Obscure Facts About "The Big Green"

    I love The Big Green, one of those movies I grew up watching. Part of the fun of memorizing dialogue and camera-angle changes and everything else is that then you can spend the movie searching for hidden little background details, some of which I've listed here.

     The population of Elma, Texas, was 2,367 when the welcome sign was first installed. As the town got smaller, two other figures were spray-painted on below that number and then crossed out, the current number is somewhere around 923 residents. There is no such town in existence. Tom tracks down Juan and his mom in Garrettville, which doesn't exist, either. Elma is part of Lane County, which is also fictional. 

     The local high school's teams were known as the Armadillos, according to the billboard Anna Montgomery drives by off Route 49 in the beginning. Elma High won 3A football state titles in 1968, 1969, 1974, 1975 and 1976.

     The bag of Cheetos the birds eat off the boys is Super Sized, and the Cheetos are the puffed kind.

     Anna's last name is Montgomery, Tom's last name is Palmer, and then the full names of the kids are Evan Schiff, Larry Musgrove, Jeffrey Luttrell, Newt Shaw, Kate Douglas, Juan Morales, Tak Yomato, Nick Anderssen, Sophia Convertino, Polly Nielson and Sue and Lou Gates.
     Kate's alcoholic dad is Ed, Larry's bartender father is Cookie and Polly's mom is Brenda, who is married to Darius.

     Sue and Lou have asthma, Tak can burp the ABCs, Kate's parents are divorced and Larry's dad has a job. These are all the responses we know of to Anna's questioning what makes each of the kids special once she meets them on the first day of school. Kate also whittles on her desk with a huge pocketknife(three times), and the bench outside Polly's mom's gas station.

     In the scene where we first meet Sheriff Tom, there's a flier on the wall that says the "Cowboy's Professional Rodeo Association Finals" will be held somewhere unreadable, the date is hard to read, but appears to be December 13, 1996. Nobody caught the misplaced apostrophe? And there would be a flier posted for something that will happen a whole year away?

     Anna is left-handed, because when Tom meets her while she's on her run, her watch is on her right wrist, and also when she's wearing a different watch while teaching math. (Kate is also left-handed, as seen in when talking about being a cashier at the Piggly-Wiggly.)

     Unleaded gasoline was selling for 98 cents a gallon at the Texaco station, regular gasoline was $1.15 a gallon. A black-and-white two-year-old dog named Bubba is lost, according to the sign on the door, there's a reward out for him. There's also an upcoming BBQ supper for the volunteer fire department on Saturday the 9th at the high school, $5 a plate.

     The principal mispronounces Juan's name when introducing him, she says it "Joo-wan More-ray-leese." Larry calls geography class "geology" class.

     Tom describes soccer to Newt as "kind of like kickball, mixed with that-there hockey."

     Anna drives a maroon Mercedes convertible, license-plate number 344-570, and it has two bumper stickers on the back. Tom's patrol car has a license-plate number of 530-743. 

     Besides the Big Green(green/white jerseys) and the Knights(black/silver), other teams in the league include the Terminators(royal blue/white), the Ninjas(white/black/red), the Walking Dead(red/white), the Buccaneers(red/black), and the Vikings(orange/white).

     I love all the shots from ground level during the games, following along behind the ball. My favorite line of all time about team spirit is where Sophia yells back at the Knights taunting the group, "We're not the Nothings from Nowhere! We're the Elma Nothings!"

     In the team-naming scene, Larry sums up Tom's job as "giving out speeding tickets and cleaning up dead animals off the highway." Coach Anna's four areas of practice are Fitness, Tactics, Technique and Game Psychology. Her first running session lasts for twelve minutes.

     One of the things Anna teaches in class is how to use the proper editing symbols for needed capitalization, period insertion, comma insertion, adding something in later you forgot to include, and adding punctuation marks.

     When scoring on Larry in practice, Juan first knees the ball three times, then heads it twenty-two times in a row before shooting.

     In the rain-soccer scene(one of my favorite montages in all cinematic history), there's a black Lab that decides to join in on the fun, so it's not just Ernie the goat that plays the game!

     Besides Ernie the Goat(owned by Polly), that black Lab in the rain game, and the five cows that get loose, there's a gigantic German shepherd-looking dog on the truck in the junkyard when Tom recruits Newt, and some type of sheepdog in Larry's dad's bar. Could any of those dogs be the missing Bubba? 

     Jersey numbers for the team: 0 Larry, 2-A Sue, 2-B Lou, 4 Evan, 8 Nick,  9 Sophia, 10 Juan,  11 Jeffrey, 12 Polly, 13 Kate, 14 Tak, 85 Newt.

     The Big Green's regular season record is 7-2-1 according to the chalk marks, but they pick up another win somewhere before the title game, as the announcer says their record is 8-2-1. Maybe there were semifinal games played?

     Jay Huffer's normal job is an auditor for the IRS. (Can the guy get any less-likable?) Also, Larry's dad's bar has a Christmas tree in the back corner by the pool table.

     One of the cars sitting around the Morales' trailer park is a silver Pontiac Firebird.

     The Big Green score fourteen goals that we see during the movie. During the shootout, the order chosen is Juan, Kate, Nick, and Sophia, with Newt volunteering to take the last shot. Juan sinks his kick into the low left corner. Kate nails her shot chest-high left-center, Sophia crushes the ball into the high left corner.  Nick's ball sails just over the top bar right of center. And finally, Newt, of course, wins the game on the final kick.

     We don't really know much of who plays where position-wise, other than Larry is goalie(obviously), Juan is mentioned as center halfback, and based on her relentless pesky ball-swiping attempts, Polly is a defender.

     Not only did the kids win the Austin Junior Division league during Anna's time in the teaching exchange program, but their test scores rose all the way to fourth-highest in the whole state.

Go With the Flow

     Another story based off our SWAT skits.

“Here you go, Mary, here’s today’s mail.” Frank the mailman said, handing her the letters and bills of the day, plus several random magazines that came periodically without reason.

“Thanks, Frank. Oh, this is for you.” she answered, taking the mail and handing him a plastic container.

“Um…thank you, I think. What is it?”

“Some cookies and fudge, just call it a sort of thank-you present for your good work over the year. And with the weather getting colder, we’ve just felt like baking a lot, so…” Mary shrugged with a smile.

“Okay. Thanks. This wouldn’t be any….what do you call it, Christian charity, would it?” Frank asked with suspicion.

“Some people think of it that way, but it’s just cookies.” she replied carefully.

“Well, whatever you want to call it.” He rolled his Jeep Cherokee down to the next house.

  Mary turned back inside, pausing to let Raindrop outside before stepping in. “Why can’t you be more like your mother?” she directed this comment to the frolicking black-and-white dog, knowing she’d ask to come back inside at the most inopportune time.

“Because…eh….well. Isn’t it obvious?” Janie tried to answer this without crossing the line, mistakingly thinking the question was meant for her.

“I was talking to the dog.”

“Oh.”

“Guys! Be quiet! And grab the phone. We’ve got a chance to win tickets to Go With the Flow.”  Pete hissed.

“Really?!” Mary flew to the house phone.

“Yeah, K95. They’re gonna have Quentin Gage and Candy Karpinski promoting their new movie, and even the Killer from Slice and Dice. Maddie was telling me about it.”

Janie whipped her phone from her jeans and began dialing the radio station’s number.

Tense pause.

“Hey! It’s ringing.” Pete said hopefully.

His mom and sister watched anxiously.

“Hi, you’ve reached K95, this is Jim. You’re caller number ten; which means you’ll get a chance to play for tickets to Go With the Flow. You ready?”

“Uh, yes; yes, I am.” He made frantic motions to turn on the radio, Janie vaulted across the room and flicked it on.

“Okay, what’s your name, and where are you from?”  Jim the radio host asked. 

“Pete Morgan, and I’m from Ritter Hill.”  

“Mmkayy….I’m gonna put you on hold for a minute, and then when these songs are over we’ll play for the tickets, all right?”

“Okay.”

“Can you believe this?” he mouthed. They shook their heads.

“Come on, bro…you got this.” Janie breathed.

“Oh, I hope you win! That’d be so awesome…” Mary squealed.

Pete raised an eyebrow and made a “shh” gesture.

“MOM!” Janie snapped, exasperated.

“Hello, folks, we’ve got Pete from Ritter Hill today, he’ll be playing for tickets to go see an upcoming episode of the Go With the Flow game show.” Jim told the radio audience. “Pete, you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Okay, here’s the plan. We’ll ask you four questions, and you have to answer them all in ten seconds, but you have to answer them wrong, got it?” Jim’s co-host Kelly asked.

“Okay, I think I got it,” he nodded.

“Okay, then. Time will start when I finish reading the first question.”

Mary and Janie, huddled by the radio, looked at each other, wondering what could be so hard about this. Wasn’t there usually a catch to these radio and TV call-in contests?

“Here we go….How many months are in a year?” Jim asked.

“Four.” Pete replied immediately.

Mary and Janie’s jaws dropped. “How did he even…”

“What’s the opposite of ‘big’?” Kelly asked.

“Giant.” Pete answered promptly.

Mary shook her head.

“What planet do we live on?” Kelly asked again.

“Mars.”

A dishtowel was being furiously wrung by an agitated Mary.

“What river runs through Tulsa?” Jim asked the final question.

Pete’s reply didn’t come instantly, there was a fraction of a second of silence. Don’t say Arkansas, he thought to himself. “The…Missouri.” That is a real river, isn’t it?

Clapping could be heard from the radio station. “You just won yourself four tickets to go see a taping of Go With the Flow, man!” Jim congratulated. “Which station do you spell country with?”

“It’s spelled K95.5 FM.” Pete grinned.

Some behind-the-scenes sounds, the radio started playing Brad Paisley’s “Welcome to the Future”, then Kelly spoke up again. Janie turned the radio off.

“Okay, I just need to get your information, so we’ll know who to hold the tickets for, and then you can just come by the station and pick ‘em up, okay?”

After a few more minutes, he hung up.

“I don’t even believe it…” Janie was shaking her head, grinning.

“That was AWESOME, Pete! Wasn’t it, Yahoo?!” Mary danced their newest of the pack, a brown mixed-breed Lab, around in a circle. He didn’t think much of the dancing lesson.

“No way I could have done that, answering all those questions wrong in that short of time.”

“Me neither!” Janie agreed.

He shrugged. “Well…”

“Guess it doesn’t hurt to be dating the cousin of a game-show host, huh, son?” George said later that night once he’d gotten home from work.

“DaaaAAAddd….it’s not….We’re not dating right now. Anymore.” He coughed, looking to Janie for rescue.

“Dad, Pete and Maddie never were officially going out. With TJ, that kinda…well. And it’s not like that had anything to do with him winning the tickets.”

“Well, actually, she told me what day and time K95 would be running the contest…”

“Whatever you want to call it, like I said, it doesn’t hurt.” George said.

Pete and Janie rolled their eyes and bolted out of the room as quickly as they could.

“They weren’t ‘officially’ going out? What’s that supposed to mean? How is it ‘official’, then?” George asked his wife in a moment of 21st century-father confusion.  

Mary merely smiled to herself as she cleaned up the table from dinner.

“I think it means you’re being too nosy, dear.”

  

They were in Kansas City, the show was traveling around the country while the building the permanent set was in was undergoing a remodel, and producers thought taking it around the country might boost ratings. George had to work, but the rest of the family was there in the audience, along with Maddie Kojak, Pete’s one-time girlfriend and a close collaborator with Janie on different theatrical pursuits. She was also the cousin of the show’s host, Matt, and occasionally filled in for him when necessary.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here!” Mary exclaimed wonderingly for what must have been at least the nineteenth time that day. “Well, Mom…we are.” Janie said, giggling nervously. “That’s right, Rapunzel.” agreed Pete. She looked at him. “That was exactly the same tone as when Rapunzel says ‘That’s the funny thing about birthdays; they’re kind of an annual thing.’ in Tangled.” “Got it now.”

“Nice work, Snoopy.” Maddie said, high-fiving him. “Come on, guys, follow me.”

“But they’re about to start filming soon.”

She grinned. “It’s cool, don’t worry about it. We’ll be back in plenty of time.”

They followed her, rather uncertainly at first. Maddie confidently took a left into a space that clearly didn’t exist before, nodded at one of the security guys and held up a lanyard. “It’s okay, Ricardo, they’re with me. Do y’all have a date for the wedding set by now?”

“Hey, Miss Maddie, good to see you again. Wasn’t expecting to, though-“ “Just as audience member today.”

“Oh, I see.” (To the Morgans) “Enjoy your tour!” (To Maddie) “April 28th, kinda worried. Lauren is getting a little obsessed with the details.”

“It’s a girl thing. You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

They continued on, stopping at a cubicle with a mirror and a bunch of makeup. “Knock knock,” Maddie said brightly.

A man in a suit jacket and dressy Levi’s entered from somewhere. “Hey, Madd! How you doing?!” He gave her a bear hug. He also whispered something into her ear. “We ran into some trouble…gonna have to pick somebody from the audience.” “Think I can handle that.” she whispered back.

“I’m doing great,” she said in a normal tone. “Came up here with some friends, thought I’d surprise ‘em with the backstage look around. You mind?”

“Course not. Come on in, you guys.”

“Is that really….?” Janie hissed in Pete’s ear. “I think, yes.” He hissed back.

“I’m Matt, nice to meet you guys.”

Handshakes and introductions all around.

“Can I….could I have a picture with you?” Mary asked nervously. “This is, like, my favorite game show of all time.”

“Wow, even more than Jeopardy? I’m impressed.” Matt said. “Of course I don’t mind.” (To someone in the corridor.) “Hey, Stephen, can you snap a few pics for us? Friends of Maddie’s.”

“Thanks so much, it was great to meet you.” They all were slightly in shock as they left.

“Hey, Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“I finally talked Mom into giving you Deb’s fudge pecan pie recipe.”

“No. Way. Seriously?”

“Yep. Here it is.” She handed him the recipe, stored from somewhere in her purse. “Could I pick up those autographs for them that I asked for?”

“Sure can…they’re right here.” He pulled them from a drawer, along with a special oversize index card embossed with the official silver and lime green show logo and sticky putty on one side. She tucked them into her purse. “Thanks, I’ll see ya soon.”

Maddie quickly caught up to the others and they hurried back to their seats, dodging cameras and stage lights along the way, cables were strewn all over the floor, they looked highly trippable to the Morgans.

Eventually the lights came on, cameras were positioned right, the audience silenced, and a big flashing red sign marked “ON AIR” started blinking.

Matt Kojak strolled confidently onto the stage, greeting the camera with a grin and nod. The audience went wild. “Thank you, thank you, everyone! Welcome to Go With the Flow! It’s the game show where everyone’s a winner. (As long as they agree.) I’m your host, Matt Kojak, and today’s show is a special celebrity edition, with all winnings going to local charities.”

The crowd approved this statement.

“So, with that out of the way, let’s meet our contestants! You’ll recognize our first guest as Colin Thayer from the blockbuster hit movie Return to Titanic,  widely regarded by many magazines as one of the hottest young men alive – give a warm welcome to Quentin Gage!”

The women watching, who composed most of the audience, went into hysterics.

“Nice, huh?” Maddie nudged Janie, grinning. Except she wasn’t there…

“Uh, Janie…?”

She was racing up to the stage screaming, “OH MY GOSH, IT’S QUENTIN!!!” and locked herself in a death grip on one leg. Matt frowned, and nodded at Rebecca the security guard to get her off. “No, no! I LOVE YOUUU, QUENTIN!!!!!!” as she was dragged away.

“Crap…” Pete muttered, watching the scene.

 “Well, she sure thought you were looking good today, Quentin. Welcome to the show.” Matt smoothly snapped back into polished TV personality mode.

“I always look good.” The actor replied with careless flair. Most of the women swooned. Those who didn’t loudly voiced their agreement.

Matt smiled blandly. “Of course.”

“Let’s meet our next contestant,” he continued. “She’s an…international TV movie star, everybody’s dream girl, Candy Karpinski!”

Now the men in the audience loudly voiced their approval.

Candy waltzed into her seat in the row and sat down.

“Thanks for taking part in our show, Candy. What charity are you going to donate your winnings to today?”

She reflected an instant, then declared, “Women today are not treated with respect today, Matt, so I want to combat that by giving my money to a shelter for battered women.”

Quentin, and Matt, and most of the men in the audience merely stared at her.

“Pete!” Maddie smacked him lightly on the head.

            “Matt, are you listening to me?” Candy sounded irritated.

“Actually, I have no idea what you just said. But you looked great saying it.”

Candy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, disgusted.

“But that sounds like a great cause, don’t you think so, Quentin?”

Still ogling her, the actor replied “Whatever, man.”

“Okay…” Matt motioned for him to move to the end chair, to give her some space.

“Let’s meet our third contestant. He’s known the world over, even though no one has ever seen his face – please welcome the Killer from Slice and Dice!”

Loud applause, mostly from the younger people.

Two terrified teens, one of which was Janie, raced across the stage screaming. In their wake came a figure clad in black robes and a cowl with a hideous skull-like blood-red tattoo covering his face, waving a machete around. Janie almost plowed into Matt in her hurry to escape. He stepped in front of the masked figure.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! There’ll be plenty of time for that after the show. For now, let’s win some money for charity, okay? Just sit down right there…” he motioned to the seat between Quentin and Candy.

“Our final guest, Barney the Purple Dinosaur, couldn’t be here today because we discovered he wasn’t famous anymore.” Loud groans, as well as some chuckles, from the audience. Somebody hollered, “Say it ain’t so!”

Matt winced, sharing their pain. “Yes, I’m afraid it’s true…so, that means we’ll have to find a fourth contestant. Reach under your seat, and if you’ve got an index card taped there, then you’re our lucky fourth contestant!”

Most heads in the audience disappeared as people ducked to see if they might be the person.

“AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!” Mary squealed. “That’s me, that’s me!!!!!!!”

The host grinned. “Well, come on down! You’re about to Go With the Flow!”

Mary raced down there excitedly, Pete reveled in his mother’s joy. Beside him, Maddie grinned. “You did not….” he started to say.

“Guilty. But don’t you dare tell.”

“What’s your name, and where are you from?” Matt asked the randomly-selected audience contestant.

“Um…my name is Mary, and I’m from Tulsa, Oklahoma.”

“Okay, Mary from Tulsa, do you know the rules to Go With the Flow?” Matt asked.

“Of course she does.” Pete snorted.

Blank stare from Mary, she froze. Candy was feeling sorry for her, recalling the myriad of auditions she’d flunked. Quentin was wondering where to get a good burger after the show, and the actor behind the Killer’s mask was trying to figure out how he wound up doing this.

“Uh, Matt…..I know the rules, I love this show, but with all the excitement….they disappeared.”

“Mom?” Pete did a double take.

“Okay, that’s all right, sometimes we can just get a little rattled,” Matt said swiftly. “It’s really simple; I ask a question, and the person who controls the board answers. Then the rest of you say whether you agree or not. If you all go with the flow and agree, then you win $500 for charity! How’s that sound?”

“Sounds great.”

“And what charity are you going to donate your winnings to today?”

Mary thought a second. “I’ll donate them to Grace Bible Church in Tulsa.”

“Okay, I’m sure they could use the money and put it to good use.” The audience chuckled at Matt’s flippant remark.

“You’ll get the first question,” he continued, looking at Mary. “Say you come across someone lying hurt and bleeding on the road. What would you do?”

“What is ‘I would help them’?”

“Wrong show.” More giggles from the crowd. “But that’s a good answer, though. How about you, Quentin?”

“Me too, Bob. For sure.”

“My name is Matt. Candy?”

“Of course I would help them.” Candy replied charmingly.

“Killer?”

The Killer thought a minute, shrugged, then gave a thumbs-up sign.

“Way to go with the flow! Looks like we’ve just won $500 for charity.” The audience went wild.

“Next question: Quentin, you’re at a huge Hollywood party with all your friends and entourage and hangers-on and paparazzi and everything, and there’s several producers you want to impress there, too. Somebody at the party offers you some marijuana. What do you do?”

The star thought a minute. “Well, it’s a little hard to imagine a party where everyone’s not trying to impress me, but I’m an actor, so I’ll try.”

“Good idea,” Matt dropped dryly.

“I’d have to say that I would smoke that joint, and definitely inhale and enjoy it.”

“Mmkayy…there’s his answer. What do you say, Candy?”

“…I guess so. I mean, it’s for charity, right?”

Matt shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want to believe. Killer?”

The Killer held a make-believe joint up to his lips and took a big drag. The crowd went wild.

“Looks like everybody else is going with the flow, so it’s up to you.” Matt said to Mary.

“No, I wouldn’t do that! It’s bad for you. And it’s illegal!”

Everyone looked startled. Matt frowned.

“That – that’s going against the flow. No money awarded for that one…You’re sure you understand the rules?”

“Yes, I understand.” Mary answered composedly.

“All right…let’s try again. Candy, you’re offered the lead role in a major upcoming movie, but if you accept the part, you’ll have to do several steamy love scenes. Will you do it?”

With the slightest twinge of irony, she said, “I’m assuming it’s essential to the plot of the movie.”

“Always seems to be, doesn’t it?” the host fired back quickly, with seeming perfect seriousness.

“You’re right. Sure, I’ll do it.”

“How ‘bout you, Quent? I can call you Quent, right?”

“No.”

“Okay, sorry, Quentin.”

“I pardon you.” (Pause) “What was the question?”

“Would you do a steamy love scene?” Matt was thinking to himself that being a game-show host wasn’t always what it seemed like it was cracked up to be. Maddie was feeling grateful that this situation didn’t come up on a day when she was hosting.

“Sure thing, Pat.” Quentin replied carelessly.

“It’s Matt. Killer?”

The Killer jumped up and started to disrobe. Matt leaped in front of him, hiding the scene from the cameras.

“Killer, stop! This is a family show! And we don’t want to get the FCC involved, that would be bad for everybody. And so…just, this isn’t the place.”

The Killer nodded and meekly sat back down.

“Well, would you do it?” Matt quickly got things back on track, directing the question to Mary.

She looked shocked. “No way!!!”

Now Matt looked shocked. “She…she did it again, folks. You’re still going against the flow. No money awarded – again.”

“How stupid can you be?” Quentin asked angrily.

“Just go with the flow! It’s for charity.” Candy pleaded.

“Okay, everyone, I’m sure we can all agree on this one. For the Killer; if you were guaranteed that nobody would catch you, would you murder a complete stranger for a million dollars?”

The Killer brandished his machete and swung it across his throat. Mary scooted her chair a couple inches in the other direction.

“Who am I kidding? He’d do it for free.” Matt tossed this aside to the audience. They chuckled in appreciation. “Quentin?”

“Sure, it’s just one person.”

Matt frowned. This show really was not going according to plan today. “Okay…that’s a little scary, but we’ll accept it. Candy?”

“I’d kill ‘em and then give the money to charity.”

“How sweet. Okay, Mary, it’s up to you; Will you go with the flow?”

“You people are insane! No, I would not kill a random stranger.”

The Killer brandished his knife and moved towards Mary. Matt leaped forwards again to stop him from inflicting any real damage.

“No murders on the show! That’s not allowed, either!”

The Killer stormed offstage.

“This is the lamest thing I’ve ever done! I’m firing my publicist.” Quentin fumed, stalking away.

“We hardly have any money for charity. How can you be so heartless?” Candy implored, almost in tears.

“Well…you’ve kind of ruined the show today. What do you have to say for yourself?” Matt asked Mary.

She bit her lip, then said, “…I guess sometimes you just gotta do the right thing and stand up against the flow sometimes.”

“Well….whatever helps you sleep at night. Sorry for the show today, folks; hopefully we’ll someone more willing to go with the flow tomorrow. Until then, I’m Matt Kojak, signing off.”

The blinking red “ON AIR” sign shut off, leaving the studio audience rather stunned. 

Just a Big Push

This is an adaptation of one of the skits that a drama ministry I was involved with did. We were called SWAT(Students With a Testimony) and went around to different churches and places around the area. 

Imagine, if you will, an ordinary family in eastern Oklahoma, though they could really live anywhere in the country. Almost remarkable in their ordinariness; for that happens so little nowadays…George met Mary just after college, they got married and have stayed together for a little more than twenty years. It wasn’t perfect, of course, and at times things didn’t go too smoothly, but overall they tolerated each other’s quirks reasonably well, things worked out nicely. They had two children, daughter Janie and son Pete, both of whom were now teenagers who insulted each other constantly and were typically disgusted and embarrassed by their parents’ ways of doing things. But they all had a strong sense of family, and that was the glue that kept them together and ruled the day. That loyalty didn’t prevent dysfunction, however – Most people they knew would point to them as a family that was great to be around, but don’t copy their parenting style or anything. But it worked for them.

One of the main rules, probably the main one; could be summed up by this phrase, coined by Janie one day: “The basic theme of our road trips is like, once we get there, you ask, ‘…But did we die?’ And that pretty much sums up everything.” Almost anything went – which, actually, explains a lot…like the menagerie of animals, or the spur-of-the-moment musicals through Wal-Mart. They were very experienced at improv.

Anyway, they lived in a rather ordinary house in the middle of the smallish community called Ritter Hill. It had a basement, which was unusual, and the place was generally strewn about with books of every description. Neighbors were friendly, but mostly kept their distance, besides Mrs. Sylvia Bird, an energetic, enthusiastic busybody who was extremely involved with her church’s activities; and That Helpful Guy, nobody could remember his name(was it Don?), but he usually had just the right tools for fixing a broken sink or starting the car or whatever else might be needed. 

They spent most of their time in that basement, there was a ping pong table in one corner, a pool table in the other, and then several couches and chairs and stuff. Heated table tennis battles could ensue, complete with smashed lips and stinging kneecaps. And one of Pete’s friends once broke his thumb by mistake while playing.

George needed a car, the old one was wearing out, and Jane and Pete’s was falling apart, so it was time to find something new. So….well, I’ll let him tell the story.

I was at the used car dealership, dealing with one of my least favorite people on the planet, Bill Vann. He is just…such a used-car salesman. And he is so hard to bargain with. But this time I had a plan, and I’d clued Mary and the kids in on it. I was hoping to find the cheapest gas-saver I could come across, assuming it still worked. (Being Bill….I wasn’t so sure. Had lots of experience with his lemons.) He came along up beside me.

“LOOKING AT BUYING A NEW CAR TODAY?!”

I stepped back, couldn’t help it. “Well, yes. Yes, I am. Maybe you could help me find what I’m looking for.”

He looked flattered, and boomed on. “Of COURSE, George! That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?! Yes, you look like the type of customer searching for a sporty new pickup, am I right? Now, this would be for you, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, not quite…it’s kind of for me, but –“

“Oh, well, OF COURSE! It’s for your wife, Miriam, isn’t it?! Or is the kids, Jenny and…Piper?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s Mary. Mary, Janie and Pete. I was actually looking more along the lines of a gas-sipper, if you have anything like that. In reasonable condition, of course.”

“Yes, yes. There are some right over here this way…” He grimaced slightly, guiding me along towards his somewhat-more-reputable offerings, tucked away into the back corner of the lot.

“What could you tell me about this one?” I pointed to an old Rabbit, it looked to be in one piece.

“WELL, you OBVIOUSLY know a GREAT DEAL when you see one! This 1982 Volkswagen Rabbit is very reasonably priced, doesn’t use much gas at all. And would you take a look at that upholstery?!” (I was. It was a hideous reddish-mauve color, looked like pleather. Quite loud and ugly.) “Uh-huh…” I said in acknowledgement.

“The color is VERY popular this year, and take a listen to this horn!” He honked the horn, it sounded something like “Eenk, eenk!” “Hmm….” I nodded appreciatively. (The interior, like I said, was a disastrous shade of depressing 70’s crimson, and the outside was blindingly orange, of a rather sickening color. Made you want to throw up just looking at it.)  

“Isn’t that just a GRREAT horn?! WHAT a horn. Any man would be PROUD to park this in HIS OWN DRIVEWAY, eh, George?! What do you say?”

“Hmm…” I again nodded appreciatively, considering. If I agreed, he’d be sure to knock the price down to something extremely reasonable, and then I’d have enough to pay That Helpful Guy to fix all the broken parts. And it looked hideous, for sure. More so than I intended, but…it would run well. And there were plenty of worse-looking cars out there, right? The important part was that it got you where you wanted to go. They’d understand.

There. I won this time, and wouldn’t have to deal with him again for several years, hopefully. So I drove it home and left the blue Olds Intrigue at the Auto Zone near the dealership, I’d pick it up later.

I park it in the driveway, then get out and push it the rest of the way up nearby to the garage door.

“Mary! Kids! Look what the old man brought home!”

(Interrupting here, it was mostly a typical Saturday at home. This is what was going on inside.)

“Twisss-TER….” Mary was using that “you are so in trouble, dog” tone. The blonde beagle/Lhasa Apso mix scurried off the couch and went to hide under the kitchen table. “Whatcha watching?” she asked Janie.

“Return to Titanic.”

 “Again?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“No reason…it’s just, like, the ninth time you’ve seen it.”

“Wellll…..yeahh….” her daughter agreed. She gestured at the screen, where Quentin Gage was looking ruggedly handsome with his “I-haven’t-bathed-with-soap-in-eight-days-yet-I-still-look-perfect” hair all styled and scruffily well-trimmed beard, gazing soulfully in a masculine way while looking way off into the distance, as the ocean-specializing archeologist Colin Thayer. “He’s just….I love his acting. And he’s hot!”

“Okay, Janie, if you say so…” Mary rolled her eyes, thinking back to when she was a teenager and had a massive crush on Cary Elwes. “My show’s about on, can you pause it for a while and finish later?”

“It’s a DVD, not a VHS tape; you can’t just pause it and return immediately where you were.” Janie snorted, but complied.

The intro music for Mary‘s favorite game show, Go With the Flow, could be heard as Janie looked to see what Pete was doing.

“You’re…what the heck are you doing, anyway?”

“Barking “Jingle Bells” with Sleet and reading this story in the paper about Candy Karpinski.”

She frowned. “Back up….barking “Jingle Bells”…?”

“Yeah…I was bored.”

“That’s when you meow songs, not bark them. Anyway; what’s the story about?”

“Well, it says that she’s got a new movie coming out soon in a couple months, called Haley’s Company, and that guy you like is supposed to be in it, too.”

“SERIOUSLY? We are GOING to this one.”

“I know, right? Anyway, what’d you come in here for?”

“Ping pong?”

“You’re goin’ down.”

They’d barely gotten started when George yelled, “Mary! Kids! Look what the old man brought home!” 

They came running, then stopped abruptly at the door. “I hope it’s not another stray dog…we’ve already got four.” Mary moaned.

“I hope it’s not another box of week-old doughnuts. My teeth still hurt from the last ones.” Janie rolled her eyes.

“I know, those were terrible for our braces,” Pete agreed.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Maybe it’s some more fireworks? I still don’t know how Dad didn’t know Black Cats were illegal inside city limits…”

“Welll….let’s go see what adventure your father’s brought home today,” Mary said firmly(and also rather pathetically).

“Do we have to?”

“I can’t wait…”

So they came outside and looked at the new(old) car. “A new car!” Mary said faintly brightly. The kids echoed, sounding less-than-pleased. They scowled at each other behind Mary’s back, I pretended I didn’t see. They needed to be embarrassed sometimes, it’d do them good.

“Oh, George….it’s…beautiful. Can we go for a ride?”

“Sure!” I waved them in. “Hop on in!”

So they hopped in, Mary driving, kids in the back, they were busy elbowing each other. I rapped on the back window to get them to quit, so they settled into merely glaring holes through each other by looking in opposite directions out the window. Then I pushed the car around the block, showing it off. We were getting plenty of strange looks, we’d gone about around the block about three times when Mrs. Bird waved hello. She’s…a character. Friendly, but unusual. And very very very involved in the goings-on at her church.

“Howdy, neighbors! How are y’all liking your new car?”

“Oh, it’s tremendous,” I said. “Look at that upholstery, and get an eyeful of this color, oh, yes! Listen to this horn.” (I ran around to the front, reached in and punched the horn a couple times. Eenk, eenk!) “But I do find it sort of exhausting…it goes downhill beautifully, but if there’s even the slightest rise in the pavement, I find myself panting and struggling and groaning. It’s very difficult to push it uphill.”

“Wow. You really do have a problem there, all right.” Mrs. Bird was starting in one of her speeches. Mary and the kids slunk back towards the house, can’t really say I blamed them. “Well, my friend, you certainly do look like you could need some help! But I think I’ve got some good news for you. Ya know, at our church we’re having a conference this week, and our speaking is fixin’ to talk about the very subject you need to hear: ‘How To Push a Car Successfully!’ On Monday night he’s going to show us how to push with our right shoulder.” (She indicated which was the right shoulder.) “And Tuesday night he’ll illustrate the techniques of pushing with our left shoulder.” (She again pointed out which was the left shoulder.) I nodded along in agreement.

“On Wednesday night we’ll have a slideshow and an overhead projector(I immediately thought of “The Song of the Cebu”, couldn’t help it.) “to show us how to really get our backs into the work and push! On Thursday night he’s got committees and workshops organized that will all help us push more effectively, and on Friday night there’s gonna be a great dedication service where we’ll all come down to the front and commit ourselves anew to the work of pushing cars! It’s gonaa be great. Come on out every night next week, and learn all there is to know about how to push a car successfully!”

She couldn’t be serious…could she? Why on Earth would there be an actual conference on car-pushing? And if there was, why would a church be putting it on? Would they find some way to tie a message into that somehow?

All I said was, “Well, um…thanks. That sounds like it may be just what I need.”

“Great! Hope to see ya there!”

I turned back to pushing, homeward bound this time. That’s about when That Helpful Guy, Don, spotted me.

“Well, hey, George! Man…you look pretty tired. How’s the new car treatin’ ya?”

I sighed. “Oh, it’s a tremendous car…or it will be, anyway. Still has some kinks to work out, but it’s got a lot of interesting things going for it. The upholstery, the color…the horn. Get a load of this horn.” I honked it again. Eenk, eenk.

He nodded appreciatively. “It is a pretty great horn. Can I show you one of its best features, though? Come along here over with me, it’s under the hood.” I popped the hood, he lifted it up. “You see that big iron thing with all the wiggles coming out of it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that is a real motor. A power plant, in a way. One that really needs some work, but, anyhow…The maker of this car knew that you’d be having the problems you’ve been having, and so they designed a power plant that would enable you to go uphill just as easily as you go downhill. When you learn several simple things about how to operate and maintain the motor and everything else under here, you’ll begin to understand it’s power. Just turn this key and the motor will start. Then you pull down on that lever, step on the pedal – No, not yet! Yeah, there we go. You do the steering, but the engine supplies all the power you’ll need. You won’t have to push at all; just sit back and you can go up the highest hills as easy as you can breathe. You won’t have to worry, cause that engine will handle any demand.”

“Man, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day. That other way was way too exhausting. The car looked pretty good” (Don winced.) “but I was becoming an old man before my time. You got time for a ride?”

He shrugged. “Sure! Would you mind if I worked on it for a while, though? It has some problems, and if the kids are gonna drive it…”

“Sounds like a plan.” I smacked the horn again for emphasis. No response. “Hmm…and now the horn is broken...”

“Sooo…..we’re actually gonna drive the Rabbit, Dad?” Janie asked on the way to church about a week later.

“That’s what I had in mind, yeah.” I answered.

“….Oh. Well, okay…as long as it runs, I guess. Why were you pretending the engine was out?”

I thought about that a minute. “I’m not sure. Guess it just needed a little livening up, maybe, make it into an adventure.”

“That’d be easy enough. I mean, it’s us, after all…” muttered Pete.

“You know, I was thinking,” Mary announced. The rest of us prepared for the worst.

“Doesn’t it seem like the church today acts a lot like the way you were acting, dear? Like, always thinking ‘Maybe if we have cooler worship songs’ or ‘Our church spent this much money on a new sanctuary’ or ‘We must get involved in every, single, fundraising, effort to increase our crowds, instead of just preaching Scripture and relying on God. It’s all about us, how important we are, we’ve got everything all figured out, who needs the Holy Spirit? It’s like, we just focus all our energy on how to make the most use of our human resources, try harder to do God’s work for Him. It’s works, not faith. Positive thinking, the ‘power of a determined will’, all that crap.”

“It’s messed up.” Pete agreed.

“Thankful for our church.” Janie said quietly.

Silence for a while, except for the mandolin and fiddle of the gospel music on the radio.

“It needs a name, though….something sarcastic enough to be able to bear driving that thing around town. Wouldn’t be able to handle it otherwise.” she added.

“Wapid Wabbit?” I suggested.

“NO.” everyone else said firmly.

“Okay…sorry….I was just trying to think up something.”

“How about ‘Calamity Junker’?” Mary offered.

“Not quite right…but getting there. Oh, Dad, WHY…?” Janie moaned.

“What, you aren’t down for tribulational joyrides?” her brother jabbed in quickly.

Her ears perked up. “You know…that could work. We could call her TJ….”

“We could...”

“Let’s do it.”

High five in the backseat.

We pulled into the church parking lot, eleven minutes late. “I thought we could get there faster this time…” Mary said to herself.

Definitions of Winter Olympic Events

I wrote up some satirical Definitions of Olympic Events last year, figured it was about time to write the second part. Living in Oklahoma, I don't know much about most of these things, which takes away most of the fun...
Anyway, let's try this refresher course...

Alpine Skiing - First of all, skiing is strapping a pair of sticks on your feet and pushing yourself along. The downhill portion is sailing along on these sticks down a hill as fast as possible. The slalom is doing the same thing, but weaving in and out of brightly-colored poles. If you miss a pole, there's a penalty.

Biathlon - A mix of skiing and target-shooting. If you miss, you have to ski in huge circles for a while as a penalty, and the first person across the finish line wins.

Bobsledding - Two or four people leap into a souped-up sled and sail down an iced waterslide at fifty miles an hour. WHO thought this was a good idea? 

Cross-Country Skiing - Using skis to get from one place to another. In the individual competition, starts are staggered, and the fastest clock-time wins. In the mass-start, everyone begins at the same time and the first across the line wins. There are also relays in this. 

Curling - This must have been invented out of necessity to prevent someone from dying of boredom(and also to get the house clean). Bowling on ice, with rocks for balls and pins, and there's lots of ice-sweeping. Takes longer than baseball, too. You get points if after every frame/inning/section you have more of your rocks inside the target area than the other guys.

Freestyle Skiing - "Skiing" always looks like I've spelled it wrong. Anyway, freestyle skiing is the type where you do all these tricks, skateboard or snowboard-style. Moguls is a race down an extremely bumpy slope, with two jumps somewhere along the way. Aerials is like moguls, but all about the tricks. High scores win. Ski slopestyle is doing tricks on rails, jumps and whatever other random obstacles are thrown onto the course. Ski halfpipe is pretty self-explanatory, doing tricks while wearing skis on a massive snowy halfpipe.

Figure Skating - This is the Winter Olympics' version of gymnastics, except it makes a little more sense as far as practicality goes. Still, that's not much. Consists of leaping and spinning and kicking your leg wayyy up into the air, skating to a piece of music, and each step has a special name that means somethin'. The women's event is the best to watch, the pairs can sometimes be interesting. "Ice dancing" is extremely dull, and men's figure skating is almost as horrendous as men's diving, and also should be outlawed by the FCC.

Hockey - Violence! Action! Sharp skates! Flying rubber! Mullets and beards. Cool sweaters! And wearable murals on the goalies' helmets! And it gave us the Mighty Ducks movies. It's also the favorite sport of MacGyver and Joey Gladstone, and pretty much hockey is soccer on ice, with neat stickswords. Tow teams of six players try to get the puck into the net, after an hour or so, the team who does this more often is the winner.

Luge - A French word meaning "sled", jumping on a Radio-Flyer sled and hurtling down that icy waterslide at fifty miles an hour. Again...WHO thought this was a good idea?

Nordic Combined - A boring cousin of pentathlon for the wintertime, combines ski jumping with a 10 km ski race. Probably to give you a good long time to think about the stupidity of jettisoning yourself through the air very fast without a parachute.

Speed Skating - The most basic of all winter Olympic sports: If you can skate, you naturally want to see if you're faster than anybody else. Same principle as track. Racers clad in Spandex onesies race against the clock for 500m, 1000m, 1,500m, 3,000m(women only), 5,000m, 10,000m(men only) and team pursuit events.

Short-Track Speed Skating - Take speed skating into a hockey rink, and an extremely high-energy event follows, great for TV. The closest thing we humans have to Jack Russel hurdle racing. 32 skaters race four at a time in an elimination tournament-style bracket, collisions and wipeouts are quite likely. A team relay is - never mind, you guys know what that is.

Skeleton - Named for what you become after taking that Radio-Flyer down the icy waterslide head-first. ...WHO would have thought this was a good idea?

Ski Jumping - Parachuting sans parachute with skis on down a killer mountain incline, then launching oneself into the sky. The farthest distance, assuming nobody died on landing, wins. Who thought thiswas a good idea, either?

Snowboarding - This sounds awesome, just sayin'. Never had a chance to try it, but it sounds great. The halfpipe competition is just like with skateboards, sliding around a gigantic bowl and doing physics-and gravity-defying tricks. Scored on style points. The parallel giant slalom is a head-to-head tournament-style series of races down a mountain while weaving between brightly-colored poles, and the last person left standing wins. Boardercross is like dirt bike racing on snow; sailing down the mountain four at a time in a race over a course filled with highly-banked turns and unexpected jumps.

Description of My Dorm

     It’s just another no-sleep night, just after midnight, to be exact, and nothing much is out of the ordinary around here. There’s the late-night hockey game on the TV, I’ve got the sound muted to not wake any of my neighbors up. It’s one of those 12, 13-inch cubes, about ten or fifteen years old, the kind of TV set that folks set in their closet after an upgrade and give away five years later when their wife is organizing a garage sale. No plugs or anything, so I can’t even hook up a VHS or a DVD player. And the cable’s not the greatest around here; mostly a grainy collection of really strange niche channels that completely blacks out in bad weather. Anyway, Edmonton is at home against San Jose, the score is tied at 1-1 late in the third period.

            Looking around the small, confining space I live in, the TV is perched atop my refrigerator, one of those mini-fridges that has a high capacity of very small items. Right now it’s full of about nine cans of Diet Coke, two cans of Rockstar, half a Subway sandwich that’s tomorrow’s breakfast, and three receipts. Next to the fridge is one of the desks, in need of cleaning, pencil-marks adorn the flat, scarred surface. Makes sense, though – that’s where a broken pencil sharpener sits, spilling sawdust everywhere on the rare occasions it gets used. (I hate pencils, and try to use them as little as possible.) Next to the pencil sharpener is a desktop Christmas tree I found in October at Wal-Mart last year, unplugged at the moment because it doesn’t fit the tone just right now.

            Above those items is my bookshelf; home to a select company of my most treasured friends. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, The Princess Bride, Jane Eyre, Charlotte’s Web, The Book of Virtues,  To Kill A Mockingbird, the first book of Jan Karon’s Mitford series. There’s three or four well-worn reporter’s notebooks, four songbooks, a battered paperback dictionary, three books of poetry, Strunk and White’s Elements of Style. Over off in their own section I have Associated Press stylebooks from 1994 and 2012, together with a Grammar Girl and a couple other useful books for journalistic pursuits and essay-writing. One of those titles included in the communication section is a Biblical-focused guide to dealing with the underlying issues our comm disputes cover, fantastic book that I bought from our pastor’s bookstore several weeks ago. There’s my Bible sitting on top, kind of above everything else, within easy reach. The spine came loose about six years ago and the cover is only very loosely attached, much of Deuteronomy is stuck together by time and elemental damage, but it’s a good copy of the NIV, well-marked. There’s a shot glass next to the Bible, decorated with some of the major landmarks of Washington D.C., I got that while visiting my junior year of high school. It’s filled with guitar picks. Light-gauge, medium-gauge, one or two extremely stiff and unforgiving high-gauge picks. All different colors; red, purple, white, lime green, a kind of tan for the plastic fingerpicks, the shining chrome of the metal fingerpicks. A stuffed toy dog, yellow Lab named Dusty, guards the shot glass on one side and my videocamera on the other.  

            There’s a poster with a quote from Emerson taped with sticky-tack to the cold off-white cement-block wall, the only other decoration on the walls is the glow-in-the-dark basketball hoop above the bed that my sister sent me freshman year.

            There’s my “couch”, in reality the spare bed, but since I don’t have a roommate, the space is there to use. My backpack sits there; holding all my textbooks, several notebooks and planners, a stapler, calculator and pepper spray, among other things with the Snoopy keychain on the outside. My leather jacket is spending the night there with my jeans, since it’s supposed to be pretty cold in the morning, it being winter and all. Abby Lee the guitar and Summertime the mandolin live on the couch, too.

             A towel hangs on the rack atop the closet door, I try to keep my bed neatly made. My CDs are arranged in alphabetical order next to the CD player which needs to be replaced, the microwave sits just above them on the other shelf. A pair of sunglasses lie next the microwave, which must be at least twenty years old and makes alarming noises like it’s going to blow up every time food is cooked inside.

            I keep the laptop on this desk by my bed, along with my phone, wallet, keys, watch, things like that. In the drawers you’d find about nineteen pens waiting to be used, nail clippers, scissors, a hole punch, flashlight, paper clips, several necklaces, glasses case, my camera, quite a few charger-cables belonging to various items, several old newspapers, a pocket book of logic puzzles, condiment container of honey mustard, and old letters, along with jars of peanut butter and Nutella, paper towels and a powerful bleach-based disinfectant inside the file cabinet.

            I keep the volleyball and soccer ball in the closet, where a half-eaten box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch converses with the shampoo bottle.

            The arrangement of belongings is designed that the essential items can be gathered up in a hurry and you can be gone instantly in case of emergency. It’s considered very clean, but there’s a certain amount of messiness just in daily living. Which can be maddeningly solitary at times….I never have guests.

            It’s not that I don’t have friends or anything; more like it’s just that the few people I really enjoy hanging out with around here are also mostly introverts, and private, so it’s like there’s this unwritten code that says we’re don’t usually come into each other’s territory. There’s some exceptions, but I don’t really qualify for any of them. So most nights are spent watching TV or surfing the Internet, doing exciting things like homework and having thrilling adventures like catching a marathon of The Rockford Files. It’s part of being a writer, I suppose.

We scratch out ideas as they come, sometimes using anything from cardboard boxes to discarded sandwich wrappers, and then transfer them into our “scrap bag” of potential items notebooks, which are usually dog-eared and well-thumbed through. Sometimes they come frantically and your hand almost matches your brain’s processing speed, and other times new ideas don’t come very often at all, more like a slow leak in the roof. Sort of like the leak in the bathroom of Grandpa’s trailer, never quite fixed, but usually usable, if a headache to follow.

Anyway, we’re part of a tight-knot drama group, an outreach of the BCM here on campus, and besides that, several of us are writers and other creative types, so we occasionally bounce ideas off each other while hanging out. Not just friends, although we are that. We’re a family. Extremely dysfunctional at times, but we’ve got each other’s backs through rough times. College is miserable alone, and a lot of us know that from personal experience. So we’re there for our siblings and cousins and mom and drill-sergeant aunt.
 Eating a late dinner of some microwaved food, it looks and smells like cat food. 

Copper

     This is an obituary for Copper the red heeler. Originally appeared on Another Lover of the Blade.

    "You'd think I'd be used to it by now, wouldn't ya?

     Seems like I ought to be...and in some ways, just numbed to the pain...but...no, not really, I'm not. 

     It hasn't been the best week ever. In fact, it's been a hard, unpleasant one. Sick with a horrible sinus infection all weekend, so I sort of stumbled through a bare minimum of homework. Had a psych quiz Monday, that went okay. Then a psych test Wednesday, nutrition quiz in the afternoon, still wasn't feeling completely well, had to write an essay - one of those self-reflection type essays - by Thursday morning, it was finished on Wednesday night, and I didn't really like it at all. Course, I don't like those where you have to talk about yourself. But it was better to have something to turn in on time than nothing, right? 

     Playing catch-up all week to get the stuff I should have done earlier while I was sick...it's tiring. And not much fun. And a little overwhelming. Tuesday was a bad night. Overslept Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday mornings, which is a very bad way to start the day. It was pouring rain all Wednesday morning into the afternoon, which is right where I'm in the middle of it. Killed several wasps this week. 

     I think I've been to church about three times in the last two months. I don't like that. But I've either been sick, or had a ton of immediate homework, or something else, and well, there you are. Don't like Halloween much, though I did actually dress up for about an hour. (MacGyver.) 

     Friday was a beautiful Oklahoma fall day, one of the rare times you can slip out of "distressed college student" mode and just be able to marvel and appreciate the trees and colors and sunshine. Nobody showed up for an extra-credit nutrition assignment of walking two miles, so I went down to Morgan's and got some snacks, a mile-and-a-half trip. Came back home yesterday afternoon, found a new Lucy Maud Montgomery book to read, played music with Courtney, heard about her trip, petted the goats, etc. Did laundry today(Saturday), watched Amy, got a little bit of homework done. And said goodbye to Copper. 

     I was reading a book in the living room, possibly a Thoene book or Mitford, on the night of Sept 13, 2010, sprawled out sideways on the blue chair. (I know the date because I mentioned this in my journal that I kept then.) I hear this bark. And it doesn't stop. So eventually I tune into it, don't recognize the tone. It isn't Sunny, and not Sport. Not Skeet, either, or any of the neighborhood dogs. Dad looks out the window. "It's a dog." Someone sets some food and water out on the porch. "Come here, dog! We've got some food for you!" The dog retreats farther down the sidewalk.
     "You try it, Wes." I crouch down, set the bowls on the weathered boards. "It's all right, it's okay. We've got some food here, you came to a good place. You knew that, didn't you?" The dog scurries into the far corner from the door, but still, that's on the porch. She wags her tail slightly, thwapping it on the wall. (During the Depression, hobos had this special sign that they made on houses designating the good places, I think animals have a similar system, and ours is marked as such.)
     The red heeler's hurt leg eventually heals, she sticks around and becomes Copper, sort of fills the void left by Eclipse and all the cats. She was a little of everything - watchdog toward the UPS man, barking menacingly and scaring him to death; friendly to Mrs. Perry or whoever else might be visiting. Once in a while she'd kill a chicken, but it was usually one of the neighbors'. She would placidly endure Amy tugging on her ears and tail, or getting right up in her face while trying to eat. She was always hanging around somewhere near the porch to bark the Welcoming Committee Song and wag her entire body happily. She'd sometimes eat up the leftover scraps from dinner, but she was a picky eater. Didn't like dog food much at all.
     Always there to cheer you up when you looked like you needed it. If you were worried with school or whatever, a happy thumping tail could be heard as she made her way over to wherever you were, slipping her nose under your hand and gently smiling. She really didn't like me going off to college. Always would leap up excitedly and give me a bear(dog?) hug and lick me all over with kisses whenever I came back to visit.

    She got hit by something on Hwy. 16 either late Friday night or early Saturday morning, we wondered where she was. Finally searching in the evening, we found her, with a broken leg, head slightly burned...I was watching Amy, keeping her distracted. There wasn't anything possible to do, though...other than try to say goodbye, and "thank you", and weep bitterly.

     I know, life isn't fair. And I know she was only a dog. But dogs are family. Most pet-animals are. But now, to be dogless in the space of four months... Completely dogless, surrounded by people and ice-cold concrete and thinking way too much. And when I'm still trying to deal with Sunny being gone...I just...I don't know what to do. How do you cope?"