another thought

2011-06-21T13:03:00.000-07:00

Monday, June 13, 2011

this spring Spanish fork has been blessed with an abundance of rain, and an abundance of weeds in my wife's garden. although i have never liked gardening my wife does and i love her, so i have to and want to help her. the funny thing about weeding a garden is that it gives you alot of time to think; i guess simple work gives rise to complex thought. what usually end up thinking about is the metaphorical value of weeding in my life.

i have many things about my life of which i am proud and other things that worry me, sometimes to profound sorrow. many of these things are out of my control just like the return of the weeds, but does that mean that i should only pray and hope for a better outcome? the reluctant weeding gardener within me says "no." but i must do all that i can and keep on doing it regardless of the outcome, because a good attitude and completing the work will very likely improve the garden during its season of growth.

my neighbor Vee Hull wrote this editorial for a past ensign article. she read it to me while i visited her and her family last night. it says much of what i feel about this subject, she gave me a copy and gave me permission to print it here. it talks a great deal from her perspective and lessons learned during a long and noble life. i feel this has much to teach me and anyone who cares to listen.

SR

The Worth of Weeds
By Vee Hull

With the arrival of Spring, also came the arrival of an abundance of weeds. I had sustained an injury the previous fall and the weeds went to seed. My husband and I carefully weeded and tilled the garden and did some early planting.

In April, I lost my balance on the bottom outside porch step and fell headlong into my rock garden. My left had jammed into a rock. My wrist and fingers were broken. I was heartsick, discouraged and hurting. I didn’t want my yard to go to weeds again and they were already growing fast. I slowly weeded with my good hand but new weeds quickly grew.

I again went out to weed and as I worked I mentally asked God a question. I said, “I understand you placed weeds here on earth to torment man and to vex us, and Lord - they surely do vex me. Is that the only purpose for weeds, other than to put our kids to work to keep them out of trouble?”

I had no sooner mentally asked the question when my mind flooded with answers, The thoughts came like words and I heard, “All things testify of me and teach of my gospel. The weeds growing in your garden are a shortcut lesson in life. Your garden represents your family. The weeds represent the evils and temptations that come into the life of you and your family.”

With this message in mind, comparisons between weeds and life came quickly. We cannot keep our garden free from weeds, just as we cannot keep our families free from worldly and evil influence. Weeds blow in and some are brought in on the fur of animals . Some even have umbrellas to insure their ability to travel. New weeds come in when you bring in soil or fertilizers to build up the garden. In comparison, television can bring in good seeds of learning like our garden seeds and flowers, or it can bring in the weeds of sinful pornography, vile music, negative advertising, etc. We have to recognize the good and turn off, or “Pull out” the weeds.

Some weeds grow slow, some are aggressive and fast growing. Some so called weeds have nutritious value but are weeds if growing in the wrong place.

We need to recognize the weeds in our life. The Lord has given us clear instructions to protect our families and help them grow strong in the gospel We are instructed to have daily individual and family prayer, to read our scriptures daily and to have home evening. These are the regular weeding tools the Lord has given us to weed out damaging influences that enter our home.

Some weed roots are tender and shallow and will break off if just pulled. they have to be carefully dug around and lifted out. When our children are young and tender, we have to take prayerful care to counter the influences of the popular culture in dress and music so these influences can be lifted out by the roots and not send our children into rebellion.

Some weeds, like Wild Morning Glory or Bind weed,” have roots that go deep and send runners all throughout he garden. The vine encroaches on everything and binds it up. It cannot be pulled but rather has to be killed with appropriate chemicals, and this only with repeated efforts. This type of weed is like drugs and pornography. It takes a deep hold on the life of anyone where it takes root. It “binds” the user to deep addictions that spread and affect others. It is nearly impossible to control or eradicate this “weed” when it enters ones life.

Some weeds, when young, resemble certain flowers and vegetables. If not recognized and weeded out when they are mature enough to be recognized for the weeds they are, they can go to seed and infect the garden. Sin comes disguised in many forms and we need to be watchful for the pretenders.

Some weeds have blossoms that are attractive. One would wonder why they are called weeds unless you are familiar with the mature plant. The puncture weed looks very pretty with its purple blossoms but when left to bloom and mature, those blossoms turn to a burr with sharp strong spines that are vicious enough to flatten a bike tire of cause great pain if stepped on with bare feet. They imbed in the soles of shoes and are carried to other areas to spread. Other plants of this type when mature, form hundreds of burs per plant and catch on the fur of animals and are carried and spread. Thistles have a lovely purple blossom which when mature form little umbrellas that sail and infect entire fields making them unusable for animals to feed on. In the scriptures, a prophet was sent to teach repentance to the people before their incorrect teachings spread like thistle blossoms on the wind and brought the entire people to unbelief.

My young son, out cutting down a field of thistle with me, asked me why God made the blossom so pretty if it was so bad. I explained that we were here on earth to make choices and learn to choose good over evil. I told him that if God made everything sinful appear ugly or taste bad, it wouldn’t be difficult to choose good. Satan puts an attractive appearance on evil to tempt us. God teaches us what is good and what is evil. He teaches us how to recognize evil and how to resist it. We have free agency to choose. Entire nations have gone down in decay because of the spread of attractive weeds of sin, and the inhabitants unwillingness to eradicate them before they went to seed and flourished and spread.

Weeds grow and flourish in the poorest of soils and even with lack of moisture. However, with the addition of soil amendments, fertilizers and water, they grow rapidly and almost outdo the garden plants. this is much like the battle between good and evil. For our homes to be spiritual and nourishing to our families, we must follow the gospel and enrich the soil or foundation of our testimonies and make our homes fertile ground for building the spirituality of our children. We are told that evil keeps pace with spirituality. When one is doing their best to live by the spirit and follow God’s commandments, Satan and his followers do their best to counter their efforts. Tests and roadblocks are put in their way. As the knowledge of the restored gospel spreads, so does Satan’s power and influence increase. If these strong weeds of Satan and his followers are allowed to take hold and not be weeded out, strong testimonies, or “strong plants” can be crowded out.

There is a product made in small granuals that can be spread on the ground and it will stop the germination of seeds. It has to be re-applied to handle further weed seed germination. This product in our garden is like the Holy Ghost in our home. If we are living the gospel sufficient to retain the spirit of the Holy ghost in our homes, it will be difficult for the seeds of sin to germinate. We must be faithful in maintaining this influence in our home or new seeds of sin or temptation will enter in. We must be diligent in following God’s commandments.

If weeds are allowed to grow and go to seed, those seeds multiply by great numbers. They germinate and grow every time the soil is turned and the seeds reach the surface. It takes many successions of weeding to finally eliminate the results of weeds going to seed.

How much better to remove the weeds in our garden when they first appear and prevent them from germinating when possible.

Watching a garden through several seasons and seeing the effect of careful weeding or neglect, shows in that short time what will happen in our families by the time our children mature if we do not take care to nourish and weed the minds of our children and tend the garden of our home for which the Lord has entrusted us.

I will never look at a weed in the same way again.

Buhler....Buhler....

2011-05-20T09:56:00.000-07:00

so i am not in school for the summer. and i am thinking about what to write in a blog, it is a total falure because i have been driven by the stress of school for so long i can't think of anything on my own that would be good.

i need an assignment. anybody got an idea of a blog subject. any questions for me?

Buhler.....Buhler.......

letters to the school year.

2011-04-29T20:32:00.000-07:00

dear, fall 2010/spring 2011

oh my gosh what a year. walking with you was like spending days troding through a valley filled with amazing things and wonderous knowledge, and not realizing how far you have come until you pause for a moment to look back and see where you have been.

the moment turns into a while, and a little longer still. you drop your pack sit on it and see how far, far truely is.

microbiology
wow you turned all my friends into grem-a-phobs but i loved you with passion and all the bugs you introduced me to. so grateful you were taught by a medical doctor his ability to explain from the treatment perspective was far better than re-memorizing general biology again. and to my kids sorry about all the unsolicitated freely given and nausiating information, but now you can tell your friends all about the microbs tranfered in a single kiss, and name all 37 of them! and tell them what antibiotic it will take to remove it from your system! hellooooooo Ciprofloxacin!
(evil laugh)

english my old enemy, how i loath thee.....
luckily i had back up...
thanks scott L and amy B. you got me through two, count them, two unmerciful english classes. and now i am your slave.....good trade.

ethics and values....the single weirdest teacher i have ever met in my whole freaking life........waste of time...nuff said.

nutrition....i think i was supposed to take you before i took micro, gereral anatomy, and physiology. and dr. barthel you actually marked that question wrong because "i gave to detailed an explanation of lipogenesis"....really? i don't remember you saying that we weren't allowed to used other information from other classes.........it was the only point i lost in your class....your the boss dude, whatever.

and all those other classes that keep teacher employed.....i learned something in each of you that was either interesting, enjoyable, or helped me grow in other ways.
so thanks

pathophyisiology..... another medical doctor/ teacher, alot of stuff not written in the book, the testing seemed not only unfair but akin to swimming in an avalanche.
micro turned my friends into germ-a-phobs you turned me into a hypochondriac....
it got to be funny with my group of friends on the front row that you would list every disease aimed at a 46 year old diabetic with high stress and pronounced obesity. by the end of the semester i felt like my very existance was in defiance to the very laws governing fine sub atomic adhesion and expected to burst into flames at any given moment. the first B in my late college carrer. i have never felt so saticfied with and average grade. i'll take it, gratefully.

life....you have reminded me that people matter:

more than the medicine that heals them.
more than the doctors and nurses that work to help them.
more than books
more than the next test.
the very existance of life must give an enhanced sence of hope
hope of life give reason to treat, heal, and learn how to do it better.

so i will keep trying.

becca..... you have taught me how soft my heart is where my childeren are concerned. i'm glad you are coming home. in the next few weeks i will prepare a place for you...another bedroom, another bathroom. a seat next to me in church.

another carpenter prepares a place for you as well. teach my grand child about him. show the way. you can do it.

yep...been one great year. looking back on what has been crossed i see two sets of foot prints...

beileve.

2011-04-07T11:04:00.000-07:00

FOR YOU .....

I found this last week while I walked in the snow.

I was searching for something very different than this on my ipod;

I was looking for something grey and bleak, for that is how i felt in that moment, never the less, this was the first thing on the Google list.

I chanced to look at it and my night changed.

Someone I love is walking a thorny path and I knew today that I needed to find this again and place it here.

I don't know if they will find it, might take days,

but it is here as am I.

believe and you will exceed

Believe in Love
Believe in Faith
Believe in Truth
Believe that no matter what happens, you have the power to prevail

Believe in Strength
Believe in Courage
Believe in Honor
Believe that everyone has the power to be good at heart

Believe in Song
Believe in Dance
Believe in Culture
Believe that no matter who you are or where you’re from- everyone is unique

Believe in things you never would
Believe in doing things you never could
Believe in achievement
Believe that if you think you can, you can- but if you think you can’t, you won’t.

Believe in the damned
Believe in the degenerate
Believe in the corrupted
Believe that evil does exist in many forms, but all can be overcome

Believe in spiritual
Believe in holy
Believe in sacred
Believe that your personal values can never be taken from you

Believe in mad
Believe in depressed
Believe in suicidal
Believe that one smile can save a life

Believe in magic
Believe in hope
Believe in dreams
Believe that the unbelievable happens everyday

Believe in time
Believe in forever
Believe in YOU
Believe that as long as you believe in yourself- anything is possible

Ricky Baker

the buoy.

2010-09-13T09:33:00.000-07:00

"The lines on the boat are placed for the individual preferences of the solo sailor.
I put them to my right side so that I could easily switch hands on the rudder and I seemed to have better traction with my feet as I leaned into pulley to tighten the sail." he said.....

The question was; "how do you situate the control lines on a small boat like that to give you control of the sails from the stern?."

His name was Peter Fisher; he was 84 years young; he was my patient since January; one of my first.

My philosophy has been to put a patient at ease by finding a common ground of experience and to place them in a position of mentor ship with me, so that the service I provide is less duty and more of an exchange of equals.

I had worked years ago at the Newport sailing club for the summer of 1986. I learned enough about sailing to be conversational and to understand the principals of the sport. We both Knew Newport harbor and this became our common ground. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday between 8 and 930 we would talk about sailing and Greece and England and do what was necessary to preserve his health and continuity.

I would come with a question each day. That was my question on Friday. He taught me more about sailing that day and warned me that I should never get beyond the sound of the buoy if there were clouds to the east as I left the harbor at Newport.
I promised that I would not.

He said each buoy made a distinctive sound and even in dense fog you could find your way back if you could hear it.

When I arrived at their home this morning I was instantly aware that something was wrong; and upon entering I found that today's question would go unanswered.....

Paramedics, Police, Doctor's to sign documents,All this while sitting with his lovely wife and talking. Arrangements were made I did all I could do then I knew it was time to go,wishing her well I left....

I was fine.....until I left.
This was a new experience for me. and i am afraid i was not at all prepared.

several phone calls.....people stood to help me....

my regional supervisor gave me the rest of the day off. she said that I would be fine in a few days. she said "It's like being in a fog; that will mercifully lift soon." yeah she called that one right.....

So I am listening for the buoy....

clear sailing Pete, clear sailing....

making contact.

2010-09-02T15:27:00.000-07:00

It's funny,

I don't think about it much but then again I do.

There is so much to know and to talk about and life moves so fast that you don't often say what needs to be said when it is in the moment to. It is to easy to miss important opportunities in the fear you might say the wrong thing.

I don't like to talk to people much unless I know them well. I can try to be funny, but humor is a shield. If you are misunderstood you can be excused, because it was to be funny. That is a little cowardly, it's true.

We seldom just say what crosses our mind because our filters are up, and I am not saying they should not be... but it does prevent us from making contact with others, that is also true.

Those who say what crosses their mind are either young, old, or crazy (in my case all three). Yet these people can reach out and make contact with others magnificently.

They can do this because they are given the time by the patient and wise to sort out what is being said in both directions.

Why should it be odd to misspeak or need a do over in our conversations.

It is hard to give, but it shouldn't be....
We all need it, but seldom get it, and we should.

Everyone should get three bright red "do over" cards a day. we hand them to each other at the appropriate moment in a conversation.

And if somebody ends up at the end of the week with far more than his share of cards, he will get a shock collar put on him that will hit him with 25000 volts only for five seconds or so, if he is cheating by being silent for ten consecutive minutes. We gotta keep those "listeners" from feeling superior...

And if those in Washington D.C. have silenced more than 10% of the population because they borrow to many.....then they get get a "special" shock collar....one that will cause premature release of bodily waste....
and we will give the remote control for them over to chimpanzee's trained to push three individual buttons arbitrary every ten minutes...

can i get an AMEN!

summer of.......

2010-08-12T14:35:00.000-07:00

i hate to admit it, but i feel like my head is swollen, not like i have finally embraced my excessive awesomeness. but like i have been doing a head stand all summer.

i feel like i have been rolling down some, summer burnt, highway with my noggin' as the wheel of a bizarre unicycle.
i am not only road weary i am the road.....

i have forgotten what normal feels like. i have been occupied with less important things.

i would like to tell you about the funny things and irritating things of 14 credits on the block.

but i have one more final in twenty minutes and after that i think i will just try to get caught up with everyone who i have neglected for the last few months.

but til then all i can think of to express how proud i am of the work and grades and the endless hours in the library is to say to those whose lives are effected by all this; is that:

i'm sorry i missed you
(punctuation left out on purpose)

2010-08-05T12:37:00.000-07:00

some times people do things for others that they are not aware of sometimes they get an idea of how important some act of service was but usually not. two things for me was in this last week two members of our family shared their insight and talent that helped me enormously.

first on Saturday i asked Felicia a question and her response helped to bring me back to reality. you see as i have been in school i have studied harder than i ever had before. when i was a young man i did not try that hard some classes were easy so i did well in those and didn't worry a lot about about the rest. so my absolute obsession with grades and classes and all that encompasses was busted up a little when she told me that she felt like she knew very little when she arrived at her new job as a nurse, and that since then her real education has begun in earnest. that humbled me.

as this week progressed i read articles that were in research for a "short no big deal" paper that counted as 25% of my grade in a nursing class. and in those experiences i learned a few things:

1; i have a lot to learn in both the near and distant future.

2; i know a lot more than i thought i did.

here is the paper, and thank you Scott and Kenz for your timely and important help i could not have completed it with out you...

The Art and Science of Nursing

Have you ever watched another person go about their work? As you observe, this person is demonstrating the effort and power necessary to accomplish the tasks that daily work demand. I once watched something like this that amazed me.

As a boy growing up in Idaho, I often walked the Payette River with my father, fishing and talking. The river at that time was also used by the Boise Cascade Lumber Company to move raw timber downstream to the saw mill at Horseshoe Bend in the mountains of Idaho. We’d watch as the cut trees would float downstream for a period of time in the summer. These trees were tended by river men whose job it was to keep the logs moving and keep them from jamming in the water.

My father and I approached one of these jambs on a summer day and saw a man walk out across the logs as they floated in the water. The logs were unable to move forward because they’d become tangled. My father drew my attention to what he was doing and told me to observe what would happen next. For a few minutes this man worked with a pole, pushing and pulling logs one way or another at or near where to problem was occurring. He then simply walked back across the log jam to the shore, sticking his pole in the ground and leaning on it for a moment as he watch the tangled mess in the steam. I wondered what he was doing or had done to fix the situation. Suddenly, there were a few noises in the log jam and one by one they began to move again as if by magic. My father told me he had gone to where the focus of the tangle was and moved one or two logs, then let the stream slowly pull them apart and the lumber continued the journey to the mill, downstream. I learned that one person in the right place at the right time with experience and knowledge can make all the difference in obtaining success.

The skill and knowledge that this river man possessed was the science of his job and the way he used that skill and knowledge was his art. He made it seem effortless because the work he did was an extension of himself. My dad told me of the many times he’d seen far more men working on a similar problem without success, instead resorting to explosives to lose the tangle, damaging the river and destroying the lumber in the process. He admired the conservation of effort and the gentle way this man did his job. This is the way I want to do my job when I work as a nurse. Therefore, to work in this way I need to ask myself “how?”

Knowing How

There are many types of knowing in the world of nursing and many ways to learn them. One of the best is to simply exchange information person-to-person in the narrative; stories about real life and imagined experience as shared by teachers and professionals have tremendous value in the lives of the students of the nursing profession. Some of the types of knowing that can be taught by storytelling are referenced in Linda Hunter’s article “Stories of Integrated Patterns of Knowing” as published in International Journal of Nursing Education Scholarship in 2008.

Hunter quoted something in the opening paragraph of her article that has stayed with me:

Excellence in nursing practice has long been defined as the delicately

balanced movement between both art and science (Peplau, 1988). This synthesis

of art and science has been more recently referred to as holistic practice, or seeing

people as ‘whole persons’ (Yorks & Sharoff, 2001). Transforming theoretical knowledge and clinical practicum experiences into thoughtful nursing care that is the benchmark of holistic practice has led to the development of a number of innovative teaching strategies. Many of these strategies have involved some measure of self-reflection, which not only allows students to assimilate their own lived experiences, but also better prepares them to think critically from multiple perspectives. (Baker, 1996; Diekelmann, 2001; Heath, 1998; Nehls, 1995; Scheckel & Ironside, 2006)

I have become acutely aware of the stories told by those who I work with as both a nurse’s aid and as a student. These stories affect the way I approach my job and my education. I was grateful to read the above-mentioned article because it validated my preferred learning medium: storytelling. It is through the personal stories I hear that I learn more detail in the work I do now and the work I plan to do. Hunter also stated that “Sharing [nurse’s] stories with faculty and each other stimulated the collective reflection necessary to move them beyond the empirical world and into the inside aspects of practice that a textbook could not teach them” (Hunter 2008).

I love my textbooks. I love my classes. In them I learn vernacular, formula, theory, and practicum. This is the science of nursing. The art, however, is something different. It’s painted in the lives of those who I listen to. In their stories are etched their successes and failures, their realities and ideals, as well as the setting of standards of excellence and at times the exceeding of them. In these stories are found the many aspects of knowing. Below is a brief summary of some of the ways of knowing:

Empirical knowing: This is the scientific aspect, i.e. the things we love to learn in the lab and the lecture.

Ethical knowing: This entails the critical “what if” situation learned by first listening to a scenario explained by the storyteller, and then placing yourself in this situation. This provides the opportunity to walk an imaginary pathway and choose how you would act in a similar situation.

Personal knowing: This is to me one of the most important ways of knowing. In your relationship with the patient this type of self knowledge gives an authenticity to the caregiver’s work that can be obtained in no other way.

In order to enter into a therapeutic relationship with patients, Carper (1978) stated nurses must first understand themselves. This process of “knowing self” or self-actualization allows the nurse to enter into authentic interpersonal relationships with patients that promote wholeness and integrity. Patients are then seen holistically as unique individuals. While Carper felt this pattern was the most difficult to teach and master, she also stressed its crucial importance in understanding another’s sense of well being. Jacobs-Kramer and Chinn (1988)

suggested that through reflection and response, nurses gain insight and develop congruence between their private authentic self with their public disclosed self. Consequently, as nurses gain more awareness of their own being they can then begin the healing process of another (Yorks & Sharoff, 2001). This leads to a place where we, as healers, need to be whole ourselves or we will perhaps lose the credibility to help other achieve their goals of wellness.

In another article written in Rev. Latino-Am. Enfermagem vol.16 no.2 Ribeirão Preto Mar./Apr. 2008 by Dezorzi; Crossetti:

The history of nursing essentially converges to care delivery to other people, which justifies its existence. However, lately, a different idea has been discussed, stating that, in order to care for the other, one must be aware that, first, it is essential to take care of oneself. Nursing professionals are now awakening, from times of self–abandonment, to this condition. In this movement, subjects expressed their daily practices that included spirituality in care for themselves, which became habits for a healthy life. (Crosetti and Dezorzi)

Self knowledge cannot be faked and we must be authentic representations of our field of work and study, which requires a relative level of health and adherence to the standards we ask of others.

Esthetic Knowing: shown primarily through empathy and understanding the

subjective experience of others. If you can put yourself in their situation you are better able to express what you would need to hear in order to deal with what is happening to your patient today.

I feel like all these things are important to nursing both the art and science we should focus our goals on becoming filled with these types of knowledge to more effectively aid in the recovery and improvement of our patients.

letters to spring semester

2010-04-27T23:07:00.000-07:00

you know we really got to know each other this time.

you were less scary than your predecessor.

{to the seventeen year old who sat next to me in biology.

-I'm really not smarter than you, it's just with out a 2000 dollar lap top i spend less time on face book than you.....and what he said last was "meiosis"....hurry and type that on your "notes " windows while answering the fourth e-mail or instant talkie thingy whaty or whatever it is you do... (half the class was doing the same thing)

{to the young women in human development who sat to my left.

when you took notes on your lap top and gave them via e-mail to the young man who sat to your left and who missed two class periods because his friend passed away one morning after a night of "partying". I'm sure he only came back to class because you assured him that he would have what he needed to pass the next exam if he did. you were just enough encouragement at just the right time. good job angel.

[and to the young man...

on your choking comments in class during a subsequent lecture about the practice of binge drinking in college,.. your long pauses and occasional tears said more than your answer to the teacher's question......at twenty two you have learned that you are not immortal. it was a terrible lession.

finish rehab dude...................
again I'm sorry........
don't give up, you can do it...

{to my buddy from chemistry last semester who learned how hard anatomy is as a subject this semester.....

aren't you glad now that you didn't quit at mid term....to many did. hell i almost did the same thing....but you did great.
i was so proud of you when i graded your final exam.

{to the obstinate little boy who ran and hid from his soon panicked young father when he turned his back for less than ten seconds while coming to get your mom at the school....

it isn't cool to hide in the ladies room, little man...

and madam i do apologize again, it was logically the only place he could have gone down that particular hallway...
and well his father needed help locating....

and i just thought that he must of....

well, sorry.......

{to my beautiful daughter....

for whom Tuesday and Thursday salad with dad became a habit. i loved that time of the week and your company gave me strength when i thought i couldn't do one more hour of study.
thank you for being there.

as the semester ends i find my self having accomplished 95 to 100 % of my goals for the semester....

are my goals to low?
or have i sacrificed to much to achieve them?

maybe both i think.

one week and i start up with a new semester, it won't be easy, but we will try to live up to the standard set with you...

perhaps it is the clear vision of all i have left to do, or something is wrong with me, but i find the end of our time together , spring semester, leaves me feeling a little empty and sad.

but i will miss you, we did alright together.. thanks again.

your friend
papa bear.

moose mouse club....activity

2010-03-31T18:26:00.000-07:00

Hey guy's i just wanted to ask:

when i was a boy i used to steal plaster of paris from our garage. mix it and use it to make 3D cast of tracks i would find in those places i haunted back then. it was a fun way for me to learn the nuances of the different animal tracks....but i was really trying to find BIGFOOT at first.

i was thinking that i would bring enough of the stuff up to the family reunion that each kid whose parents give permission would be able to make 3 or 4 cast of animal tracks.

they will get a little messy.

so parents please let me know if you would like to let your kids participate.....

messy.....i warned you......think white mud....

the one thing way cool about this is that these kids will be able if we are lucky to find tracks that i never was able to collect when i was their age....we could give out awards if you would like.
like a scavenger hunt.

this would be time consuming......like durring mama's nap time..... might take hours....;-)

new semester

2010-03-11T18:46:00.000-08:00

So this semester has been as fun as the last.

work, school, work, work, work school, school, workschool..

But not necessarily in that order. i am pretty sure my wife is still my wife, but my kids now refer to me as "that guy who mom talks to after we go to bed".

You would think that they would be grateful she wasn't talking to herself....

One funny thing this week....

I was sitting in human development on Tuesday. and the teacher is lecturing on the theory of intellect and the types of thinking that are involved with it.

She spoke for a minute of the concept of critical thinking, which is;

The cognition of information by weighing it against our own previously known information and personal beliefs, for as to assign our support or denial of some or all information given in the presentation.

or "Do we agree with what we are being told? and why? or, why not?"

She talked of the recent controversy with The International Committee on Man Made Global Warming.

She expressed dismay in her self and other intellectuals for failing to ask questions and assuming the data and scientist were untainted. Several other students expressed similar sentiments.

I was flabbergasted. As I listened I thought of something I had heard once and raised my hand and in the spirit of humor said this:

now wait, there are many scientific observations that we should be concerned about....

I now took on a very serious tone as if I was chastising them for being foolish.

For instance I myself have been for the last few months taken careful scientific observations and recorded some truly troubling data concerning what is going on right outside this building....

As I spoke every one in the room turned towards me and gave me their full attention,
the teacher who knows me and has had me give brief explanations concerning human biology in the class, looked really concerned and asked earnestly;

Shawn what observations?....

I paused as if getting ready to deliver some bad news and then said....

"For several months I have carefully measured the alarming addition of light each and every day, and had concluded that one year from now.......there will be no night...."

They were shocked and confused as I finished...
A girl on the front row put her hand to her mouth and said "what...what did he say?"

They sat looking at me trying to be sure they heard what they thought they had heard.

The teacher was muffling a laugh into her hand.. Then I said in a flat tone...

"quit staring at me i was being sarcastic...."

they laughed for a while then she thanked me for my improvisational example of the need for critical thinking...

I didn't have the heart to tell her i stole it from Rush Limbaugh....I will tell her another day when she has gotten a little immunity to big chunks of truth.....

Every now and then you get lucky, it was just my day. Oh well back to work......

2010-01-30T11:01:00.000-08:00

the pros and cons of being Katie and Becca....

THE CON"S

When they were about two years old they had a theme.... Explore, Play and make messes of a biblical scale....

There were three things they did that summer....

One fine Saturday afternoon they were some how able to TEAR OFF the lid of a nearly full five gallon bucket of corn oil. so what do a pair of two year olds do with approximately four and a half gallons of corn oil?

They spread it evenly over 78 square feet of linoleum in the kitchen.....what else.

Terri heard a thump followed by several others in quick succession.... It appears the new sport of oil skating would have to wait for introduction in America.

It took 27 oz. of liquid dishwasher soap to loose enough oil to hold on to them, without having the little greasy gophers, slip through you fingers like the wind in silk running pants.

A few weeks later the same experiment was tried with a five gallon bucket of white flower....in the same kitchen, at least the second foray sopped up what was left of the oil....

I'm not sure if the statute of limitations has run out on the third incident.

But i will say that even to this day, every deer living in valley forge state park in Pennsylvania will flee at the approach of a golden ford tempo....

Over the years their strength and fearlessness has shown them great adventures and some sorrow. And the inter-twin competition is regionally famous.

Still together they are formidable.

THE PRO"S

In eighth grade a fight occurred between two young men who were not well matched at all. Within seconds one boy was on the ground while the other. (a stout fellow who was born to a family from Tonga) Began to pound him mercilessly and if I recall correctly a few of his cousins joined in to make a point about family unity...or gang warfare.

The boy on the ground had no allies in the gathering crowd, and no teacher was to be seen.

Kate and Bec had no plan or agreement as to what to do, on instinct, they simply acted.

Katie ATTACKED the aggressive parties with animalistic enthusiasm.

Becca attacked at first, then seeing Katie was fully sufficient for a rear guard upon retreat PICKED UP the injured boy and carried him away. With Kate starring down any possible pursuit.

Leaving the stunned poly's unwilling to chase..... These young men are to this day unsure as to what had actually happened.

Someone in the crowd who was holding his bleeding face in both hands, said to a nearby friend...

" Damn white girl hit like my momma!" Then they tried to decide weather or not, to seek medical attention.
There is a deer or two in valley forge who can testify to that as well.

They will wonder how I know of this. I will just say I have met many young men and women who still remember them from Orem Jr high, and some of them need help in chem and anatomy, and I am collecting stories.

I could tell you a few that would surprise you. Testimonies and tussles, sad things and wonderful things.

I told you that to tell you this.

My daughters are:

complex
joyous
heroic
tragic
beautiful
full of life
fearful
instinctive
messy
full of common sense
smarter than the average bear
scarier that the average lion.

These are the descriptions of Friends and acquaintances.

To me, they are still my baby girls, and sometimes I wish I could hold them in the palm of my hand as I did when they were born.

Instead now, I ask God to do it.

If they stay close to him.... I know he will.

If you do stay close to him nothing will ever overcome you.

Happy birthday girls.

Dad.

the silver shadow.

2010-01-01T20:48:00.000-08:00

This is one of those stories, that is personal.

I write this more for my kids. some of whom have asked me a question or two about the big silver dog I mentioned in my last story, and about my attitude towards dogs in general.

This is one of those things that penetrates deeply into my center....

My dad once showed me a tree that had been burned but not killed in a forest fire. It was displayed in cross section and had continued to grow for fifty years past the day of the fire.

He pointed out the burned section buried deep inside the fifty layers of annual rings that followed the event.

People can be like that with both good and bad things.

I have a pretty good memory of being little

I remember my second birthday. I remember the chocolate frosting on yellow cake with two white candles burning in the center.

I remember my oldest sister holding my hands in hers to keep me from diving into it.

I remember her helping me to blow out the candles and how quickly the cake was whisked over to the kitchen counter and making a royal mess of the piece they gave me.

I also recall my blue eyed Friend who would sit still as a statue next to me and when my mom wasn't looking eagerly got his share. his name was Regal, my mom called him "Shawn's shadow"

He was a few years old when my dad got him. We were living in Marysville, California.
A Friend of my dad was moving to Sacramento and couldn't take his prized weimeriner with him and asked my dad to take him.

We had a farm and it was thought the dog would be comfortable on 120 acre's. He told my dad that the dog loved to play with kids, my dad and mom had four. I was four months old at the time.

He was about ninety pounds, he had a prefect coat and great confirmation for the breed.

During the first week we had him he just lay on the ground out near the chicken coup for two days, from that spot he could watch the long drive that lead to the highway below our home.

Our chickens had quit laying just recently and my mom wanted to blame the dog for upsetting them. But that night my parents heard a huge commotion out in the yard and ran out with my dad's big metal flashlight and a shotgun luckily for Regal my mom had the flash light.

He had something pinned to he ground and was in dog fashion killing it....
My mother hollered "Shoot him, he's got a chicken!"
My dad whistled for him he trotted over and instead of a chicken, dropped a mortally damaged red fox at my mothers feet.

The next morning our new dog got fresh biscuits and raw milk for breakfast, courtesy of my mom.

He had a tendency to lie near things that we valued, my mothers chickens, my dad's truck.
He would patrol the farm looking for what, we didn't know.

He and I got to be friends on the day that my parents moved me out of their room and into my older brothers room. I was still pretty little and my mom needed to sleep thru the night so they moved me upstairs to a room with a view of huge live oak trees, that were outside the window where my crib was placed on the floor.

Since I had kept her up most of the night gibbering and making noise like most little kids in a small wooden cage (crib). might do. My mom felt it was best that we both take a nap, she in her newly quiet bedroom and me in my newly assigned headquarters.....

That went over like a pregnant pole-vaulter.

I screamed and cried and threw a world class fit.

I can't say honestly that I remember this day, but my mom does and she told me about it eight years later. It is not time to tell you about that day yet though...

He some how got into the house and quietly made his way up stairs and into my room, he had never been in the house before, but somehow he found me.

my mom found him a few hours later lying outside my crib (the crib was on the ground without legs underneath it)

He lay next to me on the other side of the bars like a friend visiting me in prison, and I was asleep.

My mom, who hated the very idea of "dogs in the house" just said "good dog...." and quietly walked out.

He was four legged Ambien! He stayed and slept next to my crib from that time, and eventually on my bed.

From that day on he followed me everywhere I went. When I was older I would walk up the hill across from the pond that I wasn't allowed to wade or play in, following my mother to where the diversions were that controled our different irrigation ditches. These ditches were small and shallow and I would try to jump in and play in the water, but the minute my mom would yell at me for trying to drown myself, the dog would jump in and drag me out of the water by the seat of my pants.

I hated that dog that day

I told my mom that I could swim in these small ditches. With my dramatic protestations she eventually relented and let me.

In my attempt to swim I figured the dog might try to drag me out again so I asked her to call him away. she tried, he wouldn't come, he would howl, and bark, and throw a canine fit!

I cured his interference by a proper application of public nudity!
he didn't like that much either. In frustration he lay on the bank and watched me.

these ditches were three feet wide and about eighteen inches deep. i started by just stretching out in them floating on my belly holding on to the muddy bottom with my hands and kicked my legs as the water would slowly flow past me. eventually I was able to let go and use my arms.

My mother was a little amazed but she would let me go "swim" when we had water running.
I eventually got swimming privlages for the pond too, the dog would run to the point nearest to where i was and bark at me...

when I went out to swim he would go along. when I played in the barn, he went too.
when I crawled thru the blackberry bushes he was there. when I got older and started school in the cold autumns of western Montana. he would wait for me on the porch or at the first stop sign down the road or across the street from the school...he actually got into the school once or twice...but it was Montana in the sixties.....that's normal..

There are as many stories about Regal and I in my family, as there are gabby stories in the one my wife and I have now.

There was one day that I heard all of them, one after another, from the time he was left at our California farm until the day I sat in the kitchen with my mother.

In the eight years we were together he went from being a powerful, swift, silver furred guardian

To an old dog, one that I now looked for, instead of the other way around, and often found him lying on the garage floor on a cushy bathroom rug that my mom bought for him at an auction.

For some reason he had really slowed down in the last few months of winter. The summer before he had been just fine, but during the winter he just lay on the basement floor near the furnace and didn't move much.

Late in the spring my dad took him to the vet.....

he didn't come home...

My dog had prostate cancer and was in pain.....My dad explained as best he could thru his tears.
Then he got in his truck and went for a drive.....

There was in my back yard a cattle rack that fit my dad's truck. My friends and i played on it sometimes. So i climbed on top of it and sat there. it was spring but it was a cold cloudy day.

I looked down expecting to see my dog....He wasn't there...... I climbed down.

There was a big elm tree in the back yard I climbed as high as I could.

50 feet off the ground I looked east across our side of Missoula.

Then I looked west, over open Fields, stacks of hay left over from last year, horses and cows, with creeks crisscrossing from the mountain in the distance.

I kept looking back at the ground below me.

I wanted to see blue eyes looking up at me.

I wanted to see the blue eyes that looked into my crib.

I wanted to see the blue eyes that watched me learn to swim.

I heard my mother call my name....I didn't move. She was gruff at times and I hoped the new small leaves would cover me.

I didn't want to be reminded of a chore that I had tried to avoid, right then.

But she called again...She must have seen me climb up .....

There was a softness to her voice, almost pleading with me to come down.

When I came in, I sat at the kitchen table with her, and she told me stories, some I had forgotten, some I didn't know, some had been told so often and for comedic effect that they needed to be oiled before the telling.

I looked into her blue eyes and we talked about him.

We laughed alot and i cried a little.

So to answer your question, my beloved child.....why do I treat my dogs like they are children.

Because of a big silver shadow that treated me like a puppy....

That's why....

Sometimes I still think he is next to me...

See you when i get there bud......

and now my christmas thought

2009-12-18T11:42:00.000-08:00

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 shine....it might catch on....

Merry Christmas.

an indirect christmas thought.

2009-12-15T09:12:00.000-08:00

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)

2009-11-22T19:51:00.000-08:00

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.

SUNBEAM BUG HUNT!!!!

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?

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

2009-11-13T17:03:00.000-08:00

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

another thought of Tay.

2009-11-01T19:24:00.000-08:00

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, ...it'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.

gabby for president.

2009-10-19T00:53:00.000-07:00

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,

talented,

beautiful,

and possessing the heart of a lion.

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

2009-09-28T10:05:00.000-07:00

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.

one funny thing

2009-09-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

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."

"Oh......"

now that's funny.

something that sets on my desk.

2009-09-03T00:25:00.000-07:00

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 CAN'T GO TO SCHOOL , IT COST TOO MUCH, I AM TOO OLD, I NEVER WAS WORTHY OF SUCH A THING ,,,,AND I CAN'T CONTROL THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE!!!

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

PERSISTENCE and DETERMINATION
ALONE ARE OMNIPOTENT (AGAINST FAILURE)

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

2009-08-31T11:42:00.000-07:00

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!

gifts

2009-08-28T21:10:00.000-07:00

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.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE QUEEN FOR A DAY!

but the gift is still mine.

2009-08-25T12:56:00.000-07:00

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!

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

2009-08-22T08:12:00.000-07:00

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.

a question?

2009-08-21T16:05:00.000-07:00

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 instinct.....how much?

please everyone?

2009-08-19T10:09:00.000-07:00

This weekend was a blur for me.

driving,
watching,
driving,
listening,
driving,
laughing,
driving,

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.

all skate!

2009-08-13T14:11:00.000-07:00

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!

at the barber shop

2009-08-11T17:51:00.000-07:00

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 chair...it'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.

2009-08-10T16:27:00.000-07:00

hello again...

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