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Mike

When my Dad was a young boy, he was swimming in the Stanislaus River were it crosses Highway 99. He waded in too deep and started to drown. His dog, a German Shepherd, grabbed his arm and pulled him to safety. That began a run of many German Shepherd dogs that graced our homes.

Mike came to us as a puppy. I remember Dad laying newspapers out on the kitchen floor and when we woke up in the morning, Dad rubbed Mike's nose in the inevitable poop and swatted him with a rolled up newspaper. About three days of that and Mike was trained to go outside to do his duty.

From the beginning, Mike had an engaging personality. He loved to romp all over our 40 acres. I roughhoused with him many times. He would hold his own by biting my arm, but would never break the skin. We both enjoyed fighting to a draw.

We had another dog, a mongrel named Scottie. Scottie was smaller than Mike, but he could hold his own too. I had to be about 12 when Dad let me drive the tractor down the street a little way. Dad was walking along side and Scottie and Mike were playing and tussling with each other. Then a second before it happened, I knew we were in trouble. Mike made a wrong move and was run over by the front tire and the huge back tire before I could stop the tractor. Mike took off and ran yelping like a banshee. We all thought he was a dead dog. I was surprised he could run. He finally came limping back and Dad took him to the vet. "He'll be sore for a few days, but should be just fine," came the diagnosis. I felt responsible and was afraid Dad would take a rolled up newspaper to me, but he understood. It was an unavoidable accident. Relief and celebration were the order of the rest of the day. 

Several years later, our neighbor across the street, Mr. Banks, a grey haired, gentlemanly, old farmer, informed us that two of his prized sheep had been killed in the night. Their throats had been chewed through. Although there was no blood on the muzzles of Scottie or Mike, Mr. Banks was certain our dogs had done the deed. Banks was very reasonable, but as there were no other dogs in the immediate vicinity, the conclusion was that we had to get rid of Mike. I assume Dad paid for the sheep. We had to take Mike to the dog pound and we knew what usually happened to dogs there. The next Saturday, Dad dutifully took our German Shepherd to the pound and Mike was gone from our lives forever, or so we thought.

Some months later, Mike came happily bounding into our backyard. He had escaped from whoever had picked him up from the dog pound and returned to us! Mike was the prodigal dog and we were overjoyed to see him. Even Scottie was happy. After a week, however, Mike disappeared. He was gone for about ten days, then suddenly returned. This episode evolved to where Mike would spend a week on and a week off. We were overjoyed when he came and sad when he left. We realize that whoever had picked him up from the pound had taken good care of Mike and that he had an attachment with his other family.

After more weeks, Mike began to spend ten days with us and a week with his other family. Then it became two weeks with us and three days away. Finally, Mike just stayed. He had chosen us! We felt privileged. I don't know that Mr. Banks ever saw Mike after his return, but no further complaint was lodged.

I was 16 when we moved from our 40 acre farm to more acreage across town. Old Scottie was taken to the pound. He was arthritic and in pain and we decided this was a good time to let him go. It would be better for Scottie too. I drove him the 15 miles to the pound. It was hard as part of my youth left with Scottie.

Mike was as happy as ever with our new place. Dad put in a swimming pool in the backyard and now it was fun to even swim with Mike. In the late fall, I remember wrestling with Mike. I had a thick coat on, but again, Mike would not break my skin. As lonely as life can get sometimes, my best friend was Mike. I went for walks and Mike would come with me. He was always there and never complained.

At Christmas, my Uncle Jim dressed as Santa Claus and was coming through the backdoor to surprise my young cousins who had come to our home for the holiday. Mike had seen Jim a number of times, but the Santa costume was new to him and Uncle Jim had to make his way onto the roof to save himself. Dad controlled Mike, who was in a rage and Jim came in through the front door startled, but no worse for the dog attack.

A couple of months later, late on a Sunday night, there was an ominous knock on our door. A neighbor said, "You're the house with the German Shepherd?" Dad answered affirmatively and we were told that a German Shepherd had been hit on the main highway about 400 yards from our house. Dad and I somberly took flashlights and drove to the highway. After a brief search, we found Mike's lifeless body in weeds by the side of the road. Dad and I didn't speak to each other, but lifted Mike's body into the back of our station wagon.

There was weeping throughout the house when we brought Mike home. We all agreed that there would never be another dog like Mike. There never has been. Finally, Dad drove the station wagon around the side of our barn and began to dig a hole to bury Mike. Dad was fighting hard to control his emotions. I had never seen him cry, but his chest was heaving in grief.

"I'll take care of this. You go inside." I figured that Dad wanted to be alone so he could let go of his emotions alone. I turned to walk back to our house. I didn't look back.

Utah

I'm on my way to Utah today. My batteries always recharge there. Beautiful mountains that take your breath away, wonderful relatives, great friends. I wish I could see them all.

Green. Where I live in Arizona is brown. Utah is green, at least in comparison.  There will be a conference I am attending, so my time with others is limited. I will be connecting with my college roommate, Craig Lewis, and an old college friend I haven't seen in 10 years. I'm also hoping to see some triplets.

Just 1 1/2 hours on the plane! To paraphrase the state song, Utah, I love thee (but I don't want to live there!).

Is There Hope in Arizona?

Over my protests, I have lived in Arizona since 1971. Actually, from October until the second week in June, it's a great place to live. As an observer of Arizona weather for 42 years now, I have made some observations that should make anyone who lives here feel a little better, especially in the middle of May. 

August-no temperatures over 120.

September-no temperatures over 115.

October-no temperatures over 110.

November-no temperatures over 100.

December-no temperatures over 90.

January-no temperatures over 85.

February-you're on your own.

NOTE: All of the above are generalities and could change due to global warming.

Despicable Me 2 revisited

or

Despicable Me 2 two

Some years ago, I worked with a young Hispanic woman. She was brilliant, talented and passionate about her ethnicity. I had worked on a film documenting the positives of our school. When the film came out, my co-worker was upset that no Hispanic teachers on the staff were represented, especially one who was very popular with all students. Justifiably so. I told her I was responsible for the content and that I had to agree with her. Our Hispanic students felt marginalized to a large extent and given the preponderance of them, I should have been more sensitive. As is usually the case, Anglo students didn't have a problem with making the school their own. 

I thought of my friend and co-worker this last week when I saw Despicable Me 2 a second time. The villain, El Macho, in the film is an Hispanic full of stereotypes and a heavy accent. Grue, the hero of Despicable Me, did not want his adopted daughter hanging around with the villain's son. It was all played for laughs, but I am surprised the Hispanic community has not raised a stink about the negative portrayal of Hispanic characters. The presence of an Hispanic character, of course, should be encouraged, even if the individual is on the wrong side of legality. But in Despicable Me 2, the Hispanic character is so full of stereotypes that it made me a bit uncomfortable. That is thanks to my wonderful co-worker and others who have helped me be more aware.

I am a Mormon. In the last three years or so, my religion has had its fair share of stereotyping, poking and prodding with the results being far from positive. Like Hispanics, blacks, women and other minority groups which are frequently demonized, I have become more sensitive yet to the plight of others who are are more frequently victims of thoughtless jokes, bias and bigotry. We still live in a tough society and any one in the minority still seems to be fair game.

How much damage will there be from this one film. Will those who watch it put El Macho into the cartoon category or will there be fallout in schools and neighborhoods across our country from further stereotyping. I fear the latter and if one Hispanic kid is demonized as a result. it will be one too many.

The villain in the first Despicable Me was a small fellow with glasses and a pot belly. He was obnoxious, but not stereotypical (unless geeks of the world unite). Some one has to be a villain, but I hope the next time movie makers are a bit more sensitive to the difficulties they might cause. While I am not an advocate of taking life too seriously, this stereotyping dimmed what was other wise a funny, enjoyable film.

Maybe they can pick on fat, bald, old men next.

The Zimmerman Verdict

I was going to write something brilliant and insightful about the Zimmerman verdict, but the Wall Street Journal did it instead:

An American criminal defendant is presumed to be innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, and that's the standard to keep in mind when considering the jury's not guilty verdict Saturday for George Zimmerman in the murder of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin.

The case has been fraught with racial politics from the start, but inside the Sanford, Florida courtroom, the jurors had to wrestle with the standard that is a hallmark of American justice. No one but Mr. Zimmerman knows what happened that early evening in 2012 when he followed Martin, an unfamiliar young, African-American male visiting the neighborhood. A scuffle ensued, Zimmerman shot Martin in what he says was self-defense, and prosecutors never produced an eyewitness or even much evidence to disprove Mr. Zimmerman.

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Getty Images

George Zimmerman listens as the verdict is announced that the jury finds him not guilty, on the 25th day of his trial at the Seminole County Criminal Justice Center July 13, 2013 in Sanford, Florida.

The verdict compounds the tragedy for the Martin family, but no one can claim that their son was not represented in court. The state threw everything it had at Mr. Zimmerman. Gov. Rick Scott replaced local prosecutors with a special team from Jacksonville, the judge often ruled favorably for the prosecution, including the addition of the lesser manslaughter charge (in addition to second-degree murder) at the end of the trial.

Still the state could not prove its case to the satisfaction of the six jurors, all women, for whom the easiest decision in terms of public approval would have been to convict. No less than President Obama had commented on the local case after Mr. Zimmerman was not originally charged by local authorities.

"If I had a son, he'd look like Trayvon," Mr. Obama said. He was echoed by hundreds of politicians and commentators who wanted to put racial profiling on trial as much as they did Mr. Zimmerman. But a criminal trial is not a legislature, or a venue to debate social policy.

Benjamin Jealous of the NAACP is already lobbying Attorney General Eric Holder to indict Mr. Zimmerman on federal civil-rights charges. To do so and win a conviction would require proof that Mr. Zimmerman was motivated by racial animus when the record shows little more than a reference by Mr. Zimmerman to "punks" in a comment to a police dispatcher.

Millions of Americans would see such federal charges as an example of double jeopardy, and a politicized prosecution to boot. In this context, it was good to see Mr. Obama's statement Sunday that "we are a nation of laws, and a jury has spoken."

The larger issue of how American society, and especially the police, treat young black males deserves attention and often receives it. There is no doubt that many law-abiding black men are eyed suspiciously in some quarters because they are black. The motivation may sometimes be racial. But such a discussion also cannot exclude that the main victims of crimes committed by young black men are other blacks. A policy like New York City's "stop and frisk" rule prevents more crime in minority neighborhoods against minorities than it does in white areas of Manhattan.

Mr. Zimmerman made many mistakes that February evening, not least failing to heed police advice not to pursue Martin. Despite his acquittal, he will pay for those mistakes for years as he defends against a possible civil suit and must wear a bullet-proof vest to protect himself from threats of violent revenge that he has to take seriously.

If there is any satisfaction in his acquittal, it is that the jurors followed the law's requirements that every defendant deserves a fair trial, even one who becomes a symbol of our polarized racial politics.

Movie Review

Despicable Me 2

I have three grandchildren, the only three with last name of Ross, who's birthdays all fall within one week of each other. What's more, their mom also has a birthday that week. We try to do things to make each birthday unique for them, but this last week I threw in the towel and just took them all to see Despicable Me 2. The first version of this two parter was one of my favorite movies three years ago. It was funny and original. The characters were well developed... oops, let me rephrase that. The characters were... delightful. The writers of Despicable Me created new creatures call minions. They have instantly, if you can call three years instantly, become beloved figures. What is a minion? Who knows, but they are funny and often have the best lines.

The main character in DM 3 is Grue. A former bad guy, Grue has adopted three wonderful little girls who make him want to be good. If Grue is an id, the girls are his super ego. They've brought him up a notch. Grue is captured  by a secret organization for the purpose of spying on bad guys. His partner is a woman he hates. The girls think since they live with Grue that he should get married. You can figure out the rest.

Some adults may feel they are too sophisticated for a cartoon, but this is one of the funniest movies in many years. Fans of raunchy humor will be bored, but my tastes are for clean fun and that's what DM 3 provides. The minions take center stage and are a combination of the Marx Brothers and milder Three Stooges. The minions rarely speak English, but have their own language. When they do speak English, the results are side splitting.

As we were driving away from the theater, the youngest of my three grandchildren said enthusiastically, "I can't wait for Despicable Me 3!" I told him it might be another three years, but as hinted during the closing credits, the next movie will be "The Minion Movie." Now I can't wait.