Our Dog Bullitt

Though we referred to him as our dog, the family dog, Bullitt was clearly our brother's dog. Fittingly so; after all, it was Tony who delivered him from the trunk of a man's car, most definitely saving him from a trip to the animal shelter, or an even worse fate.

Tony was walking home from school with friends one afternoon when, only a few blocks from home, an older man standing by a car beckoned to him. "Say, boy," he called. Tony looked around, then pointed to himself. "Me?" "Yeah." He opened the trunk of his car. "You want a dog?" Tony approached and looked into the trunk. There was a little puppy inside, mostly brown mixed with black, with pointed ears that flopped down at the end, and a long bushy tail that curled. Tony reached in and petted him and the puppy whined excitedly and scrabbled to gain his footing. When Tony gathered the puppy into his arms and the puppy licked at his face, the bond was cemented.

Tony brought the puppy home, begging our mother, "Please, Mama, please can I keep him? I'll take care of him and I'll walk him and I'll feed him and clean up after him."

His earnestness was so convincing that Mama agreed to let Tony keep the puppy, and that is how Bullitt Parks, as his chart at the veterinarian's down the street read, became a part of the family.

When Bullitt reached full size he was not a huge dog, rather a mid-size German Shepherd-esque dog. As he was always scrambling to crawl into one's lap, however, apparently in Bullitt's mind he was a lap dog. and he had the personality and temperament of a lap dog, affection, high emotion and empathy. 

"Family Man" -- must-see holiday movie

"Family Man" was just on TV and I watched it again, of course.

Every year between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I look forward to three movies that tap into the holiday spirit within me: "A Charlie Brown Christmas," "A Christmas Story," and "It's A Wonderful Life." Like these three, "Family Man" is funny and sweet (what many would deem sentimental and corny) and it makes me weepy and wistful and wonder-struck. This is just what I welcome in a feel-good Christmas movie and so it has become, for me, another must-see holiday "classic."

In "Family Man" Nicholas Cage portrays hardcore yuppie-with-a-bullet Jack Campbell, who is living the really, really good life replete with expensive toys, automobiles and gadgets and the poshest of sleek, expensive New York condos. As might be expected, he is also as successful with women--in a callow, impersonal way--as he is in the business of arbitrage.

Jack was not always this person. When the film opens he is waiting for his flight to London for an incredible career opportunity. This means a year separated from his sweetheart Kate Reynolds (Tea Leoni), who is very afraid that their relationship will not survive their year apart. So when next we see Jack on Christmas Eve some years later, the fact that he has become this hard-edged, calculating businessman suggests that Kate's fears were realized.

Life as he knows it is comically upturned, however, when that evening he intercedes in a tense situation at a convenience store and has a fateful interaction with a cynical stranger (played with wonderful glee by Don Cheadle). He awakens Christmas morning to find that he 1) lives in New Jersey, 2) is married with children. and a dog, 3) works at a tire emporium, 4) is on a bowling league, and 5) is unable to buy Armani suits(!).

Is he stuck in an alternate reality? Or having a very intense bad dream? Or is it, as the Don Cheadle character explains, merely "a glimpse" of another existence that might have been?

Jack's hapless bewilderment at the many tedious elements of this painfully ordinary life is a comical delight to watch. Even more delightful is the predictable yet touching unfolding as he begins to realize how very extra-ordinary a life it is.

The charm of “Family Man” is in experiencing the fantasy of what might have been or what could be, if one rewound and took a different life path. Most of all, the possibility of a second chance at having a life even more worth living, with loved ones, and with oneself being a much, much better person, is irresistibly heartwarming . . . just what I'd expect in a movie for the holiday season and, in fact, for all seasons.

Peanut Butter and Chocolate or Limitless Abundance?

OK, so for the past couple of days I have been, off and on, looking for Peanut Butter Twix bar. Didn't come across them anywhere. Then this morning at Food Life I discovered a Chocolate and Peanut Butter Crispy Treat! Did I buy it? Of course. Is it delicious? OMG, 'swummaful.

Just what I needed, I thought to myself, another hard-to-resist chock-full-o-fat-and-calories treat!

But then it occurred to me that my desire for peanut butter and chocolate had been received and request answered. I prefer that thought.

So, as the Universe is pouring forth in response to desires expressed, how about this: Universe, I want more than enough money to spare and to share, plenty of time, boundless energy, satisfying creative expression, and love in abundance!

I know, I know: My desire for PB Twix was sincere in that I wasn't all knotted up about it, did not stress about whether I could/would ever have it or something similar (as in “This, or Better.”). There is, however, apparently doubt and fear--whether conscious or not--as to whether the above desires for money, time, energy, love are attainable, and the Universe receives and perceives this fearful doubt as my pushing away from rather than drawing near to the manifestation of my desires.

My 'takeaway' is that I’ve gotta practice feeling as “casually desirous” and comfortably confident of experiencing Love and Joy and the Effects of Money as I do about having a Peanut Butter Twix.

Acts of Kindness

Every once in a while procrastination does pay off.

I would have totally missed, for yet another year, knowledge of National World Kindness Week, November 10-17, had I not been still carrying around my November issue of Science of Mind magazine.
Today is December 1, yes, but I knew that there was so much rich content (as there is in every issue, and often there are articles that ‘speak’ to me more directly than others) yet to be read that I didn't want to put the magazine aside until ‘whenever.’ So I just flipped to the last page and there it was: “World Kindness Week” promoted by the World Kindness Movement (www.worldkindness.org) and the Random Acts of Kindness Foundation (www.actsofkindness.org).
Don’t you love it?
Just this past Thanksgiving Day Thursday, Oprah’s program (apparently a repeat from October 2006: http://www.oprah.com/slideshow/oprahshow/slideshow2_ss_challenge) showcased individuals who’d been selected to receive $1,000.00 which they were to use to help someone in need.
The ways in which the individuals gave their respective $1,000 ranged from treating a group to a sporting event outing to, for parents of seriously ill children hospitalized in Kapi'olani Medical Center in Honolulu, the purchase of four plane tickets so that they might visit their children.

There were instances, too, wherein an initial act of generosity caught fire and spread to others:

• Whereas the airline initially provided tickets for a handful of parents who were separated from their sick children, that airline wound up providing an additional 40 free tickets, so that even more parents were able to fly in to see their children;
• The original $1,000 to be given to a beleaguered family mushroomed to $70,000 as others added to the pot, in a sort of explosion of kindnesses being “paid forward.” ...

There were many other instances, too, and they all just knocked me out.
I appreciate these constant reminders that pop up for me. They reset my intention to attain and maintain a consciousness, daily and moment by moment, to commit random acts of kindness and, for good measure, maybe even a couple of senseless acts of beauty.
I (grandly) wish that each act would be large and life-altering.
For starters, though, I'll just try to act and to give from the kinder, gentler side of me with the expectation that over time this will broaden and will become more intuitive than intentional.