Benefits of Union Membership

Sometimes you spend forever to find great stuff and other times, you stumble right on it.

We head out to deliver some cookies, and my son Brad, takes us on a little side trip to a wonderful spot he found while driving his UPS truck around. My heart, stars and garters indeed, we found a baby shetland pony out grooving in the clover with his mother. He was beautiful. He wasn't afraid of us, either. He trotted over to the fence and sniffed our hands for sugar cubes or whatever he hoped for, and went on his way, nursing, resting, and generally being adorable.

Above is his picture with four-year-old Alison. That's how little he is. He is now about thirty pounds. He was fifteen pounds when he was born two weeks ago.

I love Brad's job with UPS. He shows us the best things. Union guys? They're a good thing.

The Paralyzing Power of Headaches and Bad Movies

I didn't write yesterday nor today because I had nothing really good to say. Yesterday I stayed in bed with a killer headache and today I have the residuals. (By that I mean a tiny headache and still only a modicum of a will to live.)

Further, I saw a disappointing movie the night before. We saw "The Soloist" with Robert Downey Jr. (How could you go wrong?) and Jamie Foxx. We even went late at night since that was the only showing. It was good, but not great. I think a true critic would say it lacked focus. Fishermen would say the water was a little muddy. An artist would say the lines were blurred. I'd say that I came out of there wishing for more. Carl's response was that it wasn't his type of movie, but it could have been. The story is about a Julliard man who left because of schizophrenia and was living on the streets of LA playing a violin with two strings who dreams of recapturing his days with Beethoven. He is found by a newspaper reporter named Steve Lopez who tries to save him. The story is true. How could they lose? I don't know but it just wasn't great. Even popcorn and Diet Coke couldn't do it.

Tonight, however, recovery should take place. Sophia and Ali are in a dance recital. Right now they are in a two-hour practice session, which should be hilarious since they are six and four and have the attention spans of a two and four year old. It will redeem it all. I have hope. What have I more?

From the Sublime to the Sublime

Yesterday while in line at Costco, I asked the man behind me to save my spot while I dashed for bandaids. When I returned, slightly breathless, he told me he was ninety years old last week. He was amazing. He looked much younger than I thought a ninety-year-old man should look, and his face was beautiful -- bright, smiling, intelligent -- I don't know what I expected but definitely something more decrepit. It was great to see him. He did me a world of good. He made me very happy just with his robust, charming good nature.

Then within an hour I was holding little McKenna Haacke, two-week-old daughter of Liesl and Corey Haacke and sister to CJ. She's tiny and beautiful. She also did me a world of good with her gentle smallness, her sleepy, trusting nature and her pliable little body adapting to my chest. Her head was warm like babies head's are, her little hands and arms were curled in and her legs were so skinny and small, they were barely noticeable. I was overwhelmed by her helplessness and by how protective of her I felt.

Sometimes when I get tired of not having the energy and strength that I used to have and seeming to some to be a little past useful, I need days like today. I love life in all its manifestations and I'm not going to forget these two people. They meant a lot to me.

Cemetaries Are Regenerative

We put flowers on my parents' graves in Provo yesterday, and it occurred to me that the race is on to be buried near them. We offspring have about five spots left around them, and the first to die win. I have four brothers and we own the plots as a group, and I guess respective spouses are planted nearby just by default. Do the math.

Our parents' plots in the Provo City Cemetery are in a wonderful place. Bullocks are near, and the Finlaysons. The Drs. Clark are nearby but I guess they are no longer a problem. And with my parents close by, the odds are better that we'll get flowers occasionally than if we're buried in South Jordan or Sandy though I'm sure Brad and Julia will stop by South Jordan to keep us company. My second choice, however, would be the Salt Lake Cemetery though I suppose my four grandparents are all ready knee-deep in neighbors with no more room for us.

Cemeteries are wonderful places, especially on Memorial Day. Even my granddaughters seemed to enjoy walking among the gravestones and flowers looking for the graves of babies. I love reading the dates on grave stones, love to read the odd and obscure comments and enjoy seeing names of families I knew from Provo. I only wish ordinances didn't prohibit more versatility and creativity among stones, but that's to be expected, I guess, if you want the lawns mowed. I like the benches, too. I've always told Carl I want a bench with the words "Come sit a spell" written on the side. Who knows? Maybe he'll provide me one. He just better not go first. I'll put a really rude comment on his bench if he does.

My parents graves, however, remind me that parents are missed no matter how much time has passed. It's been twenty years, almost since they died. I'm only one year younger than my mother was when she "shot-on-over" on Halloween night in 1988. What a perfect night to go. She would have loved it if she had not planned it. She had made the whole thing begin in a holiday mood by being born on the first day of spring, 1920. Was she terrific or what?

Weighing in on American Idol

I was shocked when my Facebook pals were thrilled with the outcome of American Idol. I didn't even watch the show this year except for bits and pieces, but I was totally crazy about Adam Lambert from the moment I saw him sing "Ring of Fire". Then I played "Mad World" over and over again. I was never disappointed in what I saw on Utube.

Now I know he wears makeup and I'm not convinced that earrings on guys around here in Utah is the deal. But I like his hair, I like his style and I really like his low-key demeanor and terrific responses to the judges' reviews. I think he's a class guy with a whole pile of talent and appeal. Though his look is a little over the top, his presentation never is. I don't think he ever was disreputable. He never addressed "sexuality". He just sang like a champ.

The other guy -- Kris Allen. I am not a real fan of country music, but I don't think there's much memorable about him. He's kinda boring. Except for "Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone." That's a great song even when I sing it, though.

Maybe I love Adam Lambert because I loved the big-hair bands and their craziness in days of yore. Maybe it's because people explain their gladness he didn't win because of fears of what he might represent. Haven't people done that for years? Elvis is an institution today but in the fifties, he was dangerous. I'm not so sure that the Christian vote, if that's what did it, made the right choice this time. But maybe it's just me.

I love Abbey on NCIS too.

Oquirrh Temple Open Houses Begin

We went to the neighborhood showing of the Oquirrh Mountain Temple this morning and were totally thrilled at how beautiful it is inside. It's tiny too. The rooms only accommodate about twenty-people, but there are sessions going on both sides which both end up in the same Celestial Room.

The decorating theme has alot of eternity circles in it and four-point stars in the opaque windows which catch the sun beautifully. Rich and elegant, but definitely with clean lines and lots of white and gold and open airiness.

Can't wait to get it open and functioning now.

I can definitely see why they chose that spot for the Temple and I'm so glad they did. It's on a unique promontory and you can see it from everywhere. It's always a nice reminder of who we are. It always gives me a little lift when I see it. It's so wonderful to have it in the neighborhood.

Steps and Mortar Boards

Granddaughter Ali has a certain swagger today. She graduated from Miss Karen's Preschool. It was a lovely morning, complete with caps and gowns. Max cried because his hat wouldn't stay on and boycotted the proceedings by sitting down, but other than some other hats coming off, everything went without a hitch.

The Alphabet Song was probably sung with most gusto, but "I Love to Eat, Eat, Eat Apples and Bananas" was close. Maybe ten or twelve songs in all, sung with waxing and waning heart. Then there was the parade of grads and a diploma, complete with a hug from Miss Karen. Cookies and water followed as the grads and their parents exchanged well-wishes for the summer.

Steps in life generally increase in difficulty, but along with that comes increased competency, it is hoped. With cherished teachers like Miss Karen, how could we go wrong? But then we sometimes do. Maybe it does have to do with the hugs and cookies. Maybe also a mother who drives you to school both figuratively and literally?