The Billy Goat

How stinks that goat on yonder hill,

When all it eats is chlorophyll?

That’s an old poem that my mother had never heard before we moved to England, when I was a child. Our first house in England was a beautiful cottage in Barrington, Cambridge. The house was beside a river with a large garden and for some reason three thatched train carriages in the yard. It was probably the coldest house we ever lived in and the family joke was that the fat on the bacon congealed before it made it to the breakfast table. Having come from a 2,000 acre farm in Maryland, USA, with lots of animals, my mother tried to make us feel at home in our new environment by acquiring a few pets. The first was a miniature apricot poodle to try and replace my lamb that I had to leave behind and the second was a male goat. She brought a male goat home thinking it would be great to keep down the undergrowth alongside the river and for us to play with. Someone saw a sucker when they saw her coming. As adorable as it was as a baby it grew into a very smelly, willful animal that just stood most of the time on a small pillar, with all four feet, that happened to be right outside the front door. Every time you would open the door this increasingly large and stinky goat with horns would knock you down in the rush to get into the house. It became such a menace that my mother tried to find a home for it with all of the local farmers. Everyone of course knowing that you don’t want a male goat, except my mother, who, give her her due, was a fast learner. One day the Vicar passed by, collecting items for the church fete to be held in the common gardens in the town. While drinking his obligatory glass of warm sherry, the vicar was surprised to see that my mother had donated the goat to the cause. After much discussion about her generosity, the Vicar left with the billy goat in hand. I am sure that its ghost still perches on the narrow stump outside the door at the parsonage to this very day.

You see no one wants a male goat, a sad fact but true.

Saratoga High Reunion

I won’t be attending the 40th reunion this year of Saratoga High School’s Class of ’71 (I graduated a year earlier and was never on the ‘guest list’ until now), but by sheer fluke the reunion is coming to me. After searching for Rob Christian for almost 35 years, and finally finding him through one of my blogs, he and his wife Michel are coming to spend time here in Mojácar (Spain), during July. To make it even better Steve Smith and his wife Anne are coming too. We will have a great time and even have a go at interpretive dancing, so that we feel that we are taking part in the actual reunion. Maybe we can even all get together on Skype and join in. My best buddies from my childhood all seem to come from Saratoga and most of them have been here to visit, like, Patty Peck, Lisa Sanders, Sharon Blosk, Mark Vincent, Terrie Armstrong and Kathleen Coakley. Thanks to the internet I have been able to stay in touch with or make new contact with people like Mark Buckley, Larry Ford, Mary Johnson, Mary Pestarino, Jim Adams, Debbie Acker and many more. Saratoga really was the greatest place to grow up and my friends from there are the best. HAVE A GREAT REUNION SARATOGA HIGH!!!! Mojácar toasts in your honor.

Say 'Hi' to the kids at Fruitvale Junior High...!

What is a Parent?

A parent is the person who raises you, nurtures, teaches and loves you through, good times and bad times; a person that is always there to help. A parent teaches you right from wrong and moral values. Biology has nothing to do with it. It makes me really mad when the courts say that the biological parent has legal right over a child or children, when they may not have seen or even contacted them in years. Or worse; they come in and out of the children’s lives and make false promises. What makes these people, who have abandoned their children, think that when they are feeling alone and getting older that the children, they never knew, should step in and let them be part of a family? If separated parents come to an arrangement and both parties take responsibility for the children then it is a different matter. When the children have been abandoned; without child support, birthday, Christmas or even valentines cards, have never had any attempt made to stay in contact by phone, mail or visits, I think it is cruel and pathetic that they decide to get in contact when they know the children are grown and doing well. The worse parents of all are the ones who every few years move into the child’s life, promising to continue the relationship; only to disappear for years at a time, only to return when it suits them. Don’t they realize that most of these children have a new parent in their lives who is stable and who loves them unconditionally; if they don’t then the estranged parent should never have become estranged. They should have stood up to their responsibilities and not play tug-of-war with the children’s delicate emotions. When one parent disappears sometimes the remaining parent tries to make excuses for the missing parent. This is not a good idea. You should never tell children bad things about their missing parent when they are young but you also shouldn’t build them into a hero figure. If a parent has abandoned their children for their whole life and these children have a happy, healthy and loving family than I think they should stay out of the children’s happy life because in most cases it just brings grief and problems. They usually end up screwing up again anyway and disappear once again, leaving the children emotionally scarred.

Pictures from an Album

We found an old album which must have found its way over to Spain in 1980 during my escape to a better future.
Jessica after spending a day with Terrie Armstrong. See the haircut!
Sarah's Birthday. Sarah and Jessica in Ben Lomond
Jessica and Samantha Ross in 1979 in Ben Lomond, California.
This one is Mary Johnson Smith with me and Jessica, must be in 1977 in River Ranch Circle in Saratoga, California.