storyscapes

The theme this week is “leaves” and I just couldn’t bring myself to either pull out a photo I’d already taken, or simply go outside and photograph dead leaves.

So I decided on tobacco leaves.

When I was growing up my mom smoked, and in fact I think she smoked while she was pregnant with me (at that time the hazards of nicotine were largely unknown.) Cigarettes were everywhere back then: on TV commercials, in magazines; there were cigarette machines next to most coke machines. I even remember when smoking on planes was allowed; cigarettes weren’t completely outlawed on commercial flights until the late nineties!

Today, most of the smokers I know don’t even smoke in their own homes; they typically go outside if they want to light up. I happen to live in a city where a ban prohibits smoking in public buildings as well as most restaurants and bars (which I’m grateful for) but believe it or not, I’m an ex-smoker. In early college I was a two-pack per-day girl; I lived on Marlboro Lights and diet cola. Quitting smoking took some major effort, but I’m glad I did it. My husband’s father died of lung cancer in his early 50’s; my grandmother had emphysema, which in turn caused the congestive heart failure that eventually claimed her life. Both were smokers.

Cigarette smoking and exposure to tobacco smoke cause more than 440,000 premature deaths each year in the United States. Of these premature deaths, about 40 percent are from cancer, 35 percent are from heart disease and stroke, and 25 percent are from lung disease. Smoking is the leading cause of premature, preventable death in this country.

Yeah, I remember thinking that I wish all the non-smokers would chill out and quit whining about secondhand smoke. I used to inwardly roll my eyes when people said my smoke bothered them. That’s ridiculous. They just want to have something to complain about.

But now, smoke really does bother me, as in, my eyes water, my sinuses cloud up and my throat hurts when I’m around too much of it. Several people I love smoke, but I won’t nag them. I do, however, hope they’ll find the courage to give it up because time really does pass in the blink of an eye and before they know it they’ll be my age… and wishing they had quit.

She was so focused. The stick! The stick! The stick! Sam never took her eyes off of it: when he reared back to throw it, she took a step back with him. And once he flung it, she hit the water before the stick did, simultaneiously watching it fly through the air. “Get it, girl! Find it!” She’d paddle left, then right, then left again – a living, breathing zig zag. Every single time Sam managed to find the stick and came back for more. I imagine she would’ve paddled around in that water for hours if that’s what it took to find the soggy branch. 

I’m in a new photogrpahy group called, “Take a Damn Picture a Week.” It’s a bunch of professional photographers who decided it would be good to have a weekly discipline of taking one photo each week that is NOT work related (helps with the creative edge, I’m told.) This week the assignment was “Happiness.”  I could probably justify photos of my granddaughters each week – regardless of the theme – but that’s kind of cheating because I would be taking those photos every chance I get anyway. So today I got on my bike and headed for the park to see if I could find myself a little happiness. About 4 miles in I ran across Sam and her human, Arlen (who told me that you don’t “own” a golden retriever; it owns you. I concur.)

Sam was at the park for a well-deserved playtime. She’s a working girl; not just any working girl but the 2011 Texas Therapy Dog of the Year! What does a therapy dog do? They visit people who need love and hope, offering them a “time out” from things like chemo or being cooped up in a hospital room or a nursing home. Arlen says that Sam works mostly with the elderly; this power duo visits with folks for about an hour and a half once per week, and afterward Sam reportedly falls asleep before the car has even pulled out of the parking lot. Being a therapy dog is hard work: Sam goes from person to person offering furry hugs and listening ears. And while she may not understand every word, she’s still spellbound. Sam is also a catalyst for conversation, as being with her reminds folks of days gone by, when they, too, had a dog. Arlen is the one who gets to hear the stories, and he says it’s undoubtedly the most rewarding volunteer work he’s ever done. There’s so much to be said for slowing down and actually listening to people (especially those marginalized by society.) What an incredible gift! To learn more about Therapy Pet Pals, visit their website here. 

I have a lot to learn from Sam. She was able to shut out everything else and stay focused on one thing. One thing. How many times have I been a multi-tasking fool all day and then wondered why I have nothing left over with which to pursue my “one” thing, or even engage those I love?

Focus. Passion. Devotion. I’ll have what she’s having.

And about that happiness: where is a golden retriever happier than in the water, fetching a stick? I am so happy to have met these two, and may just tag along with them some day. There are lots of stories waiting to be told. 

Back fur. 

“Bone” appetit!

Meet Haven and Piper. These two little sunshines rock my world, so I thought it was only fitting to let them be my little test pilots. Hopefully this is the start of a brand new blogging chapter. Here we go!