Bethlehem's Child

R.I.P

I had two funerals this week. Two elderly sisters in the ward died last Friday. They weren't even that close to the top of the list. There are about 30 people in the ward over the age of 80. Three of those are sisters who really could go any day. We hadn't had a funeral since Richard Seiger's in March. I thought we were on a roll. I made a deal with the Lord that any more funerals this year had to take place on Saturday so I wouldn't have to adjust my time off schedule. So with annual reviews this week, I had to come in early to make up the time. I got an email early last Friday that Elva Werner died. On my way home from work I stopped by to meet with Glen. Then 11:30 that night Lorin Simper called to tell me that Viola had died.

The funeral today was very nice. There was a sweet spirit there, almost like our ward conference last year. We managed to start almost on time. It is nearly impossible to finish the viewing in a timely manner so that the family prayer can begin when it needs to. People think they can show up at 15 minutes to the hour and get through the line and there won't be any delay. Also the service ended almost exactly on the hour.

My remarks focused on the sister's service to the ward. She was the Cub Scout den leader up to the very end. I hope I'm still attending my meetings at age 84. I told them I needed to point them to Christ. But, it wasn't a big stretch from this sister's example to Christ. I Spoke briefly on Christ as the Bread of life and quoted the text of the Bach song "Bread of the World." And then I ended with the idea that our sorrow now at her departure is overshadowed by the joy of the reunion on the other side as she is received into the arms of a loving Father in Heaven. There were also two musical highlights: One of the sons is in the Tab choir and he had his quartet sing "Consider the Lillies." It was simply marvelous. Also, a granddaughter played an original composition "Brother Joseph" that was just great. I really want to get a copy of the music.

Vi and Lorin were eight days shy of their 60 year anniversary. At least two of the musical numbers had been planned for that party. But, were used for the funeral instead.

Lenore wasn't able to attend because Laney and her class were singing a Christmas program at the Mall. I thought the performance was at exactly the same time. But, about 10 minutes before the end of the service I got a text message from Ailsa asking if I was going to be able to make it. When the service was over I responded asking if they had started yet. I managed to get there only about 30 seconds after it started. So it was very fun to be able to watch her program. At first she was crying because her Santa had broken. But, before long she had settled down. It was a touching treat to be able to make that program as well, another tender mercy. Thank goodness for text messaging and cell phones.

The Way the Tookie Crumbles

In the seventh grade our advanced placement civics type class participated in an exercise called "Womertopia." We played legislature for weeks on end presenting bills, debating them (this is what I mostly remember.) And I guess we eventually voted on them. The main thing I remember about the debate was that it seemed to be me against the rest of the class. On all of the hot button issues, especially Abortion and the Death Penalty I felt like the only person holding forth on the conservative view. I think this is part of the problem with conservatives. I probably wasn't the only one with my views. But, I was one of the few willing to argue for them publicly. Remember this was smack dab in the middle of very conservative Orange County in the early 70's. I re-lived a lot of this last night listening to those pleading for the life of "Tookie" Williams.

These are the arguments for sparing Tookie:

1. Killing is wrong. The Bible prohibits it;

2. The trial wasn't fair. He's really innocent; and

3. He is reformed and can do a lot of good if allowed to live.

Rebuttal:

1. Liberals love to throw the Bible back at us. But, if they knew it well they would realize that the law of Moses established the death penalty for infractions perhaps quite a bit more minor than murder, such as transgressing the law of the Sabbath. So with that in mind, what does the Bible mean when it says "Thou shalt not kill?"

2. Tookie's supporters have been assailing the trial with every weapon available for 25 years. It has stood up to numerous reviews and appeals, even at the hands of the Ninth Circuit Court. Second guessing the Judicial system can only go so far. As far as I'm concerned it went about 24 years too far. When OJ was acquitted they loved to say Justice was served and OJ's detractors had to live with it. Doesn't that idea apply now too?

3. Let's apply this argument to the practice of abortion.

It is not retribution. It is Justice.

Mr. Sharpton said that many would-be gang members would be drawn to a better life it Tookie were spared, they would want to work with the system. I don't think that is how gang members think. In the words of Inigo Montoya "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

Liberals say that deterrence doesn't work. It absolutely does. Tookie will never kill again.

Liberals see it as "hateful" to execute a killer. It really isn't done out of hate. But, rather justice. Is it not more hateful to kill an innocent unborn child through abortion?

I think the only fair argument for sparing Tookie is the he should have had swift justice.

Jensen's Latest: "Saturn"

NAMCLA

You may remember the account below about Laney licking Maxine. I was awakened early this morning by Tommy grooming the back of my head. At first I thought he was just very close to me and was getting my head while licking himself on the follow through. But, after awhile it was apparent he was licking only me and was doing it on purpose. I tried to thank him gracefully and encourage him to stop so I could get back to sleep. He obliged. So I smelled like tuna cat lick until I was able to take a shower in the morning.

Parker Poseurs

We just spent a wonderful three days at Kim and Ed's house at the Colorado River near Parker Arizona. I am about six pounds heavier.

We had a heck of a time trying to leave Murray Tuesday night 22 Nov. I took a vacation day on Weds so we initially planned on leaving right after I got home from work. But, Ailsa had to work until 9:30pm. So, I set up some bishopric stuff since I was kinda behind. One of my appointments apparently didn't show. So, I left early to go gas up the Blue car. Lenore called me and told me I needed to go back. I met with a sister for about 45 minutes, during that time I must have had five or six phone calls. I think there were two or three more when I got home.

We picked up Ailsa about 9:50 and headed out. Only a couple of hours into the drive I was falling asleep so we stopped in Fillmore to pick up some goodies and a Mountain Dew. There was very little traffic for our whole trip down to Parker. The price of gas in Needles was $3 so we bought it in Parker for $2.15.

We weren't having our Thanksgiving meal until Friday because Sean and Tamsyn were arriving then. So, Thursday I went for a bike ride. I thought it would be a good chance to see the difference between my top condition and probably my lowest. It has been two months since I rode. The Ehrenburgh road is very flat and you can go a long way without stopping. I was pushing hard and not really loving it. So, I decided to limit myself to 20 miles. I reached 10 miles and turned around at 32 minutes. And I reached 20 miles at 1:04:00. So it must be pretty flat.

When I got back I sat on the dock and repeatedly helped Laney get in the water. She would swim to the beach, drifting slightly downstream, climb out and come back around to the dock. The water was very cold, probably no more than 55-60 degrees. During the winter they tend to let less water through the Parker Dam. So the level starts out quite low in the morning and then reaches an okay level in the evening. During the Summer late in the day the flow is quite strong and we have nightmares of somebody's kid getting in the water and drifting down to the Gulf of California before we realize it.

I didn't ride anymore because I am a fat lazy slob. We went shooting three of the days. We used the 32 caliber semi-automatic pistol that belonged to J.C. Lillywhite and the 22 revolver that belonged to Boone Wade (and perhaps even his father) and also a couple of 22 rifles. We probably went through a couple thousand rounds and shot up everything we could find including the kitchen sink. Well, actually a bathroom sink. I shot the drain out of it at 75 yards (after many attempts). We let Laney shoot the revolver and one of the rifles. When the clip on the rifle emptied she said, "I need more bullets."

On Thursday we had Prime Rib that was very good and throughout the weekend we had more food at our disposal than we really needed.

The drive back (stopping for the night chez Puggas in St. George) was relatively uneventful. But, there was a lot of Thanksgiving return traffic and a lot of people camping out in the passing lane.

Boy Band Redux

Our Stake had a dance/concert event Friday night with the Joe Muscolino Band. We did the same thing a couple of years ago and it was mildly popular and sort of fun, mainly because the band was entertaining. I wasn't really enthused about going and neither was Jensen.

Shortly after we got there Jensen said she thought the singer looked like one of the guys from "Sons of Provo." We were clear across the hall from them so I couldn't tell. I went in for a closer look. It seemed it was either him or his brother.

So at the next break we cornered him out in the hall and talked for about 15 minute. It was Danny Taresevich. In the movie it was fairly easy for me to pick him out as probably the strongest voice. He does a great job with the Joe Muscolino Band. Lots of stage presence and a great voice with a great range. He was also very friendly and down to earth to talk to. Now when I listen to the SOP soundtrack I can tell that he does most of the prominent vocals.

Post 911 Stress?

We saw "War of the Worlds" with Tom Cruise over the weekend. I can't say it hit on all cylinders. But, it was okay. I think it especially did a good job of conveying the "nightmare." I had a bit of a flashback during the first scene where the tripod is attacking in Brooklyn(??) I've had a few dreams in the last couple of years where end of the world events are clearly taking place. One of these occurred within the last week or two. A volcano was exploding and chunks of rock started falling out of the sky. Of course, they kept getting nearer and nearer to where I was until one huge piece came extremely close.

A couple of years ago I had a dream where airplanes started falling out of the sky in the same manner, getting ever closer to killing me and the people with me.

Several months after 911 WSJ columnist Peggy Noonan said that she had heard a lot of stories of dreams and spiritual experiences connected with 911. She asked people to write in to her about their experiences because she thinking of compiling a book on them. I wrote her about a dream I had probably less than a week or two at the most prior to 911.

The setting of the dream was Florence Italy (where I have never been but, in retrospect I think was meant to represent the seat of the "Empire".) We were visiting some acquaintances of mine from my mission. Again, I don't know anyone in Florence. I ventured out of the apartment which was right on Piazza San Marco (which is dumb because Piazza San Marco is in Venice.) There were lots of people milling around. All of a sudden there was a loud report and I turned to see some smoke and dust issuing from high on one of the corner towers of a very large palazzo that surrounded the piazza. This palazzo was immense in scale. Shortly after this "report" the palazzo started to crumble and everyone started scrambling to safety. I ran with Lenore and turned into a side street where we sought shelter in a doorway. At this point I awoke from the dream.

I Forgive You

I'm not a huge fan of the "Mormon" movie genre. There have been some good ones: Saints and Soldiers was great, on par I think with just about anything Hollywood has done recently. Brigham City and Best Two Years were quite good. Most of the others have been entertaining enough. But, they still usually showed an amateurish side. No problem I can cut them some slack.

Some stars have emerged from this effort. Corbin Allred is a great actor. But, that is evident even without his performance in Saints and Soldiers. I really like Kirby Heyborne (his accent in Saints and Soldiers first struck me as odd. But, I like it now.) and I'm still rooting for Richard Dutcher and Heather Beers. Ms. Beers is beautiful enough to make watching Baptists at our Barbecue tolerable. But, there were a couple too many slow ponderous pans of her that shouted "omygosh, she's soo beautiful, do you want to see her again?" She was in our ward about 10 years ago and I have to say I like the new lightened and frosted hair. Although I wouldn't have guessed that it would work so well.

I had seen trailers for Sons of Provo that made me want to see it. But, then I heard critiques and reviews that made me doubt. So I was ambivalent at best when any opportunity arose. My in laws bought the DVD and we watched it recently. Now, This is not a great movie. It may not even be that good. But, It works pretty well for me. We didn't necessarily laugh out loud. But, did a lot of giggling. There are some gags still that are a little over the top, not subtle enough. This problem will probably plague the "Mormon" genre for some time. But, the music and the Boy Band performances were spot on. I still don't love Will Swenson as an actor. But, the music that he and Jenny Frogley wrote is crammed with talent. They could have written for any of the Boy Bands. Vocally all three leads are very strong. To my ear Danny Tarasevich may have the best voice in the group, which is saying something.

The scene our family liked the best was the one with the girl (Rachel Emmers) who was "confused" at the rap music. She did a fantastic job. I also liked Kirby serenading on guitar under the moonlight when their manager pulls out her trombone to accompany him and the device of having the boys riding bicycles in "Spirichal As Me" and changing their pedaling tempo when the music does.

Jensen's Sketch of "Sifu"

Come sweet slumber enshroud me in thy purple cloak...Hmmm...Doesn't even rhyme.

Laney had no problem sleeping in her own bed until she turned four and gave up her ciuccio. Now she finds her way into our bed at least 50% of the time. I know this is a great evil. I've been warned by other parents (including my own parents) that this behavior leads to all sorts of personality disorders and crooked teeth and that you have to "show her who's boss," "put your foot down" and "nip it in the bud." Well, the "bud" window of opportunity is long past. It's clear that neither Lenore nor I am the boss of the house. Remember, I'm just the boss of the garden on weekends and holidays.

She seems unable to fall asleep if there is any activity going on in the house. So, typically, we go to bed with her in between us. Fortunately, she tends to fall asleep quickly. The best method for transporting her to her own bed is to move her onto her favorite mint green silky polyester fabric blanket and then carry her like a small hammock into her room. She's getting big though and it's harder and harder to carry very flat. She doesn't seem to mind. She has never awakened using this method once I've gotten her into the blanket. Occasionally, she will rouse and the coherent parts of her speech are hey! or wait! and then we just have to give her a couple more minutes before she is really out. It's funny how agreeable and cooperative she is when she is sleeping. The other night I was carrying her into her room (hammock style) and I banged her head on her doorknob really hard. Not a stir. I could just see her finding a bump on her head in the middle of the day and wondering where it came from.

Often she will not make it through the night without waking. And when she does she comes back to our bed. She is not good company in bed. She flails and takes up more room than a 5 year old ought to. She gets hot (and makes everyone else hot) and then kicks off the covers. She also grinds her teeth. Between her and the new cat our mornings can start fairly early.

Matthew 19: 14

Laney drew this in church not too long ago. We like her style.

Jensen's Latest Art Assignment

Comments on MeridianMagazine.com

Click on the link in the title above. Scroll down. Look for my name. This is the original column that I commented on.

Comments below:

I see this as a big problem. Our culture is cultivating these perpetual teenagers. I was astounded that this fellow's father (who is obviously old enough to consider a "senior" mission) is so involved in computer games.

I expect there may be sins/habits/addictions that the husband may still be hiding from his wife. Or, possibly he realizes that if he gives himself over to the Lord, he may end up in a "serious" calling that requires an awful lot of someone, like Bishop. I actually had someone admit this to me yesterday.

Are we somehow giving people the idea that it isn't a joy to serve in "serious" callings? Are we somehow letting them believe that they don't have to develop their full potential?

Women are often so eager to have the whole spiritual package that they step into the breach and fill in for their husbands. Men come to rely on this female characteristic. Shame on the men. —Todd Lillywhite

Thanks for your letter, Todd. I was hoping we’d hear from a brother or two out there. Incidentally, isn’t it interesting that not one man wrote in to complain about his wife?

Naughtius Maximus

At about six months of age, our newest cat, the "red" tabby (I'm told that's the correct appellation) is probably in the full throes of kitty teenagerhood. It seems that I lost out in the naming competition. He is being called Thomas or some variation of it. The girls say his official name is Thomas Victor Dobby Sperlunker IV.

Everyone in the family fawns over him (except Ruby, who ignores him as much as possible.) He still has (but, has almost grown out of) the annoying habit of reaching peak alertness at 5:30 in the morning and coming in search of Human love and affection. He will nudge you on the face or forehead with his face (this is a very intimate gesture for cats.) Prominent in this show of affection is his wet nose. All the time his purr will be going like a Pratt & Whitney jet engine...on take off. One night I tried to remove him from such proximity and earshot several times by placing him ever so gently on the floor. Finally, he got the message. But, he tried to reinitiate relations by bumping my dangling hand several times. It is not uncommon for him to jump up on the bed, start his purring (In Italian they call this "facendo le fusa" which literally means making the spindles, and must refer to the rhythmic sound a spindle makes when it is turning fast) and paw at the covers or whomever he can get a perch on, all the while bearing a look on his face that asks, "are you my mommy?"

Last night He ran out the front door when Bob Kirk came to visit. He loves to do this. We don't mind so much if Ruby goes outside. She is more mature and has proven that she knows which house is ours and that she ought not run off to Tooele or Santaquin and when she's had enough she will wait patiently at the door to be let in. We aren't quite ready to entrust Tommy with that level of responsibility yet. Besides, when he goes outside Laney screams that he is going to be hit by a car or attacked by marauding owls or some other nocturnal raptors. So, last night in the dark I was outside trying to corral the felonious feline. Laney was trying to help me as well. She had just finished a bath and was only "wearing" a towel. I have neglected some of my fatherly duties and have not properly trained Laney in advanced stalking techniques. Whenever Tommy would stop somewhere, she would just run at him. Of course he's going to run away from a shrieking, streaking (almost naked, almost dry) five year old. Eventually she got smart and left the catching to me. He ran to the Herndons. He ran to the Petersons. He ran across the street to the Suzukis. I was about to give up and tell the others to do it (I had just gotten home from a much longer than necessary meeting and was in the middle of something on the computer) when he came out of Norma Noyes' rose bushes and let me grab him.

We must not be feeding Tommy enough because the other day he insisted on climbing on the kitchen counter and licking the electric can opener for whatever remnants of food or flavor there might have been there. I must have shooed him away five times. Just for fun, we are going to give that can opener to the second hand store without washing it first.

Another one of his favorite things is to climb the canopy on our bed. I have my "trek" cowboy hat (see below) hanging on one of the finials. He claws his way up the canopy curtains, always on the only corner where the hat is hanging. He likes to balance across that corner partially covered by the hat, his belly hanging between the right sides of the corner. Occasionally he will carefully walk along the inch wide cross members with his tail flailing and spinning like a propeller for balance. He stops in the middle to watch the ceiling fan. We half expect him to jump at it.

FHE

Our Family Home Evenings are probably not different than some. But, they are far from ideal. We've had to limit Laney to two opening songs. For the longest time she always wanted to to sing "Making Christmas" from Tim Burton's "The Nightmare Before Christmas." That's not even a Primary song! We were well pleased last Monday when her first choice was "I Am a Child of God." (When we sing this, I always say "with parents kind and weird" pointing to myself and then Lenore.) So we also permitted the singing of "Once There Was a Snowman." Another of her favorites is "The Wise Man Built His House Upon the Rock." The more remarkable thing about our opening songs in FHE is they are always accompanied by an interpretive dance on the part of Laney. It's a good thing the "Solid Gold" song/dance show isn't still on. She would be a huge fan. As I recall Ailsa went in for the interpretive dance thing too.

Not Denali

Mount Timpanogos at 11,749 feet, isn't the tallest mountain in Utah. But, it may be the most well known. Its top is actually a long ridge with several peaks that fan out along the Northeastern edge of Utah county. I recently read someone else's account of climbing it and thought I should put down in words my only experience doing the same.

It was in the Fall of 1980. I had finally returned to BYU after my mission. I left early one Saturday morning (about 7am) with Kevin Wilson, Stuart Campbell and Chris Money. This adventure was one of several outings in my life where we didn't put a lot of forethought or preparation into the thing. We took no food nor water with us. We didn't even eat any breakfast before we left. I was wearing my K-SWISS tennis shoes. Our hike started at the trailhead near Sundance.

It took us four hours to reach the top and two hours 15 minutes to descend. As I recall we stopped for a rest break where the trail is joined by another path coming from the North trailhead. This is about 2/3rds of the way up the hike? During this rest stop we encountered a small group of young girls (probably a beehive class.) They appeared to be well provisioned and in great spirits and vigor. We were very tired and did our best to look pathetic and beat so we could scam off them part of a sandwich and a can of soda pop. I am certain those provisions "saved" us. From that point on I had no will at all really to finish the hike. Other than the fatigue, lack of water, and lack nutrition, the deleterious effects of the thin air may have also contributed to this absence of drive. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and actually, before long you could see the summit and it was easier to press ahead.

We descended the summit by sliding down the "glacier" into the meadow. I guess this was one of the reasons for performing the hike in the first place. The first 10 feet or so of the slide were straight down and the rest is at a very sharp angle drop. (Pay no attention to the carcasses of ill-fated glacier sliders that you see littering the area.) We must have slid about 300 yards. It was very bumpy and my hands (which I used as stabilizers during this wild ride) were numb and tingly for about three days afterwards. Eager to end our ordeal we nearly trotted the rest of the way down the hill which caused some blisters and bruised toenails from crashing into the front of my shoes. Otherwise, I suffered no ill effects. But, I never did it again. That may be my sub-conscious protecting me.

Did They Send Me Daughters, When I Asked For Sons?

About a week and a half ago we had one of those evenings. I'm not sure what touched it off except that I believe I started in on the two older girls about their treatment of and reaction to Laney and her antics and please let us be the parents and... and... And Ailsa started in on how we are terrible parents and Laney gets away with everything, we were much harder on them, we experimented on Ailsa and ruined her. I countered with the fact that people change and you can't expect us to be the same now as we were 15 years ago and we are older and tired and have to choose our battles wisely. Pretty soon Ailsa was crying and then Jensen started in and I hadn't even been contending with her. So, of course I felt like a bad Bishop and even worse Father. After a while I realized that there was a higher than normal hormone level in the room and I just backed off.

I usually thank the Lord that I have girls instead of sons. Boys are usually a bit dopey and dimwitted compared to the girls their age. I think that might bother me. Also, I am so glad I don't have to do Boy Scouts and take them camping all the time. But, occasionally the females (said with Star Trek Ferengi intonation and disdain) have me completely baffled and flummoxed.

Mini Riunione

We had missionary friends over for dinner on Saturday evening. Dana Kendrick and his friend Shelley and also Michelle and Steve Young (not that Steve Young.) We see the Youngs pretty often. But, this is the first time I've really been able to spend any time with Dana since the mission. We were companions in Milan for a couple of months. Dana is from North Carolina and has a very charming accent and affable southern style. His friend Shelley is very poised and confident and attractive. The Youngs are also some of the warmest and nicest people in the world. They brought some of their kids so Laney could play with "Itchell." His name is really Mitchell. But, Laney first called him Itchell and it has stuck, at least for us.

I fixed my red sauce recipe that I learned from Colomba Serreri, whom Dana and I taught and baptized in Milan. Michelle also made some Panforte that was delicious. It's really Italian fruitcake. But, I really like it. It's a little like Spanish "mole" because it has black pepper and chocolate in it along with several other spices.

Dana told of an experience escaping a police cruiser on the streets of Milan after running through a red light while neither he nor his companion had their licenses or passports with them. It was late and they had just checked the Mission President into a hospital because of a medical emergency.

IRUKANDJI!!!!!!!!

We caught a program last night on Discovery channel about KILLER JELLYFISH! It was quite fascinating. At first we didn't want Laney to watch because we thought she might never go near the ocean again or have trouble sleeping from fright, especially after her close encounter with a jellyfish this summer. Well, she heard KILLER JELLYFISH! and we couldn't get her away. We assured her that these jellyfish would have to swim a very long way to cause us any trouble, especially while we are in Utah. Are you suggesting jellyfish migrate? I didn't think there was anything more deadly than the Portuguese Man-O-War. But, many box jellyfish and more particularly the dreaded IRUKANDJI! (I love that name. Even if you didn't know what it was it would invoke paralyzing fear.) carry toxins that are 500 times more potent than the sissy Portuguese Man-O-War. After the program there was a teaser for a similar program on KILLER ANTS! Great, we had just assured Laney that ants were harmless. If you get a chance to see the show you should watch it.

Your Stairway Lies on the Whispering Wind

I was at KFC yesterday for lunch (I love those Honey BBQ wings.) The radio on their PA system played "Stairway to Heaven." It's been awhile since I heard that. Yes, in retrospect it is very dated, iconic, even dorky and it is the quintessential epic rock ballad. Now, I can't help but think of Dana Carvey singing "Chopping Broccoli" when I hear it. When I was in the 7th grade though, it was cool (that guitar solo!) Everyone thought the lyrics were so deep and we all wanted to be able to write something similar. Dana Carvey helps me to see that it's not all that complicated and sophisticated. Specifically, it reminds me of talking to AnnaMarie Knox on her front porch.

For Those in Withdrawal

Click on the link in the title for a live webcam of San Clemente. This is my favorite picture of Laney from San Clemente this year. She likes to run around while I am taking pictures. It makes it a little hard to get a good picture. But, they turn out fun when you get one. Notice the brown/green tinge of the water from the "red tide."

Where are we going? and why am I in this handbasket?

Sometimes I wonder if it just seems that the World is so much worse than it used to be. Perhaps it appears that way because we have access to so much more information today....Nah! I know that throughout history we generally see a decline in morality and the scriptures and prophets tell us to expect that. At the same time we are supposed to struggle against such a decline. With that preface, let me vent.

What is society thinking? last week there were two major Utah news stories that simply ground the faces of already downtrodden conservatives into the muck and seem to be symptomatic of the Nation as a whole:

Jon Huntsman (RINO) Utah Governor announced a compromise on the Legacy Highway issue. Bob Lonsberry described it very aptly, "The state used the grab-your-ankles approach to negotiation, with occasional utilization of the here’s-my-wallet-don’t-hurt-me technique." There was absolutelyey no reason to cave into the brash demands of outsider funded minority special interest environmentalist terrorists.

The now crippled Legacy Highway project has long been needed to ease the traffic on the only main artery north and south through the three northern most valleys of Utah. Years ago construction was halted by environmentalists and Salt Lake Mayor Rocky Anderson with the subsequent cost to taxpayers of hundreds of millions of dollars. A highway project to benefit the State and desired by the majority of the people, was halted by a wacko left-wing mayor (who thinks he is the most important man in the State), his ACLU-enviro-terrorist cronies and their supporters and financial backers who live elsewhere.

Also last week, Rocky Anderson extended City employee benefits to their live-in "partners." This was meant to be a nod to same sex couples. But, to achieve his aim he can't exclude heterosexual couples who haven't bothered to get married. Let's face it Rocky was rubbing our noses in it. Consider the typical same sex couple. Are they more or less likely to have children? Are they more or less likely to have lots of children? Are they more or less likely to be a dual income household? Same rhetorical questions for the shack-ups who can't bring themselves to get married. He gave official standing to same sex partners under the guise of giving them a benefit that most of them probably don't need and likely need a lot less than heterosexual, legally married, stay-at-home-mom type families.

Liberals in Utah love to cry that the LDS Church runs the State. If that were true there are a lot of things like this that would never happen in Utah. In reality the Church has limited control even over its devout members.

It becomes increasingly apparent that what minorities lose at the ballot box and cannot achieve through constitutional means they are able to obtain through lawless courts and judges and the Supreme Fiat of Maverick Ideologue Leaders and appointees.

Our Constitution is really on it's head. I remember during the Reagan era discussing the idea of majority rule with an office associate who was very Liberal. I got the distinct impression that there was a groundswell of the idea that "even though we are a minority, we still get a voice." She used the phrase "protection of the minority." Where in the Constitution is this idea of the minority getting a voice? I think you only get a voice if you can control a majority. Over the years we see a growth in the mechanisms for the "voice of the minority." 1) Lobbyists and special interest groups with $, 2) Judges and leaders who a) don't enforce the law b) proclaim constitutional rights mentioned nowhere in our Divine Contract, and c) pronounce as unconstitutional" laws and bills enacted by Congress or by the voice of the people, 3) frivolous lawsuits that give situs and standing to nonsense ideas and people, 4) hijacking of the State Educational system for wholesale indoctrinization of their ideas, 5) "rights" extended to criminals who, by their actions, have forfeited Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, and 6) the promotion of land, plants, and animals to a status superior to humans (I call this doctrine "Liberal Flapdoodle").

More and more I feel people don't know and don't believe in the America that was. There are whole groups of grown ups, supposedly smart and educated people, whose main premise is that the US is outdated and needs to be changed. Then there are the right thinking people who feel that the US has gone too far afield and needs to be changed back.

Update 29 Sep 05

Now Rocky Anderson has gotten caught paying for Liquor (to entertain out of town guests) with his city expense credit card. This is illegal. He says it's a stupid law and is going to change it.

Update 5 Oct 05

I sent a letter to the Opinion Page of the Deseret News (follows). They haven't published it yet. Which leads me to believe they won't. It's probably deemed too provocative. They usually print my letters when I send them:

Supporters of Rocky Anderson like to tell the rest of us that if we don't like him we can move to Salt Lake and vote him out. This would be just fine if he limited his actions to those that only affect and reflect on Salt Lake City. In truth he is an embarrassment to most of the state. The only avenue the rest of us have against him is to complain. Anyone who is not transfixed with adoration for Rocky can tell that he clearly has an inferiority complex about being Utahn and wishes the LDS Church didn't exist. He doesn't want to be the Mayor of Salt Lake. He wants to be the Mayor of Berkeley, or better yet, the King of the World.

Oakley Rodeo

Last weekend we had a retreat for the Bishops in the Murray South Stake. All I knew was that it was at "the Sorenson's" cabin. I thought that was Steve Sorensen who was just recently released as the Stake Executive Secretary. It was actually Utah Billionaire, James Sorenson. He has a couple of children who live in our Stake. The "cabin" was very nice. It's about 8 miles up the valley to the East of Oakley, Utah. We had a very nice time. I was pleased that President Daw allowed it to be simply social, no fireside, no morning devotional. We just sat around and chatted and laughed, ate and played a silly game with candy bars. Bishop Mark Johnson of the South Cottonwood ward told the dooziest mission story about a sister in his mission who had a baby (immaculate conception!!!!) Lenore and I got one of the nicer rooms, a suite, probably because it had a larger bed and I'm so tall. I couldn't figure out how to make the satellite TV work, though. Sister Daw made some really good salsa. I usually avoid Jalapeno peppers like the plague. But, in this case they added just the right amount of spiciness and pepperiness for me.

Under The Way

I was reminded today of an elderly German sister we knew in Milan. We called her Sorella Unterweger. She lived in some government subsidized housing north (I think) of the Circonvalazione in Milan. I'm sure she is deceased now. In her apartment she had 30 or so small birds that just ran loose. You had to be attentive to their occasional "blessings." She wrote a small poem about the missionaries that I thought I should preserve in some way for her.

Ogni partenza degli Anziani
Piange il cielo di Milano
Se non e' diluvio, e' pioggiarella pian piano
Piange anche l'occhio umano
Al rumore degli aeri che li portano lontano

Every time the Elders leave
The sky over Milan cries
If it's not a flood, it's a slow drizzling rain
The eye of man also cries
At the sound of the planes that take them far away.

Ailsa's Latest Self Portrait

I like this alot.

Westward Ho!

Our Stake sponsors a pioneer trek reenactment every four years. Both Ailsa and Jensen were of the right age to participate in June of 2004. So when the opportunity arose for me to go as well I decided (despite several reasons I could think of not to) to go along as a son in one of the families. I wasn't thrilled about forfeiting three vacation days to put myself through a grueling ordeal with about 150 dorky juveniles (including my two) in the wilds of northeastern Utah. I am not a camper. However, I am well acquainted with the faith and toils of the pioneers and have read " the Second Rescue". I knew it would be a great experience for Ailsa and Jensen and if I had the chance to experience it with them I should. Some notable ancestors of theirs made the trek out west by wagon train and handcart.

From our ward we had a pretty good group of kids who went. There was one boy who early in the year very adamantly refused even to consider going. He rightfully knew it wasn't just a bowl of cherries. About a month before the event it was abruptly announced that he would be going. In a Sacrament meeting afterward where we had the kids speak he said it was the best decision his mom had ever made for him.

The first morning after gathering at the Stake Center and meeting the other people in our families ( Mark Mangoni (pa), Mercedi Towers (ma, from our ward), Sean Carter, Travis Howland, Preston Wittwer, Nick DeMann, Lindsay Irion, AJ Robinson, Jamie Bergstrom, Ashlee Christiansen) we were fed a vast farmer breakfast and told to eat a lot which we did willingly. I noticed that one of our boys, Travis, ate quite a lot. All of our girls were fairly small and Travis was really the only other boy who looked like he had some heft and strength to him.

We reached our starting point only about 15 miles east of Morgan, Utah by bus and after applying sunscreen and donning sunglasses and all we set off. The handcarts we used are very sturdy and larger than the typical ones used in the 1850's. Stan Baker in our ward served a mission where he built these handcarts and he told us they were designed to carry about 800 pounds of gear (whereas a typical period handcart would carry half of that at the most). Granted the pioneers carried less stuff but they also probably traveled in groups smaller than 9 or 10 like we were. Very early on, I'm not sure when, I wasn't paying attention, one of the boys, whose name will be withheld at the behest of my legal counsel (my wife),"twisted" his ankle aggravating an "old injury." I put it in quotes because there was some ambiguity about the injury and it became evident fairly quickly that many of his peers were cynical about his plight. I got the feeling he had a reputation for this sort of thing.

I consider myself a fairly large and strong person. In situations of physical exertion as a part of a team I tend to try to do more than my part. I did okay for the first four hours or so. But, I found after that my strength was sapped. I probably should have paced myself better. Years ago during a sponsored 60 mile bike ride I was doing with Eric and a friend of his, we fell in with another rider we didn't know for about 20 miles or so who helped us with our pacing. He was from Holland and had his name, Jan Vreeling, painted on his bike frame so we figured he might be somebody. At one point I was at the lead of the pace line and we were trying to maintain a 21-22 mph pace. I turned to him and told him I wasn't sure I could keep it up. He replied in a very Schwartzenegeresque accent, "just keep pedaling". I have relied on that suggestion many times since and it came in handy during trek. As a family now when we see a group of geese or ducks flying in formation and hear them honking at each other, we joke that they are saying "just keep pedaling".

At one point about in the middle of the first day's trek we stopped for a longer than usual break. We were given some granola bars and apples and some lemonade. We sat on the hillside (I inadvertently sat in some sheep dip) and listened to a talk or two. We were preparing for an unusually grueling climb. It was steep and long and I think they also wanted to psyche us out a little. Anyway, we gutted out the climb and got to the top where they had us stop again for a long time. Shortly, after we stopped Preston Wittwer became ill. At first we all thought it might have to do with some slight asthma problems. But, after thinking about it I think it was just from the exertion. I think it's not uncommon to feel ill after a long difficult exertion. It seems as soon as you let up, your body reacts to all the adrenalin or something. Being sick is not the sort of thing you want to do in front of anyone, especially teen-age peers. I felt sorry for him. All I could do was put my arm across his shoulders and comfort him until it passed.

I'm pretty sure that these pioneer treks were conceived and designed by the same people who conduct those wilderness adventure experiences for wayward youth. It seems there is a lot of psychological manipulation and control that takes place on these outings. This may have been partially lost on the youth. But, I was aware what was going on and I didn't always like it. Our Ma and Pa were told not assist us with the cart which seemed really dumb to me. I'm sure there is some new-age psychological bonding reasoning behind that custom. But, I doubt I agree with it. We stopped for rests every once in a while, which is good. But, these stops were designed to waste and consume time so that there is no chance you will arrive at camp at a decent hour. After the sun went down I was quite perturbed because I couldn't see well at all. For the "women's pull" portion of the Trek the men were sent off on our Mormon Battalion duties. We were asked to refrain from speaking and spend our time in contemplation. We marched ahead for about a half a mile or so. After a stop and another talk we were waiting for the women and as they approached and passed us we were supposed to fall in with our family of sisters and walk along side of them without lending help in pushing the cart. One moving moment for me was as the women approached up the last hill. In this self imposed contemplative silence the only thing you could hear was their panting and hard breathing as they struggled in the yoke.

As I said we were supposed to fall in with our sisters. The only problem for me was in the darkness even though they passed within 3 feet of me I couldn't tell one girl from another and all of the handcarts passed me by without my finding my family. After several frustrating minutes I finally found my family as we were readying to leave for the last 2 hour push. Every once in a while the kids wanted to sing pioneer songs or primary songs. I would try to sing with them. But, was always too short of breath. It soon became apparent to me that if you could sing you weren't working hard enough. Despite all of the work and hassle I often felt a marked poignancy about what we were doing. It's an odd way to honor your forbears and pioneers. But, probably a fitting way. I expect that beyond the veil there are those who appreciate it and lend their presence from time to time to make that known to us.

When we finally reached our first night's camp at midnight we were given a quick meal of broth and a hard roll. It was meager. But it was very good. The ankle twister boy had been riding in a car. But, managed to join us for our meal and eat his share. Literally every possible moment after we reached the base camp on the second day we found him asleep. I thought he was on pain meds. But, later found out no. Maybe he was depressed. Anyhow, the first three "naps" we found him sleeping with a plastic knife in his hand. We started teasing him about it and he explained that it was in his pocket and he didn't want to sleep on it. We surmised he was either equipping himself for spur of the moment self defense against marauding bears or it was a subliminal manifestation of an eating fetish. That first night despite arriving so late and being dead tired, I had a lot of trouble falling asleep. I can think of three things that may have contributed to this. I was over exhausted. We were at a slightly elevated altitude (I think around 7500 feet). And I had the tarp over my head to keep warm which may have limited my access to oxygen. As it turned out I probably only got about 5 hours of sleep. The first day we hiked 10 miles with a rise in elevation of about 2500 feet.

Part of the Trek Experience is how the dynamics of the family work themselves out. The jostling for position and the roles that fit best. At first the "parents" adopt a hands off approach so that personalities can parry and thrust their way into proper position. Since the whole thing was for the youth, I nearly always felt I was in a somewhat awkward position, supposedly being a child in the family, but actually being a big mature adult. I could easily step in and assert myself and rob some of the kids of the opportunity to "find" themselves on Trek. I think I managed to be as unobtrusive as possible.

The first morning we struggled somewhat making our corn meal mush in a dutch oven. Our coals weren't very hot. We later learned that you are supposed to have the coals on a slight platform rather than in an small hole. We ended up mixing all the mush in the water while it was still warming up rather than waiting for it to boil. I thought that was going to ruin it. It ended up just fine. We later found out that is the way our dutch oven expert says you should do it.

The hiking that second day was only 5 miles. But, there were a couple of hills where they had us take off through the brush. Especially one brutal hill where several unusually vigorous young men and leaders came back to help us. So when we reached the top I went back with some others to help another family. Many hands may not make light work. But they can make it lighter. Also our rest stops this second day were not of the wasting time variety. For that reason I may have tired more quickly than the day before. Of course they still weren't telling us anything about how far we were going or where it was or how long and by the time we were within the final quarter mile I was so hoping the base camp was right around the last bend. I wasn't sure I could go on. The last couple of hundred yards my left hip was hurting and one of my feet was giving me pain every step I took.

The afternoon of Thursday they had some fun activities for us to do. The most memorable was the black powder rifle demonstration. Because of the rules in place for the Deseret Land and Livestock Ranch. They could only allow 2 people in each demonstration group to shoot the guns. Jensen got to do this. I not sure if she was just lucky or her family volunteered her because they knew her personality. The official trek photographer wanted to video Roxanne Hoskins shooting the gun so he had me use his still camera while he took video of her. I got a really good shot of her right at the moment she pulled the trigger complete with a nice plume of smoke coming out of the barrel. This photographer took all sorts of pictures and put together a DVD with a half hour video of trek and also a lot of still pictures. We understand it has been shown to other groups who are preparing to go. Ailsa is featured quite prominently in it. But Jensen and I are hardly anywhere to be found. They ended up using the picture I took at the black powder demonstration for the cover of the DVD.

I set up my tarp and sleeping bag sharing space with Mr.Sore Ankle. We weren't right next to each other. But within a couple of feet. My sleeping bag came with a sort of dorky cheap plastic zippered bag that it goes in. Each night I placed in it things that I wanted handy but didn't want to get wet. I went to sleep that night with it right near my head and had my coat and hat on top of it. At the last minute I tried to ask Mark to put them under the kitchen fly. But he couldn't hear me and I didn't want to climb out of my blanket and sleeping bag.

A crack of thunder and rain on my tarp awakened me about 1:30 am. Thinking myself to be safe from the rain I turned my thoughts to my stuff outside the tarp. I poked my head out and couldn't see my stuff. So I figured someone must have seen it and put it in a safe place. I silently thanked them. So I tried to go back to sleep praying that the rain would stop or I at least would stay dry and be able to sleep. I kept praying and later it was obvious that everyone else in the camp would have been praying the same thing at the same time, including the Stake President who really shoulders all of the responsibility for the safety and comfort of all the Trekkers. He later told us that while praying for the rain to stop he felt a rebuke and realized that it was wrong for us to pray for rain to relieve our drought and then try to stop it as soon as it arrives.

Before long I could tell I was getting very wet. I poked my head out again and after looking around better than the time before I found I was all skiwampus on my tarp and my stuff was still right where I had left it. Other than the mere fact that I was just lying on a tarp on the ground and had another one covering me, I couldn't tell why I was getting wet. I was covered. But, I guess water was coming down the meadow or landing on my ground tarp and then running to where I was. I rearranged myself a little and covered up again and resumed my praying. My adjustments didn't do any good and I continued to get wetter. After about an hour of this I started to hear voices in camp and it became apparent that most campers were giving up on prayer, sleep and the current arrangements and were climbing out of bed to take matters in their own hands. I was all wet on one side. The side I was lying on.

The stake leaders had set up three different large flys about the size and shape of a Quonset hut. We headed across the meadow to one of these. It was already well populated with refugees. We managed to squeeze in. I sat on the ground for about an hour trying, and nearly succeeding, to fall asleep. But like clockwork about every minute I would go through a violent shivering fit. At one point Alma Hansen (the trail boss) along with President Burton and a couple of other leaders came by to check on us. Of course along with everyone else I wanted them to tell us we were going home early. Shortly after that someone brought over a small bucket fire starter and a couple of 2x4's that provided a small but welcome fire. We set it just under the edge of the fly so it wouldn't be completely exposed to the rain and we also wouldn't be filling our shelter with smoke. This fire was only big enough for about 4 people to sit closely around without standing in the rain. I was on the edge also partially exposed to the rain. But, it was a comfort to warm myself huddled closely to this meager fire. Shortly after 5am the sky started to lighten and so did our spirits in anticipation of the warmth of day. Not too long thereafter the rain lessened and then stopped altogether.

I made my way back to our camp and we soon got a big fire started and began trying to dry out our wet bedding. While we were warming ourselves at our new fire and beginning the preparations for breakfast we could hear Mr. Broken Foot stirring under the tarp behind us. Remember he was only 2 or 3 feet from where I had been sleeping. He finally pulled back the cover tarp and unzipped his sleeping bag. Body heat just poured out of his bag as he looked up at us with an expression like, "what's all the fuss about?" I guess the Lord figured that he didn't need the same Trek hardships as the rest of us. There were a handful of people throughout camp who had a relatively peaceful, dry, and restful night, including Jensen who was right on the border of their covering fly and looked to be in the most precarious spot but stayed nice and dry and warm. The rest of us (about 95%) had been miserable. The sun took awhile to burn off all of the clouds. But, when it did things warmed up and dried out pretty well and pretty fast. I remember wondering if I would ever see the sun again or if I would ever dry out and feel its comfort and warmth again.

We took our wet things and sleeping bags and spread them out over the sage brush to dry in the sun. This worked well for everything except the plastic ground cloths I had because they didn't breathe and just caught the condensation from below. Also, the bushes harbor a lot of bugs and ants and a good number of them ended up on whatever you spread out over the sage.

We would not be on Trek for a Sunday. But they wanted us to experience worship services on Trek so Friday was our Sabbath. I went to the priesthood meeting. But after the fatigue of the first day and the lack of sleep during the second night I found it nearly impossible to stay awake. I realized I would either have to be on my feet actively doing something or I should just try to get some sleep. A quote comes to mind from the Shawshank Redemption. "Get busy living or get busy dying." So I skipped out on Sunday School and went into camp to gather firewood and do some other chores.

Our Ma and Pa were really cute and fun (other than not helping push the handcart). After some time we noticed that Mark Mangoni said "unbelievable" very often. He must have picked up the habit on his mission or something. It got to the point that the girls started counting how many time he said it and we would all laugh.

The ordeal of the rainy night weighed somewhat on the conscience of the Stake leaders. They had allowed the Pa's and Ma's to bring along tents to be used in emergencies. After the first two nights under the stars they let us know about the tents and each family prepared more adequately for the last night by setting up these tents and making further preparations for the possibility of rain on the last night. Later in the afternoon when they held a special meeting and each of the kids was encouraged to use some "solo" time to write in their journal or pray, I retired to our tent and took a nap. Even though I was dead tired I still had trouble falling asleep. But, I eventually did and napped for about two hours. Each of the kids home parents was asked to write them a letter that they would read during this solo time. The letter I wrote for Ailsa follows this account.

When we first met at the Stake Center the morning of the first day each of us was given the name and partial details of a handcart pioneer who we represented. During the solo time on Friday were given further details about our person, basically how they fared on their own trek to the West. We were told whether we survived or not and given an armband to wear, white for those who lived and black for those who died. I died. Ailsa and Jensen both lived.

Later that evening during our fireside President Burton asked a member of each family to stand and tell something they had learned on Trek. Each kid said something pertinent and interesting. He chose Jensen from her family. She simply said she didn't know what she had learned. I later chatted with Pres. Burton about it and he said it was perfect because Jensen represented that portion of the group that didn't know. I certainly wasn't sure why I was there. Near the end of his remarks, Pres Burton referred to our armbands and first had the survivors stand and spoke about them. He then had the dead of us stand and made some remarks. It was interesting to note how many of the men had not made it. I think most of the men in "my" family had died. I imagine it might have to do with the same reason for my overexertion on the first day. Maybe many fathers and/or eldest sons spent themselves on the plains trying to take care of those who couldn't take care of all their own needs.

There was a group of three boys who had brought bagpipes and would play from time to time so that we occasionally heard the very poignant scurl of bagpipes playing hymns while we fixed dinner or something else (I requested "Praise to the Man". But they hadn't practiced it.) At this point in the fireside they played amazing grace on the bagpipes while the "dead" people stood. This was such a touching moment I couldn't hold back the huge feelings of sorrow and gratitude I had for pioneers and forbears particularly for those who sacrificed so much in coming West and establishing the Church.

We had endured the thunder showers during the night while we prayed for intervention. Some of us may have even cursed God because of the elements. One great lesson that becomes very plain and obvious as soon as you spend any time at all in the outdoors is how exposed you are under the canopy of heaven. This is a two edged sword. You are subject at all times to the whims of nature. You have to be ever vigilant against too much exposure to the sun or not drinking enough water. Friday morning I left my gloves off for a couple of hours and got quite a good sunburn. But, on the plains you are also blessed immensely to be able to witness first hand and up close all of nature's beauties. This is "Big Sky" country and it is easy to find and appreciate many scenes such as those depicted in paintings by Albert Bierstadt or Gilbert Munger that show the American West on such a grand scale. The air is fresh and constantly seasoned with whiffs of wild sage or mint or basil. We did get some rain sprinkles during the day on Friday. But, for the most part the storms skirted us. After the fireside while preparing for dinner we received the most fitting reward and apology from heaven for the night's ordeal in the form of a beautiful double rainbow. At the mouth of the gently sloping valley that we were camped in, a couple of miles distant there was a display of two complete arcs of beautiful color. I have often seen parts of double rainbows. I don't think I have ever seen both ends of any rainbow. This view gave us hope of 4 pots of gold. It's message seemed to me: perhaps I can't protect you from all of your trials. But, I can make it worth your while.

In the Televised June 2004 Priesthood Leadership Conference President Hinckley gave us a little tour of his office and showed some of the prints on the walls and other artwork. One piece was a small sculpture showing his grandfather burying his wife and half-brother somewhere on the plains in 1850. His grandfather then continued on to the valley with his infant child. President Hinckley said, "I know that no matter how hard I work, it will never be as hard as he worked, nor will I pay so great a price in the service I give." This very appropriately sums up my feelings after experiencing "Trek".

Letter to kids (Jensen's is very similar):
Dearest Ailsa:

You are a sweet daughter of ours and of Heavenly Father. You come from a long line of a noble heritage. This pioneer trek reenactment is to allow you an experience that somewhat approximates what some of your ancestors went through and to teach you of the great blessings your Heavenly father gave them and has given to you. You will be exposed to the elements and to poverty and the mercy and goodness of the Lord. Remember always to recognize and acknowledge his hand in every area of your life. The precariousness of our very life thread is watched over and guarded by the Lord at all times. This reality will be even more evident in the wilderness. All we receive comes from his goodness and providence.

You have ancestors who came to the valley with the first company, some who came directly across from England, Wales, and Norway by boat. There were others who came by wagon or train, many of those who were not related to the Prophet were well acquainted with him and some were close associates and friends. Whatever the circumstance, all of these sought to gather to Zion. Our greatest hope for our loved ones is that one day we will be able to gather to Zion as a family on the other side of the veil.

In the extremity of this trek remember your great grandparents who crossed the plains by handcart. Remember the strength and faith of your great grandmother who sometimes carried her little child in her apron with the corners of the apron in her mouth so she too could push the handcart. Remember the sacrifice of your great grandfather and great uncle who were martyred in Carthage jail to seal their testimonies with blood and who marked the path of the Gospel for the Saints of the Latter Days. You may feel these spirits and others near while performing this undertaking. Your attempts to honor them and understand their sacrifices will not go without recognition. While as a family we may sometimes grumble in jest at all the Lord requires of us, remember that your mother and I love the Gospel and the Prophets and our grumblings are only a manifestation of our human frailties, not of any weakness of God's plan for us.

You have been richly blessed and endowed with great talents and abilities. You are our firstborn and much is expected of you. Please respond to the challenge of being the best example possible to your peers and siblings. Jensen especially could use your kindness and good example. Please let your peers on this trek see your great spirit and personality and bring them into your circle of friends. My only regret in your attending Kimber academy has been your separation from the good kids of this stake. My youth experience was much different than yours. I was part of a huge group of good kids who strengthened each other in the Gospel. I draw upon that strength often. I only wish for you a similar experience with the youth of this stake.

When the road gets difficult, reach out to the Lord and he will bend the path upward to meet you, steer the wind to your back, and will lighten your load as he did with the people of Alma. Seek his aid and he will provide sufficient for your needs. We love you.

your loving parents.

Class of 2018

Laney starts Kindergarten on Wednesday. She went for “screening” last Thursday. It’s really a thinly veiled entrance exam. If she did well enough she may be given special graham cracker privileges or be moved to the top of the rotation for milk monitor. We had her working with online Kindergarten Screening Practice tests for a couple of weeks before her exam.

Cat Burglar

One evening in San Clemente the kids left the apartment to go for a walk on the pier and try to attract stalkers. So, I thought it was just me and Laney in the apartment. I went in the bathroom briefly leaving Laney on the bed. When I returned, she was holding a cat on her lap. Some stranger's cat had wandered in for a visit. I thought it odd because the front door was closed and I was sure the kids wouldn't just let in some stray cat without telling me. I looked around and figured out the he must have climbed a fence and jumped onto the roof right near the upstairs deck and come in the open sliding door. Other than his surprise intrusion, he was very well mannered and tempered. Several of the clan from the other apartment came over to say hi to him. We think he was a Russian Blue. The name on his tag said "Fizz."

Battle Hardened. Battle Weary.

We went paintballing last night with a group of mostly kids from the ward. I've never done this before. It was an indoor arena so the floor was all squishy with paint and you can't help but get a little messed up. This may not have been the greatest thing to do for an LDS youth activity. But, I think there were valuable lessons to be learned, especially for the boys. I guess this is as close as you can get to real combat without certain threat to life. The first game we had no strategy, hadn't taken the time. So most people stayed in our initial position, which would have been fine if part of our team had spread out to cover our flanks. I had balls flying all around me, kids behind me screaming and crying and shooting blind over our bunker. Another kid was at my feet cowering after being hit in the head. He was also screaming and crying. The whole situation engendered real confusion and fear about being hit with a paintball. I kept thinking of Blackhawk Down. Honestly, one kid looked just like Viggo Mortensen. I did feel one direct hit on my arm. That's all I thought I had until I got home and found three more on my arms. One of the ones I hadn't noticed looks a lot worse than the rest. I guess the pain could be compared to receiving a shot in the arm.

Caveat Venditor

I'll try to say this without causing too much shame or consternation for my father in law. Two years ago when they were moving to Utah and selling their home in Kentfield, California, they were told they weren't asking enough for their house. I think they were told to list it at upwards of 2 million. The home held deep sentimental value for my in laws and they wanted to make sure it wasn't just torn down and that someone would enjoy it like they did for years. I think they believed they had found the perfect family for the home, a young family. They felt comfortable that this family understood and would respect their wishes. They even lowered their price for the family and it sold at 1.5 million. Well, the home has now been dolled up some (paint, carpet, some landscaping) and is on the market for 2.8 million. Try to say that without sounding like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers.

The Tender Mercies of the Lord

On Monday 15 Aug while we were in San Clemente we went to the open house for the Newport Beach LDS Temple. At the San Clemente first ward it was the topic du jour and it sounded like everyone involved was just thrilled about it. We parked in the temporary off site parking at the Mariner Church and rode a Bus over to the Temple. Joan announced to our tour guide that we were all members (so no need to waste valuable missionary oriented breath on our account.) When we rounded the curve and the Temple came into view my heart thrilled with the spirit. And I felt similar emotions in the baptistry and other rooms as well. Once again the decor, design, and workmanship were top notch. I expect many people who attended the open house will never step inside a building on par with it unless they get to visit the Sultan of Brunei.

I kept expecting to see at least a couple of people I might know from all of my acquaintances who live in the Southland. Finally as we were leaving the Temple and making our way over to the reception area I saw Kay Powell. It's funny, I think I run into her more often than anyone else from my past and I think she is the least plussed by our occasional sightings.

There was a nice young man with an electric cart giving rides to the feeble and handicapped. He had three extra seats and offered them to me, Lenore, and Laney. Just as I was sitting down Stuart Campbell came over and grabbed me. I had got back in touch with him about a month ago and tried to see if we could get together. I think he was really busy with Open House assignments. I spent my whole time in the reception area catching up on his latest. They are adding a second level to their house so they are in an apartment for the remodel. He said being involved in the Open House had been like serving another mission, a great spiritual high. He and Kendra had been tour guides in the Temple. But, they had just finished their last tour of their whole assignment and he was making his way to the car to go home when he spotted me. He went to the wrong parking lot or we wouldn't have seen eachother. We may also not have met if I hadn't seen Kay Powell or taken the ride on the electric cart (something I am usually loathe to do.)

In the reception area I also saw Cindy Baron and John and Jamie Harmon.

Farewell to Paradise

The San Clemente vacation is coming to an end. Yesterday a bit of depression hit me and the rest of the clan. Everyone is somewhat testy with dreadful anticipation.

I rode a total of 322 miles in 10 days of riding. Yesterday Leslie and I beat the best time that I had set with Fielding on the tandem. We averaged 18.3 mph for the 26 mile ride. She was a trouper. On Tuesday I had to yield to a tank and several ?Bradleys? at the tunnel on the Marine base. I saluted as they went by. Today I went past the sentry about 7 miles before turning around. The girls all enjoyed scanning for wild bunnies, squirrels and roadrunners once we got onto the Marine base.

Last Saturday after Jim Greenan left to take Jay to his hotel, he returned and literally dragged us out of our pajamas to get fondue at one of the uppity restaurants by the pier. We had a fun time. Afterward we walked to the end of the pier and oohed and aahed at the bioluminescent effects of the red tide in the water. It was especially cool when one of the fishermen would reel in their line.

By the late afternoon on Tuesday you could tell that a swell was hitting the coast. Sure enough we awoke on Weds morning to 4-6 foot surf. That meant we weren't going to be using the boards. But, I had some fun bodysurfing. However, I can tell I'm no longer 25 years old. I had to take it a little easy and not take as many risks as I used to. I played with Laney in the tide zone. She got attacked by a stray patch of man-eating kelp. No permanent injuries. She also almost got knocked down by a small tsunami wave that surprised her. She managed to outrun it. But, it looked like she was going to fall down a couple of times. It was quite entertaining for observers.

So on Thursday since the waves were still kinda big and scary for the novice surfers, we loaded everything on top the Explorer and took a trip down to Doheny. The kids enjoyed themselves. But, did not like the rocky bottom. Next time we need booties. I wore my sandals which helped a lot. But, they catch a lot of water when you are trying to bring your feet under you. I still managed to get a couple of cuts on my feet.

We will miss the sun and the sea breeze and the crepuscolo sul mare, the cool pleasant evening air. We will miss the "beach trees" that Laney starts spotting in Las Vegas in anticipation of our arrival. Hopefully we are refreshed enough to withstand the rigors of another year behind the plow.

Great! I can just see this getting duped and ending up all over the Web

Ailsa and Britty were walking on the pier. An older man stopped them and asked if they would take a picture with his son who just returned from Iraq. He's probably sending it back to his buddies so they can eat their hearts out.

The Doctrine of the Two Jays

We had some friends visiting us at the beach today, Jay and Jim Greenan. They have been friends of the Smiths for many years. I never met Jim (Jay's twin) until yesterday. After some time at the beach Laney came up to me and whispered a question, "Are there two Jays?" She had never encountered twins before. Jim was wearing a tee shirt that said "I'm the evil twin." At first, Laney was calling them "Jay one" and "Jay two."

Calling Wes Craven

Anyone who has driven I-15 in the area of Barstow knows what Lake Delores is, a failed attempt at a water park complete with a manmade lake for watersport exhibitions? For years I have though it would make a great setting for a horror movie.
Before they get the chance to fix it, take note of the painted inner and outer lines on the freeway in that area, at least the southbound lanes. They are not straight at all. I'd like to think they are crooked due to lots of seismic activity in that part of the Southwest. But, I don't believe that is the case. When I showed it to the family we were making jokes about a drunken painting crew or perhaps that is where they send the trainees to give them experience.

SC in the OC

Today was a very fun day at the beach. On the tandem ride this morning with Jensen we didn't go very fast. But, at one point we fell in with a group of 4 riders and stayed on their tail. When they figured out we were there they tried to up the pace to shake us off. But, they just succeeded in dropping the two slower riders and we stayed with the two leaders for a mile or two until we came to one of the sharp rises.
I took the big board down to the beach and used it for just a couple of minutes. Mostly the water skills are still there. But, some surfing specific muscles are not in shape.
I just sat on the sand for a while and played with Laney. She ended up putting sand all over me to make a sugar cookie.
Later I was walking down the beach and ran into Dori and Tyler Childs from family camp. We had a good time chatting with them. They had seen Ailsa and recognized her even though it has been about 4 years since they had seen her.
Laney is being quite adventurous and brave, going out in the waves fairly far. There has been a bit of a jellyfish infestation this year. I was trying to show one to Laney and it washed across her foot and stung her. At least she got to go see the cute lifeguards for some diluted vinegar treatment. Within 15 minutes she had forgotten about it and was back playing.

BoomDeeADa, BoomDeeADa BoomDeeADa, BoomDeeAy

We are leaving for our long awaited and cherished San Clemente vacation early tomorrow morning and the anticipation is killing us all. Yes, it will involve several hours each way trapped in the car with a bored Laney and crabby kids. I will probably eat myself silly to alleviate the boredom of the drive and fend off the drowsiness. We will be leaving around 5am. It's not unusual for us to get interested in some radio show or news story. In 2000 we went to Marin for Thanksgiving and spent a lot of time catching news of the Bush-Gore election fiasco. We have found "interesting" Art Bell programs to listen to on AM Coast to Coast. Once going to the Colorado River we spent much of the ride reading a website on my palm phone about some supposed time traveller we heard of on Art Bell. We made this trip down to Southern California a month ago on the morning of the London tube bombings and kept tuning in for updates on that story. Unfortunately, there is a stretch in between Saint George and Baker/Barstow where radio reception is very limited. Of course, that is also the most boring part of the trip where you really need something to keep from losing your mind. XM radio anyone? We once stopped in Baker when the world's tallest thermometer read 128 degrees. Yeah, but it's a dry heat.

We will likely arrive in San Clemente around 2pm. Lenore's parents and their brood left this morning and will make a stop probably in Primm, Nevada. However, we very well may make it to SC before they do. It is impossible for them to travel quickly. They make too many stops (long ones) and drive too slowly. Darrell always asks me about our drive and questions how we arrived so fast, with a reproving look in his eye. I remind him to do the math: a 680 mile trip doesn't have to take longer than 10 hours if you drive at 68 mph. Sometimes on these trips though you feel like the Clampetts coming west or Clark Griswold and family. It doesn't take long with our group for the car to develop a nice complement of trash and other lost and discarded objects. You can leave with the car sparkling clean. Soon the windshield is peppered with insect carcasses. Road grime covers the car like a bumper to bumper 100,000 mile warranty, and you feel like you are travelling in a Bolivian jalopy. Picture us hurtling down the deserted highway with our cruise control set on 80 and the lifeless body of aunt Edna strapped to the roof. I have the steering wheel firmly clutched between my agile knees while trying to choke down a sausage egg biscuit. "No, officer I am quite alert. Was I swerving?"

We are taking my bike and the tandem and will be putting some miles on them everyday. We will be borrowing some surfboards and picking up one we bought on ebay and hopefully doing some surfing everyday. We may even be going to San Onofre to do some surfing, depending on how much gumption we have. The hard part is going to be getting the kids to carry the boards down to the beach. During the two weeks we take turns making dinner for everyone. I expect we will cook twice. We usually make my yummy Carbonara one night. We plan on attending the open house for the Newport Beach LDS Temple on Monday 15 August. I may try to see a friend or two while we are there. But, for the most part, we stay in San Clemente, don't go sightseeing or do much shopping other than groceries. We just spend a lot of time at the beach relaxing. There is some sort of universal draw or appeal to the ocean and the sound of surf that is hard to quantify or describe. One of my favorite things to do in my teens and twenties was to stay in the water long enough to get really cold and then lie under the Sun and fall asleep. Then after awakening and shaking off the strong stupor of exhausted sleep, I would sit and lie right in the warm sand and just peer at the ocean. Watching a calm breezy sunset with your skin still tingling from the day's sunshine can be mildly spiritual.

Help I'm infected! My family is infected!

I have previously expressed disdain for "The O.C." Thinking it unworthy pap ala "Falcon Crest" or "Snots Landing" I haven't been drawn to watch it. One of my shallow, unsophisticated nieces (who will remain anonymous so as to protect her unsophistication, but whose name starts with a Brittany and ends with a Wilhelm) loaned a box DVD set of the show to Ailsa. Thus, I have been exposed. Strangely so far I find it not repulsive. I have never really liked Peter Gallagher before and wouldn't have chosen him to play a SoCal transplant from NYC who surfs every day before heading to his law office. I like him in the role alot. Also Benjamin McKenzie is somewhat mesmerizing with his Russell Crowe looks and his unobtrusive manner. And Mischa Barton is very watchable. I can't help but wonder if she could make the move to the big screen, not so sure. Still, so far the "class warfare" is quite overblown (Pittsburgh? Ew!), at least from my experience. Maybe to be more accurate the show should be called "The Newport."

Smelly Cat, What are they feeding you?

The addition of a new kitty to the household has our two older cats in a tizzy. Ruby and Maxine are about 13 years old and sisters/litter mates. We had some experience with trying to introduce a new female into this setup a couple of years ago. That's why we chose to get a male kitten. Ruby is old and fat and Maxine is as skinny as a rake and feeble. They don't really even like to tussle with each other anymore. Poor Dobby just wants so badly to join in cat games. At least he doesn't seem to be bothered when the grumpy older cats hiss at him and run off. He's only about two months old and all of 5 ounces at this point, about one sixth the size of the two older cats. He just keeps chasing them. Last night he was trying to engage Ruby and she was fleeing as best she could with her fat kitty utter swaying from side to side. She came into the master bedroom while we were watching TV and tried to obtain refuge on the nightstand. She failed miserably in attempting the jump. They are just so pathetic.

Go Dog Go! (In honor of Bastille day)

I had a great ride on my bike this morning, over to the 7th East/9th East artery and then south to the Park in Draper and back. I've done okay so far this year. It's a little hard to gauge since I've been riding half the time with the kids and Lenore on the tandem. Theoretically, we should be faster on the tandem. That is if the passenger,,, er stoker is putting out. So far Ailsa and Jensen haven't really been pulling their weight. But, I look back on when I was that age and I don't think I knew how to push myself physically either. They do seem to like it when we get going fast and put more effort into it then. But, if we aren't going fast enough they are just along for the ride.

Anyway, my best rides since I started paying attention last year have been in the 20-21 mph average range. So far this year I hadn't broken 20 mph average. I started riding later in the year. I'm probably carrying 10 more pounds than I need to be. I set out this morning to make 20 mph (see the workout log link on the left). If there is no wind the first half of this ride is always a little slower than the second half. It might be slightly uphill. If anything, it looks like it should be slightly downhill on the way out.

I'm not really a morning person. But, I've gotten up early enough times to know that it's usually the best time of the day in the hours just after sunrise and just before sunset. In the morning the air is calm and cool. There are fewer cars on the road. This route for the most part has very wide bike lanes on either side and is relatively flat. The flatness of the road and the lack of wind are essential for a big rider such as I am. Any hill or wind makes someone who is 6'4" 200 lbs pay dearly. It is very normal to see lots of riders using this street in the morning. Every once in a while I will pull alongside someone, strike up an acquaintance and ride together for a while.

This morning I just started out by stepping it up a notch. I stood in the pedals a little to accelerate a little faster and then also stayed down in the drops more, so as to present a smaller aerodynamic profile. It always takes a while for my heart rate to get up to speed. But, by 10 minutes into the ride it was over 160 and only dropped below that when I had to stop at a light. I didn't see it go any higher than 179 which is actually 7 points more than my theoretical maximum. But, I've gotten it up to 185 in the recent past. I tried to keep the pace going up the slight rise south of Fort Union. I was making a lot of lights green which is good.

Although my cyclocomputer doesn't count time when the wheels aren't turning it is still inefficient to have to stop and re-accelerate. Last year I did a test where I figured that at a 20 mph pace over one mile stopping and starting "costs" about 7 seconds. I started counting everytime I had to stop and giving myself a 7 second handicap so I could get a better idea of my real pace and effort. After a couple of months using this system I did another study and found that it worked out to be on average 5 seconds per mile of distance when I ride this route. So now I typically don't have to count stops, just factor in the handicap based on my mileage. Since I was making a lot of lights green I decided to count stops this morning so I could be more accurate than normal. I only had to stop nine times for a total handicap of a little over a minute.

I see lots of riders going north on the other side of the street. I see the girl who rollerblades every day to work or the gym. I pass some construction at 78th south. My time is 17 minutes at the 5 mile mark. As I near Dimple Dell creek and the Lone Peak Skate Park around the 20 minute mark, I'm starting to tire. I feel my pedal cadence is maybe too fast. So I try a higher gear. But, I'm still unable to maintain the speed I want. So, I allow myself to back off a notch for a short while. Maybe I should have had some breakfast instead of just a handful of vitamins and chondroitin for my knee.

It's always a little refreshing as you pass the creek in Sandy to feel the cooler air from the respiration of the trees there. I often notice the radiant heat (from the Sun shining on the left side of my body) when I pass the cooler air around the creek. I imagine a space body like the Shuttle or a Satellite being warmed on the one side by the Sun while the other side is -100 degrees. Past the Park now where the road definitely starts a slight decline into Draper. I pass some more construction after 106th South where they have laid some new asphalt and are working on a new strip mall. There is a large flagpole here, not enough wind to cause a furl. Still down in the drops as I maintain 25 mph over the RR tracks and check my time, 27 minutes. "Birds Fly" is the song in my earphone connected to the MP3 player. I pass into the older quiet neighborhood around the Draper Park where I have seen Richard Wenger walking his dog a couple of times recently. He used to live in our ward. I have waved and said "hi." But, I don't think he has figured out it is me.

I check my time again and then turn my computer to distance mode so I can make sure I get a full 10 miles before I turn around. Approaching the 12.5 mile mark I notice a cyclist stopped on the side of the road ahead. He is moving a large rock out of the bike lane. I pass him as he is getting back up to speed. He is riding a Softride Triathlon bike. I have seen him a couple of times on the other side of the road. He is young, maybe 15-20 younger than me, and very fit looking. At the next light we stop and exchange a few words. When the signal changes he accelerates away expecting to leave me completely behind. I grab onto his rear wheel for a ride. I manage to stay in his slipstream for maybe 2 miles at speeds around 27-29 mph. My heart rate goes to 179 and stays for some time. I finally lose contact with him. But, then catch him again at a light. Finally, he pulls away for good and I only have the goal of trying to reel him in again. Still, I am making good time. I get the lights green all the way through Fort Union and also at 6600 south. Fifty three minutes at the 18 mile mark. With my hands on the drops I stand on the pedals up the last little rise over Cottonwood Creek in Murray. I am very tired and winded. But, I know I made my goal because I am well under an hour's time.

Our Fourth

We did a family "ride bike" at about 9am on the Jordan River Parkway Trail. This is a very nice facility that runs from at least 33rd South down to about 85th South. Even at the time we went it was pretty well populated. Sometimes people don't realize that it's best to stop off the main trail. We did 12 miles. With the tandem pulling the trailer it is pretty long and makes for some interesting maneuvering at times. It was a great day for the fourth. The sky was clear and it didn't get too hot or too windy. We came home from the ride and made our own sausage biscuit and egg breakfast. We went to Leslie's about 3pm and went swimming. I mostly just laid on the inflatable mat. Laney was too chicken to do much in the water. I think we need to let her have her floaty suit back for some of the time. I had purchased a small $20 set of fireworks at Albertson's and at about 9:30pm, back at home, mostly in our pajamas we set them off. Laney was quite enthralled and thrilled with it all. We tried to set off several at a time and only mildly succeeded. The best was five Piccolo Petes at one time (Yes, they still call them that.) And there was much giggling and joviality. I think on the 24th of July we might try to do something imaginative with them.

Dissent and Diversity are Healthy?

I have heard it said many times lately that it is healthy, perhaps even preferable, to have opposing points of view, that uniformity of thought and belief is "bad." Rubbish! Does that mean you would allow devils into Heaven just so both side are represented? If something is wrong it is wrong. Period.

We are redefining everything. Eminent Domain, the Constitution, the Family, Religious Freedom, Free Speech and the effects can be seen everywhere for anyone with eyes to see.

Making copies for incidental non-commercial church or home use is permitted

Final Version of Hymn written for the Hillcrest Ward.

I should go out and honk the horn, It's Independence Day

Speaking of the Fourth of July...

I think the most fun I had at a family fireworks display was the day after we got married in 1986. We were all over at my sister Kim's house. Ed had bought a large assortment of fireworks. I'm not one for dragging things out. We set them all up in a big tightly packed group, lit off one and let the spark shower light the others. It was great fun.

When I was a kid, one of our backyard neighbors was a very large lot that had some greenhouses near us and beyond that there was some land that was au naturel. Of course in the summer around Fourth of July it was mostly tallish dried weeds. Being young pyrotechnically savvy boys we liked to buy "Piccolo Pete's" (a small firework that made a lot of noise). If you took some pliers to the end of the fuel mix and squeezed it good the thing would blow up at the end of its whistling. A couple of times we took these, removed the base, attached them to a stick and made bottle rockets out of them. Real bottle rockets and firecrackers were illegal. Once one of these flew into that neighboring lot into the dry weedy area. I think it was only by divine intervention and much earnest prayer that we didn't start a fire.

My first Fourth in Italy was not without some poignancy. Of course we had to work and of course the Italians had no idea it was Independence Day. At the end of our Day about 9:30pm the four of us Elders stood and sang the National Anthem, all verses (the last verse is the best). The neighbors must have thought we were nuts.

Laney's Scary Birthday Present 

Buon Compleanno

It was Laney's Birthday Yesterday. She turned five years old. She was so excited. There were lots of presents. We let her open half in the morning. During the day while I was at work she managed to persuade three more out of Lenore. So when I got home there were only four left to open. This picture shows her wearing a "dress up" swimming mask and webbed hands for summer water fun. This was gift from the Puggas (Grandparents) in Guam. She looks like the maiden from the Black Lagoon. If she dares to take this toy to San Clemente for our family vacation later in the Summer, I'm sure none of us will admit any consanguinity at all. "Mommy, nobody will play with me." "Go away, little girl." Seriously, Mom and Dad it's a great gift. Did you keep the receipt?

Meanwhile Lenore was inflating some other swimming play toys. There's the Roy Scheider signature model imitation Great White Shark inflatable. Lenore is looking very pale in the face. "Honey, it says right here, CAUTION: Manual inflation of your -Great White Shark Floaty and Plush Toy- presents a Hyperventilation risk. Not recommended for nursing mothers or even wimpy Dads. Disclaimer: If you do not know how to swim, (what are you doing so close to the water?) this toy is not meant as a life saving device. Do not attempt to sue us. Our Law team is bigger than yours.

We had Pudge Brothers Pizza for our family celebration of Laney's Birthday (her request). We are having another celebration with the Smiths tomorrow night. This is the beginning of the 4th of July Weekend. We will undoubtedly use these toys at Leslie's pool on Monday and eat ourselves silly as well. Our 19th anniversary is Sunday so we will be going out to eat on Saturday. Next weekend we are taking a four-day weekend to go to California for Tamsyn's wedding. I had made some good inroads into losing the handful of pounds that I needed to. I don't expect to make a lot of progress again for a couple of weeks.

New Kitty on the Block

We picked up a new kitty today. A male marmalade tabby. It's really for Laney's birthday in a couple of days. Maxine is accepting him okay. But, Ruby is not being nice. I'm no longer the only male in the household. So far we like the name Dobby the best.

We went up to Preston, Idaho today for the Goff family reunion. They were also having the Napoleon Dynamite festival. As we were leaving town we stopped into the RexKwonDo shop to buy some American flag pants for Sifu. We also wanted a shirt that said, "Bow to your Sensei!" But they didn't have any. At a local market we bought a load of caffeine free Mountain Dew for a very good price.

The drive was the normal frustration with lots of drivers camping out in the passing lane and making random decisions that don't benefit themselves and only cause consternation for others. We started talking about the type of people we want to associate with in the hereafter. There are times when I really don't care as long as they don't vex me.