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      November 1, 2016Tommy and GingerFrank Aredia

      They bought me a dog
      when my brother died
      and I never really understood why.
      I certainly didn’t need a dog,
      but I was happy to get it.
      The dog was a wire haired terrier
      and I named it Ginger
      because
      my mom had a dog named Ginger
      when she was a girl.
      And my dog Ginger was a wild dog and
      it was a he,
      and he liked to jump
      over the gate
      into the living room
      where he would pee on the rug.
      And my parents yelled at me
      and told me I didn’t take care of my dog,
      but I was only six years old,
      and before I turned seven
      I lost a brother named Tommy
      and a dog named Ginger.

      from Issue #15 - Summer 2001

      Frank Aredia

      “After quietly observing and taking part in the absurd realities of life for nearly 50 years, I decided to document my journey of loss, physical and emotional pain, joy, and the wonderment of it all, like not falling off the earth while it spins.”