom held towards Emmie in the beginning. Nonetheless, I remember the day we all decided to buy Emmie. Kristin was not there. I think she was doing some cheerleading thing or something, so Dad, Mom, my friend Andy Nelson and I got into the Peugeot and headed to the house where we had heard there were dogs to adopt.
The house was one of those split level houses with a big back deck. There were only two dogs left: Tameka and Coco-Puff. Tameka, who was given that name because she was all black, was this tiny little puppy with a bare belly. She was so cute and playful. Coco-Puff was a chocolate lab with some sort of fungus on his right leg. Andy and I tried to convince Mom and Dad to adopt both of them, but in the end we chose to take Tameka, who would soon be given a range of names. We got in the car with our little Tameka. I was so excited and Andy and I kept her in the back seat with us.
It was a beautiful spring day and honestly those are the days that make children love their childhood. Could it get any better for a ten year old boy. I mean a new puppy, blue skies, a cool breeze, French cars , best friend, family and to top it off, I remember the song that was playing. It was The Hondells covering Little Honda.
We drove home that day with big smiles as we welcomed our little Tameka into our home. Kristin would arrive sometime later to the surprise, but in the meantime I called by neighborhood friend, Justin Eagle (Korean by the way), and he came over. We played and played and played. When night came I was determined for Tameka to sleep with me, so I barricaded the space between my two beds and just assumed that that would hold her. It did not and I woke up to a load of Emmie poop and vomit. It was okay though. I had a new puppy and a new best friend. -George
********************** Emmie's Favorite Pet Sitter
All I have to say is how lucky we were to find a pet sitter as wonderful as Ward. He sure loved that Emmie. I think we all remember the nickname he had for her... it was a pleasant 5 letter word. We would expect nothing less from a guy as swell as Ward! -Goose
This blog will serve as an open forum for our family (both nuclear and extended) to reminisce about the past, revisit our more youthful moments and dig up old and thought-to-be forgotten jokes. Most importantly, I decided that if we wanted to stay fresh, close and appreciative of where we are and why, then we must have a written account of our familial past. Enjoy!!!
