When this was released in December, 1966, it was a huge hit; while I was watching it, more than anything, I wanted to visit Shanghai. Sadly, in 1970 I took a new position in Hong Kong, and while we lived a short distance apart, American Citizens couldn’t visit China. Anyway, thanks to Amazon Video, I could get a copy and watch it here at home. It’s still a great movie; I never made it to Shanghai, but living in Hong Kong for 4 years put me pretty close.
“The Sand Pebbles” captivated me all over again. Steve McQueen’s portrayal of the American gunboat engineer was both intense and relatable, showcasing the curiosities of life in an unfamiliar land. Watching the film transported me to the 1920s, a time of turbulence and transformation in China. Each scene brought back memories of wandering Hong Kong’s streets and marveling at the blend of tradition and modernity. Although I may not have set foot in Shanghai, the film’s lessons and emotions resonated deeply with me. It’s fascinating how a movie can evoke such strong feelings and memories.
Occasionally I think about getting older (every minute, really), and I don’t feel alone. In our church, we have a weekly meeting called “Men’s Group,” which is the most fun, interesting group of men I’ve ever known. We are all nearly the same age, except for two gentlemen over 90; one of these guys was a ferocious Marine Officer who made it through Vietnam. When I saw this comment, I immediately knew it fit the bill for us. Perhaps any reader of this will think so, too.
Not long after moving to Bangkok, Thailand, we got a small dog from a work colleague. She had an uncertain background, but grew into a 50+-pound dog who had 8 puppies under our bed. Our friends named her Shaytoon, meaning something in another language, and we decided to keep that name.
She quickly became an amazing family companion. When our youngest daughter was born, she watched over her protectively. When a visitor leaned down to touch my daughter’s hair, Shaytoon moved closer and rested her open jaw against the visitor’s arm. She didn’t bite, but clearly showed she was there to protect our daughter.
In another memorable incident, a grocery delivery boy teased her during his deliveries to our house. One day, he stood by the front door and started mocking her. To everyone’s surprise, Shaytoon ran at the screen door and burst through it, chasing after the boy. He ran away quickly, and when he returned the next day, he made sure not to disturb our dog.
A few years later, we moved to Hong Kong, where strict animal quarantine laws required us to keep her in a shelter for 180 days. We visited her regularly, but it was a long separation for everyone. Finally, she came home with us, showing a new tattoo in her ear as proof of her good health.
Fast forward to our return to San Francisco. Shaytoon joined us and quickly adapted to life as a City Dog, enjoying rides and walks everywhere. From picnics at Stinson Beach to runs on the Marina Green, we were always together. I’m sure she saw herself as just another eager member of our family.
Years passed, and like many dogs, she got sick, had hearing loss, and trouble moving. This is a tough time for any family, and we faced the hard choice of putting her to sleep. One day, while our daughters were at school and my wife was out, I took Shaytoon on her last ride in our Volvo, with the sunroof open and her head out of the window. We went to the Marina Green for one last walk before heading to the Vet nearby. It was time, and I was the only one who could do this. It still hurts to remember that day.
As I took her into the doctor’s office, I hugged her and nuzzled her soft blond fur, something I had done many times. I took off her collar and her 1978 San Francisco dog license before she was taken inside; in moments, she was gone. I drove home heartbroken, realizing we would never be together again. I’ve kept the license tag all these years (it’s the image in this posting.) She was a cherished family member, and I’m grateful for this reminder of our time together. Thanks for everything, Shaytoon.
I have always enjoyed reading, and frequently a small item will catch my eye. This small prayer appeared today and, in a world of unrest, is a simple and meaningful reminder of what is important to everyone. Reading it made me smile and brightened my morning.
For the past year or so, I’ve had the pleasure of leading our church’s communications committee. I’ve always enjoyed writing and creative projects, and this role brings them together in so many ways—from preparing bulletins and coordinating holiday mailouts to launching a brand-new website and organizing a special fundraising campaign featuring lobster dinners, with lobsters flown in just for the occasion.
Recently, I’ve been dealing with a medical issue that affects my writing and, most of all, makes it harder to organize my thoughts. It’s been frustrating, and I’ve worried that I’ve let our team down. Last month, I announced that I was stepping down from my leadership role, and honestly, I’ve felt terrible about it. Then today, completely out of the blue, the leader of all events and activities called to tell me how much she appreciated my leadership and to remind me that I shouldn’t feel I’ve let the church down. She also said there will always be opportunities to lend a hand. Her words made me feel so much better—you know, that’s what good friends are for.
Every morning, I try to think of a thought or scripture to guide me in my daily activities. Today’s devotional focus was on the fact that no trial is beyond help. Every day, I think of the challenges I face as I grow older every minute. It seems that I have every doctor’s phone number on speed dial. I wonder what lies ahead and how I will manage change. This morning I happened to see this image online; it immediately resonated with me and everyone who thinks similarly. Enjoy the day, my friends.
I remember the card system so well. When I was a kid, my mom took me to our city library in San Francisco, about 2 blocks away from our house. I loved those trips and, while I was too little to use them, she would look through the cards for what she wanted for me. Flash forward decades to when I saw a card rack in our local church library. It was probably at least 40 years old; when I opened it, I found handwritten entries just like the ones I saw as a kid. What a wonderful flashback.
Everything in the restaurant sparkled beautifully, and the view was simply breathtaking. My favorite spot was a cozy little area in the side called ‘Cellar in the Sky,’ which felt like a special secret only a few could enjoy. It was such a treat—reserved for about 40 guests, creating an intimate, exclusive atmosphere. When I booked my table, they didn’t reveal the menu or the wine list, adding a sense of mystery and anticipation. You paid in advance, which made everything feel even more special. I had several wonderful meals there, in the ‘Cellar,” and those moments are truly unforgettable.
In Shanksville, Pennsylvania, we heard the incredible sound of chimes in the middle of a lovely pasture. The chimes are inside the Tower of Voices, a visual and audible reminder of Flight 93’s crash in 2018. The structure is unlike any other; air flows through the tower walls to reach the inner chimes.
On the day we visited, we were the only two people for miles around. Just as we walked toward the tower’s base, the wind picked up, and we heard the faint sounds of the 40 individual wind chimes. Suddenly, they all began to chime; we were surrounded by the most peaceful melody I had ever heard. It is incredible. It’s something you will never forget. I am forever thankful we shared the beauty of remarkable surroundings on that hallowed day..
I wrote this before Dolly’s untimely death. While the world mourns her, we who live 25 miles away from her birthplace share her family’s profound loss. We will miss you, dear friend.
Dolly, you are fantastic; you have lived your life perfectly. I’d like to be more like you, for sure. Visiting Dollywood is like looking in a mirror of everything that reflects you. I visited there with my daughter recently, and it was a delight in every way.
I happen to live about 25 miles from where Dolly was born and raised; she is genuinely our local, living heroine. She’s a part of the fabric of Eastern Tennessee, starting her career on a local radio show and achieving global fame and recognition for doing the right thing.
Long before her super-stardom, a local Knoxville grocer named Cas Walker sponsored a radio show; in 1956, at the age of 10, Dolly began her remarkable career in singing and songwriting. She’ll surely never, ever, give up being wonderful.
