it's not that i'm picky or anything

I've gotta say, while I'm not a huge Ohio State fan at all, I'm kinda looking forward to this Saturday's game when they take on arch rival Michigan. It's not because I hate Michigan, no... I have a special kinship with the state as much as I do Ohio, it's that "Hey, look at us. We're stuck in the midwest" kind of kinship that neighboring Midwestern states share. No, I'm looking forward to the game because Ohio State is going to unleash a throwback jersey that Nike designed to commemorate the 1954 National Champion Buckeyes.

While I do I love a good uniform redesign (University of Oregon - who had 384 uniform combinations two years ago - withstanding), I love the unchanged classiness that some college teams sport. Some people would say that the classic Penn State navy and white just shows the lack of creativity but to you I show you the classic navy and white pinstripes of the New York Yankees. If you're good, you're good and you don't need gimmicky uniforms to bring people in and sell merch. This classic-ness applies to other college football strongholds such as, Ohio State, yes... Michigan, and the other midwestern powerhouse called Notre Dame.

It's kinda interesting to see how a company like Nike goes in and approaches schools based upon their uniforms, history, and willingness to change looks, styles or fabrics and what that means to recruiting and alumni and money coming in and out of the university. It really is quite a science. Actually, the internet is filled with different blogs and magazine's all sporting their own opinions on what schools have made the best and worst dressed list (Oregon is always on the top of the worst list). This year in fact, several teams have gone in and tweaked some uniform items that didn't really need tweaking. Take for example:

The University of North Carolina went for an all-blueberry look

Tennessee added a black jersey

University of Georgia unleashed some black pants and helmets which didn't help them against the Gators.

And well, it seems as if Oregon has a different kit each week.

I think it's interesting how any school.... regardless of their initial athletic color combo will willy nilly seemingly add black to their uniforms. Maybe it's cause black is always the new black and petty much will go with anything, but sometimes it kinda pisses me off. No other color, well... aside from white, gets as much field time. I remember back in high school when I first noticed this trend (think those old school all black Starter jackets with the team logo stitched in the back), every major team had a coat... regardless of their teams colors, the coat was black. Think the Chicago Bears. Nowhere is black in their color scheme, but... they had a black Starter jacket. Anyways, noticing this, I tried to introduce black as an accent color to my Hillsboro High School soccer jerseys (my mom was a coach and pretty much all years aside from my senior year, I picked the uniforms and their design and we looked goooood. In 1997 we got a new head coach and he figured his fashion skills were better than mine. As a result, we ended up wearing what appeared to be trash bag sized uniforms with sleeves down to our forearm. I hated it.) Anyways, I tried to introduce black but it was met with fierce resistance from the Athletic Director and I was vetoed. However, some years later when I was back at HHS coaching softball, I noticed that all of our men's baseball teams are using black as an accent -very similar to the nearby Cincinnati Reds, another formerly all red and white team that randomly added black. (I know for a while during the Cold War they added in navy blue and black as an accent, but... lets just move on from that moment.) In protest, I have vowed to not buy any Reds gear till they go back to all red and white and it's not a throwback day. Classic, timeless.

Our kits my freshman year of high school, they were a year or two old at this point and I had picked them out for the team as a sixth grader - shhhhhh! I wasn't a huge fan of the massive full front imprint, but hey... I was only a 6th grader.

We wore these my sophomore through junior years. These were my favorite. Some people were not fans of the fleecy lining the uniforms had as they got pretty sweaty (I think these were designed for usage in the PNW)... but I loved the over all classic look and feel. Plus, we had moved from umbro to adidas which I thought was a step in the right direction. I also designed the game day black shirts. I didn't include a photo of the kits my senior year because as I said... they were pretty much the ugliest things ever and I erased them from all photographic history of me. They are pretty much on the same wavelength as these awful uniforms from the Reds.

Please, lets go back to when the Reds did things right. Can we?

I love people making fun of Portland

If there is one thing I love, it's Portland. If there's another thing I love... it's people making fun of Portland.

I say this because in order to make fun of something well, most of the time you have to love it enough to understand how you can make fun of it. And, most of the time the joking is true, based on fact, and well deserved.

New York City, the center of the world

I find that New Yorkers especially, have a love hate relationship with Portland. Take for example, on any given day you can find an article on Portland in the NY Times. My brother, who lives in Manhattan is frustrated by this "Portlandness" and how all anyone ever seems to be talking about is Portland. I rack his frustration up to all his life, he only wanted to live in New York. And, he shared this dream with many people.... it was THE DREAM. To move from small town USA and go to the Big City, the Big Apple, the Center of the Universe and make it work. So many people have shared that dream, so many people have lived that dream, so many people have been disappointed by that dream. But, New Yorkers ... love New York City; even if they hate it, they love to hate it. They have such pride in their city. Everyone in the world wants to come to New York. New York is the shit. So, to seemingly wake up one day and have everyone in New York talking about this tiny little city on the outskirts of the country is laughable. "Where are their tall buildings?" New Yorkers ask. "Where is the culture, the diversity, the subway, the commerce, the industry, the Yankees? It is no where to be found in Portland. Pfft!" So, they brush it off. But still, the talk continues and next thing they know their friends are talking about Portland. Oh, how much everyone loves Portland and wants to visit or even worse.... move there. And, this confuses and frustrates the New Yorker. Suddenly, it seems as if their has been a cultural shift and the world is changing? Since when did people pick tiny rainy Portland over New York? Everyone wants to come to New York? Right guys? I'm right with this? Aren't I?

The thing about Portland is that we have pride in our city in the same way that New Yorkers have pride in their city. However, unlike most of America, we don't want the "bigness of it all" and we don't really want to be in NYC. New Yorkers have a hard time understanding why anyone living in a metropolitan area would not strive to want to be like New York. New Yorkers do not understand where this love comes from. So, they visit. And then - they see. They may not fully understand since we don't have a huge baseball team like the Yankees or buildings over 33 floors high, but...they see we have our own culture and out own things we get excited about in that same fashion. And - then they get jealous and then, they make fun (cause that's what New Yorkers do). And, that's okay with me.

Portland, not the center of the world but that's okay with us.

Take for example Portland and our love for all things bike related. A lot of people love to make fun of this obsession, and one of those people is the guy who runs the infamous blog, Bike Snob NYC. The Bike Snob, who's true identity is unknown, writes an almost daily review of personal rants of the cycling world. Most of these jabs attack hipsters, Portland, wanna be hipsters, celebrities, naive commuters, Portland, Lance Armstrong, fixed gear riders (see hipsters), and Portlanders. Some folks get their panties in a wad and wonder where his hate comes from or what short fixie handlebar is shoved up his ass.... but mostly I just laugh. For the most part, he's right about a lot of things when it comes to Portlanders and our bikes.

Take for example, he made fun of us this summer when the Flaming Lips came to town to shoot a video featuring naked cyclists (watch that video here) which was also about the same time that Michael Jackson died, the Bike Snob said that only in Portland: "people sit poised and ready to mobilize the second anybody needs anything ridiculous and cycling-related to be done. As I understand it, it works like this: Let's say, for example, an aging rock band needs to draw attention to itself inexpensively due to both the moribund state of the record industry and its own increasing hoariness. Well, this is easy to do if the band knows four things: 1) Hipsters pay attention to anything having to do with bikes; 2) Nudity always gets attention; 3) People in Portland love to ride bikes; 4) People everywhere will do anything to get attention. So what the rock band then does is notify the cycling authorities in Portland, who in turn sound a giant air raid siren that can be heard for miles on both sides of the Willamette River. Then, everyone reports to a designated area with their bicycles for debriefing. Orders can range from "Ride your bikes around dressed as Michael Jackson," to "Let's help someone move to a new apartment," to "Let's get naked to help The Flaming Lips sell music." (In this case, they were quite literally "de-briefed.") Whatever the cause, these ever-agreeable Portlanders are happy to oblige." Which, is actually very close to the truth as to what goes on here.

Also very close to the truth for Portland as well... is how he so vividly explains our love (as we are mostly hipsters and cyclocross racers here) for beer. "Like any moody and insecure person, I enjoy consuming alcoholic beverages to assuage my angst, facilitate my social interaction, and enter into a pleasant state of intoxication. Even so, I'm not sure why cyclists--in particular "hipsters" and cyclocross racers--get so wildly excited about beer. "Team Beer;" beer hand-ups; beer hand-downs; PBR; references to PBR; waxing poetic about "craft ales;" incessant Belgian beer references; and so on. The way people act you'd think beer was something that was around only a few days a year, like cherry blossoms, as opposed to something you can buy and consume whenever you feel like it. (Sure, I suppose some fixed-gear riders are underage, but most of the people getting carried away about beer are like 35.) Again, I like beer, but I like toilet paper too--in fact, you often buy it in the same place you buy beer, and like beer you feel good after you use it--but you don't see people whooping about it and handing rolls of Marcal (the PBR of toilet paper) to people on run-ups."

It doesn't take someone more than to go to one cross race here to see that this is indeed the truth, we do love beer and we like making things that make beer easier to consume. But Bike Snob.... you are not the only one with a shared love and affection for toilet paper, I too share that view which is why most of my family are getting the Charmin Double Ply Biggie Roll 12-Pack this holiday season. I mean, it's the gift that really does keep giving.

And, cross. My goodness, we Portlanders seem to be obsessed as much with our cross races as we are with our beer - true true true. Why, if halloween dress up cross crusades weren't enough, if single speed cyclocross world championships and the thunderdome weren't enough.... this week you can even enter the dog cycle cross races. See, that's another thing we're obsessed about, our dogs. True story, before the upcoming cross races out at Kruger's Farm this Sunday will feature a race prior to the other races where owners will race with their dogs on the course. There is even a special category for "carry-on and lap dogs as well as clydesdale".

And, not surprising, Bike Snob had this to say:

"Proving once again that they are far more advanced than the rest of the country when it comes to anything involving cycling, they are now augmenting their cyclocross with actual dog racing. This is great news for Portlanders and their dirty, hairy, smelly sidekicks (as well as for their dogs), though it's awful news for the rest of us. Portland cyclocross racers are already smug enough about how much muddier their races are than everyone else's; now on top of that they're going to start feeling superior to people who aren't forced to race through post-dog race waste. Soon struggling though knee-deep mud won't be enough to qualify a 'cross race as "epic;" you'll also need to face-plant into the feces of a Great Dane... This should mean every cyclocross-related forum on the Internet is going to be hijacked by "epic" threads about the proper technique for "portaging" a Yorkie.The only real winner here is the pet industry, since dog ownership in Portland will surely double when everyone rushes to acquire a spare "pit dog." (Pit bulls, incidentally, make excellent pit dogs.)"

Nothing says cross better than boots, beer, and dogs. This is an ironclad pup.

True, true.... all true. We are smug about most of these things and I think that as long as we stay on our bikes and help push that forward thinking momentum to create, innovate, and envoke change... that we can still stay on top of our game. I mean... look at this breakdown on urban cycling from GOOD Magazine:

And, not to make this post go on longer than it has already.... but, while we're on the much beloved subject of "hipsters", I love the Bike Snob's description of them: "the essence of the "hipster" lifestyle is doing everything that real rock stars do except for actually being creative and having talent. Sleeping in, dressing up, getting sleeve tattoos, drinking heavily, doing drugs, making videos, and keeping your followers abreast of the minutiae of your day are all a lot easier when you don't actually have to produce anything. This is not to say it's completely effortless, though. Maintaining your image can be a full-time job, as can staying abreast of the trends".

Which brings about this video which has been making the rounds on the internets this week:

Anyways world... when it comes to making fun of Portland... bring it on.

shameless plug

VOTE FOR ME!!!!

Hey ya'll... so I've been sick recently and I decided to put my "stuck at home with the mcnasties" to good use by waterproofing all my outdoor gear, reading magazines I haven't touched since they crossed my threshold in January of 09 (some don't even exists anymore: RIP Domino), removing a cyst from my head*, scanning old photos and doing some snowboard designs for a contest. So, I'm asking you... the kind readers here, to please take a moment out of your busy day and vote for one of my snowboard designs. (cough cough) Please, help a starving and sick artist out.

You can vote for this one here.

And this one here.

And sadly, like anything on the internet you have to register first, but REI and Arbor are both decent eco friendly companies and it's worth giving them your email, even though you don't have to sign up for any email updates.

Also, if it makes you feel better, did you know that REI locations are giving away gift bags filled with $5-$100 worth of gift cards to the first 20 people through the door on the day after Thanksgiving? True story. Personally, I always try to use the day after turkey as a day to go outside and work off some off the mashed potatoes and green bean casserole with fried onion toppings I just noshed down, but if you're of the shopping variety and you like/need outdoor gear... it's a pretty good opportunity.

don't think I haven't noticed....

Recently, I've come across some recent design trends that are too similar to not notice.

I don't know what it is, but people are loving simple one color animal figure designs. I mean, personally I'm one of them too - in fact, I personally draw them and use them in my own illustration, but don't think I haven't picked up on other people being fans too.

For example:

(I'll give bonus points for anyone who can name one of these designers, trick question.)

Has any one else noticed that The Gap, when advertising their latest campaign for "America's Best Fitting Jeans" happened to use helvetica set against white. Just like another company that is famous for black helvetica text on white. And, seeing how both texts start with a capital "A" - don't think that they didn't think about that too. I guess they're slugging it out for who can be more classically American when it comes to fashion.

Gap ad:

American Apparel ad:

Lastly, speaking of the Gap, it's official, plaid is back. Not that I haven't said it before, but basically if The Gap is claiming it in their holiday ads, you know you're gonna see it peppered through out your winter season for the next year or so. That's just how these things work. So, while your inner lumberjack is rejoicing this season, tell your inner sailor to get ready for the summer as I'm predicting horizontal stripes as the next distinguishable fashion trend which never really goes away, it just kinda morphs from one thing into the next. Thereby, ships ahoy...scan your closets and get ready to wear stripes to the beach next summer.

gleeful anticipation.

It is with eager anticipation that I await my first snowboarding trip of the season this upcoming weekend (this past week saw the first substantial dumping of snow in the Cascades). Normally, the resorts on Mt. Hood don't have enough snow or chilly weather to open till after Thanksgiving, but not this year my friends. Thank you mother nature! This year, I went in with some friends and purchased a Mt. Hood Meadows Season pass which I am greatly looking forward to using. Last year, I had purchased a Timberline/Ski Bowl Fusion pass.... but I think this year my skills have progressed enough that I'm fully ready to put myself to the test on Meadows more challenging and diverse terrain.

I remember my first visit to Meadows, it was last year and my friend Julie was treating me to a late birthday gift of a day on the mountain. The night prior was my friend Heather's birthday and I probably celebrated a bit too much during beer pong (but I was crowned beer pong Champion) and dancing. Anyways, needless to say I overslept and what resulted was a very awkward and amusing awakening for everyone involved ;). Also, some other friends -new friends- were making their way to Meadows that day too and once again... it was just awkward all around. Well, the conditions that day were crap... crap crap crap. Sleeting, horizontal snow that stung your face in the 30mph winds. In fact, the weather was so bad 2/3 of the people on the mountain left after lunch time. Julie and I decided to stay and boy were we in for a treat. After lunch, the winds died down and we got dumped on... we're talking a feet or so of fresh powder in about an hour.

Anyways, to celebrate the powder, Julie and I ventured onto the black diamonds. What had prior been icy steep slopes were covered in sweet, sweet, white powder goodness. I don't think I've ever been so happy, I laid down some of the prettiest turns I've ever laid down, spraying fresh powder with every turn. Ah, it was so, so, so amazing. And, what made it even better is that while going down one of the runs, folks from the chairlift over head yelled "YEEEAH!" for us as we passed beneath. Their gleeful cheers sang my soul out loud.

It was on that day that I was convinced that there was a God, and.... I walk with him, and I talk with him, and we go snowboarding together in his creations. it's kinda fun.

my school, my town, my home

It is with great sadness that I mark the passing of my old High School and former haunting grounds back home in Ohio. The 2009 school year was the last graduating class to to roll through those doors and roam those halls and now the school is being demolished... bit by bit and piece by piece. The new high school lies on the outskirts of town... away from the heart and soul of the town I once knew.

My mom taught Home Ec at Hillsboro High School for 34 years, in the same room located at the back at the end of the main hallway of the new building. To get there, you'd walk past the office, past the teachers lounge, past rooms filled for the knowledge of English, Spanish, and Social Studies and past the art room. Just past her room was the tunnel that led to the old building, the cafeteria, the gym, the locker rooms, the old shop class, and the Jr. High.

Throughout my youth, my mother would often bring my brother and I to the school after hours or during the summer when she had work to do or home ec. groceries to drop off. I remember those times when the hallways being dark, cool, and oddly - empty of chatter. My brother and I would commonly race each other down the hallways, up the stairs and often go explore the nooks and crannies of the building. I think by the time I graduated, I had found every secret passage way, crawl space, and hiding spot in that building. My brother, as a freshman in high school, even redesigned the senior courtyard which lay at the heart of the campus. Walking between classes over those bricks engraved with the names of people who have walked these grounds as well, always made me smile and think of David. To me the high school wasn't just a building where I spent the 8th-12th grade years of my life... it was so much deeper than that. And I think if it's hard for me to see it go... I can't imagine what it's like for my mom. I hate the fact when she drives the two miles from our house to downtown, she won't be passing by the grand old high school anymore that was her home away from home for 34 years... she'll be passing by an empty lot.

My town has changed. Naturally the whole world growing up used to revolve around my little corner of town; my home is the last home on the last street on the west side of town, right off Route 50. Across the street from my hill is the Diary Queen. Right next to that was the Stock Yards. Go into town from there and you pass the pool... where I spent almost every day of my summers growing up (when not at the ball park, at camp, or forced to stay home and work on my 4-H projects). I even worked there as a lifeguard once I was old enough. A few blocks away from the pool was the Library and the High School. Down the street from the High School was the other Stock Yards. A few blocks away from the High School was the Elementary School. A few blocks away from that was the Grocery Store and then the bank where my dad worked. Everything was so centrally located, so compact, so walkable, bikeable, and liveable. Tree lined streets with old houses that had been stops on the underground railway nestled right in the thick of down town, close to it all, close to the action.

What is left now? The stock yards are gone, the downtown schools are all gone. Things that seem to be taking their place are Wal Marts, Burger Kings, Taco Bells, Dollar Trees, and Dress Barns. They all line the roads that lead to the next county, things that provide for you on your way out of town. The true heart and the soul of the city is gone, it's been replaced by cheap everyday crap, the same things that line every mid sized town all across the Midwest. Nothing sets us apart... nothing makes us different anymore. It saddens me to go home. It pains me to see store front after store front empty. I know my parents have been active in the community and they care. My dad while on City Council and the Festival of the Bells Committee worked damn hard to keep things thriving. But, there is only so much you can do.

I am not looking forward to seeing the remnants when I return for the holidays.

All these photos come from a great set on flickr that someone shot during the auction for things that were in the school. Check them out and remember the magic of the little details that you forgot.

To Whomever Gets My Dog: a story

I Imagine I'm not the only one who from time to time, gets sappy forwarded emails from their parents and relatives. And, as long as the forward doesn't tell me to then forward it on to sixty of my closest friends or I'll get the plague or come down with a nasty rash in neither regions go on about religious or political mumbo jumbo, then I'm normally okay with them. Anyways, this is a forward that my mother recently shared with me. It put a little smile on my face and warmed my heart on this cold fall morning. Thusly, I'm sharing it with you.

To: Whomever Gets My Dog -- They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street. But something was still missing as I attempted to settle into my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did. But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike. For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to. I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey. This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me." Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that?? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down, with his back to me. Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie, " I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice.".... ..... To Whomever Gets My Dog: Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I have to go to try to make it right. So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you. First, he loves tennis balls...the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't....matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly. Next, commands: Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones - "sit," "stay," "come," "heel. " He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business. I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog. Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand. He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car - I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows. Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially. Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new. And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you.... His name's not Reggie. I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it,well... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems. His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive. Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter... in the "event"... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word. Well, this letter is getting too downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. But still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.. That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades. All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good- bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth. Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me." Thank you, Paul Mallory ________ I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer. I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog. "Hey, Tank," I said quietly. The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright. "C' mere boy." He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor.? He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. "Tank," I whispered. His tail swished. I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him. "It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again. "Yeah?? Ball?? You like that??? Ball? " Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. And when he came back...... he had three tennis balls in his mouth.