Crow’s Nest: We Live Only Once

Yesterday afternoon at 1:30 pm, Dody and Tom stood on our doorstep as expected. There was no Gail who must have been totally wiped out from her late flight from Hawaii.

It is our birthday celebration encore III for Tom, the baby of the three septuagenarian musketeers this year. It is scary to step onto the 70th threshold, especially alone. But with good friends and hearty laughter surrounding you, it is an entirely different matter. With that light-hearted aura, the four of us ventured out in Paul’s Rav4, just as we did more than a month ago. This time, our destination was not Riva on the Santa Cruz Wharf, but the Crow’s Nest at Seabright Beach.

We arrived at the Crow’s Nest on time and got the scenic window table that our hearts desired. It was after 2:00 pm, but the restaurant was doing pretty well, with nearly all tables occupied in the downstairs section. We had a superb view of the blue ocean, jetty, and Walton Lighthouse, all bathed in bright sunlight. From our window, we could see birds of all feathers resting peacefully on their favorite perch, the big pipe along the water leading to the harbor's ever present dredger.

Being in a seafood restaurant, we selected our favorite dishes from the nearby sea. Tom favored scallops, Dody and Paul chose seafood fettuccine, while I picked tempura prawns. Our food was so delicious and the whole atmosphere so congenial, we temporarily forgot our restrictions on gluten or starch, and enjoyed our lunch heartily. 

As usual, we enjoyed over not only our excellent food and scenic view, but more importantly, our companionship. Dody and Tom shared an identical view about the best restaurants in Watsonville, but differed in their tastes about music, especially about heavy metal. Dody is unequivocal about her preference, but Tom is more understanding and sympathetic towards his professional peers. He and Paul also shared with us their earliest exposure to music. It is simply precious to listen to their stories, and see their varying interests.

After leaving the Crow's Nest, we regrouped in our living room for a nice cup of tea. The sharped-eyed Dody immediately spotted the couch where Nick's family sit for their annual portrait/Christmas card. We all laughed at the fact that it was easier to control kids indoors than outside for serious photography. But the delay from drinking tea also brought a certain penalty to our guests on a heavily traveled Friday late afternoon. It took Dody and Tom more than one hour to drive a distance of ten miles from our house to theirs, even by side streets. But both of them were in good spirits, "... but we were warm and full from a wonderful lunch." We live only once, so please let us savor the moment, even though the moment can be unpleasant sometimes.

Riva, Riva, Riva!

Yesterday afternoon, Dody and Tom treated Paul and me to a relaxing birthday lunch at Riva Restaurant on the Santa Cruz Wharf. It is our second seafood birthday meal after our Crow's Nest dinner on Paul's birthday, November 3rd, with Ed, Fernando, and Nick. 

Soon after 1:00 pm, our door bell rang. It turned out that Dody's medical test ended a bit sooner than expected. So the four of us seized the day and repaired to the Wharf in Paul's Rav4 without further ado. To avoid a 30 to 40 minute wait, we decided to take an aisle table just across from the scenic windows. It turned out to be OK all the same, since the sunshades were already pulled down nearly all the way along the window tables, to reduce the fierce midday sun. With blue water still in sight, we started our delicious lunch and talk. 

Paul and Tom, having seen each other in person only once since COVID-19, had a lot to catch up on. They talked mostly about music, reminiscent of past music venues and concerts in San Francisco and Felton Music Hall. With his profound music knowledge, Tom pointed out several ironic selections of songs used inappropriately in TV commercials, such as Nick Drake's songs recorded inside his room when he was deeply depressed.

Dody and I concentrated on library talk shop. Unlike some retired library managers who have now all become heads of various Friends of Libraries, she is involved in a collaborative nonprofit organization called Village Santa Cruz County, or simply The Village. It is a network of seniors helping seniors navigate the changes, challenges, and joys of aging.  Each member has years of experience and wisdom that they can share with the others. She also told me that it was not advisable to head an organization of one's former profession, due to his/her professional biases or unfinished business. Dody is always a great mentor to me.

Four of us were all appreciative of our good meal, friendship and health. Our happiness is such that I saw smiling faces around us. It is simply divine and contagious to share happy moments with the people one loves.  After lunch, we did not leave the Wharf right away, especially considering the fact that Tom had not been here for over 30 years. We strolled from Riva to the end of the Wharf. Perhaps it is because of an exceptionally balmy November day, or because of the good company we kept, excitement flowed in the air. Even families of sea lions went out of their way to entertain us with their deep and excited cries. A couple of young sea lions kept trying to jump up from water onto their favorite wood perches. They were not in the least discouraged by their failed trials, but buoyed by the cheers and clapping from young human spectators, especially from those pretty young girls. 

We departed in front of our house, but agreed to regroup at Tom's birthday. What a great plan to look forward to! 

 

Take a French Village to Know about Invasion

Having been preparing for a long time to get together all seven seasons of A French Village from Santa Cruz Libraries, Paul and I are now finally over the hump, and marching towards the finish line. 

Courtesy of Prime Video

A French Village (2009-2017) is a TV series directed by Philippe Triboit and Oliver Guignard. It is a story about the German invasion of a small fictitious French village in Jura in June 1940, and it’s immediate and long term aftermath. To be honest, it is no small feat to go through a total of 72 episodes. It is not only because of its length, but mainly because of its heavy subject matter: the loss of freedom, purge of Jewish people from all walks of life, traditional families falling apart, as their wives or mothers were fascinated either by their German captors and collaborators, or by revolutionary movement. 

What strikes one are the numerous insufferable atrocities: waves of village hostages executed as a result of the rigid communist quota to kill German enemies in each city, brutal reprisals for Jew harboring, the November 11 Parade by the Resistance, emotional revenge on their comrade's family massacre, lives lost over the unnecessary destruction of the village bridge, and repeated premature celebrations of "final liberation" which only result in more bloodshed.

I am equally puzzled over the casual attitude towards unnecessary arrests of Resistance heroes, such as Marcel Larcher who was betrayed by his lover's incriminating farewell letter posted on a table at Chez Georges which was frequently by the police. Another casualty is Marie Germain who seems to be the calmest and most level-headed of all leaders. But for a split second, she loses her vigilance, and is captured while watching her team members strolling on the bridge that is never managed to be destroyed. As fate has it, she might have a chance of survival, when the Germans turn her over to the French police. But for some reason, she just cannot stop her verbal personal attack on police head Jean Marchetti who happens to be condemned as "Cannot be saved" by the Resistance group in a prior negotiation, and she is summarily executed.

In the show, almost everyone appears to suffer from a short memory: Daniel Larcher forgives his wife Hortense numerous times, so does Suzanne's husband Gerald. Suzanne is emotional and unreliable, with warning messages from the Revolution leaders from the very beginning, but she is still hanging around, proposing ill-conceived vehicle attacks for supplies, voting for wrong actions, and taking up with a much younger boyfriend after sending Marcel to death row. Apparently, the French Resistance forces are poles apart from their German occupiers as far as document management is concerned. 

What makes the show go on is its ill-disguised mockery and superb ensemble performance by actors such as Robin Renucci (Daniel Larcher), Audrey Fleurot (Hortense Larcher), Thierry Godard (Raymond Schwartz), Richard Sammel (Heinrich Muller), Marie Kremer (Lucienne), and Nicolas Gob (Jean Marchetti). They succeed in portraying a grim reality when one's country is invaded, through the microscope of a small village, which has seemed to turn into a nightmare cruise ship during the outbreak of Covid-19.  

Dear California: Harriet Eddy & The County Library System

Post Zoom Thought: Remember Our Glorious Past

On Thursday evening 5:45 pm, California State Library Foundation Executive Director BrittneyDawn Cook,  my former advisor at Berkeley Michael K. Buckland, Paul and I gathered together in front of our separate screens to get ready for a planned Zoom meeting presenting to the wider world, Harriet G. Eddy and California County Libraries. 

I

At 6:00 pm sharp, registered participants were welcomed in to the main screen. After brief introductions, I started to answer Michael's opening question why I became interested in the topic of researching on Eddy. Why indeed? It all started when I was writing Local Community in the Era of Social Media Technologies (Chandos; 2013). James Gillis, Eddy's mentor, was one of the three historical figures I selected for the book. My interest was intensified when writing Library Services for All Ages (Emerald Insight, 2018) to explore further Gillis and Eddy's efforts in creating a unified  county library system in California. The conclusion is simple: Remember our glorious past. Do not casually cast away a system that had been proven financially sound and scientifically designed by tests of time and practice. Or we will repeat the closure of libraries by the City of Salinas in November 2004, or a constant turnover of library directors who failed to understand conditions of their libraries.

I presented the outline meticulously revised by Michael and Paul. Seeing friendly chats flashing across the screen, I forgot my nervousness and decided to be calm and confident. As scheduled, I completed my 27-page presentation 15 minutes before the hour, for Q&As, such as what primary sources I used and what my next project.

The Zoom discussion was ended by Michael's stories about Philip Keeney’s California plan for Japanese libraries, a plan based on Gillis-Eddy model, and Laura Steffen's book about the history of the model. The audience feedback is positive. The followings are a few samples,

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"That was a great presentation, Hui-Lan! Thank you for sharing it with me, I enjoyed learning this important history" -- Amy

Great talk! Sorry, I had to leave early. I didn't know any of that about how the Library County System started -- Debbie.

"Congrats on your book and the Zoom broadcast. It made me want to learn more about the state and county library systems here in California. And isn't Watsonville still not part of the Santa Cruz County Library system?" -- Jim

"Enjoyed the presentation on Thursday. Makes you think about ALL the heavy lifting put into building an envious statewide library system that everyone now takes for granted. Hard to imagine a woman traveler, especially 100 years ago, going to Russia, etc. Must have been quite an adventure - and just to stay safe! And then meeting Lenin's wife !!  Very impressive" -- Michael A.

Merriment over Pleasure Point

This afternoon, Paul and I took a short break, walking along Pleasure Point. It was a perfect Goldilocks day out, sunny and breezy, not too hot or cold. In the variegated ocean water, groups of surfers were gathering wherever there were decent waves. On the land, however, only a few walkers were around, so the usually crowded sidewalk seemed especially wide and roomy. 

Not so sure of their ownership, two colorful photography ready-made frames were set up with some distance apart (As it turned out, we spotted the third frame by Moran Lake). From there, one could get unique Bay views as a natural backdrop. Out of curiosity, Paul and I inserted ourselves respectively in the first frame, and took photos of each other. When we were ready for the second frame, we heard someone saying, "Let him take a picture of you. He is a photographer." Looking around, we saw two smiling gentlemen, standing right there. "Sure," Paul handed over his iPhone. The gentleman clicked a couple of times and handed back the phone. The pictures were excellent. 

Photography by Mike

We thanked them profusely, and asked their names. "Eric and Mike," they answered in unison. 

"Are you brothers," we asked again, looking at their close resemblances.

"Twins, one month apart," they replied. We all laughed, at their good humor and at the thought of poor mother coping with these two rambunctious and naughty sons six or seven decades ago.

Eric and Mike. Courtesy of Titangos Photography

We walked on towards the 41st Avenue "Hook", and were immediately greeted by a merry Dr. Seuss character who stopped now and then to satisfy requests for photos. It must be a happy day, even the clown is joyful!

The Merry Clown. Courtesy of Titangos Photography

On our return, we were beeped at by a passing white car. In it, the twins were sitting merrily, waving us a heartfelt goodbye. Pleasure Point is indeed full of merriment.

 

So Long, Farewell Aptos Library

It was 6:00 p.m., last Thursday, July 8, 2021. I gathered together my coffee mug and purse, and went straight to the Manager's office to bid my final goodbye to Heather, the manager, and then to the familiar library surroundings, such as the circulation desk and half-torn down book shelves.

Aptos Library's Last Day in 2021

In Spring 1999, I was a hired as a substitute librarian for Santa Cruz Public Libraries. To be qualified, I needed to go through a 40-hour comprehensive class training, and another 40 hours for onsite training. Thus, Aptos, and Central became my two practice branches. In this very office, I was warmly greeted by the manager at the time, Julie. 

The branch had welcomed a series of managers over the last 46 years. For some unknown reason, most of them have developed a unique attachment to the place which rendered their departure a somewhat bittersweet experience. Established in June 28, 1975 at 7695 Soquel Drive, Aptos Branch Library was managed by Heidi in the first two decades of its history. Owing to internal politics, she was succeeded by Julie after the 1996 Measure B. In May 2010, Julie was replaced by her predecessor Heidi to become a reluctant Collection Development coordinator. But the homecoming dream did not end well with Heidi either, which is a story for another day. Under a new management (2009-2015), branch managers became PICs (Person in Charge), but resumed their former titles under another new management (2016-2021). Heather has been the newest manager of Aptos since 2015.

 

Heather and I

Instead of feeling a temporary displacement and nostalgic sadness towards the demise of a beloved library building, and its well-thumbed collections, Aptos staff have been exuberant and joyous. The reason is not hard to surmise. With the coffers filled with funds from Measure S, passed in 2016, the branch received its share of a total of the $67 million bond measure to remodel its building. But Friends of Aptos Library had a bigger plan. Starting from 2021, it launched a tireless campaign called Realizing the Promise to demolish the existing 8,000 square foot structure to build a 12,000 square foot brand-new library building furnished with brand-new collections. The extra capital funds are planned to come from private donations and 5% of customer purchases from Deluxe Foods of Aptos. 

Designed by Anderson Brule Architects, and built by Bogard Construction, the new branch is scheduled to reopen in late Spring 2023. 

Reunion with Fudan Classmate

Two days ago, June 17, Paul and I went to the Santa Cruz Wharf to meet my schoolmate Michael Lu for lunch. At 11:30 a.m., it was busy inside Riva Fish House, partly because of a sudden heat wave in the Bay Area, partly because of the COVID-19 restrictions being lifted in California two days previously. Our thirty minutes' wait list period was mercifully spared, for Michael had already been inside the restaurant to secure the table. He called my cell phone to warn us, but it was buried and muffled in my purse. Deservedly, I was downgraded to the lowest caste of those who do not use the cell often in our group WeChat.

I have not seen Michael since our graduation from Fudan in 1982. He has really changed, establishing himself from a news reporter to a successful family law lawyer. After a decades-long legal career and raising a family of four, he has sold his law firm and transitioned to a final retirement. Unlike some schoolmates who were selected by the university authorities to go to Cambridge or Harvard, Michael started from scratch by putting himself through law school, and set up his own practice in the state of Maryland.

Prior to out meeting, Michael always struck me as a little too self-satisfied. But, in person, he is sincere and soft spoken, quickly winning Paul's heart. Without any reservations, the quiet Paul readily narrated his own legal success with navigating through the troublesome INS for our two family members.

Owing to either his profession or personality, Michael is well-informed of the lives and achievements of our schoolmates of '77 and '78 in the Foreign Languages Department. It seems that everyone has had a go after graduation, either as top academies, or as ordinary professionals. The university equipped us well with its fame and quality teaching. Now we are facing the final equalizer: retirement and eternity. A brave new world!

Courtesy of Titangos Photography

 

Back to Berkeley to Celebrate Stanford Graduates

Last Wednesday, June 16, Paul and I went to Berkeley to celebrate our youngest niece Emily and her boyfriend Justin, graduating from Stanford University. 

It is an emotional trip for us both on multiple levels. It was truly a joyous moment for us all. Emily is the last in her generation to graduate from college. After our son Nick graduated from Berkeley in 2008, we did not visit there since. Since June 1996 when I left Berkeley for Santa Cruz, I had not lived there on a daily basis. Now everything seemed at once familiar and different. Many memorable buildings along Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive were all there, looking the same, but we knew instinctively that they had been changed with either ownership or functional purpose. 

At 6:00 p.m., we arrived at Josephine Street where my middle niece Stephanie and her boyfriend Tyler, were hosting the celebration party with due coordination with cousin Emily. They moved here during the COVID-19 limitations, with only a virtual tour of the apartment. But it was a cozy place for a pair of graduates. Since we were half an hour early, we put ourselves to use by helping the hosts clean, wash, and decorate to get ready. It was a hot day throughout the Bay Area that day. With the San Francisco Bay within the sight, it was actually quite pleasant on the roof deck. 

We were soon joined by Nick from Pleasanton, and much later by our guests of honor, accompanied by Emily's mother, my sister-in-law Sue. They were delayed on their way in from Napa, due to road accidents and commuting traffic. The food sponsored by my sister Hui from the East Coast was plentiful and delicious, just enough for the ferocious appetites of five young people plus their three elders.

Looking around at all five happy youngsters, especially the two nieces, one who starts her Masters program in the fall, while the other graduates next June from her doctoral program at Berkeley, Sue, Paul and I were smiling with an inner sigh of relief. For now, we have managed to complete the passing of the baton from our parents. The road ahead is wide open, though not without setbacks and obstacles. Hopefully with adequate upbringing, education, family support and their inner strength, they are able to go forward and onward.

Courtesy of Titangos Photography

Our Book Club

Unlike many book clubs, our book club does not have either an impressively long history, or a large membership. Evolved from a big Thursday dinner group in early 2017, it has only four members meeting one Saturday each month, to continue to talk about what was on our mind. The brief time at the monthly dinner was often not adequate for airing our thoughts fully.

The short history of our book club is punctuated by its frequent change of meeting locations. It started at each member's living room or kitchen, and then graduated to local libraries equipped with free meeting rooms or spaces. Scotts Valley Library had both small study rooms and outdoor decks. But some Saturday staff there were strict disciplinarians: we could not use a room more than one hour per day, even when all the rooms were widely available. Outdoor decks were free from the staff's severe scrutiny, but we had to contend with the fierce valley sun beating on us, or strong corridor winds. When we moved to Live Oak Library, we did not fare much better. There was no meeting space inside. Sitting outside the library, we had to endure both the direct sun, and glaring glances from fellow sitters who sharer the same seating preference as us. The location dilemma, however, has been magically resolved by the invention of Zoom meetings, since the March 2020 shutdown to isolate COVID-19. As our Zoom is free, we have to limit our book discussions to 45 minutes each month. In the final analysis, our freedom of space is won at the expenses of time.

I was no fan of book clubs, since my reading taste is not only peculiar, but also narrow. I felt it uncomfortable, and even invasive if anyone would suggest or recommend a so-called good book, as my firm belief is that personal reading choices are rather private. Four years of book club reading has transformed me beyond recognition. Not withstanding the writers' lightweight view toward academic science and disciplines, I have gone through books like Delia Owens' Where the crawdads sing, Brit Bennett's the Vanishing half, and Janet Skeslien Charles' the Paris library.

To my greater surprise, I have found myself slowly climbing out of my comfort zone, and expanding my horizons by reading our book club selections, such as Tana French's the Searcher, Arlie Russell Hochschild's Strangers in their own land, Kate Moore's The radium girls, Laura Moriarty's The chaperone, Ann Patchett's the Dutch house, and State of wonder, Lara Prescott's The secrets we kept, Wallace Stegner's Angle of repose, and Kevin Wilson's Nothing to see here. 

Our book club has also enabled me to be less discriminating but more tolerant toward life and the people around me. With the aid of eAudios, I am able to finish two required books per month. The bedtime book choices, however, are dedicated to my pleasure reading of favorite British and Scandinavian mystery writers.

Time to Re-Read Farewell to Manzanar

Last Friday night, my brother called me from Beijing, telling me that his daughter in New York was concerned about the anti-Asian violence, and wanted to do something within her power. "Ask her to read or re-read Farewell to Manzanar," I said. Recently, I have read Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston and James D. Houston. I found it at once timely and relevant, even though the book was published nearly fifty years ago in 1973, and its subject matter dealt with the mistreatment and detention of Japanese Americans during World War II.

Courtesy of Amazon.com

Along with her nine siblings, Jeanne Wakatsuki was born as a Nisei, the second generation of Issei, the first generation of Japanese Americans. Growing up in Santa Monica, California, she never set foot outside the county of Los Angeles until the Attack on Pearl Harbor (7 December 1941). Her father was arrested on the charge of selling oil to Japanese submarines offshore. Soon afterwards, her mother received an order to leave for a detention camp. The seven-year-old Jeanne followed her family to head for Manzanar, one of the ten American concentration camps to hold over 120,000 Japanese Americans from March 1942 to November 1945. Joined by the father who was released later, the Wakatsukis and their extended families stayed in the camp for a year and half. 

The deep-rooted racial prejudice against any non-white could trace back to 1870 when U.S. Congress granted citizenship to all free whites and African descendants, without mentioning any Asian nationalities. At her young and tender school age in Boyle Heights, Jeanne already sensed coldness from her teacher, and outright hostility from many Caucasians. Such hostile attitudes escalated with the outbreak of war after Pearl Harbor. She remembered, "Tolerance had turned into distrust and irrational fear. The hundred-year-old tradition of anti-Asian sentiment on the West Coast soon resurfaced, more vicious than ever." (page 18) 

If not at the insistence of Jeannie and her husband James, the Farewell never would come into being. In her Foreword, she mentioned the possibility of writing about the interment of Japanese Americans in the 1940s, but was flatly discouraged by a friend from New York who proclaimed was a dead issue. But the authors knew only too well there and then that eradication of racial inequity and prejudice would not be accomplished overnight, requiring generations' efforts. People might be issued out, as the her New York friend stated, for one generation, but the prejudice will surface whenever time and place are ripe, as with the George Floyd incident and Asian Hate crimes today.

Paulie Is Back Home Today

Around 11:25 am this morning, Paul and I finally set off for Pleasanton, to return 3-year-old Paulie, or Little Paul, to his parents and older sister. 

Big Paul was our designated driver, while I was sitting in the back seat with the Little Paul who seemed to know that it was the last day for his two months' stay in Santa Cruz. Just as he would do during our daily walk, he bid farewell through the car window to the passing airplanes, houses, pedestrians and vehicles. Unlike his usual cheerful self, he appeared serious and solemn all the way, until Highway 17's sharp twists and turns upset his stomach so much, that he burst into cries and a bit of car-sickness. 

Luckily I had in my purse two Ty Beanie teddy bears. Comforted by the soft Peace Bear, Paulie finally stopped crying and started to clutch his old companion, one of his five cuddly sleeping buddies. He was pleasantly surprised when given the brown Beanie Bear a short while later. Looking at his happy face, I could not help thinking of the simple truth that all things were created for a purpose. In the late part of the 1990s, I bought nearly a hundred Beanie Babies as a hobby for collectibles. Since the fad died down, some Beanies have been given away as baby gifts, some put in a box stored in the garage, and some others have languished in the display case, until Paulie came along. Peering though the glass after his first arrival, he couldn't believe his eyes and wanted to have them all. 

Over an hour later, Paul pulled along our son Nick's curbside. He and his wife Lee Anne smilingly appeared, and released their little boy from his car seat. "Paulie is back home!" Thus Paul and I completed our two-month childcare mission. 

Since the Covid-19 Pandemic, public schools have been shut down until very recently, while the private ones have offered only limited hours which severely interfered with working parents' schedules. For this reason, Paulie came to live with us beginning on January fourth this year. For two months, Paul was a full time butler, feeding his namesake grandson, and putting him to bed both for naps and for the night, while stimulating his mind with books, words, and exercise during the day. In the background, I was a half-time cook and cleaner. 

It is truly a rich experience to be reacquainted with the innocence of a three-year-old child, through whose eyes we have gained a fresh knowledge of Santa Cruz, its intimate neighborhood, open ocean, beach, enchanting flowers, plants, trees, and friendly people. Paulie's undiluted love for both people and animals is devoid of biases. He would say Hi to all passersby, including the sullen ones who could not help themselves but stop to smile and greet back. He would be full of joy at seeing every bird, cat, dog, and squirrel in sight. Even a raccoon statue in a yard did not escape his observation at Rodriquez and Capitola Road Extension. His daily admiration for the statue was such that the very house owner(s) moved the raccoon from inside the yard to the edge of road. Little have they realized that the fervid admirer is back home in Pleasanton!

Big St. Bernard, Big Heart

Pleasure Point is a haven for K-9s, and heaven for our 3-year-old grandson, Paulie, who adores his doggie friends and their kind owners.

During a lunch break, we trio, Paul, Paulie and I, strolled along the Point. It was a perfect day out, with the warm sun and cool wind. Not long after we got out of the car on East Cliff, Paulie spotted a brown & white St. Bernard. Up close, he was so fascinated by this giant that he stretched his hand, hoping to touch it just for once.

“Can he pat him?” Paul asked the lady owner on behalf of Paulie. “Of course. And he will like that too,” replied she. Paulie tentatively put his little had on the St. Bernard, and stroked very gently his wide and soft back. Paulie squealed with pleasure, and apparently the pleasure was mutual. The St. Bernard stood still, soaking in the soft touch and baby love.

The owner cautioned Papou Paul not to come too closer, for the St. Bernard was adopted with a history of abuse by a male. He was living the good life today, but something in the past still caught up with him.

Without any mishaps, but full satisfaction, we three bid our farewell to the St. Bernard and his gracious owner and resumed our Pleasure Point walk. In the far distance, we heard some faint calling. It turned out to be the lady owner who waved high a small green object. She was running alone to return Paulie’s sippy-cup dropped on the ground while he was patting his big K-9 friend. What a generous and caring lady! No wonder the once abused St. Bernard can live beyond a full age of ten.