That dog

Jon Stewart brought me to tears last night. It wasn't because he was talking about some atrocity happening in the world, a celebrity who died tragically too young, or recounting that scene from Forest Gump where Forest asks Jenny if his son is smart or if he's like him.

Nope. Jon Stewart brought me to tears talking about his dog, Dipper, who he'd lost the day before taping last night's Daily Show. As you can see in the video, he can barely get through telling us about how he met Dipper, how he came to be his dog and how much he meant to him and his family.

For Stewart, Dipper was that dog.

Anyone who's ever had a dog, whether they admit it or not, on some level understands the deal they're making from the start—that they're going to be with us for far too short a time, during which they'll steal your heart and never, ever give it back.

And anyone who's lost a dog understands how deep the grief runs. I've been through it with dogs I've loved too many times. Even now, they're always in my orbit, and my life. My home is emptier without them, and my life is immeasurably better in every way for them having been here.

Except for the shedding. I could do without the shedding.

In the clip, Stewart wishes we all find that dog. For me, it was Max. An actual German long-hair German Shepherd, Max was the world's greatest dog. Literally not a day goes by I don't miss him.

Maybe that's because his ashes are still sitting on mantle. Who's to say?

It's been said before but I'm going to say it again: with their unconditional love, unlimited joy and undeniable loyalty, we don't deserve dogs. We just don't.

Anyway, tonight I hope Dipper is playing hard with his new best friend Max.

And like Jon Stewart, my wish for you is that you're lucky enough and blessed enough in your life to find that dog.

Remains of the day

Shrink wrapped, pine box, paw print in clay and a Forget Me Not card on top, Max came home today. It's safe to say just not in the way we'd all hoped.

When I went to our vet to pick up Max's remains, there was a lobby full of anxious pet owners waiting to see the doctors. I can only imagine me walking out with a pine box filled with the ashes of a 90 lb. German Shepherd was not a confidence builder.

We're all moving forward, but slowly. His empty crate with the thick mattress pad still sits in the corner of our living room. While it would take about one minute to collapse it and put it away, no one seems quite ready to do it yet. We're still grieving the loss, and I imagine the same will be true with his remains.

We have this nice notion of spreading his ashes around the yard where he loved to play and hang out, saying a few words, shedding a few tears and then moving on. But the truth is not a day goes by where the conversation doesn't turn to Max, and we get a little weepy.

So like disassembling his crate, it's going to take a while for us to work up to the finality of spreading his ashes and saying goodbye for the last time.

Strange as it sounds, it is nice to have him home. And I think Max, being the fun-loving playful guy he always was, would appreciate what I've said to his remains several times since they've been here.

"Max, stay."

Get back

© Universal Pictures

I overheard a conversation, well, okay, I was eavesdropping on this conversation between a couple of businessmen-at-lunch-wearing-yellow-power-ties today. I feel sorry for anyone who has to wear a starched shirt and a tie on a 93 degree day.

But then I remembered that this is America damn it, and we all can make our own choices. Then I didn't feel sorry anymore. I just felt sad for their poor weather-related fashion choices.

Anyway, the part of their chat that caught my ear was when one of them said, "If I could go back twenty years I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't want to live through those years again."

It struck me as strange, because if you tell me I can go back twenty years, I'm saying, "What time do we leave?"

Of course the one caveat I have is that whole "If I knew then what I know now..." thing. I'd have to be able to take back everything I've learned in the back twenty.

For starters, Apple stock at 1994 prices. And lots of it.

Same for homes. And lots of 'em.

I'd lock up long-term CD bank accounts for as many years as I could.

I'd eat better and exercise more (well, it sounds good).

I'd buy up that run down warehouse district, and develop it. If you gentrify it they will come.

Finally, I'd be nicer to the people I knew I was going to lose. I'd make a point of spending more time with them. I'd make their lives easier in any way I could, knowing full well what the road ahead held for them. I'd be less cynical around them, despite how often it's required - they don't need the negativity. I'd steer them towards the personal habits and medical studies that might help prolong their lives, if only for a short while.

And I'd write down all my memories of them. The little turns of phrase, or crooked smiles or knowing looks exchanged. It would be a detailed journal that would keep them vividly alive for me, even after they'd departed twenty years on.

I'd also love them more. I'd be demonstrative and free with it. I'd let them know as often as I could. And when they looked at me with that "Who the hell are you?" expression, and asked why the love fest, I'd tell them the one bit of wisdom that I brought back with me from the future.

Life's too short.

Guilty pleasures Part 6: Peggy Sue Got Married

Welcome to the sixth installment of my Guilty Pleasures series. I don't know if you happened to catch posts 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5. But if not, now's the perfect time to hop on board. Go ahead and read them. I'll wait.

Done? Okay. Good. Let's light this candle.

As an only child of older Jewish parents, a blog series called Guilty Pleasures could apply to a wide variety of things. Anything from a grilled ham and cheese sandwich to a Phillip Roth novel. But this series is about movies.

And the movie this post is about is Peggy Sue Got Married.

It's the story of a girl named Peggy Sue who goes back in time to when she was in high school. She gets the chance to map out a different course for her life, speak to long-departed relatives and change the future for people she likes. For example, she advises one friend, the nerdy Richard Norvik played by Barry Miller, to buy Apple stock in the future (later on in the movie, Richard is the one friend she confides to about her time travel).

Nic Cage plays her husband Charlie, and he's also the reason many people hated the movie. One acting choice he made was to play the character in a really high, nasally, whiny voice. Like Chandler's girlfriend on Friends except without the accent. Another was to wear fake teeth that were gigantic and white like Mr. Ed's.

In high school, Charlie has dreams of being a singer like Dion, even auditioning for a musical agent without telling anyone. But since Peggy comes from the future, she knows his destiny is to be the "Crazy Eddie" of his time, famous not for his singing but for his loud, corny and sad television commercials.

While back in time, Peggy meets Michael Fitzsimmons, played by Kevin J. O'Connor, a kind of beat poet character who represents all the wildness and freedom her life hasn't given her. But during her time in the past, even though there are problems, she remembers what it first was about Charlie that made her fall in love with him.

The premise of the movie - going back - is something I'm strongly drawn to. There's a point in the film where Peggy answers a phone, and it's her grandmother. It takes her breath away, because her grandma has been gone for years. It resonates (apologies for using a marketing word) strongly with me. It's not hard to figure out why. There are a lot of people - my parents, my grandparents and too many friends - that I'd give anything to talk to one more time.

Whether it's a film called Creator with Peter O'Toole where he played a college professor trying to clone his departed wife, or the departed Jor-el telling Superman what he'll mean to the people of Earth, the idea of going back, having one more chance to say what needs to be said, is a powerful one for me.

If you look closely, you'll see Peggy Sue Got Married also has more than a few recognizable faces in supporting roles, including Jim Carrey, Catherine Hicks, Joan Allen, Maureen O' Sullivan, Helen Hunt, Marshall Crenshaw and Sofia Coppola.

The movie was directed by Francis Ford Coppola long after The Godfather, Rumble Fish and The Conversation. It's fair to say Peggy Sue Got Married is considered one of his most inconsequential efforts.

Unless you've ever had a dream, lost a loved one or wanted a second chance.

Telling right from wrong

There's a way of judging work many creatives share. Let me explain it in the simplest way I know how: if the account people don't like it, it must be good.

This may seem like a contrarian way to evaluate work, but more often than not it's more accurate than the Hadron Collider (timely reference: you're welcome). And it's been especially on the money with my most recent gig.

Working in the glamorous world of direct (which my pal Janice so succinctly calls "a legacy of garbage"), my partner and I developed several emails and direct mail pieces for the client. When we presented to the deciders at the agency, the ones they absolutely hated were the ones we loved. To their credit, they presented them to the client, although I believe just as straw dogs to sell against.

You know how this story ends.

The client loved the ones we did. And now the account people are tripping over themselves saying how great they were, and implying they were their choices the whole time.

If you're doing work that doesn't scare or make anyone nervous, no matter what media form it takes, it's not worth doing.

It'll always be an uphill battle. But if you can get it in front of the client, more often than not they'll help you win it.