A Father and a Day

The other night I woke from a bizarre dream. I was on a boat with my entire family right down to uncles and cousins and distant relatives on board as well. We were leaving. That was the sense. Not that we were going anywhere, but that we were leaving only something was wrong. Mom and Dad were not on the boat. We were still at the dock so I looked to see if I could find them and there they were -- my mother in the lead, my father right behind, and my sister behind him holding her little dog. My sister was laughing, my mom was waving, and dad was looking down at the water.

I thought Is he nervous about the water? Is his eyesight bad? Does he know the boat is about to leave? What does he see?

I knew they'd missed the boat, but I tried to make it up to the pilot house to let the captain know we needed to go back, that the whole family wasn't on the boat. But I couldn't find the pilot house or anyone else who worked on the boat so I stood on the stern and waved as the boat powered on its way. My mother was looking off in the distance, not in the direction of the boat, my father was still looking down at the dock, and my sister was still laughing, slapping her thigh as if she just heard the funniest joke.

No one waved back.

Then I realized it was all a dream. This happens to me often. In the middle of the dream I realize I'm dreaming and then I redirect the dream. This is my dream and I can make it do what I want, I say to myself and then whatever I want to have happen, happens.

So I made the boat go back to the dock. I didn't make it turn around. Instead, I made the boat back up or go in reverse so that I never lost sight of my parents and my sister. But once I'd realized it was a dream and that I had control of what happened, I woke up. My last image was of my father looking up from the dock and finally seeing me. He lifted his right hand slowly and ever-so-slightly gave a little wave then turned toward my mom and sister to let them know I was on the boat, but they didn't see me.

I'm never sure what dreams mean. I try to analyze them for some kind of meaning and with my father 81 years old, my mother 82, and my sister living across the country, there are a bevy of interpretations I could offer this dream.

I don't want to. Instead, I want to focus on the fact that I could get the boat to go in reverse with my thoughts alone. No need for a captain or a crew member, no need to find the pilot house or to alert any of my other relatives that our family was incomplete.

When I woke from the dream, I felt a combination of grief and confidence. The dream stayed with me for most of the day as we drove to my parents' house for the Father's Day weekend. I suppose it's rather ironic that my brother, who came with my niece, brought kayaks and we spent the first afternoon paddling the inlet where the current pushed us rapidly toward our parents' house. My brother and niece headed out on the boats first and as I stood on the shore waving to them, the emotions of the dream returned to me. I was sad, but hopeful. I was confident, but overwhelmed with the feeling that the tide was more powerful than my ability to change any course.

We had a great weekend despite my dream. We're boarding a cute dog this weekend named Argo, so he came with us as did our own dog, Rubin. They were both fun to have around with Rubin lying by my father's or my brother's feet depending on who was sitting in the living room. Argo hung out on the couch, but occasionally sat in dad's lap just long enough for a photograph.
We ate way too much (why can I never feel full at my parents' house?) and laughed a lot. We told stories, watched bad TV, and took naps.

That's how a Father's Day should be spent, I think, the sails not as full as they normally are, surrounded by a family all looking up.

A Matter of Money

Running my own business, a business dependent upon people and their money, has made me realize (though I realized it before just not this realized) we all look at money in very different ways.

Take for instance this client: Three cars -- two SUVs and a sports car -- one BMW, one Mercedes, and one Honda. There's money there, yes? Or perhaps it is locked up in car payments. Hard to say, but three cars and two people makes very little sense to me. Okay, there's a small child involved and an even smaller dog but the small ones can't drive. So while each adult drives a car, one car sits. The client said to me, rather off hand, "I'm not sure why I bought that BMW."

I'm thinking: Sell it.

Instead, I am asked to cut my rate for dog sitting. Not by 10% or 20%, but by 60%. Only, they didn't ask me directly. They accidentally "replied all" on an email and I got to see the request from wife to husband. "Perhaps we could negotiate the price?" she wrote and then offered a sum for seven days of work, a sum 60% less than what I'd normally charge.

I would have offered them a discounted rate since I know seven days is a long time and times are tough. I usually do this, but I wasn't afforded (interesting word) the opportunity. And it's hard to imagine cutting my rate by 60%.

Not when they have three cars in the driveway, two of which cost more than the full-time salary I made as a teacher.

Not when I inadvertently receive an email asking to negotiate my rate.

Or take a look at this client: Large house on the water. In large I mean at least 4000 square feet. Four cars which includes a Volvo for their daughter. Really nice people. They never once questioned the rate I charged for pet sitting their dog.

Okay, that works for me. I clear my calendar to make room for their dog since I only sit one dog at a time. Now they may want the dog back earlier, which means I cleared my schedule of potential clients who would pay me for the whole time in exchange for a dog who won't be staying with me for as long as scheduled.

Not a big deal to them...they get their dog back, but I'm out money. Money I could have earned from someone else.

I can't figure out if they just assume I have enough money and dog walk and pet sit for fun or if it never crossed their mind that $100 carries more weight with me than it may for them.

Or maybe it's both.

Or maybe it's neither. Maybe it's something entirely different. I can't tell, but in both instances I would not make the same choices.

I know this makes me sound as if I think I'm better than them, which is not my intent, but still may be how it comes across. I wouldn't own three expensive cars nor cheat my dog walker out of the rate she quotes me. I might cancel my boarding dates, but I'd expect a cancellation fee or even offer to pay part of what I'd agreed to pay originally.

What I've learned is that people with money and people without have a very different view of the world. I have one client who I know scraps together the money to pay me every month AND they include a tip. I have another client who balked at a rate increase, which was still half the rate I normally charge and yet every month she flies to San Francisco or New York because she "has to get away." And she NEVER tips. NEVER.

Money makes my stomach hurt. It always has. Funny how I end up here, dickering over money with people who view it very different than I do.

One View

Phoebe on the right with her fellow PhD friends.

Now that I'm 50 years old, I look at the world differently. It was inevitable, I suppose and I know I'm not the first 50 year old to feel this way, still it's curious to look around and assess the world from this misnamed halfway point.

Last night was our friends' daughter's (Phoebe's) PhD celebration at her parents' house. Doris and Stephen are like family and therefore by extension, Phoebe and her family are part of ours. For me, Phoebe represents energy -- the kind of energy I don't think I ever had even when I was her age (early 30s). In the past 5 years she has gotten married with a large wedding at her parents' house, she had her first child, and completed her PhD in Philosophy and Anthropology with a focus on shell fossils.

Just writing that paragraph made me tired. Was I that ambitious 20-25 years ago? I don't think so, but I know I could stay up later than I can now. I know my body didn't hurt as much as it does now. And I know I could eat a helluva lot more than I can now and not suffer the consequences.

But then I look at Phoebe's mom, the Grandmother to Phoebe's daughter Jocelyn. Doris is in her mid-late 60s and seems to have more energy than Phoebe. Two days a week she provides daycare for Jocelyn and two other days a week she provides daycare for her other grandchild, Maisy (only a few months older than her cousin Jocelyn). Occasionally she watches Elliot and like one of those relationship mazes, he is the son of her son-in-law's brother and his wife.
Elliot has a new baby sister, Penelope and while she has yet to stay with Doris and Stephen, her other Grandmother steps in.

This, I suppose, is what everyone thinks about when they define nuclear family and even though it's gotten a bad rap as of late, it's a pretty sweet deal. Everyone seems extremely happy with the arrangement. In addition to all the daycare, there's a weekly evening meal where the whole lot of them get together for a massive dinner that includes food fit for the vegetarians and the carnivores, the lactose intolerant and the gluten-free dieters.

Is this what I want in my life? No. I'm happy. I'm content. I like the relationship I have at home with Ann, with my friends, and with my biologicals. It all suits me and it does not wear me out...well, not on a weekly basis. But mine is just one view of family; Doris and Steven's is another view. Theirs suits them as much as mine suits me.

Yet, like a Venn Diagram we cross, sharing a family space of commonalities. Their family represents energy and laughter, and accomplishments. Mine represents the same laughter, but it's much more relaxed and settled. There aren't big things to get accomplished and though my niece may end up with a PhD at some point in her life, no one is working on such accomplishments while getting married and then getting pregnant.

Phoebe's homemade PhD cake (made by her mother, Doris) representing the three degrees of the three candidates - fish, charcoal and shells...yes, all edible.

Blueberries

I am eating fresh blueberries. I am in heaven.

There are two dogs fast asleep beside me. One is my own -- Rubin and he is tired after a big romp at the off-leash park including swimming in the river. The other is Marley who, if I didn't already have a dog, would try to adopt. That's the trouble with my work. Dog walking introduces you to many dogs as well as their families. Most families of the dogs I walk are responsible owners, but every once in awhile I am asked to walk a dog whose circumstances pain me.

Marley is such a dog and although I was never asked to walk Marley (I offered), it's very hard to put him back in his yard knowing he will spend the rest of the day (and night) there without much human interaction.

And so, as comfort, I am eating blueberries while he sleeps. I'm not sure if it comforts Marley that I eat berries, but he must feel how delighted I am in their sweet tartness and fleshy juice.

I have yet to see Marley settle down. This is a first. Usually, he is all over the place peeing to his heart's content as he is not yet neutered (yes, part of the neglect he faces in his life). I rarely bring him inside the house for fear he'll lift his leg on anything that smell like Rubin. Occasionally, like today, I'll let him in the house on a leash and then he walks wherever I walk. Now that I am at the desk, he has no other choice but to be here with me and so he's relaxed into a nice nap and I have let the leash relax as well.

There is nothing like a contented dog.
There is nothing like a neglected dog.

Both pull at me emotionally and thus, the blueberries.

Marley does not belong to the neighbors up the street. They are watching him for some friends. Since Marley is used to activity in his life, sitting on the back porch all day (and night) long is very boring so he jumps the fence and comes to our house. They've fortified the fence as best they can and while I've agreed to walk him for 30 minutes a day, he ends up getting much more than what the time I'm getting paid.

How can I turn him away?

He goes back to his real home tomorrow afternoon and I'm hoping the whole out-of-sight-out-of-mind effect kicks in. It will be nice to walk by the neighbor's house and not have to see the bored dog howling at me from the back porch.

But I shall miss him. He's a really wonderful dog -- so smart and loving and willing to please -- it's a shame he hasn't found a better home in this life. A home with loving owners who take him everywhere they go, train him to do tricks, and teach him to swim and fetch and roll over on command. A home that feeds him better food than kibble from the grocery store, who allow him to suck on frozen marrow bones, and toss blueberries in the air so he can catch them.

Maybe he'll find his blueberries in the next life.