I’m going to take more time to smell the flowers in 2021. How about you? — Art by Pat Bean
“Sometimes when you’re in a dark place, you think you have been buried, but you’ve actually been planted.” – Christine Caine
The New Year is almost upon us. Most people I know are loudly exclaiming Thank Gawd! And who wouldn’t be glad to leave Covid and malicious, undemocratic politics in the rear-view mirror. That’s not to say we will be free of both in upcoming months, but at least we’ve gotten down the road a bit.
While I haven’t been affected as badly by Covid as most because I’m retired, and didn’t lose my job and income, I am in that vulnerable 80 plus age group that dies from the disease more often than others. So, fear and common sense has curtailed loving hugs, daily drop-ins from friends stopping by for a chat and perhaps a cup of coffee or a night cap, and my annual excursions to visit my scattered family or travel for pleasure.
I’ve mostly stayed home, ordering everything I need from Walmart or Amazon, which has left my wandering feet a bit claustrophobic – and foaming at the mouth over the daily political shenanigans that come with the morning news. It’s distressing enough to curdle my cream-laced coffee.
Being a stay-at-home, however, has changed my life a bit. I’m reading more, have organized all my drawers and closet, and have spent at least 30 minutes a day journaling my thoughts, and finally restarted work on my memoir. I’ve also streamed a few more movies on my Kindle (I don’t own a TV) and I ‘ve communicated more via text, email, zoom or letters with family and friends.
Patricia Summitt, women’s basketball coach who died in 2016, summed up an attitude that I now claim as my own. “It is what it is. But it will be what you make it.”
And since research has shown that people who look at life with a positive respective live longer than pessimists, I’m going to continue believing that silver linings do exist.
That said, I’m looking forward to the New Year as a glass half full and not half empty.
In 2019, my word for the new year was Kindness. To that in 2020, I added the word, Respect. I’m taking both of those words as mottos to live by with me into 2021, plus adding the exclamation: Dammit, Just Do It. Whether it be answering the writing muse immediately when it calls, making my bed when I first get up, or calling a friend when I think about her, there’s no reason for me to add it to an already too-long to-do list, I’m just going to do it.
So, what’s your New Year’s Resolution?
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
“To wake alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest things in the world.” – Freya Stark (I felt like that many times during my RV-ing years.)
I had planned a road trip from Ogden, Utah, to Texas that included a side trip to Sierra Vista, Arizona, where I had engaged a birding guide to help me find an Elegant Trogon, a bird which I had failed to see on my own on three earlier trips.
The carefully-timed, two-week holiday had been planned so I could attend school graduation ceremonies for some of my grandkids as well as hunt for birds.
Three days before the trip, after three years of serious looking, I suddenly found and bought the RV of my dreams, one I would live and travel in full time after my rapidly approaching retirement. The 21-foot, Class C, RV had a Winnebago home perched on a Volkswagen chassis with a spunky 6-cylinder engine.
The purchase necessitated rapid changes to my traveling plans that includedcanceling motel reservations and researching and making reservations at RV parks along the way.
I didn’t take possession of the RV until the evening before my trip, Friends came over to help me christen it with a few drinks. I named her Gypsy Lee, the first name for the wanderer in my soul, and the second for my grandfather’s last name and my middle name. My mother had told me I inherited her father’s traveling itch.
What with packing and stocking the RV the next day, I got a late travel start, and made it only to Lake Powell before I needed to camp for the night.
I was going to spend it at Wahweap Marina Campground, but when I said I wasn’t going to hook up because I needed an early start (and because I was somewhat intimidated about my first hookup), the kindly campground attendant suggested I go six miles back up the road and camp on the beach at Lone Rock Beach as it would be cheaper.
The overnight fee at Lone Rock was just $6, but I paid only $3 because of my senior citizen’s pass. “Don’t get stuck in the sand,” the gate attendant said, after I paid him.
I didn’t – but I almost did, which taught me my first lesson about driving an RV: Make sure everything is secured before operating vehicle. When I had gunned Gypsy Lee to get her past a sandy stretch that had been created during the night, my cupboards flew open and a bunch of items fell out.
Once I got everything back in order, I drove on to Sierra Vista, and checked into an RV campground, where I had to make my first motorhome hookup to electricity, water and sewer. The first two took only a minute, the last left me perplexed. My sewer hose connection didn’t fit the park’s sewer connection.
I went to the office, pleading ignorance, admitting it was my first hook up, and asking for help. They had just the thing: A gadget that filled the gap between the two differing connections. If I remember right it cost about $10.
With that in hand, I made my first hook up – and was quite proud of myself. I woke early the next morning and was picked up by the birding guide for our day’s outing. It went better than planned, I not only got the elegant trogon for my life list, I added another dozen as well.
As for that gadget, I had bought, I never had to use it again. For nine years, every one of the campgrounds I stayed at had hookups compatible with my RV.
“If you obey all the rules you miss all the fun.” – Katherine Hepburn
“Never ever underestimate the importance of having fun.” – Randy Pausch
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
Half a lifetime ago, an artist friend gave me a large abstract painting after I fell in love with it. I call it “X Marks the Spot,” and today it sits above my dining room table where it frequently catches my eye.
It means many things to me. First it reminds me of a special friend who is no longer alive. His name was Richard Sheppard , and he was a unique individual who always colored outside the lines. He was there for me during a heartbreak period when I was feeling quite sorry for myself.
Richard took about 15 minutes of me wallowing in pity before he started rolling around on the floor chanting “pitty-Pat, pitty-Pat, pitty-Pat! I stopped whining and started laughing, and then with his urging, I began to reflect on all the positive things I then had going in my life.
It began a pattern that has followed me ever since. Whenever I get down in the dumps, I ask myself how many women in the world would exchange places with me. And when the answer is millions, I stop feeling sorry for myself and get on with my quite good, if not perfect, life.
And just looking at that painting each day reminds me to be thankful for life itself.
The painting, with its colorful hues of olives, persimmon, ocher and raspberry reds, also reminds me of my two rafting journeys through the Grand Canyon, where I not only observed similar colors but cliff walls scarred with marks similar to the Xes in the painting.
Since those outdoor adventures are at the top of my list of amazing days, reliving them in my mind gives me a boost more powerful than any energy drink.
Finally, as I look at this painting, I ask myself which X represents me this day. Sometimes it’s one of the larger reds and some days it’s one of the smaller, less brilliant colored Xes. Fanciful, I know. But fun.
And who in the heck doesn’t need a bit of fun in their lives these days?
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining
The difference between a fairy tale and a river trip: The fairy tale begins “once upon a time,” while the river trip tale begins” “No shit! There I was …”
I came across the above words in one of my journals this morning.
I wrote it in the late 1980s, shortly after spending a week paddling down the Salmon River through The River of No Return Wilderness Area. It was an exciting white-water adventure in which each day ended with our group sitting around a campfire discussing present and past float trips.
I knew all the stories would get bigger with each telling, including my own.
My first rafting trip took place in 1983, a pleasant outing in a friend’s raft on a stretch of the Snake River between Hagerman and Bliss in Southern Idaho.
Within a month, I had my own five-person raft and could be found on the water with friends many summer weekends. I didn’t miss a summer of rafting for nearly 25 years.
Thinking about those rafting adventures this morning, facing another week of isolation from people I love, brought me immense pleasure. Meanwhile, it’s a good thing I’m a journal keeper. Since our memories are so inclined to tall tales with each passing year, my journal entries, written immediately following an event, are more truthful than my scattered brain..
While the taller tales make for more interesting conversations, it’s best I think to stick to reality and truth. I just wish our political leaders understood this.
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
My friends, Robert and Karla’s Christmas Tree made me smile.
“A sense of humor is needed armor. Joy in one’s heart and some laughter on one’s lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life.” – Hugh Sidey
The Ornaments Say It All
If ever we needed a bit of laughter in our lives, it’s certainly these days. And my good friends Robert and Karla understand this quite well.
I had barely walked into their St. George, Utah, home last week, when I suddenly burst out laughing. They had already put up their Christmas tree, and it screamed Covid.
But it was still beautiful, even with its toilet paper, masks and hand sanitizer ornaments. The icing was the toilet paper garland that had been carefully wrapped around the tree.
The next three days at their home was full of love with enough laughter to make my whole outlook on life brighter — and a much needed, break for me from the chaos of today’s world.
Bean Pat: To my friends Robert and Karla and their dog Bentley from me and my dog Scamp for a wonderful Thanksgiving.
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
I ‘m thankful for trees, just any old tree. — Watercolor by Pat Bean
In all my 81 years I’ve never lived through a year like this one. Covid and hateful politics have turned America upside down. I’m ready to get off the Merry-Go-Round and live in a kinder world where people can disagree but still work together to try and make life better for all. The sooner people realize no one can have everything they want, the quicker this can happen.
Is this even possible? I’m not hopeful, but I’m still going to think of my glass as half full and not half empty. Thinking about all my many blessings and the little things that fill my days with joy actually makes this easy.
So here goes: In no particular order, my annual Thanksgiving blog listing 100 things I’m thankful for.
1: It begins with my large family of children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and all their spouses and partners that I so dearly love, and who in return make me feel loved. I spent half my life searching for love, sometimes in the wrong places, before realizing it was around me all the time.
2: My canine companion Scamp, who has now been with me for 17 months. I’ve always owned dogs but never had one as challenging as him. He was supposed to be a small Schnauzer-mix, eight months old and female when I adopted him from a shelter. He turned out to be a 42-pound Siberian Husky-Shih Tzu mix, male and most likely much younger than advertised – and he wasn’t house broken. He’s been a challenge from the first but has kept my life interesting and I would hate to think of life now without him.
3: Tucson sunrises and sunsets. I see the sunrise from my bedroom window, sometimes before I get out of bed, and I try to make time to watch the usually awesome sunsets from my living room balcony.
4: My friend Jean’s chocolate chip cookies.
5: A nightly hot bath that always relaxes this old broad’s body so she can sleep better at night. It was the only thing I missed when I was living on the road in a small RV that had only a tiny, cramped shower.
6: Books. As long as I can buy a book I want when I want it, I’ll never feel poor, or lonely.
7: My journals, 50 years of them, some of which I’ve finally begun rereading for the first time. The early ones are missing months and are sketchy, but the ones I write today allow me to have long conversations with myself and many of the authors I read.
8: The New York Times: As a longtime journalist, it’s been sad watching one newspaper after another fold, including The Dallas Times Herald, which I grew up reading, and The Houston Post, which I was a stringer for during my early journalism years. Just as sad has been watching some media take sides on issues and slanting the news instead of just reporting the facts. I feel the NY Times still exhibits the values I, and the publications I worked for, had during my 37-year journalism career.
9: A soft bed with clean, sweet smelling sheets to crawl into every night.
10: My pain doctor, who gives me a steroid shot in my back every four or five months that allows me to keep trekking up and down three flights of stairs at least six times a day. Advil helps, too.
11: Social Security.
12: America, with all its faults, because it still is the land of the free.
13: Birds, whose fascinating lives fuel a late-blooming passion within me to see them and learn about them, even if it’s just watching their behaviors from my third-floor balconies.
14: Soft blankets to snuggle beneath when it’s chilly.
15: My female role models: Anne Richards, Margaret Mead, Molly Ivins, Maya Angelou, Helen Reddy, Ellen Goodman, Susan Wittig Albert, Susan B. Anthony, Pearl Buck, Nelly Bly, Osa Johnson, Barbara Jordan, Amelia Earhart and all the other women I knew or read about who never let gender get in the way of their goals.
16: Rainbows after storms.
17: Daisies and gardenias, and all the other species of flowers.
18. Comfortable shoes.
19: Aspen trees in the fall, and live oaks, and sycamores and well, just any old tree.
22: A stormy day with a good book and a comfortable chair.
23: Surprises.
24: My morning cream-laced coffee.
25: Friends, who enrich my live in many ways.
26: Daily telephone chats with my oldest son, D. C. And the less frequent calls from my other children as well.
27: A Jack and Coke nightcap.
28: That I still have a zest for life, and learning.
29: Story Circle Network, my support group of wonderful women who helped me find my voice, write my book Travels with Maggie, and actually get it published.
30: The Internet, which while sometimes annoying, brings the world to my fingertips, lets my see my great-grandchildren as they grow up, and helps me find answers to my million and one questions.
31: My friend Jean’s dog Dusty, because she’s my dog Scamp’s best friend.
32: Smiles and laughter. Anytime, anyplace.
33: My granddaughter Shanna and her wife Dawn, who moved to Tucson to be near me, and who enrich my life.
34: People who wear masks out of respect for other people’s safety as well as their own.
35. Hand sanitizer. Who would have thought we would ever be thankful for this item?
36: Grocery delivery so I don’t have to go inside stores in this age of Covid, but also because someone else carries the weight up my three flights of stairs.
37: Scamp’s no-pull harness, because he’s a strong mutt,
38: Card and board games with friends.
39: Moisturize,
40: The Catalina Mountains, my outdoor backdrop.
41: Art and Music that bring joy to my eyes and ears.
42: That I’m a writer because it keeps my observations skills sharp, and gives purpose to my days.
43: Hot tubs.
44: The helicopter ride I recently took over the Grand Canyon to help celebrate my dear friend Kim’s birthday.
45: The sweet-tasting naval oranges that came with my latest grocery order
46: My dog’s new groomer.
47: My Kindle and my computer. Still not that fond of a smart phone.
48: My daughter-in-law Cindi, who took on the job of being my guardian angel.
49: Scented candles.
50: A new tye-dye T-shirt.
51: People who are kind
52: Our National Parks, Refuges and Forests.
53: Washers and Dryers and all the other appliances that make life easier with time left over to read.
54: Electricity for all those appliances and reading lamps.
55: Vaccines that have rid the world of many diseases – with hopefully a new one on the horizon.
56: Audible books.
57: That I paid off my car this year.
58: Morning walks with Scamp.
59: That I enjoy cooking and trying new recipes.
60: Happy hours with friends.
61: A good haircut,
62: Favorite televisions programs: Survivor, Amazing Race, Sunday Morning, PBS Mysteries and my latest, The Pack.
63: A hot cup of Lemon-Ginger tea.
64. People who read my blog, or buy my book Travels with Maggie.
65: A snail-mail letter from my good friend Charlie.
66: When I’m able to solve a computer glitch all by myself.
67: A good manicure.
68: Finally realizing what a strong, good but feisty woman I had for a mother.
69: That my great-grandson Junior liked the Doctor Doolittle books I liked when I was his age.
70: That some of my family likes to hang my paintings on their walls.
71: Air conditioning.
72: Wolf Brand Chili, a quick meal on a day when I don’t feel like cooking.
73: That I had a job I loved all my working days.
74: That I finally gave up all notions that I could be perfect, and that I’ve finally learned to give myself credit for all the things I do and stopped beating up on myself for all the things I didn’t do.
75: My rubber tree plant on my balcony that has survived for at least 25 years.
76: The smell of a desert landscape after a heavy rain.
77: My travel memories of the Galapagos, Africa, Japan and many more big and small adventures.
78: That I can still travel.
79: Making new friends.
80: The Sonoran Desert in which I now live.
81: Wayne Dyer’s book Your Erroneous Zones, which set me on a whole new way of thinking back in the 1970s.
82: That I have a nice, safe place to live.
83: Clean water to drink.
84: That I live an independent life and can still take care of myself.
85: Nice neighbors.
86: Watching the stars through my bedroom windows at night.
87: Tasty soup made from leftovers.
88: Paintings that I love hanging on my walls.
89: Weekend pancake breakfasts with my friend Jean, and our dogs Dusty and Scamp, who always get a pancake, too.
90: A Zoom meeting with my friend Kim in Utah.
91: Colorful stationary.
92: Cajun food.
93: A freshly cleaned apartment – and car.
94: Temperatures below 100 degrees, which are rare during Tucson’s summer.
95: My brother Robert, who sees the world different from me, which makes our connection something we have both had to work on, which makes it even sweeter.
96: A good movie that makes me both laugh and cry, ditto for a book.
97: Days when Scamp lets me sleep past 5:30 a.m. before demanding his walk.
98: My recent view of the Colorado River from the old Navajo Bridge, just before it enters the Grand Canyon, and memories of floating beneath this bridge twice.
99. Arriving safe at friends Robert and Karla’s home in St, George, Utah, after a nine-hour drive from Tucson and being welcomed with love, hugs and a Jack and Coke.
100. Having Thanksgiving with friends who treat me like family.
Just aa it took many tiles to create this mural, so it will take many acts of kindness to create a better world. — Photo of St. Louis Zoo aviary mural by Pat Bean
“Together we can change the world, just one random act of kindness at a time.” – Ron Hall.
I noted in my journal this morning that it was Friday the 13th, but I didn’t know until I opened my email that November 13 is also World Kindness Day.
What a great idea, was my first thought. When did this happen was my second? I’ve been aware in recent years that something is being celebrated every day of the year, but this was a new one for me.
With a little research, I learned that the day had been designated 22 years ago by the World Kindness Movement, a coalition of nations’ kindness NGOs (non-governmental organizations) and is now celebrated in numerous countries, including the United States.
My third thought was that every day should be World Kindness Day.
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
Rest stop after a wandering-wondering day without stress. — Photo by Pat Bean
“Not all those who wander are lost.” J.R.R. Tolkien
APage From My Journal
It was my 22nd day on the road in a slow meandering adventure from Idaho, where I had spent the summer, to Nashville, Indiana, where I had stopped for two days while Mother Nature weeped her blessings.
It was still drizzling when I began the day’s journey to North Bend Ohio, about 100 miles away. This was my preferred daily mileage as it allowed me start my day leisurely with cream-laced coffee, do some writing, and then take my dog, Pepper, for a long walk before we got on the road in our RV, Gypsy Lee.
The first town we passed was a tiny one called Gnaw Bone. Why, I wondered, would somebody name a town Gnaw Bone?
Perhaps they didn’t. It was originally a French settlement called Narbonne, which we Americans might have mistranslated as Gnaw Bone.
But the question filled my head with nonsense for a while as I traveled down several Indiana backroads. Usually I have these to myself, but not today.
The narrow tree-lined roads I had chosen were not untraveled roads. I had plenty of vehicular company, including a lavender semi that passed me in a swirl of blowing autumn leaves. Now I’ve seen purple semis but never a lavender one before.
Was a man or woman driving? I hadn’t been able to look because the large truck passed me on a curve, and I had wisely kept my eyes on the road.
And then I found myself quoting out loud to Pepper: “I never saw a purple cow. I never hope to see one. But I would rather see, than be one.”
It was just that kind of day.
Then a few miles farther down the road, there was a green farm truck with a rear sticker asking: “Who is John Galt?”
It started my brain thinking about Ayn Rand’s book, Atlas Shrugged, and from there to how we seem to live our lives at either end of a pendulum swing.
And so. this wandering-wondering day went, with my brain circuits traveling ever so much faster than Gypsy Lee.
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
I feel like these American whistlers, just sitting around, watching the day go by.. — Photo by Pat Bean.
For four years I’ve been racking my brain to find a reason the Christian Right has been supporting a man more flagrantly sexually immoral than the former president they condemned so heartily for his sexual sins.
To my way of thinking, it felt like the Christian world had been turned upside down. But finally, a light bulb in my fuzzy brain was ignited. One simple reason is that the Christian Right is a predominantly patriarchal society. It wasn’t that I didn’t know this. It was the reason I left my church almost 40 years ago. Its teachings stressed that woman would not have access to the highest degree in heaven without a man.
To have remained in that church would have been that I accepted being a second-class human, and I hadn’t accepted that from the minute I could think for myself at about six years old.
It is most common in religious right thinking that a man has to lead, and even if a man isn’t a good person, too many male Christians and concurring females, felt it was better to put a man in charge of this country than a woman, especially one who thought she was as good as any man.
This explains, to my dimwitted brain, why this country has had to put up with four years of bullying, lying, racism and flagrant egotism from a man who considers himself first and all others second — if even that.
To think that anyone who considers himself a Christian and voted for this man today, especially after actually accepting his faults, continues to blow my mind.
And why our leaders in Congress, many who spoke out against him before he gained office, did not call him out for his behavior and continued to back him saddens me. Sure, they got some of their political goals met, but only by accepting that the end was more important than the means.
I don’t expect our president to be perfect. No one is. But I do expect him to be a decent human being.
I should have written this blog earlier – and not waited until I was biting my nails over today’s election results. They are already down to the quick. I suspect that whoever wins, we are facing some tough days ahead.
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
It’s is better to sit on my balcony watching the sun go down each night knowing that my butt was sitting down writing earlier in the day. — Photo my Dawn Lee, who enjoyed the sunset with me and my granddaughter this past week.
“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” – E.L. Doctorow
The Write Words
When I write, truly write with focus, without interruptions or editing, I amaze myself with how many words end up on the page. When I do this, my fingers on the keyboard often go places my brain hasn’t yet reached.
And after I have written, be it a blog, a freelance profile, an essay, or a bit more on my memoir, which has been languishing untouched for way too long, I come away with a great sense of achievement. Writing makes me feel good about myself, even if the writing is just for myself.
But physically sitting myself down in front of a keyboard, butt in chair as writers call it, is a daily struggle. This is the reason why these first words of a blog titled Rantings of a Third Kind sang so true to me this morning:
“I am writing, I am writing, I am so totally writing! This is the mantra, I am always reciting. But, it so damned hard, as my mind is against me fighting…”
I signed up six times for NaNoWriMo – which stands for National Novel Writing Month, a free program to help writers complete a 50,000-word novel in 30 days– and dropped out the first five times before actually getting a certificate of completion for my final effort.
November is NaNo Month, by the way, and the program began today. You can check it out at: https://nanowrimo.org/
My daughter, Deborah, is attempting the program this year. I, however, have just vowed to spend at least 30 minutes every day writing. I started my goal at the beginning of the week, and it was easy as rolling downhill — until today when I started coming up with every excuse in the book why I didn’t need to write on a Sunday.
But then I read the Rantings of a Third Kind blog and picked up the author’s mantra: I am writing, I am writing, I am so totally writing!
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
Looking for a supportive network? I found mine at Story Circle Network. Check us out at: https://www.storycircle.org/
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“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters.” — Ursula K. Le Guin
Pat Bean is a writer, avid birder, hiker and passionate nature observer with wanderlust in her soul. She spent nine years living and traveling in a small RV. She now lives in Tucson with Scamp, a rescue who was supposed to be a Schnauzer mix but turned out to be a Siberian Husky-Shih Tzu mix who is as stubborn as his owner, her granddaughter says. She was also a journalist for 37 years, and can be reached at patbean@msn.com
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