It was a dream, then a place, then a memory. My father built it near the Suwannee River. I like to think it was in the heart of Florida, because it was, and is, in my heart. Its name was Dogland. Some people say you can know others if you know the central incidents that shaped their lives. But an incident is an island in time, and to know the effect of the island on those who land there, you must know something about the river they have traveled. And I must warn you before we begin, I don't know that river well. I visit that time and place like a ghost with poor vision and little memory. I look up the river and see fog rolling in. I look down the river, and the brightness of the approaching day blinds me. I see shapes moving behind me and beyond me, but who they are and what they do, I cannot say. I will tell what I know is true, and I will invent what I believe is true, and that, I think, is all you can ask any storyteller to do. I learned the Nix family history from the stories Pa told. Even at the age of four, I suspected that Pa's stories might not be perfectly true. When Pa said we Nixes came to North America as indentured servants working our way out of debtor's prison, Grandma Bette would make a face and say he couldn't know that. When he said we Nixes had Lakota and Ojibwe blood in our veins, Grandma Bette would say she wasn't prejudiced, but it simply wasn't so: she and Pa and his brothers and sisters were dark because her people were Black Dutch, from a part of Holland where everyone had black hair and black eyes. And then Grandma Bette wouldn't say a word for half an hour or more, a very long time for Grandma Bette to be quiet. What was considered to be a dream, a place, then a memory? - Pa's stories - not enough information - Dogland - The incidents that shaped the Boxes
Dogland

(Question)
The sighting of a killer whale (or orca) can be rare, but they do love to hunt and play in the waters between Vancouver and Seattle, so one of the activities we absolutely wanted to do (in addition to the harbour seaplane flight) was to go whale watching. Just South of Vancouver, in the quaint Historic fishing village of Steveston we hopped aboard our boat, and spent the day on the water cruising the coast looking for whales, other marine mammals and seabirds. The regular chug-chug-chug of the boat motor for a couple of hours lulled me into a meditate state as we sped our way over the State line from Vancouver, back down to the waters of Washington State. The shimmer of the water all dappled in the sunlight, the slow, measured tones of our guide and snuggling into my warm jacket against the sharp breeze off the coast was just enough to make me forget my worries, and zone out from all of my modern day dilemmas. Honestly, it needs to be prescribed on the NHS. Forget hauling yoga mats and sitting in sweaty concrete rooms with patterns trying to hide the utilitarian backdrop, just hop on a boat out from Vancouver. Not having much success closer to the British Columbia shores, our captain decided to head south past the Canadian/American border. Incredibly, the resident killer whales of the San Juan Islands are the most studied whales in the world; they, in turn, have observed humans for at least six thousand years. Stable family groups, called pods, represent several generations and include grandmothers (the pod leaders), adolescents, infants, and huge bulls. Each family member is recognized by its distinctive markings and can live as long as a human. Much of what is known about the orca whale's highly-organized social life has been learned from the resident pods in the San Juan Islands of Washington. After the end of this story, the narrator is probably: - Tired - Cold - Relaxed - not enough information
(Answer)
Relaxed

Ques: My daughter was away at college preparing for her final exams and nursing boards. I knew that my daughter's cat, who has been part of our family since my daughter was in second grade, was dying of a fast growing cancer. I couldn't tell my daughter because I didn't want to upset her and take her mind off her studies and impending graduation. Once our Vet determined that there was nothing further that could be done she showed me how to give pain meds and fluids at home to keep her comfortable in hopes that she would live long enough to allow my daughter to say goodbye after her graduation. The entire week I stayed with our cat around the clock. She had completely stopped eating and drinking and was slowly dying before my eyes. She slept most of the time except when I had to put the needle in between her shoulder blades to give her fluids. Then she would cry quietly and look at me with pleading eyes. Her breathing was becoming so shallow that I had to get close to her and listen to see if she was still alive. After a week of this I began to realize that the most unselfish thing I could do for this beautiful creature was to let her go. I wrapped her in her favorite blanket and and drove her to our Vets office after they had closed for the day. She was so skinny and frail but when I held her close she still purred. I thanked her for the 14 years she had been one of my daughter's closest companions and I held her as she took her last breath. I was afraid my daughter was going to be angry with me when I told her that i made the decision with out giving her time to say goodbye. She was sad but understood that I did the kindest thing I could have done for her kitty. Where did the Mom take the cat? - To a doctor - To the vet - not enough information - To the grocery
Ans: To the vet

Question: Hmmm that's a hard one. At first I was going to say giving them daily chores, but the "reward" part of that has actually not been realized yet (what with all the eye rolling and such). So I will have to go with family dinners at the table. Sometimes, "dinner" is fast food, sometimes it is a meal I slaved over for hours - that part doesn't seem to matter. Whether we are talking about our day, learning manners, having serious discussions, or laughing until we spit our drinks - it is where grow. There have been horrible nights at the table, where we shared bad news. There have been fabulous nights where we celebrated successes and talked about exciting things to come. There have been nights where the kids can see that Mom and Dad are "at odds" and nights where they see us push that aside and joke with each other for the sake of saving the evening. When they were little, we did "About Your Day" - one funny thing, one sad thing, one new thing you learned. Now, they are all teenagers, and the conversations just seem to flow, with never enough time to fit it all in before someone has to rush off to work, to study, or to get ready for bed because we are eating "after practice". My twins will be Seniors next year, and I know that our table will look a little different from now on. But when I look at that worn oak (outdated) table, that needs refinishing in the worst way - I am grateful for the evenings there, where my kiddos learned to be a family. Don't be misled, we are not the Cleavers. We have "Fun Friday" where Mom does not get to badger them about their table manners (ugh - they revel in this), Sometimes we eat in the living room while we watch a movie, sometimes we eat in shifts because of our schedules. However, the majority of meals have been together ~ I feel like this is a gift we gave them. What is true about the narrator? - She is retired and no longer working. - She stays at home and tends to her family. - She is employed and working for a job. - not enough information
Answer:
not enough information