"Hello, Utah - Good Bye, Privacy!"

Or: Confessions of a Bad Neighbor
Warning: offensive to most "good" neighbors


“Hello, all. My name is Alina and I am a bad neighbor”.

No, not “bad” in the sense that I would throw my trash into your yard, or blow my leaves there, for that matter, not “bad” in the sense that I will let my dog (if I had it) or my cats (if they were ever outside) pee on your landscape, nor my kids (if I had them) scream and shoot hoops in the driveway till 2 AM , but “bad” in the “not so friendly” sense of the word.

I do not want to share my life’s story with you, as a neighbor, nor am I interested in hearing about yours. I have friends and family, thank you very much. I just live here! It’s just chance that you and I share a fence, or a street, not a cause to celebrate! As much as I will be able to make it possible, I will try to live so that you can see and hear as little of me as possible.

I have never been really good friends with neighbors, anywhere I lived. I have not invited them over for bbq’s, nor offered to baby sit their kids or pets. And as convenient as I admit this might have been to do, sometimes, I don’t ask them any favors either. I won’t knock on the door to ask you if you have an extra egg, and I will not ask you to look after my house when I am on vacation. I am definitely never going to ask you to buy anything that I might be selling. And I would appreciate if you reciprocate!

I know I am the freak here, though, because everywhere I have lived, neighbors want to know my business and want to share theirs with me. Mind you: other than “hello” and “good bye” when they make eye contact, I am not interested in chatting with them at all! But they ask me everything: anything from where I am from, am I married, do I have kids, what I am doing this weekend, or if I want to buy cookies from their kids. Once, one of them asked me to drive her and her toddler girl to the ER at 9 PM, another one asked me to sit their cat over the Christmas holiday (I evidently had no life!), and one even gave me money and a shopping list to do her shopping at Wal-Mart, when her car died.

And whereas I did come half way on all these requests, and I did all of them as asked, I did so begrudgedly, and hoping I am just trying not to p…o… Karma! But you have to be really lucky to get me while I am between my car and my door to ask me to do any of these, because I have been known to not open the door if you ring or knock. Unless you’re ridiculously persistent. That is, unless you were ridiculously persistent, because that changed when I moved to UT. Here, my dear neighbors, I am tempted to not ever answer the door even if I smell smoke on the other side of it!

Let me explain. When I moved here, my husband (also a “bad neighbor”) reminded me that we live in a (large) family kind of neighborhood, in the middle of super Mormon country (aka Utah County), with an LDS church in the middle of the carefully planned out, cookie-cutter kind of community (yeah, some people have a community pool, a tennis court or a club house in the middle of their suburban neighborhood, we have a church!). As a result, he said, we will get knocks on the door frequently from people to ask us to buy things their (many) kids sell at school (like cookies, chocolate, wrapping paper, what have you), or from people to “kindly” invite us to church, or give us cookies to welcome us to the neighborhood AND invite us to church.

I figured “well, how bad could it be?!”. Well, I am here to tell you, dear people, that it’s BAD!
Every day, rain or shine (who am I kidding?? We live in the desert. There is NO rain here!), someone knocks on the door. They don’t do it on Sundays (they are hermits out here on Sundays, as I’ve said before), and Saturdays, we’re usually out doing something, but every single weekday, I get at least one knock on the door, or sometimes up to three or four in the same day! Every single day! I am not kidding, nor exaggerating!

It started with just unanswered knocks and they’d plainly leave. Then, they began leaving all sorts of stuff at the door. Sure, I have gotten your regular pizza or Chinese special flyer before in other places I have lived, but this is very different.

Anything from pieces of paper to announce their “cause” or social event to bags asking us to fill them with stuff for the needy; from plain colored pieces of paper (if we have a natural disaster, we’re supposed to put a plain red piece of paper in the front window if we need help, but a green one if we’re OK! – no, I am not making this up) to FOOD! Yes, you read it correctly: food. One day, we found a paper bag full of what looked like leftovers from a family: used, beat-up containers of sour cream and butter filled with “taco fixings”, we think. We just chalked that up to someone having the wrong address for meals-on-wheels, but seriously: if someone you know needs food because they can’t go to the grocery store is not answering, either call 911 or check your address!

Since our yard is only partially fenced in, we get many visits from other “folks” in the neighborhood as well: like dogs who seem to have made our yard their home – there is a small one across the (very busy!) street in the back of our house that crosses the street with all the crazy traffic on it JUST to come to our yard to pee. And then he crosses it right back! Another big black dog tracked across our yard the other night. Kids throw their ball over the fence between our houses and then just prance in the yard, and pick it up just like it’s theirs or like the fence were a volleyball net or something (we did keep one ball, but ... they have more than one!). Some days I just feel like we’re all living on a compound and we just share our yard and our front porch with the entire community! Not very cool, nor funny!

So, Aa. and I are trying to think what kind of sign we could put in the yard to keep at least humans away! The one to four knocks on the front door, the bags and loads of papers to clean up need to stop! We don’t need cookies, we’re on a diet. We have our gods, so we’re looking for none of those. We don’t need “savings cards to local stores” (one of the solicitors offered that for sale one day when I was working in the yard), we would pick them up at the very stores, if you should need them! We don’t need to help other people’s causes, because we have our own causes to support, and it’s a recession, people, there is only so much spare cash to go around!

So, what kind of sign can be friendly enough (we don’t want our house burned down next time we travel!) but clear enough to keep those folks away?! Sitting out there with a rifle in our hand is not an option, either! So, we are both at a loss – and yes, we’re taking ideas! We’re willing to make it “nice” and maybe like a “decoration piece”, but we do need to send the message loud and clear, that they all need to move right along. Or maybe we should make our own "Beware of (bad) neighbor" or "Bad neighbor" since we don't have a dog. How many people would get it?!

And no, the fact that we never answer the door although our cars are visibly there, and they hear us talking on the other side of the door does not stop the knocking! Not at all. Since May, when I moved here, the knocking has not ceased!

I guess, in a way, I should stop bitching, as it’s all a very “democratic” affair: they have the right to knock on people’s doors whenever they so please, I have the right to not respond. Everyone’s happy. But there are business in town with “no solicitation” signs in the window, so why would those signs be frowned upon when on a private property?! Not to mention that the littering needs to stop!

Welcome home: three of the neighborhood "offerings" left behind one day this week.

A “Silly” Weekend

"The best things in life are silly." (Scott Adams)

Well, it was not really a whole weekend of silliness but Sunday was pretty chuckly!

I have seen this street festival in Park City advertised everywhere ever since I came to UT – it’s called “Park Silly Sunday Market”. And I kept wondering: “Now, how silly can Utah be?! Really!”. True, Park City is not the “mainstream” Utah, it is more hip, with lots of arts and open minded people, lots of hippies and even breweries within less than miles from each other, a tourist town, too, with ski slopes descending right down to Main Street where people from all over the world flock in the winter to get a feel for “the greatest snow on earth”. So, I guess it has some potential for something other than kids and straight up Mormons which we’re seeing around our neighborhood!

But still, this was a Sunday, when everything else is dead in Utah, so, how riotous can it get?! Well, there was only one way to find out. We headed up there and what follows is a sneak peek into what the streets showed us.

Save from some brief comments, I’ll let the pictures tell the story. Hope you find our little journey as silly as it wanted to be.

Out of all the many “silly” puppies at the event, this was my favorite! However cliché this might sound, he was a poster child for Beethoven! Just everything you ever think of a Saint Bernard and then some. All 250 pounds of it!

Book in the window of a store, or … Utah in a nutshell?! Made me smile to picture “lonely” surrounded by 1000 screaming kids!

As explosively delish as this sounds, I like the disclaimer above it better: “All ingredients are organic, in season, local, whenever possible”. I am SO GLAD there are people our there who do not take all this “organic – local – all natural – I am better than you for eating tasteless dirt” mumbo-jumbo so seriously sometimes!

I thought I saw it all a few years back when I had garlic ice cream! But this is a close contender to that. One question though: WHY in the world would you ruin precious, delicious pig with chocolate, pray tell?! Oh, that’s right: ‘just to be silly’, perhaps! *Eye roll and sigh*

Now, I have never tasted “passion” nor “integrity”, but they smelled pretty good!

Well, at least you can’t sue them for false advertising!! – on a T-shirt in a gift store.
*Chuckle-chuckle*

We did have some street food at the festival, as it was mandatory, of course – bbq pork, smoked sausage and corn on the cob lathered in butter. But the true gastronomic win of the day was indoors: Wasatch Brewery (or is it Squatters??? – don’t get me started, it’s confusing!) had this coconut beer (ale) battered shrimp on green papaya (and carrots) salad with red chili aioli. Oh, my God, was it a trip between tastes in your mouth: savory-and-sweet-and-tangy-and-spicy-and-…YEAH!!! The beer find was great, too: they call it “nitro cream ale”, and it has no fizz, it’s almost room temperature and it’s just like drinking a smoothie – VERY creamy!

The above mentioned indoor "feast"

And as everywhere in Utah … there were a lot of short people! All running around getting caught in stranger’s legs, and tripping on even shorter puppies! Whining about the heat, or munching on street fare. Trying to “navigate” the sea of little ones is always my (and not to mention Aa’s) biggest challenge! No, it’s not their fault, it’s the mindless parents, of course! And this is why this sign made my day and was my favorite silly note of the trip. It was like whoever made it heard my pain loud and clear:

“Take them home, now, lady mom and mister pop, sir, and YOU deal with them!”

After walking around in smoldering heat, we sought refuge in the Kimball Art Center which displayed three galleries, of various media (paint, photography, quilting, digital printing, food art etc). I always love checking out local galleries in places I travel, because almost always you find things you would never see anywhere else. The exhibit of various wall hanging quilts was my favorite, but Bridget Conn’s art was truly unusual, and unforgettable, in a skin – crawling, jaw - clenching kind of way, at times.

When I first told people I am moving to Utah, they all told me “Wow! Well, that’s great, but don’t expect much diversity there! It’s all one color in every way”. And weekends like these make me prove them wrong every single time. So much to see, so little time! And despite popular belief: we are lucky to have them so close to us!

Click on the picture to see the whole album of the “Park Silly Sunday Market”.

I Did It!

I keep waiting for the day, as I grow older, where nothing will be such a big deal to me anymore. I am waiting for the day, when I won’t get nervous about a job interview, about meeting someone new, when I won’t have knots in my stomach when I fly over the Atlantic or pack up for a weekend road trip, when I don’t think that someone will break into my house every time I head for the grocery store. The day when I’ll stop worrying for trivial things like these.

One of the things I hate most about myself is being a worrywart! Hate it with a passion. I was brought up to believe that if there is anything that can go wrong, it will go wrong and I need to be five minutes smarter than life to be prepared for everything. It’s really a curse! And it’s a rotten way to live, I am telling you! I blame it for my high blood pressure and chronically accelerated pulse! My migraines, too!

I have lived in Utah now for over two months. And for that long, every day, I have dreaded the day I will have to go in and get a Utah driver’s license. I know – it’s comical! 16 year olds do it! 15 year olds get a learner’s permit! And I was literally sick to my stomach, afraid of going in and applying for one! Why?! Because in Utah, along with a loooong laundry list of documents you have to provide, they also make you take the written test all over again.

So, to me, it was like having a real exam. And I hate exams! My nerves hate them more. So, like a pathetic, self doubting fool that I am, I have been keeping up at night, worrying that I might miss too many questions to pass, I might not be of “legal enough” status for Utah to apply for one (they ask you for proof of citizenship, and whereas my passport does say I am an American, it still stays I was born elsewhere!), I have feared that they won’t like the bank statements which are the only “bills” I have in my name with my Utah residence on them, and they’d like to see a mortgage bill or utility bill, which are not in my name… and so forth!

So, for weeks, I have studied the road book – yes, I have read it cover to cover – and I have panicked! My poor, amazing husband has put up with my *yawn* boring stories about what the book says and how easily one can miss a question, because everything in that book is so relative, about how I don’t get what the heck a CFI is nor a single point urban interchange … and the likes.

The fact that the exam is open book meant absolutely nothing to me! What if I am too nervous to be able to find the answer in the book? What?! They let you use an actual book? Well, if it were in pdf format, on the computer, you could do a Ctrl+F and find what you’re looking for, but in a book?! The fact that there was no time limit on the exam, and you could take three hours to answer all the 25 (I know: 25!!!) questions meant nothing to me. And as I have said – the fact that ADHD children of 15 PASS this test every day, without having 12 years of driving experience behind them like me meant nothing to me also.

Worry. Worry. Worry. That was the only thing I did for two months.

Till today. Because I did brace myself, closed my eyes and “jumped” sorta - kinda, a couple of weeks back when I made an appointment for the DMV for today, to go pass the darn thing! And I did. After having “the breakfast of champions” (mom always told me to eat a hard boiled egg every time before an exam – “it will keep you focused”, she said – and I listened) and several cups of coffee to make sure I am awake when I browse that book, I drove to the only town in our county that allows you to obtain an “original” Utah driver’s license and that facilitates “the exam”! I got 100% of answers right, and I only looked up in the book maybe two of them, and just for double checking. And miracle of all miracles, I did find them in the book! Must be all that coffee.

I wondered all this time whether there was more behind this irrational, unexplainable fear. Maybe secretly I was not ready to say “good bye” to my (always) beloved NC, and my second home on this planet. I am still not completely sure that there was not more to it. But truth is, from where I saw it, it was complete and utter, paralyzing fear of failure and having to deal with the consequences of re-taking the test and all and bureaucracy of it.

But it’s over. I did it! I passed it, and now, my NC license has two punch holes in it to mean it’s not the “real” one anymore. And I have a temporary, paper Utah license in addition to it - with my new Utah Address and everything. I feel just a little bit more legal in my new home state. And just a little bit less worried, maybe?! Well, let’s not push it quite yet!

Registering the car in UT is next, and the fear of … oh, I don’t know … not passing inspection, maybe, or making my insurance agent mad when I cancel the NC insurance and get on Aa’s UT insurance is next too … Are you chuckling and shaking your head?! Remind me one day to tell you about how I felt when I had to go in for a heart cath! Which I had put off for FIVE years before I built the courage to actually do it! Now, that’s a story …

As I have said: still waiting for that day when I grow up and grow out of the worrywart stage and become more … blasé. Man, what a celebration that will be!

The proof: the "hole punched" NC license, and just a hint of the new temporary UT license underneath.

The Dollar Tree Experience ...

... and not the kind you'd think ...

I remember distinctively my last trip to The Dollar Tree store on Lawndale in Greensboro, NC. The dialogue between me and the sales lady went something like this:

The Lady (big smile, eye contact and all): “How you doin’, honey?”
Me: ” I am fine, thank you. And you?”
The Lady (with the same smile, head shake and Southern drawl): “Oh, I am great, baby! Thank you. A bit tired. My momma collapsed last night in the bathroom, and I had to drive to Wilmington this morning to see her in a hospital, then back, ‘cause my shift was startin’, so I am a bit tired. But thank The Lord, she’s all right, and I am just great.” (bearing white teeth at me in a large smile to probably convince me that she is indeed “great”).

Didn’t know what to do with all that. Just mumbled “feel better and have a nice day” as I was hurriedly grabbing my change and rolling my inside eyes, with a (fake) smile on my face, of course, like a (then) good Southern gal.

Today, at another Dollar Tree store, in Spanish Fork, UT – the experience was a bit different.

The (other, serious, Utah) Lady: “How are you?”
Me: “I am good, thanks. You?”
The (U) Lady: “Oh, I am fine. (pause). Well, no, not really!!” - frowns and shakes head.
We both stared at each other, me smiling, she, still serious.
She continues: “Oh, that was not nice, was it?! Well, but it was true!”

We both burst into laughter and wished each other a better day.

Changes in altitudes and attitudes, indeed!

Close to Home and Yet So Foreign

A weekend adventure ...

This past long weekend, our plan was to know our surroundings a little bit more. And we did get to accomplish that. A little bit … too much, maybe?! But first thing’s first.

For a long weekend, and for two travelers, my husband and I had very loose plans this weekend. We kinda wanted to go to The Grand Canyon. And we kinda flirted with going to Las Vegas, too. But we ended up just staying home and taking short day trips here and there, learning more about Utah’s history, its capital and discovering more nature trails that make this state so unique.

We started Friday night, with an Indian dinner (nothing says “America” as Indian food, does it?!) and a walk through the Downtown of the city of Provo. It was entirely too hot to be completely comfortable in the midst of booths, strollers, skateboarders and absent minded parents, so, after a quick look over the “Fun Fourth” booths, we headed towards the more quiet streets where some galleries were open for the monthly “Gallery Stroll”.

On Saturday, we went to Salt Lake to … be tourists. He is more familiar with this area than I am (having lived here for over a year before my arrival, and having researched this area for many years before that), so the “touristy” demand came from me. I just wanted us to go to Salt Lake and visit some landmarks that I could send home with the label “SL,UT” - as a t-shirt showed it in a store window – infer your own acronym from there, if you may.

So, tourists we were. We parked first at Pioneer Park, where The Salt Lake City Farmers’ Market was in full swing (pictures start here) . We walked about the park, listened to the live music (pretty good, actually), browsed the arts booths and tents (metal sculptures, photography, woodworking, beading and the likes), bought some fresh goat cheese and some sopressata, sampled everything from honey butter to wild boar salami and of course people watched. A nice high of 77 with a mixture of sun and shade made for a refreshing start of the day.

We then drove to The Gateway Mall , located adjacent to the historic Union Pacific Train Depot. The historic train station is a beautifully kept turn of the century building, with gorgeous murals and painted windows telling visual stories of the settling of the Mormon pioneers (1847) and of the accomplishment of the first trans continental rail road (1869), as well as displaying various scenes of the Western landscape (pictures start here).

True to our tourist demands, we had lunch at The Mall, and were surprised to find a delicious chain restaurant that offered Hawaiian fare – Rumbi. The pulled pork is the best I have had in a long while.

After lunch, we drove up a very steep hill indeed (never been to San Francisco, but … it seemed like driving through it instead!) up to The Capitol of the State of Utah. Reading more about the building after we saw it, I can tell you now that we saw the South - South - East side of the structure, with its front lawn, stairs, view of the city, and we also saw the monument dedicated to the Mormon Battalion, to the right of The Capitol.

The place looked like most Capitols you have seen, stately, majestic, sort of intimidating, I’d say, but this particular building and its grounds surprised me as extremely quiet for such a huge construction, and arguably an important tourist attraction on a holiday weekend. Pictures start here.

In search for more Mormon history, on we went to Temple Square . I can probably write a whole day about this area so revered by LDS folks and such a staple of Utah, and of Mormon culture. But I will let you research it at your own convenience, and see it through my and Aa’s lens, here .

What also amazed me was how quiet and scarce the crowds were, again, for a holiday weekend. The architecture of all the buildings comprising The Square is beautiful, and the gardens breathtaking. As you may know, we are not allowed to visit The Temple, as non-Mormons, but the visitors’ center does a good job of explaining the fundamentals of the faith, and they also offer videos of some of the inside details. Definitely include this sight in your future trips to SLC.

On Sunday, it was return to nature day! Aa. had planned for us to drive The Diamond Fork Canyon for a while now – a campground and scenic route only minutes from our house – and we finally got to it on July Fourth! The ride through the Canyon is as many Utah rides are – beautiful, surprising, colorful, serene, very diverse in landscape and mostly wild. These folks know how to keep things wild, and I love that! The isolation, quietude and freshness say “hello” at every turn. We didn’t see much wildlife this time (pictures here), but we did see a lot more varied grasses and flowers than elsewhere before. Also, lots of camping opportunities, whether in organized, beautifully kept campgrounds, or just along the Diamond Fork river, on the side of the road, with big signs welcoming us: “Camping allowed. No fees required”.

A surprising thing on this particular drive was the fact that at some a vile smell floods the car. After turning yet another corner, you see white streams coming down from the mountains – there are sulfur (hot) springs in this Canyon. They surely are pretty, but they smell just like rotten eggs – breathtaking, but not in the desired way, for sure!

Later on, upon reading about these parts, we discovered that the Hot Pots of Diamond Canyon are a popular destination not only for people who seek tranquility and a return to nature, but also for … nudist hikers.

Our shock is only bigger than those of folks who have never been to Utah and can’t comprehend the degree of … conservatism (for lack of a better word) this state is capable of displaying in most day-to-day life situations – like buying coffee being frowned upon, or trashing empty bottles of beer after a cook out, or driving for 10+ miles from anywhere for a bottle of wine. No, not liquor – wine!

So, yeah, to hear about the “illegal but tolerated” behavior of bathing nude in a national forest was a bit daunting indeed. Not only that, but I stumbled upon another surprising fact: there is a “forum” out there for LDS skinny dippers (seriously - just google it!). OK, so maybe I have been sheltered, and I am the only one surprised by these seemingly contradictory findings, so I will refrain from comment. I guess a true Garden of Eden this state is! The things you learn as a tourist in your back yard are sometimes worth ten trips around the world.

I will just conclude that Diamond Fork Canyon is a gorgeous ride and park (as you can tell from the pictures), it’s mostly clean, very well maintained, the roads are nicely paved, and all the campgrounds look spacious, safe, wood stocked and most of them are shaded or have picnic gazebos, fire pits and grills. Just beautiful country, as you have come to expect from Utah so far.

On Monday, we came down to our less escapist lives, and we just shopped around our town and the towns around us – Orem and Provo, in particular. It was a hot day, and being mostly in the air conditioned stores just browsing and brainstorming about what else we might need to make our house a home was just what we needed to round up a full weekend.

The only thing absent from our weekend were the fireworks. Sunday is too small a day for two holidays in Utah County, and Church always wins: all the displays were Saturday (on the 3^rd), so we missed them. Given the heat of the springs and the somewhat explosive news surrounding them, I declared myself happy with the kind of “fireworks” we did run into.

Hope everyone had a fun and safe holiday. I don’t have a job yet, but I am ready for the next long weekend! I am … holding my breath for what else Utah has in store for us. Who knows where the next … sulfur spring might pop up, if you know what I mean.

Cainele care latra numai la pisici

For the English version, please click here.

De ce o facem?! De ce vrem sa avem animale de casa? Stim ca ne atasam sufleteste de ele. Stim ca ele se vor duce inaintea noastra si ca vom suferi cand le vom pierde. Si cu toate acestea le dorim. In mod constient. Cu ochii deschisi le cautam ani de zile si ne deschidem usile si inimile catre ele, atunci cand ne caute ele pe noi. De ce?!

Cred ca o facem din aceleasi motive pentru care vrem sa avem copii, desi stim ca nu ii vom putea proteja intreaga lor viata – e o lege inexplicabila a naturii. Simtim nevoia sa ne conectam sufleteste. Sa dam si sa primim dragoste, neconditionata. E superflua explicatia acestui fapt natural. O facem pentru a ne onora umanitatea!

Tatal meu si-a dorit dintotdeauna un caine. Mereu a vrut sa aiba un caine ciobanesc german. Dar cand eram noi copii, a iubit mereu cainii altora, pentru ca mama nu voia animale in apartementul in care am crescut. Cand a costruit in sfarsit o casa, primul lucru pe care l-a dorit in curte a fost un catel. Astfel, catelul va putea sta afara, fara sa murdareasca in casa si sa o supere pe mama.

Si asa a facut – tata a adoptat in sfarsit un catel. In august sunt 10 ani de cand a adoptat un caine ciobanesc german de la un prieten de al lui caruia ii fatase cateaua. L-a numit Bobby. Sau mai précis “Bobby Capucino”, datorita culorii maronii. Tata voia sa aiba un caine care arata fioros, pentru ca strainii sa se teama de el, si sa nu se apropie de casa. Bobby arata fioros, dar era departe de a fi fioros.

Bobby a fost cel mai tacut si supus catel din cati am vazut eu vreodata. Iubea oamenii, prieteni si straini, deopotriva. Si desi tata il voise la inceput pentru a latra tare la persoanele straine, asa cum o fac de obicei cainii ciobanesti germani, Bobby nu latra niciodata la nimeni, decat la pisici. Niciodata nu latra la oameni. Manca din mana oricui, se sprijinea de piciorul oricarui om statea la masa, spunea “buna ziua” la oricine intra in curte, si ii conducea frumos la bucatarie, sau oriunde erau cei de ai casei.

Era mereu in preajma tatei, desi tata fusese rau cu el in anumite ocazii, cand i-a calcat gradina de legume, sau cand a disparut de acasa si nu l-a gasit decat dupa ore intregi, speriindu-l pe tata care credea ca il calcase vreo masina.

Bobby a fost mereu dezlegat. Niciodata nu a fost legat cu lantul, asa cum o fac multi oameni in Romania. Si dupa ce si-a invatat teritoriul, Bobby era extrem de ascultator si cuminte, si nu mergea unde nu avea voie.

Vremuri mai sanatoase si mai fericite: Bobby in fata bucatariei si a portii

Ca orice animal de casa, Bobby a devenit parte din familia noastra. In primul weekend pe care l-a petrecut la noi in casa, a fost nunta sorei mele. A fost cu noi cand a murit maia; era mereu langa noi cand veneam in vizita, si mancam pe terasa; a fost langa mama si tata cand a murit Dolly, pisica noastra; era mereu langa tata cand facea gratar; a fost acolo cand l-am dus pe Patrick in Romania pentru prima data. Era mereu tacut si daca nu il vedeai, nu stiai ca exista caine la casa parintilor mei. Sau daca nu era cate o pisica vagaboanda prin curte si atunci ii auzeai scheunatul. Ca nu era chiar ca un latrat. Era mai mult ca un suspin sau oftat!

Nu prea se pricepea la tinut pisicile afara din curte. Suspinul lui frustrat cand le vedea insemna mai mult ca le atentiona ca desi primesc mancare acolo, curtea ii apartine lui.

Bobby a fost fara discutie cel mai destept caine din cati am vazut vreodata. Grija cu care se misca pe langa copiii mici, obedienta tacita fata de adulti, discretia cu care statea sub masa fara a cere flagrant de mancare, il aratau ca pe un caine destept. Si, fara discutie, a fost un caine plin de dragoste, pentru toti cei care l-au intalnit. Dragoste si umilinta.

Cred ca tacerea lui i-au cauzat si moartea, poate, pe de o parte. Parintii mei nu si-au dat seama cat este de bolnav pana a fost prea tarziu, pentru ca nu se plangea de a-I fi rau.

Bobby a murit astazi. Avea doar 10 ani. Si spun “doar” pentru ca ar fi trebuit sa traiasca mult mai mult! A murit la fel de silentios cum a trait. Asa cum a zis si mama, a fost ca si copilul lor; chiar daca l-am mai certat, l-am iubit, asa cum iubesti si certi un copil.

Deci, la dupa doar 10 ani, noi, si mai ales tata care si l-a dorit timp de peste 40 de ani, nu suntem pregatiti sa ii spunem “la revedere”. Dar adevarul este, cand oare suntem pregatiti sa spunem la revedere unui “copil”, unei parti de familie, unui animal de casa?!

Sper ca daca exista vreun “rai ai cateilor”, Bobby alearga acum liber si fara durere prin el, rastindu-se doar din cand in cand la pisicile care ii ies in cale. O sa imi fie dor de tine, Dle. Capucino. Esti de neinlocuit!

Mai putin "servitor si stapan" si mai mult "prieten si prieten" - tata, cu Bobby

The Dog Who Barked Only ... at Cats

Why do we do it?! Why do we ever consider to have pets? We know we will get attached like they are family. We know they will die before us and we know it will hurt when they go. And yet we choose to have them. Consciously. With eyes wide open, we seek them, or we open our doors and our hearts to them when they seek us. Why?!

I am guessing for a similar reason that some of us choose to have kids, although we know we won’t be able to protect them forever – just from some kind of unexplained law of nature. We feel the need to connect. To give love, and to receive it. Unconditionally and totally. Explaining why is superfluous. We will do it at some point in our life, to celebrate our humanity!

Ever since I can remember, my dad wanted a dog. He was very specific about what kind of dog he wanted: it was going to be a German Shepherd. As my sister and I were growing up, we watched him love other people’s dogs, because mom never allowed pets in our condo. But once he built his house, the very same year, he was on the lookout for a dog. This way, the dog can live outside, and not bother mom.

And a dog he got. Ten years ago this August, he had a friend who had a German Shepherd female dog who had puppies. And he adopted one and named him Bobby. More precisely, Bobby Cappuccino, because of his “cappuccino” color. Dad wanted a mean looking dog, so people would stay away from his house (in Romania the notion of a guard dog is not at all extinct). A large and mean looking dog Bobby was, but a mean dog he was very far from.

He had to be the quietest and meekest dog I have ever seen. He loved friends and strangers just the same. And although dad wanted him for the known, loud and intimidating Shepherd’s bark, the only thing Bobby ever barked at were cats! Never at people. Ever. He would eat from anyone’s hand, and lean onto anyone’s leg at the dining room table. He would greet everyone, friends, strangers, the mailman, anyone at the gate, and show them into the kitchen or where dad was.

He was dad’s shadow, all these years, although dad has been known to be mean to him when he trampled his veggie garden and when he wandered off into the streets for hours causing dad to panic that he might have gotten killed by a car.

Healthier and happier times: Bobby outside the kitchen and in front of the gate - he never quite grew into his paws and large head.

He was always free to roam. In Romania chaining a dog is routine, but dad never ever chained Bobby. He trusted him, and Bobby behaved always, after he learned everyone’s needs.

Like any pet, he became very much part of the family. During his first weekend in our yard, my sister got married. He was there when my grandmother died, when we visited my parents and had all our meals on the patio, he was there when Dolly, our cat, died; there when we grilled out, there when we brought Patrick for his first visit to see my parents. He was always quiet, and unless you saw his large frame, you never ever knew there was a dog living there. Unless stray cats would happen in the yard, and you’d hear his whining. Not as much as a bark, but a frustrated whine. He was not very successful at keeping cats at bay, though: dad has had throughout the years many-a-stray cats in the yard to feed. His whine was just a warning to them, perhaps, that yes, they may get food in that house, but the yard still belongs to him.

He was without a question the smartest dog I have ever known. His diligence to move around babies and small children without hurting, his nonintrusive closeness to humans, his discreetness and never begging for food made him smart to me. And definitely, without a question, he was the most loving dog I have ever seen. He was nothing but a big pile of love for everyone. And meekness!

I think his silence almost killed him: my parents didn’t realize he was as sick as he was, because he never complained. His congested heart was found too late.

He died today. He was only 10. And I say ONLY because dogs should live longer than that! Much, much longer! He went as quietly as he lived. As mom said “he was just like a child of ours; we loved him, although we sometimes scolded him, just like you do a child”.

So, at only 10, we – and definitely dad who waited for him for 40 some years – were not ready to lose him! Truth is: when are you ever ready to lose a “child”, a part of your family, a pet?

Hopefully, if there is such a thing as a doggie heaven, Bobby is peacefully roaming it free and painlessly, only whining at the random cat up there … I’ll miss you, Mr. Cappuccino. You could never be replaced!!

Dad and Bobby. Not as much "master and servant" as "pal and pal"

Idiocracy … Now ?!

There was a story told in my philosophy class, of an ancient man, who, while he was young, found a big, golden ring on the street. He picked it up, sold it, and lived well for a little while. Starting the day he found the ring, he always, for as long as he lived, walked with his gaze to the ground, looking for more gold. He became hunchbacked, and lived to be very old, but when he died, he realized: because he never looked at the world, he had missed all the beauty of it. The sun in the sky, the birds, the spring blooms, and yellow leaves in the fall, the beautiful woman who passed him by and could have been his wife, the stray puppy who could have been his good friend.

He never did find another ring. He died poor, lonely, and never knew the beauty of life.

I keep thinking about this man watching the world around me “evolve” (read: regress) into this techy age. More and more people keep their head buried into their Iphones, Ipod touches, blackberries, hand held devices … what have you. A computer device used to be a privilege, a gift, a treat at the end of the day, where you caught up with the world. Now, it’s the extra pair of eyes and ears that are attached to humans. It’s a given. It’s expected. It’s a taken for granted.

And in the process, I watch humanity dehumanizing. They become just as much the machines they are hand holding! It doesn’t matter whether they cross a parking lot, they drive a car, they watch a movie, they “talk” to a group of friends, the world is tuned out, because they need to keep up with the latest Facebook update about someone’s breast milk tasting funny today!

The most crass example of such de-humanizing, I think, came to me while going to Salt Lake City for a show, this past weekend. We were there to spend 90 minutes with the chef and author Anthony Bourdain in a half stand up – half “Artist’s Studio” type of evening . It was a good show. Not a great show, but a good one.

We had tickets in the third tier, which meant … way up high. Those were cheaper, but they also allowed me to see the whole concert hall. Looking down, at the main floor, while the show was going on and the lights were dimmed, you saw a field of bright, lit screens everywhere on the main floor. Every tenth person or so, just looking at their cell phone screen. Texting. Surfing. Emailing. Who knows?!

And this is while the guest was actually talking on the stage. It was not a boring show. Bourdain has a very vivacious, colorful, extremely visual way of speaking. He’s a great story teller and he had lots of stories to tell! You had to tune in to keep up with each story. And people were completely, and deliberately ignoring his speech. I was floored! Pun unintended!

Why do people bother to pay $70 tickets to a show, if all they do is tune it out to “watch” Facebook, The World Cup, or whatever else?! Why have people have become so darned self absorbed and rude to completely ignore the huge notices hung in the concert halls that kindly ask them to turn off their freaking cell?! Why are they so selfish as to not care about the beeper going off every ten seconds, as they get another IM update, bothering everyone around them?

My parents always told me: if you bother to pay for a show, that means you found it interesting enough to make it worth your buck! If so, respect the people traveling from long distances, who are standing in front of you working and trying to entertain you during the time you’re there! You don’t have to stay, if you hate it. But be polite and leave! Don’t blatantly ignore the people who are doing their jobs and don’t blatantly bully your seat neighbor!

It was a sad, sad scene for my eyes. We see people being replaced by machines all day long. We have 24 hour ATMs and coke machines, 24 hour gas stations with no one there. You can even mail a package at the post office without ever seeing a human being. Even buy your ProActiv supply at the mall, from a vending machine!

But, do we have to become machines?! Do we single-handedly have to cause ourselves to get A.D.D. and Alzheimer’s when we’re 40?! Do we have to consciously tune out the world in order to chase trifles?! Because no one is going to invent the next cure for cancer while surfing the Iphone, I can guarantee you that much! It’s trifles! No substance. At all!

I guarantee you that whatever all those people were after on their phones during the show would still have been there long hours after the show was over! If something was that life-and-death (really, really doubtful, considering the amount of people “cell-ing”), then you should not have been there – you should have been where life or death needed you!

But the show in front of your eyes, the one you paid $70 for a front row for … will be gone in 90 minutes! Never to be seen again! Unless one of those bozos in the audience bootlegged it and put it on youtube – in today’s world, that would be highly possible! But say they didn’t: you want to waste a lifetime (maybe) opportunity on 10 seconds of stupid “pleasure”?! Honestly?! Has the world come down to this lowest, below the ground level of easy entertainment?! Do I still call myself “human” like the rest of them?! Really?!

Images from Idiocracy, the Mike Judge movie, flashed through my head. We’ll be a world of nothing but gadgets and no brain usage. Facile entertainment and tuning out. No, I won’t cancel my Facebook account. Nor sell my cell phone. But I will try to keep a smidgen of humanity and common sense in me, and use them when it’s appropriate, while trying to remember what my parents taught me before I ever went to school: when someone is talking to/ at you, pay attention!

Plus, I don’t want to be that old person when I die, lonely and completely empty, devoid of what the world had to offer me! When my followers will ask me on my death bed what I have seen in life, I don’t want a loopy-loop Facebook scrolling screen to go in front of my eyes, while I mumble “not much”.