I have two dogs. They poop a lot. My yard is full of their poop. But the snow that keeps falling hides it faster than I can get out to scoop it. OK, I don’t exactly rush out to scoop it up but still. The only down side to this is that while I am enjoying no poop scooping in the winter, my yard this spring after everything melts should resemble Calcutta in July.
I walked the dogs the whole three miles yesterday despite the forty foot of snow that had fallen since morning and despite the fact that I was often wading in snow above my knees. I came home pumped up on adrenaline and caffeine. Then the high wore off. It was, ultimately, a painful victory.
Well, this year made it a clean sweep. Every year since I’ve moved to Anchorage, I’ve spent Christmas Day with a kid on my GAL caseload either at McLaughlin Youth Facility or API. And let me assure you that if you want to be depressed for the holiday, there is no better way to be sad than to spend your day with kids in places like that.
So I spent part of Christmas Day sitting in a bare room on molded plastic furniture staring across at a 14-year-old boy who, under the best of circumstances, would have had trouble making conversation with me. Under these circumstances, it was downright painful.
We reached the nadir of the visit when he told me he got an IPod for Christmas as his gift from API. I brightened up at the thought that this would give us something to discuss. So I asked him what kind of music he liked because I’d be more than happy to go find him a CD to play on it.
Yes, you can stop laughing now. I have since been informed that IPods don’t take CDs. You have to have access to a computer to download music on to it. And, of course, this boy had no access to a computer. The one gift he got, aside from the North Slope magazines I brought him, he couldn’t use.
And so another Christmas passes in his youth and another unhappy memory is created. Why couldn’t this child be placed elsewhere so he didn’t have to spend his Christmas in API? The answer is simple. His problems are such that there are few if any programs in Alaska that can or will take him. This means that ultimately he faces deportation to the lower 48 where there are facilities that try to make children like him better.
Alaska made a promise a few years ago to keep these children home if at all possible. Alaska promised it would build a locked facility that was a treatment center so that we could keep them right here in their home state. What a wonderful concept.
But the promise remains unfulfilled and this child faces the increasing likelihood that his next Christmas will be spent in an even more foreign environment than this one.
Selling the public on a facility that will lock kids up is not easy. It wouldn’t be a jail or a psychiatric facility, concepts the public can easily grasp. Because the kids that need the physical restraints of a locked facility are sometimes neither criminals nor psychotic, they don’t belong in those facilities. What these kids are, are children who have been so badly damaged for whatever reason that they need to be in a secure facility where they can’t hurt themselves or put themselves in harm’s way. And this means being able to lock doors so they can’t run when the pain of treatment gets too much for them.
Placement in an outside facility only happens after many, many attempts at keeping the child in state in a group or foster home. But when those placements fail for the umpteenth time, when the child runs and endangers himself, when the child starts inflicting self-harm, when the child starts to threaten harm to others as a way to make their own pain go away, then that child can no longer be safely placed in an unlocked facility. That’s when we give the kid a ticket to the lower 48.
There is much made about the distance causing problems for families who want to work with the program to re-integrate the child back into their home life. The reality is that with many children, there is no family who wants to or can do that. The distance will make not one whit of difference to them
But oh what a difference it makes to the child. Imagine being so far away from everything familiar and comforting. Imagine spending your days surrounded by strangers who want to get into the most intimate details of your life without ever seeing a face that looks like yours or a friend who understands the life you left behind. For a village kid, these placements can be so initially devastating that it can take four to six months of adjustment before we even reach the beginning of treatment.
I think it’s time we fulfill our promise to these kids and get this facility built. Every year I hear promises about bringing our kids home. I hope this will finally be the year we actually follow through on that promise and make it more than just words said to shut people like me up.
Blue slept at my side through all the noise of firecrackers and other assorted bangs that started at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Blondie didn’t do so well. She actually made Mr. T’s gyrations look almost calm. Maybe because she weighs about four times what he weighed so when she jumps up on the bed to try to bury herself inside my skin, it’s a little more forceful. She tried to dig a hole in a plastic bag in my clothes closet to hide in. She tried to get under the couch and pushed it halfway across the room before I could stop her. So I guess Blondie doesn’t like loud bangs and noises. Yep, I think she’s made that perfectly clear. And I’m sure those nail marks on my neck from her frantic digging motion will go away in just a few days. The lesson I learned? When a dog is trying to get so close to you as to become your second skin, and that dog is freaked by ongoing loud bangs, don’t hold her too close when a bang occurs. Dogs apparently can’t control that frantic motion of their paws as they try to dig deeper into whatever is at hand...even if that’s your neck.
I do know how to have fun on New Year’s, don’t I?
One of our more intelligent Alaskan politicians...and believe me, in this state to be called more intelligent than most politicians is to be damned with faint praise...has announced that rather than give same sex couples state health benefits, he would strip those benefits from everyone, including people who in his mind are legitimately married. How much hate does that take? Since this is based on his Christian belief that marriage is only between a man and a woman (forget that this is not about marriage - that is a concept way beyond his level of hate), I have to ask what would Jesus do. And you know, somehow in my reading of the Bible, Jesus has never come across as mean and vindictive. In fact, I think he would probably want to see everyone get care when sick and get all the help they need to get that care. But then, maybe I’m missing some chapters in the Bible that say that Jesus would rather you die in pain and poverty than give you the right to have state health insurance if you are a gay employee’s partner.
When I was young, I spent an inordinate amount of time begging my parents to let me stay up till midnight. Eventually they did. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it didn’t happen. Midnight came and went, indistinguishable from 11:59 PM or 12:01 AM except for the fact that my parents woke up long enough to say Happy New Year and go to bed. So my New Year’s Eve expectations are limited. When I hosted the KBRW Barrow radio show on New Year’s Eve, I actually stayed up till midnight because I had to. Then Mr. T exhibited hysteria when the fireworks went off and that kept me up even later. Then, as he aged, Mr. T went deaf and the loud bangs no longer bothered him. So I no longer stayed up till midnight. Now, I have two new dogs and tonight will get to see their reaction to loud bangs and booms. Will they panic like Mr. T did and keep me up half the night holding them and telling them everything will be ok? Or will they, and I, sleep through the whole thing? Stay tuned.
In my one bit of holiday entertaining, I had some old friends over for dinner a couple of night ago. I was thinking about it today and realized that it was one of the most pleasant evenings I’ve spent in a long time. Old friends are really one of the great hidden positives of growing old.
Apparently some of my readers object to the fact that no Republicans made it into the Hall of Infamy this year. I guess they are so used to Republicans getting everything that they feel they should also get this honor. But these readers clearly do not understand the criteria for admission. Just being an asshole isn’t enough. Just being a warmongering, incompetent neocon isn’t enough. Just being president against all odds, common sense and wisdom is not enough. The thing about the Hall of Infamy is that the people and things admitted have to be more subtle. There is nothing subtle about the buffoons currently running this country. There is nothing but sadness that they will spend two more years making us the most hated nation on earth. Like with Mr. and Mrs Spears, they have no standards of decency and so do not deserve to breathe the same air as Donald Trump’s hair.
When my parents got older and used blood pressure medication and bent down, they were often dizzy when they straightened back up. I now take blood pressure medication but when I bend over and then straighten up, I get a head rush. It’s two totally different things and it’s why I will NEVER become my parents.
We now come to that time of year when, for want of something better to do for amusement, I decide who merits entry into my Hall of Infamy 2006. The criteria are fairly lax. Nominees mostly have to have annoyed the heck out of me or in some other way caused me to want to chase them off this planet during the past twelve months.
Just so we’re clear at the outset, Tom Cruise has achieved permanent residence in the Hall of Infamy. So have Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and any variation of their names that combines them into something that makes me want to toss my cookies. And finally, Donald Trump’s hair has its own wing in the Hall, and since he and that hair seem to be inseparable, he’s not eligible on his own for entry.
Having dispensed with the preliminaries, let’s take a look at who has received nods for the honor this year. Brittany Spears, of course, has received numerous nominations as has her about to be ex. But even a Hall of Infamy needs some standards and since neither of them apparently has any, I’m afraid they don’t make it in. However, if the media persists in calling Mr. Spears “Fedex” throughout the coming year, he may get the nod in 2007.
Condoleeza Rice received quite a few votes as the year progressed. I thought she would make it in till I realized that, despite being Secretary of State and traveling about 90% of the year, she still has a more active social life than I do. I think that should be reward enough for her this past year. She’ll just have to wait her turn - or wait till I have at least as many dates as she does - which means she may be waiting a very long time for the honor.
Of course, there were those mean people out there who nominated the Spears, Cruise, Madonna, Pitt/Jolie children. But I don’t feel you should be able to ride your parents’ coattails into this Hall. And while I am the first to admit that the Cruise child in particular could almost cause me to disregard the above restriction, I then find myself confronted with the antics of Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie and realize that I shouldn’t sell Suri short. Given time, she’ll probably be able to enter the Hall all on her own.
So who or what actually will get inducted this year? Well, two who and one what have made the cut. In order of their ranking I give you:
Number 3, Hillary Clinton. The presidential campaign hasn’t even begun and I’m already sick of hearing about her, whether she’s had plastic surgery, whether she should have left Bill, whether she can beat Obama, whether her election would signal the end of life as we know it. Enough already.
Number 2, Barak Obamba. This man has done virtually nothing yet to prove himself, but has already been crowned a demi god. No offense to Mr. Obamba, who I am sure might someday become a credible politician, but if he weren’t of mixed heritage would anyone be this excited? Wasn’t Martin Luther King’s dream about a world in which we were not judged by our color?
And finally, drum roll please, the number one entry into the 2006 Hall of Infamy is people on cell phones, whether driving their cars or walking through airports seemingly talking to themselves. May your cell phones all blow up in your hands simultaneously thereby cleansing the world of many potential future inductees at once.
I am sick and tired of sitting at a stop sign watching the person in the car in front of me in animated conversation on a cell phone thereby making them functionally unable to pull out into traffic in either a safe or timely fashion. And I am tired of sitting or standing next to someone in public and listening to their latest life crises, job crises, child crises or what an SOB the guy in the next cubicle is. I don’t care.
I know the world will not soon give up cell phones. I know I will probably be the last living person on earth without one. But as God is my witness, it will take some effort for anyone or anything to annoy me more than they do.
My fear, of course, is that in the next year someone will take up that challenge and win. Happy 2007. Let the new nominations begin.
The pope apparently spoke at midnight mass in Rome about taking care of the world’s children in honor of the child whose birth he was celebrating. Here’s a thought. Sell a couple of the Vatican’s pieces of art or ancient properties. You’ll make enough to feed, clothe and house a whole lot of children. I’m pretty sure that’s what Jesus would do.
No, really, today is the day I am absolutely taking a day of rest from my blog...oops, there I go again....i ruined my day off by writing about it.
This is my day off from my blog...though now that I’ve written this, it’s not really a day off, is it?
I was filling the water dishes for the dogs last night when it occurred to me that if I bought bigger water dishes now that I have two dogs, both of whom are bigger than Mr. T, I could save myself some time and effort. Then I thought that this was probably not bad exercise and if I bought a bigger bowl it would just stop me from the extra bending and lifting and that wasn’t necessarily good.
So this is what my life has become...I hold silent debates in my mind about whether small dog water dishes are better for my health. Take me, take me now!
It snowed all day Wednesday and there wass a total white out happening. I made it to my chiropractor’s appointment only by driving up onto a sidewalk twice. I then came home...very, very slowly...and canceled the vet appointment on the other end of town. And yet...and yet....the dogs got their three mile walk. I had snow down my back, snow up my pants and snow...well, other places. But they got their darn walk. So yes, I must be an old softie.