Jette, A new beginning.

7 10 2013

“and If you can’t be, with the one you love, Honey, Love the one you’re with” – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

I hope people don’t think I’m a hard arse.

Katie doesn’t even seem cold yet, and I’m getting another dog.

Yes, I’ve been here before, I’ve had a wonderful dog, who has died and it left me shattered.

When Laddie died, it bought my parents and I down, we sulked about it for weeks, Gone was our special boy, Half German Shepherd and Half Collie, The dog who could stand on concrete and bounce a tennis ball and amuse himself, The dog who would (wrongly) be allowed to go to the local park by himself, and return with gifts… a squeaky toy hammer, a babys dummy, a pair of mens red undies, a bag of garbage, an entire tree branch.

Laddie loved us as much as we loved him, and I still love him even today.

Losing that wonderful personality from our lives was gut wrenching.

I can remember my Sister being angry with us, “Oh for Gods sake, It wasn’t the bloody Queen Mother!” No, He was more special than that, He was OUR dog, He was family. But none of us said anything, and if we did, I don’t remember, I only remember the silence and how we felt.

Dad always took him for a walk in the evening, He never had a lead, but we never needed one. Laddie was as sharp as a tack and very well behaved… Well except with the dog across the road who he hated, a fight broke out twice in the park between Buddy and Laddie. I tried to separate the two once and that was a bad mistake, Laddie almost bit right through my hand, He’d bitten first, then understood later.

I remember his guilty look, I remember the blood and the pain, I remember My Dad (A huge, muscular truckie) almost passing out upon seeing all the blood, and Mum left to clean me up.

Mum was always the Nurse.

My hand swelled up like a tennis ball.

It’s what happens when you have a dog, and you just accept it… it was my mistake.

I was never quite sure whose side Laddie was on, I’d sit on Dads side of the table and tell Mum that I was pinching Dads tea, and Laddie sat there growling and showing me all his teeth… But then I’d say “Would you like some, Laddie?” and his face would change from angry to “Yes please!” as he licked his lips, only to resume growling again if Dad came into the kitchen and asked “What’s This?”

Laddie had cancer, and his frame melted away to a skeleton, He was taken to the local vet in the truck that Dad used for work, Laddie had never been in a car before, and although he was dying and in obvious pain, he was really happy.

The vet rang the next day with the worst news, which had been expected.

The Vet suggested that the best thing would be to put Laddie down, and I agreed.

I wanted to see Laddie and asked if they could please hold on and wait till I get there so I could see him one last time.

Mum had never seen me do anything like that before, I cried in her arms and she cried too.

At the time I wasn’t well and had to wait for my Dad to come back from work, I wrung my hands waiting for Dad to return, No Mobile phones back in the late 80s, at least not easily available to the likes of us who didn’t have much.

But with only a few hours to go, the vet rang again, to say Laddie had died.

I had missed him, it was awful. I had sent my best friend to the vet and he had died alone, I still feel guilty about that till this day, but there really was no way for me to get there by myself.

Coming home in the car, from anywhere,  and not having that big welcome he’d always give us was hard, and perhaps it was some relief to my parents when I bit the bullet months later, after I started to feel that perhaps we should, really get another dog.

Dad was missing the walks they went on, Mum missed the person she’d share a bit of cake with “If you die, Laddie, We won’t eat any” She’d say.

We received Laddies ashes, I think they were posted, but I’m not sure.

Months passed.

I bought home a newspaper and looked up dogs at the back, in the classifieds.

I found a listing for Alaskan Malamutes, phoned the number and soon I was telling the breeder (Loretta) about Laddie and how much we missed him. and she said, “We have a little one here called Benny”.

So Dad and I set off for Point Cook, not too far from here.

We stood in a little dish at the front door, to kill any parvo virus on our shoes and entered. There were pups everywhere, The poor mum had given birth to fifteen.

We were shown Benny, He was tiny, and fluffy,

He was a long coated Malamute. It’s considered a defect in the breed, as snow and water don’t fall off their coat, instead the coat would get soaked and if it froze, the dog could die.

For a companion, it’s not so bad, but they do need more brushing. Laddie loved being brushed more than anything, but Benny hated it, and so did Katie who was to follow, the two malamutes always told me off when I did it.

Dad loved him right from the start, I wasn’t sure, I still missed Laddie.

Loretta almost made me pick him up saying “He’s your puppy”.

While we were at the house, an Italian man and his teenage daughter turned up, I think Benny was about the last to be sold, but they were all too young to go to homes yet.

Mario, Lorettas husband, ushered Dad into a corner to do business, Dad handed over the cash and the deal was done, Benny was to be the first dog we ever paid for, they’d usually simply turn up, as Laddie had, Mums Boss found him at work.

Mario told us later “I’m Italian myself, and I can see Benny digging a den in Pappas veggie garden and that’d be that” Well as it turned out, Benny did dig a few holes, but they were generally tragic, never deep enough to bury a bone, which would be left with a sprinkle of dirt on the top.

Benny was a brilliant dog, and we loved him.

A month or so passed and we picked up Benny before Christmas, He howled all the way home, in Mums arms.

Unlike Laddie, Benny had rides in the car, Dad hated the idea of a dog in his nice clean Kingsw… oh, Sorry, Fairmont (I hope you got the reference) But Benny was welcome. Mum and I looked at each other, I’m not sure why, but Dad had softened.

So we often went to country markets at Gisbourne, Blackwood and Daylesford, where people always asked us the same questions, What breed is he?, Does he eat a lot?, Does he cope well in summer? Mum and I joked about printing up a sheet with all the answers.

While Laddie would be inside in the winter, curled up near the heater, Benny hated all heat and any trace of sunlight. He would lay on the concrete verandah in winter, or on the cold bathroom tiles, with his back legs stretched out to the back and his pads pointing upwards.

And unlike Laddie, Benny wouldn’t sleep in my room, I have no idea why, It was either my parents room or the bathroom. But he’d come in and sleep near me in the morning after his walk with Dad to get the newspaper, as unlike my parents, I was never an early riser.

Benny had a harness which had been hand made for him, it was made of leather and was lined with sheep skin, and I strongly suspect that the guy who made it, specialised in leather gear, for men, rather than for dogs… in fact it fits me perfectly.

Sometimes Benny would refuse to wear his harness and utter rude howls at us, until Mum spat the dummy and ordered him to “Get your harness on!” though sometimes that didn’t work either.

Then I’d say “Well Mum, I’ll wear this harness” and I’d begin to put it on, Benny would go quiet and give me a look like “Hey, That’s mine!”… then he’d settle and allow me to put it on him instead.

We lost Dad to cancer.

Benny was a comfort to Mum and I, and I was glad to have him with us.

Bennys legs went on him at around ten, his “wrists” were on the ground, and not held up like they should have been, and then his hips went.

One night he was crying in pain, he was actually saying “Oh No, Oh No, Oh No” over and over, it was heart breaking.

The vet was called, and there was nothing to be done for him, I held Benny close and the drug was given in our backyard, Benny was taken away in a body bag, Three of us had to carry him out, We passed by Mums bedroom… She was there crying with our neighbour, I had not expected it, I think she was trying to hide her feelings from me, perhaps because she felt that it might make me feel worse. Mum saw us and I heard her fall apart.

The bag was put into the vets boot, he was clearly upset too, offered some kind words, which I don’t remember.

I watched the car drive all the way up the street, and remember the red tail lights turning left and vanishing, I broke down.

A neighbour came over to offer some comfort.

Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with cancer.

One day the vet returned, He was a tall Indian man dressed in a suit, He handed us the box containing Bennys ashes, He offered us his condolences and sat with us for a while. I thought he was very kind to do that.

I decided that we needed another dog, and this was done fairly quickly too, I didn’t wait.  I consulted the internet, namely the Ozmals group on Yahoo (Yahoo groups were still cool at this time), I knew a breeder who’s girl was about to have pups, and several people were lined up for them… but she had one, just one.

I really wanted a male, so I hung off, I just liked boy dogs, I didn’t think a female would be as good, call me a sexist if you like… Katie was about to change my mind.

Katie had come up too, and unlike the other one, needed a home or would lose her life.

She had been begging food from staff at Pukapunyal Army Base, she would take whatever she could get and sleep in the nearby bush.

Where she had come from, nobody knew, Had she been dumped or had she escaped from a home?… there had been a horrible storm around that time, and fireworks too, she hated both.

The local vet had held her for longer than she should have, She had just put down a male who was apparently aggressive and she didn’t want to do the same to Katie who she thought was lovely and deserved a chance.

She had been driving Katie everywhere, looking for her owners, or looking for new ones, nobody wanted her.

I admit I dallied, Had I known what I know now, I would have taken Katie immediately, but it’s hard to know how a dog will be.

Someone bought Rhondas puppy, and that made the choice easy, I took Katie.

Everything was arranged and Rhonda bought Katie to us, sometimes I think Rhonda told me a fib, but if she did, I don’t mind at all.

We probably didn’t take as much care as we should have,Benny had been old and barely able to walk, but when he was young, he was as powerful as a train, or at least seemed to be.

So Katie bolted up the street and I thought that was it, nobody could catch her. but she saw a neighbour and wanted to say Hello, so thankfully she was retrieved.

Katie and I had some good long walks which I hadn’t been used to as Benny could barely manage the park, just a few doors up, as he got old and his body failed him.

About a month or so later, I had bowel surgery, and it wasn’t long after that that the radiation and chemo began.

I don’t remember much of Katie then, I was barely well enough to do much of anything.

I remember that she used to come into Mums room, and wrap herself behind the curtains, and fall asleep there.

She was a very timid dog though, she would act as if I was about to give her a belting anytime I raised my hand, she grew to understand that I wouldn’t hit her, and began to love me.

She loved her Mum, she’d spend a lot of time licking her… or perhaps she knew something then that wasn’t obvious to us, but was to her… Mum had been losing weight and getting frail.

I remember the day that my PICC line was removed, and that was a huge relief, it was always in the way, I never really had a good shower because of it, and it itched like mad where the sticky patch covered its external bits.

Although I still had the bag, on my body, and that was a nuisance.

As I recovered, Katie and I would go for nice long walks together, and it helped a lot.

Mum had had a few attacks where she almost stopped breathing, and an ambulance was called the second time.

I had found mum on her bedroom floor that morning, whacking the wardrobe with a shoe, hoping to wake me up, Katie was sitting next to her, confused and offering her paw.

The third time it happened, the ambos were too late, and Mum died.

Then it was just Katie, Vicky and I, and somehow, we coped.

Katie and I would generally go on big walks together, We’d walk to Seddon, or to the creek, which has a lovely dog park around it, sometimes I think I was online too much and should’ve been walking with her… but we did go out every day except if it was too hot or wet.

And people would stop us and ask questions, the same ones they asked us of Benny.

And in the evening I would feed Katie, which was one thing Mum suspected I’d forget to do.

She used to get doggy meatballs, an egg, and some milk.

Katie was very fond of milk.

And she’d sleep beside me every night, and I would be soothed to sleep by her breathing, and the knowledge that I wasn’t entirely alone.

Katies health declined, and I’m not sure why, She was slowing, but I could cope with that. I’d rather have an old slow dog than no dog at all.

I’m sure I’ve told you the story.

It lead to the night I dreaded most of all, She was crying, like Benny had nine years earlier, and I held my darling girl, and the drug was given, I held her to the end, until there was no life left, and wondered yet again, why I was left in witness and why I couldn’t have gone too.

Katie and I were inseparable,  and now we were forced apart, I didn’t think I could bare it.

She had meant more to me than anything, I adored her, I didn’t think I would, but I couldn’t have asked for anything to be so near perfect, I’ve been heartbroken for weeks, and lost, and wondering who I am without her.

It was always Katie and I, always.

I lost her in the car going to the vet, her eyes kind of went blank, and although she lived for two days after that, I know that she wasn’t the same afterwards.

So I sit here typing away with tears streaming down my face, some have said it’s too early, I am still grieving for Katie but know that I must try again or condemn myself to being lonely.

When I picked up Katies Ashes, The vet there said, that she doesn’t understand waiting, because there are other dogs who need a home, she said, it’s like your best friend dies and thinking that you wouldn’t find a best friend again… I’m not sure if she’s right, but I had been thinking along similar lines.

I know the drill now.

I get a dog, and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get one who will love me, and support me, though at this time I doubt that any would be as good as Katie… but I thought highly of Laddie and Benny too.

And then, on some dark day in the future, they will have to be put down, or simply die in their sleep. I’ll be fearing that if I’m to go  first, who will take my old dog? and who will take care of them as well as I did? I don’t care about myself, to be frank, I hate being alive but fear death, or perhaps, the dying. but I would like to end all the fears I have and be forgotten, as I will be.

Jette needs a home, I need a dog.


Love comes quickly

20 02 2013

A good friend of mine was missing his dog called Zed who died fifteen years ago today.

I fully understand that, I’ve had five dogs, which were mine, as in not one of my parents dogs which lived with us, but one of mine.

Tina the Fox terrier, who I had in my childhood. Who survived being run over in front of our holiday house when I was somewhere around five or eight and she had a scar on her side for years where the hair never re-grew. I loved Tina, but didn’t connect with her as much as with the later dogs, I was only a small boy then and my feelings were still developing.

Bobby the cross… probably German Shepherd and Greyhound, Who would go roaming in the evenings and joined a pack of vicious males in the early 80s, one night he ran away and we never saw him again.

Laddie the German shepherd and Collie cross, He was the dog I really connected with, He used to sit with me while I played my records, or listened to the high energy disco show on RRR-FM in the 80s. He’d go to the park and bring back gifts. a kids squeaky rubber hammer, a pair of mens red undies, an entire bag of rubbish, and massive branches which had fallen from trees. Laddie would amuse himself by bouncing a ball on his own, He was mad for all kinds of balls, even his own.

Laddie was the last dog which we allowed to roam, although Laddie would only go to the park and come home again, I think he went out one day and didn’t come back so that caused us all to fret.

Then Benny came along, the only dog we had ever payed for. He was our beautiful Alaskan Malamute, You all know Katie of course, But Benny was our first. It took me years to love Benny as I was still loyal to, and still missing Laddie… it took a long time to really love Benny, although perhaps I did anyway and just couldn’t admit it. Oh I was proud of him, He was a beautiful dog, and he loved us madly in return. Bennys breeder is Italian and suggested feeding him pasta, which we did. Benny would get his own Spag Bol and devour it with gusto and would drag the spaghetti all over the verandah while he did so. Benny hated the heater and would sleep on the verandah all night if we’d allow it… we wouldn’t because one night, while Benny was still a pup, someone tried to steal him, but we caught them in the act.

Then Katie came alone, and of course loving her was hard too, because now I had loyalty for Benny… and still missed Laddie too. But She has been such a loving, and grateful dog, that of course she wormed her way into my heart.

Anyway I wondered, they say you always remember your first love, but perhaps we also remember our first special dog too.

But in my case, there was no human love, perhaps because I had been bullied so much during my teenage years that I could never really trust anyone my age.

I still can’t trust people that much, I adore my friends, but that part of my heart is and always will be reserved for someone with four legs, not two.

People are strange and you’re never sure where you sit with them, and I really can’t be bothered trying to figure them out.

Yes Brad, I do, really understand your grief for a dog who passed away fifteen years ago.

I think sometimes having the lifetime a human has, is quite a torture to bare.

As for love of the human variety? They say that sooner or later it happens to everyone… it’s not true.


Human hypocrisy

1 01 2013

So I’m at Franks place and we’re having a talk at the table.

Frank is a farmer, We’re at his farm where he raises cattle.

The discussion swings around to people who are turned on by animals.

I knew an old bloke once who told me that he was in love with his horses, he spent every spare minute he had with them, took great care of them, and yes, sex was involved.

I once asked him if he thought his Mother knew about it, and he suspected she did, because after all, Mothers tend to know things… But she let him be just the same.

Frank had heard about it, “it goes on but isn’t talked about much” He said.

He disagreed with it because a horse or a cow can’t tell you what it wants. He felt it wouldn’t be so bad if the animal could agree to it in the same way a human could, it wasn’t consensual and that’s what made it wrong.

But I thought that if that was the case, would a Swedish speaking Woman think it was wrong to have sex with a Greek speaking man? is language any barrier to sex?

Animals communicate their feelings to people, My dog tells me when she’s hungry or wants a walk, or whether she’s scared or happy, I know she dislikes a bath but tolerates it anyway.

Later I thought about Franks cattle, He had recently had rubber bands put around the bull calves scrotums, so that their balls would drop off so their bodies wouldn’t be full of testosterone, which would make their meat tough.

How would a young bullock feel about being someones sunday roast?

I wondered where the article of consent was there?


The most photographed.

31 01 2012

I was given my first camera by Mum, it was a polaroid which shot eight photos, in black and white.

“Now don’t go clicking on everything” she said with that snapping tone in her voice, like she was about to give me a clip around the ear “save it for something special”.

So much for creativity.

I’ve been here before in other blog posts.

But this is about my dogs, I have had five dogs to my name over the years, Beginning with Tina, a fox terrier, Tina had the knack of photo-bombing down petty well and appeared in about five photos that she wasn’t really supposed to be included in.

There was a gap, and then when I was a teenager, asked Mum why we didn’t have a dog.

Well, Mums boss found some puppies and had been caring for them, She asked us to come over to her place one night, and that’s how we got Bobby… Who seemed to be partially German shepherd and Greyhound.

I think He stayed with us for about four years, but he was a randy bugger and tore off one night, He’d do this fairly regularly, but one night he never returned… We were’nt as careful with our animals in those days.

The strange thing is there are no photos of Bobby, none!

Then Laddie turned up, part German Shepherd and part Collie, He grew up to be very clever, very loyal and gave as much love as we gave him.

We have some instamatic pictures of him, a couple of very nice ones, but you can’t expect much from 110 film.

Then Benny came along, our first Malamute, and the only dog our family had ever bought.

Benny was wonderful.

Because I was starting to get into cameras at that stage, there’s quite a few shots of him in various formats, Instamatic, Realist 3D and very low res digital from an early Canon camera.

I got my first Camcorder at the time too, so he’s one of the rare dogs to be captured on video.

But I should have had a lot more digital photos of him, and I didn’t realise why until I realised that I had been stuck in a mind frame where we simply didn’t take many photos because film was costly… the film was gone (except for the 3D camera, and video for the camcorder) but the idea of reserving shots for a particular day remained.

I think what killed that line of thought was meeting @Wolfcat on Twitter, who took thousands of photos on a weekend trip.

I began to realise that I had heaps of storage, why shouldn’t I take more photos now?

People who know me, know that I love my pets, I adore them… so it comes as a bit of a shock to look through old photos and not find anything of some of them.

This had to change.

Along came Katie, and I was determined to take as many photos of her as possible.

I have photos and video of her from Pentax *ist DSLR, Sony HDV Camcorder, iPhone 3gs and Canon 550D… and although the plan was to get deeper into photography, and perhaps get work from it, I think if I’m honest with myself, I just wanted clearer photos of Katie.

So perhaps when I’m 90 (oh please no), I can look back and see photos of my beautiful girl.

I’ll end with a sad thought, in all honesty, Katie is the last… I hope my heart gives out when hers does, I really couldn’t take being without her… someone else can have the photos.

Photos of Katie, Here.


The Club

6 10 2011

There exists a club, which will take anyone.

You can be a Child or an Adult, gay or straight, a Mum or Dad, religious or atheist, black or white, a prince or pauper, Human or Otherwise.

You don’t sign up for it, there’s no venue, and you probably don’t want to be a member… I sincerely hope you never are a member.

You join it the moment you are told that you have cancer.

The astonishing thing about this club is that no member is higher up than any other member, we are all on an equal level.

And I don’t think anyone can fully grasp that until they have cancer.

I had this unusual thing happen to me when I was going through cancer treatments, I was watching the news one night and heard that Kylie Minogue had breast cancer.

We’re both from Melbourne, I’ve never met Kylie and probably never will, but I thought of all the little things that I had thought about in private, my fears, the things my Mother went through and the things I saw and felt when I watched others receiving chemotherapy.

Kylie was about to go through that, and I understood.

I heard others pass judgement about Her, but I knew that if I had cancer, I would have grabbed at every resource to fight it, I wanted Her to fight it, and I wanted Her to win, not just for Her, but for all of us.

Steve Jobs had put on a brave face for the public, He may not have been brave, I doubt any of us really are, but we continue because, what else can we do?

In private, despite his fame, his bank balance or what people think of him, He suffered.

He would have suffered like no Human or Animal should ever experience, physically and mentally, and he would have seen his friends and family suffer because of his illness.

All we saw was a man lose weight, that can be easily brushed off, can’t it?

I saw my Father go from a giant of a man, to someone who looked a lot like Steve did in the end. Mum and I lived with Dads pain twenty four hours a day.

Neither of us imagined that someone so strong, someone who could almost run at the age of seventy, with a large Malamute in front, could suddenly become so frail.

The public don’t see the full effect of cancer on a victim or their close family, and they really cannot understand what’s going on.

Steve Jobs, whether you liked him or not, never should have gone through that.

There will come a day when Medical Science will ensure that nobody will be granted access to The Club, and I sincerely hope You and I live to see that day.


Wolfies Theory

2 09 2011

Whenever I’ve been in a car, or even out walking, Sometimes I’ve seen something on the road or footpath which at first appears to be a bird, but as I get closer, find that it’s simply an old magazine or plastic bag.

While walking Katie (my Dog) home from the park, I saw something ahead of us which looked like a very plump fowl of some sort, possibly a pheasant, as there was a bit of red on what seemed to be it’s “chest” area, while the “wing” which flapped in the breeze was grey.

Up close it turned out to be an empty good-os box (dry dog food) in a grey plastic shopping bag.

Almost every time I see something like this, my mind tells me it’s a dead bird.

And I have a theory about this.

I know the brain has to make sense of what the eyes are seeing, and it’s likely that
our brains are keyed into looking for things which help us stay alive, or breed.
and so I reckon this bird thing is the old brain going “AHA! Free Tucker, I’ll have that!”

I’ve noticed that dogs also take a keen interest in the distant object, and will almost always pull me towards the thing, and then give it a good sniff, before deciding it’s not as edible as they first thought and carry on.

Perhaps now we wouldn’t think of eating a dead bird that we found on the road, but I feel that survival instinct is still there, just below the surface.


Choices made

25 06 2011

I think I would have been around fifteen when I decided that one day I’d become a Disc Jockey at a radio station somewhere.

One of the reasons that I wanted to get into radio, was to meet people who I knew from this side of the speaker or screen, a quick talk would be one thing, but a possible lasting friendship would be another, how cool would that be?

As you may know, I didn’t quite reach my goal, and many times I’ve said that it was my declining health which prevented me from going further, and while there’s some truth in that, I think I had another reason for dropping out.

I loved my family.

You see, new radio announcers generally don’t get their start in the city, which is where I live, but way out in “The Mulga” somewhere.

For those overseas, When an Aussie mentions The Mulga, or a place Beyond the black stump, We mean it’s far away, to put it mildly.

For me, a Melburnian, there would have been a good chance that I would have been posted off to Western Australia, Somewhere North of Perth. Several of my radio school classmates headed in that direction.

And I always knew it was on the cards, but somewhere inside I had this nagging doubt that I was any good, I got a volunteer job on a community station in Melton, Which was about an hours travel by train and bus. I was happy to work there, do my twice weekly show, write, produce and edit reels and reels of tape.

Somehow I never really considered that I’d go any further, I wasn’t being paid, but I was happy and I could go home when it was over.

Then someone at the station dropped the word that there was a scout at the station, the kind who looks for potential talent, and I was supposedly on his or her list.

This was exciting, but also frightening… I realised that I may soon have a full-time, paid job… but where?

It was the question of where which got the better of me, I gave up radio soon after.

The thing I wanted most, was to be with my family.

So here I am at home, years later, and the strangest thing is that I’m meeting people via twitter, and sometimes, in real life too. People who I never thought I’d meet in my life, and I love it.

But there’s a tinge of sadness that comes with it.

The person who understood me the most, was Mum, and I know if She had still been here that She would have loved to hear of the People I’ve met and spoken with.

Stephen Tobolowsky, Who has a depth to him which I would never have known about otherwise, Julian Clary a quiet soul who adores his garden, Boy George who seems to be rocketing off at an incredible pace to anywhere on the face of the planet, which I doubt I could have matched even at fifteen.

My Daily exchanges with Carol Duncan and Helen Tzarimas which I cherish, and this insanely long list of names who decided to follow me, famous or not, it hardly matters, it’s astonishing.

These wonderful people help to keep me going, and I am truly thankful for that.

I want to run to Mum and say “You’ll never guess who I met today”, But She’s not here.

Yes I can tell others, but it’s not the same, My parents “got me” it took them a long time, but they eventually did. They knew what I liked and who I liked and I’m sure they would have been impressed that I was finally getting to know people, like I always wanted to do.

While that career in radio passed me by, time with my Family did not, and I have no regrets.