Given the current crisis between Israel and Gaza, I thought this might be a good time to post the story below.  I've been meaning to for some time, not only because it's an interesting tale, but also because it gives an insider's perspective on "neutral observers."  Although it has nothing to do with Gaza itself, it does reveal some historical context that may be welcome to those interested in international law and politics.

My grandfather (really my stepfather's dad) joined the UN on New Years Day 1948 (61 years ago today), and retired in 1978 from his final positions as Director of the General Legal Division and Deputy to the Legal Counsel (positions which, today, are on the Under Secretary level).  He saw many things during his tenure, and contributed greatly to the establishment of many treaties and resolutions.  In 2005, he published a limited run (essentially for family and friends) of a short book entitled "United Nations Memories," which included among other things a two page "name dropping" section of people he'd met and worked with (George H.W. Bush, Roy Cohn, Jimmy Carter, etc.).  It also included the following story.

(NOTE: Having spent several hours transcribing everything below from one of my copies of Grandpa's book, I now realize that I should simply have scanned the pages themselves, and saved myself the aching wrists.)

We had twelve people (including ourselves) at the house for Christmas dinner.  Usually in our family, holiday meals are potluck affairs, with two or three dishes being prepared by the host and the rest brought by guests.  But I cooked more food yesterday than ever before in a single day -- with the possible exception of my brief stint as a short-order cook at the base NCO club.  We also used more dishes, pots, pans and other cooking implements than ever before.  I can't even begin to describe the exhaustion I felt at the end of the day.

It isn't the stress of dealing with a hyperactive young'un.  We may be sedentary couch potatoes, but when necessary can break out with surprising speed and stamina.

It isn't the expense involved.  Sure, I'm between jobs and our savings is almost depleted, but we can find deals and compare prices with the most frugal of destitutes.

It isn't the mess.  Footprints and spilled food & drinks are aggravating, but our house has never been what you would call tidy.

No, it's that we have come to the unfortunate conclusion that we are not a dog family.

And I hate that.  Because I should have known it ahead of time.

Strike that -- I did know it ahead of time, but let my hopes get in the way of our reality.



Fuck.
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EDIT: The first time I posted the puppy I included something saying "We're not trying to sell him, but would like to recoup a portion of what we've paid for vet bills and his crate."  That got flagged and removed.  So I posted it again saying nothing about money, and it got removed again.  So my theory now is that it was removed (a) because of something having nothing to do with money, (b) because whoever removed it the first time thinks I'll mention money to whomever responds to the second post, or (c) someone who already wrote me offering a lot less than I want keeps flagging it so nobody else can make an offer.

EDIT: I actually remember what the letter was for.  My social science teacher for senior year did a bunch of adult prep work, having us do things like invent and advertise a product, brainstorm career paths, etc.  The letter was written as a way for us to record the direction that we thought our life was going to lead us.  I'm not sure he thought we'd actually still have the damned things 20 years later.

That teacher (it was his first year teaching) wrote in my yearbook, "Great having you in class -- always a pithy comment ..."

I accompanied Mr. San Leandro to this year's CostumeCon, held at San Jose's DoubleTree Hotel. 

A couple weeks ago I was driving down our local highway, glancing over at the day laborers standing in the Home Depot parking lot. They actually stand near the Staples rather than the Home Depot itself, since that would make their purpose even more obvious (either that, or they're looking for under-the-table office jobs). I thought to myself, Well, if push comes to shove, I can always try that. They generally get paid about $10/hr. for hot, backbreaking work, but it's certainly better than minimum wage (which is what I make at the Mother's store in Berkeley).