Summary of my children's picture book, "What ARE You, Frank?"

Nearing the end, mutt curmudgeon Frank reflects on his long life and the challenges he had faced. After being rescued as a lost puppy, Frank is rejected by his next two families. When Frank’s forever family adopts him, they are told he is a dachshund. But Frank just seems to be a bit different. When they bring home “a real dachshund”, Frank is hurt but determined.  Although none of his families could ever figure him out, in the end Frank remembers that he lives life on his own terms and truly knows what he is.

This is mostly a true story. In the photo on the left is mutt curmudgeon Oscar Mayer, aka Frank. He is most likely a "doxy-pin", a dachshund-mini pinscher mix. On the right is "real dachshund" Jimmy Dean, aka Pepper. Oscar is 16 1/2 years old, Jimmy is 15 years old. They are both very loved.

12/11/2023 - My SCBWI “member bio” on SCBWI.org:

A Years-Long Journey to Becoming an Author

When I was in elementary school, I enjoyed writing funny stories to share with my class. Their laughter motivated me to write more. 

Through the rest of school and into young adulthood, I just wrote for me. Except, while in college I did write papers in English on topics and theory in economics, and papers in Spanish on Spanish and Latin American literature.

After attending my college graduation at age 29 (with wife and children in tow), I landed a beloved job with Nike. For 15 years I corresponded with Nike endorsees – athletes, coaches, universities, professional sports organizations, and their agents. In the beginning, this was in the context of tracking and fulfilling contractual obligations to endorsees. Later, I was part of a team drafting and negotiating endorsement contracts. All this writing was extremely dry. Total accuracy and efficiency over any creativity whatsoever. 

I moved on to a much more beloved job as a teacher of elementary grade students and English language learners. When I needed published mentor text to use with my students, but could not find it, I wrote it myself. Total creativity with the necessary accuracy and efficiency. I loved writing for kids and dreamed of someday writing to be published. But I never seemed to have enough time and energy for that. 

Today I do.

Whether my years-long journey ends in fame and fortune, or just plain obscure anonymity, that does not matter. I’m having a blast!

Cheers,

David Waite

Greetings to the handful of followers of this blog. Oscar Mayer and Jimmy Dean continue to dearly miss Tootsie Roll. You will be happy to know that Oscar is now 16 1/2 years old and Jimmy just turned 15. They are still getting around. If they were people, they would be in an assisted living facility. I guess that's the way it has always been, since they do not like going outside to hunt for themselves. 

Their main person, me, is temporarily co-opting their blog because I need a temporary author website. When I can, I will create a proper author website and once again return control of this blog to Oscar and Jimmy. 

Cheers,

David Waite

A Celebration of Tootsie Roll

A Celebration of Tootsie Roll

Tootsie Roll was born in mid-2006. Her first home was on a farm outside of Forest Grove, OR. Being a standard dachshund, she probably had a lot of things to do and small animals to chase. At a lean 17 pounds, she was clearly active and happy on the farm, but her owner could no longer keep her. 

So we took our one dog at that time, Oscar Mayer, and drove out to meet… Dixie. That was her name at the time. Dixie didn't seem to think too much for Oscar (or us), but we decided to adopt her. Dixie settled right in with Oscar and us at our home in Beaverton. She immediately started putting on the weight, a problem she had the rest of her life.

But the name had to go. She was not a "Dixie". So as not to confuse her too much, we renamed her "Doxie". After some time to get used to the new name, we came to our senses and realized that Doxie was a dumb name, too, and that she did not care what we called her. We wanted to give her a name that really fit. You know the saying, “you are what you eat”. In our dog house “you are what you look like.” So, in keeping with the name Oscar Mayer came with when we adopted him, we re-named Tootsie for something she looked like... a great big Tootsie Roll.

Tootsie was very social and loved to meet new people and other dogs. If she didn't know you, she would come and stand at your feet with "hello, pet me" in her eyes. If you were one of her extended family peeps, then she loved to lick toes if they were not hidden inside shoes. If you were a child, whether family or stranger, she loved to get up on her hind legs and stretch out and up, trying to face lick. This usually resulted in the child falling backward and landing on their bum.

The funniest thing Tootsie ever did was when we entered both Oscar and Tootsie in a wiener dog race competition at Oaks Park in Portland. There were about 10-12 dogs in each heat and each dog had their own enclosed starting gate. Owners stood just beyond the finish line opposite their dog so that each dog had a "target". Oscar actually won his first heat (but did not advance through his 2nd heat) and won a blue ribbon. Tootsie? Tootsie jogged halfway down the line and then noticed that there were spectators standing along the side. She wanted to meet new friends! Not only did Tootsie come in last, she did not even finish the race. No ribbon for Tootsie, just some new friends.

Except for one thing that really annoyed her, Tootsie never "yelled" at any person or other dog. After we added Jimmy Dean to the family in 2009, Tootsie had to contend with two male dogs that sometimes took turns humping her. She put up with a lot, but once in awhile she would turn around toward the annoying offender and unleash a bark that said, "if you don't stop that right now, you're going to die!"

Unlike Oscar and Jimmy, Tootsie was not the best rodent hunter, unusual for a dachshund. While Oscar and Jimmy celebrated their hunting prowess with an occasional field mouse trophy that had strayed too far up from Fanno Creek, or the family of pet rats that a neighbor must have released in the area, Tootsie just wasn't into that. But there was this one time… Tootsie squirted her way though the front door one summer day. I chased down the street after her, but didn't have to go far. I saw that Tootsie had stopped at the curb a few houses down and was sitting waiting for me to catch up. Next to her was a squirrel that had lost a game of tag with a car. Tootsie's eyes said it all, "look what I caught, let's bring this home for dinner!"

It wasn't that Tootsie lacked a powerful sense of smell. She just preferred a different prey – her peeps. One time, when Zenny spent weeks out of town helping out after the birth of a granddaughter, I set things up so that the dogs would not see her come home. I put them outside and Zenny quietly brought her suitcase inside and then hid in the downstairs coat closet. When I let the dogs in, Tootsie saw the suitcase, ran right up to sniff it, then took off at full dachshund speed looking all over the downstairs for Zenny. As always with the hide-and-seek games we played with them, they found her. But in this case they did not know that we were playing this game. With the sight and scent of the suitcase, Tootsie knew that her Zenny was home.

Tootsie had the most unusual tail wag. While other dogs do a rapid back and forth, left to right, Tootsie excitedly greeted favorite peeps she had not seen in a while with something special. Tootsie’s tail wagged left to right and up and down all at the same time, in a random order. Her tail could hit every hour on an imaginary analog clock.

Each dog had their own favorite toys and ways of interacting with them. Tootsie preferred rubbery, chewy balls with a squeak. Unlike Oscar, who would rip the squeaky toy apart until the squeak was dead and gone, Tootsie would run and retrieve her squeaky toy, bring it back, chew gently on it a couple times, then invite you to throw it again.

Ever the alpha-female, who would barge toward the door to be first in or out, knocking Oscar and Jimmy to the side, there wasn’t much left of the original Tootsie Roll by November 2020. Beginning early 2020, we had Tootsie on medication for heart and kidney function, possibly dog diabetes. Beginning summer and continuing into fall, we began to notice other changes for Tootsie in her trajectory of decline. By the end, she had lost most of her vision, bumping into walls and other objects. She probably could not hear because our touch often startled her. She had lost her bark but, until the last several weeks, kept the “cuddle voice” she used to respond to affectionate touch. By the end she did not respond to Oscar, Jimmy, or us. We had to help her eat, drink water, and go outside or inside to pee and poo. She could still walk, with difficulty, but mostly wanted to walk in circles and find corners to stand in, searching, searching for the path to the rainbow bridge.

On November 15 Tootsie Roll crossed over the rainbow bridge. She was surrounded by almost all of her favorite peeps, plus Oscar and Jimmy. We all loved her. She enriched our lives.

Number 49 and 50!

I feel fortunate to have spent my growing years in 4 completely different and spread out places in the USA: Oregon, Virginia, Guam, and Colorado. As a family we enjoyed traveling to states neighboring our home state at the time, or, in the case of Guam, neighboring islands and countries.

Our 1966 move from Oregon to Virginia was actually accomplished with our family of four and our possessions in a U-Haul truck. Mom documented this exciting journey, which roughly followed much of the Oregon Trail in reverse.

I almost forgot about this one, and had to edit it in! While living on Guam in 1971, our family of now 6 spent most of the summer in Oregon and Colorado, while Dad was working on his PhD. at University of Northern Colorado. Our parents bought my brother and me $99 See America 3-week passes on Greyhound. I was 16 and Richard was 14. Starting in Portland, OR, we headed north toward Canada, where we rode from Vancouver, BC, to Winnipeg, Manitoba, then down to Greeley, CO.

Grown, married, and with two daughters, we continued to enjoy family vacation travels from our home base of Oregon. Both daughters roller skated competitively, and won state, regional, and national competitions. With family vacations and skating event trips combined, we traveled to Tulsa, OK, Philadelphia, PA, Lincoln, NE, and Pensacola, FL, as well as other non-skating vacation destinations with kids and without.

As D.I.N.K.'s in 2004 (kids grown), Zenny and I took a trek to the mid-Atlantic states and New England. Besides being a vacation, it was also a history and ancestry pilgrimage to visit old personal places in Virginia and old family history places in MA and VT. By the end of this trip, while mapping this and previous travels, I realized that I had been to 44 states. That's when it went on the Bucket List - I had only 6 states left, AK, GA, SC, AR, WI, and MI.

It took another 15 years, but I made it this June 2019. Wisconsin became number 49. Michigan became number 50.

(I wonder if Michiganders display that sign in Flint?)

In my travels I have thoroughly enjoyed visiting beautiful, historic Catholic churches and cathedrals around the world. We're talking Boston, New York City, St. Augustine FL, San Diego, San Francisco, San Juan PR, Mexico City, Manila, Brisbane, Montreal, New Orleans, and more. In my future travels I will actively seek them out in Europe and Central and South America. 

But I have noticed that the naming of Catholic churches, parishes, and cathedrals seems to be a challenge. There are so many repeats! How do we keep them all straight? For one thing, there are so many Catholic churches that include the names of saints:  St. John, St. Mark, St. Catherine, St. This, St. That. Clearly, there are too many churches and not enough saints. Not all names include the names of saints, though. But there's still a lot of repetition. 

I have a solution. I propose the following name suggestions in order to enrich and add variety to the naming of Catholic churches. 

Disclaimer:  I truly mean no disrespect. Just for fun.

Our Lady of The Glutinous Communion

The Indecisive Blessings Catholic Parish

Cathedral of The Indentured Messiah

Church of The Presumptive Baptism

Basilica of The Obstinate Virgin

Our Lady of Holy Repudiations

The Divine Subterfuge Catholic Parish

Cathedral of The Endemic Sacrament

Church of The Conspicuous Redeemer

Basilica of The Eternal Contradictions

Our Lady of Glorified Conflagration

The Cantankerous Prayers Catholic Parish

Cathedral of The Immaculate Assumptions

Church of The Conflated Salvation

Basilica of The Eternal Obfuscation

Our Lady of Capricious Servitude

The Dubious Redemption Catholic Parish

Cathedral of The Deceptive Conception

Church of Extravagant Incantations 

Basilica of The Immaculate Contraception

Your submissions welcome!

Memory's Ship by Harry Leslie St. Clair

Harry Leslie St. Clair, my great grandfather (Mom's Mom's dad), published a short book of poetry in 1922. I stumbled on it by accident while looking online for information about him. 

Memory's Ship

I'm master of a wondrous ship

    That sails a silent sea;

I've steered her course on many a trip --

     A phantom ship is she.

Where'er I choose in thought to rest,

     And view the scenes of yore,

I'm borne in safety on my quest

     To the desired shore.

In memory's ship I touch again

     The shores of childhood's joy.

The world as one big playhouse then

     Seemed made to charm a boy;

When curiosity was keen

     And every sense alert,

E'er sorrow's night had come between

     Or sin had left its hurt.

In memory's ship I sail away

     To lands I've known before,

Where friendship's joys made glad the day

     And love-light kissed the shore.

Where starlit skies and summer's breeze

     Were like an angel's court,

And kindred souls oft met at ease --

     I linger at this port.

When heart is weary and needs rest,

     I seek a distant shrine,

Where last a mother's lips impressed

     A kiss of love on mine;

Where first I breathed a humble prayer

     And answering peace was given,

My good ship memory takes me there --

     To me the gate of heaven.