Dog Wars

By Tia Greenfield

Aw, a new puppy! How sweet! How precious and adorable! How wrong! Little Ozzy turns out to be the monster that destroys a family's peace and harmony. Or does he? The whole situation is so complex, and the run-up to the Dog War so fraught with complications, that it is completely unreasonable to conclude that it began with any one event not even the arrival of Ozzy on that fateful day in April. It makes no sense to see the Dog War as an isolated episode, and once it really exploded, it stirred up a lot of old feelings and memories, recollections and resentments that perhaps would have been better forgotten. The Dog War was just a scrimmage in a much larger and longer running series of conflicts. And while the history of the Dog Wars is a story of conflict, it is also a story of victory. Although it is a story of struggle, it is a story of triumph too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491821589

Tia Greenfield

Tia Greenfield was born in Boulder, Colorado, and spent her childhood there. When she was in her early teens, her family moved to Southern Oregon. After graduation from high school, she moved to San Francisco, California, and attended City College of San Francisco and the University of California at Berkeley, where she received both her Bachelor's and Master's degrees in English Language and Literature. She has three grown children: Leef, Lars, and Lyca. Currently, she resides in the Chicago area with her husband, Dennis, and teaches English at College of DuPage in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. DOG WARS is her third novel, following POW-WOW and BARTER FAIR.

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© 2014 by Tia Greenfield. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, specific locales, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance between the characters in this novel and real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/28/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2157-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2156-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2158-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013917917

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

PROLOGUE

April

What Lisa Thought

What Leah Thought

What They Think Now

BEFORE

So Sick

Moving

Signs Of Trouble

SPRING

A Puppy Is Born

First New Puppy

Ozzy Arrives

A Phone Call

Another Phone Call

Going To A Kennel

SUMMER

Lois’s Visit

Ozzy Comes Home

Leah Calls Lois

Leah Calls Lisa

Aloha Festival

Joy’s Surprise

Park And Beach Day

FALL

Fall

THANKSGIVING

Before Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Day Morning

Thanksgiving Dinner

At The Hotel

Leah Remembers Seventh Street

Lisa Remembers Seventh Street

The Day After

The Parade

Later That Evening

Reggae Dancing

Later That Night

Lisa Remembers Highland Avenue

Leah Remembers Highland Avenue

The Next Day

NEW YEAR

Lisa Arrives

Nutcracker Adopotion Party

Messages From The Universe

The Dumb Ass

Pacifica Pier

Dinner

Walking Again

What Did You Do Today?

Back In The Park

New Year’s Eve

Lisa Remembers Beekman Street

Leah Remembers Beekman Street

Linda And Wally

A New Year Begins

New Year’s Day

VALENTINE’S DAY

Valentine’s Day

MARCH

March Again

APRIL AGAIN

April Again

The End Of Her Rope

Moving Out

The Dog War Is Over

MOTHER’S DAY

Mother’s Day

AFTERMATH

Linda Calls Lisa

Almost An Apology—Finally

The Aftermath

After The Aftermath

ALTERNATE ENDING

An Alternate Ending

About the Author

For Leef, Lars, Lyca,

Cyndi, and as always, Dennis

WE ARE ALL DAMAGED CHILDREN

PROLOGUE

April

W hat is it about April? It seems to be such a popular month for starting a war. But then, as T. S. Eliot noted, April is the cruelest month.

Exactly when this particular war began depends on whom you ask. Of course, as with any war, it’s relatively easy to pinpoint a single dramatic event that comes to mark the official start for the sake of history. Just as the battle on Lexington Green, in which seventy-seven Minutemen met the forces of the British Regulars on April 19, 1775, is the recognized beginning of the American Revolution according to most history books; or as the Mexican cavalry’s attack on the vastly outnumbered U. S. patrol in contested territory on April 25, 1846, is regarded as the incident that triggered the Mexican-American War; or as the April 12 attack of Fort Sumter, South Carolina, by Confederate soldiers in 1861, is generally considered to have formally begun the Civil War; or as President Woodrow Wilson’s request for an official Declaration of War against Germany before a joint session of Congress on April 2, 1917, initiated the American entry into World War I, future historians will undoubtedly fix the arrival of Ozzy in Lois’s and Lisa’s household in Ashland, Oregon, on April 16, 2006, as the event that ignited the Dog War.

It happened like this: Lisa was in the kitchen washing up the morning dishes when the phone rang. She dried her wet hands on a tea towel, walked into the living room and answered on the third ring. It was Kerry, her niece, calling. Immediately (no chit-chat this time, which was unusual) she asked for Lois, who was in the bedroom she and Lisa shared at the time, so Lisa called to her. Phone, Mom. It’s Kerry. Lois came to the phone, and Lisa went back to the dishes. It was a short conversation, and after she had hung up, Lois came into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and leaned up against the counter.

Kerry’s on her way in from Medford. She’s bringing over my new puppy, she announced nonchalantly.

What? said Lisa incredulously.

I said Kerry’s bringing over my new puppy, Lois repeated slowly and emphatically. She’s on her way now.

Don’t we need to talk about this first? asked the completely stunned Lisa.

No, said Lois. We don’t. I’m getting a puppy.

Shouldn’t I have been consulted about this, Mom? Lisa asked. I mean, I live here too! Don’t I have any say about this?

No, said Lois. You don’t. I’m getting a new puppy.

Of course, as with any war, while in retrospect, although it’s relatively easy for historians to settle on the event, location, and date that began a war, it’s never really that simple or clear-cut. More dramatic and poetic sorts, like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, for example, celebrate the beginning of the Revolutionary War as the famous midnight ride of Paul Revere. (One if by land, two if by sea!) More political and literary types may point to the signing of the Declaration of Independence. (When in the course of human events…) And there were those early skirmishes between the British and the colonists. But, after all, a small battle or two doesn’t necessarily initiate a war.

How and why our great wars began are necessarily more complicated issues than when or where; so many circumstances and events influence and lead up to any war. And then of course who started the conflict is always a matter of opinion, and as commonly acknowledged, history is written by the winners, despite the fact that as these words relate to war, winners and losers can be seen as relatively meaningless designations.

It all depends on whom you ask.

As for the Dog War, if you asked Lisa, certainly at one time, she would definitely have said that Lois started it by getting Ozzy without any prior consultation or agreement whatsoever.

And the funny thing is that before Lois and Lisa moved in together in the fall, Lois had just gotten rid of two dogs.

Kameer, her Yorkie, had gotten so old, most of his teeth had fallen out, and his coat had grown sparse and mangy looking. Not that he had ever been really fully house trained, but he had taken to not only peeing all over inside the mobile home Lois had been living in for years, but he had also apparently decided that it was too much trouble to go outside to poop, even though Lois had a doggie door. In his defense, it must be acknowledged that his eyesight was failing, and he was developing some pretty serious arthritis, as well as diabetes. He would soon need daily injections, and although he might live for a few more years with intensive care, Lois felt she wasn’t up for the trouble and expense. He had had a good, long life, and she felt it was better to let him go when he was still more or less enjoying his life. So, in consultation with her vet, Lois decided to have him put down, rather than subject him to the stress of the move.

Kamon, her much younger Pom, who had never been fully house trained either, but was in robust health, had been given to her next-door neighbor in the mobile court, Janet Williams. She had admired the little white Pom from the day Lois got him. He’s just the cutest little thing ever! she’d call across the fence every time she saw Lois out in the yard with him. Just cute as a button! I just love that little dog! If you ever decide to get rid of him, give him to me. So Janet had been delighted when Lois had told her she was moving, and she could have him. I’ll take real good care of him, she said, and you can come visit him any time you want.

Lois just thought that it would be better to make the move into the duplex apartment she and Lisa and Lisa’s youngest, Sabrina, would be sharing with just Boots, her black and white tuxedo cat. At the time, she said that she no longer wanted the bother of taking care of a dog. So it came as a surprise to many, and especially Lisa, that Lois had decided to get a puppy.

If you asked Lois, she would say that Lisa started the trouble, that she had never dreamed that Lisa, of all people—Lisa the avid animal lover—would ever object to her bringing any animal into the household. After all, Lisa, at one time or another, has had a baby alligator, a raccoon, a monkey, a possum, a couple of hedgehogs, three ferrets, a chicken, guinea pigs, rabbits, a sugar glider, a rat, numerous hamsters and mice, a skunk, snakes, turtles, lizards, hermit crabs, even a pot-bellied pig for a short time, not to mention assorted dogs, cats, birds, and fish as pets. Just about any animal that she could have, Lisa has had, and she’s loved them all. If she could have kept an elephant in the garage, most people who know her would say, Lisa would have.

Ozzy was the first animal that Lisa ever disliked, and dislike is a very mild word for what she came to feel about that dog.

At the time of the move, the only pet she had was the evil Tafari, a big grey cat her older daughter, Samantha, had left with her when she moved to Seattle after high school. A year later, when Samantha, then pregnant, and her boyfriend had moved back to Ashland, she had refused to take Tafari back—or to pay the huge vet bill he had acquired for treatment of his feline urinary tract syndrome. He always liked you better anyway, she said. He wanted to be your cat. He’s yours now.

Tafari and Boots got along pretty well once Boots acknowledged Tafari as the undisputed boss and alpha male, which is how he thought of himself, even though he had been neutered at an early age, though perhaps not early enough. Anyway, Lois would have said that Lisa’s sudden and unexpected change in attitude toward an animal, any animal, especially her new puppy, definitely precipitated the Dog War.

At one point, not long after they had moved in together, Sabrina had asked if she could get a kitten. One of her friends had a litter to give away, and she was particularly taken with the little orange one. Lisa had told her that it was ok with her, but her grandma had to agree, that it really wouldn’t be fair to introduce a new pet into the household without everyone’s agreement. Lois had told her No! in no uncertain terms. This place is too small for three people and three cats. Actually, it’s too small for three people and two cats. Two cats are more than enough. And so, that was that.

If asked, Sabrina would probably not like to say whom she thinks is responsible for starting the Dog War. Sabrina avoids confrontation and conflict whenever she can. She’s a Pisces and prefers to swim away from trouble if it’s at all possible.

If you asked Leah, Lois’s oldest daughter, who started the Dog War, she would say it was primarily Lois, although she did blame Lisa for not standing up for herself and refusing to allow an unnegotiated pet to enter the household. You should have told Mom to call Kerry right back and tell her to turn around because any new pets brought into the household had to be agreed upon, and a new puppy had certainly not been agreed upon. And if she still showed up, you should have met her at the door and told her, ‘That puppy is not coming in here!’ You should have nipped the situation in the bud. But Mom shouldn’t have set it up without consulting you. Leah told both Lois and Lisa again and again over the long and tiring course of the Dog War that any new pets brought into the household should have been negotiated, but of course, once Kerry brought Ozzy up to Ashland and delivered him into Lois’s waiting arms, without any opposition from Lisa, that was a rather moot point.

If you asked Linda, Lois’s youngest daughter, she would say that Lisa started it all by convincing Lois to move in with her, something that never should have happened in the first place, even though it hadn’t taken any persuasion at all for Lois to make that decision. But Linda didn’t see it that way.

Lois had been saying for years that she was tired of living by herself and was beginning to feel that she needed some help with daily chores. Lois said that even after Wally, her youngest, had moved into the back bedroom in her mobile. For many years, and not without reason, it was assumed that when the time came, Lois would move in with Linda, not Lisa, and certainly not Leah. But that’s not what happened. Although Lois had often stayed with Linda for extended visits, the invitation to move in permanently never quite materialized, whereas Lisa made the offer: Let’s find a place together and combine households. Lois readily agreed, despite Leah’s misgivings and Linda’s outright objections. If Lois was going to move, Linda wanted her in a senior’s apartment closer to where she and Tom lived in White City. If Lois had done that, Linda thought, she would have been happier, and the idea of getting a puppy wouldn’t even have come up in the first place. So she blamed Lisa.

If you asked Wally, he’d say that it was both of them, that it always takes two to start a fight—or a war for that matter, and he should know—he’s a middle school biology teacher. And of course, he’s right, and most objective onlookers would agree with him.

But some would undoubtedly say that it was in fact Ozzy himself, even though he was only a puppy, who started the Dog War. There was always just something about that dog.

The Dog War, once it really exploded, stirred up a lot of old feelings and memories, recollections and resentments that perhaps would have been better forgotten. Of course Lisa and Leah have talked about all of this off and on over the years. But the more they have thought and talked about it, the more they have realized that the whole situation was so complex, and the run-up to the Dog War was so fraught with complications, that it was completely unreasonable to conclude that it began with any one event—not even the arrival of Ozzy on that fateful day in April. (What is it about April?)

They gradually came to understand that it made no sense to see the Dog War as an isolated episode in their lives. In fact, Lisa and Leah realized that what they came to refer to as Dog Wars had actually been going on for quite some time. The Dog War was just a scrimmage in a much larger and longer running series of conflicts. And while the history of the Dog Wars is a story of conflict, it is also a story of victory. Although it is a story of struggle, it is a story of triumph too.

We each have our own ideas about where we came from and where we are going—and why. When we tell ourselves and others the stories of our lives, those stories are shaped by our own unique needs and desires as we try to make sense of ourselves and our own individual experiences along the paths of our lives. As we tell and retell our stories, sometimes we are looking for answers; sometimes we are just seeking the questions to ask.

History is the collection of stories we tell ourselves about who we are and how we came to be that way; it’s how we explain who we are to ourselves. It’s very true that history creates emotional distance and involves constant revision, and attaching language to our experiences is a transforming process, in every way. When we relate the events and experiences of our lives, along with the feelings attached to them, sometimes our perceptions change, and we arrive at new and different visions of the past. Sometimes, too, we arrive at new and different understandings of ourselves. For as we engage in relating our histories, we find or create meaning in stories that change even as they unfold. And as a story changes, it changes its tellers as well. As we re-create ourselves and our lives through the telling of our personal histories, we come to understand what it is that these stories we tell want us to understand.

What Lisa Thought

F or the longest time, Lisa had thought Leah was just plain crazy. When they had talked about their childhoods, about growing up, Lisa would think, and sometimes say, Did we grow up in the same family?

Lisa believed they had wonderful childhoods and grew up with high spirits. Her memory is still packed with sunny scenes of the two of them roaming the neighborhood, especially the alleys, and playing in the field, undeveloped land that began just a block away from their house on Highland Avenue, beyond the last row of houses on Mapleton Hill, as well as exploring the hills beyond, Red Rocks, Green Rocks, even Sunshine Canyon. Her memory of her childhood was filled with so many happy feelings.

She had such fond memories of the family camping trips. When Lisa remembered the animals, the mountains, the lakes, the rivers, the forests, the meadows, the campfires, the stars at night, she felt a warm glow in her heart. She still attributes her adult love of the outdoors and camping to these joyous childhood experiences. She remains extremely grateful that their parents took them on so many camping trips when they were little.

As a child, Lisa was rarely seen without a stuffed animal tucked under an arm. She can still vividly recall so many of them: Scamper, her blue dog, of course, and her big red elephant; her skunk; her white kitty with the blue glass eyes; the monkey with big pink plastic ears, big grinning red plastic mouth, plush yellow shirt, red elastic suspenders, fuzzy black legs, and plastic white tennis shoes—and more. They were so real to her; they were her best friends and so much more fun than the dolls Leah loved because the stories she could act out with them were so fabulous. And because animals, she thought, were better than people any day. People just weren’t that interesting to her.

Lisa also loved to draw, and she was very good at it from a very early age. It came as no surprise to her (or to anyone who knew her as a child) that she grew up to be an artist. She remembers feeling that creating the pictures she made was like dreaming or watching a movie. In addition to her stuffed animals, she loved her sketch pad and her crayons more than anything else.

She was very imaginative; Lisa created fantastic storylines to play out with Leah. She liked pretending that they were Indians living a long, long time ago. She liked pretending that they were explorers, like Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett. She liked pretending that they were cowgirls with beautiful horses to ride. Or that they were the horses themselves, wild and free.

She is still thankful that as children, they were allowed so much freedom of time and place, so much opportunity to play outside, so few restrictions on where they could go and what they could do. And what limitations there were, she and Leah generally ignored without consequences anyway. And when there were consequences, all the fun they had more than made up for it. She thinks that mostly, she got to do whatever she wanted to do. She’s very grateful for all the liberty they had, and she knows it shaped her in a powerful way into the adult she became. Lisa has always felt blessed to have had the kind of childhood most kids never get to have these days.

During summer vacations, after breakfast, like pretty much all the neighborhood kids, they had been sent out to play, with instructions to come back for lunch. After lunch, they were sent out again and told to be home in time to clean up for dinner. After dinner, they had gone out to play again—until dusk. For Lisa, dinnertime was just a time in between playtimes—a time to keep quiet, lie low, hurry through, before going back out to play.

School was ok, and she made friends there easily, but she lived to play outdoors. During the school year, no matter the season, she couldn’t wait to get home, change into her play clothes, and get out of the house.

Lisa admits that maybe she’s blocked it out, but she still doesn’t remember much about being spanked, though she does recall being smacked on her behind from time to time. She thinks that when it happened, she had probably done something to deserve it. She does remember Mom saying, on occasion, You just wait til your Dad gets home and hears about this! And she does say she remembers sometimes feeing anxious about Dad coming home from work. But Lisa still thinks all of this was because that’s just the way it was back then; that’s just how kids were raised then. Sure, there were spankings, but all the kids got those. There was nothing unusual about that. It happened; it was over; forget about it, and move on. There was fun to be had.

Parents, she thought, were sort of a nuisance, though they did have their uses. Generally, she ignored them as much as possible, and didn’t mind when they ignored her. That usually just meant that she could do as she liked.

For the most part, when Lisa thinks back to her early years, what she most clearly recollects is what she loved, what she hated, how she felt.

But what’s with Lisa, that when she thinks of her childhood and growing up, it’s mostly the good times, the happy times, the fun times she recalls. Why does she seem to have forgotten so many of the bad and hard times? For sure, there were a lot of those too. But she has always said that basically, her childhood was happy and good. When she pictures herself, in her mind’s eye, as a child, she sees herself in the field, down by the stream, playing with frogs or pollywogs, climbing trees or rocks, or riding on that bouncy branch they called the horse. She’s by herself, but the feeling is joyful.

When Lisa used to think about her childhood, she thought about it in vivid colors, a happy childhood that took place under mostly sunny skies. In her mind, her childhood was all about nature, animals, fun, adventure, fantasy and magic. In the past, if she had been asked to sum up her childhood in just one word, that word would have been: FREEDOM.

But all that started to change as she came to know Leah’s version of the story of their early years and as the Dog War progressed. She’s not as sure about her recollections as she used to be. Her memories of that time have been shuffled and resorted. The bright sheen on some of them has been tarnished and the luminous colors dimmed.

Lisa now thinks that she grew up feeling that she didn’t really need or want or expect much. Or deserve much. She thinks that feeling has stayed with her all the days of her life, and that it has kept her from pursuing stuff—all sorts of stuff—that she otherwise might have liked to have or do.

What Leah Thought

F or the longest time, Leah had thought Lisa was just plain crazy. When they had talked about their childhoods, about growing up, Leah would think, and sometimes say, Did we grow up in the same family?

Leah has always had very mixed feelings about their childhoods, to say the least. She believed they had rough childhoods and grew up with damaged spirits that took them years to repair. Mostly, her memory is packed with troubling scenes and feelings of anxiety.

She has fond memories of the horses Mom and Dad had when she was very young, and she remembers being taken to so many of the rodeos and horse shows they rode in, but what she most clearly recalls is being put on a front row bench in the grandstand and being warned not to move while Mom and Dad rode in their events. She remembers feeling so conflicted, because after a while, watching got boring because all the rodeos and horse shows were pretty much the same, and she and Lisa wanted to play under the grandstand or walk around, but they knew that if they weren’t where they were supposed to be when Mom came to check on them, they would be in serious trouble. Do what they were told to do, though it was tedious and not fun? Or do what they wanted and risk harsh punishment?

It was the kind of conflict that seemed to persist throughout all her youth. So much of the pleasure she had as a kid came with a risk. The enjoyment was almost always mixed with tension, and fun often came at a cost.

Sure, she has fond memories of playing in the alleys, in the ditches, and in the field. She and Lisa spent many happy hours and even whole days there, playing in the stream and in the trees, especially on the bouncing branch they called the horse. They could pull it down, straddle it, push off, and bounce high, descend, and do it again and again and again. They never got tired of it. They climbed Red Rocks and Green Rocks and explored the surrounding hills, even ventured up into Sunshine Canyon, a place they weren’t allowed to go, but did anyway.

Of course she’s grateful that they had so much time to play outside and, as they got older, so few limitations on where they could go and what they could do. What restrictions there were, they generally ignored without consequences anyway. If Mom had ever wanted to track them down for some reason on any given day, it’s highly unlikely that she could have located them—or even known where to start looking. She’s grateful that they got to wander all over Mapleton Hill and well beyond. She’s glad they could range far and wide, as long as they showed up for meals and were home before dark.

But she thinks all of this is because Mom really just didn’t want them around and in her hair; the more they were out of the way and on their own, the better for her, and as much as Leah liked being on her own or with Lisa outside, she had also longed for a childhood filled with trips to museums and plays, ballet classes, and piano lessons.

When she got older, how she wished she could be sent away to a boarding school, preferably in Switzerland.

For Leah, dinnertime was an ordeal. She and Lisa weren’t allowed to leave the table until their plates were clean, but she was often so tense that she found it difficult to eat and picked at her food. Sometimes it took her so long to finish eating that everyone else would have finished and left the table. She’d sit there, by herself, until Mom snatched her plate off the table and told her to go on outside to play. She is happy they didn’t have to spend much time in the house, because for her, that wasn’t generally a happy place to be.

She loved school and always felt more at home there than she did at home, even though her extreme shyness prevented her from ever making many friends.

As a child, Leah was rarely seen without a book tucked under her arm. When she wasn’t reading stories, as soon as she could, she was writing her own. She was particularly fond of creating stories about faeries and elves, abandoned, lost, or run-away children and their adventures, and later when she was a bit older, about Greek and Roman goddesses, early Christians being thrown to the lions, and Beethoven. For toys, she always favored dolls over the stuffed animals Lisa so loved. They were very real for her, and dolls, she thought, could act out better stories. Plus a doll could be any kind of person she wanted her to be. (And of course, all of her dolls were girls.)

Decades later, she still vividly remembers the spankings she and Lisa received—for what she had thought at the time—and still thinks—were minor infractions of rules, and sometimes not even that—just for somehow inadvertently annoying Mom or Dad. She also definitely remembers—very clearly—the long and wide welts left on her bottom when Dad had taken off his belt and whipped her with it. She can still remember hearing him yell, God Damn it! Get over here, and I’ll blister your butt for that! She always felt that was so unjust, so wrong, and it hurt much more than her bottom.

For the most part, when Leah thinks back to her early years, what she most clearly recollects is what she thought, what she considered good or bad, what she judged to be right or wrong.

But what’s with Leah, that when she thinks of her childhood and growing up, it’s mostly the unhappy times, the hard times, the problems and troubles she recalls? Why doesn’t she remember more of the good times? Surely there were a lot of those too, but she has always said that her childhood was basically miserable and rotten. And when she sees herself, in her mind’s eye, as a child, she pictures herself in her room in the Highland Avenue house, either playing with her dolls or reading. She’s alone, and the feeling is bleak.

Although she is grateful for all the freedom they had, and she knows it shaped her in a powerful way into the adult she became, when Leah has recalled her childhood, she has pictured it in somber colors, a sad and difficult childhood that took place under ominous clouds. In her mind, her childhood was all about anxiety, loneliness, unfairness, desperation, and sometimes even despair. In the past, if Leah had been asked to sum up her childhood in just one word, that word would have been: PAIN.

But, once the Dog War erupted, after coming to know Lisa’s version of the story of their early years, she’s not as sure about her recollections as she used to be, and she will concede that she has been able to recapture some of the magic and recover some of the joy that was certainly part of that time.

Leah clearly remembers that when she was very young, she’s not sure how old, she promised herself that she would leave home as soon as she could and that she would make a good life for herself, a happy life. She promised herself that she would make it up to herself for all the bad times. And that is a promise she has kept.

What They Think Now

S o how was it really?

Is it true, as Lisa used to think, that Leah has been so overly negative that she has failed to appreciate all the truly positive aspects of her childhood? Or, as Leah used to think, is Lisa such a dreamer, such an idealizer, that she failed to register so many of the genuinely ugly parts?

Is this a version of the blind men and the elephant story? Certainly, we are all prisoners of our own blindness. And undoubtedly, we all suffer for our own ignorance.

In the past, each saw herself as the realist, and each thought the other had a distorted sense of reality. Although, it is certainly true that growing up, Leah always tended to see the proverbial glass as half empty, while Lisa consistently saw it as half full. For the longest time, Leah has had her feet on the ground, while Lisa, on the other hand, has had her head in the clouds. When they talk about their childhoods now, although for many, many years, each had thought