It was nearly a decade ago that my ex-wife and I adopted Bob, and it has been one hell of a ride. He was a lover, a fighter, a tubthumper, the bearer of many names, a movie star and the star of a sermon (which, sadly, is not available online). He was, above all, so very present, typical of the Australian Shepherd‘s “velcro dog” tendencies.

Which has made it all the more difficult to bear his absence in the week since we put Bob to sleep, following his long struggle with canine renal failure. When doing training with Bob, among the commands I learned was one to release him from his sit, stay or down. “OK. Go,” I was taught to say in a nonchalant manner. The idea was — hey, you listened, you obeyed. Swell. Now you’re free. No big deal. Go ahead, run around.

OK, Bob. Go.

Update: I forgot I had taken this brief video of Bob cavorting at the beach. What a find!

Today marks the one-month birthday of our son, Lucas. Elizabeth is doing a marvelous job ensuring that he is properly nourished, and he is growing quite beautifully. Lucas has so many looks. Here he is being pensive.

You can stay updated on Luke’s evolving appearance at his (password-protected) website. For access, please send your request to the address below. Thanks.

In Sunday’s Chicago Tribune, Peter Frost reports that Illinois is way behind other states in getting the word out about buying insurance under the Affordable Care Act:

At the Minnesota State Fair last month, state employees handed out thousands of paperboard fans bearing pictures of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox to promote Minnesota’s health insurance marketplace.

Over Connecticut beaches this summer, airplanes flew banners emblazoned with “Get Covered!” as teams below distributed free sunscreen packets as part of the state’s campaign to get more of its residents insured under the Affordable Care Act.

In Colorado, Oregon and a handful of other states, radio and TV spots have been running for weeks encouraging the uninsured to seek health coverage starting Oct. 1.

In Illinois so far? Mostly silence.

The whole shebang.

And in New York magazine, Jonathan Chait attempts to explain — at length — why Obamacare “continues to drive many Republicans to madness.” He begins:

The Republican party has voted unanimously against establishing the Affordable Care Act in the Senate and then in the House of Representatives, then voted some 40 times to repeal or cripple it; it has mounted a nearly successful campaign to nullify it through the courts and a failed presidential campaign that promised to repeal it; and it has used its control of state governments to block the law’s implementation across vast swaths of the country, at enormous economic cost to those states. Yet somehow, in the wake of all this, the party is consumed with the question Have we done enough to stop Obamacare?

The whole shebang.

… leave such a big hole in your heart?

 

 

On Saturday afternoon, I was absorbed in a big reorganization project on my computer so I didn’t pay much mind when sirens started to sound. Epworth United Methodist Church across the street runs a shelter and there have been a handful of times when ambulances have been called out to cart folks away for treatment.

But the sirens got louder and I heard yells through my closed windows. I looked up from my desk and saw this:

You can see that the fire truck has recently arrived and a firefighter is lugging the fire hose up the steps of the parsonage. It was fascinating to watch from my window as the men  fearlessly fought the fire, extending the ladder across the street to hack their way through the roof to go at it from above. A crowd of dozens gathered to watch. Within minutes, the fire was safely under control and it was out completely within the hour. No one was hurt, I learned later.

Later that evening, the board-up company was there doing its job, hammering away through the night. I awoke to this sight:

It felt scary enough to me — I could feel the heat and smell the smoke from across the street — but the firefighters apparently did their job well. It didn’t even make the news, so far as I can tell.

Update: While no one was hurt, the pastor and his family are living in a Super 8 for the time being. All of their clothes and most of their belongings were destroyed by smoke and fire-hose water.

I initially wrote this soon after Elizabeth and I began dating. I revised it recently and it seems appropriate, given our recent wedding celebration, to share it here.

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When the day is a dunce, dropping itself unceremoniously upon
Its helpless victims, those fools who awoke expecting
Or hoping, against hope, for brilliantine benevolence

When the night is a nincompoop, crawling clumsily upon
Its cooperating witnesses, those ne’er-do-wells who lie awake pondering
What they maybe, might have, could have done, or been

When the morning is a malcontent, thrusting itself unremorsefully upon
Its undercover agents, those daydreamers busy dredging
Inconceivable-seeming days against the crooked currents

When the night has come again
And the land is dark
Well, then, what wonder have we here?

Sweetness and light!
Sweetness and light!
Twinkling with a casual brilliance
Enfolding with the night
Standing at the crossroads
Walking amid the bogs and marshes
Past little boxes made of ticky-tacky
Accompanying what is present
And supplying what is lacking
Bedecked by boisterous eyes
And limned by lavishing lips
Brightening the sanctuaries
Drawing dignity within reach
Darkening the door
And daring to eat a peach

When the dawn is irradiated, shining unapologetically upon
Its reliable sources, those cloying crooners who rise singing
Unabashedly trumpeting their sweetness and light

When they march gaily across the glen
And the sun is high
Well, then, what wonder have we here?

– 30 –