Catching up a bit...

It's official. I am TERRIFIED of this blog. So I'm sitting there minding my own business, waiting for my sound system to be set up at Long Beach Veteran's Memorial Stadium, enjoying the warm afternoon sun, the nice breeze, and the sounds of The Academy Drum and Bugle Corps ripping my face off. And up comes Jeff McGinnis, current contra--oh sorry...TUBA coach for Impulse, a volunteer coaching position he's had since the corps was started I believe (THAT is actually AWESOME dedication!!), former director of Brea-Olinda HS (just down the road from my palatial estate in the hills of the Canyon of Carbon), and just all around nice guy. Comes up, shake hands, the old "how ya doin's...boy isn't Academy kicking ass...what's new" back and forth...and then...he drops a bomb.

I REALLY LIKE YOUR BLOG.

DAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMIT.

Someone else found me!!! I don't want people reading this swill! WHAT THE?? But in all seriousness, he paid me some nice compliments and I humbly bow to you and your tuba/contra greatness and say "GET OUTTA HERE...but thanks for reading." Heh!! To think. Someone ENJOYS what I have to say!

Speaking of which, apparently I had a LOT to say. I wrote a review off the top of my head, complete with some rather ridiculous grammatical "creative license" (to say the least) up on Drum Corps Planet. Now, if you're one of my readers that for some reason has no clue what drum corps is, which is fine in and of itself, could you do me a favor and get to know it. Because in about 3 weeks Pasadena is going to be rocked by some of the best drum and bugle corps in the world as they descend upon the Rose Bowl. Anyway--if you'd like to see where I was on Saturday night--go to http://www.drumcorpsplanet.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=100870 and read what I had to say. 'Tis better than wasting a perfectly good and obviously WIDELY read blog on my drum corps blatherings.

Outside of the fact that there has been this consistent "behind the scenes" hole in my heart because of the loss of Dixie, I have been rather busy. Getting set up for 7 schools to write for, a possible 8th coming on line soon, in the middle of correcting one drill I already wrote, writing an opener for someone else, and having a great time!!! NO REALLY. I am. My computer program called Pyware is just amazing. Allows me to think differently about drill design. Maybe that means I'll actually get GOOD at it. Doubtful. But I'll try by George...

But yes, the hole in my heart has been there. LURKING in the back of mind. I really do appreciate the fact that people--like my dad for instance--don't give a crap about dogs. If they die, move on. Buy another one. But dog's have feelings and personalities and quirks and what not, and I don't know. I don't want to HUMANIZE so much a dog to the point of being stupid about it, but on the other hand, you look at the picture I posted of that big ass lug of a dog on my lap...and it's CLEAR she's a happy camper. She had a ton of other special "things" about her--like her penchant for turning into the dog you all hear about on the news, but only when in my passenger seat driving on the freeway past an 18 wheeler. Apparently she must have been a small car in a previous life because she would SERIOUSLY freak out at 18 wheelers. Not bobcat trucks. Not pickups. Not even those little reefer half truck dealy bobs. No....18 wheelers. FREAK dog. Her hair would stand up, she'd snarl and spit and growl and stamp her feet and bark...then I'd use my "outdoor voice" (cough cough) and tell her to KNOCK IT OFFFFFFFFF YA FREAK!!!!" And she'd stop and look over her shoulder at me as if to say, "But dude, I just protected you from the large mass of rubber and metal hurtling itself down this road!! KMA!!!" Hahahaha...ahhhhhhhhhhhhh...that dog. She killed me sometimes. And BOY could she rough house. We'd have wrestling matches and she was NOT shy and letting me know where the teeth in the family were, so to speak. And she LOVED grabbing a towel and trying to pull it from me, and then I'd let her "win" and she shake the ever-loving CRAP out of the towel...and then I'd try to grab it back and she'd try to scare me off by doing the low "grrrrrrrrrrrrrr" that rumbled more than anything. Ahhhh those were the times. Or the time I'm trying to announce a Winter Guard International "Friendship Cup" marching band show at RCC several years ago, only to get a call from The Warden saying that Dixie had just eaten an ENTIRE bowl of Hershey Kisses...complete with FOIL!!! Knowing chocolate is poison to dogs, I told Nyleen to get her to the hospital. Well the fat bitch...sorry...I mean my dog was so overweight that the doctor said, "Well, the chocolate won't hurt her, but be ready to pull foil out of her ass!"

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you did NOT just say "Pull foil out of her ass did you?" The Warden was none-too-pleased to be a dog owner.

And yeah.

We pulled foil out of her ass for a week after that incident. Idiot dog.

What else to report on!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH yes. Before ALL of this went down, I got a phone call from ANOTHER voice from my past. Ended up talking to him for about an hour. And it was really great to hear from him--another reader of this blog--HOW I know not--but he found it. Anyway, Eric Dirksen, who may have been responsible more than anyone else in my life besides John Formia to get me interested in public safety as a career versus what I thought God had put me on this earth for and that was band directing. Eric went to PHS but was a year ahead of me. He went on to PCC, and was part of their Cadet Program for the Police Department. He kept encouraging me to apply as a cadet which I finally did in February of 1985 and got picked up. Worked there for the next two years, and eventually was promoted up a couple of levels and ended up being the Cadet Program Coordinator. I was pretty proud of myself for that accomplishment. Then I left on my final tour with VK and I never returned, opting instead to head off to Cal State Long Beach and get my damn teaching credential. Things in life have a way of happening in such a way that make no sense sometimes WHEN they happen, but in retrospect, you're happy that it did.

Someday I'll share with you the serendipity of how I got picked up by Orange County Fire Authority, and how that all played out. VERY interesting--because there's like simultaneous OTHER stories that go right along with it. Later though.

I need to get out of here, which I now will encourage YOU to do. But first--here's a pic of Saturday night. And that would be me on the track at the 5o yd line--and you're looking at the Kingsmen Alumni Corps which ABSOLUTELY set Veteran's Stadium ON FREAKIN' FIRE Saturday night. Enjoy...and then...GET OUTTA HERE!!!!!

That would be me, the red and tan speck, holding the paper--that was my script. Cool?

Good. Once again...GET OUTTA HERE.

Hope you like the new look!

Didn't realize Blogspot had made their templates a tad more user-friendly. So I thought I'd update the look and throw in a few pictures. You need to scroll down to the very bottom and you'll see a few. Ya know--I appreciate those of you who may read this on a regular-semi-regular basis. Thanks for checking. Sorry to be a bummer in my last posting. It's later in the day and I'm doing better with everything.

See ya...

Tribute to an old friend...

Haven't posted much up here for a bit, but that's not for a lack of anything happening in my life. Quite the contrary. As any "Type A" personality person can relate to, it's just been one long stream of "things to do". The other day I actually tried to imagine what it would be like to not have something to do, and to just sit, and watch TV or sit on the porch and read a book. After about 30 seconds of that, I started to feel guilty that I was actually taking time to think about this stuff and what I could have done with those 30 seconds I just wasted!!!! LOL!!! Actually, I'm not THAT bad. But...close.

Well--hate to start this blog entry on a downer but I have to tell a little story. Back in 1997, I being married for only 2 years, living in a condo in Placentia, began to worry a little about my wife. She came from a very large family (9 bros and sis's), so needless to say, it was a noisy household. To get married and move away from that was a big change. But on TOP of that was the fact that I worked 24 hr shifts 10 days a month, usually more because of overtime, and I was not sleeping at home during those shifts. Worse would be if I got a 48 or 72 or even a 96 hour stretch. It was a little hard. On top of that, The Warden's whole family moved to Gig Harbor, Washington with the exception of one brother who stayed back.

Trying to think proactively about this situation, and having grown up with dogs my entire life, I went to the Orange County Animal Shelter and started looking around at dogs. They have their shelter pretty organized--the big dogs in one section, the small ankle biters in another, the vicious and mean quarantine area in another. Pretty cool. I especially liked the quarantine area because you could actually look face to face with some truly terrifying dogs. Well, this day I went down to nose around I wasn't seeing anything note-worthy. I decided to go to the quarantine section, and nothing was there to entertain me (like the one time the pit bull that saw me had a freaking fit and almost chewed his way out of the cage--or so it seemed--what a whack!). As I was about to leave, I checked one more area that is "off the beaten path" so to speak. Saw a goat, a rooster, a HUGE tortoise (no lie), and then...a Rottweiler. Just hanging out in her cage. She was laying in the back area. I walked up to the cage (I remember this like yesterday), and kneeled down. She didn't move but her head was up and her ears were "up" (as much as Rottie can do that). And I smiled and said, "Hey there...". She lumbered up, and immediately I noticed two things. One--she obviously had had a litter of puppies within the past 6 months or so, and two, she was pretty dang skinny.

She slowly walked up to the door, and in my customary way, offered the back of my hand. Felt that cold nose through the bars take a sample of my knuckles, and then....she sat down and leaned up against the bars of the door to her cage and looked up at me with THE SINGLE most pitiful but strangely BEAUTIFUL brown eyes (with EYE BROWS!!!!) that I had ever seen. If dogs could talk, she was saying, "Please...just be nice to me." I read her tag...her name was Dixie...age approximately 1 year, maybe 2. Brought in by family and reason for leaving the dog at the pound--"Unable to continue care for dog". WTF DID THAT MEAN?!?!? So after I had a long talk with Dixie and made sure I scratched her ears ("Both sides please, Ryan") and scratched her chest ("Ryan, I believe you are going to be owner someday if you keep THAT up!"), I got a worker and asked about the non-reason given for leaving Dixie at the pound. She said that typically when a reason is given like that it means that the people are either moving and can't take the dog, or they are having money problems and can't afford it. So I made sure it didn't mean "Has killed small babies and will rip your throat out if given half a chance". She laughed and said, "No no no...if that was the case, we'd have her in that special section over there", pointing at the ever-entertaining quarantine area. AHHHHHHHHH...so she's ok then. "Well...you risk anytime you want a dog that you're getting someone else's dog, so you don't know what you're getting personality wise." And with that, broom in hand to go do her crap-cleanup-detail, she left. I went back to the cage, and there was Dixie, still sitting at the door, looking at me. Big. Brown. Eyes. Must not look. MUST NOT LOOK. Big. Brown. Eyes. DAMN. So, defying any semblance of normality, I actually leaned down and looked right at her, and I said, "Look, I'm going to go home, but I'll be back tomorrow to come say hi again. OK?" And I left.

And then I came back the next day.

And then the next day after that.

The fourth day, I broke the news to The Warden. "Honey, get your shoes on--no need walking around pregnant and barefoot making my dinner--let's go out." OUT??? WOW!!! The Warden got all excited. WE'RE GOING OUT. "Where we goin' baby?!?!?" A surprise...

...which really didn't go over too well when I pulled into the Orange County Animal Control parking lot. "They have a restaurant here?" Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeah...so I had to explain my surprise. I got the patented Warden response--13 years of this--there's an art to it...but her response...

"Turner...what did you do???" How many times have I heard THAT?!?!?

So I take her to the cage where Dixie lived. She perked RIGHT up. VERY happy to see me, but not like hyper-hump your leg-slobber happy. Her personality was very clear to me. She WAS happy...but reserved if you will. Definitely happier than when I first saw her 4 days ago. And she knew me for sure. She demanded I give her a nice chest scratch. I complied. She's a Rottie. What do you want??? The Warden will never admit this, but there was an immediate affection present between these two "ladies". And then...the impossible happened...she actually said, "Well...you want to get her?"

And the rest as they say...is history. We brought her home to our quaint little condo, which was right across the street from the massive Tri-City Park. Let her smell around, get used to everything. And then...after sufficient sniffing, I believe The Warden and I received what can only be called a "Sign of Approval". Dixie lauched herself into the air, did a half twist, landed on her back, and started doing the "Dixie Dance" as we later coined it. She was rubbing back and forth on her back and making that little "ruhhhhhhhhrrrr" sound. And I swear...call me nuts...but she was SMILING. We were off to a great start.

What followed was two moves, and our first baby, Sarah. Dixie was with us the entire time. She would have been in the dang delivery room had she had her way. Dixie and Nyleen established a really solid relationship because I believe that Dixie knew, or figured it out, that when I was away at the Fire Department, she was The Protector. And Nyleen would tell me stories about how she was literally protected by this moose of a dog. And boy did Dixie love Sarah. I have a video of her hanging out with Sarah in our garage of a house we had in Placentia. Sarah was in a bouncy seat deal, just banging away, making all kinds of noise (she's a Turner--rock on sister!!). Dixie was either laying right next to the bouncy seat completely oblivious to the racket, or she'd stand up and walk around and sometimes stick her nose right in front of Sarah's face and out would come the tongue....SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLURP!!! We didn't actually like that but Dixie had to sneak a few in. Of course, Nyleen would run off to get disinfectant and bleach and surgical gowns thinking that Sarah was going to surely contract some "Rottweiler disease". LOL!!!

Women.

Well...I guess I have to get to the point of this tribute.

We had our second kid, Michael Ryan, and our small house (another one--we had downsized from 2400 sq ft and a backyard to 1300 sq ft and NO YARD). The Warden now was overwhelmed with kids and dog. There was only one thing to do. And off Dixie went to go live with my brother and my dad up in Pasadena at the family estate (LOL!). There she'd have a backyard, two guys that would love her to death, and a safe house. I wasn't happy, but I had vistitation rights...hahahaha...so, it was the smartest thing. I'm grateful my dad and brother stepped up to help out. Very cool.

Yesterday, I was swimming in the pool in our complex with my daughter. My wife and boy were at home. My cell phone started to ring, but I missed the call by the time I had swam over to get the phone. Something about making sure I was keeping an eye on my 6 year old sort of slowed me down. About 2 minutes later, my phone rang again. It was a fellow supervisor from work. I picked up--it was my buddy Chris Funk. "Hey dude, you need to call your brother asap." Thinking the worst of course, I just blurted out, "Oh crap--what's wrong?" And Chris didn't soften the blow any, and he didn't have to. I don't think Chris knew about the set up I had with my brother and Dixie. "He said he had to put his dog to sleep." My stomach sank. I said thanks and called my bro. And the story came out...

Apparently a few days ago, Dixie started really limping badly, favoring her rear left leg. We knew she had some hip dysplasia issues...but this was different. Yesterday, he said she was crying and not putting ANY weight on the leg. He rushed her to the Animal Hospital. Tests, xrays, exam...diagnosis was bad. Big tumor on the leg--bone cancer. Adding everything up--age of the dog, she was miserable, etc--it was time to say goodbye and put her down. I asked my brother if he was with her and petted her and was by her. And he said he was. So that was comforting. I guess the process of putting a dog to sleep is relatively "easy", and Rob described to me that she just laid her head down and closed her eyes. And then that was it.

Not to sound bitter but I wish I could have come up. Dixie really like McDonald's french fries. Maybe she would have liked to have a last little bite. And I could have looked into those big brown beautiful eyes (WITH EYE BROWS!!) and told her how much fun I had with her, and how much she meant to me. Like I said earlier, I've had dogs all my life, but Dixie was really pretty dang special. Probably because she was truly MINE--and not something my parents got.

Thought I'd post a pic from a few years back that probably best shows what a happy dog looks like. I know some people can't relate to it--and that's fine. Dogs are just animals. I get it. But if you're one of those that think that dogs maybe are a step higher than "just animals", take a look at this pic, and tell me what you see. I know what I see. I see a goofball dog, and I see a smile on her face...and I see those eye brows...and those big brown beautiful eyes that were once really sad...but look incredibly happy as she pretended that really, it WAS OK to be 100 pounds AND a lap dog.

I'll miss you Dixie. A whole bunch. Stupid dogs...they're not supposed to make grown men's eyes leak.

Dixie Turner

1997-2007