tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88981763307822020542024-03-13T11:54:32.514-07:00The Bullseye DartDixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-32634907413672413142013-04-28T15:47:00.003-07:002013-04-28T15:47:38.945-07:00Dream A Little Dream<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“When you wish upon a star</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Makes no difference who you are</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Anything your heart desires</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Will come to you...”</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>(from Walt Disney’s Pinocchio)</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Well, maybe.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In fact, some things your heart desires will come to you, and some won’t. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Many of my dreams <i>have</i> come true. I’ve been lucky in life. But I started thinking last night about how the time comes when the more practical-minded of us start facing the fact that there are some dreams we have that will never come true. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I remember well the heady feeling of being 20, 21, 22, and knowing that very few doors were closed to me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>If I have to, I can do anything</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>I am strong </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>I am invincible</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>I am woman!</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">(Helen Reddy, <i>I Am Woman</i>)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Even then that was a bit of an exaggeration, though not all that far from the truth, really. But then, as life choices are made, and as bodies age, one starts to hear the soft click of closing doors more and more often. Sometimes one can force those doors back open; sometimes it’s better to just walk away down the hall.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here are a dozen dreams I have let go recently:</span></div>
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<li style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I will never grow up in the UK. I always wanted to be a little British child and grow up breathing British air, hearing British accents all around, calling my favorite island my home. But it’s too late. I grew up in Missouri.</span></li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cotswold village where I didn't grow up</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">Along the same lines, I will never live the life of the characters in my favorite books. I will never be shipwrecked on an island where I tame a wild stallion, never replay my life over and over with the option of changing it each time, never visit Digitopolis or Dictionopolis, never be sent off-world for a high school final project in survival and get marooned, never fly to the Mushroom Planet.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many books, so many fantasy lives</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">Speaking of space, I will never go there. No, I won’t. The opportunity for ‘regular people’ to do it is close, so close, but not quite close enough. When it happens I may still be here, but I will be too old.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No blast off for me</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">And about that ‘too old’ business, I will never have my youthful body back. Nor my nice reliable memory. I don’t know how or when they started creeping away (if my memory were better, I would), but they are gone. I can’t complain about what I’ve still got, but it isn’t what I used to have, that’s for sure.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where did that body go? I can't remember...</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">The body I do still have tells me I’m not going to get to run ever again. I used to love to run - not in races, just for fun, to feel my hair streaming back and the wind whipping at my face. Arthritis says, no more; sorry. Walk. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running for those who can't</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I might be able to ride a horse again, but I’ll never own one. I always somehow thought I would, that’s one of the dreams I’ve given up most recently. I read so much about them when I was young that I imagined I would know how to take care of one. No, I don’t, and I’m not going to make one my guinea pig. No horses. Just dogs and cats.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely horse in England</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I will never become fluent in a foreign language. Not even one of the ones I used to know (though I was never truly fluent in any of them). I keep language-learning material around because I imagine that I’m going to pick it up one day and start spouting Spanish or Welsh or German. But, no.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three of many languages I will not be mastering</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I will never be a good swimmer. I can move from Point A to Point B in the water, under most circumstances; I even snorkeled the Blue Hole off the shores of Belize. But I am not at home in the water. I am very much at home *on* the water, in a ship or a boat. But not in it.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flailing my way across Crocodile Creek, in Australia</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I will never live in Australia. Or Hawaii. Or any number of alluring places that I have visited and would love to go back to permanently. In some cases, I really am too old, they wouldn’t let me in unless I could prove I came with a gazillion dollars so I could support myself until death do I part and never have to depend on them to support me (Australia). Sometimes it’s because outsiders aren’t assimilated easily (Hawaii). Oh, I won’t spend the rest of my life in Missouri. But many places are off the list.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful Australia</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beach in Hawaii</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I will never read everything I want to. I won’t even read every book that is on my shelves in my own house, right now, and I want to read them all badly enough to have bought them. I always want to learn more, and know more, and there is always so much more to learn and know that I will never catch up. That doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Read Me"</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I will never see plate tectonics in action. Reading about the amazing ways the continental plates move around the globe makes me want to see it happen. Well, that takes millions of years, unfortunately (fortunately, really; if it happened fast enough for us to see it I don’t think we would be able to survive the effects). Still - what an awesome thing it would be to watch!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, it's worth a try</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I won’t ever be good at math. I have given myself permission to give up that struggle. So I count on my fingers for the rest of my life. There are worse things.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What little math I knew is fading, fading away...</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now, this is not to say that I have given up all my dreams. Far from it. Here are four dreams I am still holding out hope for:</span></div>
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I would love to become a good photographer. I like to take pictures but I usually wish the final product looked better than it does. I plan to take classes and try to actually achieve that goal.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posing for the camera</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I would like to visit Antarctica. I’ve been to six continents; this is the seventh and last. But ticking the box isn’t the only reason I want to go there. I want to sail the Drake Passage, one of the roughest seas on earth. I want to experience the unearthly sensation of nothing but ice and water and animals stretching from one horizon to the other - under a sun that never really sets. Since I can’t go into space, Antarctica may be the closest thing possible to visiting another world.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wkKFYLMFoiSQWgzqNbeIJdptgiUKzg5RuRhm6asPFAIrDoTjTNaUDmF6FmyggyfgDsbHFc5NuS8MYzei6-bhzCI94rRdqUtq9lzMqDe08Xm_qpmnhbgc8blva8ZgXKTGWOjqdm8byII/s1600/03febsgeorgiafortunabaycsmetz13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wkKFYLMFoiSQWgzqNbeIJdptgiUKzg5RuRhm6asPFAIrDoTjTNaUDmF6FmyggyfgDsbHFc5NuS8MYzei6-bhzCI94rRdqUtq9lzMqDe08Xm_qpmnhbgc8blva8ZgXKTGWOjqdm8byII/s320/03febsgeorgiafortunabaycsmetz13.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Shirley Metz, Zegrahm Expeditions</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I would like to write another novel, or another book of some kind. One young adult suspense novel published almost 30 years ago does not make me feel like a successful writer. Even if I just write one every 30 or 35 years, I can point out that there’s a pattern emerging.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's Book #1, not One Book</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;">I have always wanted to live by the sea. Almost any sea, anywhere, would do, but if I get to choose, it will be a sea that crashes onto cliffs I can walk to from my house, across my own property. I would stand there and soak up the majesty and wonder of the ocean in all conditions and every kind of weather. Now that is a dream I’ll hang onto until the end of my days.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where my heart is</td></tr>
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Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-19442544468186497872013-03-18T18:03:00.000-07:002013-03-18T18:03:08.783-07:00Yikes! The Guatemala Extension<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>This post is based on a letter that I wrote in February, 2009, to Barbara, the leader of an expedition to Belize and Guatemala. A group of about 75 people, including me, had just enjoyed a week and a half of snorkeling, swimming, and sight-seeing on the cayes of Belize. That trip was over, and just 11 of us were going on the three-day trip “extension” to Guatemala. The expedition leader was not accompanying us. She asked me to write a report to her afterward and tell her how the extension trip had gone. Well ...</i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rural Guatemalan shop</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The extension was, well, quite the experience. Since writing that sentence I have been sitting here for about five minutes wondering where to begin. First and very seriously I would say that the tour company needs to be told to never, ever, EVER send a group off on its own again without someone from the company along to keep order and make decisions. For this particular group, not having an overseer along was a disaster. I would challenge anyone to look through our ship’s passenger manifest and handpick a less likely eleven-some to travel through Guatemala together. On the one hand we had the Odd Couple, as they came to be known, who never ceased whining, complaining, asking for extra stops, objecting to plans -- you name it. At the other end of the spectrum was the Texan, who was normally laid-back and cheerful BUT when crossed (usually by the Odd Couple but not always) became steely, intractable, and as difficult as the OC in his own way. Then there was the Kiwi (from New Zealand). Although she was generally on the right side of things, she often made the situations worse by her blunt and shrill approach to everyone else. Poor Melvin, our hapless guide! That quiet, knowledgeable, sweet-tempered person received the brunt of everyone's displeasure from causes ranging from choice of food (the OC), to attempts to deviate from the printed itinerary to pacify the angry (the Texan), to attempts to stick to the itinerary (an enraged Kiwi, who told him she would send a bad report in about him if he allowed the rest of the group to "hijack" us from our itinerary!). Argh! I did what I could, but since I had no official standing I had to be low-key; not my forte, as you both know by now. I did pull Melvin aside at one point and tell him that this group was an excellent example of how Americans abroad get a bad name, and to please always remember there were some of us working with - not against - him at every turn. And that we would back him in whatever decisions he made - although honestly, making decisions for a group where someone is going to be angry no matter what you decide was not in Melvin's skill set. Even the Mild Couple got into it at one point. I thought the Texan might end up thrashing the Odd Couple. Two people stormed away from the table to their rooms. As my mother would say, Big Fun!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Melvin, our luckless guide</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Okay; enough about that for the moment and a little more about what we actually did. We left you at the ship (thanks for that) and got into the van with Melvin and Eddie, our driver. The Odd Couple informed Melvin before we had even driven through the marina gates that we were supposed to stop at a particular film shop in Belize City to get them another camera card on the way out of town. Fine, except that it was closed. Great distress from the OC. Melvin said we would stop at one in a town further on, which somewhat pacified them, although he was asked *many* times whether he had forgotten and we had passed it yet. When we got to that town, that shop was closed, too. The OC asked if, in order to make it up to them (!), Melvin would take them back to the market we had passed and let them get some fruit. (Your no-fruit lecture was well taken, as you can see, Barbara.) Melvin said okay, but actually stopped at a much closer, well-stocked fruit stand instead. There were protests but we basically shoved them off the van. Melvin went with them. The moment the van doors closed, the Texan turned around and (hear this in his slow Texas drawl) said "Those two are <i>nuts.</i>" Everyone laughed and it appeared we were all united, but that didn't last, unfortunately. Anyway, the OC took twenty minutes minimum at the stand and brought back at least five bags of fruit - and we were about half an hour from the border crossing! It was not declared and apparently not discovered in the van. They ate slurpily most of the ride. I imagine Eddie, the driver, was quietly freaking out.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So, into Guatemala. The road was *very* bumpy all the way to the hotel (about two hours’ drive), which caused quite a bit of complaint from people with back issues, of which, surprise!, we had several. We had understood that the hotel was in a town, but actually it was not within walking distance of anyplace else, which was a bit of a disappointment, even to me I must admit. Getting a feel for the people in a new locale is one of my favorite parts of traveling. But I didn't say anything - somebody had to be the designated "keeps her mouth shut," and I was happy to be that person. We didn't arrive until 3pm and hadn't had lunch. so the hotel people gave us a nice list of choices for a special lunch; of course the OC was not happy with any of them and had many particular requests. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After lunch - I still can't help but laugh, and I'll never think of this phrase the same way again - Melvin offered to take us on a "nature walk" in the jungle across the road from the hotel. Okay, I had to actually stop writing and have a laughing fit. Nature walk! Many started out; three of us finished. It was the most strenuous climb I have ever been on. Even the super-fit were red-faced and dripping with sweat by the end. We went up and up and up a long wooden staircase that was, and I do not exaggerate, little better than a ladder. At the top, gasping, we saw another one ahead of us, and asked how many there would be. “About three” was the vague and somehow ominous answer. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up we go.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every step was slippery.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfY3P0edW_clBCJcVK_EYOxGy4nYCIoaKBaDrd4NyNsZxPTBRJSOHpAzpWz2R08bCKf733_JSchPgD6wJjOFdl0d2f50POfGjF2i7fld2CXDaevDAEzlQUEUaIOaVo4__qKLNo7odAHU/s1600/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfY3P0edW_clBCJcVK_EYOxGy4nYCIoaKBaDrd4NyNsZxPTBRJSOHpAzpWz2R08bCKf733_JSchPgD6wJjOFdl0d2f50POfGjF2i7fld2CXDaevDAEzlQUEUaIOaVo4__qKLNo7odAHU/s320/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+214.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Stop thinking, keep climbing.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In fact there were SEVEN. It was revealed when we reached the top that we had climbed an unexcavated Mayan pyramid. We sat on the top and listened to the howler monkeys calling around us. They sounded like lions roaring. It was incredible. However, that pleasant interlude passed and it was time to ... climb down. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTcvLcMq-HuJIkqW2nCAT7X0RZXVFZGdotjnTwE0M_AXgXpI-Z2w5Pkm-XoG-5tnEPemZYeyTxtX1yHF4FaAn02UAPO5yOEAfLlBBfhDyhUbjgU9-14VaFBjB1Ir8fDKzIXmxMSCMA-BE/s1600/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTcvLcMq-HuJIkqW2nCAT7X0RZXVFZGdotjnTwE0M_AXgXpI-Z2w5Pkm-XoG-5tnEPemZYeyTxtX1yHF4FaAn02UAPO5yOEAfLlBBfhDyhUbjgU9-14VaFBjB1Ir8fDKzIXmxMSCMA-BE/s320/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+217.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melvin wishes he had a different job.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Down, down, down.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Going down the other side was just as steep and even more challenging than climbing up had been. It was also slippery in unexpected places, and I have a priceless photo of a "guard rail" sticking out into the open space over a steep drop. To be honest I eventually started finding it kind of fun, in a "Survival" kind of way, but holy cow! The "nature" part of "nature walk" was great - families of monkeys overhead, parrots and toucans flying past, amazing trees, etc., etc. It's the "walk" part that kills me - just a little stroll up a pyramid and back down, don't you know!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The guardrail, keeping us from a very long steep fall...</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This was the first indication that no one had adequately prepared Melvin for the physical condition of the people he was in charge of. We quickly learned that if he described something as “easy,” it would probably be impossible for some and a bit challenging for the rest of us. The times he described something as “challenging,” we all begged off. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So the three of us who finished the walk went home and collapsed until dinner. That's when Melvin told us the plans for the next day, and all hell broke loose. We were to leave for Tikal at 8:15 and to leave from there between 2-3, with plans to stop by a craft center on the way back. Cries ranging from "I don't want to shop!" and "That's not the WHOLE day!" (the OC) rang out, followed by the Texan, demanding a private car and driver so that he and his wife could stay there all day (at his expense, to be fair, but it was an order, not a request). The Kiwi was livid that people were challenging the set itinerary, and others wanted to go to the craft shop. So there was nasty chaos during which two people stormed off. The end result was that Melvin arranged for two vans to pick us up from Tikal, one at 2-3 and one at 5:30. We split 6 & 5 on who left when. Everyone went to bed fuming, muttering, or in some way unhappy - but all were civil at breakfast and nothing was really unpleasant again (except as regards the OC, of course, whose bizarre requests and whiny fussing continued throughout the trip). </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELkqRu1IV0WLtD7oQ384lDl0DOFdbZRBn9D8kFdh11UqA5WwHpjHE7jU-QLtHSRXvqAdLk42foRJo7fGpQoSKRs2E7E9XTZ-s3_lWEiRYLlYVtUcOALMWAY5LTNilnbZROpq44DacfK0/s1600/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELkqRu1IV0WLtD7oQ384lDl0DOFdbZRBn9D8kFdh11UqA5WwHpjHE7jU-QLtHSRXvqAdLk42foRJo7fGpQoSKRs2E7E9XTZ-s3_lWEiRYLlYVtUcOALMWAY5LTNilnbZROpq44DacfK0/s320/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+237.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first pyramid at Tikal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from Temple IV.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Tikal was stunning. Most of us went up Temple IV and saw the incredible view of jungle canopy stretching as far as the eye can see in all directions, with the tops of other temples sticking out here and there. Breathtaking. Melvin was an excellent guide, we saw a lot of wildlife, from a wide variety of birds to monkeys with babies to coatimundis, my favorites. Melvin had a beautiful lunch brought to us in the old Mayan marketplace, very atmospheric, and everyone was bending over backward to be appreciative to Melvin and nice to each other (for a short time - that sort of thing never lasted long). Then the early group left and had a good time at the craft shop and tea and a pleasant rest afterward. The group who stayed on at Tikal was very happy to have done so, and all was well that evening. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVdxJwrk44EwUHZH8mhF7DHviB8cfvXpNSQUG0tfJzNy0b8_iebThdUKTVBzsd-B5lCDIZdFbJ8IRfRulfhxTiX0zbBMDl5fOGs5CHQDYXiF3N5bz6zSovKlrOTg-c3XBdYkDEAjgABA/s1600/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVdxJwrk44EwUHZH8mhF7DHviB8cfvXpNSQUG0tfJzNy0b8_iebThdUKTVBzsd-B5lCDIZdFbJ8IRfRulfhxTiX0zbBMDl5fOGs5CHQDYXiF3N5bz6zSovKlrOTg-c3XBdYkDEAjgABA/s320/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+260.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild coatimundi strolling past</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oscillated turkeys - as beautiful as peacocks.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">However, it had started raining, and the next day's outing was supposed to be a river trip. It was also getting cool. By morning it was pouring and the river had risen too high for us to be able to take that trip, to everyone's relief (Melvin had described the included hike to a small Mayan site as "a little challenging" -- run away, run away!). So he proposed an alternative activity, a visit to Yaxha, another nearby Mayan site. Or, we could stay at the hotel and relax. After a bit of (civil) discussion, everyone elected to go. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The meaning of "rain forest" became crystal clear to many for the first time that morning. It had poured all night and the roads were full of potholes - and you may recall that they weren't exactly up to standard to start with. I had to remind a number of people that if drivers couldn't manage after one night of rain in this climate, there was no way they would make it through the whole rainy season every year. Anyway, it was exciting but we made it there, stopping for lunch on the way which was *very* pleasant. We got to try to some local specialties such as breadnut soup - very good. Everyone drank alcohol and got mellow and happy - and somewhat warm, which was a good thing in light of what was to follow. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch and drinks in a local restaurant. A last moment of warmth.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We were almost the only people at Yaxha - we saw a total of five other people during our approximately two hours there. And it absolutely poured buckets of rain the entire length of our visit. We got drenched, drenched, DRENCHED. Because this was our last day there was no time for anything to dry afterward, either; I ended up throwing away my sodden tennis shoes and socks when I got home. The site, though, was incredible. I told Melvin how much I loved it and he said it was his favorite of all the Mayan sites. Very little was excavated, and there were so many overgrown temples crowded together that it was like being in a valley full of the most amazing, sharply triangular green hills. It felt much more secretive and private than Tikal. It sounds sort of pretentious to say I liked it better, but I think I really did, overall. The atmosphere was unbeatable. Sadly, I couldn’t take any pictures because it was raining too hard, non-stop. I didn’t dare take my camera out of its waterproof case.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyzJG97eYVMNr8bP_9DiZ03H-lYCfz_g10UCriFA5qrwXRiKtAaMJVWVltMEmnKexUBm6kbIwPO5zpOgXKNWL0fndioJ31D3qIh8C-h5ETbexYD5QPjZJkHXdA4aCOQtwnPacqEBHfSw/s1600/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyzJG97eYVMNr8bP_9DiZ03H-lYCfz_g10UCriFA5qrwXRiKtAaMJVWVltMEmnKexUBm6kbIwPO5zpOgXKNWL0fndioJ31D3qIh8C-h5ETbexYD5QPjZJkHXdA4aCOQtwnPacqEBHfSw/s320/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+298.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Everyone enjoyed Yaxha, in spite of the wet. However, our (excellent) driver, Eddie, couldn't seem to figure out how to turn down the air conditioning whilst maintaining the vital defrost feature, so we got seriously cold on the way back to the hotel. I was *so* cold! The OC complained so loudly and so much ("I didn't come to the tropics to freeze!") that the Texan hurled his cashmere coat at them - which they immediately huddled into without comment. By the time we got back to the hotel I was so stiff from the cold I could hardly get out of the van. I felt much better after a hot shower. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The next morning, we leapt all sparkly-eyed from our beds at 4:30, to be on the road by 5:30. It would have been at least fifteen minutes earlier, but the OC were displeased with the contents of their breakfast-to-go boxes, and new ones had to be prepared. As I commented to the rest of the group on the bus, we might as well end as we started. It had poured again all night, so driving was very tricky - we passed vehicles upside down in the ditches - but Eddie was terrific, and we got to the Radisson in plenty of time to drop off the six people spending the day in Belize City. Everyone parted amicably but privately swearing never to travel together again in some cases, I'm sure. The rest of us were delivered to the airport and walked to our flight areas by Melvin. He was really great. Barbara, if you can arrange for the tour company to send him a Purple Heart, he deserves no less.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And we were off, and that was that, although I'm sure some of the group who spent the day in Belize City with the Texan and the OC could add more. As lively and interesting as the city looked that day, I was so glad I wasn't part of that group!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisu6CMtiwcQi2C6sNQn8fGMWHuVErUMkdjlOMfuNTaEnBpu0C2WNGJeF1l1fglHCStvr5KzMWmnjd8goN1RP3QFgg59twXSzZY7viIYmPNBdIHG5g1AJ8TfK3Wt05uWMFMetDKEz3SV1k/s1600/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisu6CMtiwcQi2C6sNQn8fGMWHuVErUMkdjlOMfuNTaEnBpu0C2WNGJeF1l1fglHCStvr5KzMWmnjd8goN1RP3QFgg59twXSzZY7viIYmPNBdIHG5g1AJ8TfK3Wt05uWMFMetDKEz3SV1k/s320/Belize+and+Guatemala+Jan09+283.jpg" width="230" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Someday, though, I would love to go back.</span></div>
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Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-18456822959385666312013-02-25T09:37:00.000-08:002013-02-25T09:37:48.474-08:00You Really Are More Than the Sum of Your Parts<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“And do you floss regularly?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Once years ago, a different dentist asked me this question and I said “no.” He looked surprised. I added “or do you want me to do what most of your other patients do and say ‘yes’ even though I don’t?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This time it was a dental technician. But I still said “no.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She was ready for that answer. She turned me in my chair toward a small TV screen where I could see the bacteria from my mouth swab, magnified and bustling around, presumably wondering where my mouth had gone. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“There - look at all the bacteria that came out of your mouth. This helps lots of people understand why it’s so important to floss their teeth.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I smiled at her. “But which of those are the bacteria that help me break down the food I eat? The good bacteria? If you can point out which are the bad ones I’m supposed to be flossing away, that would be great.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now there may be very good reasons to floss one’s teeth. But ridding the mouth of bacteria isn’t one of them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Most of us know we have colonies of good bacteria living inside our bodies. I learned in school, even way back in the 1970’s, that without our gut bacteria we would not be able to break down what we eat into fuel our body can use. But there are also ‘bad’ bacteria, the ones antibiotics were created to seek and destroy. Unfortunately, dropping antibiotic bombs into our bodies causes the same sort of collateral damage as dropping bombs onto populated areas during wartime. Antibiotics may wipe out a dangerous infection in our bodies, but we also wipe out a lot of good bacteria at the same time. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But if we take probiotics, even just eat yogurt with live cultures, we are told, we can replace the good bacteria while our antibiotics are wiping out the bad stuff. Job done.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Or so we thought.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Science is now starting to discover that the world of human body bacteria is at least as complex as the world of human beings. And, also like human beings, not all bacteria can be divided into ‘good’ and ‘bad.’ In fact, science is at such an early stage in the understanding of this complex system that one hesitates to use those black and white words in relation to any bacteria, yet.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Enter the human <i>microbiome, </i>defined as ‘the complement of bacterial passengers carried around by every human being’ (<i>The Economist, ‘Sniffing Out Hypertension,’ 2/16/13).</i> </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the New Yorker article “Germs Are Us” (10/22/12), author Michael Specter states:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We inherit every one of our genes, but we leave the womb without a single microbe. As we pass through our mother’s birth canal, we begin to attract entire colonies of bacteria. By the time a child can crawl, he has been blanketed by an enormous, unseen cloud of microorganisms—a hundred trillion or more. They are bacteria, mostly, but also viruses and fungi (including a variety of yeasts), and they come at us from all directions: other people, food, furniture, clothing, cars, buildings, trees, pets, even the air we breathe. They congregate in our digestive systems and our mouths, fill the space between our teeth, cover our skin, and line our throats. We are inhabited by as many as ten thousand bacterial species; these cells outnumber those which we consider our own by ten to one, and weigh, all told, about three pounds—the same as our brain. Together, they are referred to as our microbiome—and they play such a crucial role in our lives that scientists like Blaser have begun to reconsider what it means to be human.</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Martin J. Blaser is the chairman of the Department of Medicine and a professor of microbiology at the New York University School of Medicine. The bacterium he studies is Helicobacter pylori, or H. pylori, which was discovered to cause ulcers and contribute to stomach cancer. A campaign was immediately mounted to eradicate it. But Blaser contends that just because it is capable of doing harm, that does not mean it doesn’t have a vital role to play in healthy bodies. We have learned that removing predators from ecosystems can cause disastrous results for the system as a whole, often in unexpected ways. Could the same be true when we remove potential predators from our internal ecosystems - our microbiomes? Blaser’s research is continuing, but already he has discovered positive roles that H. pylori plays in the human bodies it inhabits. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In fact, studies are linking the destruction of bacteria within our bodies to such varied illnesses and disorders as obesity, Crohn’s disease, and asthma. Bacteria may be an important factor in the regulation of blood pressure (<i>The Economist, ‘Sniffing Out Hypertension,’ 2/16/13). </i>Twin studies in Malawi are producing strong evidence that having the ‘wrong’ gut bacteria can predispose those individuals to malnutrition, even when they consume the same diet as their twins who carry a different bacterial load. (<i>The Economist, ‘Debugging the Problem,’ 2/2-8/12). </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>‘Germs Are Us’ </i>author Specter says about bacteria:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most reside within the gut, but many also occupy our mouths, and one particular bacterium, Streptococcus mutans, has been recognized as the principal cause of tooth decay. When you eat sugar, S. mutans releases acid that corrodes the teeth. Many researchers who study the microbiome now look upon cavities as an infectious disease, and they are testing a mouthwash that kills S. mutans; if it works, dental cavities could vanish.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There are cases where illnesses and infections in one individual have resisted all conventional medical treatments, then have been cured by the transferral of a particular bacterial colony from a healthy individual into the sick one. In one case, described in ‘<i>Germs Are Us</i>,’ a man with a serious chronic infection in one ear cured himself simply by transferring ear wax - and its bacteria - from his healthy ear into the infected one.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So should we all be taking probiotics, maybe all the time? The current scientific thinking is that we still know so little about the bacterial makeup of our bodies - and that makeup varies from individual to individual - that taking a broad-spectrum probiotic may be almost as unwise for some people as taking a broad-spectrum antibiotic. Studies on some widely used probiotics have shown that they can cause or increase some health conditions in some individuals. We don’t know enough yet to identify what is ‘good’ and what is ‘bad.’ And it may turn out that our bacteria, like the people on which they colonize, are often shades of grey.</span></span></div>
Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-65306261093476485472012-08-22T18:20:00.000-07:002012-08-22T18:20:18.458-07:00“Set A Course For Home.”<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When “Star Trek: Voyager” came on television, I watched the first couple of seasons eagerly. But then we moved from Seattle to St. Louis, and somehow in the shuffle I never went back to it. And I never watched “Star Trek: Enterprise” when it aired for four years, either.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But I caught up with “Voyager,” and I’m catching up with “Enterprise.” Shane, Jack, and I watched all seven seasons of “Voyager” on DVD last spring. We all really enjoyed it - with the exception of Shane’s relationship with Tuvok, who he thought was the worst tactical and security officer he had ever seen. We started watching “Enterprise” before we went to the convention, and we’re enjoying it as well. Long live Gene Roddenberry’s vision of the future.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Robert Picardo, the holographic doctor from “Voyager,” came onstage Thursday evening and set the entertainment bar far too high for anyone else to reach for the rest of the weekend. He was very much like the Doctor, by the end of Season 7 - articulate, clever and funny. He answered some audience questions, but turned them into interesting stories and anecdotes. He talked about himself and his career in a very engaging manner. He sang - yes, the Doctor really can sing, if not quite as operatically as he did in a few episodes of “Voyager.” He talked about that - how he had suggested to the writers that it might be fun to show the Doctor listening to opera in the infirmary - an interestingly emotion-laden hobby for a holograph. And the next thing he knew, he was handed a script where he was expected to <i>sing </i>opera. Not what he had intended, at all, but it turned out well in the end.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Robert Picardo wound up his presentation by reciting an excellent poem he had written himself, from the perspectives of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I was very impressed. What a smart and well-rounded entertainer.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was a Voyager cast panel onstage on Saturday. If the Next Generation cast had been wild and funny, the Voyager cast was even more so. The panel consisted of Kate Mulgrew (Captain Janeway), Robert Beltran (Chakotay), Roxanne Dawson (B’Elanna Torres), Tim Russ (Tuvok), Robert Duncan McNeill (Tom Paris), and Garrett Wang (Harry Kim). They all seemed to enjoy each other’s company tremendously. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When it came time for questions and answers from the audience, the first question was “Excuse me, but wasn’t there a bald man on your show?” It was Robert Picardo! He came up onstage and joined the cast for the rest of the presentation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kate Mulgrew appeared as part of the Four Captains presentation on Sunday. She was energetic, cheerful, and very kind to everyone who asked questions (as well as to Avery Brooks, as mentioned in an earlier blog entry). She said many things of a motivational nature, the most memorable of which was “If you aren’t living your life, then shame on you!” She also did a hilarious impression of what an eleven-year-old girl would be like as captain of Voyager - formidable! The crowd really appreciated her. I was impressed with her, too.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After the Avery Brooks concert chronicled in my previous blog entry, a midnight ‘dessert party’ was held across the hall from the main theater. Tim Russ and his band performed for an hour or so at that event. They were terrific! They were so good, in fact, that I looked up Tim Russ on my phone and discovered that he was a musician first and an actor second. He played guitar and sang, with a backup band. They played rock music. It really made me want to get up and dance - they should have performed where there was a dance floor, some people were dancing by their tables. They got a long ovation when they finished, and many people, including Jack, bought copies of the CD they had with them. We stopped by to tell Tim how much we had enjoyed the concert. He was a bit out of breath from performing, excited and happy and talkative. It was a lot of fun.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On Friday’s main stage, Garrett Wang (Harry Kim) performed a play with Dominic Keating and Connor Trinneer -- Malcolm and Trip from “Enterprise.” The name of the play was “Art,” and it was written in 1994 by by French playwright Yasmina Reza. It tells the story of three friends in Paris whose friendship is threatened when one of them buys a very expensive painting that is nothing but a white canvas with a few grey lines on it. It is described as a comedy, and it had a lot of funny moments, but it was dramatic and thoughtful, too. It had nothing to do with Star Trek, science fiction, or any other theme related to the convention (like the Shakespeare presentation). But we all really enjoyed it, and the three actors did an excellent job with it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Connor and Dominic appeared onstage together another time, to talk about their roles in “Enterprise” and answer questions from the audience. They were very funny and clearly good friends. Connor, who has no southern accent whatsoever, was asked about the southern accent of his character, Trip. He said that when he was hired to play Trip, he had recently performed in a play where he had adopted an Oklahoma accent, so he kept that same accent for Trip. Then one day, well into the series, he was handed a script that mentioned that Trip was from Clearwater, Florida. He went to the writers and argued that Trip couldn’t be from Florida, he had an Oklahoma accent. They said it wouldn’t matter, no one would notice; he argued that it certainly would matter to viewers from Oklahoma and Florida! But nothing was changed. He added that some years later, he met a family of fans who actually hailed from Clearwater, Florida, and they complimented him on how well he did their accent. Go figure.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Scott Bakula appeared on Sunday, as part of the Four Captains On Stage. He opened by jumping off the stage and running down an aisle to the back of the huge theater, shouting “hey! I’m at the back!,” and running up another aisle, back onto the stage. It was quite funny, and certainly got everyone’s attention. He then immediately started to take questions. The first one was from a little boy who started out, “My mom is kind of too shy to come up and ask you this -” which got lots of laughs and a round of applause from the audience. The question was, the mother had seen him perform in a musical (I can’t remember which one, something set in the west), and would he sing something from it? Instantly Scott burst into song, though he only made it through a few lines before stopping and saying “never sing right after running all the way around the theater.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was the end of the Star Trek convention. Shane had signed up for an autograph with Scott. So had hundreds of other people. Shane had to stand in line so long that Paul, Jack, and I had to leave him there so we didn’t miss our next event (The Blue Man Group, at the Venetian, which Shane had seen before). When we met up again later that evening, Shane told us that by the time he got close enough to see Scott signing autographs, he saw that Scott was just signing them as fast as they were handed to him, not even looking up at the people in front of him. When Shane reached him, while Scott was signing a picture, Shane said “So, are you still a Cardinals fan?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Scott instantly looked up. “Oh yes. BIG time.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hadn’t even been aware that Scott was from St. Louis. Well done, Shane!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And that is all I have to say about the Star Trek convention. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Live long, and prosper.</span></span></div>
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Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-55268825640347470532012-08-18T23:38:00.000-07:002012-08-18T23:38:24.280-07:00All Right Niners, Let's Hear Some Chatter!<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A few seasons into “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” a miracle happened. After two decades of Star Trek draught, suddenly a second series appeared on television, running concurrently with TNG. For me, Deep Space Nine is the jewel in the crown of Star Trek. I love every part of that space station, from Quark’s to Vic Fontaine’s. I love all the main characters, and all the amazing supporting characters. The seasons that chronicled the Dominion War are a masterpiece of edge-of-your-seat storytelling. And while I told George Takei that Sulu was my captain, I lied; my Captain is and will always be Benjamin Sisko.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We had some wonderful encounters with Deep Space Nine actors at the Star Trek convention.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Two actors who obviously became and remain good friends were Casey Biggs (Damar) and Jeffrey Combs (Brunt, and Weyoun). The two appeared as part of a three-person panel in the secondary auditorium, and then again on the main stage together, and a third time with Armin Shimmerman (Quark) on the main stage doing a Shakespeare presentation. I really enjoyed that. All three actors delivered some of their favorite soliloquies from Shakespeare plays; the balcony scene from “Romeo and Juliet” was acted out by Casey Biggs (Romeo) and Jeffrey Combs as Juliet, in costume; very funny, but it was also pointed out to the audience that in Shakespeare’s day all parts were played by men. The three actors ended with a very clever, rapid-fire list of many of the expressions we use every day that originated in Shakespeare plays. Smart and great fun.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Armin Shimmerman (Quark), Jeffrey Combs (Brunt/Weyoun), and Casey Biggs (Damar) do Shakespeare</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Andrew Robinson (Garek) appeared only as part of a large group of ‘minor characters’ on the main stage, each of whom spoke a bit about their role in the Star Trek universe and then took questions from the audience. With perhaps two exceptions, every question was for Andrew Robinson. He really should have appeared onstage by himself; I think the convention organizers underestimated his character’s popularity with the fans. Garek was such a complicated and fascinating character. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I remember that Andrew Robinson said he quit acting for awhile, after appearing on two episodes of “The A-Team!” Not the best experience, I guess. Pity the fool.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Friday morning we were walking through the vendors’ hall and came to a long table where Chase Masterson (Leeta), Max Grodenchik (Rom), Aron Eisenberg (Nog), and Armin Shimmerman (Quark) were signing autographs. They were there off and on throughout the rest of the convention. We had the chance to talk to each one of them. Shane, Jack, and I also took this opportunity to start collecting the signatures of Niners team players. In a DS9 episode called “Take Me Out to the Holosuite,” Captain Sisko organizes some of the crew of DS9 into a baseball team, in order to play a rival team of Vulcans. I had ordered Niners baseball caps for Shane, Jack, and myself for Christmas last year, and we had brought them to the convention with us to see how many cast members who played on the Niners we could get to autograph them. When Chase Masterson autographed Shane’s cap, he asked her to ‘add a little kiss’ to it. He meant for her to draw an ‘x’ beside her name. Instead, she kissed the cap! From that point on it was easy to tell which one was Shane’s - his had a lipstick kiss on it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Max Grodenchik became fascinated with the mechanics of getting a good signature onto the caps. He signed mine first, with it sitting on the table, but was not happy with that, so he had Shane and Jack wear their caps and kneel down so he could sign them while they were on their heads. It was so funny - it seemed like something Rom might have done! Max was soft-spoken and nice. Armin Shimmerman was also very nice, signing our caps and making conversation. He talked to me long enough that I walked away at the end only to realize that I had forgotten to pay the autograph fee so I went back. I handed him the money and said “sorry, I forgot to pay,” and he said “And I forgot to ask you to ... shows what kind of Ferengi I am!”</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max Grodenchik signs Shane's Niners cap</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Aron Eisenberg was really lovely. He asked all of our names, shook hands, signed our caps, apologized for asking a fee for the autographs and explained that he was required to do so by the convention (he asked less than anyone else), and offered each of us a postcard with a beautiful photograph of a tree and fence that he had taken himself, also autographed, at no charge. Later Shane and I had a photo taken with the three “Ferengis,” and as we walked up to them, Aron greeted me by name. On Sunday I went by his table again and he said “Hi, Dixie!” as I passed by. Very impressive - he must have met thousands of fans that weekend.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5E-ha5u1rGtseZJg_OSGYdncSyZ6NcUZc-JGnay6c9XGFhZveMb_RbOyU7adK1Vuf9ZvnJiUq0HQA6hFAyOjc92pTgMmSOqFJK7EhdrXIFIt2SzkScQSEV-eYCBIU5GzWjYXR9rQZhU/s1600/Ferengi+trio+with+Dixie+and+Shane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5E-ha5u1rGtseZJg_OSGYdncSyZ6NcUZc-JGnay6c9XGFhZveMb_RbOyU7adK1Vuf9ZvnJiUq0HQA6hFAyOjc92pTgMmSOqFJK7EhdrXIFIt2SzkScQSEV-eYCBIU5GzWjYXR9rQZhU/s400/Ferengi+trio+with+Dixie+and+Shane.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max Grodenchik (Rom), Shane, Dixie, Armin Shimmerman (Quark), and Aron Eisenberg (Nog)</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Max, Armin, and Aron appeared onstage together to tell stories about acting in “Deep Space Nine” and to answer questions from the audience. It was really nice to see how much they obviously enjoyed each other’s company.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Shane had a photo op with Colm Meany (Chief O’Brien). He reported that there was a huge line; I wasn’t surprised, as Colm has had an impressive film career as well as being on both Next Generation and Deep Space Nine. Shane, Jack, and I also got his autograph for our Niners caps; another huge line. As Colm was signing Shane’s cap Shane cheerfully told him “You’re almost done!” (meaning the long line, which disappeared out of Colm’s sight). Colm said “Really?” and Shane said, “No.” They both laughed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On Friday night the four of us went to a party at the Voodoo Lounge, on the rooftop of the Rio. There was a buffet dinner and a bar. But there was no place to eat. The convention planners had not arranged for enough table space for everyone, so we ended up finding chairs in a corner and eating off our laps. Afterward we went upstairs and out onto the rooftop. It was about 100 degrees, even after dark, but there was a good breeze and a great view of the Las Vegas strip.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Enterprise, in ice - with dripping nacelles</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Las Vegas strip from the rooftop</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We went back inside for drinks and entertainment. Chase Masterson (Leeta) sang several standards first. She looked great and definitely got an A for enthusiasm and effort, but her singing was a C at best. But of course the room was full of Star Trek fans so it didn’t matter much. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The headline act came on afterward: JG Hertzler and Robert O’Reilly, aka the Klingons Martok and Gowron. They were backed by a good band, played and sang a good range of rocking music, and best of all, performed with guitars made to look like bat’leths. At one point during the concert, the band played while Hertzler and O’Reilly came through the audience dancing with a few lucky women, including me, hooray! It was a very strange feeling, thinking, I’m dancing with Gowron, Chancellor of the Klingon High Council. What fun. At the end of the evening they and the band autographed the guitars and auctioned them off for the charity Wounded Warriors. Egged on by Shane and Paul, I bid on one and won it. I wondered if I would regret it the next morning, but a week later, I am still thrilled with it. Who else do I know with a bat’leth guitar?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hertzler and O’Reilly appeared together onstage the next day. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JG Hertzler (Martok) and Robert O'Reilly (Gowron)</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cirroc Lofton, who played young Jake Sisko, made a surprise appearance in the vendors’ hall Sunday afternoon to sign autographs. We were thrilled, since he was a Niner! I was alone when I saw him in the hall but I had all three hats with me, so I went over and got into the short line. Shane joined me just as it was my turn to talk to Cirroc. He was friendly and talkative. Shane asked him if he still sees Avery Brooks (who played his father on DS9). He said “all the time.” In fact, he told us, the reason he had rescheduled his photo op session from earlier that morning to late afternoon, was that Colm Meany had taken him and Avery out on the town the night before. “Never drink with an Irishman.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Words of wisdom.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cirroc Lofton (Jake) presents a poster to Avery Brooks (Captain Sisko)</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finally, Avery Brooks - Captain Sisko. The first we were going to see of him was Saturday night, at 10:30 pm, when we had tickets to a special performance he was giving. Shane wasn’t feeling well so he skipped it, but the boys and I went. The doors were supposed to open at 10 pm but there was a 40-minute delay before we were allowed to take our seats. There was a piano onstage. Avery came out, to great applause, and sat down to play the piano. What followed was increasingly disturbing. He played a long, rambling piece that I guess would be classed as jazz of some kind, but it was excruciatingly slow. As soon as it ended, he walked to the microphone and talked about how he was going to share what was in his heart with the audience. He then called a pianist onstage. That young man played a rather interesting piece (he attached clothespins inside the piano to create a very different sound). Avery then asked him to talk to us about his work, which he did, but he appeared to be rather uncertain about what Avery wanted. The rest of the hour was spent mostly with the young man playing piano while Avery either walked around onstage, often at the back where he could hardly be seen, or ‘sang’ along with the music - or appeared to talk quietly to the piano, or, twice, shouted “Don’t sing!” at the pianist. Avery played one more very slow piece himself, alternating a few bars with a few words of song - he didn’t appear to be able to play and sing at the same time. Audience members trickled, then streamed, out. Those who remained applauded politely and even gave Avery a standing ovation at the end. But the impression I got was that we were watching a man who was seriously unstable. Partway through the performance, Paul quietly showed me some Google references on his phone to the effect that Avery Brooks had been booked on a DUI in January, as well as various YouTube video titles such as “Avery Brooks has lost his mind.” Overall, the whole experience made me sad, and very worried about what is going on with Avery Brooks.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On Sunday, Avery appeared as one of the Four Captains On Stage. The other three took questions from the audience; Avery did not. He did give a brief talk to the audience, and he did answer some questions asked of all four captains by the emcee of the event. But there were other questions he did not answer, awkward silences often filled by Kate Mulgrew in what appeared to be acts of kindness. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jack, Shane and I had signed up for autographs with Avery Brooks so he could sign our Niners caps. There were long waits for all four captains, as you can imagine. But the other three signed over 200 autographs while Avery was still working on his first 50. He seemed to be moving in slow motion. After he signed my cap, I shook hands with him and said “please take care of yourself.” He was looking me in the eyes, shaking my hand slowly, and nodded slightly. Shane was next in line and, not having heard what I had said, also said “Take care of yourself, sir” while shaking Avery’s hand. Avery’s grip suddenly tightened; he looked Shane in the eyes and said “You too, baby.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Next: Voyager and Enterprise</i></span></div>
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Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-13541985789012382822012-08-18T21:00:00.000-07:002012-08-18T21:00:08.692-07:00Where No One Has Gone Before<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I remember so well sitting down to watch the first episode of “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” full of excitement, trepidation, and hope. It was unbelievable that there were going to be new transmissions from Gene Roddenberry’s universe after so many years of radio silence. But would the new episodes be good? Would this show last?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The first episode was not great, but it was good enough. The first season was not great, but it had transcendent moments and then, early in the second season, came “Measure of a Man.” That was the first episode that gave me chills. There were to be many more. The series soared upward from that point on, becoming everything I had ever hoped a new “Star Trek” series could be and more. The main characters came alive. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The prospect of meeting some of the actors who had created those characters filled me with pleasure.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">John de Lancie played “Q,” creating a recurring guest character so singular and popular that Q popped up again in “Deep Space Nine” and “Voyager” episodes. John appeared onstage with his wife, who had a guest role in an episode of “The Next Generation.” They talked about raising two sons while living the actors’ life, answered some questions, appeared articulate and intelligent. Shane and Jack had a photo op with John, and I got his autograph later, somewhat by accident. In the vendors’ room there was a long table where most of the cast of “The Next Generation” sat for a short time each day signing autographs. I only wanted Brent Spiner’s, but I had to walk by John de Lancie on my way to Brent, and I felt uncomfortable not asking for his, too! He was somewhat brisk but nice. He asked where I was from, and the look in his eyes when I said “Saint Louis” made me laugh.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was a reason why I wanted to talk to Brent Spiner. I signed up for his autograph because that was the only way to get a moment of his time. I rehearsed and rehearsed what I wanted to say, because it was emotional for me and, like all the women in my family, I bear the curse of teariness when things get emotional. But the moment came, I stood in front of him, he smiled, and I said “I have been waiting almost twenty years to thank you for something kind that you did.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He said “wait!” and turned to the rest of the cast at the table and said “did you hear that? I did something kind!” We all laughed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I said, “Twenty years ago my sister’s life was very hard. She suffered a great deal, and eventually the only joyful moments in her life came from your character, Data, on Star Trek. I was so grateful for the happy moments your character gave her, that I wrote to tell you about it and to thank you. I didn’t ask you for anything, but you sent an autographed picture to her. It said “To Gayle: All things are possible.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She only lived about another year but she treasured that picture until the day she died. It was so kind of you to send it. Thank you.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And of course at that point I got teary.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Brent was quiet and thoughtful. I said through my tears, “I’m so sorry! I spent the whole morning rehearsing this in my head so I wouldn’t get weepy, and here I am weepy anyway.” We laughed and he said something along the lines of ‘no, no, it’s okay’ and then “And what is your name?” I told him, he thought a moment more, and then he autographed a picture for me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Later I met him for a photo op. There was only a brief moment but we exchanged a few words, he was again very kind. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I left Brent and walked down the table to leave the autograph area, still teary, I passed Marina Sirtis, who played Counselor Troi on “The Next Generation.” I was going to walk past, but she said “Oh! Did you go to the Olympics?” I was wearing a London Olympics T-shirt, and Marina, I had read, was a London girl.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told her no, but that I had been in London while they were happening, and that the atmosphere had been wonderful.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She said she wished she had been there, that she’s from the Tottenham area of London and misses the UK. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She asked what my name was, and we had a nice chat, during which it dawned on me that she had initiated the conversation to help me recover from the emotional interaction with Brent Spiner. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s lovely to meet people whose characters you have admired on TV, and find that they are as nice in real life as you always hoped they would be.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On Saturday, there was a “Next Generation” panel discussion in the big theater. All the main characters from the cast were there except for Sir Patrick Stewart, Captain Picard, who was not able to be at the convention. It was so much fun to hear the actors talk about the great time they had on the set of the show. They were all hilariously funny and clearly all good friends. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jonathan Frakes (Riker), Brent Spiner (Data), Colm Meany (O'Brien), and Gates McFadden (Dr. Crusher)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colm Meany, Gates McFadden, Marina Sirtis (Troi), Levar Burton (Geordi), and Michael Dorn (Worf)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Next Generation cast</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Next ... Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</i></span></span></div>
Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-2953548098249402292012-08-17T23:55:00.000-07:002012-08-17T23:55:10.971-07:00Scotty...Beam Me Up.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">THE ORIGINAL SERIES</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have a very early memory of “Star Trek” when it first aired in the mid-1960’s. I would have been seven or eight years old. It’s a hazy memory of watching a terrifying red cloud menace Captain Kirk on a planet’s surface. Many years later, when the episodes came on TV in syndication, I watched for that scene for years, to the point where I wondered if I had imagined it. But finally an episode called “Obsession” came on, and there it was. I think the channel I was watching had only had the rights to Seasons 1 and 3 for awhile, because this was one of many Season 2 episodes I hadn’t seen. I didn’t find it quite as terrifying as an adult, but I could see how it had been scary to younger me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I loved the original series for a long time. Almost 50 years later (can that be possible?!), many of the episodes look cheesy and corny. The overacting is laughable, even iconic now, for Shatner’s part. The stories are sometimes goofy. And yet, and yet. This was an amazing, groundbreaking show for its time. Gene Roddenberry had the awesome idea of addressing social issues that could not yet be openly spoken about through science fiction stories. Quite a few of the stories still move me. Others make me laugh, sometimes because they meant to. Although the later “Treks” have far surpassed the first in almost every way, original Star Trek will always have a place in my heart.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nichelle Nichols, who played Lieutenant Uhura, was the first original series star to take the stage at the convention. She is still a petite, slender lady, but she is clearly aging. Her hair is grey, and her memory had to be jogged frequently by her interviewer. She told a few stories and talked about her charitable work. (I was impressed by how many of the actors are involved with, and promoted, a wide range of charitable organizations.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Paul cracked the whip and made me get up early Friday morning to see Grace Lee Whitney onstage. Grace played the sexy, checkerboard-haired Yeoman Rand in the first season of the original series. Captain Kirk’s onboard love interest. That character vanished after the first season, for reasons undisclosed at the time. Rumors swirled, and it was interesting to hear the story from Grace herself. According to her, she was sexually assaulted by an unnamed man related to the show, and found herself without a job the next day. The humiliation and financial loss caused her to spiral into years of drug and alcohol addiction. She proudly announced onstage that she has now been clean and sober for 31 years. Grace is 82, the oldest living member of the original series cast - she has six months on William Shatner. Like Shatner, she certainly doesn’t look her age. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">George Takei and Walter Koenig (Sulu and Chekhov) came onstage together. They are clearly old friends, and it was a pleasure hearing them talk and joke together. Walter is currently writing a series of graphic novels, available for pre-order on amazon.com. George will soon appear in a play near to his heart, “Allegiance,” about Japanese-Americans in internment camps during WWII. George spent time in such a camp himself as a child. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> have followed George on Facebook for quite a long time now. He is a smart, funny man. I was excited to have the opportunity to get my picture taken with him. When I walked in for the photo op I was wearing a T-shirt that said “Who’s Your Captain?” George saw it and said “So who IS your captain?” I said “You, of course!” (Sulu became a Captain in one of the Star Trek feature films.) He laughed, and, as you can see, pointed at the question on my shirt in our photo. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jack got George’s autograph, and he reported the following conversation:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">George: Are you enjoying the convention?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jack: Yes. It’s my first one.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">George: Oh myyyyyy!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">George: Where are you from?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jack: St. Louis.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">George: Well then, you’ve been on quite a <i>trek </i>yourself!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">William Shatner, Captain Kirk, came onstage on the last day of the convention as part of “The Four Captains Live On Stage!” He talked a little bit, answered a few questions, then took part in the four captains’ panel. It’s clear that the love of his life is his horses. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I had signed up for an autograph with William Shatner for one reason: because Paul had given me, some time ago, a little book called “Captain Kirk’s Guide to Women,” and we all thought it would be great to get William Shatner to sign it. So I stood in a very long line (Shane stood in it for me for awhile) and got that (quite illegible) signature. I was told that Shatner signed 800 autographs in one hour’s time. That breaks down to one every four seconds, I believe. So there was no conversation. He signed, I said “thanks,” he smiled. That’s ok. <i>He’s</i> not my Captain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To be continued ... coming up, The Next Generation.</span></i></span></div>
Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-64081121477194562162012-08-17T14:13:00.000-07:002012-08-17T14:14:58.214-07:00Star Trekking, Across the Universe<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">On August 9-12, I attended a Star Trek convention in Las Vegas with Shane, Paul, and Jack. I had been to two Star Trek conventions before, years ago, but they were one-day affairs with a couple of celebrity speakers. This was a four-day convention boasting over 70 celebrity guests, with an expected attendance of at least 3000 people. It was an amazing experience, especially for a lifelong Star Trek fan. (I have to say that Shane, new to Star Trek in the last year or two, found it equally amazing - maybe not in the same way, however...)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have a lot of pictures and highlights to share, more than a reasonable amount for one blog entry. So this is going to be an overview of the entire convention, suitable for both Trekkies and casual observers. The entries that follow will focus on specific celebrity guests and our experiences related to them (when there are any). I will assume that anyone who reads beyond this first entry has some familiarity with Star Trek actors and characters (or doesn’t care), so no explanations of who these people are will be forthcoming. If you don’t know your Star Trek characters, well ... get thee to thy television! Or to Memory Alpha, the Star Trek Wikipedia.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The convention was held at the Rio Hotel and Casino. As many of you know, Las Vegas casino hotels are pretty surreal environments at the best of times. When you add in a Star Trek convention on the premises, you can only imagine the unreality level. I have to say one of my favorite things about the weekend was seeing people in Star Trek uniforms going about their daily business in the casino; sitting at the bar or at slot machines, having their shoes shined, lining up for drinks at Starbucks, etc. If only life could be this way everywhere, all the time.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We checked in and got our badges and conference guides on Wednesday evening, after which we were allowed an early look into the massive vendors’ hall. This room was one of the focal points of the convention, filled with booths hawking every imaginable type of Star Trek merchandise, as well as fine art booths selling autographed photos (of a wide variety of celebrities, not just from Star Trek), and lots of meet-and-greet autograph booths. Some of these were manned the entire weekend, usually by non-Star Trek celebrities who had starred in other science fiction TV shows or movies (such as Richard Hatch from the original “Battlestar Galactica”), or by minor Star Trek ‘celebrities’ who had often played one or two guest parts in the original series and were now unrecognizable without the big posters of which characters they had played (especially if they played heavily costumed characters such as the Gorn from the original series episode “The Arena”). Other booths were occupied by A- or B-list Star Trek celebrities at specific times. Some were there most of the weekend and were easily accessible, such as Chase Masterson (“Leeta”) and all three Ferengi regulars from Deep Space Nine. Others, such as the entire main cast of Next Generation minus Captain Picard, were there only a few times, and there were long lines to meet them and get autographs. Many of the A-listers, however, were never in the vendors’ hall. To get their autograph or a photo with them, one had to buy tickets and go to a particular small room at a particular time. We did a little bit of everything.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I love this picture of a fan in a Gorn costume, in line to meet the actor who played the Gorn in "Arena."</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We had the pleasure of a nice conversation with Richard Kiel on Wednesday evening. He has been in a wide range of TV and movies, from playing “Jaws” in two James Bond films to “Happy Gilmore” more recently. I remembered him from his guest roles in two episodes of “ The Monkees,” as the alien visitor to earth in one of my favorite episodes of “Twilight Zone” called “To Serve Man,” and from the MST3K version of an old science fiction film wonderfully titled “Eegah.” He was delightful, as you can see in this picture.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We were in and out of the vendors’ hall all weekend. You never knew who you might see there, or what interesting new items might have gone up for sale. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8y7Of6VpJimB7J-yfduJKUFvkr1y-rQVGIvu90SDIDD-lkgYONBo7VzwombnpToznr0Ke8bxz9XUMj1DLcH71rh0ssI0VtBpjl7bTI8dATrGjyvofKieERsJnlPvmNGtVtJcpLMf4dM/s1600/IMG_2452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8y7Of6VpJimB7J-yfduJKUFvkr1y-rQVGIvu90SDIDD-lkgYONBo7VzwombnpToznr0Ke8bxz9XUMj1DLcH71rh0ssI0VtBpjl7bTI8dATrGjyvofKieERsJnlPvmNGtVtJcpLMf4dM/s320/IMG_2452.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Thursday morning the convention began. Throughout the next four days there were events running nonstop from about 9am until about 6pm, sometimes later, on two different stages. On the main stage there were interviews with the biggest Star Trek celebrities, plays, panels, everything they thought most people would be interested in, because that room seated thousands. The second, smaller auditorium hosted lesser celebrities, films, auctions, quizzes, etc. </span></div>
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The first major celebrity guest was Ben Vereen. I was thrilled to see him, I have been a fan of his for many years, and he has had such a varied and interesting career. He was at the convention because he guest-starred as Geordi’s father in an episode of Next Generation. There was a nice handful of multi-faceted stars like this at the convention, people who had a career beyond their work in Star Trek. I had a fun conversation in a lunch line with Richard Herd. He had a small recurring part in Voyager as Admiral Paris, but I recognized him from his much larger body of TV and movie work.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Throughout the four days of the convention we heard lots of interesting presentations, met a number of Star Trek celebrities in photo ops and autograph sessions, heard the song “Star Trekking Across the Universe” about sixty times (it’s funny - once, maybe even several times - but it was played in between sessions so many times that we all got heartily sick of hearing it). We attended several concerts given by Star Trek celebrities, saw people in jaw-dropping costumes, played Resistance is Futile Bingo (Jack and I won the last game, but tied with two other winners and lost in the run-off), and in general had a wonderful time.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If you want to see and hear more, read on.</span></div>
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Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-24480548195559628542012-04-30T13:24:00.000-07:002013-12-17T22:38:26.857-08:00The Hardest Decision<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sienna kitten</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I first saw a picture of a Somali cat perhaps thirty years ago. I thought they were the most beautiful cats I had ever seen, and I hoped to have one someday. Now I do. Her name is Sienna. She is a ruddy Somali, a longhaired cousin to Abyssinians. Somali breeders are few and far between. I got Sienna from a breeder in Detroit. When I arrived at airport cargo to pick her up, I could hear her before I saw her. Oh she was annoyed. She was about the size of a guinea pig, but she wanted OUT of that crate. I fell in love with her instantly.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to catch the soccer ball</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigxuIvhcrIu71MjM0DAd-6xanNcHECYAOP1U6JMjouO4_ZpdXCHVX6cnwbG0V22iTHrF_PicNZ4tc1yegefiwMfE943ZiwpdJTBhlEz2c33Kj9PeoaQFUhJK1LMcj8qnpJ3ldfQ6zCes/s1600/Sienna+drinks+from+a+straw.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigxuIvhcrIu71MjM0DAd-6xanNcHECYAOP1U6JMjouO4_ZpdXCHVX6cnwbG0V22iTHrF_PicNZ4tc1yegefiwMfE943ZiwpdJTBhlEz2c33Kj9PeoaQFUhJK1LMcj8qnpJ3ldfQ6zCes/s200/Sienna+drinks+from+a+straw.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chewing my straw</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Sienna is three years old now. She has indeed grown into the most beautiful cat I have ever seen. She has funny habits; she loves to unroll (and chew) toilet paper, actually to chew any kind of paper she can find. I often discover “hole-punched” papers that she has bitten into. She loves to chew hair, too. At least once almost every day she finds me sitting in the big overstuffed chair-and-a-half in the living room ... she climbs onto my chest and snuggles in, purring and kneading me with her paws, all the while inching upward gradually until she can also chew on the ends of my hair. This appears to bring her supreme pleasure.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Two years ago when we got our Abyssinian kitten, Hobnob, I made elaborate arrangements to keep the two cats separate so they could accustom themselves to each other’s scent gradually. My concerns were groundless. The first time Sienna approached the door Hobnob was behind, she began to chirrup like a queen with kittens. I let her slip inside, and she immediately took over where his own mother had left off, grooming him and keeping him company. When Ezri the Bengal kitten joined the family last year, she received mothering from Sienna as well.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sienna with medicine port</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last September, Shane and I came home from a week’s vacation to find Sienna startlingly, scarily thin. Her red blood cell count was down to six, almost impossibly far below a normal of low thirties to forties. Her rare blood type meant that we almost lost her there and then. But it turned out that Hobnob shared that rare type, and was able to donate some of his blood for a transfusion. The Somali-Abyssinian cousinship saved Sienna’s life. She spent over two months in a large cage so that she couldn’t accidentally pull out the port that had been installed so that I could give her twice-daily medication through it. Throughout all of this she looked and acted virtually normal - perhaps a little quieter than usual but that was the only difference I could see.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In December, looking and acting normal again</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In December she came off medications and seemed fine. But by January she felt thin to me again. Her red blood cell count had dropped from its high in the thirties back down to nine. Further testing showed that she has a condition called “osmotic fragility.” Basically, her red blood cells are abnormally formed, making them appear foreign and hostile to her white blood cells, which attack and kill them. This is not a curable condition. Sienna and I travel to the vet’s office six days a week for her to get a steroid shot. I could give them to her here, myself, but there is another complication, not a surprising one really. Sienna now avoids me at almost every opportunity. She knows that my walking toward her could end in her being put into her travel crate and taken to the vet for a shot, so as soon as she sees me, she shoots under the bed or down the stairs, as far from me as she can get. Sadly, her limited understanding doesn’t allow her to realize that she is safe once we’ve been to the vet’s office and come home again; she still runs and hides from me, all day long. The only time she feels that I am safe to approach is when I am sitting in the chair in the living room. She will still come and climb on my lap occasionally then.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So, what to do. She looks and acts healthy and normal. She chases and plays with the other cats, avidly watches birds at the window bird feeder, eats with gusto. But she no longer feels safe in her own home. How long should I keep giving her daily shots? Eventually she will develop diabetes or other complications from the steroid drugs. In the meanwhile, though, there is the stressful hunt-chase-capture ordeal involved with getting her daily shot. I could give the shots to her here but I honestly don’t think that would reduce her stress; she is actually rather relaxed at the vet’s office, accepting treats and purring. It’s the hunt-chase-capture that frightens her, and that would have to happen wherever she got the shot. As terrible as it feels to even think about such things, there is also the cost to consider. I am paying $18 per day, six days a week, for her shot visits, plus the cost of a monthly (or thereabouts) red blood cell count check. If the end result of that, after three months or six months or a year, was going to be a healthy cat, it would be worth it, no question. But the sad truth is that this is not going to end well for Sienna, no matter how much money I spend. If I stop the shots she will get increasingly more anemic until she dies. If I continue them, eventually the steroid overload will kill her.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She’s so beautiful and sweet, and she looks so well. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But just now I turned and glanced at her, lying on the cat climber watching birds out the window, and when she saw me looking, she jumped down and darted under the bed.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glamour girl under the pool table lights</td></tr>
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<i>Update February 15, 2013. I took Sienna off all medication in May, 2012. Her veterinarian thought she might last two weeks to a month. She got thinner and weaker ... but then starting putting weight back on and re-gaining strength. Amazingly, she is still with us, almost a year later. She has periods when she seems frail, but then she gains weight back again. Her spirits are good and she is playful and active. We don't understand it but we feel so lucky. Who knows how long it will last ... Meanwhile we appreciate every day with her.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGtWPSBnXYdgg-Rt20MOu5BUW-guPCDczl6ROOXJqXdDVRV67gmsui0RwbJy7-RF5Eozfj7PnIR2WCksP7Ia55TWgyA3_USXWR1497NJUhDjhpgDk2owze47_GUScP4-AszEMkfKQXdc/s1600/Sienna__1360961045_99.5.237.211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGtWPSBnXYdgg-Rt20MOu5BUW-guPCDczl6ROOXJqXdDVRV67gmsui0RwbJy7-RF5Eozfj7PnIR2WCksP7Ia55TWgyA3_USXWR1497NJUhDjhpgDk2owze47_GUScP4-AszEMkfKQXdc/s320/Sienna__1360961045_99.5.237.211.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Update December 17, 2013. Sienna is gone. During her last seven or eight months she got steroid shots at the vet's office once a month, and did very well. But after her December shot, she started going quickly downhill. She became very thin and frail, however stayed lively, cheerful, and active until just a few days before she died, when she began to spend most of her time sleeping. She spent her last evening purring quietly on my lap while we watched a Christmas movie under the lights of the Christmas tree. The next morning she died under the guest room bed. I brought the dogs in to see her body. They sniffed her, and were very quiet and subdued. Then I took them out of the room and brought the other cats in. They spent a long time examining her body. Then Hobnob, who Sienna had raised since he arrived here as a kitten, began to walk around the room, making the little 'chirrup' call that Sienna had used with him when he was a kitten. I have never heard Hobnob call this way before. Afterward, he sat with her body and looked at her for a long time.</i><br />
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<i>We had her a year and a half longer than we expected to. We are so grateful. </i><br />
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Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-56973880654982975032012-04-27T13:02:00.000-07:002012-04-27T13:02:28.778-07:00Children Around the World - a Picture Gallery<div style="text-align: center;">
Here are some photos I have taken of children during my travels around the world - and one at home.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgee13kDzIsNg5xnBUzmZtFynaqNKp0ba3gM4B8eoLNnYbf5hgrfoDCyExVrrBO-HXzD5JUZfHogAz1h69qfbJF9sNZ-9prVNF1p4nN7rHuBXG36cZtYH903oY4ek5VbbF5XTkSnoDajGo/s1600/Agra+boy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgee13kDzIsNg5xnBUzmZtFynaqNKp0ba3gM4B8eoLNnYbf5hgrfoDCyExVrrBO-HXzD5JUZfHogAz1h69qfbJF9sNZ-9prVNF1p4nN7rHuBXG36cZtYH903oY4ek5VbbF5XTkSnoDajGo/s320/Agra+boy.JPG" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young boy in the doorway of his home<br />Agra, India</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzGKkkINqSs2uaFB757eNQ8x_Ird9B39LIqlf78BJnUcySOnNK0daDp6dB65D0-V_Pq1vyQm6XeAF9aGwnngasCazvPTptz6oUQ3BkEOwdbUYKzeTlIoM_E78QP6xt0166Gw0CfALwWE/s1600/Agra+girl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzGKkkINqSs2uaFB757eNQ8x_Ird9B39LIqlf78BJnUcySOnNK0daDp6dB65D0-V_Pq1vyQm6XeAF9aGwnngasCazvPTptz6oUQ3BkEOwdbUYKzeTlIoM_E78QP6xt0166Gw0CfALwWE/s320/Agra+girl.JPG" width="119" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little girl<br />Agra, India</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiLM0XhH3_3qyObVV0j0fHdbSKGEnLZW6kZ6jmVQeY1Q3nghyRWoszzXQMD3fKhWUSSrfANVYb9Q9xUvrKcVkVwo5joX6qkEmBKn89Eg3douwIg1XD8c_mbanMBqzl1aA5Gig6KMYI4g/s1600/American+girl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiLM0XhH3_3qyObVV0j0fHdbSKGEnLZW6kZ6jmVQeY1Q3nghyRWoszzXQMD3fKhWUSSrfANVYb9Q9xUvrKcVkVwo5joX6qkEmBKn89Eg3douwIg1XD8c_mbanMBqzl1aA5Gig6KMYI4g/s320/American+girl.JPG" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American girl</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSY44RlA-UkVEhDava_vmSa2YgIBdSxbC0anMhCgC29vwHZuC5B3cg5vv7YbRCUoviaexwMN00eWjEnbINpBBk3V2pL4NVqUo6CWnyX9UK2Ek9ukr_K0npCfSoQsB_E8bPzKsl-BFlN4/s1600/Belize+boy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSY44RlA-UkVEhDava_vmSa2YgIBdSxbC0anMhCgC29vwHZuC5B3cg5vv7YbRCUoviaexwMN00eWjEnbINpBBk3V2pL4NVqUo6CWnyX9UK2Ek9ukr_K0npCfSoQsB_E8bPzKsl-BFlN4/s320/Belize+boy.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little boy, Belize</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtDmIPJmkx_F-R3iv5vOppn8EzQ2FhWBb48yVLPfqfPm65s-NGDE-jCkaK8uXt2jtIlq4Kf4h0hn3oLOsb48_soEkTwH-ihjVGI_8CF0aSfj5xCWRAySTEtQ3XWVMLlbdG72zykb2Zdg/s1600/Belize+girl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtDmIPJmkx_F-R3iv5vOppn8EzQ2FhWBb48yVLPfqfPm65s-NGDE-jCkaK8uXt2jtIlq4Kf4h0hn3oLOsb48_soEkTwH-ihjVGI_8CF0aSfj5xCWRAySTEtQ3XWVMLlbdG72zykb2Zdg/s320/Belize+girl.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girl from dancing troupe, Belize</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAkHPjB4FaTbeurjUS4vwVz2Z01MNnCBfSfj3jcFsOS32PckYg6kVtAtbNxvuI0k9YRsZpMovHGfmeOjUoTS5UgnjsBvfGCJQHusihl8YmoD_bViO8wkeJm5XKbYjkEWw8FSOQplOnogg/s1600/Boy+and+dog+in+Belize.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAkHPjB4FaTbeurjUS4vwVz2Z01MNnCBfSfj3jcFsOS32PckYg6kVtAtbNxvuI0k9YRsZpMovHGfmeOjUoTS5UgnjsBvfGCJQHusihl8YmoD_bViO8wkeJm5XKbYjkEWw8FSOQplOnogg/s320/Boy+and+dog+in+Belize.JPG" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Island boy with a dog, Belize</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GWyo468W_5lX12qQAxUci2tZHIPXDlyGZM3sqWu-Zedf7jZed6Nb16JSjzOwuM8qtKvkRQj50UDkP2sF4gN7OFoRwJTxtxvF1BFWJ2lA3_fJUCD8CTao8gl-0EtqsEbJI9fXrNYj_Hk/s1600/Cambodian+boy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GWyo468W_5lX12qQAxUci2tZHIPXDlyGZM3sqWu-Zedf7jZed6Nb16JSjzOwuM8qtKvkRQj50UDkP2sF4gN7OFoRwJTxtxvF1BFWJ2lA3_fJUCD8CTao8gl-0EtqsEbJI9fXrNYj_Hk/s320/Cambodian+boy.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boy with a bicycle, Angkor, Cambodia</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Lc8YZusnT4v5C9QGsG0ylwnly8c3maPTHg3VoBqL80HWwNrsUGxdxugJ7Mpb7ApmjnGt685-vhQBAqFdaSfAVFjStAK5yJ3J2RxsArSozMbm-OsXgLSKRHHKEkN4GoInUNfgJMbzTVw/s1600/Child+and+dog+in+Cuzco.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Lc8YZusnT4v5C9QGsG0ylwnly8c3maPTHg3VoBqL80HWwNrsUGxdxugJ7Mpb7ApmjnGt685-vhQBAqFdaSfAVFjStAK5yJ3J2RxsArSozMbm-OsXgLSKRHHKEkN4GoInUNfgJMbzTVw/s320/Child+and+dog+in+Cuzco.JPG" width="190" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boy with puppy, Cuzco, Peru</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUtSw4qaR0xFpVdOtG4WjQGMLkB_nQlg6lzEJddOzzuEn_ihAi2an_wiyISZ4mGx0ZYGTQ60QDkPsTcjBeBYKLwmbxCLOKiA0UeDMBtpi4tU43jQsooMND8JplUaIzO6YGWEn3Mxqi6M/s1600/English+boy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUtSw4qaR0xFpVdOtG4WjQGMLkB_nQlg6lzEJddOzzuEn_ihAi2an_wiyISZ4mGx0ZYGTQ60QDkPsTcjBeBYKLwmbxCLOKiA0UeDMBtpi4tU43jQsooMND8JplUaIzO6YGWEn3Mxqi6M/s320/English+boy.JPG" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">English boy</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho4o82eYLPjsDDrjVD5KPxUXBuSaaGSNPtpjept1TyQo_Xh1DZpwZ1bt-CEmTXmYjd6otDw98fR_b1V63MXmm5qNzhj3pYGTX30KmeIN999buKITA-2hdZr0oSSf6XWPnKZ2TT4Z89J9A/s1600/Masai+girls.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho4o82eYLPjsDDrjVD5KPxUXBuSaaGSNPtpjept1TyQo_Xh1DZpwZ1bt-CEmTXmYjd6otDw98fR_b1V63MXmm5qNzhj3pYGTX30KmeIN999buKITA-2hdZr0oSSf6XWPnKZ2TT4Z89J9A/s320/Masai+girls.JPG" width="175" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Maasai girls, Serengeti, Tanzania</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEham-B8oKggTuoNKBTrbrQtvM3oBHAKA3g60E4Ur8epLwoMEsRTG1TZfHbsVh2kEzu7hnGWSagfUrUUIUtHFkUyY6ul7JVJSl1mLpUU8pKO2Bd4Bn2pRx9rYdYza0tRnzs7hYgKtl6qdWQ/s1600/Native+Australian+girl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEham-B8oKggTuoNKBTrbrQtvM3oBHAKA3g60E4Ur8epLwoMEsRTG1TZfHbsVh2kEzu7hnGWSagfUrUUIUtHFkUyY6ul7JVJSl1mLpUU8pKO2Bd4Bn2pRx9rYdYza0tRnzs7hYgKtl6qdWQ/s320/Native+Australian+girl.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Native Australian girl delighted by walkie-talkie</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfKYd2eyo7PH6t2m3DAf5D9ALA4gQe_CnE5hrOe_2rEeK1tzTY1r-0mm8MQbJb6GgGq_Pt-qk87QVH9lsLdglNVsHGTwJsJNy7GldLOUM_0QWSiF-rDyN_FV_2YtZ0V_djVtWkSW3qe0/s1600/Papua+New+Guinea+boy+with+chief.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfKYd2eyo7PH6t2m3DAf5D9ALA4gQe_CnE5hrOe_2rEeK1tzTY1r-0mm8MQbJb6GgGq_Pt-qk87QVH9lsLdglNVsHGTwJsJNy7GldLOUM_0QWSiF-rDyN_FV_2YtZ0V_djVtWkSW3qe0/s320/Papua+New+Guinea+boy+with+chief.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The chief's son, Ambua, Papua New Guinea</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8diNWnQbliJ4OSwau6_eSX0bsXhVdvzQ5KNU0i0xfsIhGj9ryXfst1fa87z2pARfV7GFxRgP8rpfOKHzqWbrQSRRMK3Ly01WX02dGm6dXnr5bQdLksyKViZjqNFJny9Ev34qcd8VAJE/s1600/Papua+New+Guinea+boy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8diNWnQbliJ4OSwau6_eSX0bsXhVdvzQ5KNU0i0xfsIhGj9ryXfst1fa87z2pARfV7GFxRgP8rpfOKHzqWbrQSRRMK3Ly01WX02dGm6dXnr5bQdLksyKViZjqNFJny9Ev34qcd8VAJE/s320/Papua+New+Guinea+boy.JPG" width="151" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young man from Papua New Guinea</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDtsj98ukLcq1JoI1Cs-bXNvsfT8AHcinMnMw0QE5v0BjS7GRYR8TaKL526-ZdC52O_pOSXRIngqyflL-NjE-Hkg9uijzpPKQTy1ON5yHnVm9pGI8Y5eiw6TrMHcm4cM6oRMEsm4hTOI/s1600/Papua+New+Guinea+children+with+pig.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDtsj98ukLcq1JoI1Cs-bXNvsfT8AHcinMnMw0QE5v0BjS7GRYR8TaKL526-ZdC52O_pOSXRIngqyflL-NjE-Hkg9uijzpPKQTy1ON5yHnVm9pGI8Y5eiw6TrMHcm4cM6oRMEsm4hTOI/s320/Papua+New+Guinea+children+with+pig.JPG" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Youngsters with piglet, Tari, Papua New Guinea</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54YbZAQuCJG1XN4dodBznNYvQvFVhdY_g2hivy2N6U-fku5Ydl6JMFwtITbyzuXhNY5UYSWBE2zxPTtxwTgOZNCSMOFU5buiNz063gzx7XGaEP0CnOgWQPHkPy4uuEs3kpEAxrgY7zJY/s1600/Senegal+girls.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54YbZAQuCJG1XN4dodBznNYvQvFVhdY_g2hivy2N6U-fku5Ydl6JMFwtITbyzuXhNY5UYSWBE2zxPTtxwTgOZNCSMOFU5buiNz063gzx7XGaEP0CnOgWQPHkPy4uuEs3kpEAxrgY7zJY/s320/Senegal+girls.JPG" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little girls in the marketplace, Dakar, Senegal</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-38994877259776807612012-04-16T19:20:00.000-07:002012-04-16T19:20:52.625-07:00Dogs Around the WorldI have always been interested in observing the local dogs when I travel to different countries. Here are some pictures of dogs from countries around the world.<br />
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<b>CUZCO, PERU</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCQ7gx9naetFnsN1MKQZJe5knfYQ0Gb0sBltjegnJSsQGtBcYp6G8KDWqHIiJR0L5t7gB5MihFjSvjzn7dYddWYgffaTGS6AE1h3CBfzejf2VZuZbJjzb6c02mtY1rM1TcnkZCb1zppY/s1600/Child+and+dog+in+Cuzco.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCQ7gx9naetFnsN1MKQZJe5knfYQ0Gb0sBltjegnJSsQGtBcYp6G8KDWqHIiJR0L5t7gB5MihFjSvjzn7dYddWYgffaTGS6AE1h3CBfzejf2VZuZbJjzb6c02mtY1rM1TcnkZCb1zppY/s320/Child+and+dog+in+Cuzco.JPG" width="190" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcFpHSmH7t22t7pP_TMVmIiAZGyw3HabwrOrEGs0SLjHdpUW0T4bQAhWQMfPyAXxSmHShGbHg2u7QZ3HO6jApFlutijVt7ttCl1gHqP3OZB6USXNcHKbHHSZ8vlYyGRK-X61DjTLJ_IM/s1600/Dog+in+Cuzco.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcFpHSmH7t22t7pP_TMVmIiAZGyw3HabwrOrEGs0SLjHdpUW0T4bQAhWQMfPyAXxSmHShGbHg2u7QZ3HO6jApFlutijVt7ttCl1gHqP3OZB6USXNcHKbHHSZ8vlYyGRK-X61DjTLJ_IM/s320/Dog+in+Cuzco.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Every dog I saw in Cuzco, and there were many, appeared to be on an important mission of its own. None attempted to interact with people in any way, or even acknowledge that the people were there. A young local man told me that every family had a dog; that the dogs were released from their homes in the morning to spend the day as they wished, but all dogs came home at dinnertime to eat and spend the night at home doing their job of guarding hearth and home. I'm not sure that Cuzco dogs don't live the ideal dog life. Yes, there is some risk, but those dogs seemed <i>grown up </i>in a way that American dogs seldom seem to me. They had their own concerns, their own lives, and were well fed and housed since they had value to their families. I might want to be reincarnated as a Cuzco dog.<br />
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<b>EASTER ISLAND</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCH3XCGpAkMUgak2km3JAb0GYguikmIKie-r8fuWFJASkLTWuaXE-wt4pB7oAdoRyBQTecfG7jd7gKPEs-OgXw3QnQtV-9GSe3-WejKTf_EpJ0kqGZs4GWc4Yj6Ajj4-31FpuGvzZzsP8/s1600/Easter+Island+dog+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCH3XCGpAkMUgak2km3JAb0GYguikmIKie-r8fuWFJASkLTWuaXE-wt4pB7oAdoRyBQTecfG7jd7gKPEs-OgXw3QnQtV-9GSe3-WejKTf_EpJ0kqGZs4GWc4Yj6Ajj4-31FpuGvzZzsP8/s320/Easter+Island+dog+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Black and tan seems to be a common color combination for dogs the world over. Does anyone know why?</div>
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Dogs and horses ran free on Easter Island. These two were keeping company in a hotel parking lot.</div>
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<b>TARI, PAPUA NEW GUINEA</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3qLiCzy6IZAAvoHGak7x8iXZ50sV1wsrDU5OjK0gwUG5vj7eW8-mIeYpdXEa5ykUEPoShw5lnFTzcp9_6OIND4BCs7zNfPfM8-ROZy91v_0xj4BkodbGOdcA0rP8tMUFOd6w5u2ymTo/s1600/Papua+New+Guinea+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3qLiCzy6IZAAvoHGak7x8iXZ50sV1wsrDU5OjK0gwUG5vj7eW8-mIeYpdXEa5ykUEPoShw5lnFTzcp9_6OIND4BCs7zNfPfM8-ROZy91v_0xj4BkodbGOdcA0rP8tMUFOd6w5u2ymTo/s320/Papua+New+Guinea+dog.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I saw several dogs in the highlands of Papua New Guinea. I saw no sign that these dogs belonged to anyone; they were foraging around the town market. Like most dogs around the world who have been free to make their own breeding choices for enough generations, these dogs were medium-sized (40 pounds) with ears that stood up. </div>
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<b>SIEM REAP, CAMBODIA</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z1vHw9qJRxFGy5XdbbTSNpbOXjJEBPv9PNZjxz3w-a8XkiPvhKb0cE7N2nPWDNJvQWz4qvsUkynX_RrRyGRnKOO3rUIaiTp3jlmuVHXaI_OCye5OMjLvhwhDz9IOrJNnwGy_2LQ1X68/s1600/Cambodia+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z1vHw9qJRxFGy5XdbbTSNpbOXjJEBPv9PNZjxz3w-a8XkiPvhKb0cE7N2nPWDNJvQWz4qvsUkynX_RrRyGRnKOO3rUIaiTp3jlmuVHXaI_OCye5OMjLvhwhDz9IOrJNnwGy_2LQ1X68/s320/Cambodia+dog.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic00aeXlMGUMvoNRJcxL3HxwUVsypGDhs3UJFv8EwKl8oQQ6ReFnuT0R5thaOWLPnY1ZOsLEmIGnZF53bVvY2Vtfqo9vcG6giFAM_10kx4QBe80mF1zTxWhMK4_Uxh6ZQ2jNb-8PI8Vaw/s1600/Cambodia+dogs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic00aeXlMGUMvoNRJcxL3HxwUVsypGDhs3UJFv8EwKl8oQQ6ReFnuT0R5thaOWLPnY1ZOsLEmIGnZF53bVvY2Vtfqo9vcG6giFAM_10kx4QBe80mF1zTxWhMK4_Uxh6ZQ2jNb-8PI8Vaw/s320/Cambodia+dogs.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Like the cows and the monkeys I saw in Cambodia, the dogs of Siem Reap seemed to be independent, self-assured - and very relaxed! Note that they too are medium-sized with upstanding ears.</div>
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<b>AGRA, INDIA</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aJn0t0LNHr0mVufMOImjSvYAO_2JhP7jP9Uf23VFNvDoIwYVvrZdRnJLrDwd5YLbR2c_o6Q2iK_Wd2tymOM1t747OsdgjHZwDp-8kqjceMQy3mtoWKmBxwhUdAIw_5kggYPLs-GpPAM/s1600/India+dog+with+collar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aJn0t0LNHr0mVufMOImjSvYAO_2JhP7jP9Uf23VFNvDoIwYVvrZdRnJLrDwd5YLbR2c_o6Q2iK_Wd2tymOM1t747OsdgjHZwDp-8kqjceMQy3mtoWKmBxwhUdAIw_5kggYPLs-GpPAM/s320/India+dog+with+collar.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This dog wore a bandana and stood at the edge of its property.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWB5Gk3pQM-mziWnF9U-uMGECnpWoOkp_DEqhcKmV4dzfgVMHaCE8WKhWxy7g9B6OfcR4xMqGwQ1y72Cs8LZ16kIRWJmCoHB6k0ym2Bwomv4bcQQK9Ff5dZlV1f1k_ssd7iBpu2l7rTDA/s1600/India+dog+yawning.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWB5Gk3pQM-mziWnF9U-uMGECnpWoOkp_DEqhcKmV4dzfgVMHaCE8WKhWxy7g9B6OfcR4xMqGwQ1y72Cs8LZ16kIRWJmCoHB6k0ym2Bwomv4bcQQK9Ff5dZlV1f1k_ssd7iBpu2l7rTDA/s320/India+dog+yawning.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This girl strolled around the grounds of the Taj Mahal.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzD4-tnxjBa4RMMGHGbroCA58LwEzIrXsLponuCGTMHWeM2LALsnRVW9aG5DOwLxfql2WIxO6blC5oKycr-3vkO1VqhAvgqLdBRrV7Ir-Dw6UP4jNrVGHVTwK0cBNGNgln8fRsjuHTkA/s1600/Puppies+in+India.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzD4-tnxjBa4RMMGHGbroCA58LwEzIrXsLponuCGTMHWeM2LALsnRVW9aG5DOwLxfql2WIxO6blC5oKycr-3vkO1VqhAvgqLdBRrV7Ir-Dw6UP4jNrVGHVTwK0cBNGNgln8fRsjuHTkA/s320/Puppies+in+India.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhhb-z2K5avL18SdgzNIV0Lo0bM4s2TyyxJlSd8MGDQVU5Itj_VwO9SW9n2XXyHMB8gjhwZXf7fDj4-K8WI5u6eN-Y_qndPLJgxhyphenhyphenHY3S9xqUegHrWwI4yJkvxCAqXcERymqk2f94JRk/s1600/India+puppy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhhb-z2K5avL18SdgzNIV0Lo0bM4s2TyyxJlSd8MGDQVU5Itj_VwO9SW9n2XXyHMB8gjhwZXf7fDj4-K8WI5u6eN-Y_qndPLJgxhyphenhyphenHY3S9xqUegHrWwI4yJkvxCAqXcERymqk2f94JRk/s320/India+puppy.JPG" width="278" /></a></div>
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I saw this adorable puppy sitting by a ruined building. When I called "puppy puppy puppy!" its three siblings came running out of a crack in the building, tails wagging wildly. A passing man encouraged me to take them home. Oh, did I want to. Especially Little Red.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6CR93_pdaeRSG3eXlPD4CeIYtR9tIozoDUDngUX-KZP0lhkx-7cG7XRPorY3rMN_FyqAh3mp2McnZ8dRstKUXJpaa0RzbY1lfz6FfYmQ-39nTkBjoEyygHaUxDrfqVwEzwWSZ9sYjSfM/s1600/kid+playing+with+dog+in+India.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6CR93_pdaeRSG3eXlPD4CeIYtR9tIozoDUDngUX-KZP0lhkx-7cG7XRPorY3rMN_FyqAh3mp2McnZ8dRstKUXJpaa0RzbY1lfz6FfYmQ-39nTkBjoEyygHaUxDrfqVwEzwWSZ9sYjSfM/s320/kid+playing+with+dog+in+India.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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These two had a lovely time playing outside a shop in Agra.</div>
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<b>BELIZE</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypA7T3eAldmIUZSHtAz8pQttdNKPaVnqwTSSimUtlFevRX7367cCuOYcDEbuZ_nMiNSfx5B09ghsi8TCRqjignnDnG_S_nGDBi_dvx-6UiIFvz5IN7Obo6Uk39wXClvtzUxKHK9RPCDY/s1600/Belize+dog+and+child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypA7T3eAldmIUZSHtAz8pQttdNKPaVnqwTSSimUtlFevRX7367cCuOYcDEbuZ_nMiNSfx5B09ghsi8TCRqjignnDnG_S_nGDBi_dvx-6UiIFvz5IN7Obo6Uk39wXClvtzUxKHK9RPCDY/s320/Belize+dog+and+child.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The child is enjoying this closeness. Is the dog?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4JjM8RFBc9PZH_hRtO4EmtxF2KmGcHbZEhKyHK5R7V43aAcZLBZmovZu5osR2trfP_ythmMxlrQpFoRcCM3n41D_HVAJXZYWrRFYb4IT7nXZnHiJCsZvGnuY_pcwwIeLwtywkyHW6DU/s1600/Belize+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4JjM8RFBc9PZH_hRtO4EmtxF2KmGcHbZEhKyHK5R7V43aAcZLBZmovZu5osR2trfP_ythmMxlrQpFoRcCM3n41D_HVAJXZYWrRFYb4IT7nXZnHiJCsZvGnuY_pcwwIeLwtywkyHW6DU/s320/Belize+dog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ah, that's better. Tropical island life.</div>
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<b>KRUJA, ALBANIA</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxzQczwG5ReSBnjQZD5hnk1Br452rlv_0Ct5rUw6AZHIKenpSoMTrzCcievJQ67U7tG_Q8S9sO4wFLhNFDAYYIrmbVB8AzgvpiL87QiKAiH4mqAisg3ttMoal4-WQW2r1NJF5Qrko909I/s1600/Albanian+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxzQczwG5ReSBnjQZD5hnk1Br452rlv_0Ct5rUw6AZHIKenpSoMTrzCcievJQ67U7tG_Q8S9sO4wFLhNFDAYYIrmbVB8AzgvpiL87QiKAiH4mqAisg3ttMoal4-WQW2r1NJF5Qrko909I/s320/Albanian+dog.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The dogs I saw in Albania were working dogs. That doesn't mean that there were no pet dogs in Albania, just that I didn't see any. This dog is guarding chickens.<br />
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<b>WESTERN AUSTRALIA</b><br />
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Not surprisingly, dogs in Australia were much more similar to the dogs I was used to seeing in the USA than dogs I had seen in many other parts of the world. Clearly there was a good deal of human involvement here with selecting and breeding different types of dogs. Here are a few dogs that I encountered in Western Australia.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3ijN2ouFz7o1nPQ1kDdAafSGreZFhphFK8Pdt2R3NJJuQBiwyFzXZobmuN0f-ob8IwJ2IczkHoscUDtHyRyQ4hyphenhyphenLK4xC2p42JJWo7SZodkuputnnXxKEu3FAI4Wvut8piBXlMsGHoJc/s1600/Australia+dog+sleeping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3ijN2ouFz7o1nPQ1kDdAafSGreZFhphFK8Pdt2R3NJJuQBiwyFzXZobmuN0f-ob8IwJ2IczkHoscUDtHyRyQ4hyphenhyphenLK4xC2p42JJWo7SZodkuputnnXxKEu3FAI4Wvut8piBXlMsGHoJc/s200/Australia+dog+sleeping.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snoozing at the roadside</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrI4Gfb94UEc9ICvLlaKIFzTg-zui8f_oJtLqt31PVuD8L_yw4UukDW1aPPMhCF3z0YX9SHcYPLUlzw-KdJQ2o9c8dalj8rersbuYL6WG6LxffmbtxI1SLHi2-bXEW9G_4N-hr1VP5KgM/s1600/Australia+dog+in+glasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrI4Gfb94UEc9ICvLlaKIFzTg-zui8f_oJtLqt31PVuD8L_yw4UukDW1aPPMhCF3z0YX9SHcYPLUlzw-KdJQ2o9c8dalj8rersbuYL6WG6LxffmbtxI1SLHi2-bXEW9G_4N-hr1VP5KgM/s200/Australia+dog+in+glasses.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delightfully, this fellow was a pub mascot.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5WnxngSHMZ_53IOHy02hlksA3RRCN8OTTpt5HLXkgXCxwVTwDxpvASS6AvoBIOLfvaKD5roGuefRUYNK44zon2PWhdCMh_3PVMt-eXEfeC_1xzN0xdgIL4FYGPxvnmI7EHFPM1iE1Kk/s1600/Australia+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5WnxngSHMZ_53IOHy02hlksA3RRCN8OTTpt5HLXkgXCxwVTwDxpvASS6AvoBIOLfvaKD5roGuefRUYNK44zon2PWhdCMh_3PVMt-eXEfeC_1xzN0xdgIL4FYGPxvnmI7EHFPM1iE1Kk/s200/Australia+dog.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easygoing fellow</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZPCimHUvdFgO8ZcSZ7m1xIdtzoR7GS8eA5wTEtyC3XlLKfzi4ltJNX_1cPzF67T9-Rpx4NKlH7A6t_1ZvHUqVWuq2nECGlpy1o72VEu4V-jk773ldgj28pYId1Wgus4XpND7yE-B_6WM/s1600/Australia+staff+bulldog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZPCimHUvdFgO8ZcSZ7m1xIdtzoR7GS8eA5wTEtyC3XlLKfzi4ltJNX_1cPzF67T9-Rpx4NKlH7A6t_1ZvHUqVWuq2nECGlpy1o72VEu4V-jk773ldgj28pYId1Wgus4XpND7yE-B_6WM/s200/Australia+staff+bulldog.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lovely Staffie</td></tr>
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<b>DUBROVNIK, CROATIA</b></div>
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Finally, to my amazement, I encountered a free-ranging Beauceron on the streets of Dubrovnik. This fellow looked as if he was searching for his owner - but he did not want any help. Now that I have my own Beauceron his physical signs of stress are even more apparent to me. Thankfully for the sake of his safety he was in the pedestrian-only part of town. I hope he is home safe and sound now.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z1vHw9qJRxFGy5XdbbTSNpbOXjJEBPv9PNZjxz3w-a8XkiPvhKb0cE7N2nPWDNJvQWz4qvsUkynX_RrRyGRnKOO3rUIaiTp3jlmuVHXaI_OCye5OMjLvhwhDz9IOrJNnwGy_2LQ1X68/s1600/Cambodia+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">;;</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z1vHw9qJRxFGy5XdbbTSNpbOXjJEBPv9PNZjxz3w-a8XkiPvhKb0cE7N2nPWDNJvQWz4qvsUkynX_RrRyGRnKOO3rUIaiTp3jlmuVHXaI_OCye5OMjLvhwhDz9IOrJNnwGy_2LQ1X68/s1600/Cambodia+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z1vHw9qJRxFGy5XdbbTSNpbOXjJEBPv9PNZjxz3w-a8XkiPvhKb0cE7N2nPWDNJvQWz4qvsUkynX_RrRyGRnKOO3rUIaiTp3jlmuVHXaI_OCye5OMjLvhwhDz9IOrJNnwGy_2LQ1X68/s1600/Cambodia+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z1vHw9qJRxFGy5XdbbTSNpbOXjJEBPv9PNZjxz3w-a8XkiPvhKb0cE7N2nPWDNJvQWz4qvsUkynX_RrRyGRnKOO3rUIaiTp3jlmuVHXaI_OCye5OMjLvhwhDz9IOrJNnwGy_2LQ1X68/s1600/Cambodia+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z1vHw9qJRxFGy5XdbbTSNpbOXjJEBPv9PNZjxz3w-a8XkiPvhKb0cE7N2nPWDNJvQWz4qvsUkynX_RrRyGRnKOO3rUIaiTp3jlmuVHXaI_OCye5OMjLvhwhDz9IOrJNnwGy_2LQ1X68/s1600/Cambodia+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-617088336576131092012-04-09T11:02:00.001-07:002012-04-09T11:02:29.806-07:00The Mysterious Distance Between a Snail and a Walnut<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I grew up in a family that loved to play with words, in both conventional and unconventional ways. My parents always worked crossword puzzles and unscrambled the word jumble in the daily newspaper (today at age 90, they still do). They also played word games with me when we went on road trips in my childhood. One game started with a tag line or theme, such as “Born Free.” Then anyone could contribute a related clue for the others to figure out. For example, someone would say “How does a sheep feel when it has escaped with all its wool?” Answer: “Shorn Free.” “Now that we’ve just crossed the border out of Kansas, we are...” Answer: “Corn Free.” And so on, until every possibility had been exhausted. Points for cleverness!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I still love word games. I play Bookworm on the computer almost every day, and go to a great deal of trouble to create the longest, most interesting words I can. My favorite game with words, though, is one that dates back to my early 20’s, maybe earlier. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Somehow, somewhere, it occurred to some friend(s) and me to replace the word “love” with the word “lunch.” Song titles alone improve immediately. Here are a few examples:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Prisoner of Lunch”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“(Money) Can’t Buy Me Lunch”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“All You Need is Lunch”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Everlasting Lunch”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“You Can’t Hurry Lunch”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You will notice that this word substitution only works when “love” is being used as a noun. “She Lunches You” is not acceptable. However, there are two rare variations on the love/lunch theme that may sometimes be used. The first is when “lovin’” becomes “luncheon,” as in “All My Luncheon (I Will Give To You).” The second, even rarer variation is the replacement of “love me” with “lunchmeat,” as in “Lunchmeat Tender” - but not "Lunchmeat Do," ugh. Please use good judgment when attempting these rather tricky variations.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Lyrics can be even more fun than titles. Here is a sample. If you know the song, sing it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">from “Fanny (Be Tender With My Lunch),” by The Bee Gees </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Be tender with my lunch; </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You know how easy it is to hurt me </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Fanny, be tender with my lunch, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">'Cause it's all that I've got </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And my lunch won't desert me </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Once you have mastered the love/lunch substitution, you may begin replacing the word “heart” with “hamster.” Some classic song titles are:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“How Can You Mend a Broken Hamster?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Hamsterless”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Stop Dragging My Hamster Around”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Everybody’s Got a Hungry Hamster”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and a nice combo:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Put a Little Lunch In Your Hamster”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A quick lyric example from “Owner of a Lonely Heart,” by Yes:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Owner of a lonely hamster<br />
Owner of a lonely hamster<br />
Much better than - a<br />
Owner of a broken hamster<br />
Owner of a lonely hamster</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Finally, the words “walnut” and “snail” may be used to replace “woman” and “man.” Song title examples:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“When A Snail Loves a Walnut”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“She’s Always a Walnut to Me”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Stand By Your Snail”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Ballad of a Thin Snail”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Walnut”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A sample lyric from U2’s “A Snail and A Walnut”:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I could never take a chance </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Of losing lunch to find romance </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the mysterious distance </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Between a snail and a walnut </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">No I could never take a chance </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">‘Cos I could never understand </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The mysterious distance </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Between a snail and a walnut</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Mysterious, indeed!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There is no need to limit yourself to the world of music ... lunch, hamsters, walnuts and snails are everywhere. Who hasn’t heard these common sayings?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I wear my hamster on my sleeve.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">All’s fair in lunch and war.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">No snail is an island.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Frailty, thy name is walnut.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We find many fine examples in movies:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_LRrvEPxNwzlj2FftbDLTjoDtbjAYIlGM934Q08sRo3L392lvpvyzzsm1vcREyHwphZ2d40xzaslyrlGSpei5tyHyUa7mdlwTjhY-51fI-fnN-fssGP3BdABnJnWLgww6WB-eI8zL24/s1600/Movie+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_LRrvEPxNwzlj2FftbDLTjoDtbjAYIlGM934Q08sRo3L392lvpvyzzsm1vcREyHwphZ2d40xzaslyrlGSpei5tyHyUa7mdlwTjhY-51fI-fnN-fssGP3BdABnJnWLgww6WB-eI8zL24/s320/Movie+collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And books:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwVh88wldKPBVEYeDs3DnWqp9pQodIlTM0cXXAItQiZA2EVnd1P9m-5_ZUnWvTyo4bQRZ5QTpjQYB1fESWpp6aEVCo8JAOId3zi82ieU6f66QvplYgdFdm-m2AKkYMbK_PDgfSkVjNjY/s1600/Book+cover+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwVh88wldKPBVEYeDs3DnWqp9pQodIlTM0cXXAItQiZA2EVnd1P9m-5_ZUnWvTyo4bQRZ5QTpjQYB1fESWpp6aEVCo8JAOId3zi82ieU6f66QvplYgdFdm-m2AKkYMbK_PDgfSkVjNjY/s320/Book+cover+collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A quick look through the self-help section of Barnes and Noble produced these gems:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnCcukvEsZILijZTMMg-FiAc29b34eifaVLLilSutzG1UElegS41fgIxAa1piCmbghzXM99iuih3i2A8jwSckkA-J0N8fCIuiaHRRScfBgzHaB7cN3KakL369EJ-eWj-IBBv-j-8FRDE/s1600/Self-help.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnCcukvEsZILijZTMMg-FiAc29b34eifaVLLilSutzG1UElegS41fgIxAa1piCmbghzXM99iuih3i2A8jwSckkA-J0N8fCIuiaHRRScfBgzHaB7cN3KakL369EJ-eWj-IBBv-j-8FRDE/s320/Self-help.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I hope you are inspired to go forth into the world in search of lunch, hamster, walnut, and snail. Bring your favorite discoveries back and share them here, I would love to see them.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And always remember:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Lunch makes the world go round.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Or is it “cold hands, warm hamster?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8898176330782202054.post-10086680101640542272012-03-03T20:00:00.000-08:002012-03-03T20:00:02.713-08:00Losing Davy<br />
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Losing Davy</div>
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When I was ten years old, a friend and I hatched a plan. We knew that - sadly - we were too young to catch the attention of Davy Jones, but my sister Sherry was perfect: 21 years old and beautiful beyond compare, in my eyes. So we rushed into her room and asked her if she would marry him. She laughed and said he didn’t even know him! We were crushed and confused. What difference did that make? Just show yourself, he will want to marry you!</div>
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I guess I’m glad she didn’t marry Davy. I guess. Pop star marriages are risky business; Davy was on his third when he died. It might have been worth her taking the risk, though - worth it to me, anyway. But not too much later I realized it was Peter Tork I really loved, and switched my allegiance. I never asked Sherry to marry <i>him</i>. He was mine. If only he would wait ten years for me, we would be golden. Ah well...</div>
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When Davy Jones died last week, there was an outpouring of grief and reminiscence on Facebook the like of which I have never seen before. He was on the young side for death (66) but I’m not certain the response would have been different if he had died twenty years later. I didn't hear anyone lament that he died <i>so young</i>. It was just his death - <i>Davy is dead! </i>- that rocked us.</div>
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Saturday mornings in the late ‘60s, I still watched cartoons but with some impatience, because the last Saturday morning show was not a cartoon but “The Monkees.” I remember sitting in the rocking chair in the living room glued to the TV for that magical half-hour, volume as high as my parents allowed, rocking in time to the music, full of joy and a strange bittersweet sense of longing, like premature nostalgia for something that isn't yet in the past. Saturday was mom’s cleaning day, and she inevitably (as I remember it) fired up the vacuum cleaner right around the time the show was wrapping up, forcing me to get down onto the floor and get as close to the TV as possible to hear during the last few precious minutes. I would have crawled inside it if I could have. I’m not sure if I wanted desperately to be <i>with</i> them, or to <i>be</i> them. Either way, it was a truly bitter let-down when the show was over. Good-bye magic, back to reality. The one Monkees song I never listen to, to this day, is "For Pete's Sake;" even all these years later it evokes rolling credits and the end of the show.</div>
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Lyndsey Parker of Stop the Presses! wrote:</div>
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“The Monkees” seemed not like a sitcom, but like a reality show to me: a totally realistic rockumentary serial chronicling what it must surely be like to be in a band, what the rock’n’roll lifestyle was supposedly all about. And to this day, I still choose to believe that bands are sort of like gangs: that they all live together in psychedelic “Real World” -style houses, sleep side-by-side in twin beds, cruise around in custom cars emblazoned with band logos, and get into all sorts of madcap adventures soundtracked by their own awesome pop songs, walking down the street and getting the funniest looks from everyone they meet. That’s what a band should be, right? I secretly suspect all bands aspire to be the Monkees in real life.”</div>
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Wait a minute ... does this mean that all bands <i>aren't</i> like that? I'm not sure. The Fools Face boys seemed to live a bit like that; no psychedelic house or logo-ed car, but shared hotel rooms (the only places I ever saw them, so it was close enough to the Monkees template), madcap adventures, cheerful camaraderie on and off stage, and fun, infectious music. Thanks FF, for letting me live a bit of the Monkees dream.</div>
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My generation got its prepubescent knowledge of the social changes of the 60’s from the Monkees. We were too young to understand what was going on with those interesting-looking hippies, but we enthusiastically latched onto the Monkees’ lyrics about peace and love and the need to be free. We had no comprehension of the psychedelic scene of the day, but grooved to the boys’ paisley tunics and bell bottoms. Our hard rock was "She," our message-laden folk rock was "Shades of Gray." We had no clue about the sexual revolution, but our budding sexuality thrilled to the ambiguous lyrics of “She Hangs Out” (what was she <i>doing? </i>And when would we be old enough to do it, and attract the attention of someone like Davy?). </div>
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My friends across the street, Bird and her sister Denise, were big Monkees fans too. Bird loved Mike, and Denise originally liked Peter best, but when I gave up Davy for Peter she obligingly traded Monkees with me. We couldn’t have more than one representative for each Monkee, because when we went into my basement and put their LPs on the record player, we became them, positioning ourselves as we saw them perform on TV, dancing and singing along. I always liked to be in the spotlight, so it was hard to give up being Davy, with his frontman charisma and his strangely sexy dance that I loved to imitate -- I <i>was </i>Davy when I did that dance. But it was worth playing imaginary keyboards at Rear Stage Left if I could have, I mean be, Peter.</div>
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There was always something about Davy, though. He was small, a more appropriate object of affection to a 10-year-old's eyes than a taller man. He had the most delicious accent, so exotic and exciting to us Midwestern American girls. He was, or at least seemed, quite a bit younger than the other three Monkees, almost accessible in age. He was both cute and sexy ... cute as a button and almost childlike while cutting up during the show, but smoky and sensual singing "Hard to Believe" and "Forget That Girl." There was no one else like Davy. There never has been anyone else like Davy since then, either.</div>
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I saw the three Monkees who deigned to tour together - no Mike, ever - in the late 1980's at the Washington State Fair. I was drawn like a moth to flame but was also filled with trepidation; what if they were awful, decrepit and paunchy and jaded, clearly just doing this for much-needed cash? In fact they were great: full of joy and fun and performing as well as they did in their prime, possibly better. They were so good that I burst into tears back home that night in the knowledge that they would be performing one more time, the next afternoon, and I would miss them ... so I drove back down and saw them again. I'm so glad I did. Both concerts together were like one of those rare, incredible dreams that allow you to completely recapture the feelings and experiences of a great time in your life. Watching and listening to the Monkees filled me with a pure and soaring happiness that seems to me still to be a rare and precious thing. </div>
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Whither goest thou, Davy? His death left me so shocked and sad that Shane went out and bought me flowers. While writing this piece, though, I suddenly realized that all is not lost. I cannot in my wildest dreams imagine a better afterlife than waking from death to find myself in Monkeesworld. I am going to choose to believe in that afterlife - waking in my own twin bed in that psychedelic house, riding in that cool car, running around having zany adventures with the boys, and singing and dancing side by side with Davy into eternity.</div>
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<i>"Oh yeah ... come on .........WOW!!!"</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqD0gytYlnVy_wqyLyIP4lkIBKrwSysym5QGzRK7wz50RGwH7HtCQnvZ53usFrlVOEkV8NETvkfxb-6wILA2LP1eeyGc-01ntlXY_8XZNRgm8yseWkD6_xTQTBDs1XPytiu-dStPy7N0/s1600/davy-jones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqD0gytYlnVy_wqyLyIP4lkIBKrwSysym5QGzRK7wz50RGwH7HtCQnvZ53usFrlVOEkV8NETvkfxb-6wILA2LP1eeyGc-01ntlXY_8XZNRgm8yseWkD6_xTQTBDs1XPytiu-dStPy7N0/s1600/davy-jones.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>Dixie Tennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509632314701572936noreply@blogger.com2