Chris: The only other man

Few people know it but there was another man who's attraction could have rivaled Max. Now anyone who knows me may be shocked by that information, as I am well known for being devoted to my husband; still, it is true. Max knew, and if truth be told, I think that he loved Chris more than I did.
Chris worked with Max for over a decade at the company, Wainbee. He was tall, rugged but not handsome in the traditional sense. Still, he was irresistibly charming and gregarious. Max and Chris had bonded at work; a brotherhood of sorts, the men that did not quite fit the corporate image that Wainbee was trying to achieve.
I met him for the first time at the Wainbee Christmas party the year that Jarrett was born. He and his wife saved Max and I a spot at their table; every party after that was the same: the four of us together at the parties, dancing joking and generally making a nuisance of ourselves.
Chris had been a soldier in the Canadian forces special operations and I suppose that is what gave him a brooding, haunting quality; it frequently reminded me of Max.
I told Max once after a party that Chris was the only man that I had ever considered competition for him. In Max's usual foot in mouth fashion, he piped up without thinking first, "yeah, but Chris could have any woman!", the unspoken line being that "why would he want Max's frumpy wife, when Chris could have anyone! We still laugh about the "wrong" of that comment.
Over the years there were many Wainbee functions: golf tournaments, parties, dances, Christmas celebrations and we were always together; the renegades, yet always the life of the party. we would always stay over in a hotel room and invite everyone back once the formal party had ended and long after the older generation of staff had left. We became known for singing and serving Jack Daniels with eggnog, dubbed Jacknog. (later on Jack Daniels actually came up with this as a cocktail!we were onto something!) Chris would don sunglasses and imitate Ray Charles, belting out "hit the road Jack". to this day I cannot hear the lines "oh woman, oh woman, why don't you treat me right" without hearing his voice and seeing Chris as he sung it.
Max never said as much, but I know that Chris was there for him when we learned that Connor had CP. Chris had so many dark sorrows of his own that he could relate to the pain that Max was going through. I didn't know till later that Chris and Connor shared the same birth date.
our boys came to know Chris as the Cardassian (from Star trek not reality tv) because of his muscular neck and technical abilities that to their young thoughts seemed futuristic. He helped build a drawbridge crank for their fort, which converted him to hero status, so much so that they bought him his own Cardassian figure.

Although I knew that Chris had served in the special forces and had other deep buried pains, I never realised how deep those sorrows ran. I wish that I had. 8 years ago this week, Max got a phone call. He had left Wainbee earlier that year and had not been in contact with many of the people since, so we were surprised when one former co-worker called out of the blue. After hanging up he called me up to our bedroom away from the boys. the look on his face told me something catastrophic had happened. The next 5 minutes were some of the worst minutes of my life. Max held me and told me that Chris had hung himself earlier that day and was dead. If someone had punched me in the stomach, my reaction would not have been any less than it was that evening. We had several losses before, but none like this one. I sobbed and cried as I never had; Max holding me and rocking me as he cried too. I could not believe that this wonderful heroic man was gone from our world. we would never see him again, never hear his delight in singing, never dance in his arms; he was gone and gone by his own hands. I could not reconcile that he was so forlorn that he would choose death over life and I could not believe that we never knew how lost he was.
His wife allowed Wainbee to arrange the funeral and for some perverse reason had a co-worker that both Max and Chris despised give the eulogy. It was  polite, formal and nothing like Chris. To this day, Max will get angry if he thinks about Chris' funeral, so we rarely discuss it. Gail, Chris' widow gave us some of his things for the boys. Most precious was a black leather jacket that Connor still wears, mostly to make Max happy!
I miss him to this day and always hurt at this time of year and though Max never says so, I think he feels the same.
So, to honor Chris' memory, I vowed I would do my utmost to keep in contact with those that I truly cared about and make sure that the boys would make their Cardassian proud. I know that he watches over them, and I never hear the song "Hit the road Jack" without thinking of my other true love: Chris.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCxw79kUKpY

For Michelle: the wonder of work sisters and the miracles that happen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SxToTUoWGM


I have frequently commented that our family was not supported the way I felt we could be when Connor was diagnosed, and I have often observed that family is not necessarily created by birth (thank god!). this past year one of my work "sisters", Michelle experienced a devastating event: her younger brother in a brief moment of silly bravado, dove into a gravel quarry pond. He and his friends had not checked the water depth and it was much more shallow than they suspected. Steve broke his neck and was paralysed. He nearly drowned but his life was saved by his friends. he is now a quadriplegic on the road to recovery. he is a young man with 2 small children and is now facing an incredibly difficult future; a future that I have had a bit of experience dealing with.
Michelle and I had talked often about Connor and our family struggles in raising him, many times lamenting how so many missed the boat on how they could really help. mostly, I was just ranting but I like to think that on one thing she did listen
Michelle did something extraordinary for her brother: she organised a large fundraiser in their home town for him. I frequently lament how impractical people are when dealing with the disabled and how others will use fundraising for the most ridiculous of causes--sports teams, Jack and Jill parties, clubs and other luxuries that are simply optional not necessary! I was pumped; someone was helping Steve in a practical way, a way he could really use!
Steve didn't need pity or platitudes about how "inspirational" he was; he needed funds to help him through the long and expensive journey ahead.
In true family fashion, our birthing sisters and Doc's pitched in. Some of us donated various things for the silent auction: gift baskets, paintings, quilts ( in true Linda form, I got a basket of dog treats donated), and most of the birthing program bought tickets to the dance even though we knew that it was far out of town and we could not go. Michelle told me that from our hospital alone, she had raised over $1000. My heart was so full it almost burst. such a simple thing; yet such a  huge one. it was not just the money that they were raising that was so important but it was the large show of emotional support--people who truly cared--that was the true gift to Steve. Michelle said most of their small town had turned out to support Steve and many relatives drove for hours to get there. This was the real triumph of the night: the physical show of love and caring that showed Steve he was never far from a community of thoughts and prayers; he was not forgotten and he was not invisible.
I hope that if Michelle's mother reads this she will not mind if I am puffed up quite a bit with pride for my Southlake sister, because this week she was my hero for supporting her brother the way he needed to be supported; by listening, caring and showing concrete proof of her bottomless love!


if you are interested, this is the website that is still taking donations for Steve's Journey.

http://forsteve.wix.com/home#!donate/c1vud

Heroes go the distance-for Karen, Joey and all my other heros

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_aD8FUK4Jg&feature=fvsr


In some ways, Jarrett grew up fast. Having a younger brother with a disability made sure of that. he was asked to do more than others than his age, no matter how hard we tried to do otherwise, and he tells me that we did a better job than many other parents of children with special needs. He has learned this because the universe and his life path have led him to working with children with neurological disabilities. to this end, he was a camp counsellor and supervisor for 3 years at a remarkable camp in the Muskokas. This beautiful setting provided a safe haven for children diagnosed with Autism, Tourettes syndrome, acquired brain injuries and other equally significant neurological difficulties.it was an extraordinary place, which I believe settled Jarrett on the career life path he has chosen as a child and youth worker.
As you can imagine, he was surrounded by many like minded young adults, who were interested in the same things he was, including music. to this end, they formed a "camp band", complete with guitars, banjo, percussion and sometimes even a dulcimer. The played every Sunday night at a local bar. Fortuitously, it was on the way back from our property, and Jarrett invited us to sit in on the music, enjoy some wings and beer and sometimes even get up with the band and perform. I don't think that there has been a time when I had as much fun going out for wings.
During one of the Sunday nights, some of the teens that were clients at the camp came to watch as an evening out. One of the teen boys, who was autistic, asked if he could sing a song, to which the band whole heartedly invited him up. The next 10 minutes of my life there could only be described as magical.
This young man showed more courage than people twice his age or people who were called "Normal."
He took the microphone with confidence and told Jarrett he would sing the song "go the distance.'
For those who are not familiar with the song, it is the theme from Disney's Hercules. His voice was strong, pure and pitch perfect, never wavering, nor missing a single lyric. this is not an easy song to  sing. its lyrics change throughout the song, with even the chorus changing at some points and a change in key. Yet, this young man, consider by some as less than the rest, sang out confidently and proudly. I will never be able to hear that song again without hearing his voice, and I realised that the song was more than just a Disney cartoon to him; it was really the story of his life:

I have often dreamed

Of a far off place

Where a hero's welcome

Will be waiting for me

Where the crowds will cheer

When they see my face

And a voice keeps saying

This is where I'm meant to be

I'll be there someday

I can go the distance

I will find my way

If I can be strong

I know every mile

Will be worth my while

I will go most anywhere

To feel like I belong

Down an unknown road

To embrace my fate

Though that road may wander

It will lead me to you

And a thousand years

Would be worth the wait

It might take a lifetime

But somehow I'll see it through

And I won't look back

I can go the distance

And I'll stay on track

No I won't accept defeat

It's an uphill slope

But I won't lose hope

Till I go the distance

And my journey is complete

But to look beyond the glory is the hardest part

For a hero's strength is measured by his heart

Like a shooting star

I will go the distance

I will search the world

I will face its harms

I don't care how far

I can go the distance

Till I find my hero's welcome

Waiting in your arms...

The words of this song were what he was doing right there at that moment. He was climbing that mountain and conquering it all. He was facing down the fear, the prejudice, and the bullies and standing his ground, on his terms and no one elses. he was not going to back down, look back, accept defeat, going the distance to find a place to belong in the world; a world that rarely accepts and reveres children who are different.  In a word, he was my hero.

Yet, as I looked around the bar at the other councillors in the audience and more important, my sons face and the faces of those in the band, I realised that I was surrounded by a room full of heroes. The faces of the young people who had spent the summer and many others like it, providing a safe haven and a place to belong, positively glowed with pride and delight. it wasn't the selfishness that some might expect; that they had done this wonderful thing and look how good they were.After all, Sunday was there night off at the bar, where they were supposed to be getting away from it all. Nope, they were just so happy that this boy had the confidence and ability to happily get up on stage and sing. Jarrett did not stop smiling through the whole song. When he was done singing, the applause was thunderous and rivaled that of a rock star; I didn't need to look at Max to know that he was wiping tears from his eyes.
According to the dictionary, the definition of Hero is:

1

a : a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability

b : an illustrious warrior

c : a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities

d : one who shows great courage

People waste a lot of time making heroes out of people that are far from deserving. Actors, sports stars and other "famous" people, who in my opinion simply do not make the cut. You do not have to look to the magazines to find one; there are always those around us who "show great courage, and are admired for their achievements and noble qualities." That day, a young autistic teenager stood as a hero to an entire room full of people and humbled them more than words can say, and as always, one of my sons, My Jarrett, was mine.

A life without Music would be a mistake-Nietchze

“‘Music is a legal drug for athletes,’ claims Dr. Costas Karageorghis, an expert on the effects of music on exercise, at Brunel University [in London],” reports The Guardian. “In his latest book, Inside Sport Psychology, he claims that listening to music while running can boost performance by up to 15 per cent.”
Jarrett was in music lessons before he was 3 years old. I remember coming home from lessons one Saturday morning when my next door neighbour sadly said, that she wished that they could put her son in music, but they just didn't have the money! At the time, they were putting up new "carriage lights" on the garage, purely for show, since our houses came with lights on the garages. I looked at those lights, knowing that they were over $50 each and realised that, I had paid about the same amount for Jarrett's music lessons that month. Not enough money for music? Lady, Please! you should always have enough money for music! that's like saying you don't have enough money for food. In the long run, I was proven right: the carriage lights have long since been replaced more than once and Jarrett plays bass, guitar, mandolin, and banjo. Knowing Jarrett,, there are even more instruments that I don't even know about.

When Connor was finally diagnosed at 7mths and set up with the infant development program, the therapists always has the same question: "What are your goals for Connor?" being my usual cheeky self, my answer was also always the same, :I want him to play a sport; I don't care which one. I want him to play a musical instrument, I was thinking maybe trombone because I could move the slide for him, (for the record, Connor hates the trombone--traitor!) and I want him married and out of my house by the time he is 25. I gave him 2 more years than Jarrett because I figured it might take him longer!"
One particularly, forward thinking, Occupational Therapist, Michelle, was tickled pink by this response. Why? Most parents, she told me, answer thinks like "I want him to walk." My sense of hubris at the time allowed me to feel superior. Of course,, he wouldn't walk! but, I believed it would not be that hard to find a musical instrument of some sort for him to learn. After all, music was the most important thing in life! At least, to me it was. Thus, began a lifelong quest. But, by way of background, there was more behind my convictions than simply wanting Connor to fit into the Davis model of playing a musical instrument.
I had research to back me up!

– “Music education produces myriad benefits, strengthening kids’ abilities in reading, math, and verbal intelligence,” says PSMag.com (formerly MillerMcCune.com). “New British research suggests it may also teach something less tangible, but arguably just as important: The ability to empathise. In a year-long program focused on group music-making, eight- to 11-year-old children became markedly more compassionate, according to a just-published study from the University of Cambridge. The finding suggests kids who make music together aren’t just having fun: they’re absorbing a key component of emotional intelligence.”--

at the best of times, physical and occupational therapy can be boring, especially for a gifted child like Connor. it is repetitive,, with little immediate gratification and sometimes it is even painful. To convince a 3 year old, even one as intelligent as Connor, that these therapies are necessary, takes one of the best sales pitches you can come up with, otherwise, the child will stubbornly dig their emotional heels in and never comply. Because of the physical weakness of Connors chest muscles, therapists were always suggesting that we get him to "blow bubbles." Well, let me tell you, that you can only amuse a child such as Connor with bubbles for so long! I was forced to find a different solution: enter music. 

As is the habit of the universe, when I was looking for a music instructor interested in working with disabled children, I was introduced to a physiotherapist who was interested in using the Kindermusic program as part of physical therapy. 

It was a mutual beneficial arrangement. Connor was introduced to music with singing and rhythm instruments and she used aspects of both her therapy and musical training to work with Connor to improve his breath support and oblique chest muscles.

Although, the sessions had to end eventually, due to time constraints, it was a good start. Still, it was not what I had envisioned when I said I wanted him to play an instrument. The quest continued. I am sure that Connor was convinced that I had lost my sanity, as I paraded different instrument choices in front of him: Recorder, Tambourine, Dulcimer, Autoharp, and Keyboard, and although he seemed to get quite a bit of enjoyment from them, I know that he felt isolated in a family of musicians, not being able to join in. 

I was hopeful that perhaps he could use his voice as his instrument. But as one of God's great practical jokes, the physical implications of Cerebral Palsy even reach to the vocal cords. (the fact that many in my family cannot sing a note did not help).  In his teenage years, his singing voice could peel paint off the walls.

However, as always, Connor defied the odds and the barriers. Refusing to accept that this was an area that he could not excel in, he had friends, and sometimes even enemies, teach him vocalisation and enunciation. As part of Humanities degree, he studied the history of music as well as, aspects of listening and the nuances of musical composition. He was well known for stealing any music he could get his hands on and his iTunes library is so vast, he needed an external hard drive for it. His knowledge and appreciation for music rivals anyone that I know; and although a small part of me still laments that he cannot join in on one of our jam sessions, I know that there is no one else I would rather go to the symphony with!

So, if I was to meet up with the infant development team now, 20 years later, I would tell them that Connor not only met but exceeded all my  goals for him. He can swim and has his green belt in JuJitsu. he played electric wheelchair hockey. he has more knowledge than most about music and a pitch perfect ear. he even talks about getting a musical degree one day.

and although he has not gotten married yet, there is still time! After all, he is only 22!  his brother hasn't even moved out yet!

family, inlaws and outlaws

It is said that you can choose your friends but not your relatives. they underlying statement being that you should "put up and shut up." (cant say that I ever took that one to heart!) But, what about the family you do pick: your in laws. when you are young and dating or even considering marriage, people will say that you are marrying the person, not the his family. This is poor advice at best, and BS at its worst.
First of all, your mates family is him and he is them. Ask anyone who has been married a length of time and they will tell you that about 10 years into the marriage/relationship they started to notice that all the little things that bothered them about their spouse is also present in his close relatives; in my house we call these "Steelisms" (to be fair when I am annoying my husband he calls me Jim after my father; he is never foolish enough to use my mothers name, that would be fatal!)
While many people marry quick or spend little time with their in-laws and plead ignorance to this phenomenon, I have no such defence. Max and I dated for 6 years. when we first started dating, his sisters were 12 and 15. I have essentially watched them grow up, which is both a good and bad thing. I attended family birthdays, holidays, weddings and even funerals before we were married. I knowingly chose this family. But, something happened that I did not plan for: we grew up. we became adults and life happened. To say that our family has had its share of trials would be an understatement: 4 divorces, the deaths of both of my parents, a child with a disability and what can only be described as my father in laws descent into abject immorality and decay. (but this is a whole other book to describe properly. Suffice it to say that my father in law is an acquired taste at the best of times.)
I can honestly say that if I had designed  my mother in law, she could not have been any better. I have told her this on many occasions. Never, not once, in 29 years of marriage, has she ever interfered. Being the mother of boys, I complimented her on how good she was int he mother in law role, since I had been given a small taste of it when Jarrett started dating. She simply smiled and said, "It is not always easy." (she is a woman of few words!) I did not deeply consider her response at the time but came to realise later how hard it would be to keep MY mouth shut , if one of my sons marries someone like me! After all, my husbands family, for the most part, is somewhat subdued. Arguing, at least openly, is severely frowned upon (in my family, my mother called them "lively discussions!) and I know that I am kind of known for being loud, abrasive and at times, a little bit cocky. I am sure this causes a few tongue biting moments at dinner tables; although, I have also seen a few secret smiles and hidden giggles at my antics, as if my mother in law had wanted to do the same thing!
yep, as mother in laws go, I have a gem and I would definitely pick her again. I suppose that the relationships that I have struggled with the most over the years would be the sibling ones; both my own sister and Max's.
Ironically, one of the things that appealed to me most when we were first dating, was how close he and his siblings were. Unfortunately, I never had the same with my biological sister. nor, did I have a brother. so as we all grew into adults, the relationships evolved. Sometimes, not always for the best; but, not always horrible either.
If I had any complaint, I think most people would find it a surprising one: it is that I am not considered truly "one of them." That they do not consider me " real family." instead, I am some kind of pseudo-family type person that has attached itself to their brother.
I actually chose this family and one of the reasons I chose it was for the sibling relationships (and of course my husband!) I truly consider my in laws as my family. I wanted new sisters for I was never fond of the one my mother and father provided for me. Unfortunately, they did not choose me! Through no fault of their own, they had a very different and unusual individual, far from what they were used to dealing with, joining their family. I am sure that I am very different from what they envisioned their big brother would eventually marry.
So, although I chose them and consider them exactly the same as my biological sister and have watched them grow and us all mature into adults, the feelings of acceptance and belonging are not necessarily reciprocated. If one was honest, why should they be? Just like a biological family, this is a group of different and sometimes diametrically opposed individuals who are thrust together not through choice or commonality, but by marriage and procreation.
Max's family is an energetic, physically competitive, group of individuals. Even the children, share their lifestyle vision, and while Jarrett definitely embodies this vision Connor cannot and I don't want to. We are the cerebral, thinkers and philosophers of the the group.
As a result, even though this is my chosen family, the one that I enveloped as my own, I still do not fit in, the same way I did not fit into my biological family, and more often than not, I am sitting on the sidelines with Connor, (which is not always the worst place to be!).
However, the sidelines is not where you get to know people and as the years have gone by, the in law relationships that I chose because I wanted to have siblings to be close to and to be accepted by, have drifted apart.
So after 35 years of being with the same man, I can honestly say, for the most part, I would do it again. But, I would do it differently. Instead of going into my marriage with the expectation of being accepted and integrated by all as "one of us," I would know from the beginning that while in laws are a form of family that embodies the same expression: "you can chose your friends; not your family", in laws, unlike the biological family, have no obligation whatsoever, to put up and shut up. Nor, should they. Because, while you may have chosen your spouse and as a result them, they did not chose you.

Whats the hurry!

My job is one of waiting. It is not predictable and can take any amount of time that is needed. an infant being born makes it's appearance in seconds or days. Thus, I have become adept at hurrying when required but also learning a modicum of patience in others. Ironically, many would describe me as one of the most impatient people that they know, but I can honestly defend that with the response, "Only with stupidity!"
I did not come by any patience that I have easily and I think if I was to answer truthfully, any Zen attitudes that I have, I have acquired since raising Connor.
Before Connor, I was absolutely anal about being late; a leftover OCD trait from my father, who made sure we were always early. I was never without a watch on my wrist, which I checked obsessively, becoming stressed if I was even a few minutes late. Having a child with a disability will cure you of this habit quicker than any amount of therapy or chemical intervention ever could.
Physio, Occupational therapists, Physicians and clinics are never on time, constantly overbooked and understaffed. One late patient has a domino effect on the entire day. Preparing, packing and travelling with Connor was an adventure all on its own. Usually by myself or if I was lucky with Jarrett's assistance, I struggled in all weather, to load Connor, his wheelchair and myself into the van, only to face the unpredictable traffic of  Toronto. Most of the time, it was during morning or afternoon rush hour. Worrying about what time it was or how late we were, simply was not an option; at least, not one that would have allowed me to keep my sanity. So, in a swim or drown sort of choice, I gave up wearing a watch and stopped worrying about what time it was, when it would get done and whether or not I was late. Instead, I started making his appointments and outings into a kind of adventure, planning our route and time around our favorite haunts: a lunch at a special place or with special food, a shopping trip or a book reading there and back, (with the required debate along with it!), all to pass the time more pleasantly. it worked and it worked almost too well.
During the past two years, I have struggled with severe osteoarthritis, repetitive knee injuries and dislocations and finally a total knee replacement. As a result, I have spent many hours in clinics of my own, waiting again for Doctors, Physios and others. In fact, this blog was written during one such visit. However, there has also been a spillover. I am now impatient with the impatient people! I am intolerant of the sighing, toe tapping individuals in the banks or in the stores. I have few kind words for those who fail to recognize that everyone has somewhere to be and no matter how self important you think you might be, truth be told that it is just hubris. Everyone is important to someone and everyone has somewhere to be, everyone!
Why not make the most of the time while you wait? why waste it being frustrated or angry? Sing a song, read a book, plan a vacation or if you are like my husband, turn to the person next to you and talk pleasantly to them, maybe learning a thing or two!
After all, Whats the hurry?!

Hounds to the hunt

As I have mentioned before, we have hounds, and since having knee surgery, it has been my habit  to take them to the off leash dog park near our home early in the morning.The rationale for this is simple: there are fresher scents on the ground in the morning. Hounds are scent dogs. if you do not know what the significance of that is, I will enlighten you: their sense of smell is considered almost 10,000 times more developed than that of a human. in fact, their sense of smell is better than their eyesight. Hounds were bred, originally, to follow the scent of the prey and sound the alarm for the hunters that were higher up visually, usually on horseback with guns so that they could shoot the prey that the hounds had flushed.. For the modern day hound owner, at least those of us who are non-hunting suburban dwellers, this is problematic at best. I neither ride horses or hunt, so my hounds behaviour is at best entertaining and at worst, down right frustrating and annoying. Why? because, when a hound has caught the scent of game, be it rabbit, deer,raccoon, or whatever, nothing and I mean nothing, will get them off their quest. Nose to the ground, they will sing out their find to the others following the trail wherever it goes.
Small game rarely travels in a straight line from one spot to another, so without looking where they are going, the hounds follow the trail back and forth around never once seeing the progress or the fact  that they  have covered the same ground 20 times without stopping.there is no point calling them to come when they have the scent. Apparently, their sense of smell is directly related to their ability to obey and their hearing is selective. (not unlike some of their owners!)
so why would i be encouraging this behaviour and why would I get out of bed early, just to experience it? Simple, these hounds will run themselves silly, tiring themselves out, noses to the ground, without me walking a step. I sit on the bench, enjoy the coffee and the morning, confident that by the time we leave they will be exhausted for the rest of the day with their tongues lazily lolly gagging from their jaws.
It occurred to me, as I watched them, that some people's behaviour is comparable to my hounds. the remain single minded  on following their path twisting and turning, never looking up to see if the goal is there or if they have gone in circles.
Max loves to tell the story  of how, when walking the dogs in the winter, they flushed a deer. it was no more than 10 feet from them, but Mango, the oldest, supposed deer hound, never noticed the deer. Instead, snout firmly planted in place, she moved back and forth, yelling about where the deer had been.
We have all known that person; whether as a co-worker, relative, in-law or friend, they are the ones who never focus on the future or look up at what is right in front of them. Instead, the keep going in circles following an old path, without ever catching what they were really looking for. the complaints about their failure to capture their prize or reach their goals are louder than the baying of my hound pack on the bunny trail. Yet, if they would just look up, follow the straight path or listen to those around them, they would stand a much better chance of achieving what they really wanted.
those of us who are closer to terriers and bulldogs in personality, frequently butt heads with the scent hounds in our lives. We are the "eyes on the ball, never give up" sorts. we see that ball flying through the air and we run towards it, catching it sometimes mid flight, before it ever hits the ground.
When I was younger, I always thought that if I was a dog, I would be a beagle. Inspired by Charles Shultz's Snoopy, I envisioned myself as the playful dog that hunted the red baron, pretended to be a vulture, and licked unsuspecting, annoying people. But, as the mother of a child with special needs, there is no place for a  hound that never lifts its head off the ground, yelling and going in circles. That personality might fly with rich divorcees or Yuppie hockey moms, but this job, my job, the job of successfully raising a physically challenged child who is also gifted, it calls for a mongrel; hopefully, one with a bit of terrier, mastiff, border collie and sometimes even pit bull.
 this life requires that your eyes are always up and focused on the horizon, thinking about what is coming next and at times, being prepared to fight with all you have to protect or assist your young.  of all the moms of kids with special needs that i have had the Honor to know in my life, there hasn't been a beagle in the bunch and we are darn proud of it. After all, we would be of little or no value to our kids if we were always going in circles.

Maybe that is why I own hounds. Their ridiculous and sometimes pointless antics entertain me and show me that though it might have been easier, with less pressure to be the one that never looks up and just tells the guy on the horse where to shoot; it is much more fun to be the one that has the ability to catch the ball mid air while never taking your eyes off it!