Amos: 1985-1996

Amos takes up a large portion of my memories.  I will try to do him justice by summing up those memories into one dedicatory entry.

Poor Amos was our family dog and yes, his real name was Amos.  He was unattractive and incredibly unlucky.  He was a mixture of about 14 other breeds of dogs, weighed 8 pounds, stood 1 foot tall, and was covered in charcoal hair (often shaved bald, often shaggy).

His most distinctive feature was his eye…his ONE eye.  Cars loved Amos.  They got the best of him on multiple occasions.  The first time that he got ran over, his eyeball popped out.  The veterinarian put that thing back in there, confident that it would stay.  Unfortunately for Amos his eye ended up dying and it had to be taken out permanently.  His used to be eyeball was now a flat hairy spot.  It took him a while to get used to his handicap.  Walls were not his friend for the first few weeks as he would take every opportunity to run into them.  Poor Amos.      

It probably wasn’t a good environment for a handicap dog to grow up in.  My siblings and I were all pretty young there for a while.  I have flashes of memories of one of my siblings (maybe me) grabbing him by the tail and swinging him in circles.  Looking back I don’t think that that would be super fun for him.  The dizziness added more walls when he was trying to escape.  Poor Amos. 

He had a hankering for cats.  Not the typical dog hates cat relationship, rather more of a love interest.  So much so that when we would leave we would have to lock our family cat in a bedroom.  Doors were just an obstacle for him.  After returning home from a short outing (to the store or dinner) we found a huge hole in the carpet where he had tried to dig under the door to get to his Juliet (aka Meicha the cat).  There is no doubt in my mind that he took a beating that day.  Poor Amos.     

Perhaps the cats that he would often have love affairs with imparted some of their 9 lives to him.  As I stated earlier, cars loved Amos.  Apart from the eyeball experience, our neighbor ran him over on two separate occasions (he came out miraculously unscathed).  Poor Amos. 

Unfortunately, cars were the end of Amos and the memory is one of my most vivid.  When I was about 12 years old I was doing the paper route with my dad.  At this point we had added Aspen, another dog to the family.  Aspen and Amos stayed with us very well when we were walking, so we didn’t feel like we had to put them on leashes.  There was a busy street that we had to cross and once we crossed it I looked back to see Amos (who was probably lagging behind because he had been flirting with a cat) joyfully trotting across the street.  I yelled for him to stay, but he would have nothing of it.  At this point cars were coming rapidly toward him and I distinctly remember seeing one car speed up to hit him.  It was all slow motion.  It was quick and painless for him I am sure.  I laid on the sidewalk bawling with Aspen as my dad went out and scooped up Amos.  We buried him next to our shed out back.  My dad was misty eyed and blamed it on dusty air.  I cried for days.  Poor Amos.          

If ever there was a dog that deserves Celestial happiness, it is Amos.  I loved that one eyed, unattractive, feline loving mutt.  May there be an abundance of cats for you to love in heaven!

Karate Kid (Roughly 1989)

The movie “Karate Kid” was released in 1984.  I would be lying if I were to say that I have never dreamed of a foe holding my left foot only to have me pivot and throw my right foot across his non-expectant face (via a Bruce Lee roundhouse).  Unless my legs get longer and my flexibility improves, that will forever remain a pipe dream.  One of the most famous quotes in that movie came in the form of a question.  After dominating Chozen in a big fight, Daniel-san asks, “Live or die, man?”  He then honks the nose of his enemy, fills Mr. Miyagi with pride, and gets the gal. 

 

My memory (Again involving Dusty Willis):

I believe it was summertime.  The weather was nice and my parent’s pop-up camp trailer was in the drive-way, hooked up to the truck, and ready for camping.  Dusty and I were in his front yard with another neighborhood kid named Tony.  I don’t know what led up to the Karate Kid moment, but I would imagine that Dusty and Tony got into an argument concerning legos or who’s dad is stronger, but Dusty was determined to finish it.  He went inside and calmly walked out wielding a butcher’s knife.  I likely thought that it was to be used as a tool to kill grasshoppers so I wasn’t worried.  Unfortunately, Dusty had other plans.  He walked toward Tony and said…”Live or die, man?!”  Of course he said that!  Perfect moment that would land you in jail these days…Probably back then too, but we were only like 5 or 6.

Anyway, Tony bolted up the street.  Dusty had won the fight…Tony won the war.  A few minutes later we were still sitting in his front yard (probably killing grasshoppers with the knife) when Tony’s siblings came trudging around the corner with angry eyes.  We bolted across the street to the safety of my front yard and hid in my parent’s camper.  The camper was down, so we had about 2 feet of space to fit 2 little boys in.  We hid, assuming that they hadn’t seen us in our hasty escape.  Of course they had seen us; I live about 20 feet from Dusty.  Our camp-trailer reflection period had lasted about 20 seconds when the door flew open, and the Tony clan pulled Dusty out by his little white leg and gave him a good ole fashioned beating.  Moral of the story…Don’t movie quote threaten people while holding a knife.  End of memory.                  

Roughly 1986...

I believe that this is my earliest memory.  My brain tells me that I was probably 2 or 3 years old.  It was traumatic enough to leave an indelible stroke on my tender heart, therefore, I will write about it. 

(Background that has not much to do with the story) 
Until I was 18 years old, I lived across the street from my almost albino friend Dusty Willis (aka Snow).  We were separated by one month and six days.  Our childhood was spent swimming in giardia infested ponds, talking about how someday we would be able to talk to girls, and occasionally fist fighting each other.  His house was likely haunted because the T.V. would turn on by itself at random times.  When you walked in the front door, directly to the left was a small window shaped opening that allowed you to see into the basement.  This window had prison style bars in it which protected small fellows from falling from mid-level 1 to basement.

(Now the memory)
For some reason my parents had the Willis family babysit for them.  My memory tells me that they left us for like 3 months, however, it was probably closer to 2 hours.  I can remember climbing on the couch and grabbing the (prison-like) bars that separated me from my parents and just sobbing.  The Willis' bought us pizza and lolly pops that had gum inside of them (two of the greatest things on the planet to a 2 year old), but I refused to eat.  There my memory ends.  Memory #1 is traumatic and not interesting at all. 

Clearly this blog will be a winner.  I already feel stupid about doing it.

Why

Yesterday at work, I sat quietly staring at my computer screen thinking about experiences that have changed my life...More about stories that probably have no impact on my life, but I can remember them and I got the urge to write them down.  Then I decided, "Hey, I'll do a girly thing and blog."  So for the next few months I am going to try to blog about things that have happened to me throughout my life.  These things may be life changing events or things that I weirdly think about often.  Enjoy my life.