Thursday, August 26, 2004

Role Models

Thinking back:

We had taken Cosmo to the superspecial clinic to get his stifle (that’s vet-talk for “knee") flushed.  We were in the waiting room when one of Kelly’s colleagues from the guide dog program walked in with a dog from work.  “Oh, what are you doing here?,” she asked brightly.  We gave the thumbnail description of Cosmo’s woes.  “And what about you guys?” “Oh, Roselle needs to see the vet again.” “Well okay then, good luck, see ya....”

During this bland exchange Roselle lay down on the floor smiling up at me, an ordinary-looking yellow lab with regular, warm eyes and a normal pink nose.  Roselle and her handler were soon ushered into an exam room; I figured, they’re corporate clients, they get special treatment, not like us peons.... Then Kel mentioned, “Roselle’s the WTC dog.” Oh, I realized.  This dog is getting special treatment because she’s earned it. 

I don’t know what he was doing there, but on the morning of September 11, 2001, a graduate of Guide Dogs for the Blind was on the 78th floor of Tower One of the WTC, accompanied, of course, by his guide dog.  When a jet-powered, aluminium-clad maldotov cocktail 500 feet long slammed into the building at 400 miles an hour and blew a fireball that seared the entire planet, they were stuck up there.  Needless to say, if the Pentagon hadn’t prepared for this catastrophe, neither had Roselle.  Regardless, she got her human to a stairwell and led him down and out to safety.  Along the way, smoke and particulates in the air got up into her sensitive snout. 

After they had made their escape, the man was hired by Guide Dogs as a public speaker, sharing his story of survival with audiences around the country.  Roselle, however, soon had to be relieved of her duties and was brought back to the school in San Rafael where she’d been trained.  The crap she’d inhaled had gotten to her - her lungs and nose started giving her trouble.  These days, she was spending a lot of her time with the veterinarians.

So I had been standing in a sunny cheerful waiting room in the company of two dogs - one that I knew only too well from personal experience to be braver and stronger, possessed of a morality and rectitude far beyond my own; and the other, a stranger to me, unprepossessing, soft and yellow and friendly, an ordinary dog to the casual acquaintence, but now I knew her to have survived one of the most horrific incidents ever to be perpetrated by humankind against itself, to have led a blind man down 78 flights of smoky chaotic stairs surrounded by shrieks and suffering, loyal to her duty and her friends regardless of the terrible detriment to herself.

Their four eyes had gazed up to me as if I had been a superior being; their two tails had wagged with the joy of sharing my presence.  Well, they might be smart dogs and all, but I knew one thing for sure - that I had been, in their company, utterly outclassed. 

And now, in case you thought I’d forgotten, here’s a few Tropical Tidbits for your delectation and the preservation of what’s left of my mental health:

* Driving into our isolated seaside community where we were to celebrate a communal 40th birthday, among other noteworthy events, and as we travelled the lonely jungle road, a broad bright rainbow spanned our path and the Grateful Dead played the song Ship of Fools through our car radio, Jerry’s plaintive voice piercing my soul with the words, “how it makes me wild, with 40 years upon my head, to have you call me child....”

* Those things I thought were squirrels were actually mongooses, or mongeese, or mongooseim, or whatever is the plural of that species.  They’re just like squirrels but rather squirrelier, and their faces are more anthropomorphic, almost like little rodent monkeys.  Funny little critters.

* Frogtown: We were standing at the edge of the ocean looking out into an inky night over an inky sea when someone told me that those things that sounded like crickets were actually treefrogs, but I figured I’d never see one.  Then someone pointed out a good-sized specimen squatting on the grass just a few feet away.  As my eyes adjusted to the low light and I made out its form, I also noticed a few more small ones nearby.  Then I noticed a really huge one that was disturbingly close.  And by then I was able to tell that we were on a lawn that was spangled with hundreds of frogs, large and small, croaking and chirping and silent.  What at first was an entertaining tropical diversion suddenly took on the aspect of a plague.  I’ve got nothing against frogs, or amphibians in general - but a fellow can find himself suddenly surrounded by too much of a good thing....

I’ve mentioned this valley, Waipio, more than a few times.  It’s stunning, and the thrill of descending into it down a mindbendingly steep road rendered even me, a San Franciscan, aghast and fearful.  I particularly like this photo because it consists of two photos electronically stitched together. Let’s hear it for technology, and how it renders so many wonderful things accessible even to clodpates like me, so I can share them with genuises like you!

This is a big old tank somewhere outside Hilo. I loved the way it had corroded.  I’m just a fool for rust, I guess.  You know, they say it never sleeps....

This is the view from our Kapoho backyard across our semi-private ocean inlet lagoon, which we shared with three other houses and as many turtles as wanted to visit us.  Waking up every morning to see this setting bathed in the pink of dawn would have been enough for me all by itself.  But dining on the lanai in front of it, snorkling in it whenever the mood struck me, hearing the waves slosh against its lavastone walls as I fell asleep in the humid darkness… I’ve tried to put it into words, but they fail me.  It was sublime, if you took that word and cubed it.

This is the lagoon behind Andy and Heidi’s place in Kapoho.  This one was truly private - closed off against all outside use.  It was also a veritable swim-in aquarium - filled with geothermically heated fresh water with gated underwater access to the open ocean, stocked with scads of gorgeous tropical fish, clean and pure with great visibility even when we night-snorkled there.  The ocean inlet just beyond the zen garden (also all andy-n-heidi’s) leads inland to Champagne Cove, where the water was especially warm and the turtles particularly like to frolic.  The house was very comfortable, too, but with a lagoon like this there was almost no reason ever to go indoors.  Except when Andy was roasting those pork shoulders and Heidi put together her ice-cream socials.  No, really.

One night Charles and Lori had us all over for a b-b-q.  Shariar mixed drinks.  He’s quite the mixmaster.  I hardly do him justice here but I like the photo anyway.

Work continues to grind me to a fuzzy nubbin, though drinques with P last night were a very enjoyable respite.  Today, more of the same as far as the office goes, plus a union e-board meeting where I get to report on progress toward gaining access to retiree health care.  Tomorrow, an all-day conference.  I’m feeling a bit tired this morning.  Wish me luck and I’ll do the same for you.