Category Archives: Memoriam

Jonathan Ripperger, R.I.P.

Jonathan Ripperger (1977-2022)

I met Jonathan somewhere online when he first moved to New York City around 2001. He was immediately engaging on several levels, including intellectually. We both really liked each other and became friends, reasoning that our age difference was probably too big to seriously consider dating, although we would both end up dating people with a broader age range as the years went on. The important thing is that we always remained friends.

This is the hunk I first chatted with in the early 2000’s.

When I first met him I was living in Park Slope, Brooklyn and he was on Roosevelt Island, of all places. He was originally from Iowa but moved to Chicago for a while. He worked in accounting/bookkeeping and always seemed to be advancing and making pretty good money doing payroll in the entertainment industry. At least that was the best that I could surmise. Years later he would do the bookkeeping for my own business, Ursinet. He really knew his stuff!

This was one of the first pictures I ever saw of him, which reminds me of his intellectual side.

He later informed me that he had found a roommate situation about three blocks from me in Brooklyn, which was thrilling. I don’t know if I was part of his incentive to move to that hip area, but it certainly facilitated our hanging out more and seeing each other all the time. He actually moved into the apartment immediately above the restaurant my daughter and I loved most on a quiet street, so we often met to eat there.

In NYC Jonathan center and me on the right in March 2005.

He seemed very comfortable with travel, having gone to visit his friend Chris in Ireland a number of times, and with his German language. We spent time as friends going to New Hope, Pennsylvania, hanging out in New York City and he always had interesting stories to tell, including the time when he was on a reality TV show where he dated a guy. I never got to see it, but I found his description of that date and some of the other ones he went on, very entertaining. One time in particular he told me about this guy who blogged about his excitement in anticipation of dating Jonathan and then, despite what Jonathan described as an objectively interesting and stimulating date, continued blogging almost immediately after his disappointment, seemingly for sympathy and click bait (long before that term was coined). Jonathan immediately left comments on the blog to the surprise of the blogger and then the drama ensued.

What a smile!

Jonathan visited me a few times after I moved back to California because he was good at staying in touch. He would stay with me when he visited. When he told me of his intention to move out to San Francisco himself, I was thrilled. It was great to spend time with him about once a month or so these past ten years or so. I know he really appreciated a lot about living on the West Coast and that he was professionally thriving in a city where it can be a challenge just to stay afloat. In a way, it was very flattering that he kind of moved to my area TWICE, but that’s how good a friend he was.

Looking closer at this picture today I see that he appears to be sitting on garbage bags somewhere in Europe

Unfortunately, some of his interactions with others were less than optimal. I’m sure Jonathan had plenty of drama in his life over the years. I saw him in what I considered healthy, productive relationships and some that left him emotionally drained. I know Jonathan always tried to send me information about some of the physical and mental health challenges he had. I could go back and look those articles up, but the sad point is that he ended up dying at the age of 45. I do not know the details, but the most objective description from his mother that I saw a copy of in her own writing was that he was “found dead in San Francisco” despite my last working communication with him is a claim that he was on a train back to Iowa via Chicago. I have no idea if that trip actually manifested, but his memorial services did take place in Iowa.

To make his passing so young even sadder, his older brother apparently died within ten days of him. I’m also not sure of those circumstances.

Some of the speculations about Jonathan have run amuck, with at least one person attempting to rewrite history. Fortunately, that person has very little credibility and has been blocked from communicating with me further after callously informing me of the death, which I had to research to prove to myself subsequently. Jonathan was only a few weeks past his 45th birthday when he died on October 27, 2022. There is no evidence that he intentionally committed suicide even though some may claim that.

Riding the NYC subway circa 2007.

I lost far too many good friends at a young age without much explanation, and I sometimes feel helpless. I have tried to help to a great extent (as I did with Tony Perri) as some of you (including Jonathan) witnessed, but while I don’t know exactly what went wrong here, I do know that some people genuinely cared for Jonathan and others took a hand in any level of self-destructive behavior that he may have had. My solace is that at least my home was a sanctuary and a refuge for Jonathan over the years, and I remember him telling me how safe he felt when he was in my presence. I wish he realized that he deserved that sense of safety and security all the time.

Jonathan looking suave.

Landing a Joke Well

It could happen! Once in a while, I can proudly land a perfect one. I row with the Solano Rowing Club on a whaleboat most weekends. Maybe you had to be there, but while we were putting the boat away for storage today our coxswain Alison said, “next time we’ll work on ab holds”

I retorted, “What did you call me!?”

Coxswain Alison with Becky & Karen as strokes. We often see sea lions swimming by!

An original quote from yours truly is that “laughter is the best revenge against death,” by which I mean we can laugh and that alone makes life worth living. On another macabre note, I always wished I could sleep less when one thinks that a 75-year-old person has slept away 25 years of his or her life. I’ll never forget the chill I get when I heard the antagonist in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea claim “sleep is just a slice of death.”


Now for a segue.

We recently lost the goddess of candy pants, Judy Tenuta, to fucking ovarian cancer at the age of 73 (the same age my mother was when she died of fucking ovarian cancer in 2016). I saw Judy live in New York City years ago to my glee. Riding the subway home I had to hold on to my companion because I thought I’d fall on the subway tracks I was such jelly from recalling her jokes. I’ve always gravitated toward funny women, which partly explains my Streisand fandom, but Judy’s wit will be so uniquely missed. I went out and ordered her books and whatever else I could find on her but I always searched for her online to see what she was up to. I recently read her first book on the plane to Hawaii and quickly started using her quips with my husband on vacation. I still believe Judy was very underrated.

Fortunately, Judy was sometimes on the Stephanie Miller Show to talk about not just politics in her special way, but also her attempt to KICK CANCER’S ASS. I do listen to Stephanie Miller every morning on FreeSpeechTV and encourage everyone to join in. Stephanie spoke at Judy’s celebration of life recently. Through the last several years of SCOTUS packing and general mayhem in American federal politics, comedy like Stephanie’s and Judy’s has kept me sane.

“Is anybody hearing this? I feel like I’m taking CRAZY pills!” — Will Farrell

Catalan Magazine article about my parents

A woman in Catalonia wrote me to ask for permission to do a story on my parents, who I mention on my blog lived in the northern part of Catalonia near Girona and the French border. Our entire family lived there but my siblings were so young that they do not have as clear memories as I do. I know the picture of my parents featured in the article was one cherished by my mom. On this same cement slab is where I learned how to ride a bike. We lived there from 1975-1977, when we moved to live on base in New York City on Governor’s Island. I remember celebrating the American Bicentennial on base in Spain. It was quite a culture shock to move to NYC. The article is written in Catalan, a Latin-based language of the region of Spain where we lived.

Here is the original photo:

Enjoy!

Foster Poopsie R.I.P.

This is hard to talk about because it ended so tragically. Shando and I fostered this gorgeous puppy (not the guest dog named Cookie, who is having a moment), for about a week.

When we got Poopsie, I thought it was really cute because that’s the pet name that my grandfather had for my grandmother, although if we would have kept him, he would have been called Iggy.

We almost immediately found a home nearby where we knew he would be treated well, but unfortunately, while they were out walking Poopsie, a vicious dog in the neighborhood, who was being dog-sat, got off leash and attacked and killed Poopsie (who had been renamed). It was traumatic for our neighborhood and many of us rushed to the scene with the screams, which also threw Poopsie’s new mom to the ground and injured her. I could not believe my eyes and openly sobbed when our vet, who had rushed over, could not resuscitate him. Life is so short and can be so unfair. This is probably the only footage we have of him, which I was glad to find.

In Memoriam of Peanut Hayden fka Koa

We only had Peanut for about five months. He came to us as a foster in January at age 13 as his previous family moved away and said they could not take him. We determined there was something wrong with his health, which perhaps the family who had abandoned him was aware of. We took him for X-rays, but what it ultimately turned out to be was advanced kidney failure. After several months of his only being slightly unbalanced with his equilibrium, he deteriorated and could not gain weight. We tried to get encourage his appetite in so many ways, but his poor little body just wasn’t cooperating.

Peanut was super affectionate and bonded with me very quickly. As a chihuahua-dachshund mix, he did remind me of my Tucker. We knew almost immediately that he would not just be a foster once I saw that handsome face and his attentive eyes. I know he felt loved. He very rarely barked, but he had a very deep voice when he did. He loved car rides and being near me. He loved meeting new dogs and would shadow them until the novelty wore off. I’m so glad we had him in our family, even if it was for just a short period.

Disjointed Montage:

Bella Darby Hayden, R.I.P.

Bella was approaching her 16th birthday. We lost her father Tucker last year as he was approaching his own 16th. Shando had the father and daughter team of Isabella Dachshunds with his ex since they were puppies, so her death brought the end of an era. They probably never dreamed they would join a household with two Yorkies and then eventually a PomChi.

Bella and Tucker had been living with Shando’s ex in the Sacramento area for three years when Shando and I got together in 2014. Shortly thereafter they joined our household permanently. We’re happy they lived long canine lives and got to travel a lot with us.

Bella was quite frail as a senior with her continued weight loss because she had been overweight much of her adult life. At first we hoped the weight loss she had foretold of more longevity than her father, who was really overweight until he died. The last few days we just could not get her to eat or drink, even though we could tell she wanted to.

She was particularly protective and close with Shando, while Tucker was my “side-arm” and flank for years. Often when people would reach to hug Shando if Bella was in her arms, she’d go into fight mode, so she definitely had cranky moments and a few fights with our female Yorkie Capulet over the years. Bella was also an incredible mouser and general hunter of rodents, as makes sense with the breeding of doxies.

Make sure to check out some of the videos and pictures of her, especially her passion for chasing waves at the beach. She was always in the “zone” and would not focus on anything else when she was there.

Bella Dreams with Tongue

Bella the Beard-rubber

Post-Op Bella (dental and mole removal)

Bella Makes a run for it at Montara Beach

Tucker and Bella (Dad and Daughter)

Tucker and Bella’s first time at Point Isabel

Bella’s ashes join her father’s on our mantle.

Tucker Tribute

I know I’ve blogged about how special my little buddy was, but I wanted to share the way I’ve memorialized him for now in our home. Someone wisely suggested I put his ashes on the mantle, but I wanted some kind of three-dimensional representation of him. I was able to find this likeness of him which I really cherish. I see his memorial every day and it reminds me of the friend I had flanking me every day for years.

A while back, though, I had ordered this dachshund planter. I’ve always tried to keep at least something growing in it, and it did always remind me mostly of Tucker. I even thought for a while that I would put his ashes in this and keep something alive in it, but then I decided against that. Recently I noticed a ladybug climbing on the planter, which I was thought was kind of touching, so I took some videos and pictures and I think they make for another good memory of the joy he brought me.

Greatest God-Mother

Growing up I always considered Zia Carla an aunt. Our families were so close and her story was so similar to my mother’s.

Carolina Fodero grew up in Catanzaro, Italy and, like my mom, met an American Coast Guard man named Bill in Calabria, moved all over the place after they got married together. Both had two sons, the first of which was named Joe. Both families lived on the Coast Guard base on Governor’s Island, New York, in southern California, and also in the San Francisco East Bay, where both families ended up settling.

I was always the lucky one because my brother and sister hardly knew their god-parents. Mine was more of a godmother to us all. Over the years my mom and Carla spoke constantly. Even when their ability to visit each other was limited, I tried to drive my mom to Carla’s house for regular visits. It was really tough on Carla when my Mom died from ovarian cancer five years ago. I honestly think Carla was closer to my mom than some of her own siblings back in Italy.

Before and after my mom died I regularly took my daughter to visit Carla and of course I had gone with my ex-wife, which I later found out was pregnant with our daughter in these pictures at Carla’s house. I even took a few of my boyfriends over the years. At first, I was hesitant to introduce them to Carla because I knew she was very pious, but that was silly of me. She always embraced them without hesitation and it made me cry when she told them to “TAKE CARE OF MY GOD-SON!” What a woman!

While she actually survived Covid, she was yet another cancer victim (a sad further similarity to my mom), which makes me all the more determined to learn and fight for health equity, diminish carcinogens and try to encourage others to live healthier lives. I do believe we can all be living longer and better quality lives if we can use science to fight the toxins in our environment. I’m just so glad we had so many good years with someone who had an outspoken heart about her passions.

My husband Shando was, fortunately, able to spend a number of trips with Carla, and before Covid, Carla had some medical issues that had her in nursing facilities that happened to be very close to where I worked. I cherish the chances I had to visit her and I even took some video of Carla saying hello to my family in Italy. This was in 2019, so before Covid:

I was so happy to speak Italian with her as she was continuously surprised how much of it I still spoke. I think it was also a good exercise for her mind to speak both languages. I know it is for mine.

I cherish the pictures I have with her through the years. Here are some of them spanning from the 1960s (at my actual baptism where she is holding me) until just a few years ago:

RIP Tucker (2005-2021)

Tucker had some health struggles this past week and he died around 4a.m. Pacific on April 18, 2021. He would have been 16 on May 7.

To be clear, I love all my dogs, but Tucker bonded to me like no other dog in my life. It wasn’t just like losing a dog, because I had become the focus of his world. He not only followed me from room to room, he always had to have a watch on me when possible, even after he lost an eye to glaucoma, was partially blind due to a cataract, and became deaf. Even more, he would do whatever he could — including perilously jumping in his younger days — to get next to me and become an almost permanent thigh flank when I was on the couch. He wasn’t just near me to be close to food. He was just home and most content to be next to me at all times I eventually realized.

I already had a boy and girl Yorkie when Shando and I got together in 2014. Soon after we got together, Shando got a call from his ex, with whom he had originally adopted Tucker and daughter, Bella. Shando’s ex had taken care of them for three years in the Central Valley and at that time could not. We agreed to take them for a few weeks; that was seven years ago.

Without any prompting, Tucker just started gravitating toward me and looking at me so lovingly. I don’t think I deserved it, but it was most endearing. I kept noticing that he would consistently leap out of other people’s arms (even Shando’s) just to get back to me as if I was the only human that mattered.

Home memorial for Tucker:

Tucker became less ambulatory this last year, even though we moved to a more dog-friendly house with fewer steps. He loved me holding him like a baby in the sun. I usually tried to protect his remaining eye with my own shadow, or turn him around so that he could feel the warm sun on his almost bald skin. The last few months we did a lot of that while birds flew in and out of the yard and the fountains dripped. There are certainly no regrets there.

Taking care of him recently did involve picking him up and putting him down. We no longer trusted him to go up the doggie stairs himself without injury, as his equilibrium was no longer the same. When he would wander the house we usually adorned him with male dog diapers in case he would pee with his head out the magnetic screen (thinking he was outside) when his piss stream was still inside the doorway. Poor guy thought he was house-trained, but not perfectly. That’s the peril of having a geriatric male elongated wiener dog/Dachshund I suppose.

Just a few weeks ago when I was not wearing socks, I was actually pretty annoyed with him that every moment I was not paying enough attention to him, he would incessantly lick my ankles to garner a response from me. I’m going to miss that now.

We made the right decision during Covid, difficult as it was, not to hospitalize him. He likely would have died among strangers, with tubes in him, and we probably wouldn’t have been able to see him again. Instead, the vet gave him pain meds to relax him one more night while we contemplated the best path forward. That night he died in his sleep between Shando and me. I woke up numerous times and heard him breathing somewhat heavily, but at some point I realized the top half of his body was already cold and his breathing had stopped completely. He looked so peaceful getting sleep in a choice location between his daddies. He was flanking me until the end, as it should have been. The vet had said he had such a strong heart he would have otherwise lived to twenty, but my little trooper is now out of all of his discomfort and pain.

Tucker made a huge impression on the last seven years of my life. I’m so glad we have innumerable pictures and video footage of him and the other dogs, including vacations we took with them to various vacation rentals, countless trips to the parks, lakes, ocean, and just around the house and backyard. I notice now that even when we were in unfamiliar locations, he was not one to run far from me and was almost always underfoot.

Indeed, over the past year, many have come to recognize him as the dog sleeping on my chest during Zoom meetings. So many commented on how zen he looked just laying there. Only Tucker cherished being held like a baby for extended periods of time. I don’t think any of our other dogs would tolerate or appreciate that. I surely will miss his weight on me and the warmth of his little body. Shando always mused about getting a pot-bellied pig as a pet, but I reminded him regularly that we had our pot-bellied Tucker.

Bella was with him her whole life. She looks a lot like him, but they have very different personalities. Bella did lick him a lot the night before he died, but that was common. I don’t know if she was able to pick up on the fact that he was dead the next morning when we let her sniff him, but she will surely notice he’s not there to cuddle with him in yin and yang formation next to my home office desk as they did most days. It’s frustrating that I can’t explain to her that her life will never be quite the same. Mine won’t either.

April 2021 – Tucker and me a few weeks before he died..

For the longest time, most people on Zoom remembered me like this (with Tucker):

My flanking Zoom buddy and me, who I will miss.

Bittersweet Milestone

Today is a sad four-year anniversary of Mom dying much too soon, made bittersweet because we are only a few days before we buy our dream house here in California. I know she wanted a better life for all of her kids, even though her scrimping still has not yielded that. Indeed, it has been squandered by one she trusted and we are still fighting to make her dream manifest. What’s made me more melancholy the last few days is the realization that had she lived, this house would have afforded an ideal situation for her to have her own independent place on the property. Sadly, there is no reason for me to think about such a prospect, because I no longer have a mother that I can take care of, as we did the last few months of her life when she was taken by a particularly insidious form of cancer.