The Day After

November 7, 2012

I have received a number of emails and posts on Facebook this morning either exulting victory or weeping in defeat. I, a Romney supporter, am not depressed. Our country will survive. Those who disagree with me can consider Canada, Mexico or Cuba, all bordering our country or close to it.

I do not view Barak Obama as an evil person. The country has held together during the last four years and all the other four year periods during which certain people thought it would fall apart. I know we are staring bankruptcy in the face, but I imagine our leaders will be able to pull together before we fall over the cliff. I read what people said about Abraham Lincoln when he was president. It is enough to make one's blood boil.

Our daughter Karen said it best: "I have a roof over my head, food, a car to drive. I'm okay." She's right, We live in a blessed country. We live lives of ease and comfort that kings 100 years ago would have killed for. We'll be alright.

I pray for our leaders and that they will be blessed with wisdom and strength. So may we.

A Kremlin Park

Some years ago, I sat in a large park in the Kremlin in Moscow, Russia. I watched men and women mow the grass (with American lawn mowers!) and peaceful people with their families enjoy the cool, sunny day. Without much thought, I could have been in London, Paris, New York or even Gilbert. As I watched the peaceful scene, I wondered how on earth leaders of two countries could have considered blowing each other up with atomic bombs. I realized where I sat would have been ground zero for the first American bomb. I gave a silent prayer in gratitude that the park and the people in it had been preserved as well as my homeland. As before and more intently afterwards, I pray for peace among the peoples of the world.

Of Chicken, Coffee, Computers and Kisses

Recently, the owner of Chic-Fil-A came out against gay marriage. The nation was thrown into a tizzy as several mayors of large cities, forgetting the right to free speech, said they would not allow Chic-Fil-A to come into their respective cities. In response, last Wednesday, August 1, was unofficially declared "Support Chic-Fil-A Day" across the country. Angered, the gay community decided to protest by having gay couple kiss at Chic-Fil-A stores across the country.

On the other hand, Starbucks, America's most popular coffee outlet has declared their support for gay marriage as has the Apple Computer Company.

On Monday, July 30, I had a nice chicken sandwich at Chic-Fil-A. A few days later, I visited the local Apple Store, a favorite place of mine to spend money. I am not a coffee drinker, but love Starbucks hot chocolate and some of their goodies which have caused my blood pressure to spike. I will likely visit my local Starbucks at my earliest opportunity.

I am a Mormon. Tom Hanks, one of my favorite actors, has made outrageous comments about my Church showing a complete lack of understanding of what we believe and practice. Will I stop going to Tom Hanks movies or discontinue my 28 year love affair with Apple products? Of course not!

We have become so sensitive and reactionary to anyone who disagrees with us that we can hardly function. Can't we have a rational conversation or just agree to disagree? I do not believe in boycotts or protests against certain institutions just because we oppose their beliefs. Many friends, family and people I love dearly have views diametrically opposed to my own. Does that mean I want to write them off? Does this mean I don't respect them? No and again no! This is a free country. We have the right to believe and orient our lives as we see fit and discuss and argue the same. I do believe these issues are important, but when discussions and arguments are over, let us take a deep breath, smile, keep loving each other and be grateful for the countless things we have in common. Otherwise, we may destroy ourselves.

History

History

One of the problems in crime cases is reconstructing the crime when a number of witnesses are involved. When a historian decides to write, he or she must draw from witnesses, usually dead, then decide which ones are reliable and which ones are not. Often, most historians have an agenda for writing their piece of history and will quote the witnesses  suiting that agenda. Years ago, Lerner and Loewe wrote a musical, "Gigi," in which a song, "I Remember It Well," illustrates this point. The song is a duet performed by former lovers, Honore and Mamita, who are now aged. If you'd prefer to see the song performed, just do a search using the title.

I REMEMBER IT WELL
From "Gigi" (1958)
(Lyrics : Alan Jay Lerner / Frederick Loewe)


Honore & Mamita 

H: We met at nine
M: We met at eight
H: I was on time
M: No, you were late
H: Ah, yes, I remember it well
We dined with friends
M: We dined alone
H: A tenor sang
M: A baritone
H: Ah, yes, I remember it well
That dazzling April moon!
M: There was none that night
And the month was June
H: That's right. That's right.
M: It warms my heart to know that you
remember still the way you do
H: Ah, yes, I remember it well

H: How often I've thought of that Friday
M: Monday
H: night when we had our last rendezvous
And somehow I foolishly wondered if you might
By some chance be thinking of it too?
That carriage ride 
M: You walked me home
H: You lost a glove
M: I lost a comb
H: Ah, yes, I remember it well
That brilliant sky
M: We had some rain
H: Those Russian songs
M: From sunny Spain
H: You wore a gown of gold
M: I was all in blue
H: Am I getting old?
M: Oh, no, not you
How strong you were
How young and gay
A prince of love
In every way
H: Ah, yes, I remember it well

When my family gathers, although none of us is an historian, we go through that process. One begins to tell a story and soon is interrupted by a family member who gives the "more accurate" version of the story. As in the song, the consequences of accuracy or inaccuracy are usually small, as in the time I prayed the cat away. Our cat, Shakey by name, ate holes in each of our waterbeds. She climbed the curtains and tore them to shreds (my first exaggeration). I grew to hate the cat. 


One Friday evening, I came home exhausted and tired. No one else was home. Shakey started to whine and rub up against my leg. I finally looked out the window, up to the heavens and said in my mind "Dear God, will you please get rid of this cat for me?" I let Shakey out the back door and no one in the family has seen her since. To me it was a very spiritual experience and saved me from replacing countless waterbed mattresses.


In our family, Shakey's disappearance was a mystery. The kids were sad and I didn't say anything... for ten years. I finally told my children what had happened that Friday afternoon. They were irate and upset that I would tell them a story like that. They were convinced that I had killed the cat or taken her to animal control. Their version of that family historical event might go something like this:


     "Dad hated Shakey. One afternoon when no one else was around
     he either dropped Shakey off in the country or took her to the 
     pound. Then he tried to tell us this story about how he had prayed
     her away to cover his tracks."


What is the truth? The kids are right that I did not like the cat. Actually, I don't like any cats. The evidence is stacked against me. But I swear and promise my version is true. I am not the type of person to leave an animal in the country or to take one to the pound without consulting with the family.


If a tasteful reader, like me, does not care for cats, the wise reader will likely believe my story. However, a sympathetic cat lover, with cat hair throughout the couch and between the sheets of the bed would likely side with my children. Those who are religiously oriented might come down on my side. Those who are not believers likely will accept my children's' story.


History is like this. It is full of prejudice, supposition and fabrication. It is fun to read, but one shouldn't put too much stock in it.

Pixar Brave

I suppose it is my desire for quality, but I have always enjoyed the Pixar movies. Today I went with all of my grandchildren, except two, and saw "Brave," Pixar's latest effort. I'm supposing again that it may be my Scottish heritage, but I thoroughly enjoyed this film. "Brave" captured the spirit of the land, the people and touched something deep in my DNA. Although scary for the young ones, it was a fantastic film and I recommend it highly. Of course, having an independent red-headed daughter and granddaughter (and grandson!) was a definite influence too. Pixar has scored again!

The Worst Thing That Can Happen in This Life.

I love cookies, all kinds of cookies. But the worst thing that can happen to an individual in this life is to bite into a delicious chocolate chip cookie and find that it is really a raisin cookie. Biting into a raisin cookie is great. I love 'em, but don't mix them with chocolate chip cookies! I'd rather experience Chinese water torture.

Two Things a Fat Old Person Needs

One of the worst things that can happen to a fat senior citizen is to have a slender doctor who does not understand the vicissitudes of trying to drop poundage. I advise two things for over weight old people: a fat doctor and a fat cardiologist!

Good joke from my high school friend, Tom Painter!

Tom applied for a signalman's job on the railroad and met his new boss at the signal tower.
The boss gave Tom a pop quiz.
"What would you do if you realized two trains were heading towards each other on the same track?" he asked Tom.
"I'd switch one to another track," said Tom.
"What if the switch lever broke?", asked his boss.
"I'd run down the track and use the manual lever."
"What if the manual lever had been struck by lightning?" persisted the boss.
"I'd run back up here and use the phone to call the next signal tower," said Tom.
"What if the phone was busy?"
"I'd run down to the station and use the pay phone," replied Tom.
"What if the pay phone had been vandalized?" asked the boss.
Tom, tiring of this silly game, responded, "Well, I guess in that case I'd run into town and get my Uncle Leo."
The boss looked puzzled.
"Why on Earth would you do that?" he asked.
"Because Leo's never seen a train wreck," said Tom.

33 Challenges of The Book of Mormon

This has been around for a number of years, but is still worth reading.

Occasionally you hear someone say, "I could believe your Mormon Doctrine if I just didn't have to swallow the story about Joseph Smith being a man of God and that he translated the Book of Mormon from some golden plates which he claimed he had found on a hill side." It is even possible that you, yourself, have doubted his story. Well, let us consider some facts or conditions that must be complied with in order for you or someone else to produce a similar record under comparable conditions.

1. You must be 23-24 years of age.
2. You cannot be a college graduate, in fact, you can have only three years of schooling.
3. You must write a book with 239 Chapters, 54 of them about wars, 21 about history, 55 about prophecy, 71 about doctrine, 17 about missionaries, and 21 about the mission of Jesus Christ.
4. Whatever you write must be on the basis of what you now know; no research can be done.
5. You must write a history of an ancient country, such as Tibet, covering a period from 600 BC to 421 AD. Why? Cause you know nothing about Tibet.
6. You must include in your writings the history of two distinct and seperate nations, along with histories of different contemperary nations or groups of people, of which no one ever knew existed.
7. Your writings must describe the religious, economic, social, and political cultures and institutions of these two nations.
8. You must weave into your history the religion of Jesus Christ and the pattern of Christian living.
9. When you start to produce this record, covering a period of over 1,000 years, you must finish it in approximatly 80 days.
10. When you have finished you must not make any changes in the text. The first edition must stand forever.
11. After pauses for sleep and food, if you are dictating to a stenographer you must never ask to have the last paragraph or last sentence read back to you.
12. Your record must be about 522 pages with over 510 word per page. You must add 180 proper nouns to the English language. William Shakespeare only added 20.
13. You must announce that your "smooth narrative" is not fiction, but truth, yes, even that it is a sacred record of history.
14. In fact, your book must fulfill Bible prophecies; even in the exact manner in which it shall come forth, to whom given, its purpose and accomplishments (Respectively-Psalms 85:10-11, Isaih 29:11-14, Ezekial 37:18-21, etc.)
15. You must publish it to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people, declaring it to be the Word of God.
16. You must include with the record itself, the marvelous promise; "And when ye shall recieve these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God the Enternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, He will manifest the truth of it unto you by the power of the Holy Ghost" -Mor 3:5
17. Tens and hundreds of thousands must bear record to the world for the next 145 years that they know the record to be true, because they put the "promise" to the test and found it to be true, the truth manifested to them by the power of the Holy Ghost.
18. Thousands of great men, intellectual giants, and scholars must subscribe discipleship to the record and its movement even to the point of laying down their own lives for it.
19. Your descriptions of the culture and people in these civilizations of which you will write include, the manner of their written and spoken languages, type of buildings, geographic locations, governmental types, monetary system, types of tools and materials used, and many other facts completely unknown to the rest of the world.
20. There can be no flaw whatsoever in the entire record.
21. Yet, you must not make an absurd, impossible, or contradictory statement.
22. Even so, many of the facts, ideas, and statements given us as truth in your record must be entirely inconsistent, even the direct opposite of the prevailing beliefs of the world where very little is claimed to be known about these civilizations and their 1000 years of history.
23. You must invite the ablest scholars and experts to examine the text with care. You must strive diligently to see that your book gets into the hands of all those most eager to prove it a forgery and who are most competent to expose and flaw in it.
24. Through investigation, scientific evidence, and archaeological discoveries for the next 150+ years must verify your claims and prove even the minutest details of your history to be perfectly true, even to the types of roads they built.
25. After 150+ years of analysis, no claim or fact in the book is disproven, but all is vindicated. Other theories and ideas as to its origin, rise, and fall, leaving your claims as the only possible ones.
26. Internal and external prophecies must be confirmed and fulfilled in the next 150 years.
27. Three honest, accreditable witnesses must testify to the whole world that an angel from heaven appeared to them and showed them the ancient records from which you claim your record is translated. These three witnesses must never deny their testimony, not even upon their death bed.
28. You must call out of heaven the voice of the Redeemer to declare to the three witnesses that your record is true and that it is their responsibility to hear the testimony. They must handle and feel the engravings on the plates, and bear record of it. Again, they can never deny their testimony.
29. Eight other witnesses must testify to the world that they saw the ancient records in broad daylight and they that handled them and felt the engravings on the record.
30. The first three and the second eight witnesses must bear their testimony not for profit or gain, but under great personal sacrafice and severe persecution, even to their death.
31. You must find someone to finance your book with the understanding that neither he nor you will ever receive and monetary renumeration from it. You must sell the book at the cost of, or less than the cost of, its production value.
32. You must tell the world that the written record you have translated from was engraven gold plates, even though up until the time you make the claim, no one has ever found anywhere in past history any civilization using gold as a method of keeping records, and not until about 100 years later were any similar engraven gold plates found.
33. Finally, after suffering persecution and revilement for 20 years after you finish the book, you must willingly give your own life for your testimony that the record is from God. All the time you never make a profit or any other type of personal gain save it be your testimony of the work you brought forth.
Surely, no one without God's help could produce a similar record and comply with all of the above conditions. Wouldn't you say that Joseph Smith was indeed a man of good and that he was an instrument in God's hands to bring forth such a record?
© Copyrighted by Peter C. Covino, Jr. 1974

An evaluation of my non-book review.

One of my hobbies is to correct inaccuracies about my Church whenever and wherever I can. Today, in response to one of my efforts on Amazon (where I like to review books, movies and other stuff I buy) a person commented on one of my corrections of an inaccuracy and appropriately said I was not reviewing the book in question, I was just making a statement. I wrote this response:

You are right Douglas. I feel bad about that, so here's my review:

"It was a lousy, inaccurate, bigoted book."

Thank you for correcting me. Have a great day.

Peterson's First Rule

I like Peterson's First Rule for the Study of Other Religions. Dan Peterson is a professor of Arabic Studies at BYU and has written a biography of Mohammed.

Peterson's First Rule for the Study of Other Religions: If a substantial number of sane and intelligent people believe something that seems to you utterly without sense, the problem probably lies with you, for not grasping what it is about that belief that a lucid and reasonable person might find plausible and satisfying. 

Until you understand why people of good sense, learning, mental health, and sound intelligence find a particular worldview convincing and worthy of allegiance -- and I include among world views here not only religions but atheism and such secular ideologies as Marxism -- you haven't really understood it.

You don't have to accept that other worldview, but, if you're serious about understanding it, you really have to grasp it.

Days and Nights in Juvenile Hall.

My grandparents were the directors of the Juvenile Hall for the County of Stanislaus. The building was located at the corner of Scenic Rd. and Old Oakdale Highway in Modesto. The job not only provided my grandparents with a salary, but living quarters on the site. It was a 24 hours a day job. Of course, they had time off and functioned like normal grandparents. From the time I was nine years old until I was twelve, I spent many a night in Juvenile Hall... with my grandparents.

When I turned 16, that almost changed.

Shortly after my 16th birthday, I was given my parents’ 56 Buick Roadmaster to go out on the town. I picked up two buddies, Dennis and Big Steve (Big Steve wouldn't have come, but his girlfriend had trench mouth and so his main reason for being with her was out.). We cruised. Big Steve brought along a bottle into which he had poured a not so small sample from each of his dad’s liquor bottles. Big Steve kept sampling from the bottle and finally offered Dennis and I a sip. Neither of us were strangers to the taste of alcohol, but that was the worst concoction I tasted to that time or since. Castor oil was the nectar of the gods compared to Steve’s concoction. But Steve kept drinking it and shortly he was exceptionally drunk.

From a mysterious source, Big Steve produced car wax in the handy spray bottle. As we cruised McHenry and the 10th Street drag, Big Steve thought it fun to spray wax on cars traveling in the opposite direction. Being 16, I thought it was car wax and wouldn’t hurt anything. Finally, the car wax bottle emptied, Big Steve went to sleep and Dennis and I decided it was time to take Big Steve home and that for the two of us, not much fun was out there. We agreed it was time to go home, which we did.

All was well, until Sunday night. Mom answered the phone and I heard her reply to questions. Yes, we have teen agers, yes, that is our car, yes, yes, yes. It was the cops!

When my Mom came back into the living room, her face was beet red and tears were flowing. We had visitors who were quickly excused. As she interrogated me, I figured it was time to come clean and not to hide anything (except that alcohol was involved). Dad was trying not to laugh, but finally almost giggled, “That sounds like something I’d have done in high school.” Mom pounced on those words, “So you are justifying what he did?” While I was trying to figure out what justifying meant, Dad replied, “No, not at all, I’m just saying it’s something I might have done, not that it’s right.” I think Dad was secretly proud of me for doing something wrong as I was a reasonably good and quiet kid.

As it turned out, I was to report to the Modesto Police Department the next Tuesday morning. On Monday morning, my Mom, who didn’t sleep much that night, called my Grandma who also burst into tears. I was told that If I’d have been stopped that night I’d have gone straight to Juvenile Hall and if the police decided on Tuesday, I could still go.

My Grandpa was one tough bird. He had been in the military as a young man and had chased Pancho Villa into Mexico during the Perching Expedition. I knew if Grandpa could take on Pancho Villa that I was not match for him. I had seen him take down tough guys at the juvie. I heard stories about how he used to take the razor strap to my Mom when she was a girl. I knew Grandpa would beat me down one side of the hallway and up the other. I would probably be on starvation diet for a week. These were the thoughts I had as I anticipated the appointment at the police station.

Upon leaving Downey High School for the police department, I wondered when I would ever see my school again and what kind of shape I’d be in if I returned.

The police interrogated me in every detail. Again, I didn’t mention alcohol. I assumed I’d have the bright light shining in my eyes that I’d seen in all the detective movies, but, to my relief, there was no bright light. Of course I had spilled the beans and told them Dennis and Steve were with me. Big Steve came in right after I did and he looked absolutely miserable. Short of sending me to the juvie, the police officers did the worst thing they could have done. They said, “Come back next week and we’ll tell you what we’ll do with you.” 

Oh, a week before the Pancho Villa chaser got a hold of me. Millions of possible consequences flowed through my mind in those seven days. I didn’t want talk to my grandparents and didn’t for the entire week. The thought of death at the hands of Grandpa passed through my mind many times. I had seen those halls at juvie as well as the cells. It was no place I wanted to be.

That weekend, my Mom scowled at me and said, “Don’t even think about going out.” Actually, I hadn’t been thinking about it. I even did some homework.

The week of torture came to an end and I contritely returned to the police station. The visit with the officers was very brief. “If you promise not to get in trouble again, we’ll let you go, but if you’re ever back here, we’ll throw the book at you. You are free to go.”

The world looked bright. Spring had come several weeks earlier, but I just noticed how great things looked as I left the police station that morning.

Then, an amazing thing happened. On Thursday, two days after my appointment at the police station Dad looked at me and said, “Take the car this weekend if you want.” I was shocked. Those few words sent one of the best messages of my youth. I made a mistake, but they trusted me. That was a great feeling. 

No one drove slower than I did to go cruising that weekend. Dennis, Big Steve and I stayed friends. I never carried drunks with me again. And I never stayed another night in Juvenile Hall, even in my grandparents’ quarters. And I always drove carefully while cruising (Except once sliding the car down the street sideways.).

#^*%@+$& Cruising

When I was a sophomore in high school, the previously mentioned Jim Divochi and a couple others guys went cruising down on 10th St. in Modesto. Jim drove his parents’ nice Oldsmobile.

While making the 10th-11th St. circuit, I thought it would be a cool thing to lean out the back window of Jim’s car as far as I could and shout all the profanities I had learned in Boy’s PE up to that time. I let them fly. All the really bad words I knew. Even the ones my Dad told me not to ever use.  Not a stranger to the profanities himself, Jim finally tired of my tirade. And shouted, “Rocky, just wait until you start driving. I’m going to sit in the back of you car and scream every bad word I know and I know some you don’t!” Jim was second generation Italian so he knew all the bad words in Italian too. I shut up. I thought I had been cool, but I had just made a fool of myself.

After becoming a driver, I took Jim cruising several times. He never shouted profanities out of the back of my car. He was too much of a gentleman.

The great Modesto smoke out.

I am a member of the most famous graduating high school class ever, the Thomas Downey High School class of 1962. Our class was immortalized in a 1973 film, “American Graffiti.” The film was written and directed by fellow ’62 classmate George Lucas. It captured the spirit of our era, but I maintain that our lives were quite a bit more innocent than portrayed in the movie. The town we all grew up in, Modesto, California, is promoting a Graffiti Summer with a variety of activities which will commemorate the 50 year anniversary of the class of  ’62, the movie and cruising, which Modesto ironically banned shortly after the movie came out. They have asked for memories of cruising in Modesto, so I thought I’d include some of mine, which go beyond cruising.

When I was a Freshman in high school in 1958-59, I was invited to go cruising for the first time by Jim Divochi, who lived across the street. Jim packed six of us (Dennis Myers, Mike Smith, Jim Kutz, Tom Painter and me) in his car and we went out in search of a good time. I soon found that everyone in the car was a smoker except me. I didn't really want to be a smoker. 


The guys determined to have a smoke out. Everyone in the car would smoke and exhale as much as possible. The car would be so full or smoke that it would be impossible to see from the front seat to the backseat, or such was the goal. When the cigarettes were offered, not wanting to be anything except part of the group, I accepted. I probably smoked 3 that night. I don’t remember anything else about the night, except the car was quite full of smoke most of the time. I was dropped off about midnight. To my great surprise, I was met in the kitchen by my Mom. The dialog that ensued went something like this:

            Mom: Well, you’re home late…

            Me: Yeah, I’m going to bed.

Mom: Why, you smell like cigarette smoke. It smells like you been in a fire in the cigarette warehouse! You’ve been smoking!!!

Me: No Mom. The guys all smoke, except me and they decided to have a smoke out in the car.

Mom: So you’re telling me everyone in the car was smoking except you? Let me smell your breath.

Me: (exhaling)

Mom(starting to cry): You have it on your breath. Don’t you lie to me!

Me(desperate): No, Mom you don’t understand. It was a smoke out. I breathed in a lot of smoke, but I didn’t have a cigarette (I had three)!

Mom: You better not be smoking or it’ll be a long time before you go out with any one again. Now get to bed.

There is a question about that night that did not occur to me until decades later. Where was my Dad? He was probably in bed with a big smile on his face hoping I hadn’t done some of the things he had when he was in high school.

You won't see this on the nightly news...

May 20, 2012


When he made his "evolutionary" statement on gay marriage, President Obama made the following commendable statement which you will not see on the news or read in the news magazines.


 "I think it's important to recognize that folks who feel very strongly that marriage should be defined narrowly as between a man and a woman, many of them are not coming at it from a mean-spirited perspective. They're coming at it because they care about families. And they have a different understanding, in terms of what the word marriage should mean. And a bunch of them are friends of mine, pastors and people who I deeply respect."

Terminology

---

New York Times      May 9, 2012

Obama Says Same-Sex Marriage Should Be Legal

By JACKIE CALMES and PETER BAKER

WASHINGTON — Before President Obama left the White House on Tuesday morning to fly to an event in Albany, several aides intercepted him in the Oval Office. Within minutes it was decided: the president would endorsesame-sex marriage on Wednesday, completing a wrenching personal transformation on the issue.

 As described by several aides, that quick decision and his subsequent announcement in a hastily scheduled network television interview were thrust on the White House by 48 hours of frenzied will-he-or-won’t-he speculation after Vice President Joseph R. Biden Jr. all but forced the president’s hand by embracing the idea of same-sex unions in a Sunday talk show interview....

...And so it was that Mr. Obama on Wednesday afternoon sat down in the White House with ABC’s Robin Roberts and made news, after nearly two years of saying that his views on same-sex marriage were “evolving.”
(end of article)


It is interesting to me that if Gov. Romney changes his mind he is a flip-flopper, but when Pres. Obama changes his mind he is "evolving."

The Bagpiper

I "borrowed" this story fair and square!


As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently, I was asked by a
funeral director to play at a graveside service for a
homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service
was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Kentucky back
country.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost; and
being a typical man, I didn't stop for directions. I finally
arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently
gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight.

There were only the diggers and crew left, and they were
eating lunch. I felt bad and apologized to the men for being
late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down, and
the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else
to do, so I started to play.

The workers put down their lunches and began to gather
around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no
family and friends. I played like I've never played before
for this homeless man. And as I played "Amazing Grace," the
workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept
together. When I finished, I packed up my bagpipes and
started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was
full.

As I was opening the door to my car, I heard one of the
workers say, "I never seen nothin' like that before, and
I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."

Why can't men just ask for directions?

Consolidation

Readers of this blog (are there readers of this blog?) will notice that I have posted a number of new posts today. They are taken from my other two blogs which I am shutting down, so the posts are not new. They tend to be political and religious in nature so there should be plenty here to offend everyone. I follow a blogger who posts about 2-3 times a day. I tend to post about 2-3 a month, so if you want quantity, you can follow him. I recommend him somewhere below.

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The war is on. The war between the rich and the poor. Candidate Mitt Romney is being accused of being rich and coming from a rich family. If we criticize Romney for that, let's also criticize John Kerry (that never happened from either side), John F. Kennedy, Franklin Roosevelt, etc. Unless one totally inherits riches, it is the sign of tremendous achievement. Such is the case with Mitt Romney. He earned it. That should disqualify him? Quite to the contrary. Riches should not be looked upon as an evil, but as a significant achievement.

Tax the Rich

THURSDAY, APRIL 12, 2012

Tax the Rich

There has been a sustained cry by the Obama administration to tax the rich. President Obama would like to tax dividends from investments at a 40% tax rate. So one earns the money and pays taxes. The money is invested, then is taxed again. Not good for our country. Not fair. Warren Buffet says he is taxed at a low rate than his secretary. She is taxed once. He has been taxed twice. It's deceptive. Certainly some tax should be paid, but not 40%.

Get rid of it!

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 11, 2012

Get rid of it!

When I was a kid, I bought a Three Musketeers candy bar for three cents. Now it is hard to find one for under a dollar. Our government spends millions making the penny, a coin that costs more to make than it is worth. You can't buy anything for a penny any more. Some people, I hear, even throw them away. Even penny candy costs a quarter. It is time to get rid of the penny and save our country some money. There is an old saying, "A penny for your thoughts." You've just read my thoughts which aren't worth what you didn't pay for them.

Genealogy

SUNDAY, APRIL 1, 2012

Genealogy

The Genesis of Right Wing Radio

And Walter Wichell begat Paul Harvey. Paul Harvey dwelt long upon the land, but in his old age begat Rush Limbaugh. Paul Harvey rested with his fathers and Limbaugh begat Glenn Beck who had numerous seed many of whom went to the dark side.

In Defense of President Barak Obama

This will be brief.  I'm not a real fan of Pres. Obama and I cannot imagine a scenario in which I'd vote for him ( unless Newt Gingrich became the Republican nominee). Like most people, I'd enjoy having lunch with President Obama, or at least if he promised not to smoke. He seems like a decent, intelligent fellow. So given the fact that he had enough of a desire to serve our country to run for president and given the fact that he is quite unpopular with many people I know, I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt on a few things.

1. He IS the President of the United States. Some have said, "He's not my president." Well, if you are a citizen of the United States of America, Barak Hussein Obama is your president and mine.

2. President Obama was born in Hawaii. The great State of Hawaii has certified him as a citizen. The "birther" argument is fallacious.

3. President Obama is not a socialist. Although I do not agree with his health care plan, now in the hands of the Supreme Court, to call President Obama a socialist is a pure act of name-calling, partisan propaganda.

4. Those who criticize President Obama are not necessarily racists. Every president has his critics and President Obama is no exception. To label his critics as racist, which to President Obama's credit he has not done, is in itself racist.

5. President Obama is not the worst President in the history of the United States. That label with have to stay with Warren G. Harding or Ulysses S. Grant. His administration is not out of control nor has it been over run with scandal. Obama has not distinguished himself, but he is not the worst.

6. President Obama is responsible for the killing of Osama Ben Laden. Well, he certainly didn't pull the trigger, but he made the call to get Ben Laden. Gutsy move and Obama deserves credit for it.

There have to be at least another half dozen good things to say in defense of Obama, but the existing half dozen will have to do for now. All this being said, I hope Mr. Obama is retired next November and that we can have a president who can handle the economy. But until then, I wish him and the United States of America well.

Arpaio's Joke

THURSDAY, MARCH 1, 2012

Arpaio's Joke

As most of Arizona and the country know, Joe Arpaio, Maricopa County Sheriff is in trouble. The feds are investigating him for numerous civil rights violations. He has squandered millions of tax dollars and pursued a number of bogus cases while neglecting child abuse cases. In the sheriff's latest ploy he has claimed that after an extensive investigation, President Obama's birth certificate is a forgery. In extensive video "proof," the sheriff points out that when enlarged, there is "noise" or rough edges on the typed letters of an authentic birth certificate. On the copy of Obama's birth certificate, there is no noise, hence, according to the sheriff, who must have nothing better to do, Obama's birth certificate is a forgery. Arpaio's joke is that he enlarged the first or authentic certificate many times. The alleged phony certificate was enlarged one or two times, not enough to show any noise that may or may not have been there. So much time, energy and effort has been expended trying to prove that Obama is not a citizen that might have been used for a better purpose. We have more important things to do than to try to disprove something that has already been verified. Obama IS the president. If there is anything phony in the State of Arizona, it is Sheriff Joe Arpaio.

draft

Apostles and iPads

Prof. Daniel Peterson's blog "Sic et Non" is one of my favorites. Without his permission, I pass along one of his posts. Dan, if you'd answer my emails I'd have asked permission!

I have to say, though, that I was in the office of a very senior member of the Twelve(L.Tom Perry, the only one who turns 90 this summer) about a month ago -- he'll be ninety in August, I believe -- and he was extremely adept with his iPad, and very vocal about how much he loves it.  Though he did chuckle that some of the "old timers" in the Church Administration Building are a bit behind with regard to the latest technology.

"Worthless Worship"

I came across a comment in the Washington Post today that made reference to "worthless worship." I could not resist making the following reply.

I will comment upon the term "worthless worship." I do not believe worship is worthless. I have found solutions to my own problems in temple worship, church meetings and the Catholic Mass, although I am a Latter-day Saint, not a Catholic. I have, through worship, been motivated to do better, to be more patient and to be more kind. Through worship I have received the inspiration to do things which would help my wife, children and co-workers. I have been motivated to do more for the poor and needy around me. This process of worship, though I do it imperfectly, is not worthless. It helps me and those around me including some I don't know.

I believe...

Years ago, there was a popular song, "I Believe." I believed as I heard that song as a boy and I believe now. On this Easter Sunday, I believe that Jesus Christ lived and died for my sins and for the sins of all the world, believer and non-believer. I believe that as I turn my heart to him, he will turn to me and bless me. As I pray in his name, I recall he prayed, not to himself, but to his Father who is the Father of us all. When he prayed, '...if possible, take this cup from me," he was not asking himself to take the cup away, he was asking his Father in Heaven.

I believe that he was born of an earthly mother and a Heavenly Father through a  conception we do not understand. As he lived, he was a perfect man. He wanted us to follow his example. Mercifully, he gave us the process of repentance which we can apply when we fall short. That process gives us the privilege of learning from our own mistakes as well as the mistakes of others.

I believe that Christ atoned for each person who lives, will live or has lived on this earth. He loves each of us so much that he was willing to suffer for each one as we try to become more like him. He did not make any exceptions. He cares for us no matter who we are or our station in life. He wants each of us to come and live with him in his many mansions.

I believe that through trying to follow his example, I can become a better man, husband, father and neighbor. I believe as I try, he will make up the difference between what I am and what I could be. I believe that the process of following his example will help me to be more patient, tolerant and kind, making the world a better place for me and those with whom I come in contact.

My belief brings me joy. It give me perspective and enables me to be patient with my mistakes and short comings as well as those of others. It helps me realize that when I suffer or a loved one suffers, I have the perspective to understand that this life is temporary and that there are lessons to be learned along the way.

I am grateful for what I believe and know to be true. I worship him who gave so much. I know that the day will come when I will bow at his feet and be with those I love and hold dear. I am thankful for this Easter Sunday which reminds me of him.

What's in a Name?

One of the things I hate most in this world is name calling. It is a propaganda technique that doesn't define anything. All it indicates is a dim witted (aaaauuuugggghhhh! I did it!) individual trying to demean someone with whom they disagree or dislike. Any way you look at it, it's dissen'.

Name calling is most often used on playground and class rooms across the country. Bill Cosby satirized it when during a routine he said, "You... you... you... gunky!" I like that because "gunky" is meaningless like most name calling.

I think we can credit George W. Bush as labeling his opponents as being from the "Democrat" party. While his grammar for once may have been correct, it would have been more appropriate to refer to those folks as the "Democratic Party."

When I taught school, it was always a challenge to to learn students' names. If a student was named George, I called him George. Sometimes George would protest and say, "Call me Georgie." At first I resist this, but I came to the point of belief that a student could be called whatever he or she wanted, within reason. Once a student was named Jaime. The class went into an uproar. All Jaime's friends shouted, "No, we call him Loco". Jaime beamed and Loco it was. There was a slight problem when Loco's Mom came in for parent teacher conference and I had to remember to call Loco "Jaime." I hesitated to call him Loco because I thought it was demeaning, but he was a great student.

One young man was dubbed "Molester," by girls in the class. They complained frequently about his roving hands . I tried to catch him, but never could. One day he made me mad and I blurted out, "Listen, Molester..." Before I left that day, Molester's dad was in the principal's office which a hangman's noose, bailing wire and several machetes. I was so shocked by being called in that I couldn't say a thing to the dad. I just told him I would not use that name again in reference to his son or anyone else. The next day, however, having recovered my wits, I came up behind "Molester" and said, "If I have one more complaint from a young woman in this class, I will call your dad and he will know why you have the Molester nick-name. Problem solved.

Of course there are endearing names. The boss of an organization is often called "the old man." That comes from the military and is usually a compliment. Women who lead usually have different, less complimentary names.

My grandson, Jackson, about ten years ago, adapted the name "Bapa" for me. Of all the names I have been called, and there have been quite a few, Bapa is the most endearing and pleasing to me. It is the ultimate compliment! Thanks Jackson.

Casablanca

"Casablanca" was released in 1942 and starred Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, as well as a host of other great character actors. Some have called it the most perfect movie ever made. I would call it the most romantic.

"Casablanca" played a major role in my greatest romance. Just after Christmas in 1969, I arranged to meet my girlfriend, Brenda Mangum, in southern California and take her to meet my parents in Modesto. All did not go well. My parents, who did not want me to marry a Mormon girl (I was attending BYU at the time. I was never sure what they expected me to bring home.), gave Brenda the cold shoulder. During a now famous dinner, my Dad let go with every profanity he had at his disposal. Fortunately, he did not believe in using four letter profanities unless they were of the mild type beginning with "H" or "D." Dad, after all, had some scruples! However, numerous deities were invoked, some of which I'd never heard of even though I had taken a World Religions class the previous summer.

On our way back to BYU, Brenda expressed the opinion that she wasn't sure she could tolerate my parents as in-laws and that our relationship might come to an end. Things were up in the air for several days.

Finally, she visited my apartment one late afternoon. At the time, I was not feeling well, I was stretched out on the couch watching "Casablanca" on TV. We solemnly watched the movie together. I will insert here that Brenda bore an uncanny resemblance to Ingrid Bergman, a beauty who never looked better than in "Casablanca." As the movie came to its heartbreaking conclusion, we were both very quiet. Brenda turned to me with a smile and said that she was mine and I was hers. We were officially engaged within the month. I always felt though, that we were really engaged at the end of "Casablanca." Brenda and I were married in June, 1970.

Brenda and I have watched "Casablanca" many times and have always remembered the afternoon in my apartment. That was over 42 years ago. Three children, two wonderful children-in-law and eight grandchildren later, as the movie's theme song says, "A kiss is still a kiss, a sigh is still a sigh, the fundamental things apply as time goes by..."

Stormy Weather

Recuperating from a bout of pneumonia, has given time for reflection and listening to things I might not have otherwise done. Brenda was playing some old standards on her iPod and a song came on that took me back 50 years. In 1961, my parents and some friends got together at a remote cabin in the Sierra foothills. Although I was 17 at the time, I was sent upstairs to a bedroom so they could party on. My parents were good at that.

As the rest of the kids (I was the oldest) fell asleep quickly, I had only my small transistor radio for entertainment. As I searched the stations, not being much of a rock and roll fan (more so now than then), I found a station out of Stockton that was playing the entire album of Judy Garland at Carnegie Hall. I was blown away and couldn't sleep until the album had finished. Some have called that night the greatest night in show business history. The enthusiasm of that night's audience was palpable and Garland was at her late life height. In over 50 years, the album has never been out of print through records, tapes, CDs and iTunes.

Judy Garland, for all of her problems with alcohol and drugs, had the ability to bring sincerity, emotion and energy to a song like no one else. Some of the songs are on You Tube. My favorite song from the album is "Stormy Weather." Garland convinces you that she is just at the end of her rope and that she may not make it through the song. Less so, but not much less is "The Man Who Got Away," a Garland signature song. Of course, "Over the Rainbow" is in the mix and her version of "San Francisco" is fun, especially if one if familiar with the old chestnut of a movie by the same name.

There are some great singers today, but Garland was like no one else. Her life was tragic, but she left us a great legacy of fantastic music. Take a listen to "Stormy Weather" and let me know what you think!

Judgment vs. Condemnation

We choose friends, we discipline our children, we decide on a career. Each of these eliminates other choices we could make. Each of us has to make judgments. We do it all the time, every day of our lives. I grew up under the tutelage of two parents (fortunately) and have raised three children of my own. As my parents made mistakes, so did I. I tried to improve on their efforts, but made plenty mistakes of my own. Someone once said that each parent damages their own children. Since we as people are imperfect, I don’t doubt that. But there is a difference between sincere judgment and condemnation.

Like most, I have worked in a number of environments and have been evaluated a number of times. Occasionally, I have been judged as the be all end all employee, but most often I have been considered as one of the group who does well and, at times, as the person my superior would most like to transfer out. My performance never changed much, but the way I was perceived was dependent on the point of view of my superior.

Like most, I have had superiors who made me feel like an ant. I have been attacked in staff meetings by individuals who wanted to embarrass and condemn. I once worked for a principal who would go into the classroom and openly criticize teachers in front of students. I was not exempt from his rants. As one is confronted by a parent when growing up, or a superior in the workplace, how one is judged or condemned says a lot about who does the judging.

I have been approached in private, with respect, about how I could improve my performance. This leaves room for growth.

As we all make judgments, it is important that the recipients of the judgment be criticized and not condemned. Condemnation indicates that the person is valueless and has no viable future. It says to another that they have no worth and cannot redeem past deficiencies nor improve.

Judgment and criticism, painful though they may be, leave room for progress. No one deserves to be condemned. A friend of mine is in prison. One might say he has been condemned, but he has used his incarcerated experience to grow, improve and set goals. Even in prison, he has had that opportunity. Whether he achieves or not remains to be seen, but his future can be bright. Condemnation takes away all hope of value and improvement.

It is important to give people encouragement to do better. It is the proverbial breath of fresh air. It preserves relationships and gives the great gift of hope.