In Loving Memory

No pictures or summary tonight.  I'll add them later.  Right now, I just need to tell the story.





I first met Jessica in Chattanooga when I was working my way through school at TVA.  Things went nowhere, dating-wise, but we still keep in touch from time to time.

In November of 2010, she posted a picture of a puppy on Facebook.  She said it had showed up at her door and she was looking for its owners.  About a week later, I sent her a message and asked if she had been able to contact the owners, and if not, would she mind if I took the dog.  She sent one back within a couple of hours and said to come get it, that her roommate had expressed an interest in keeping it, and that if that happened, she knew she would end up having to take care of it (she already had two dogs at this point).

It was a Sunday, and I was returning to Cookeville from the farm.  Chattanooga is considerably out of the way, but I made the detour, stopping at the Wal-Mart in Jasper to pick up some dog food, toys, and other things for the new addition.

I found Jessica's house easily.  When she opened the door, this little bundle of excitement came bursting out, rolling on the floor of her front porch, so excited that she lost control of her bladder.  I knew right then that she was a keeper.  I talked with Jessica for a little while, catching up, and gave her some chili that Dad and I had made that weekend, then went outside.  I put the dog on a leash (she already had a ragged pink collar that Jessica told me was on her when she showed up at her doorstep) and put a treat in the floorboard of my XTerra, near the door.  She climbed about halfway up into the truck (difficult for a puppy her size), and I helped her in and drove her home.  She trembled the whole way up to Cookeville (for as long as she was with me, she never got over her fear of riding in cars).

Justin (my boss, landlord, and dear friend) let me borrow a crate he'd used with his own dog, and I had her trained the next day.  She was always a fast learner.  I named her States' Rights, after a Confederate general who was killed at the Battle of Franklin during the Civil War.  I took her to the vet and they gave her a pill for tapeworms, but said she was in excellent health otherwise.  They gave her a rabies shot and I had a microchip put in her in case she got lost.

States lived with me in Cookeville for almost two years.  She was easy to train and loved being around people.  She'd run up and down the fence with the neighbors' dogs, often outrunning the Weimaraner, or jumping over Simba (the Golden Retriever who belonged to the neighbors on the other side of us).  I'd take her with me to office meetings in Lebanon and she'd play with the boxers there.  She and Millie (Wayne's dog) got along splendidly, especially once we started boarding them together during business trips.

I had a mind to train her to be a hunting dog, but I never could break her from being gun shy.  She'd come along with me up to the range at the farm, but as soon as she heard the first shot, she'd take off like a rocket back to the house.  But nothing got her more excited than if someone used her two favorite words: "rabbit" and "squirrel".  She'd cock her head to one side, then the other, and start squealing, then run up to you with that little curly tail wagging a mile a minute.  When I'd take her out into the fields, she'd bounce through the tall grass like a little bunny rabbit.  It reminded me of Pepe Le Pew bouncing after that lady cat in the cartoons.  It always made me smile.

I guess I should have seen it coming, and maybe I did a little.  I had a DNA test done on her, the kind where you swab the inside of a dog's cheek with a Q-Tip and mail it off, and then they tell you what breeds she carries.  The report card said she was between 18% and 40% beagle.  These dogs are known to roam, and they forget about the rest of the world when they have their noses on the ground, often to their detriment.

While I was camping in Australia, I got an email from Dad, with terrible news.  He'd been keeping her for me, since she loved being at the farm, and had even gotten her a playmate - an 11-month-old rottweiler named Roxy.  Marilyn, Dad's neighbor across the highway (who my family has known since before my brother and I were born), found States' body on the highway earlier this week, hit by a passing motorist.  Dad had already buried her by the time I got the news and called him.

I really don't know what to say.  I've cried some, and I'll probably cry some more.  I drank all the alcohol I had on me, and showed the people I was camping with some pictures and videos of States, such as when she was playing with a soccer ball, chasing after a frisbee, or trying to play with my brother's dog, Daisy.

But mostly, I smiled when I looked at all that stuff and remembered the good times we had together, for those all-too-brief moments when she was a part of my life.

On The Road Again

Today will be my last day in Melbourne for a little while.  I've got a rental car lined up through Travellers Autobarn, which I'm fixing to pick up in a couple of hours.  They gave me 3 weeks to get from Melbourne to Cairns, and since it's only 2850 km (around 1800 miles), I'm giving some serious thought of taking the Great Ocean Road over to Adelaide, then up to Coober Pedy and Alice Springs, then over to Cairns.

Things are going well over here.  It's chilly and rainy.  I have a newfound respect for people who transcribe for a living.  It's tedious work.  That said, I'm not sure when I'll resume posting my journal from the Matisse.

Yesterday I canned my Global Gossip account and got a prepaid SIM from Vodafone.  Neither Global Gossip nor Optus allow data services on their 2G networks, and my phone isn't compatible with some of the 3G networks in Australia (not to mention most of the outback is 2G, where you can get service).  Telstra had better deals on data, but Vodafone's network appears to be more compatible with my phone.  To my pleasant surprise, when I popped in the Vodafone SIM, I got a 3G signal, and data started working instantly (the phone is a Samsung Vibrant, model number SGH-T959).  If anyone in the cell phone industry reads this, I have 2 things to say:

1. Never require your customers to do any sort of manual setup to get data access (especially making them call customer service for APN configuration - I'm pretty tech-savvy and even I found it confusing)
2. Yes, I know we all like to advertise how our "blazing fast" 4G networks are coming soon, but when 90% of your service area is still 2G only, please be upfront with your customers about whether or not they can get data on the 2G systems.  We know it will be slow, and that's okay.

Shout-outs to all the people I've met so far in Australia and the ones back home (and apologies if I've missed any names here):

• to Siobhan and all the girls at the Last Jar: thanks for all the beer, and your food is incredible
• to Khloe at Work n Holiday: Thanks for all the help
• to Steph, Sissy, and Emma, who I met at the Drunken Poet last Thursday
• to Ben and Kelly, who I met at the Last Jar
• to Tanja, who I met at the Workers Club
• to Kristof, who used to work at the YHA and was my roommate for a few days (they sang to him over the intercom when he checked out)
• to Fabio, my roommate for a few days.  Hopefully you can learn enough English to get behind a bar and flip some bottles
• To Lisa, my roommate for a few days.  Here's to a speedy recovery, and good luck on your research
• To Jared, who I met at the YHA.  Good luck on the rigs.
• To the two girls from Colorado I met Tuesday night (one was Susan, I never got the other girl's name).  Thanks for staying for the 2nd half of the show and coming up to the front with us
• To Robert, who I met at the YHA.  Thanks for suggesting we meet the Nelson twins
• To The Nelson Twins: Your act at The Comedy Lounge was great, and I did see you on TV Wednesday night.  Best of luck to you on Australia's Got Talent, and I hope it leads to lots of touring!
• To Neville from the UK, who I met at the YHA.  Safe travels.
• To Judith from Switzerland, who was my roommate for a few days.  Safe travels, and look me up if you ever get to the USA.
• To Mike.  It was nice to finally meet you.  Best of luck with your knee - here's to a speedy recovery and lots of good times chasing around the kiddies.
• To everyone back home.  I miss you all and wish you the best.
• To my family.  Thanks for taking care of things while I'm gone, and putting up with me that last week when things got crazy
• To Wayne, Justin, and David: Thanks for 6 awesome years.  Keep it going, and try not to strangle anyone.  It's bad for business.
• To Miss Shirley, in Taylortown.  I haven't forgotten about that postcard.
• To all the guys from the Matisse.  Thanks for all the stories.  May the wind be always at your back and the waves calm.
• To Harvey and Eric, who were my fellow passengers on the Matisse.  Thanks for all the great tips on Australia, and for all your stories as well.  Safe travels.
• And to everyone else.  Thank you and enjoy it!

Pre-trip Reflections

It seems odd for me to write a reflection piece before I leave for The Big To-Do, but sometimes the words just want to come out and there's nothing you can really do but try and direct the stream of consciousness into a coherent flow of words as best you can.

I'm sitting in the basement of a rented house, which serves as my office space when I'm not on the road working at a customer site, listening to an album I just bought, "Brighter than Creation's Dark" by Drive-By Truckers.  It's got a different mood than their other stuff, but seems pretty good for deep personal reflection.

I used to spend a lot of time here, but over the past few months it's been less and less.  I made the joke the other day when I got home that I'd pissed in the same toilet in the same hotel room more times over the last three months than I'd pissed in my own.  It's a stretch of the truth, but not much of one.

I just wrapped up a big project, probably the biggest one I'll have until my sailing.  It feels good to call the work finished, but I'm not particularly satisfied with how this one left off.  Nothing more that I can do from my end, but it's tough to come onto a job to integrate systems with multiple vendors involved, tie all these systems together, and then find out that the whole thing isn't ready for prime time because someone else's stuff isn't working quite right.  I'm not on the receiving end of any blame here, but if it were under my control I could fix it and make it work.  Plus, I put a lot of effort into this over the last few months and I really wanted to see everything flowing seamlessly before I walk away.  Oh, well.  Life goes on.

Until it comes to an end, that is.

I found out last week that my great uncle got sick and is now on his deathbed.  You know, death is a peculiar thing.  People spend their whole lives living in fear of death, and it still catches up with them in the end.  Not my uncle, though.  If ever there was a man who made the most of his life, it was Sam Roberson.  He lived through the Japanese assault on Pearl Harbor.  Later on, he spent some time up in Alaska, grew one hell of a beard, and brought home some sourdough starter he'd gotten from and old prospector, so the story goes.  I reckon the better part of the sourdough in Middle Tennessee could be traced back to his batch.

I told Sam about my trip when I saw him last summer.  We shared a motel room in Cleveland, Tennessee.  The funeral for my Aunt Peggy was June 6.  D-Day anniversary, and I was in a hotel room with a Pearl Harbor survivor.  Sam had recently lost his beloved Annie, and had been hospitalized himself while he was taking care of her.  I asked him what he thought about my traveling as a passenger on a cargo ship to Australia; he joked that it would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than one of those transports he'd been on during the war.

Talking with Sam reaffirmed my decision to go, and helped me realize that I was doing the right thing for myself, even if it meant leaving behind everyone and everything I love, putting off marriage and family, walking away from my dream job, and possibly starting out from scratch when I get back.

It's still almost four months until I leave for Savannah and the wonderful adventure that lies ahead.  Sam's back home, receiving hospice care.  When I got the call last week, I was out of town on business, and when I got back I had a nasty cold; I've been waiting for it to pass before I go to see him.  I've been praying he'll hold out long enough for me to see him, but I don't want him to suffer on my account.

Sam's been writing a weekly column for his local paper for as long as I've been alive, drawing from his past experiences and reflecting on the changing times.  It's had a lot to do with why I started this blog, though I don't plan on updating it as frequently as Sam's newspaper articles.

So, Sam, I hereby dedicate this trip, at least in part, to you.  God bless you, sir.