Friday, December 18, 2009

and now my christmas thought

Sometimes I get lost in the details of the story I tell, I will try to stay on task.

As we rolled around the the dirt roads along the big Blackfoot river, we past creek after creek, and canyon after canyon.

The big Blackfoot feeds into the Clark fork river, these rivers and others are the drainage for a glacial bed that only a few thousand (8 to 40 depending on which geologist you talk to) was still a mile thick over what was then an open plane. but these rivers, the Clark fork in particular and the creeks that feed it dug out the canyons and the valley's giving shape and variety to the landscape. This process continues to this day.

As my dad drove on I realized that lost creek must be a way's off. We had passed every one that I knew and the gully's off the canyons were beginning to become dry.

As the tributaries became fewer and the steams became smaller there were fewer and fewer people fishing along them .

Finally we were alone and my dad parked the truck at the bottom of a dry gulch. Regal didn't wait for the tail gate and was sniffing and investigating he was very excited to be here, he kept looking back at my dad as if he was anticipating him to pull out a shotgun, he was ready to hunt!

My dad said" Not today Boy!" dropped the tail gate again and told Regal to "jump in and stay", he did.

He gave me a fishing pole grabbed his equipment and told me to follow him as he walked into the woods surrounding a dry gully.

As we walked he told me that he and the dog were hunting in this area last fall and came across a "lost creek" and he didn't think anyone else knew about it.

"How does a creek get lost?" He gave me a fairly detailed explanation about bedrock, soil types, underground aquifers, and artisan springs, but it came down to; The water gushes out of the ground and makes a pretty stout creek for a mile or so then slowly disappears in to the soil again leaving no evidence below that it is there.

"And there is fish in it?" "yep" some big old cutthroats and two different beaver dams along the mile or so that it is above ground.

Thinking about the fact he left the dog in the truck and glancing at the big 45 colt on his belt, I asked; " Any bears? " "Yes son..." His voice softened a little at the tension in mine.

He reminded me that making a little noise to be sure they knew we were there, would move them out and we would be fine. "If we don't surprise them.".

He would then call Regal up, after we had been there for fifteen minutes or so. "We didn't want the dog tangling with a bear." I knew if he chose between a fifty dollar ticket and the "best bird dog he ever had" it would mean; dead bear.

He through a few rocks and hollered a time or two. And about ten minutes later he pointed up to a saddle in the ridge above us and said. "There he is." A big bear with long silver fur just across his back, galloped across to the next canyon with out looking back. Dad whistled and five minutes later Regal was leaning against my hip.

We walked on.

He took me to the first beaver dam set me up with a bobber and a dozen worms and said to me and the dog."Stay out of the creek if you go swimming you will regret it." he paused like he had something else to say. Instead he just smiled shook his head and walked on up stream.

side note: my nick name was " the fish". I had taught my self to swim when I was three.
Staying out of the water, was not in my contract.....

90 seconds later I was naked in the seventy degree air temperatures,
then the dog (who decided to keep his collar on) and I jumped into the pool, off the bank.

I had never felt pain quite like that........

In the open Fields with banks of dark brown earth and even in the rivers the water was tolerable for a few minutes or more.

But this water had been under ground for years and was just 10 degrees above freezing.

My swimming career was over.

Future generations of my children collectively gasped in sympathetic pain, and wondered who might be there father now that my lower extremities unable to over come gravity, had to remain in the water while I hastily waded out.

The dog who routinely retrieved goose in the fall, smashing ice as he went, mumbled something about me being a sissy and lay down on the bank next to me as I gasped for air.

I could here my dad laughing heartily about two hundred yards away...... When he could contain himself. He told me to "get dressed and walk it off....."

As I walked past him I asked if I could go upstream "You stay out of the water?" he asked looking down at me. " Yes sir." i said kicking a stone with my boot. "OK then"

The silver shadow followed along.

I walked up and as I did the stream got bigger and bigger.
and then I came to the spring that was set in the confluences of two BIG gullies; almost canyons.

There water pushed from the ground clear and so cold that it hurt your hand after just a few seconds of submersion.

As the big dog drank heavily from it, I walked twenty yards above the roaring water and stood on dry ground. I walked farther up and soon couldn't even hear the rushing water. looking back at the trail that I came from, I found that it was so tangled with brush that you couldn't see any evidence of the creek. as I said before the stream disappeared at the bottom, the beaver dams pooled the water in such a place that it would seep back into the ground from whence it came.

The ground literally drank it up before it could be seen from the road.

This to me was amazing.
To a seven year old it was pure magic

This is my point. every year the malls, and the stores, and the churches, and the tabernacles, and the conference center, become absolutely filled and over flowing with the spirit of Christmas.

This spirit which is the light of Christ, sorrows at a family in need, or other sadness's,
and joys at the triumph of the skies while focusing on the little town of Bethlehem as still we see it lie.

In most people that I know, this spirit last much longer than Christmas. some not as much.

This spirit can become dammed in a place where perhaps it seeps back below and waits for a confluence of season and reason to be.

We are all individuals and each circumstance has singular condition. But if we could give our self a gift..... would we try to make subtle changes necessary to keep this spirit alive and above ground. That would be pure magic.

Let you light so might catch on....

Merry Christmas.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

an indirect christmas thought.

When I was a boy we lived in Missoula Montana, my dad and I went fishing often.

The summers there were designated as the two months of the year that; "It most likely wouldn't snow in the valley's".

Fishing for my father was more of a compulsive way of life than anything, and it really bugged my mother.... so he had a plan.

If he stood on a fence rail on the west side of our two acre's on the edge of town and looked across the open fields that stretched out to the Blue Mountain. you might see a few boys stalking the creeks that watered the stock in those fields, just like wild Indians. (A few of them were Salish and/or Kootenai tribal members.)

Near one of those half naked boys would be a big silver dog, his name was Regal. He was a wiemeriner, my dads hunting companion, and my shadow. If dad wanted to find me he would call for the dog with a high pitched whistle, (same whistle that calls Sam nowadays) but Regal wouldn't come...he wanted to go to my dad, but he wouldn't leave me.

He would howl and bark and make a fuss, until I was invited to leave the hunting party!

So I would head home 3/4 of a mile across the openfeilds and streams.

At the fence Regal would jump over and run to the garage, following him I would find my dad loading fishing gear into the front of his 55 ford pickup. dad dropped the tail gate and the big dog bounded in to the back.

"Where ya goin' dad?" I asked "Lost Creek, Don't you want to go?" he replied. (hmm. lost creek never been there.... sounds mysterious and scary....) "Sure dad sounds fun." My assignment was to go in the house get dressed "properly" and tell my mom that "I wanted dad to take me fishing." and be back before she could ask to many questions...... She frowned but didn't ask...

The youngest child has such jedi powers.....

I jumped into the back of the truck sat down, near the front, in the middle of the big spare tire. The big dog lay next to me as he had done my whole life. he snored while I scratched his ears and ribs, and watched the countryside roll by.

what has this to do with Christmas? I'll have to finish the story tomorrow or the next day because anatomy lecture final looms like the abominable snow creature (Rudolf)

Sunday, November 22, 2009

as I set in the UVU library,...... a month ago,..... with my brain smoking... I looked out the window and watched the sun set. it was a good one. what I like about a sensory experience like sunsets and really cool walks in the mountains, and even stuff like a jujitsu match (when i was young enough to do that) or a computer game of tetris, is that for a few moments my senses and intellect and spirit are focused on one thing.

The colors, the shadows, the details, and the generalities, of this one thing that I experience, for even a few moments allow me to unfocus on everything else, for that same few moments.

In that few moments I am able to rest.

So I decided to write down some of these things that give me rest from the intensity that seems to follow me in all that I do.

One of my study partners saw my growing list and asked me if I was creating a
"best things in life" list.

he isn't LDS and and thought it was a Mormon thing, I explained what I was doing and as we talked about it, I expanded my criteria and he told me a few things that would be on his list. and the list grew further when I asked a few people randomly, to finish the sentence. "The best thing in life is..."

The following is from that list, so far ten people have contributed.

The criteria is this "Name one good thing that you love to see, or do, or know about, or participate in, that fills your mind and soul. ........finish the sentence ""The best thing in life is....""."

Going for a walk with my children....

Talking with my wife...

Watching a newly engaged couple treat each other like a precious treasure....

Watching an elderly couple treat each other like a precious treasure....

Listening to great music late at night in a comfortable chair.

A song that "takes you back when."

Serving God without reservation.

Sacrament meeting.

Creating something.

Learning something.


Father's and son's outings.

Fresh snow and a springer spaniel....-that was mine-

Home teaching a widow.

Building something really well.

A football game where both teams play to their potential,
nobody gets hurt, it is close all the way through,
and your team wins in the end.

Fresh air after a storm.

Sleeping in your own bed after a long trip.

Playing baseball with Friends in the spring.

Going to church with your parents.

whats on your list?

Friday, November 13, 2009

just a story about some one i knew a long time ago.

This a story I have been thinking about telling for a long time now, i have tried to pare it down as much as possible, I probly should have had scott help me,

This story is as true as they come.

Kneeling in a fifty five ford 3/4 ton truck he had been four days on the road with his dad and his little sister. They had just dropped her off and was now heading home. He looked across the freeway in Anaheim California and for the first time in his life made a wish, he had never made a wish for himself before....... He felt guilty and a little anxiously sick while doing it......

He was eight years old,and he was different....

Some people are different because, there is something different about them,

Other's become different because circumstances, as they often do, create an adaptation which seems strange to others around them.

When his first sister was born, she had something wrong with her hands and feet. The toes and fingers were not completely formed. This seemingly small deformation became the focus of his families life. She required surgery to separate the digits and to try to form usable fingers and toes. This took lengthy stays in the hospital and required both parents to work so that they could pay for these treatments.

His mom had changed..... she felt guilty as parents in those situations often do, this was the late nineteen fifty's. most people knew little about developing fetuses.
there were no sonograms, genetic testing and very few obstetricians. Most doctors were just M.D.'s working in hospitals and family practice offices. They listened and poked and
came-a-runnin' when the time was come.

So no one could tell mom definitively what had happened during development of this child to cause this problem....So mom blamed herself. She was angry and demanding and a little boy became responsible to help her. and when she went to work......He did even more. He was brighter and stronger than most kids years older, he taught himself to read while sitting next to his sisters crib listening to her breath he learned by observation how to position her in the crib so that she would more easily breath and when she opened her eye's he was there and then he would read aloud.
He didn't know all the words so he filled in what he didn't know from his imagination and asked mom or dad what the words were when they got home.... He was four then.

In the years between that day and this he had read stories to his little sister and in that time another sister was born, sassy and bright and doing all she could to help, she listened to the stories too.

They read stories about knights and dragons, peter pan and the pirates, the red badge of courage, Rikki tikki tavi, and sleeping beauty. Cousins who lived nearby would come and sit on the floor as the stories were told. On Sunday when Disney came on the T.V. one cousin might say to the other as the program ended.....That his stories were better.

The health of his sister improved over the years and he kept on as her guardian angel.

Starting school is tough, but when you are physically different, it can be hell. Whatever happened he was there to cushion the blow and shield her. This cost him in baseball and kickball games and the social ties that make life easier for a boy..

But he knew his job and stuck to it. Like a solder, which is what he became as a man, his little sister's personal army. There were a few little boys, who had a cruel edge that payed the price for crossing the line. He learned how to handle a bully long before he helped to crush Saddam Hussein's war machine. Sometimes great tools are formed in small forges.

His dad told him one Saturday morning that he would go with him on a trip, more surgery for his little sister.
To Shriner's hospital in southern California.

He thought about Sunday night television and Disneyland and was excited to be in the same area that this place of wishes and dreams was. But he knew his job and would stick to it. since he was four he would travel with his Dad, as the little sister was taken to different hospitals in the western united states for each new surgery to give her a better chance at a normal life.

They stayed at the homes of relatives and ate at diners and the trip was full of reading stories and looking out the window while his sister slept with her head in his lap.

After three days they were there, and this time she was staying. and they were going home the next day. the boy gave the nurse the book he had been reading her...Aesop's fables.... he told her to read it to her if she cried. the nurse blinked quickly once or twice, this little boy had talked to her as if he was the girls father. and commented to him on how big his hands were as she took the book from him,.... "had work to do" he said.... It was a phrase he had heard his father and grand father say when they had received a smiler compliment.

they spent the night at a cousins house that he had never met. out of curiosity he had asked them. "where was Disneyland in this big state...." the reply... "twelve mile down the road...just past the big orange fields"..." you guys gonna go?" ..."ain't got time" his dad said. "got to be back to work on Monday...."

the next day they lit out right after breakfast.. dad had figured how far they had to get by lunch. and they pulled on the freeway, wound er' up to 55 miles an hour and began to chew miles.....
his son opened the book in his lap and didn't look at it but instead out the window....he saw him lay the book down without turning the page down. and kneel up on the seat as high as he could go. when the orange fields gave way to the biggest parking lot he had ever seen. as he glanced at his son, and something happened to him......

it was like a young lifetime of selfless service, flashed through his mind...........

"hell" he thought, "it was just a damn job".........

and pulled off the the only concrete road he had ever driven on.....

"Son?" he asked. "what do they have at this Disney place? and i ain't ridin' no tilty whirl....."

The boy who hadn't often smiled in six years didn't stop for the next twelve hours

Sunday, November 1, 2009

another thought of Tay.

another year has past in Taylor's life, i am in continuous awe of his ability to adapt and learn.
he is so different that i was at his age, all of my strengths none of my weakness

i love the way he can get anything from his mom.......she is a sucker for his boyish grin and shaggy mop (but he will also do as he is asked in every instance)

i love the way he can step between Kate and Beck when they rage at one another and get them laughing and soon forget the object of conflict.

i am grateful to have him as a home teaching companion,'s funny that the teenage girl in a home with some difficult issues has never missed a home teaching visit with him along.

i love that he and Gabber may argue over the bathroom and the last muffin, but she knows he will be equal to any fear she may have at home or at school, and loves him for it.

he always seems to know what to do, wherever he goes the burden for others gets lighter, the mood gets lighter, and when he looks back where he has been every door is still open and the light is on....

i have dealt with men and boys of every stripe, and i still haven't met one quite like him.

keep going son.
love dad.

Monday, October 19, 2009

gabby for president.

My baby's fourteenth birthday just got over,

I love her.... most the time because she is just like her mother, in all the best ways. our family is filled with "gabby stories". but there are other reasons to love her, i'll tell you a few....

She sings with a voice like sun warmed honey, she has taught herself to play the piano. and the guitar, she writes music prolifically.

Did you know she has taken up archery and in about twenty five hours of practice improved remarkably. she went this summer to having trouble predictably hitting a 30 inch wide target, to putting five arrows on a target that I could cover with my hand at the same distance.

She puts on this act like she is self centered and a little arrogant with her sisters and brother but none of them have served so often and with such kindness at a nearby senior care center, as she has.

Most every thing she does, that is so Christlike, for some reason she keeps secrete and I can't pretend to know why, it is one of the enigma's that decorate her personality.

The story I will tell you of today is one not often spoken of in our family, but it is important nonetheless and might further illuminate my youngest daughter.....

About two years ago she went to work with me one winter day, it was probably Christmas break. She wanted to earn some money for presents she wanted to buy for Friends and family. so she came to clean up the job site and help in any way she could, she is very good help.

As we headed home it was after dark and before I got in the truck I tested my blood sugar to make sure I was well , i was, and we began driving south from salt lake city to home. as sometimes happens on wintery days in Utah it was stormy and snowy. Traffic was moving at a crawl so that a one hour trip turned into three hours. In that time my blood sugar dropped.

I didn't realize I was in trouble until we were caught between exits and the slow progression of traffic was hindering our ability to get off the road and find something to fix the situation, it quickly went from bad to worst to horrible...

as I drifted off I dimly remember her carefully and skillfully telling me what to do to pull off the road... She lacked the strength to take over so she somehow got me to do what was necessary to pull off safely. I don't remember 99% of it I woke up in an ambulance along side the road.

But I do remember a twelve year old TELLING paramedics exactly what was wrong with me and how to fix it, they didn't listen to her at first but when one of them couldn't figure out how to operate a glucometer that they had. She retrieved mine from the truck and showed them.

Then they listened to her. She never backed down and inch. I woke up to my twelve year old barking orders at some very sheepish blue shirted EMT's...Not knowing I was mostly awake, I heard one of them wispered to the other

"jees that little girl is gonna take over the freakin' world."

With in ten minutes I was back and fully functioning....She was a little proud of herself . So was I.

My weakness is the bane of my existence. i never come out of a low with out feeling humiliated and stressed.

She and I have had some epic arguments, but she has never mentioned that day or my debt to her.

I told you that to tell you this.

she is special,



and possessing the heart of a lion.

She is what is best in both sides of our family.

Monday, September 28, 2009

this is a paper i just wrote for my organic chemistry class and i am wondering if this is a s interesting as i think it is.

for me school is about lerning something new and since i can't bring you to anatomy with me
don't get me wrong, cadavers are cool for their educational value, but i wouldn't describ one as fun. and they are not part of common experience, but this is then again mabye i am a nerd at heart.
chem 1110 sect 601
I started off reading an article from scientific American written on august 25, 2009. The article starts off by posing the question, ”can oil be recycled?” I guess you have to ask your self. “Why would you want to recycle oil?”. It seems like the presumption and political orientation of our culture is that oil is a bad thing and not “good for the planet”. Then why would you want to reuse something that is “bad” to start with. For one thing I don’t believe in man made global warming.
I don’t believe mankind has anymore destructive potential to this planet then a small benign rash poses to an adult human being. When the “evidence” provided as proof goes beyond observances molded to fit a popular political modality or if the financial security of the scientist studying climate change was not linked to their success in finding man made causes for this macro meteorological phenomena, I would be more inclined to join in.

That being said the reason to explore this subject for me is; I hate waste and needless environmental damage. Putting this stuff in landfills or into the water table IS BAD.
Our little corner of the world will be altered for at least as many years as it takes to be broken down by natural processes and that is not necessary. This brings us to the substance involved, used motor oil. Whether you’re aware of it or not, oil as a lubricant is involved in almost every aspect of your life. We as a society have become dependant on both tremendous machines and small ones. They are used to feed us, protect us, transport us, and deliver our every convenience. These machines, and what makes them run well are central to our lives and culture. But these machines have needs as well, fuel and lubrication.

According to the New York Times, as found in an article written on Aug 29th 2008,
The state of Utah had at that time 2.7 million registered vehicles, if you look at this simple data you could make a educated guess at the amount of used oil produced in a year in our state. I will apply this data to myself then extrapolate the remainder.

I own a 2000 ford f 150 pick up, it is now 2009 and in those nine years I have driven 256,121 miles, or 28,457 miles per year, if you assume I drive to fast and too much, you could reasonably cut my miles to just 60% of what was actually driven and round that off to 17,000 miles. Lets just say that this is an average road way contribution for these 2.7 million cars. That means realistically I change my oil 3 times a year as do the other car owners. This would have a waste oil production of 5 quarts per oil change times three times per year times 2.7 million cars.

Number of quarts: 40.5 million
Number of quarts in a gallon 4
Number of gallons in a barrel of oil 42

So we have 241,000 barrels of oil in Utah alone that has to go somewhere, but where?
Please bear in mind we haven’t considered commercial diesel trucks in this rumination.
Consider for a moment what California’s production of used oil must be.

In western Pennsylvania in a town called Monaca in Beaver county there is a new small refinery that has just been completed. The Pittsburg Tribune-Review, published an article in 2007 talking about this plant just being completed, and that would as it’s purpose re-refine used oil. It was built on a former steel mill site at a cost of 34 million dollars. (Don’t get hung up on the price it cost between 35 and 39 million dollars for one mile of four lane freeway in an urban area in the state of Michigan according to Mich. DOT)

This plant takes up twenty acres, and on this site 35 to 40 people will go to work re-refining used oil from the Pittsburg area and the average pay for these workers will be 20.00/hr for that they will be making between 100,000 and 150,000 tonnes of re-refined oil products in a year. Why is the small production and building size important? Because these are plants built on a small scale with small environmental impact and provide excellent pay for workers in the areas in which they can be built. The best part is that it required no government grant.

That’s right, no government help and therefore cost the public (you) nothing…..think about that. When can you do something effective and beneficial for the environment, the public, and for the development of business, without a sweaty politician trying to convince someone that he/she deserves the credit…amazing.
The process is this; you collect the dirty oil and first examine it for inappropriate food stock and remove it. You then remove water by a dehydration process. The next step is to then heat it to between 700 and 1100 degrees Fahrenheit while placing it in a vertical column and submitting it to a vacuum which will cause the different components to separate themselves vertically in the column by density. At this point you remove the first product that is useful, which is an asphalt flux which gathers at the bottom of the tube in the vacuum distillation phase
It is stripped off and sold for roads and roofing. Also in this phase you extract lube oil distillates and gas oil. Gas oil is used as refinery fuel. It can also be used for the heating of homes or be converted into other types of fuel.
At the completion of this process the lube oil is put through a series of hydro treating reactors to infuse hydrogen back into the organic carbon molecules and also to simplify them making them more viscous. With this final process you have created new base oil to be blended to make all related products for lubrication, hydraulics and coverants.
I spoke to a chemical engineer of my acquaintance and he told me that the industry doesn’t trust the re-refined oil products for very fine applications, due to the near perfect chemical consistency required for those applications, but for simple and general applications they work the same as oil refined from virgin, out of the ground stock.
The resultant yield of the re-refining process on one unit of used motor oil is as follows
Lube oil 71%
Fuels 5%
Asphalt 14%
Water 10%
Currently approximately 10% of used oil is recycled
There are other chemical considerations, the most important of which is sulfur content but that can be controlled in the processing and mixing phases during the production of the gas oil and the base oil.
There are actually better cheaper ways to process used motor oil, including,
Hydro-cracking, and the use of bacteria to catalyze fuels. I even read about a fellow named Ramachandra in India that was working on a way to produce fuel oil directly from an algae that was called a diatom.. Pretty cool stuff. But I’m not ready for all that, but it was interesting to learn about this subject, I had no idea.
In learning about this I have found other articles about unused reclaimable resources, and now it bugs me to think about the billions of unused Liters of methane rolling through our sewer systems, we could easily make propane out of that.…. Like I said I hate waste.
I apologize for the length of this report, please believe me, there was an enormous amount of interesting and informative material that I left out. I think this is the minimum I could have done.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

one funny thing

as i walk the hall of UVU I meet people and stuff happens. As I think about some of the happenings and the way they came about, they are more funny than remarkable.

Humor happens....... It just like Pasteur muffins. (left by cows)

You're walking across a Field which has no other large mammals in it, the grass is knee high

All of a sudden you become keenly aware that you have either discovered mutable earth, capable of arbitrarily varying its density and viscosity, or you have personal empirical evidence that a cow has been in the vicinity with in the hour.... (ewwe! maybe a half hour)

This isn't necessarily the kind of humor that is found at Utah's second largest university, but the funny stuff has an equal ability to astound and amaze....For instance;

A week or so back: I was in an open lab in anatomy and in a room designed for 40 people, there was about seventy five...... with standing room only...even for the cadavers.....that's not the funny part.....

a few days before this, during our scheduled lab, we had a few moments where we were alone as a class.

Someone brought up the subject of organizing study groups, OK it was me..

I had looked at the blanched faces as the reality of the work load and curriculum was making its self known to us. Then some how I heard my self say "lets get our study groups figured out"

First thing, I know nothing about study groups and how to organize them, so I prodded a few people into action and we got moving.

Some how my group ended up with allot of people (15) and the labs were very crowded so we decided that we would all wear the same kind of name tag,

The plan was; as we slithered through the mass of other students we could find others, who were working on similer tasks and shared some of the same assignments and help each other....are you laughing yet? No wait it gets better.

On the first night we did this. I had the name tags. someone came in late and asked "who has the name badges" one of the other members pointed to me and said.;

"That big guy, you know PAPA BEAR."

In my mind I did on of those stop and stair moments and I said in my mind "whaaat!"

I don't know how to spell it, but this word is used when your kid tells you that they have wrecked the car or something....what you do is pronounce the "wh" softly and then draw the "a" sound slightly up and louder and finally you bite of the "t" like you were tearing it off the sentence.... but this frightens kids like a bird looking into the eyes of a cobra.

This effectively gets their attention, but like I said, I had thought that i had only said it in my mind...... Unfortunately it leaked out.......

As I looked narrowly at her trying to ascertain if I had in fact heard , what I thought I had heard
every one in the group looked back and fourth between us, wondering what would happen next.

She gave me the deer in the headlights look knowing that she had some how stepped on a pasture muffin......she said

"Somebody told me that was your nick name or something..."(shrugging of shoulders and a timid smile)

in this open lab there were several young people who know me, one of these was a girl who effectively grew up in my house as a weekend guest and consumer of the delicate waffles which on special days of the week appear as if they were magic, on the kitchen counter, these delicacies are consumed voraciously by Friends of kids. And by friends of friends of kids on a good day..

she is an TA in the class. and I looked across the room at Becca, my daughter with five helpful study partners (all male). so I wondered if this might be the source.... some kind of joke they had played on me.

But this isn't the funny part yet.

She asked if she had offended me? But she thought it was a good nick name....

then I remembered a line from a movie I saw once.

I folded my arms across my chest lowered my brow staring at her and in a calm ,even, and low tone said;

" You may only call me that when I am wearing a broad rimmed felt hat and a fur coat while driving my fusia Cadillac....."

She looked terrified for a moment and paused as if considering something then asked me.....

"Do you really do that?"

The entire side of the room laughed and one of the older ladies whispered to her;

"No he doesn't sweetie."


now that's funny.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

something that sets on my desk.

About ten years ago I picked up this little nick nack at a yard sale.

It has set on my bathroom counter, in my truck, and now sits on my desk.

I have always thought it would be cool to find something of great worth at an auction or a yard sale....

It has taken ten years but I think it has started to sink in with me, and has become something of incalculable worth to me and my outlook on life.

Every time I want to run away from school, and shout at the top of my lungs,


I think of what it says and pick up my back pack and head to lab.

Surprisingly that shouting thing has happened twice this week in the hall of flags.... (the second one wasn't me;-)

Anyway.... I don't say this for sympathy,
a person can be told all kinds of good things about them self ,but you gotta feel and know it.

I'm feeling it.
I'm working on knowing it.

this is what my little nick nack says....

press on

Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence.

Talent will not; nothing in the world is more common
than unsuccessful people with talent.

Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.

Education will not; the world if full of educated derelicts


Who ever made this Little nick nack........thanks.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Happy birthday to the queen of my universe TERRI!

even sam is down with the party!

You are more than half your life with me....dosen't the reilef society give you a lifetime acheivement award for such an acomplishment? .........?

At least a merit badge!

I loved our family party lastnight.

Thank you for the kindness you offered each of us i love you!

Friday, August 28, 2009


I found this picture.
Let me tell you what it means to me......
But first let me tell you of a discusion in our living room earlier this week.
Kate, her mom and I were sitting in the living room and Kate made a sarcastic comment at her mother that she was spoiled or something, as I was rubbing her feet, and asked her chidingly
" What do you do for dad?"
First thing, Terri was rubbing my shoulders as I was rubbing her feet, so I questioned my oldest daughters powers of observation, and I was so startled by the question that; I spoke to her of emotional support and commitment to a relationship, but I spoke in generalities and Terri deserved better than that, I think it hurt her feelings that I wasn't specific.
Which brings me back to this picture. It was taken on my 43 rd birthday. she was giving me a treat after she gave me a box full of gifts that she had bought and had given the kids to give to me.
Moms do that all the time and Dads too, but think of it; in order to spare my adolescent feelings about ageing she provided the consideration of an entire family. She thinks on the macro scale for every one who passes within her emotional circle.
By that I mean she sees the big picture in peoples life, while giving focused and effective attention to their basic needs and feelings.
If she calls you friend, or client, or family, or if she just met you, you may be as common as coal, as am i, but you will feel like diamond within her emotional circle.
That circle is huge.
I have never met, known, or even heard of, a person such as her.
Again back to the picture..... The gifts she gives are given so carefully , so humbly, and she loves you while you receive them.
No guile, no regret, just love.
Some other gifts she has given me....
The ability to trust women.
Healed wounds inflicted in the decades before we met.
A desire to listen to people i don't agree with.
I swear less when she is around.
She taught me to do more than know about the world around me, she made me want to live in it as well.
I was lost and without purpose after my mission was completed, there is no good thing in my life since that has not been tied to her.
Music and art tied to important events and happenings.
Goes fishing with me.
She has saved my life a dozen times over. (no kidding)
She accommodates my eccentricity. you know, like all the teenage boys who would no longer be producing carbon....unless she was distracting me with a treat.......grrrrrr..... but i am still watching them!
She may not be perfect, but even her imperfections are perfect for me.
So what do you think Kate?
Doesn't she deserve to be spoiled for a few minutes every day?
Yeah, i think so too.
but the gift is still mine.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

The GO dance, preformed by Sir Sampson! Sorry about the poor quality, this was recorded on my phone (this is Taylor) months ago and its not the best but you get the picture :D bye love you all!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

she hate's compliments and flowery speach.... so how about the truth

today is my twenty third anniversary,

I would not change one day of the last twenty four years.

I am so grateful for this woman who accepted me, puts up with me, and loves me.

Good and and bad she has always been there. she is incomparable, and ever gentle on my mind.

Friday, August 21, 2009

a question?

i have a question....

it is one of those "ranting freedom questions"

but please take this seriously, i would ask ;

how much of your personal income would you be willing to give the government, before it became to much for you to bear?

you know before you became angry, onerous, or even rebellious?

seriously how much of a percentage of your income are you willing to give them and at what point would it be to much...

don't get out your taxes from last year and try to figure it....

just gut much?

please everyone?

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

This weekend was a blur for me.


Driving can be fun, but it seldom is.
It is what you do for your family.

You were so worth it..

I have read a few blogs about the events already, I remember all of the events they spoke of.
I loved every minute of it all.

But I am thinking of two moments that were......... I can't think of a word to describe it......
I'll tell you of those moments, maybe you can help me think of a word.

On Saturday as we sat in the chapel I began to feel the influence of the spirit so powerfully, like being in general conference when those things you have been praying about and are concerned with are perfectly and succinctly addressed, but I wasn't concerned about any thing so I wondered why it was happening.

This feeling became more and more powerful culminating with Felicia's baptism.

Feelings like this for me usually come with some kind of inspiration, direction of action, or revelation.

But nothing like that happened... I think because I am not in her line of authority so there is nothing for me to know or do,

Having thought on it for a few days I have come to the conclusion that I was only being illuminated by the star burst of a beginning.

The birth of an eternal family?
The entrance into the kingdom of God, of a choice daughter, with things to do in the future, and a great husband to help her, maybe.... probably.

Later that night as Sister Landrum told us of the mission to which she had been called, of her experiences and quirky happenings....

When she told of her blessing to teach the gospel in the language of her mission with great ability. I felt the spirit again, but when she testified in Tagalog the world seemed to stop and listen, and amazement was had for all.

for me it was a weekend of testimony.... and it was ......................................glorious!

thanks for allowing me to come along.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

all skate!

i would like to ask if everyone who is involved with the incredible events of this week and during the weekend would write a blog about their experience, i respectfully repeat,

everyone, please!

i feel like those who post seldom need this opportunity and what a great opportunity it is. i will never get a chance to have a one on one conversation with each of you, but it would be a great pleasure to know how you felt and what you thought about the home coming and the baptism.

its an all skate

everyone please!

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

at the barber shop

I went to the barber shop today..

He's not a hair stylist,, He's a barber.

A hair stylist is a poodle, he's a hound dog....

Not the Elvis "hound dog" nope, not that. Kind of like the sheriff, hound dog in "Fivel goes west"....

He's a "git er' done" hound dog. A cowboy.

He bought the shop from the guy who trained him, the barber pole has been there since the ninteen twenty's

The guy he bought it from, bought it from another guy; who trained him.

The shop hasn't changed much over the years, no phone, no fax, and while you are waiting, you sit on an old pew that was bought from the leftovers from when they built the first stake center in town, it's made of wood sawn and milled from our mountains above town. The walls are solid wood and a huge elk head hangs from the north wall.

Most days people walk by just to see how deep the line is... there was four in the line before me...

A cop
A retired teacher (just home from a mission)
A farmer
And a city councilman and his daughter.

Everybody gets their fifteen minutes in the's not a written rule, but the guy in the chair pretty much runs the conversation.

We talked about: health care, socialism, hunting, city council, taxes, new high schools, old high schools, fishing, Jason Chafitts (our current congressman), obituaries, weather to develop more farmland into housing, weather to and how much of some one's land should be donated for a new stake center.

And then the first guy's turn was over....

Believe it or not, I just listened.

I was the youngest one there today, ....It seemed a good thing to listen.

I didn't agree with every point of view, but I learned a great deal.

What concerned me most was the tapering off of conversation when we were trying to figure out "what exactly was the "government" doing?"

Two of the men talking have actually bled for their country,

One wounded in Pyongyang city.(Korea)
The other in the Tet offensive. (Viet Nam)

They were perplexed ; "what had they fought for? for whom did they bleed?".

The loss of freedom and liberty was painful to them.

This isn't what they wanted for their grand childeren.

It was the saddest thing I have seen in recent memory.

Someone then said " You did it for me.....thank you. I will not forget."

The rest agreed.

Cops and cowboys, politician and carpenter, and a few others who had wandered in and awaited their turn,....

Not a dry eye.....

It was a hell of a thing......It was.

true story.

Monday, August 10, 2009

hello again...

i'll try it again. if you missed me, thanks