Two Dogs, Two Rides

When I took Ilsa out for a ride this morning, Cassie was howling in her crate. The streets were still wet, the sky was gray and humidity hung in the air like syrup on flap jacks. None of that didn't matter to the fireball Golden though. As Ilsa and rolled the Raleigh Public Utility Bike outside, Cassie began her imitation of Linda Blair on the Exorcist.

She wasn't really all that impressive, but it was enough to make me remember her when we got back home.

Chasing Shadows

I took the Raleigh Super Course out into the dropping sun this evening. The weatherman says we are in for a hard freeze tonight. I'm hoping he is wrong again, but a chill is already in the air.

I thought about my fascination for Diane Arbus' photography. Her genius was in her ability to gain access to the models she put before her lens. Much has been made of her photographing outsiders, but I think she was a bit like Goya. She had a way of making most people look like they existed on the fringes of society.

There was a time that I existed on the fringes. A sailor, a biker (the motor scoot type) and an artistic type. I had many people pose for my Minolta. It's tougher now, with work and family, to cross that invisible barrier. Yet, I enjoy photographing people. Not necessarily pretty people, but people who I find interesting. I will see where that leads.

I chuckled a bit to find that after two decades, I am picking up where I left off through photography. It is as if I am chasing shadows.

Night Ride

I took my Raleigh Passage out tonight to blow some of the winter dust off of it. I guess I'm crazy, but I really prefer the ride and handling of my other bikes, the ones I built from scratch, to the bike store polished Passage. There is no doubt that the comfort bike is smooth. It rides like a dream. The chain shifts cogs quickly and effortlessly. I guess I don't really like the posture I must assume on it.

As I rode, I thought about an email I received from Austin Haley's mother, Renee. I will cut and paste her update here.

"Since the horrible tragedy, we now have another son--Gabriel Jeremiah Haley. He is now 9 months old....our precious little miracle.

We are so blessed that Austin's name and story has still not been forgotten....even one year and seven months later. A third year college student, Chris Rogerson, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania sent us a letter a couple of weeks ago. In the letter, he stated that he wrote a music piece that will be played in an Orchestra on March 31, 2009. He titled it "Noble Pond." He invited us to Pennsylvania to listen to the college orchestra play the piece at that time. We feel honored and blessed that Austin is still being remembered.

We still live and relive what happened on August 3, 2007. Austin is still so dearly loved and missed beyond what words could possibly say. We are thankful, though, Austin's story is used in very important ways. For example, OMAG, an insurance company for many police stations in the state of Oklahoma, created a police training video in memory of our precious Austin. On the video, they had interviewed Jack and I to explain what happened. We appreciate this video being made, and hopefully it will encourage individuals to "think" before shooting, and know what is behind their target.

Jack and I often read comments made on the blogs, and we appreciate those of you who are still thinking about and praying for our family. We cope with the grief only through the grace of God. We are also in the process of writing a book that will hopefully one day be published. We pray the memory of Austin will live on forever, so Dalton, now 4 years old, and Gabriel, 10 months, will know who their big brother truly was....truly the best big brother they could have ever had!"

I can not imagine the inescapable grief and anguish of losing a child, especially to the errors of others. I can only admire the resolve and the faith of the Haley family. Thank you Renee.

Cycles of Life

I took the Raleigh Grand Prix out for the first time this spring. The last time I rode the Grand Prix was in November, a sad occasion. Winter was approaching, and while I know a Louisiana winter is insignificant by most standards, the shortening of the days and the wet cold can make the days bleak.

Today, the azaleas and hawthorne are beginning to bloom, and the evening air is a spicy bouquet, temperate and still. As I rode, I thought about the Zacarius video on transformation. I thought about Vivi, and Darla, Chester and Bear... and Cassie. I thought about the nurse at work who just today found out that she had passed her boards and become a registered nurse. I rode past a grove of magnificent cherry trees in full bloom, and recalled the cherry blossom season in Japan.

I have changed much since I left Atsugi Japan. Eighteen years have come and gone. Much has changed just since November. The days are getting longer, and soon I will again be riding to work in the morning light. It's often said that the only constant in life is change, but the rhythms of repeated cycles provides a pattern for the tapestry of our inexorable transformation.

An Agglomeration

Oblivious soccor moms lit up by cell phones in SUVs. Dangerous dachshunds on snap leashes. Arf araf arf araf arfa arf! A syncopated symphony of white dashes popping off the blacktop. A white reflector in the distance approaching, and a quick smile and hello as another cyclist becomes illuminated by my red blinkies.

I wasn't the only one out tonight on a bicycle. I'm not surprised, really.... The night was gorgeous. Dry. Unlike Louisiana. Just the right temperature to put on a T shirt and have the breeze wick the sweat from your head through your helmet vents. A sky glistening with stars and a route unencumbered by any objective other than the sheer enjoyment of being.

Another cyclist closes in on me, a homie in a black watch cap on a blue Murray mountain bike. A quick wave and a "What's up?" In the distance, three time trialers furiously churn away at their gears. With all of the wet and cold I had taken to the comfort of a dry vehicle for the past few months. I had been missing the wind on my face and the tight ache in my legs, and I didn't even realize it.

For a moment, I was embarrassed by my thrown together commuter bike, with it's array of flashing lights, refectors and kiddie bike handlebars. The British fenders and the gym basket zip tied to a book rack on the back made the whole affair appear to be an agglomeration of disparate parts.

But you know, that's me too. I'm an agglomeration of disparate experiences, from Hong Kong's Cat Street to Pensacola's beaches to Ayers Rock in the Northern Territory. My life has ranged from that of a boy to an artist, to a soldier and sailor, to a father, husband and nurse. I'm still evolving, and so is my life.

A coed pedals towards me, and a white smile flashes, "Good evening!" I wave back and turn for home. I'm comfortable with who I am now, and satisfied with the winding journey it took me to get here. I just need to get back on the bike and ride and enjoy it.

Colorful Ride

I took Ilsa out for a run this morning. The leaves were cascading all over the streets, making her a bit skittish. Twice we were approached by other dogs that were not contained, although neither was aggressive.

Ilsa did very well, she maintained her composure, and stayed right where she was supposed to. I'm proud of her.

Rained Out

This morning, as I rolled the commuter bike out into the darkness, I noticed the streets were wet. The air was so fresh and clean that it did not really matter. As I pedaled to work, I wondered what the weather might do. I knew an hour later when one of my co-workers came in drenched.

When we finished cases, I went to the waiting room to gaze out the window. The skies were dark, and sheets of rain pounded against the pane. The gray haired lady watching the weather Channel told me it wasn't going to let up. Great.

I arranged a ride home, and went back later to load the bike up on the rear of the Jeep. Call me a weiner. I'm a warm, dry weiner.

Walking Running the Dog

It warmed up some this afternoon, and Ilsa was joyous as I leashed her up and rolled the old Raleigh out for a ride. We did a double dipping of riding and running, and soon she was panting nicely.

I suppose we had both been missing our rides.

Dual Headlights

Last night as I looked over my bicycles, I realized that I had two Planet Bike headlights. One was on my commuter bike, and the other headlight was being swapped back and forth between other bicycles that I might happen to ride at night. I decided to attach both to the handlebars of the commuter bike.

Having two lights with one projecting to the roadway 15-20 feet ahead and the other 30-40 feet ahead helped brighten things up considerably. I might have to keep my spare on the commuter so it will always have two headlights.

Transcendence

It's been a tough weekend. Work began for me on Saturday morning at 6 AM. It was a series of difficult, stressful cases, worked with a skeleton crew dubbed the call team. I did have one break in which I published the AR piece between cases. I had hoped to publish a bit more, but it was not to be. The schedule was relentless. When I finally got home, I ate no supper. I collapsed on the couch in my scrubs lest I be called back again. Around ten o'clock, I sleepwalked to the bedroom and fell face down on the bed.

Then my wife woke me up to the horror of Vivi's death. I found Vivi laying in the street, in a pool of blood a block away in our neighborhood. Her skull was crushed, her back broken. I took her back home, and laid her out. I briefly had the insane notion of burying her in the darkness, but after I had gathered the shovel and tried to pick a grave site in the blackness, I realized the futility of it all. I called both hospitals to check the schedules for today, and both schedules were empty. Thankful of my good fortune, I resolved to bury her in the garden at first light.

I could not sleep, and since Sunday looked like a free day, I blogged assisted Ilsa with her blogging. Then, as the sun came up and my breath blew out in puffs of white mist, I labored in the cold to dig Vivi a grave while my family slept. I awoke my wife, and we lowered little Vivi to her rest.

I stripped down to my boxers, took a shower and crashed into immediate REM sleep on the sofa. Beep beep beep beep "Whaaat" beep beep beep "th'" beep beep beep "Hell?" beep beep beep beep beep! It was the first case of the day. The emergency room night staff had neglected to call it in, and Dr. Balogh was upset that there was nobody there to help him work. I looked at my watch. It was 7:15 AM. I had slept for about twenty minutes. I put on my scrubs and got in my car.

I was too exhausted to be pissed as I staggered across the hospital parking lot in the cold. Dr. Balogh was writing notes as I tapped his shoulder and said "So, I understand someone might have a job today huh?" He smiled. At least I wouldn't have to endure a doc angry with me this morning. He had discovered the root of the problem, a nurse who did not know how to schedule a case, and who had decided to do nothing rather than learn how.

The rest of the crew filtered in, and we set the case up in record time. We scrubbed in, and we got to work. I did not mention the events of last night to Dr. Balogh. He could tell I was tired for some reason. We talked about LSU getting beat by Alabama in Death Valley instead. Jealous-U had lost in overtime 27-21. Dr. Balogh let me know we had one other case at the other hospital. As soon as I could, I sent half the crew there to begin setting it up. Later, when the day's work abated to the beeper again, I drove back home bleary eyed. My sofa was waiting.

When I awoke, My wife and Little Darling were asleep. I needed to ride. Alone. I put Ilsa in the back yard (I checked the gate) and I rolled the Raleigh Grand Prix out into the crisp air. I wanted an uncomplicated bike. Nothing to think about, except me and the wind. With my beeper attached to the collar of my hoodie, I set out.

I began to ride aimlessly about the neighborhood. I had to stay relatively close to home in case I received another page. A physician's tolerance only goes so far. I wanted my response to be swift if needed. The choice of the Grand Prix as my steel steed was a good one. It glided quietly and with grace beneath me.

As I rode, I thought about the morning's cases. I thought about how the ward clerk had slipped me a note telling me LSU had lost last night. I don't follow college ball, but the physicians I work with do. It's always good to have the latest basic information. As I rode, I ventured farther and farther from my home base, feeling more and more free. Still, I studiously avoided one area of the neighborhood.

Finally, I made the turn towards the fatal intersection. To the bloodstained black top where automobiles still sped through a residential district in excess of 50 miles an hour. As their tires spun past my dog's dried blood on the pavement, I tentatively edged my front wheel closer. Not knowing what else to do, I snapped a photo, and then another, and I retreated from traffic. I was well aware that my fate in a collision with one of these self absorbed fools would be no better than little Vivi's.

As another speeding car ran over what remained of my dog splattered on the pavement, I felt a great anger rush to my throat. I felt an urge to stand over the crimson spot, to protect it, to raise my fist in defiance towards unrepentant monsters who kill loved ones and drive away as though nothing happened. But I did not. I made the sign of the cross and said a prayer instead. I prayed for little dogs who just want to run free in the night, and for the souls of those who would take a little girl's beloved puppy and not even stop to say "I'm sorry."

I rode past the blood on the pavement. There will be no wooden crosses at the scene of this accident. No wreaths, and no orange cones to slow traffic. Eventually the crimson stain will be washed from the pavement, but little Vivi will not be forgotten. A Cardigan Welsh Corgi is a special dog. Ilsa thought Vivi was her baby, and they wrestled constantly. Ilsa would roll over and let the short legged growler gnaw on her throat. Then they would play chase again.

Vivi was an imp, and the instigator of all the doggie pranks that occurred in our home. She was so happy to be with us. She had found her pack at last. Much to Darla's chagrin, Vivi herded her. An older Pembroke Welsh Corgi should not be herded by any dog, but Vivi was insistent. Of course, Little Darling will never forget the first dog that was truly hers, even if only for a short time.

My wife, too, is mourning the loss of the little grizzled creature that used to sit proudly beside her. Her grief is worse of all, having felt responsible and being the first to find Vivi as I slept last night.

I continued to ride with greater haste as the sun sunk towards the horizon. I was alone and one with the bike. I did not know what else to do. I had done all I could. Sometimes being the father is an elusive thing. Fathers are supposed to know the way in which to lead their families. I did not know which way to go, but I had been there when needed. Perhaps that will be good enough. This evening though, I rode my bike. I felt the freedom and life that Vivi once felt, but I did not ride for Vivi, and I did not ride for me. I rode for transcendence.

Frosty Ride

It was 42 degrees this morning as I left home on the commuter bike for work. I was bundled up in a hoodie, sweats and of course, my helmet. I wasn't nearly as bad as I had imagined, hardly the same as riding a motorcycle in the cold.

The ride home in the glorious 70 degree weather with a bluebird sky was well worth the morning in the cold.

Day Off

The Armstrong was my choice this morning to zip around town as the sun was rising. I got my miles in. Damn I'm glad I'm not on call this weekend.

I still have to take Ilsa for her ride, bag up some pistols and head for the range, and wash clothes. I almost don't know what to do with myself.

Saving

After what seemed like an interminable period of time on call, my stint finally ended this morning, and I was again able to bike to work. It's getting steadily cooler, and I want to enjoy the brisker temperatures before they drop beyond tolerance.

Many people don't understand what it means to be on call, and they are fortunate for that. Being on call means that you have a twenty minute window to get back to the hospital for emergency cases. Over time, I have learned not to wager whether or not I would be called back. I simply sit at home in my scrubs and either write or read. There is always a fair to good chance that I will be called back. I drive to work on those days. When a person's life hangs in the balance, you simply want to get there as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

Over the past four days I had to refill the tank on the XUV (Xavier Utility Vehicle). I was rather surprised to find that gasoline is still around $3.65. Better than I expected. Never the less, filling that tank was a reminder that I'm steadily increasing my ammunition budget by biking.

I'm seeing more and more people on bikes it seems, but my morning commute is still a solitary one with a world that belongs to me.

Biking With Bones

What dogs chose to take biking........
"You didn't expect me to leave it at home didja?"

Different Worlds

It's getting cooler, and the commute by bike both to and from work is becoming more and more pleasant. I especially enjoy my pre-dawn ride. The streets are empty, and the pavement seems to belong to me alone. Even the roving tomcats have bedded down in anticipation of the sunrise. Ambulances idle blissfully among hazes of diesel fumes while their inhabitants try not to appear to be snoozing inside.

Occasionally I will hear the solitary wail of a freight train's horn and hear the clattering of it's steel wheels on the rails as I approach the trestle. It's like a foreshadowing of what awaits me in the hustle and bustle of the hospital, only minutes ahead in my day. But as I weave through the streets past the storefronts, the granite pillars of state buildings and last night's litter from the dance halls, the streets are mine for a few moments more.

I lock the bike up, grab my bag and secure my lights. I cross the street and try to remember what was at the beginning of my schedule when I left yesterday. The automatic doors retract their condensate laden glass panels to allow me into the air conditioned environment of the hospital, and my world begins to heat up.

Moonlight Commute

A full moon illuminated the cloud filled sky this morning as I rode the commuter bike to work. Dead leaves came back to life and skittered across my path in an invigorating cool dry wind from the North. As I locked the bike in the moonlight, I felt fortunate to be riding in such conditions. I had hardly worked up a sweat in the brisk air.

Weird Ride

Daddy and I went out bike riding this morning and there was something in the air. I could feel it all night. Somethings coming, something big. It seems ominous, so I am keeping an extra watchful eye out.

Daddy is gathering up stuff again, and from the looks of things, I think another storm might be coming. We went down to the river and it had grass growing into the water. It looked a lot bigger too. The sky is dark, and the wind is blowing but it's not too bad.

Usually when Daddy takes me riding, we just go everywhere, but he seemed to be riding with a purpose today. We stopped to inspect a lot of trash and limbs piled up beside the curbs, and he took a look at every sewer grate we came across. I snorked them all really good and looked away to tell him nobody was in any of them. I don't really understand what's going on, but I suspect it is going to be big. Whatever it is, I wish it would go away.

Running Late

5:15. I woke up late this morning. I bailed out of bed and into my riding togs and was out the door without breakfast or a shave. I barely had time to activate the blinkies on the back of the bike, and I hit the constant beam on the headlight as I rounded the first curve towards work.

It was a hard ride, but the streets were deserted. Through the darkness, the wail of a slow moving freight train's horn warned me that I had better spin faster and get across the tracks several blocks ahead, before I found myself wailing on the wrong side of the tracks at the futility of my previous efforts. hobbled across the tracks carrying the bike, remounted and sped on. Swerving into the parking garage and skidding up to the stairwell I lock the bike to, I had the commuter chained down and stripped of easily detachable accessories in record time.

I was still sweating into my paper scrub cap as I began the first case. It was a long day, and I was looking forward to a leisurely ride home. It came about 4:00PM. I showered off again, sat down to the computer and clicked my way over to BSNYC. Hmmmmmmmmm.

Simple Pleasures

It was dark this morning as I glided into the parking garage, with my blinkies flashing as the commuter bike silently sliced through the morning air. I did not know it yet, but a long hard day awaited me at work. Cases started at 0630, and they did not stop until 1720. I felt fortunate to cram some club sandwich into my yap.

The air was cool from the overcast skies as I finally walked out of the hospital with my bike helmet swinging expectantly. Many people, perhaps,would look forward to the air conditioned comfort of their automobile, and a drive home in solitude with relaxing music or maybe talk radio. I looked forward to straddling my black and white beater bike and saying adios as I pedaled into the evening.

I'm kind of surprised that I would miss biking and that I would actually look forward to it after a hard day. I made no detours, I did not stop for ice cream or donuts. I just rode home. And I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Back to Normal

The neighborhood buzzed with the tree chomping growls of chain saws as Ilsa and I biked around this afternoon. Over the past six rain drenched days I had not biked at all, and I was missing it. Ilsa wanted to run beside me even more. The skies still looked like they might open up, but they had held all day. We spent an hour or so riding around asessing the clean-up efforts going on. The streets were clear of the limbs, and only smaller debris remained.

Except for a few still in the hospital, the last of the evacuees are headed home now. Neighbors were out and about, waving and chatting with one another. I am glad of it. I'm tired of storm blogging, and rather drained from it all. I'm looking forward to some recuperative time this weekend. Maybe I'll grill a steak and celebrate Labor Day.