Choosing Up Sides

I answered the phone last night.  There was a sweet lady on the other end conducting a survey.  Ordinarily I don't have time for such things.  I also resist the fact that they just assume I have plenty of time and never even ask if their interruption in my life might be convenient or not.

For some reason, curiosity I guess, I said I would participate and asked how long it would take.  She couldn't tell me because she didn't know how long it would take me to respond.  That was my cue to take as long as I wished.

The premise of her survey was completely flawed as pertains to me, but still I persisted to the bitter end.  You see, all of her questions wanted to know if I were conservative or liberal.  It never occurred to those seeking the information that there might be people who are neither.

She asked me who I preferred Bush or Obama.  I paused, considering that for quite a while.  When she expressed curiosity as to why such a answer would take so long I answered, "I'm trying to decide if I prefer crap or poop."  She seemed totally lost as to what I might mean.  I explained that I didn't like either one and so was not in a position to honestly answer the question.  I asked if there might be a third alternative.  Nope.

I chose poop.  The next question was, "Do you consider yourself liberal or conservative?"  I answered, "Neither."

"That is not a choice sir."

"Do you want me to lie?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed.

"Maybe I should just hang up then."

"Oh, no, we value your opinion." she declared.  I explained that if she valued my opinion she'd let me answer truthfully, but since she was restricting the answers I could give she was forcing me to lie."

"Can we proceed now," she impatiently asked.

"Of course!"

I decided the only way I could fairly represent my position was to answer the remaining questions alternately conservative and liberal.  She struggled with my inconsistency and accused me of messing with her data.  I tried again to explain that I needed to represent the unrepresented middle and that I needed to average the two poles.  This was way over her pay grade.  We discussed almost every answer so I could help her understand.  I explained that when the left goes to some extreme or other, the right feels compelled to counter with an extreme of their own and vice versa.  I pointed out that when this happens the two sides find less and less common ground.  I stand on that common ground, but nobody is representing me.  Common ground is the fertile soil of common sense and nobody I'm aware of in Washington has a lick of it.  Come to think of it very few of my acquaintances have much of it either.  Of course the Washington establishment is aware of that as well as I am.  They are not bumbling idiots.  They are greedy power mongers whose time is spent securing their own personal interests above those of the nation.  They are not going about this blindly, they know very well what they are doing.

This can only be fixed by term limits.

The economy, the environment, race relations, poverty, military, health and welfare are not the fundamental issues.  They are seen by the controlling elite as means with which to manipulate the country for their own power hungry ends.  We the voters no longer control the system, we are just fodder for it.  Their fundamental tactic is to divide and conquer.  They have succeeded in dividing us and the results are more than obvious.

The Crunch of Sugar on the Kitchen Floor

I awoke from a nap just moments ago and as I walked into the kitchen, felt and heard the crunch of sugar spilled on the kitchen floor.  Sweetie is spending the afternoon at her mother's.  Katie is sleeping off a cold.  Neither are suspects.  The grandkids live through the back gate, one of them is.

Now, I'd rather those two didn't feel they had free rein in our house; especially when we aren't up or around.  Still, I want them to feel comfortable; as though they belong - which they do.  Megan has a lot of energy and ton's of initiative, she is my most likely suspect.  She's turning seven this month and is a whiz at First Grade.  I wonder how to approach this as they will arrive here to be babysat in a few moments.

I often look at the troubled kids at the Detention Center and ask myself, what happened that turned these children from sweet little kids to the pained hoodlums they've become.  Was it a 'sugar-on-the-kitchen-floor' moment when they were seven?  Maybe, maybe not.  But I'll wager that it all started with a gross over reaction to something.  Soon it became a series of somethings and the divergence between the two roads became wider and wider.

I wonder if a parent, grandparent or baby sitter looked at a pile of spilled sugar and thought only of themselves.  Who thought, "I'm tired.  I have to clean up this unnecessary mess.  What did I do to deserve a kid like this?  I can't take this any more. I....  I..... I...."

What if they'd have thought of Megan.  What if they asked, "What did you have in mind when you pulled out the sugar cannister?  Were you successful at making a batch of Kool-aid?  What flavor did you choose?  How did it taste?  Can I have some?"

I'll bet that during the last course of interrogation an apology for the mess, just might be forth coming.  I'll wager that the reason no attempt to clean it up came as result of being called home before the project was complete.  I can imagine that her intention was to surprise me with something sweet to drink...... (I just checked and was disappointed that the fridge didn't hold such a prize.)

It took me all of a minute to sweep and mop it up.  Shall I blow that all out of proportion and send little Megan down a more difficult road?  When you're seven big ideas don't turn out quite like you expect, shall I condemn her to the closet or the corner and commence building a barrier between us.  Shall I push her away when all she wants is to love and be loved?  Shall I punish her enterprise?  Shall I scold her initiative?

She just walked in the door.  I was glad I'd considered some questions in advance.  As a young father I might have sat her beneath a bare light bulb and used her Mom to play good cop, while I played the bad one.  Regrettably, I doubt I was playing.

Kids are quite capable to understanding the magnitude and appropriate consequences of their various mistakes.  Blown out of proportion, this little incident might have driven a wedge between she and I.  I think I'll let her help me decide how serious her little infraction should be.  Kids deserve at least the treatment citizens get in our courts.  They ought to be considered innocent until proven guilty.  A reasonable period of time might be granted before sentencing.  Careful consideration should be given to ensure the punishment is appropriate to the crime.

After supper we decided to have a trial and Jeff (nearly nine) accepted the responsibility to be Megan's Defense Attorney.

Court was called to order and the accused was asked to stand.  Her charges were explained and when asked she pleaded not guilty.  (Now what do I do?)  I proceeded with the trial and asked the Defense Attorney present evidence of Megan's innocence.  He called himself to the stand and confessed that it was he who had spilled the sugar, so it could not possibly have been Megan.  The case was immediately dismissed and the prisoner released.

Another trial was held with the roles reversed.  Jeff plead guilty and we moved right to the sentencing phase.  Megan suggested Jeff's punishment should be that he be required to put make-up on.  Jeff plead for mercy and suggested a week without video games.  "Commit the crime - Do the time," I said.  "Roll the dice - Pay the price", Jeff replied.

Sentencing guidelines considered both suggested punishments to be excessive.  The condemned was asked if he'd like to explain his actions.  He answered forthrightly.  He was conducting an experiment in the process of dissolving a solid in a liquid.  When asked why sugar was left on the floor he plead, "absent minded professor!"  His plea for mercy and understanding carried the heart of the court.  With an apology and a promise to be more thoughtful next time, the criminal was released on his own recognizance.

Best spent spilled sugar ever!

General Conference Was Wonderful - But It Made Me Jealous

I love General Conference!  I was able to listen to every moment of the proceedings.  Each talk lifted and inspired me.

I was so grateful that such emphasis was placed on pornography and the certain possibility of recovery from that and other addictions.

I was also grateful that Elder Packer declared that homosexual promiscuity could be repented of.  I'm sure that will cause a fire storm in some circles.  Gays don't seem to understand that they cannot dictate to the Lord what is right and wrong.  He makes the rules.  As the church is nothing if it doesn't represent God; how can anyone suppose that capitulating to social demands would do anything but destroy the church.  If they honestly think they can influence church policy by protesting what the church stands for, they are of necessity, making the church out to be something it is not.  The church is, after all, a Theocracy.  If it were operated as a Democracy, it would represent the people, not God.

In my youth I was quite jealous of the General Authorities.  They seemed to have such a romantic life, traveling the world, teaching the gospel.  I wanted to be so engaged.  I was also jealous of the opportunities they had to sit in council with prophets and apostles.  I imagine those meetings to be uplifting, harmonious, full of light and love.  In my more mature years it is becoming more obvious how challenging, difficult and demanding their jobs are.  I imagine constant jet lag.  I conjure images of sleepless nights, strange food, tiring schedules and long absences from home.  I remember one day standing the the Salt Lake airport and seeing Elder Neal A. Maxwell walking down the concourse on his way home from who knows where.  He looked resolute, but utterly exhausted.  My heart went out to him as he carried his enormous burden.  I wonder how many birthdays and ball games and school plays and anniversaries they the are required to miss.

My grandkids live right through the back gate.  I am able to serve in meaningful realms right here at home.  I am no longer jealous of their busy lifestyles.  I was thinking today that I shouldn't be jealous of their opportunities to sit in council in their various quorums.  I have a quorum.  Somehow though, my quorum doesn't seem to be following the pattern that appears to transpire at church headquarters.  My quorum is more like a class.  A rather disconnected class at that.  We do precious little to promote brotherhood.  We don't commiserate or council together.  We just sit in the same room for a lesson; one that draws distressingly little comment even.  We serve as individuals, but we don't serve as a group.  We all have testimonies.  I dare say we all love each other too.  We don't socialize as a group.  We don't seem to have a collective purpose.  We accept Temple and Home Teaching assignments, but we seem to content to do no more than we're asked.

I'd like a quorum that was more like the School of the Prophets.  I think we can do this!  I think there a just a few things that would make a big difference.

1. We could sit in a circle instead of rows.  I need to look into the eyes of my brethren, not at the back of their heads.
2. We could actually take on a project, or three.  I can't count how many times I've been organized into a committee around the three missions of the church, never to actually meet or do anything with said committee.  To date, those committees have never actually committed to or accomplished anything they set out to do.
3. We could actually have Personal Priesthood Interviews regarding our Home Teaching and our Quorum objectives.  I heard an example once of a Quorum Leader who held PPI's.  They were such a pleasure that no one missed them and everyone looked forward to them.  He would have his brethren say the opening prayer so he could "take their spiritual temperature" and then seek the guidance of the Lord as to what they needed to yet do to build the Kingdom.
4. We could have a monthly pot luck social during which we could get better acquainted with one another, as couples.  No big deal.  No special preparations.  No assignments.  No dishes.  Just sociality.
5. We could actually study the lessons, rather than have the teacher read it to us.
6. We could actually explore the application of the Atonement to our lives, rather than pontificating about how much we know.
7. We could identify problems and actually work on solutions.

Do you not suppose that this is more like what transpires in the Quorum of the 12 Apostles?  More than what we are currently doing?  I want to be part of a quorum like that.  I don't want to have to be called to Salt Lake City to get it.  I want it right here in the part of Zion that has been granted to me.

Earlier this week I praised the Freedom Ward in Star Valley.  Over the century they've been serving together, they been much like I describe.  The Priesthood has been the governing body in the town.  I remember the topic in Priesthood Meeting once was the acquisition of a fire trailer to be used in fighting fires in the community.  This was accomplished along with dozens of other projects.  They never even considered having the government take care of their needs.  The did that themselves.  They volunteered one another's equipment to help with the crops.  They cooperated in strengthening the gene pools of their herds.  They took turns watching their stock on the range.  They worked together on irrigation projects.  Their quorums had things to accomplish and they did them.

There are some very real challenges in my local, city ward.  We lack the kind of pressing community problems to solve that are part and parcel of everyday life in a farming community.  In the city, though we live closer together, we are actually more isolated and independent.  Also,some of my quorum members meet with Aaronic Priesthood quorums, some are in the Primary.  We need to find a way to include them.  We need their strength.  Additionally, we need to overcome the status quo.  Most of us have never seen the kind of quorum I envision.  It will be easiest to just stay the same.  While I hope not, it just may be that the only way to change things is to start with the boys in the Aaronic Priesthood.  The final problem I can think of is a matter of personal commitment. Like everything in the Kingdom, conversion is the key to motivation.  While many may be converted to the Church, some may not be converted the notion that a Priesthood Quorum may not be what we've always allowed it to be.  Like everything else in mortality, a vibrant quorum requires energy and effort.  It requires vision and purpose.  It requires faith and devotion.  Oh, how I pray we can do this.

A Bridge Across the Span of Years

My Great Grandparents, Samuel and Verena's Grave in the Freedom Cemetery
That's Rex's farm in the background

Thursday I went to Star Valley to the funeral of Rex, a dear friend and first cousin, once removed.  He was a dairy farmer in the family tradition.  We all admired Rex greatly for his remarkable tenacity.  Rex was born on that farm in 1922 and never left it until Parkinson's drove him to the rest home about a year ago.  Rex never went on a Mission or off to fight in WWII, he had cows to milk.  When others gave up farming in harder times Rex persisted and carried on.  I wish we had statistics of how many cows, how many milkings, how many cold, hot, rainy, snowy, windy, miserable mornings he trundled out to the barn.  On the other hand, how many sunrises, sunsets, births, gorgeous star valley days, did he enjoy while we were stuck in our offices or tucked in our beds.

It stirs my heart to think of countless hours spent alongside his children as his work hours were spent at home.  Growing up I had just enough taste of the dairy business and enough pragmatism to make me glad my Dad had given it up.  I couldn't see myself happily showing up in the barn at 4:00 in the morning and again in the afternoon, with tons of chores to do in between.  But I sure admire Rex for having done so, day after week after month after year for eight decades.

Rex lived in the little town of Freedom, Idaho/Wyoming.  Main street is the State line.  Our farms were on the Idaho side.  There is one Ward in Freedom.  The ward has never been divided or changed appreciably in over 120 years.  That's pretty remarkable as many people have lived in several different Wards without ever moving from their original home.  Like Rex, Freedom has a kind of stability that anchors those who live there.  More than that are the myriad people who grew up and moved away, yet still call Freedom home.  I moved away 55 years ago.  Even so, I've returned for reunions and funerals and simple touchstone visits.  And so, I can name Sheri, Lynn, Dean, Elaine, Dee, Fern, Fred, Farrell, Kelly, Robert, Curtis and others who've never left; as well as Rhonda, Julie, Larry, Wayd, Teri, Trudy, Merrill, Joanne, Gerald, Jim, Dan, Polly, Steve, Clark, Marion, Don and others who have.

Up at the cemetery are rows and rows of headstones whose names I am connected to.  Robinsons and Izatts, Heaps, Crooks, Haderlies, Jenkins and Hokanson's as well as my own Webers.  It is a most beautiful cemetery.  It is where my parents, grand parents, great grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins await the resurrection.  The cemetery overlooks the Weber farms that are gradually changing hands.  It is a place of peace and memory and I love to visit there.  This trip was unusual.  The weather was unseasonably warm for late September.  Most funerals I remember were cold and snowy.  My father was buried here in late September eleven years ago, the weather wasn't bad, but nothing like this.  Mom and Joseph, Grandma and Grandpa and Gerry were all buried in the cold and snow.  Statistically, the odds favor snow.  Dad used to say, "The trouble with Star Valley is that if Summer falls on Sunday you have to go to church."

Back at the chapel I sit down to eat ham and funeral potatoes while I visit with three of my kindergarten classmates.  Lynn, Rhonda, Larry and I were all in school together that year.  I left after two months, Rhonda after a year.  Lynn and Larry stayed, and grew up here.  We remembered the sloped wood desks with the lift up tops and having crushes on one another.  So much water under the bridge in the ensuing half century; we all turned 60 this year.  Only Lynn remains in the Valley, so I've seen him more recently.  I haven't seen Larry since 1974 nor Rhonda since 1967!  Still, because of our Freedom connection, we took up right where we left off.

I have not mentioned my brother Brad.  He and I drove up together.  Brad has never recovered from the loss of the farm and this place.  He returns much more often than I.  I remember, even when we were little boys, hearing him sing "Why Oh, Why did I Ever Leave Wyoming."  This trip he is investigating the purchase of a couple of Cemetery Plots for he and Wendy.  After 55 years the place is still calling him home.  He remains a farmer, avocationally at least, and has this place in his blood.

Last night after General Priesthood Meeting, I had a parking lot visit with Dan and his brother Jim.  Dan is a Star Valley expatriate, Jim still lives there.  Always we compare notes.  There are dozens of Star Valley ex-pats in the Basin alone.  You can go just about anywhere and find them.  Star Valley has produced a lot of children over the years but it's economy has never allowed the majority to remain at home.  I consider this a blessing because the result is that the place never really changes all that much.  This trip we noticed a new apartment complex in Freedom.  It looks and feels so out of place there next to the slough.  No body likes the change.  Perhaps with the loss of Rex a good bit of Freedom's long held stability has gone, certainly it will never be the same.