Pic a Day - 5/16 to 5/22

Mon. May 16, fraying

Tues. May 17, dappled sky

Wed. May 18, selfie with Peachy the tiny tiny house

Thurs. May 19, the daisy patch

Fri. May 20, Albuquerque Bernie Sanders rally

Sat. May 21, Dad and I visited a "tiny house" for sale in Santa Fe

Sun. May 22, inscriptions

Just Your Average Pet-Adoption Event...

This story has to start a few weeks before the event today. So, for about a month or so, I've been browsing through shows that might be of interest to me on Netflix Instant Watch (as I now have a Windows 8 computer, and therefore a Netflix Instant Watch app). I added a couple of Animal Planet series involving pit bulls to my list, because I had watched a documentary on pit bulls before and wanted to check out what similar things Netflix had to offer.

One of the shows that I added was Pitbulls & Parolees. I was hesitant to start a new show, and I didn't know what to expect. The show very quickly caught my interest, though, and I really enjoyed the ranch happenings plus the rescue missions plus the interpersonal drama. Pitbulls & Parolees follows Tia Torres and her rescue for pit bulls, Villalobos, and also the parolees she hires and reforms, missions to save endangered dogs, and conflicts among employees and her family.

As I was getting ready to go volunteer at the adopt-a-thon's first day today, I let my leash hang around my neck, and joked that I was like Tia Torres, because she is always seen in the show with a pink leash hung around her neck - you know, just in case.

The semi-irony of me saying that was that, when we pulled up a quarter after nine in the morning, I saw somebody that I recognized. Weirdly, it was as if I knew them just from the back. When they turned so I could see them, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Mando from Pitbulls & Parolees, walking around in a "Staff WMR" shirt and helping to set up for the adoption event. Mando - Armando - was the first parolee (or rather, ex-parolee) that was introduced in Season 3 of the show (the only season on Netflix), and one of Tia's closest friends and one of the most featured employees on the show. I kept staring from the car, watching as he went from the big tent to the mobile home to the little tent and back. When I eventually went out to sign in as a volunteer, I was close enough to see his nametag, and my eyes hadn't lied - Armando Galindo, and up close it was undoubtedly the same guy from the show.

I had told my dad that I was going to talk to him, because it's on my bucket list to "meet a famous person." However, it is generally not my strong suit to initiate conversation with people, especially not total strangers, and especially not total strangers who also happen to be on my favorite TV show. Well, just going around walking little dogs, sitting at the main table, and perusing the tent for the big dogs, he would help me get a squirmy hyper dog into their kennel, or tell me how I could help volunteers give water, or smile walking past me. Somehow that felt better and more real than if I had stopped to shake his hand (like one girl did, with her family) and compliment his show, or ask for his autograph, or ask questions about Villalobos and what brought him to New Mexico. (Honestly, though, I was kind of "stalking him" in the main tent to get his autograph. If he's there tomorrow or Sunday, I will work up the courage to ask him. And compliment his show, too. It's my favorite show.)

To John Lennon

You beautiful man. What else can I say? You were positively gorgeous, and that beauty didn't end at your face. As you matured, you learned to give and care, and grew to be irresistible in personality and character. Peace and love became your main goals, and you showed all of us this in your music and later activism.

It's not always easy to understand your motives for things, but the one thing about you that to this moment I continue to find a mystery are your eyes. At this, it's easy to think that maybe I can read your emotions through your eyes, and at times I can. Perhaps you emit a power through them that I can feel if I hold your gaze for long enough, and surely this is also true. But their color. I had always thought brown, but upon close inspection of the cover of a biography, they appeared almost green, and in some pictures they could pass as blue. I like to settle for the idea that they change, like you did, because you did change often as we all need to.

Something I appreciate that not everyone of your fans does or can was your love for Yoko. It sprouted in the most unlikely of ways, and it fought on through all of the tough spots in your relationship. You loved her every moment of every day, and gave her the opportunity to bring her music to our ears in a reasonable way. You fought for her, as any man should when they're lucky enough to have someone as creative and talented as Yoko, and for that I applaud both her and you.

There's something about your music that makes it more than just a melody with guitar chords and a predictable chorus. There's a pain behind it, the pain of experience, of living through the tough years you did, that I appreciate. I appreciate that you could project yourself in this way, and that we could know you on what seemed to be a more personal level.

 

The journey of your life and goal of peace was something that has inspired me since I knew. The tragedy of you being unfairly ripped from this world was something that I mourn even though I couldn't have stopped it. Your message of peace today would perhaps be what the world needed as a whole to get back on track. But your music hasn't disappeared. It hasn't disappeared, it never will, and "Imagine" will still be the anthem for world harmony for as long as music exists.

To George Harrison

My dear, sweet George. Sometimes I wonder about you. How you could have been the person you are: nice to everyone, selfless, giving, kind-hearted. You had the biggest heart of any living mortal, yet you yourself were a kind of god. I don't question this, question who someone is in their heart and soul, and I don't question your being. You were who you were, and I would do nothing to change that.

I love your smile. I try to remember it everyday, and I am unconsciously reminded of it all the time. Many a smile I see bears a striking resemblance to your own luminous, light-hearted grin. I wish I could have seen it for myself, seen it in person.

Concert for Bangladesh - 1971

On seeing you in person, I wonder what it would have been like to see you in concert, or on TV, here, alive. How far away would your music sweep me? How much would my heart race and my face flush even if I only saw you on television? Would I have loved you had our life timelines overlapped more than they had? I often wonder, sometimes knowing how vital the timing was, or else I may not have discovered you, really.

Somewhere in England - back cover

 

There is no way to describe in words the power your music has. I admit I disagree with the message certain songs project, but if I hear a song of yours blast out of the blue, unexpected in the shuffle, I am covered in all-over warmth, from my head to my toes. The big-band sounds in All Things Must Pass are the most striking, I'd say, the ones that captivate you in their seat, shining with a clear majestic glory. George Harrison is cloaked in an intriguing, jungle-y mystery I cannot solve but am all too capable of exploring. Living in the Material World is gentle and spiritual, and Brainwashed is your bittersweet goodbye to us, the one where we feel your departure in each line, even if the song was not your own.

Sharing how I feel about you with a friend is, I guess, one of my first steps in accepting that you are not solely mine, but the whole world's to cherish and treasure. It doesn't hurt to fantasize your smile and voice, though, and think what it would be like to have truly lost you. I haven't lost you though, and for that I thank you, George. Thank you, for letting me see the world.