The Wallet

Twenty-six years ago today my dad's heart stopped for the second time in a year.  The best efforts of then-modern-medicine could not repair and restart his damaged heart.  Someone likely handed my mother the contents of his pockets.  The wallet, his watch, his coins, his nitro-disguised-as-Excedrin went into the zip-lock bag and then into the cedar chest for safe-keeping.  A few weeks ago, Charles D. Offenbacher, the grandson and namesake he never got to meet, graduated from Olin College of Engineering.  In the cedar chest was also a cross pen engraved "Charlie O." that would go to young Charlie to sign important papers.  And that is how I found the wallet.

A folded $50 peaked out from between family pictures.  "Oh, did you find the fifty?" says Mom.  Yes, there was the $50 and three $100, another $50, and a $20.  "Where did he get that?"  And what was he going to buy?  I could smile, thinking of him laughing at our discovery.  I think he carried it because he could and because he might see a good deal.  Known to like car shopping and tools, he might see something he wanted like a lawnmower.  He was also generous and soft-hearted and might want to help someone out.  He loved to go to Reno and played poker with some success.  Maybe it was winnings?  Or getaway money.

So what to do?  I could hear him saying "take it to Reno and blow it!"  Carefully divided, the long-cold cash was given to the grandchildren.  Using the prices at The Jacksonville Inn, where chicken livers have increased in price on the Bistro Menu, the $210 would be worth about $630 today.  If it hadn't stayed in the wallet.  There is a lesson in how stashing your money is foolish.  On the other hand....

I don't know what Charlie will do with his lucky money, but Claire just looked stunned when she opened the note.  She tells us that she had been contemplating her summer trip to Las Vegas with girlfriends on her drive to Charlie's graduation party, lamenting that one friend was indecisive as the date drew near.  Claire was thinking about the $210 price of the airline ticket.  Could she swing it for a present for her friend?  Done.  Exactly airfare.  Grandpa Charlie would be hooting with joy that his cash goes to Las Vegas!

So here's to my dad and friendship and generosity and good fortune and a happy birthday in Las Vegas!

Satsumaimo R.I.P.

Satsu for short.

Our sweet-potato mostly-Siamese constant companion is not here this morning to hold down the striped blue and beige woven Alpaca rug that matched his coat and eyes.  He is not here to ring the bells on the front door to go out.  Or ring the bells on the outside to come in.  Only Chloe, the Schnauzer is available to get us off the chairs to open the sliders or check the bowls.  Interlopers will patrol the perimeter of the yard or saunter down the driveway without scrutiny.  The newspaper will escape the floor where it lies after being read.  Suitcases will be inspected only by TSA. Beds will lurch in the night without being held down.

Our social cat had enjoyed the company of the neighbors.  Able to open the sliding screen just enough to let himself in, he startled John one morning as he sat silently upon the bureau.  He liked to visit Marty, but she had the audacity to travel with Shadow who was not interested in guests.  Cats should be kept indoors, but he quickly convinced his humans that "just letting him out" was the easier road.  Living at the end of the neighborhood, cars weren't his concern.  Licked by a doe, he was tolerant and wary of the deer.  He earned the respect of two dogs who thoughts cats are to be chased or taunted.

For over sixteen years Satsu comforted and cheered us and protected the house in our absence.  His vocabulary and problem-solving skills amused us.  He was a good hunter of rodents and a watcher-of-birds.  A moving light was entertaining but only a feather with a human on the end was worth the chase.  There could never be too many beds from which to choose.  His own or guests.

We will miss him.  Best kitty ever.  Joining the others.

R.I.P. Brown-faced Boy.

March 1996 - June 2012

Eagle Brewery Feature

Moving the rocks. This is debris on the property of the Eagle Brewery. The surface rocks, moved in the past four or five decades, are being used in another historical location as part of a renovation. Beneath this pile is remains of an outbuilding. The dilemma is how to use the property and yet protect the historical significance and this feature.

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Game of a lifetime | MailTribune.com

Game of a lifetime | MailTribune.com

Kitty R.I.P. 22 November 2010

Supervisory Kitty was doing her job, standing watch outside the Studio. A passerby on foot startled her and she lost in the dash across Oregon Street. No one in the neighborhood knows her given name, but she and her sibling who died of natural causes this summer kept watch over the block. Some fed her and some may have let her in. She preferred The Booker House porch. There was much to do there. The new porch is on. Her chair waits.