It is pitiful not having Brother Dave around anymore. He left for Oklahoma a couple weekends ago to attend his last year of college. I remember this same yucky feeling when he left last summer, of an empty house and way less familial energy. He says now we know how he has felt all along. Being the youngest and separated from Luke by five years, he had to stay behind as each of us left and returned, left and returned.
By the way, the name Brother Dave is from when he was about 8 years old and my family was driving our old motorhome up to Alaska. We'd stopped in to some random little Canadian church on a Sunday morning, and when they were preparing to take the offering, the leader noticed one more usher was needed. He looked our way and said, "Brother Dave?" David shrugged his shoulders and stood up to help out, somewhat confused but obedient. Then, from the seat just ahead of him, the real Brother Dave stood and walked forward. Poor David sat quickly down, ashamed. He realized a little too late that nobody here could possibly know his name, and even if they did, probably wouldn't ask a new-comer child to help take the offering. We all had to work very hard the rest of the service to contain our laughter.
* * *
Are we not straight out of the Great Depression here? This was an excursion to the neighbor's property to hunt huckleberries. Not to pick. Didn't find any. But to hunt.
My mom's cousin has a boat in which he took us onto Flathead Lake. It was a really great evening, such calm water. Here are some photos, and if one thing's clear, it's that our lives don't totally center around dogs.
Ma, Murray, and Peanut (and Dad's side)
Luke, Heather and Peanut
Cousin Bailey and MurrayCousin Dallas and Murray
Jason, speeching about why "Batman, The Dark Knight"
wasn't that amazing.
the baby and me saving David's life