More on Chance, the dog and the Summer of Nick Von Bell

I thought quite a bit about Chance the dog and his owner from my last post.  I hope actually that Chance is still running wild with lots of open spaces and things to explore in heaven. Or maybe he has come back as a dog whisperer who works with aggressive dogs. I hope to God, truly, that his owner is now clean and sober.  Maybe that was the event that tipped her over into sobriety and recovery.  And I hope that little boy doesn't remember that day at all.  May it be so.  

On another note entirely, I have been remembering an even more ancient set of events than the one I shared last time.  During the summer between 6th and 7th grade, I decided that I would invent a make up boyfriend.  I was 12 at the time, right?  Some of you who are my Facebook friends who I went to school with may remember this and be relieved that I don't continue to believe this story.  Anyway, his name was Nick Von Bell.  I kid you not.  He was from Paris and during the summer, he took me to Paris and we just had the most wonderful time.  I must have met his family and we toured the city and I learned French and all kinds of things.  

  So when school started up in September I actually decided to tell people this story.  I remember the kind of blank stares I got from the girls I told this story to. It was like, "Okay, Linda.  Thanks for sharing."  I kept up with he story for quite a bit of the first part of 7th grade.  I finally just let it go and never did go back to the girls I told the story to tell them I had made it up.  I guess I thought they just forgot about it and had concluded I was nuts.  Which at some level I had to have been to think it was a good idea to make up something so absurdly not possible.  But let's remember, Kennedy had just recently been elected, we were still being subjected to the duck and cover drills to help us survive a nuclear holocaust, the cold war was very cold and the Cuban Missile Crisis just around the corner.  It was like Camelot meets Dr. Strangelove in the wider world.  Why not make up a story about a boyfriend and going to Paris? Of course, there was that tiny other backdrop to this fantasy in my "real" world.  That was the worsening of my mother's alcoholism that set the stage for much of the way my life has played out since, the good, the bad, the absurd and the sublime.  Back then, it was the bad.  Anyone who knows about alcoholic families back then, before we all started talking about Everything, knows that drill.  So Nick Von Bell and Paris.  Not a bad deal, when you stop to think of it.    

For my Valentine

Once upon a time,not so very long ago, in 1981 or1982, Steve and I lived in Portland while I was going to graduate school. We were living in NE Portland near the Lloyd Center in a little apartment with these wonderful neighbors living in the same building. There was Escobar, who was from Peru and made us lovely pastries. His wife, Jan. Then there was a young woman who lived downstairs, who's name I can't recall right now, but I do remember her cat's name, Loretta. That's kinda nutty, I know. Anyway, in the house right next door there lived a woman, who was almost for sure a crackhead. Which is okay as far as that goes. But she had a big Malamute Husky named Chance who she kept tied up on a short leash in the front yard all the time and I do mean all the time. He was kind of an unpredictable dog. Like one minute he might bark like crazy at us and run to the end of his leash and another time he might just walk over to the edge of the driveway and be sort of friendly. We would talk to him then, but otherwise we would usually give him a pretty wide berth.

In the meantime, there were bikers and kinda scary looking people coming and going from this house with Chance standing watch at all times. Well, one day I was standing in our living room and I hear this growling sound. I stepped out onto our little porch to check out what might be happening. I looked over and here is Chance with his jaws clamped on to a little child's head, shaking the child like a rag doll. Well I let out a scream and Steve came running. He took one look and raced over to the scene, while I continued to scream like a crazy woman. First he yelled at the dog and then quickly jumped behind the dog and yanked at his collar until Chance released the child. He held the dog above the child and either me or someone else was able to get to the little boy and get him out of there. His little head was bleeding and the little guy was panicked and crying. Chance did not do anything. He just let Steve lead him away. Steve said he thought it was like he knew he had done something very wrong.

We later learned that the child, who was about 4-5 years old, had to have multiple stitches in his little scalp. There is no question that Chance would have killed that baby if Steve had not been there to pull him away. We later appeared in court, in a case brought by the boy's parents,  and Steve testified to that fact. The judge was all ready to dismiss the case, but was shown a picture of the injuries to the little guy. He took one look and ordered the dog destroyed. I have always held that Chance should have been given to some rancher out somewhere and the woman who kept him so cruelly should have been destroyed. That would have been way more just. But, no one consulted with me on the matter.

Steve's actions that day represent who he is in his deepest self. I suppose you could say that anyone would do the same given the same circumstances. I honestly don't know if I could have. Maybe I would have beaten the dog on the head with a shovel or something. I really don't know. But there was no time to think, just time to act. And Steve did. Yesterday he told me he was riding his bike and passed a dog and it suddenly all came rushing back, the fear and panic. That happens every now and then. That guy who saved that child, who is probably around 38 years old today, that guy, my husband, that is who he was then and who he is today. I am ever grateful.

This, That and the Other Thing

Here I am in Barcelona a few years ago

Not sure why I chose that photo for today's blog.  But there you go.

I have been thinking lately about my strange relationship with cyberspace via Facebook and this blog mostly.  For instance, just very recently I had an entire process of decision making occur that included 4 other human beings that took place via Facebook and email and nary one word was spoken in actual in person speaking fashion.  The whole thing happened over a period of several days as well.  Ideas were shared, other people consulted, etc. Very interesting to me.  It's dangerous territory for someone such as myself, who is basically an introvert.  For instance, my last blog about my childhood friends, the Pearson's, I am not too sure I would share that story verbally, face to face with just anyone.  I actually have told only a very few people that story face to face. It was also somewhat of a departure from my usual blog fare, kind of going from "hey, what's going on in The World to what's going on in my world or my head or heart.  One risks oversharing, if you get my drift.  Especially if one is an introvert.  Hey, let's just let the whole world know a little somethin' about me they didn't know,bam!(Well, not the whole world. In view of the comments I get back it may really be like about 10 people who ever really see this thing, but hey, that's 10 people who didn't know my Pearson's story) I seem to be using the word, "hey" quite a bit today.  But I digress.  Back to my point: I feel that I am creating another persona on this blog.  Not my original intention.  I mean, not totally another persona, but sort of. Is that entirely a good thing? Is doing that feeding some insatiable force in the universe pulling us all away from actual human contact and interaction? This is my question to you, dear reader, if you are out there and inclined to reply. No pressure, you understand, but still... and "hey"!

On another topic entirely, I just finished reading the book "All the Things We Cannot See", by Anthony Doerr.  Not to brag or anything, but he lives right here in Boise.  Anyway, it is the best damn book I have read in a very long time.  I highly and unreservedly recommend it.  What a lovely and compelling story.  The title so captures the very essence of the story. And, ironically, given the above paragraph, the story involves a relationship that develops with very little face to face contact and how the most obscure things connect us.  

And also, this whole thing with Brian Williams...how much we seem to want to hang out in the corridors just waiting for the popular guy to trip and fall on his face.  Who amongst us hasn't totally exaggerated or actually lied or done some damn thing that we hope nobody hears about? (See Anne Lamott's post on Facebook today)  And as Bill Moyers points out so well, who cares whether Brian Williams lied about something he did or didn't do in Iraq.  How about calling out the liars who started the entire war on a giant pack of lies, the result of which is a much destabilized Middle East.  No, let's rattle on like a bunch of junior high nerds on CNN and other "news" channels about how Brian Williams lied.  Are we really that dumb as a nation? 

And then again, there is all the bruhaha about President Obama pointing out the obvious about Christianity.  Maybe he should be impeached for speaking the truth about something.  Jeeeeezzz...