The Dogs on my Run

I run in the mornings at 6am before work each day. There is a lot of activity on the streets at that time, but my favorite part is the dogs I encounter along the way. The first one I meet, and Thank God he's not out very often, is a football-sized cotton ball: tiny, fluffy, curly white fur. He. Does. Not. Like. Runners. The thing goes absolutely APESHIT! The old lady who walks him holds onto the leash for dear life (mine). Fortunately, his mouth is too small to bite anywhere on my legs, and he is too little to jump high enough to bite my fingers. I assume it's a 'he' because I can't imagine a girl being such a vicious killer, which is my nickname for him. The second dog I see is a beautiful, well-behaved shepherd who runs and plays catch with his owner on the greenbelt at the college across the street from my house. I like this dog because he accepts runners and minds his own damn business. The third one is a gorgeous Golden Lab. He goes to work with his owner at the business complex near the end of my run. He is wide awake, rambunctious, and playing frisbee in the parking lot at 6:30 in the morning. He also lets me run in peace. The last dog I meet is Buffy. I heard her owner call her one day, so that's how I know her name. (I think Vicious Killer's name is "Stop It", as that is what his owner says to him all the time!) Anyhow, Buffy is an off-leash dog. I don't like meeting off-leash dogs as a runner because they usually don't like runners and you never know what they are going to do. Also, I think it's dangerous--we have a lot of coyotes near my house, who like to have pets for breakfast, so a leash is safer for both runner and dog. Buffy is not a smart dog. She is overly concerned with someone getting into a car on the other side of the street, completely oblivious to to a person quickly approaching on her side of the street. I could mug her owner and I don't think Buffy would notice. She is hell-bent on watching people across the street. And that makes me laugh on my final 100-yard stretch. So that's it: my four-legged morning gang. I love that they are out there--they keep me amused.

My Hometown

Yesterday, the Brookings Institute named my hometown, Youngstown, Ohio, number one in percentage of poverty concentration, the poorest of the poor among 100 larger cities in the United States. I didn't expect the article and the story on The Rachel Maddow Show to affect me so much, but it really made me want to cry. I admit, even as a little kid, I wanted to leave Youngstown. All I ever wanted was to live in a huge city by the ocean with football and hockey teams. I wanted it to be New York City but I ended up in Southern California. There's no football here, but I've got the beach, hockey and futbol (soccer), and I can play golf year-round. I'm happy here, but I'm so sad for Youngstown. It was fun growing up in the murder capital of the US, alongside the mafia. Although that looks like childs-play compared to the situation now. It was a far more innocent time then. Regardless of the fact that I wanted to leave, part of who I am is because of the place I'm from. Youngstown helped shape the person I am today. Every day, on the TV, in the papers and on the internet, we get news about the Occupy Movement in cities across the US. The place I'm from, and place I live, point out Occupy's premise of the extreme and growing disparity between the haves and the have-nots. There is a house for sale in a city near me on the market for $32 million, and Youngstown has nearly 50% of their poor living in extreme poverty: neighborhoods with no jobs, no stores, no hope, nothing but blight, and no way out. Where is parity, where is fairness, where is the middle ground? Where is the American Dream? Does it exist anymore for the dwindling middle class? I don't think I live as well as my parents, and my generations' children probably won't live as well as I do. How do we get back to where Youngstown is the place of my youth--a place with world-class medical facilities, a great university, a vibrant downtown, a place where you could skate at an ice rink, swim at a public pool, cruise through a beautiful park, live for Friday Night High School football, and eat the best Italian food ouside of Italy? How do we regain that ideal? I don't know the answer - I wish I did.