My shadow, my friend

When I awake in the morning, he's usually at the foot of the bed. But not for long. He comes up toward me, each of us half-awake, gradually becoming alert to the possibilities of a new day, and he asks for attention.

I'll pet him on top of his head, and his back, while he lays comfortably on a pillow. When I get up, I sometimes pick him up and put him on the floor. His body is aging and is a little more brittle, as is mine. In many ways these days, we are a pair.

Before I retired 44 months ago, we were good friends, but I was gone to work each day, as was Jan, and so we kenneled him in the basement while we were at work. When we arrived home, he and Maisie were thrilled to see us.

Most days after we got home from work, we let the dogs out, we fed them, we settled in for the evening before retiring. Waking hours away from work on weekdays seemed much too short.

But I have spent much time with him in the recent past. When I'm home, he's right next to me. If I'm seated, he's in my lap, except for when he gets too hot with the body contact, or when I respond to, say, a play in a college football game.

Jan will suggest my reaction is like an explosion in the family room, and it can be positive or negative. Whatever. It frightens Moses, who leaves my lap and goes to Jan's lap. He looks at me with curiosity and maybe a little fear.

He protects me, whether I need it or not - I think he would give his life for me - he is brave, he loves to hunt. If he smells a critter below the deck, he will scratch at the wood in futility, hoping to reach what is beneath it.

Toy critters that make noise or squeak turn him into a madman. I have a couple small plastic balls in the garage that, when moved, utter weird garbled sounds like an evil gremlin. They're in the garage for a reason. The last time one was in the house, he had it between his paws and treated it so violently that he tore a hole in the fabric of Maisie's dog bed where he lay, furiously digging and biting at his victim.

His most recent obsession is a rubber rat we bought for the house for Halloween. It's life-size and it's black. I put it on the family room floor the other night, so see what he would do, especially whether he might be afraid of it. He sniffed it a bit, but didn't attack it. He wasn't real impressed.

A  tad disappointed, I picked up the rat, and went to return it to its place on the bathroom sink. On the chance that it might squeak, I squeezed it. That did it. He ran across the room and begged for me to give it to him. I didn't because I knew he would destroy it. Instead, I put it back on the sink of the bathroom where it had sat, and I returned to the family room.

Jan has said that dogs like toys that squeak because they're reminded of another animal in distress, an easy victim. I have found that to be very true and insightful, and I see it in full flower with Moses.

After I left, Moses stayed in the bathroom with the rat, got on his hind legs and scratched the wood surface of the cabinet on which the rat lay, and cried for me to give it to him. It got so annoying, I ushered him out of the bathroom and closed the door. That helped a bit.

I love his passion, albeit sometimes obsessive, I love the sense of fun, I love the friendship we've developed. Moses has many personality flaws - he has bitten house guests, for example, and he's the second-highest high-maintenance creature in the house - but on balance, I love him, I admire him in many ways. Good boy, Moses.

Braying a bit

As a college football fan who has experienced brief moments of exhilaration, but often frustration over the last 18 years, I'm afraid I'm gonna be snakebit in less than a week by what I'm about to say. But it deserves to be said.

For Notre Dame's football team is 5-0 this season, and they've done it primarily with defense. It's a talented bunch among the linemen and linebackers, and the secondary, despite its youth, has acquitted itself above  modest expectations as the season began.

ND spent a lot of time beating itself last year. It's nice to watch a football game that is played fairly consistently, with a minimum of turnovers (there were none last night in the game against Miami).

From NBC reporter Keith Arnold:

"Notre Dame hasn’t given up a touchdown over its last 12 quarters, holding Michigan State, Michigan and now Miami out of the end zone. The Irish defense is allowing just 7.8 points a game now, and has surrendered only three touchdowns on the season, the least amount in college football."

On Saturday, they face Stanford University at home. Against Stanford and USC, they simply have not competed effectively for at least the last couple years. But as it will be an accurate measure by which to judge this year's ND team, I'm looking forward to it. 

Go Irish!

Thank goodness it's Thursday

I have been semi-retired for over three years, and occasionally when I'm out doing this or that, driving surface streets for the most part, I glimpse backed-up traffic on the Haggerty Road viaduct overlooking I-94, and consider myself lucky. The road construction in southeastern Michigan over the last two or three months is unprecedented in my personal experience, and I've lived in the area for 35 years.

Beginning this week, however, I began to use other words to describe the road construction around here. They're not polysyllabic words, but they're colorful.

The good news? I returned to work at Ford Motor Company as a part-time employee, three days a week, and I'm thrilled. I work in Transmission and Driveline Engineering on Plymouth Road Livonia , and I have a Finance-related assignment that is both challenging and something desired by the organization, even at senior management levels.

Many moons ago, I began my career at Ford in the building to which I now travel three days each week, and one of my best assignments ever in my career was also at TDE in Livonia, several years ago.

The wrinkle? Getting there! Years ago, my commute from Belleville up I-275 was 25 minutes, with infrequent traffic backups.  Now, it's like traveling through a bombed-out wasteland where commuters inch along on superhighways, their eyes hollow with dark circles, blood pressure at unsafe levels.

at the beginning of my Monday morning commute, approaching the intersection of Huron River Drive and Haggerty, metropark entrance on the right, was a long line of traffic. It took three lights to turn left onto Haggerty, where I was stopped again by a train crossing the tracks. The train was moving slowwwwwly.

I took the ramp to I-94 east, not recalling what to expect at the I-275 northbound ramp. I was in luck - the ramp was scheduled to be closed later that day, but I beat the bulwarks, just this once.

With two lanes open on I-275, I figured it would be easy getting to work. But if I chose an alternative route, forget the Ecorse Road off-ramp - it's closed. I recall that that area got quite an upgrade only a few years ago when Visteon came to town. How is it that the road deteriorated so badly in a relatively short period?

When I reached the Michigan Ave. exit, traffic slowed to a crawl. Traffic on the on-ramp was backed up, and we slowed to a halt for stretches of time. Same at Ford Road, and just north of Ford, a five-car accident. If you think it's bad being stuck in traffic, try being those guys.

I reached Plymouth Road, treated myself to a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts, and arrived at work over an hour since I left home. There's gotta be a better way - literally.

Today, Thursday, I'm off work, thank goodness, although I do have a few errands, one that takes me to Ann Arbor. Hope springs eternal.

Living in the land of the Wolverine

The University of Notre Dame plays a football game against the University of Michigan on Saturday night, under the lights in Notre Dame Stadium.

The ND campus is a wonderful place to visit, especially in the fall on a football Saturday: the Golden Dome, the Grotto, Sacred Heart Basilica including Mass after the game, with the women's choir in the loft above singing in celestial fashion, Touchdown Jesus, the bookstore, a steaming brat, young families just beginning their own traditions, senior folk celebrating yet another year of Irish football, bright young people everywhere.

Over the years, living as an ND fan in the land of the Wolverine has seen its ups - last-minute field goals, Rocket Ismail punt returns (whether happened to exciting punt returns, by the way?) and downs - think the last three years, particularly last year, when Michigan, down 24-7 to ND, made a highly improbable fourth quarter comeback and won the game with two seconds left.

That's one of the things I've admired about the Michigan football team over the years - they don't give up, and they believe in themselves until the game is over. You may beat them, but in order to do so you have to continue beating them it until the game is over.

Denard Robinson personifies this quality. The Irish had him contained until the final quarter, but he could see that there was still time left in the game, when he began to torch Irish defenders until the heartbreaking, supremely frustrating climax.

This year, I'm hoping the outcome is different. The ND defensive line is special this year, and the offense has played mostly smart games, particularly with a new quarterback - the team has a positive turnover margin this year. I'm looking forward especially to establishing the running game, early. Not only is it sound football strategy, it's more fun to watch.

So, here's to my beloved Irish and a victory over U-M on Saturday, breaking their 3-0 losing streak to U-M and propelling ND to 4-0 on the season, for the first time in over a decade. Go Irish!

Tickets to my memories, part 1

I save ticket stubs to events I've really enjoyed, as a reminder of where I've been and what was important to me.

The latest ticket stub was from yesterday, when I went with Jan to see "The Dark Knight Rises," the last installment in Christopher Nolan's masterful Batman trilogy. I admire art skillfully conceived and executed, and Nolan did it in that movie. Clearly one of my top ten all-time favorite movies. Top on the list? Probably "The French Connection." Loved the look and feel of that movie, the NYC streets, the car chase, Gene Hackman.

The next ticket was one I didn't use, something I'd wanted to do for years - see the DSO in a summer outdoors concert. Our Kelly got us the tickets, but we were unable to go. Aaaaaargh. Next year.

Ah, a ticket from this year's boat show, a longstanding tradition among my friends - sort of a guys' night out. The boat show is the pretext; we're all looking forward to dinner. My son Matthew has joined us for years, but he was unable to make it this year. But Kel's beau Chris did, and it great to have him with us. And he said he enjoyed himself!

Just imagine: Amma and Pa on the lam

Over coffee in the living room this morning, Jan asked me if the Ambassador Bridge had re-opened. Reaching for my trusty smartphone, I confirmed that it had, after a bomb threat closed it yesterday.

We began talking about the very serious consequences about making a bomb threat. Jail time with a conviction has to be measured in years, don't you think?

Then we began laughing about our trying to pull off a bomb threat without being detected, and how we would be hopeless. We'd be identified by the authorities as "persons of interest" within an hour of phoning in the threat, the authorities having cleverly traced the call. We have no idea how to do such things in a manner that can't be detected.

Within 90 minutes, we would be identified as the suspects, and would be arraigned the same day. Bail would not be available, given the seriousness of the crime. We would be interrogated separately under hot lights.

If we tried to escape before being captured, we wouldn't get far. We thought about high-tailing it to our grandson Noah's house, with authorities hot on our trail. If the police arrived at the house, we'd run out the back door but when the police entered the house Noah, in his innocence, would tell them exactly when we had left, and the direction in which we were headed.

No sir, a life of crime isn't for us. If the moral transgression and the guilt that follows the willful commission of a crime isn't a sufficient deterrent, and we like to think it always would, then common sense would tell us that our lack of skills in this area, and the certainty of being swiftly captured and imprisoned, would tip the scales against a life of crime for Amma and Pa. Besides, we'd miss visiting Noah.

House proud, or, we'll rest when it rains

My wife and I have been working on the outside of our home for the last few weeks. The biggest project has been the wooden deck surrounding all but the east side of the house - 1,500 square feet of wood, power washed followed by sealing with 20 gallons of Olympic weather seal. The sealing's mostly done, and may be completed early next week.

The wood needs to be dry for 48 hours before applying the seal, and after applying, rain should not be in the forecast for another 24 hours. So you need about four consecutive days of no rain, not altogether easy even during this unusually dry summer.

The result has exceeded my expectations. The wood has seen much, it is true, but it's held up nicely. I like the shade of the wood and the simple honesty of the grain and the texture.

When you're nearing completion on an outdoor project, do you walk away from your home a short distance, turn around, and admire your work from the edge of the road? When we used to live in the city of Belleville, we would often cross West Columbia Ave. and admire our work from the St. Anthony Church front lawn. We still do it at our current home.

My wife Jan is implementing some ideas she's had for the front of the house, and it's working out nicely. A couple new plants, an old refurbished table and set of chairs, a little color, a little fresh paint, and voila! - transformation before your very eyes.

Jan had begun to say that our home had begun to look dull and uninviting. Each day, she grows increasingly happier with the result of our work, and we're on the right track, thanks to her ideas and our daily effort.