The Unclad Soul

My Huckleberry Friends I have returned from a trip to the country where I spent glorious days with my son Luke, my daughter-in-law Tawna, my granddaughter T’Lee, and the dogs—Maggie, Trapper, Finder, and Poncho. We fished, we ate, we talked and laughed, we rode around the stunning ranch, we breathed clean fresh air. We even played golf one day at a little 9-hole course down the road. Well, Tawna and I did. Luke managed the snacks and drinks on the golf cart. As I drove out of the ranch to return to Dallas, I passed on the road an Amish couple in a horse drawn buggy. They gave me a friendly wave and I waved back. There is a solid Amish community in the area. They live mostly quiet lives. They follow strict standards of Christian morality and family life. They are a peaceful people. Hard working and immensely gifted craftsman and builders. The women are talented quilt makers and seamstresses as well as devoted mothers. Some have their own businesses. Some are teachers within the Am...

I recently spent a week house sitting  and caring for my son’s dogs while he and his bride were on their honeymoon. They live on a ranch in southeastern Oklahoma. Luke (my son) manages the property there and the livestock. It’s a beautiful, peaceful area surrounded by thick trees and steep hills with a vast set of trails Luke has restored or created inside the brush and timber. There are deer, and turkeys, wild hogs, and fish in several ponds. Tawna (my new daughter-in-law) owns a barbershop a few miles away with customers from all around. Luke and Tawna are amazing. I spent over a week there looking over things, mostly just playing with the dogs and watching the rain. A ranch hand did all the chores that needed doing. I watched the news and a movie or two, read some, did a little writing, ate like a king, and enjoyed the quiet, the fresh air, the sounds of rustling leaves in the breeze, and the soft pelting of rain on the roof. The dogs—Gus, Maggie, and Trapper—were ...

I recently spent the weekend with my son, Luke, in southwest Oklahoma. He manages a large ranch there set in the hills of vast trees and rugged trails. I love going there because, for one thing, I get to spend time with him and his dogs, Maggie and Gus. And for another, I get to get out of the city and enjoy the peace and quiet of the country. The ranch is a majestic spot set on nearly 3,000 acres and Luke has transformed it into a real paradise. The grounds around the ranch house, the barn, the shed, and the corral are immaculate. Big trees stand by the house and shade the nearby fire pit. It’s a perfect spot for morning coffee or friends around a fire at night. There are cattle and horses that Luke tends to and across the rolling hills deer graze and raise their heads to stare if Luke and I pull up in the gator. Then they take off, running elegantly into the woods. There are various tanks on the ranch, both large and small ponds. In the largest one Luke and I have fished...

An animal's eyes have the power to speak a great language. ~ Martin Buber, Theologian/Philosopher In the photo above is Maggie, my son Luke's dog. She had been terribly abused by her original owner when Luke bought her and took her home with him. When I first met her some years ago she lowered her head, growled a little, and ran under Luke's truck. In time, after trying to gently approach her, she came to me. I wanted her   to know I meant her no harm; that I only wanted to love her. Her eyes still show some of her deep hurt and fear. And there is a bit of sadness in her expression. But, through Luke's love and care, she blossomed. She has such a stately presence now. When she's not inside the truck next to Luke, she is running alongside it when he’s going to feed the cattle. She is loyal to him in every way and protective to the end. She goes with him everywhere. She adores Luke. When I'm at the ranch she sits at my feet while I pet and love...

The unhinged politics of the day, the messy presidential campaign, the total ruin of Congress, has created a lot anger, recrimination, insults and division in the country. We see it every day on Facebook and Twitter. The comments to one another have gotten more intense, more contentious. As novelist Michael Cunningham once said, “You get tired, sometimes, of wit and intellect; everybody’s little display of genius.” I’m guilty of that myself. And I don’t like it when I find myself feeling defensive, trying to convince others of viewpoints I hold, or attempting to counter theirs. The political atmosphere in the nation has made us smaller, less. It has reduced us to quarrelsomeness and discord. My friends are courteous in their disagreements with me. And I honestly try to be the same with them. But I do see now and then on other posts some really nasty stuff, horrible ugly comments that are sneering and demeaning. This past Father’s Day weekend was a nice and needed respite from a...

In Kate DiCamillo’s sweet little chapter book, “Because of Winn-Dixie,” ten-year-old Opal takes home a stray dog from her local supermarket and decides to name him after the Winn-Dixie store she found him in. Opal is new in her small town in Florida and is lonely and the ragamuffin dog clearly has been abandoned so the two become a cozy team of shared acceptance, fun and love. Eventually Opal meets the local “witch,” as the neighborhood brats call her.  But Opal, who is not afraid of witches or nearly anything else, delights in Miss Gloria Dump and makes fast friends with her. They are first acquainted when Opal chases Winn-Dixie through the overgrown grass in Miss Dump’s yard.  He had sped away from Opal but she finally finds him in the backyard eating peanut butter out of Gloria Dump’s hand. They greet one another and after sharing a peanut butter sandwich together they sit down to visit.  Miss Dump, who had put in her false teeth so she could eat,...

Dogs really are our best friends. Ingrid has a little Chihuahua named Brownie, because of course, that’s his color. Cutest little thing you ever saw. Every morning when I pick Ingrid up for school Brownie comes running to me. He goes to the sofa where he can barely jump high enough to get on, but he eventually makes it. He waits for our morning routine in which I rub his back and scratch behind his ears and tell him what a good boy he is. I talk to him while Ingrid is getting her backpack ready. He snuggles his little head against my leg and while he wheezes and wiggles I love on him a little bit. One day as I was taking Ingrid into her school she had on her heavy black coat. As I was brushing off some of Brownie’s hairs I said, “Hang on, sweetie; you have Brownie’s hair on you.” She said, “Oh that’s okay, Poppy. I want some of his love on me today.” Of course, why not? Leave those reminders of her little loving companion. Our pets give us so much comfort, don’t the...