Some time before morning she slipped away after a long illness. Yes cancer. She would have been 78 years old this September 8, 2023. I think I will write an obituary soon.
Commentary
This was the original category for journalistic writing for the first of Ginny’s photo classes. I kept it up as a journal while taking some of her other classes. The subheadings were class topics of various other classes I attended. There is quite a span of time when I didn’t add anything here, and most of the photos for her classes were printed—I have piles of them. This category used to be called “Photo Classes” because the posts were more like a journal. I made this category into one of the subheadings under the “Photo Classes” heading. Some of this writing is sickeningly personal and totally not newsworthy.
In 2021…
…not in any particular order, there was rain, there was fog, there were early morning and late night dog walks, Mikela’s wedding, knitting, dog on the couch, taking photos out my windows, taking photos on dog walks, Maine Fiberarts, Thanksgiving with the family. And today there was Christmas.
Finding Feather
It wasn’t long until I found another dog. It was a year ago today, well, really a year ago on Election Day. Won’t ever forget that day. Although I do still miss Tippy and shed a little tear when I see photos of him. He was such a photo-bomber, in so many photos uninvited. I was tipped off about a possible older puppy by my friend Amy,
Tippy in 14 years of photos…
There are image galleries linked to each of these squares. All the images in the galleries are linked to large-sized slide shows if you have a lot of time on your hands.
R.I.P. Tippy
(March 6, 2006 – August 24, 2020)
It’s silly, in a way, to write this. Probably no one will read it, and if they do, he’s just another dog in the life. He was just another dog in my life too, but he rose above the other dogs somehow. I didn’t plan it, and I didn’t look at him and say, “You are going to be with me for 14 years and we are going to leave Maine together and go to the West coast.” I never said that, but we did and he was kind of the thread tethering me to that other life, the one that’s gone, he was the only living piece of it left and now he’s gone too.
I’m so sick of Covid
I have lived in what has been a slow, but evolutionary normal for 76.92 years, 76 years plus 11 months. In this speedily evolving and so-called new normal I know I won’t be alive to see the end of it. It might as well be considered the end now. There aren’t enough years left in my life to find out if it ever gets better. And what would be better?
Leaving The Ferry Behind
Even though I had already “retired” once back in 2008, I retired again (unofficially) right before the Pandemic of Cancellations started in 2020, I spent my last day working at my job for the Washington State Ferries at the Port Townsend dock, and wrote this the next day.
Hope Report and Musings on the Elder Years
Well, I have never seen a more unresponsive dog. She has not wagged her tail or barked since she arrived. Sometimes she seems interested in food or treats, but usually her head is down and she is plodding towards her bed or across the road when we go on our somewhat stilted walks in around the same block. It is hard to interact with her. She doesn’t mind petting and is receptive, but there is no response. Even her level of submission can’t really be called submission because she doesn’t wince or cringe or lie down belly up. This must be dog senility.