Cosmic Birthing: in the beginning

Aesop: diagnosis, lymphoma

Aesop. Aesop and Emma. The disease.

Remembering Kate on the anniversary of her death

Kate was a great ball player, who could catch a tennis ball or a handball in her mouth and actually throw it back to you. Her sporting skill also included "handball." We would throw the ball against the wall of Tenafly High School and she would catch it in her mouth and then pitch it back to the wall. Amazing. Her keen sense of smell made her a crackerjack tennis ball collector. Tenafly Commons has several tennis courts; invariably Kate was albe to locate a tennis ball that had gone out of court and fell into bushes. Left behind by the players, Kate would discover the ball and proudly carry it out from the brush in her mouth. A skill of another kind was her ability to find cicadas, which carried carried her mouth if it was alive. At first we were disconcerted by her behavior, but learned to accept it, realizing that it was her nature to do this. A hunter at heart, cicacadas were a treat and a source of protein.

Kate: Rembering our incomparable scottish terrier, March 4, 1986--February 8, 1999

Kate and Harold at Tallman State Park. Kate with a Wild Thing, one of the toys she nurtured, grooming at and taking it outside into the yard for "air." Kate at home shortly after she arrived. Profile of Kate

In earlier blogs I wrote at length about Kate or Katie our first scottie, who serendipitously became a member of our family. To save her from a mall pet shop, we purchased the funny lttle dog who won my heart the instant she was removed from her cage: she placed her head on my shoulder nestled on it, contently and quietly. A few months old--4 we believe-- but one who had lived through so much trouble already--her origins were in a puppy mill in the far west, then transported to Middle America and finally deposited in a pet shop in th Bergen Mall, she lived together with a dachshund as a companion and then was on her own. Chance brought us together. Kate was a curious thoughtful companion who looked at the world inquisitively. She would study a plane, blimp, or helicopeter flying overhead, following its trajectory as it crossed the sky. She was obviously trying to make sense of what was not an everyday occurrence. We remember her today and her all too short life with us, though in dog years she lived a respectable number. What a wonder she was and how fortunate we found each other.

A Scar from the Past Exposed: the wounded body heals, almost

The Final Voyage Begins

Jack Rosen, my uncle: in memoriam, 1913--1952

Morris Rosen with his sons Jack on the right and George on the left

Uncle Jack died on January 20, 1952, struck down by a massive heart attack at the very early age of 39, leaving behind a wife Thelma, and two children Frank and Barbara. Jack practiced law in New York City, primarily in borough of The Bronx, where he resided. His loss was deeply felt by his parents and his brother George and his numerous cousins. I was eleven years old then and I vividly recall my father giving us the terrible news. This was the first time that I encountered death; it was shocking. Jack was a very vivacious man who dominated by his physical presence and his outgoing character. If only a picture could speak.