1968 Arlington National Cemetery

My family and I went to Washington DC sometime in the late 60s.  I don't remember anything about the trip itself, just being at Arlington Cemetery.  It must have been in the summer of 1968, because Robert Kennedy's grave was not completely grown over.  

I was 21 and not quite sure where my life was headed.  I missed France terribly still and hated everything about America or New Jersey.  

When RFK was shot it just confirmed everything and showed me I was right.  

Seeing his grave brought it home somehow.  It was just a simple white cross with a grave marker.  





It was the JFK site that ripped me apart the most though, along with the eternal flame and the Custis-Lee Mansion, so fresh in my mind from the funeral.  It had only been five years since the assassination now with the new pain of RFK.





The Custis-Lee Mansion is itself a memorial.  It was once the home of Robert E. Lee.  Now it's called Arlington House, the Robert E. Lee Memorial.  It sits about the Kennedy grave sites with the flag eternally at half mast.

We had planned to find the statue that had been sculpted by Sir Moses Ezekiel, my great-great-(great?)-uncle, but we were more emotionally distraught than we had expected and didn't look very hard.  We said we'd come back.

Sculpture by Sir Moses Ezekiel at Arlington National Cemetery

Arlington Cemetery was one of the most emotional experiences I can remember, very similar to seeing Omaha Beach.  All those headstones... 

When we were driving back to the city, we looked back towards Arlington and saw the Custis-Lee Mansion and knew the graves were there.  My mother and I both erupted into a flood of sobs.  We were uncontrollable.  So of course, my sister started crying too.  My father even was very touched, I could tell, because he didn't say anything.  He didn't tell us to stop crying, because I think he couldn't talk.  It was much more overwhelming than we had expected.  I begged my dad for years to request burial at Arlington, but he always said no.  I don't know why.

Funeral Procession JFK

Arlington Memorial Bridge

Pont Alexandre III

When we had arrived, my mother and I both had commented on how the Arlington Memorial Bridge reminded us of le Pont Alexander III in Paris.  





In 1970, David and I went to Arlington when we went to the peace march.  Once again, we
looked for Sir Moses' statue, but we were on foot and it was too far away.  I was still as 
moved as ever at the graves of RFK and JFK.

1968 Jamie and the Bone

One of my nightly chores was to cut up the dog dinners.

We fed Benjamin and Jamie fresh raw meat that we got from the butcher. Every night I would cut it up into chunks, smaller for Benjamin, larger for Jamie.

I had just finished reading "Beyond Belief", the story of the Moors Murders, which was a very bloody and gruesome story.

After reading that book, I couldn't do it anymore, it made me sick.  I had to trade chores with my sister.

Big bloody meaty disgusting bone

Jamie loved big juicy meaty bloody bones.  He was only allowed to eat them outside.  He slept on my bed every night, or if he got too warm, on the floor beside my bed.  A few days after I read "Beyond Belief", I crawled into bed and my foot felt something slimy and cold.  I got back out and turned on the light and noticed my foot was covered in blood.  After I got over the shock, I threw back the covers, and shoved down at the bottom of the bed was a big, bloody slimy bone.  Jamie had found the perfect hiding place.  I have no idea how he smuggled that bone into the house.  It was disgusting.  But Jamie was really proud of himself.

1968 Jamie and the Tulips

Jamie was very fond of flowers, tulips in particular.  All along the back of our house were several rows Some of them were the black ones, which my mother prized greatly.

One day she went outside to water them and let out a shriek!   When I went running, I saw that every tulip was gone.  All the stems were there, all the leaves were there, but every flower was gone.  We couldn't imagine what had happened to them.

A few days later, I happened to notice Jamie cruising through the tulip stems.

When the next batch bloomed, I waited and sure enough, he went and bit off every tulip.

1968 Jamie, Is Too Smart Too Smart?

Jamie was such an incredibly smart dog, I decided to go beyond teaching him to roll over or shake hands.  I taught him to prepare to go to Vietnam (remember, this was in 1968).  I would say, "Jamie, are you ready to go to Vietnam?" and he would drop to his belly.


Then I would point my finger and say "bang bang" and he would roll over and play dead.  Then I would say, "Get in the mud!" and he would crawl on his belly until I told him he was done.


He was so smart he took short cuts.

At the time, I was interested in archery and had a nice bow.  My dad got me a bale of hay and we put a target on it.  I would go into the woods behind our house and shot arrows, sometimes into the target, sometimes into the woods.  Jamie would sit beside me and when I had shot all my arrows, I would tell him to "go find the arrows, Jamie".  He would take off in leaps and bounds and go find the arrows and bring them back.

One day, he decided it would make more sense to go and wait for the arrows.  As I was shooting the first one, he jumped up and galloped into the woods beside the target, early waiting for the arrow.  Fortunately, I was able to shoot the arrow in the other direction.  Apparently his plan was to catch them in midair.  I explained to him that this was probably not a good idea.

Too smart.

1968 Getting Jamie

When we moved to Bernardsville, NJ, from Paris, we had my mother’s dog, Benjamin, a beautiful golden Cocker Spaniel.  In Bernardsville, we had a huge yard and woods all around, and I wanted my own dog very badly.  My dad said I could get a dog as long as it was a "real dog", a "big dog".  So I decided to get a German Shepherd.  I admit, my dad influenced me to some extent.  As a kid he had had a 1/2 coyote-1/2 German Shepherd and he said she was the best dog he ever had.  

So my mother and I went on a GSD search.  We found my puppy about 50 miles away at the home of a GSD breeder who, it turns out, was quite well known.  At the time, I knew nothing about breeding, and even less about showing.  I just knew I wanted my puppy.  

German Shepherd puppy

When we went to see the litter, they were about 3 weeks old, too young to come home.  The breeder, Mrs. Lochner, spent a lot of time with us, explaining how the female was a German import, and about how the quality is controlled in Germany by limiting the size of the litters, etc.  The mother's side was filled with conformation and obedience champions, as well as other titles.  The dad was an American dog who was a reputable show dog.   But I didn't care; I just wanted my puppy.

There were 5 puppies, and they all came at me at once, just like in the movies.  But there was one who just seemed special to me and I chose him right away.  I was so incredibly excited, but then I realized that he wouldn't be able to come home with me, not for weeks and weeks.  That broke my heart, and my mother said maybe we should keep looking for one who was ready, but I couldn't do it.  That was my dog.

German Shepherd Puppy

So we left without him.  I called Mrs. Lochner several times a week to see how he was doing.  She said he could leave at eight weeks.  Eight weeks?  That was five weeks after I first saw him.  After two weeks of calling, Mrs. Lochner asked to speak to my dad on the phone.  When he was done, he turned to me and said, "How would you like to go get your puppy tomorrow?"   I was ecstatic.  Apparently, Mrs. Lochner decided I was responsible enough to get him so young.  She realized how much I wanted him, and what good care he would get.  There were rules that we had to follow (not going outside before shots, etc). but that was easy.  

When we finally brought him home, he was just a bundle of black and tan fur.  It was instant love.

He was already registered when I got him:

Arnim von Haus Lochner 

(Arnim of the House of Lochner)  

I named him Jamie after a character in a book called "The Well of Loneliness".