Church Education, What Have Ye Done To Me?

I went to a BYU Alumni event last week to hear the venerable Dr. Susan Easton Black (pictured right,) address “Martin Harris, More than a Lost Manuscript.”   She has submitted the topic to Oxford.  It’s all very exciting.  

"Hot dog",  I'd thought. "This'll be a plate of scriptural meat for sure."  (I always think  in witty puns, you know.)

Karren Ashley and I headed to the beautiful Hinckley Alumni Building to first labor through a plate of mystery meat to arrive at the real entree, Dr. Black.

She quickly went through a timeline of Martin Harris' life accompanied by a Power Point presentation, and then and then . . . Wait!!

 She's bearing her testimony!  She's winding down!  She's done!  Noooo.  They're now giving her the lovely parting gift!  That was just the appetizer, wasn't it?  I have the attention span of a gnat and yet it's over?

These people have never been to a Church Education presentation.  That was nothing!  (I’m using way too many exclamation points.)  I wander off to my car, drift home and wonder what happened.

I guess it's all in perspective. I think I'll just have a Diet Coke and watch an episode of NCIS.

You Too Raisins?

Guess what?  The little Sun Maid Raisin Girl has gotten kinda chesty in the last couple of years.  The manufacturer claims it's because they want to raise the awareness of health among consumers.  Let it be announced from here to there from there to there that no one is buying any of it.  Sex sells,  and they know it.

But there are people getting hurt.  People like young girls who look at themselves and think that something's wrong with them.  Mothers of those girls are going nuts trying to keep them happy with themselves. Sox stuffed in the bra doesn't work anymore.  Victoria's Secret is a collossal engineering feat.

This has gotta stop.  Surgery for Christmas?  Where are the men?  Are they so darn stupid to be able to delude themselves?  It's plastic implants that are still in the grave long after everything else is back to dust for Heaven's sake.

Why aren't the men speaking up?  At least the smart ones?  It might be a little embarrassing, but it's important.  Huge boobs look stoooopid.  And while they're at it, why aren't they mentioning it to a few advertisers, television stations, producers, magazines and to anyone who will listen?  It's worth it.

And while they're talking, mention other stuff like troweled-on cosmetics, weight loss madness and hair-looney products?

They want strong women?  They're not going to get them by allowing women to become trampled down by anyone, including women themselves, telling them they are inadequate.  Power and strength comes from places of power and strength.  Neither of which is found in a sense of inadequacy and manipulation.

And who knows?  Men might save themselves a little money and time in the process.

http://finance.yahoo.com/family-home/article/108296/sun-maid-girl-makeover-sparks-controversy.html?mod=family-love_money

Obama, I'm Not Liking You So Much Anymore

Currently I'm considering writing a letter to someone but I'm just not sure to whom.  Maybe to Obama but that would require eating crow.  I've even been forced to speak up for him at about every turn here in Utah, most notably at Church because I thought (think) he is fabulous.

But things changed when I couldn't get a flu shot.

Couldn't find one.

But then neither could anyone else.   But then I finally did find them.  I went down to sign my name on the dotted line only to learn that I'M TOO OLD!!  That's right.  You heard it here.  I even explained that I went through chemotherapy twenty years ago, and lack an immune system in spades as a result, but that fell on deaf ears.  No one cares about my extenuating circumstances.  This is the reason I've decided to blame Obama.  Someone's got to take the blame.

Remember some months ago, the Internet went nuts saying Obama's Health Care Plan said he wanted to kill off old people?  I was no fool.  I didn't want to read 2,000 boring pages but I knew politicians weren't stupid.  They wouldn't put something like that in writing.  I didn't believe it.  But now I do.  He's trying to kill me!

So I got the flu and have really been sick with it for one reason or another for over a month.  Currently I feel like crap because I have a bellycular (my word for "stomach") hematoma from coughing my lungs out and I feel terrible because it's infected (well, duh.)

Did anyone hear about heading to the border for flu shots?  I'm still in the market.   I don't want any more of this sickness business.  I refuse to die.  I know it would only please the president.  I don't want to do that.  I also plan to blame Obama for any misery that I might have along the way to Mexico.

Anything besides the fact that I live in the greatest country in the world, I'm grateful for everything I have and that I am and for the very life I am living.

Drat.  I guess that negates everything I said heretofore.

This also explains why I've not been too regular with my blogging.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  I think I'm seeing shooting sparks now.  I'll go rest somewhere for a minute.

Sickness and Other Close Encounters

Well I spent a lot of hours in the emergency room a week ago Saturday because my tiny heart hurt only a little and my hands were pulsating (doctor's word)  

and my breathing was a little labored.  Big deal.   On the infamous  scale, the pain in my chest was maybe a one or a two.  That's all.  Just a little  scary.  That's all.  The woman who did my chest xray and I had a  pretty good laugh about it when I mentioned that I hadn't intended to remove my clothes even, then paused and wondered how many times that had been the thought when going to parties.  Har de har har har.  Very funny.  

A  perfectly beautiful fall day wasted and my visiting teaching calls hadn't been made either.

I had gone to the hospital all by myself in the first place because Carl had been blighted with the flu for a week and Brad was home with Julia and Sophia who had the flu.  They needed an angel to hover. 

I only wanted to go over the white card they used to have on the back of the doors in waiting rooms to see if I had symptoms sufficient to be checked out.  I guess Ali  could have come with me because she is the only one not under quarantine.   But she is four and I suspect she is akin to a monkey and would not be the best company in a hospital.  Sigh.  But they told me to undress and proceeded to test me from about 3 PM to 10:30 PM.  

My room was freezing, and in a phone dead zone.  Another part that was really  special was that this was a brand-new hospital and that the key test equipment wasn’t working and so nothing was decided!!!!!   (It is poor form to use multiple exclamation points.  In fact it is poor form to use exclamation points at all.)

I played 20 gazzillion Backgammon games and 299 Gin Rummy games on my  

iPhone until it was dangerously low on juice and put that to sleep, then just waited until they sent me packing. 

The story I might continue later if I decide to, but the short version is that about four demons converged upon me at once causing me such pain, including, probably, the pig flu.  A pox on whoever stole my particular dose of the vaccine, BTW.  

Did You Know Mormons Are People Too?

I usually am the picture of calm and annoying optimism because, hey, what could go wrong anyway?  And besides that, if I keep my breathing shallow, my pants aren’t too uncomfortable yet.  But what’s going on?  The Mormons are taking it in the neck for no apparent reason these days.  

There are times when you can get a little critical of us.  We are a little cautious of outsiders, particularly when it comes to our children.  We also flinch at salty, blasphemous and vulgar language.  It’s just built into the package.  And sometimes it seems a little thin-skinned, but be patient.  We’re actually pretty decent people.

Sometimes we get a little critical of ourselves, in fact.  Mormon Mean Time is ten minutes after the hour, for example.  You should have heard us go after flowered dresses a few years ago and and the word “freak” can really set us off.  We can be narrow and small-minded.  Work with us.  

But this is ridiculous.  The other night on Cold Case, there was a story about a serial killer from Provo, Utah who got his killing start when a girl he had a crush on undressed him and showed his garments while at a showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Not only was it really disrespectful of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but of Christ in general and further to that, the Facts Checking Department really fell down on its work.  Doesn't what hurts some of us, hurt us all.

Then yesterday there was an item published that indicated that the Mormons were behind the failure of the Maine Same Sex Initiative, but the guy in the picture was wearing a blue shirt, which the Mormon missionaries do not wear and there was only one guy, which is not how Mormon missionaries work.  

Then today on Twitter comes this: http://www.getreligion.org/?p=20859

I'm aware that this item is pro-LDS, but I'm just kind of mad that it has to even be published.  That's all.  People can express their opinions.  This is a free country.  But I think fairness is what I'm calling for here.  


Believe it or not, we want misery and placelessness for no one.  What we want is family and inclusion for everyone.  We don't want to dictate what another believes but we don't want mandates for what we believe either.  But please, don't let anyone accuse us of doing or saying things we did not do or say and do not let anyone portray us as something we are not.  And further, try to defend us when you see it might be needed and we will try to defend you when we see the see the same.  We will all be better for it.  

Facebook Fracas

It all started out rather inocuously.  Lulu*, a Friend on Facebook wrote:

“I just saw an article on MSN about the Cosbys and Obama. Sometimes I feel like the only one who is indifferent to the fact that Obama is black. Maybe it's a generation thing? If someone 'appears' qualified and competent, their race doesn’t matter.”

It continued on with other comments for awhile until "Zach” chimed in:

“There will be a lot less racism when the older population dies out. These old farts that I work with will, on occasion, drop the "N" word and also talk about mexicans. I usually don't say anything, but once I called a guy out because of how he described asians. I am a little more sensitive having a biracial relationship and having biracial kids.(by the way, Obama is biracial, but everyone calls him black).”

I, then, a  vision of decorum weighed in:

“Zach, I feel you've got some bigotry going on. some of us older people lived through the civil rights times and it meant alot to us. Don't put anyone in a collective to be dismissed. You may be giving up some of the best that is in us.”

Zachy then retorted with indignation and shock:

“I don't have any bigotry and I relay (sic) on the older population for an income. I sell hearing aids. I get a lot of racist comments from my patients. They think that I agree with them because I am white. All these guys lived through the civil rights movement as well, but it doesn't stop them from dropping the N word in front of me. And if you are commenting because I said old farts, then I apologize. I bet my definition of old is older then your definition. I feel some one in their seventies is young, eighties are getting up there, and ninety is old. I have a patient that is 103. See what I mean?”

I didn’t respond because I think everybody could see through it, but if I had, I might have said:

“Sputtered denial and back-pedaling is not evidence that you’re not a bigot, but your first comment is evidence that you are.  It would have been better had you just kept quiet and let the thing die. And just because you take money from your older clients doesn’t mean that you like or even respect them.  You use them.  That doesn't make you superior.  It makes you a user.”  

I still want to get him, though.

“Name changed to protect "Lulu's" innocence.  Zach is not a friend and I doubt he ever will be.

A Ticket to Nowhere

I got a speeding ticket while on an errand of devotion, if you please, and if that were not enough, the ticket was totally undeserved.  I know what you'd say.  You'd say that everyone says that, but in my case it's true.

I was driving east off of I-15 concerned that I not be late for the funeral of my friend, Robert Matthews.  He was a very kindly, beloved, long-lived man, so of course he had lots of friends and I wanted to visit with his widow, Shirley, for a minute, and to see him one last time.

In the rear-view, I see the officer,  blue and red lights ablaze, urgently gesturing for me to pull over.  I comply.  I think for certain I've run a stop sign because there was nothing else it could possibly be.  Ha!

"Do you know the speed limit along here?" he asks.

"I don't know.  About forty maybe?"  I say.

"It's twenty-five and you were going fifty."  The sounding clunk was my heart sinking.  The squishy sound was my eyes bulging.  I am incredulous.

The street is right off I-15 and is a real boulevard.  Five lanes maybe or at least three really wide ones.  A main drag.  I sit in silence doing all things right yet still get a ticket for "only" ten over the speed limit.  Ninety dollars for the ticket and sixty for the online driving class.  No wonder Lindon City can afford the big-deal office building.

I had to drive to Lindon to pay the ticket and get the driving class going so it doesn't show up and clobber my insurance rates.  While driving down there, I build a full head of steam about what I'm going to tell them about their little money-making speed trap and how I hope their city dies on the vine from people avoiding driving through it at all costs.

When I get down there, however, everyone is so darn nice.  Even when I complain that it was a speed trap, the woman merely says nicely "I'm sorry."

I pursued it.  "That's a main road to State Street from the Interstate.  Twenty-five is ridiculous."

"Well," she says, still sweetly and without a note of sarcasm, "there are schools and rest homes all alone there."

"They should teach their children to stay out of the road," I respond lamely, making a stupid attempt at a joke.  She laughed.

The thing that really made me mad on top of everything else was my parting shot:  "The officer was really nice when he gave me the ticket, though, and gave great directions to the funeral address."

"Thanks for saying so," she said graciously.

I hate nice people.  They ruin all my fun.

Sudoku Sucks

That's it. I've gotta get this off my chest. I've had it with my Sudoku Iphone app.

I was careful, slow and methodical at first. All the things that my father recomended I be. And I thought I was doing things right. I would look at the possibilities, discount some and employ others. But I never engaged in risky behavior. No, not me. I always was sure of my numbers. And I remained in the bottom 25 per cent of players for most of the time.

Then I got sick of doing things right. I started losing patience. I started getting wild. My fingers started moving faster in merry abandon. If I'd make a mistake, I'd hastily change it. If that was wrong, I'd just blithely change it again, and again and again if necessary.

Then -- you guessed it -- my scores started to come up. I first got 67 per cent and couldn't believe my eyes. It didn't seem I was moving that much faster. Then 81 per cent, 84 per cent and on and on. When would the madness stop?

Then on August 15, I sat on the couch and didn't move. I got 92 per cent, then 93, 94, 96 and finally 97 per cent. Not in a row of course, but it was amazing. Then it suddenly occurred to me. Sudoku isn't an intelligent game that requires impeccable precision. All it cares about is raw speed and mistakes can mount up like cord wood so long as you're speedy at correcting them.

And what kind of a message is that giving to us young girls!?!?!? I've not played since. And I'm not playing again if it doesn't have more integrity than that.

The Craze Is Over. I'm Left With Carl ('s Jr., That Is)

I love jalapeño burgers from Carl's Jr though they are really, really messy. I eat them because they are good and because they are the last vestige of low carb eating done in the United States. Now that the craze is over, there is nowhere, even in health-food stores, anything low carb. There's not even no-sugar Popscicles left in the grocery stores.

And since I'm unable to eat sugar and flour anyway, and since low-carbing is the only way I can lose weight, I am left with a few Atkins bars, salad, steak, hamburger and Carl's Jr. Jalapeno burgers. I'm just saying. They are beautiful.

And speaking of beautiful, that's me in the picture.

Seminary Principal Arrested

I am heartsick about the seminary principal in Utah County who developed a sexual relationship with one of his students. In fact I feel like punching his headlights out. He's caused great pain to the entire Church Education Program.

I used to think that the CES was kind of overreacting when they began to forbid hugging students, especially at graduations, emailing students and any displays of affection between adult leaders. This included Priesthood leaders.

This is really a difficult thing because a special bond does develop between a seminary teacher and his or her students. We were advised to not counsel with students about their personal problems but to refer them onto Priesthood leaders. Wise counsel, but sometimes immediate needs were not met. We were advised not to talk to students in our offices with the doors closed and also, all office doors for teachers had windows in them to forstall problems. This I understood. Now text messaging, which didn't exist when I was a seminary teacher, undoubtedly will be off the table for teachers even to the extent of having addresses and phone numbers for group announcements perhaps.

I know for most it's unbelievable because most, meaning the men that I worked with, would never have gotten themselves into this mess. But It's happened once and we must shut our feelings down even more just in case it might happen again, even though we have hundreds and hundreds of teachers who wouldn't think of even taking that first step into forbidden territory.

It's too bad because children need adult help. And seminary teachers really are as good a possibility for this as anyone. But circumstances are such that this aid is no longer even hinted at. I hope no one maintains any long-term hurt from this but it's a pity that any long-term help is not longer there either.

Just Sayin' . . .

Michael Jackson was talented. I don't think anyone argues with that. I liked "Billy Jean" and "Thriller". The Jackson Five emerged from Gary, Indiana while I was living in Chicago. I even remember vaguely a performance of his with Brittney Spears, maybe at a half-time of something, that I thought was really good entertainment. I really loved his Simpson's episode. Really loved it.

It's just that he did get pretty weird in the interim and it's amazing to me that a whole swath of people has emerged that seem to have better place twenty years ago screaming for him. Where have they been waiting quietly?

I think today's excitement is fine. I also think it's something interesting to do on a long summer day. I just hope that my great-grandchildren won't still be wearing t-shirts with his likeness on the front.

Slogans are Forever -- Taps Aren't

Our two-year-old Moen kitchen sink faucet is dubbed "Buy it for looks. Buy it for life." I loved it when I first saw it. Now, I'm not so sure.

Guess what? The tap squirts out all over the place and the sprayer won't even work at all. It should simply be solved by a trip to Standard Plumbing but no, they don't have the plastic little fitting that goes inside. The one that's cracked. So, as suggested, we head to A-One Parts to see what they think. A little later we learn that the faucet and fitting are OBSOLETE. That's right. They are out of production. All that is left is a Xerox copy of the "Aberdeen" in a blown-apart illustration. Nothing in stock to make things all better. Our lovely two-year-old tap.

Gorilla Glue is holding body and soul together at this point, but who knows how long that will last. I'm not sure of the Gorilla Glue slogan, but could it outdo "Buy it for looks. Buy it for life"? I'm not really secure in that.

When Flaws Collide

Well, good morning. I woke up today with my right eyeball fully bright and red like the sun. It looks awful. Julia, the daughter-in-law, cringed, squeezed her eyes shut, turned her head away and said ewwwwwwwwwww.

I should go through crowds shouting "make way for one who is unclean". I feel hideous. Isn't there always something? Bad hair, big zit, pants too tight? This is infuriating. Yup. There's always something.

Further, I hate my phone. It's a Treo from Sprint and people always complain that I'm not answering my phone. On occasion, I hear a little "ping" from my phone and if I look, I'll find a contact (phone number) highlighted. But I don't usually hear the "ping". I just miss the call. Don't "Trouble Shoot" for me. I don't have wrong settings or my sound turned off or anything like that. It's just a crappy phone.

Today it hit the fan, though, because I missed a call from my doctor, as re: my eye. Two pains converged. When I called immediately back, I got the recording of course. This sucks. I'm heading to the Sprint store AGAIN to try to figure this out. While there, they won't be listening to me either because they'll be busy being grossed out by my eye.

And those of you who have great hair? Don't you ever complain to me or say you know just how I feel. Great hair is compensation for anything short of chemo. Bad eye, stupid phone, fat behind. All that would be okay, I bet, if I just had great hair, but too bad. Thanks for the moment. I needed the rant.