This evening there was an event sponsored in the Galeria, a local art gallery. An artist brought a large black and white photograph of Berlin taken in 1927 and also a movie filmed that year. Since my mom was born in 1924, and lived close to Berlin I was particularly interested. The film documented many parts of normal life, from how newspapers were made, to people eating in restaurants on the street. Everyday life.
Right before the movie started I got a call that my mom had fallen in a park and had bleeding in her brain. We left the movie to go home to skype to find out more. Turns out she was in intensive care with two staples closing the wound, but the doctors didn’t think it was life threatening. They ended up sending her home a few days later.
We went back to the movie, but somehow the movie was more poignant. This was a depiction of my mom’s childhood, now she is nearing 90. She went from this idyllic black and white world on the screen, a time in Germany sandwiched between to world wars. It was a time when my mom would go on riverboat rides on Sundays with her family and take drives in the country in the fancy new car. From living a childhood in a time depicted in this movie, my mom went on to surviving a brutal war, immigrating to America, living in poverty stricken and violent innercities, giving endlessly to the poor, and raising her kids. A life full of a wide spectrum of experiences, ranging from traumatic to occasionally happy.
Then I was thinking, besides helping people, what has brought my mom the most joy in her life. The answer was obvious. The most of the joy in her life has come from her dogs, starting with a schnouzer in Germany, to the three dogs Sasha, Cricket, Heidi when I was growing up, to the doggie Cody who lives with her now. I think she has learned that a dog”s affection is more reliable than most people. Don’t get me wrong, she loves her kids and her grandkids. But when you ask her over Skype how Cody is doing, her eyes light up and she could talk for hours about him. No matter what has been going on in her life, I think she has always found joy in the consistent and uncomplicated affection of her dogs.
Mom going into the hospital was another reminder of my mortality. With this fresh reminder, we went to PanaRock with family and friends to listen to our favorite local band, maxing out the here and now of our lives. While I watched everyone talking, dancing, having a good time I looked around the room. It was mostly filled with working men, a few tables of younger men, one table of gringos near the front. I was feeling a bit sad about my mom and I wondered what might weigh heavy on the hearts of the other people sitting in the room. I know many of the young men have difficulty finding direction here and they drink heavily. For many of the men, they may be working jobs but can barely make enough to feed their families. It’s a difficult life here for many people. But no matter how poor you are here, you probably have a dog or three. Even the homeless drunk men often have a stray dog or two keeping them company, licking them, when no one else will go near these men.
The stray dogs here are a bit different. Yesterday Kier, her friend and I were walking to the church service. There was a stray who was walking the opposite direction. When he saw us it’s like he recognized us, like he had been waiting for us. He didn’t act like a normal stray, who is often used to being kicked or abused. He held his head high, and he didn’t walk behind us, but even with us, like he was an equal. He kept wagging his tail and escorted us all the way to The Porch. He seemed so smart, like he knew his purpose better than I knew mine.
Then I got to thinking about all the people like my mom whose lives have been greatly enhanced by the affection of a dog. I think especially of people who have found human relationshps difficult to understand and maneuver, and how the love of a pet brings incredible joy. I think about how dogs can be so crucial in certain times of a person’s life, like when my parent’s were getting divorced when I was a little girl and how my dog Cricket gave me great comfort.
Now not all of my friends believe there’s a God, but I do. I can offer no rationale other than I find it more comforting to live in a world where one exists. Now it’s likely, even fewer of my friends believe in guardian angels, but I do. I can offer no proof of their existence either, but find it comforting to believe they do. I need only look as far as the companionship, joy, affection that my mom receives from her dog, and that maybe, just maybe angels don’t have wings, they come in fur.