Doug Van Pelt

Dogs Are Great

Biscuit has a great time here at the office. I bring him here two days a week. Today on the way in I noticed a calf up ahead that was grazing outside the fence, so I slowed down and stopped. I let Biscuit get out and fulfill his destiny as a Shetland Sheepdog. He chased that frightened calf right back into his pen. When we arrive at the ranch sometimes I'll throw a tennis ball for him to fetch. We both love that.

I've been enjoying Through Painted Deserts by Don Miller. So far it's not nearly as good as Blue Like Jazz or Searching For God Knows What, but who knows what may lie ahead?

In this chapter ("Reward") Don and Paul are hiking the last bit (six hours) out of the canyon. Don feigns a desire to write in his journal and encourages Paul to hike on ahead of him. The real reason is so he won't slow Paul down and have Paul looking back at him as he struggles up the hill, as he figures he'll be a pathetic sight or something.

Don does start to journal, though, writing down some thoughts that are small details of the trip, things that went into this book. And then he writes a few paragraphs to himself, for himself to read twenty years later. It's an interesting thought, how he encourages his future self not to fret about materialism or whether or not he can buy his family a nice car. He tells himself to just go in and kiss his kids on the forehead. That's beautiful.

Having seen pictures of Don and reading his description of his struggles with this hike, describing himself as out of shape, one begins to feel sorry for him a little bit and a little bit of anger and shame at the people who ignore him, pity him, or treat him like a non-beautiful person. That's a drag. One of the things Paul and Don talk about on the morning of their last day in the canyon is how much they want a bowl of cereal. Paul tries to wax philosophical and states that most men want houses and money and this and that, but they would kill for just a bowl of cereal. Their perspective has changed, he says. Don retorts with: "And a boat. I want to eat my cereal on a boat." It's a funny barb thrown in.

When Don finally makes it to the top, Paul is waiting there with a smile on his face. Then he offers him something he picked up at the store. It's a tin cup of cereal. Don writes of his reaction:

"My smile is so big that tourists notice. I think there may even be a little moisture in my eyes. I don't know if I have felt this much joy in ten years."

I love that. To me, that is loving extravagantly -- finding something meaningful to someone and giving them that. Those are moments I cherish. That's why some of these shows -- where they buy an old school teacher a house she's never been able to afford or some such dream fulfillment kind of thing -- are popular. They give us a glimpse of someone making someone else's dream come true. That's rich.

Posted by Doug Van Pelt at November 22, 2006 12:01 PM