Book Reviews by Ehlen Administration

I had a border collie named Chance. He was the first dog my husband and I got after we got married, and when he died - 3 well-guarded kids and squirrel-free yard later - we mourned his loss. Like Weiskircher’s dogs, and his wife, Chance died of cancer. We only suspected his illness after it was far too late to attempt any treatment; it was in his spleen. There are still times I tear up thinking about how much I love that dog still. He was a dog who instinctively protected, patrolled, and processed everything that needed to happen in the order it needed to happen. Reading Flying Geese and the Hope Dogs, most chapters reminded me of Chance. While I don’t associate his loss with the loss of a beloved spouse, I was constantly enchanted with the portraits of Genie intertwined with his dogs, and on some level was able to engage with the story through its twists in turns, in part because I too have been surrounded by dogs for most of my life. I’m grateful to be ab...

So about a week ago I got a text from my dad that my Uncle Paul died. Just out of the blue – your Uncle Paul died today. While this would be distressing anyway so close after my grandma’s death, it was particularly distressing given that my Uncle Paul was my dad’s youngest brother – 11 years younger. He was 43 years old when he died, and we still don’t know why. I won’t pretend that I was as close to my uncle as I was to my grandmother; he was sort of awkwardly older than me in that way that as I was growing up he was in his late teens/early 20s and living his own life. I think he was barely a teenager when I was born, actually. So my memories of him are somewhat spotty, although I remember him at family functions, and he was always very nice and interested in what was going on in my life. I have vague memories of him playing with me as a baby, and there is a picture of him pushing me around in a diaper box as a toddler with me squealing in delight, and I do remember that. My dad sa...

I know, a bit of a jump cut from pregnancy (baby's doing great, btw) to death, but in the wake of yet another death in the family besides Grandma Jane 's, I thought I should post my thoughts of her that I prepared in case it was one of those memorial services where the pastor asks people randomly to come up and everyone just sort of sits there looking awkward and feeling guilty that they aren't honoring the deceased. It's probably good that he didn't, as while I can give a decent prepared speech I am not an emotional extrovert (or extrovert in any sense of the word really) and I write much better than I emote. This is as close as I come to putting my heart on my sleeve, so consider yourself lucky. I remember.... It’s hard for me to come up with just one or two memories of Grandma Jane that qualify both my relationship with her as well as my perception of her as a person. I’m a big believer in the little things in life making up the most important part of who we ar...