HapPy 94tH BriTHdaY

As part of working custodial for the Joseph Smith building, (my new second job) we are required to work one Sunday in 16. My first Sunday assignment was September 9th. My assignment was the bathrooms in both visitor centers on temple square, 7 bathrooms at the conference center across the street and the public restroom in the south west corner of temple square. Basically, I just made a circle from one restroom to the next for almost the entire 8 hour shift. (1:30-10pm) (my feet were killing me)

HOWEVER - they told us that the four of us working yesterday needed to meet at the break room under temple square at 8:40 because we had to go over to the church office building at 9 to clean up after Pres. Nelson's 94th birthday party with his family. Pres. As we were walking over there at the assigned time, I wondered out loud if the birthday boy might still be there. The others said, "most likely not. He would probably be there for 30 minutes or so and then leave."  I was disappointed but I understood. When we got to the lobby, there were still 10-20 people milling about so we couldn't start vacuuming. The lead asked if I would start gathering up the garbage. One of the security guards came up and said, "I know you will, but make sure you check the bathrooms. There were a LOT of poopy diapers changed here tonight. You may want some Vicks in your nostrils. A LOT, of poopy diapers." I chuckled and said we'd take care of it and thanked him for the heads up.

As I got to the second trash can, I looked to my left, and standing NOT THREE FEET AWAY FROM ME was Pres. Nelson. I looked away quickly and then did a discreet second look. He was just standing there visiting. I was very bummed because there is a "don't speak unless spoken to" rule as part of the janitorial team, so I couldn't even wish him Happy Birthday. However, in coming years I plan on telling my grand kids that I attended Pres. Nelson's 94th birthday party and that I was just over arm's reach away from him at one point. 

No reason to tell them I was taking out the trash. 😉 

One other note - He was the very last one to leave. I'm assuming that he wanted to make sure that whatever family member wanted to talk to him, could.  Not a simple task as he has 10 children plus spouses, 57 grandchildren plus spouses, and 119 Great-grandchildren. 

 

leSSonS THRougH tHe WinDOw smuDGe

                The last entry I wrote involved something I had learned or noticed on my way TO work. This one involves something I learned while AT work.

                My assignment for General Conference weekend at Temple Square was still at the Joseph Smith Building. It was my assignment to keep the glass doors as well as the observation windows on the 10^th floor clean and clear. I would start on the lobby level, then move to the theater level and then up to the 10^th floor.  There are multiple glass entry doors on both the lobby and theater levels. By the time I would get up to the observation windows on 10 and clean them, it would be time to check the doors in the lobby level once again. Each time, I would find new smudges somewhere on the doors. Usually the smudges were below the door push bar and were those of smaller hands, but there were a great number of larger prints and smudges above the push bar. Sometimes I would watch people walk through a door, putting their hands on the glass I had JUST finished cleaning.

Early in the shift, I had just finished cleaning a door and was cleaning the one next to it. A little girl and her father walked up to my freshly cleaned door and the little girl put her hand on the door to push it open. (keep in mind that I was still standing right there, holding the tool I use for cleaning, and wearing a vest that clearly identified me as a custodian) While the girl was pushing the door, her dad said, “Why don’t you push it with both hands.” His daughter put her second hand on the door. She was doing fine with the door and then the father said, “Put your forehead on the door and that will help you too.” Which she did. I’m pretty sure he did that because he saw me standing there. (I have never told ANYONE to use their forehead to help open a door and can only guess he knew the resulting smudge that would ensue.) The daughter dutifully did as counseled and a nice big smudge appeared above the two smaller ones. The two walked through and I stepped over back to a door that I had cleaned less than a minute before which was now dirty again. I was a little put out because of the seemingly deliberate effort the dad put into getting his daughter to mess up the door, but I cleaned it again. It took maybe 5-10 seconds and the door was clear and spotless again.

                Later in the evening, I was cleaning another door and I stepped outside to clean that side of the door. A security person was walking by and he stopped and said, “I just wanted to tell you how great a job you guys do on keeping those doors clean and clear. I always try to remember to use the door push rather than put my hands on the glass, but I know that sometimes I forget. Then I will walk by a door a little later and see someone cleaning it and I think to myself, ‘I hope I didn’t make one of those smudges.’”  I told him thanks for the kind words about the good work we do and then told him not to worry about the smudges he may cause, because that’s what we’re here for. We both then went back to our respective duties.

                A bit later in the night I found myself thinking back on both of those experiences with a different perspective. In our lives, we, hopefully, try to not get smudges on our souls and our lives. We use the “door push” and all is fine. Unfortunately, there are times where outside sources will say, “Why not put both hands AND your forehead on that glass.” Other time we may add a smudge by accident or simply by being careless or thoughtless. The difference for me was how one person was genuinely sorry for any small smudge and the other (the little girl) didn’t even realize what she had done, but in either case, the door was cleaned.  In our lives, our Savior is standing there with the tool he used (the atonement) to simply wipe away the smudges we make. When we say, “I hope I haven’t added to the problem.” He simply says, “Don’t worry. That’s why I’m hear.”

WHerE yoU wanT TO EnD uP

     I've recently started a new second job. I work from 9:30pm-1:30am, Monday through Friday, doing custodial work at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. As I've been driving there every night, I've had something impressed on my mind. Between the time when I get off the freeway and when I arrive at Temple Square, I pass a couple of bars and a strip club. There are cars in all the parking lots every night, and sometimes lined up up and down the street. One of the bars is right next to the oil refinery and the smell coming off of there can be bad, to say the least. Yet people flock there. Night after night, they flock there. Taco Tuesday. Fajita Friday. Other specials each day. The horrid smell does nothing to keep them away. The strip club is at the darkest spot on the road with lane line SO faint, that they are almost invisible, and I find THAT telling in its own way. There are still cars there when I leave.
     The thing that has been impressed on me is how much that is a metaphor for this life. Every night there is nothing to stop me from going in to ANY of those buildings. No one would know me. No one would care. No one, but ME and God would have any idea where I was. However, if I truly want to reach my goal every night. If I want to walk into a building filled with beautiful artwork, amazing statues, and decor and views that are absolutely stunning, then I have to stay on the road. I have to keep going. I have to have my goal in mind EVERY SINGLE DAY.
     We are on the road we call mortality. Along the way there are many places to stop that we can choose from. Our goal is being with our Father in Heaven again. We can stop anywhere along that road. We can take back roads or detours, but if we want to reach the destination we want to end up in, then we need to stay on the road. We need to have that goal in our minds.
     It may seem odd, but I make a point of looking at all three of those buildings every night to remind me of where it is that I truly want to be.

I look.

I smile to myself.

I keep driving on the road.

pAyiNg HomAGe

     I've said before that there's not much in nature that I love as much as a river. The main reason for that stems to my teens and early 20s. My friends and I would go up to South Fork Campground and nearby campgrounds and tube nearly all day every day for days on end. We had the river memorized. We knew when to paddle to each side of the river to stay in the current and in the deeper areas. We knew the danger zones where tubes went to die. We knew which trees were safe to float under and which needed to be avoided at all costs. We could almost do the run with our eyes closed. We would get in the river at different spots in the river, but more often than not, we would float down to my best friend's (Duane) granny's land right on the river. Get out and walk back. We even knew short cuts through certain camp grounds to shave time off the walk back. We would play our tubes like a drum line while walking. We survived cases of sunburn, or worse, tube rub. Tube rub is what you get on your inner bicep when you DON'T wear a 3/4 or long sleeve shirt and then paddle while on an old rubber inner tube. It's a rash that KILLS! We would warn greenies, and then watch with amusement when they would think we were joking about wearing longer sleeves. We always say YOU ONLY GET TUBE RUB ONCE!!!  (Current plastic tubes don't afflict you thus) With all the things that changed over the years, there was one thing that never changed. At the start of EACH run, we would "pay homage to the river gods."  This was our little ritual where we would place the tube in the river, flip it over so the top would get wet, and then flip it back over. We were very superstitious about this. If we failed to do it, we lost tubes, shoes, or other items. Something bad would happen. Always. Without fail.

     As the years have passed, I haven't been able to tube much as all.  Most of the time I'm working when my family goes back up there. This year however, I was in town and I went up. At the start of each run, I paid proper homage and tried to teach my family the importance of the act. They weren't open to this necessity, but I still persisted. During one run on Friday (28th) I decided that I was feeling very nostalgic and was going to float down to my Duane's granny's place for old time sake. I took about 5 nieces and nephews with me and down we floated. As we approached the camp sight, I stood up and walked out of the river to see my friend and his wife sitting by their camper. We had a great visit and planned to run the river together like old times, the next day.

     Saturday we drove 4 pickups full of people up to the starting point and we all got in. My friend, his two kids, and I were the last to start. Duane pointed out that no one else had paid homage. I told him my preaching had been falling on non believing ears. I looked over and saw his kids flipping their tubes. Good kids. So down we floated. The waves of nostalgia were washing over me more than the river waves. The day was hot and the river was cold and it felt wonderful. When we got to the halfway point, most of the people got out, but about 6 of us continued on.

     About half way from there to the end location I heard the unmistakable raspberry sound that signaled that my tube had just become a sacrificial offering to the river gods. I finally got my footing and Duane walked the short way back to where I was. I frustratedly said, "Man, I even paid homage and everything. What the heck?!" His reply was, "Well, you wanted nostalgia. The river gods gave you nostalgia. We have to double up."  I stared at him for a minute and said, "Dude, the last time we had to double up on a single tube we were both nearly 20 years younger and 100-150lbs lighter EACH!" He reasoned that I got what I wanted and we had to do it.

     So gentle reader, imagine if you will, two nearly 50 year old men, with a combined weight of over 500 lbs, sitting back to back on a single tube, floating down the river. I can't imagine what people on the river bank must have been thinking. As we approached their property, Duane yelled to his wife to bring the camera. Thanks to that, we have photographic proof that we actually made it the rest of the way down the river in one of the most ridiculous ways possible. As much as I morn the loss of a tube, I have to admit that it was such a silly situation that I can't help but smile and laugh about it.

     Thanks, river gods. You done good, and I pay you homage.

*flip. flip. flip*

HeLp me waLk

This happened over 8 years ago. The 4 year old son mentioned is now nearly 13. I had forgotten I wrote this down until I found it in a seldom looked in folder on my laptop  He still teaches me.

HELP ME WALK

            Like most parents, I’ve had many days at Church where I sat and wondered to myself “why do I even bother coming?” Between kids fussing during meetings or being so bad that you end up sitting out in the foyer with the other parents of noisy children, I often thought I was getting nothing out of Sacrament Meeting.  Each week my wife and I would pack up the kids and get them to church, only to spend the next 70 minutes pulling out books, or snacks, or holding kids to keep them from running and bothering other members as well.  I always hold our youngest son on my lap so I can better control him.  There are weeks where I couldn’t even tell you WHO spoke, let alone what they spoke on. I was sure that if I wasn’t getting anything from the meeting then what could our children be getting. But, we kept up the routine.

Then one day I was holding my son as usual. My wife had already made the trip to the foyer with our two year-old daughter so I was left in the chapel with our two boys (8 and 4).  It was Fast Sunday and I was wondering how long it would be before I joined my wife. Tanner seemed so squirmy that day.  Then it happened. Tanner said “I want to go up.” I was sure he didn’t mean go up to the podium at say something, as that would be very out of character for him, and besides, what could my little 4 year-old possible have to say.  However, if he really DID want to go up and say something then who was I to stop him.  I made sure that that’s what he had meant and then put him down. It was then that my little son taught me a lesson that I will never forget. He put out his hand and said simply, “You have to help me walk.” 

How many times have we in our lives sat there and thought about going up to bare our testimonies but fear keeps us rooted to our seats?  This little one knew what he wanted to do but his fear didn’t stop him from doing it.  All he needed was his father to help him walk up there.  I took his hand and together we walked up to the stand.  He stood and just said a couple of lines, that I realized later, were his talk from an upcoming primary program and then came back to me. I got up and bore my testimony, but what I said wasn’t as important as what I’d just learned. We walked back to our seat hand in hand. As I lifted him onto my lap, a myriad of thoughts and emotions flooded over me. I thought of the many times that I’ve been afraid to do or try something or just needed help with something in my life and it was brought home that I too have a father just waiting for me to simply put out my hand and say “You have to help me walk.”  Tears filled my eyes as I realized that my son had just taught me a valuable lesson in faith.  I kissed his forehead and I felt his little body quiver like he often does when he’s excited. Suddenly I knew exactly why we bother coming.

An unSuNg ChriSTmaS hERo

My mind has been wandering again. Reminiscing on Christmases past (particularly one from about 25 years ago. More on that in a later entry) and other holiday thoughts. As I drive at night, I look at all the lights and I've been listening to music and talks and articles all to get me in the holiday spirit. Believe it or not, I really struggle with that. Getting in, and keeping the Christmas spirit, I mean. I love Christmas. I really do. But for some reason I also have a hard time. I love the lights especially. I love those people who go MORE than all out. Once upon a time I wanted to be one of those people. At our house we have lights up. Modest, but they're there. We have a ton of decorations up inside the house though. There are reindeer, snowmen, Santas, elves, and a tree loaded with everything from Raggedy Ann to Derek Jeter, Rapunzel to Captain America, and Tigger to Tron.

One thing that Ann has insisted on though is that there is one room in our house where Santa, Frosty, Rudolph, and the Grinch are not permitted. In this room there are mangers, stars, and wise men. There is also a small Charlie Brown tree with a single red bulb.  Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. “Hey, Charlie Brown is the same as Frosty or the Grinch.”  But this tree is an unsung hero of the Christmas season in my humble opinion, and there is a great message to be learned from it. Charlie Brown is depressed because he can't seem to feel the spirit of the season. (remind you of anyone?)  He knows where it's NOT, but not where it IS. His friends all seen to have the answers and even his dog Snoopy know what Christmas time is for. Jingle Bells, lights, pageants, “win[ing] money, money, money” and beautiful metal Christmas trees. Nothing seems to be working for him (as usual) and so he goes to buy a nice tree to help set the mood. And he comes back with the tree you all know. 

Do you remember WHY he picks the tree he does?? "This little tree needs me." He also says that it seems to need a home. So he buys the little tree and brings it back to his friends and they immediately call him stupid, and tell him what a blockhead he is for buying THAT tree. Charlie Brown still thinks it can be a great tree. He sees what the tree can become. He sees what no one else seems to be able to. He still doesn't know what that tree needs, but he knows it needs something and he's going to do whatever he can for it. He walks off with the tree and decides to decorate it. He decorates it with a single red bulb and as soon as he does, it “dies”. Charlie Brown is crushed.

Then the story with the tree switches to Linus. Earlier in the show his sister, Lucy, threatens to hit him if he doesn't get rid of his blanket, but even under threat of bodily harm, he won't give it up. Now, when he sees the little tree needs love, he gives up the one thing in the world that means the very most to him. The thing he loves above all other things. And he does it almost instantly and without any thought or prodding. When he gives the tree THAT kind of love, it's able to not only support the one red bulb, but it truly becomes what it's meant to be. All of a sudden, everyone sees the tree as it is truly meant to be. I think there is a great deal of symbolism in that little moment. Because of that little tree, not only does Charlie Brown find the meaning of Christmas, but all his friends do as well.

Instead of focusing on what they WANTED, Charlie Brown and Linus focused on someone's [the tree’s] NEEDS. Charlie Brown sees that the tree can be beautiful and Linus realizes what it needs to become that way. Maybe we should celebrate Christ’s birth the way he LIVED his life. Find someone that has a need. Find someone that needs a little extra love. Find your own little tree.

ResT IN PeaCe

My mind is been going all over the place today. The death of a friend will do that. It wasn't a close friend, in fact I had never met him. He was part of the Comic Geek Speak crew and community.  His name is Jamie D. His name is adorning my Facebook wall like no other name has. I think that says a lot about the man. Most of these have the term "rest in peace," or RIP for short. We've all seen or wrote those letters hundreds of times. Today however, I've been thinking about the words that they represent. Unfortunately, Jamie's story is not unique. Jamie passed away today after a five-year battle with cancer. The type of cancer doesn't matter, the treatment he sought doesn't matter, the results are still the same. He wasn't the first to die from cancer, nor, sadly, will he be the last. People die from it every day. When you hear people talk about loved ones who have passed away from this disease, it's usually with words like, "he lost his battle" those words are usually very very accurate. And that brings me to the letters.

R I P

As I said before, we see those letters all the time, and we know the words they represent. Today though, I guess I have a deeper understanding of their meaning.

REST - I think of times that I have done anything strenuous. Whether it be hiking, swimming, working in the yard, playing sports, or anything else that wears you out. There's nothing like sitting down to rest. It's amazing how good it makes your body feel. Even just after a long day, there's something special about flopping on the couch or crawling in bed, and resting. I don't think however, that Jamie, or anyone else who happens to be suffering from that horrible disease, especially those in the final stages, did much resting. He may have been in bed, but I doubt he was getting a good rest. There's that "battle," remember. It doesn't call a "cease fire" when someone is laying there in bed. In fact, by then it's raging more fiercely than ever.

IN PEACE - A few days ago I was in a hotel. I was lying in bed. I was "resting" but it was not very peaceful. The people in the next room were noisy. Like, really noisy. The television was loud, the talking was loud, all of that. It's hard not to hear it in hotels. I also think about times when I wasn't feeling good. Like when you lay down when you're having an upset stomach. You're trying to rest, but if anything but peaceful. And there are times I've been in the most peaceful of surroundings, such as in the mountains, and sweating and breathing heavy because of how hard I'm working. It's very hard to really rest in a non peaceful environment.

REST IN PEACE - I guess maybe that's why this is the sendoff we give to people who passed away. They have, as Paul said, fought the good fight. They deserve rest… In peace. No more battles to fight. No more mountains to climb. No more struggles to overcome. Those are the things left to us, left to the living. What we wish for a loved one when they pass, is a rest, and peace. So to you, Jamie D, to all those whose race is over, to all whose battle is finished, to all whose time has come, I say simply rest in peace.

Rest ... In Peace.

mOre Than juSt lOOKIng FOrWArD

     My grandpa Montgomery was a great example to me in a lot of ways and I learned a great deal from him. He taught me the importance of hard work. He use magic to entertain us. And I never doubted his love of the gospel. And, to be honest, there are lessons he taught me that every time I think of, I smirk. There is one lesson he taught me, however, that I think about every single time that I mow my lawn.

     When my grandpa was still alive he had a nice garden out behind their house. Each summer we grandchildren would help him with different chores. Some of us helped a lot more than others. I helped build walls, plant seeds, pull weeds, and irrigate each week. (though often that latter activity turned into a giant water fight with me and my friends.)

     Each spring we would get grandpa's small tractor and get the garden ready by tilling, disking and plowing. Once the ground was ready, we would dig the trenches for watering. I remember the year the grandpa finally let me drive the tractor for this part.  As I drove up the garden trying to dig the trench, I would look back to see if the plow was still in the dirt, then look back ahead. As any of you who would've ever tried this know, that's not the way to make a straight row, and mine was anything but straight. Grandpa told me, "stop looking behind you and look ahead."

     I tried that, and my next couple rows were a little better. But still far from straight. That's when he taught me the lesson. He said "Brian, you can't just look right in front of the tractor. You have to have a goal insight."  He pointed up to the top of the garden where the ditch was that would have the irrigation water in it and the small floodgates that would let water go down each trench in the garden. He said "do you see where the floodgates are?" I told him I did. He said "keep your eyes on the floodgate that you're going to. If you do that, your rows will be straight." I tried what he'd suggested, and I'll be darned if he wasn't right. My next row was nearly straight. It wasn't as perfect as grandpa's row, but it was so much better than my first. And, within the next couple of tries, I had it down. My rows were straight. Every time. I still think about that lesson every time I'm all my lawn. I pick a spot on the fence and I go towards it. I make a straight line, and I think about my grandpa, and I smile.

     In our lives, we can learn a lot from my grandpa taught me that day. If we are constantly looking behind us, will never see where were going, and our paths will veer from where we want it to be every single time.  If we're looking directly in front of us, we can still lose our way. However, when we have a goal in sight, when we look at where we want to end up, our lines are straight and true. A momentary glance right in front of us to be aware of obstacles is okay, as long as you quickly move your eyes back to your goal. The scriptures teach us of a straight and narrow path, and whenever I hear that, I think of grandpa and I appreciate the meaning a little more. I think that lesson he taught.  "Keep your eyes on where you want to go, and you get there." The way may indeed be narrow, but with your eyes on your goal, your row will be straight. Thanks, Grandpa!

PractICE DoesN'T maKe PerFEct

I left home again yesterday. I do this every month. Leaving I mean.  And thankfully, it doesn't get any easier.  I've had this job for over 15 years now, and this particular part of it for three.  Over the past three years I leave the first of every month and I'm gone for two weeks. Away from my wife, kids, friends, family and everything else from back home. While I'm away, I'm very busy. There are early days and late nights and long hours. But, when I sit down to think about it, I'm grateful for that. You see, when I'm busy it's harder to be homesick. You'd think after all this time that I wouldn't get home sick, but you'd be wrong. It's always nice to enjoy Sunday relaxing in the hotel, but those are also the days when I get the bluest. If not for a phone call the home, I could go the entire day and never make a sound. Conversely though, if not for that phone call home, I could go in entire day and never hear a sound. Never hear the sound of my wonderful wife's voice. Never hear my children. I love my job. I mean, I really do. I love dealing with people, being on the road, seeing new places, and everything else that is involved in my job. However, being on the road and being away from my family are two different things. I tell people that all the time. If traveling wasn't two weeks at a time, the way used to be, I’d love this job even more. Maybe someday.  Maybe.  Someday. Until that day arrives though, this is reality. Two weeks away, two weeks at home, two weeks away, etc.  Saying goodbye to the family never gets easy no matter how often I do it. And I pray it never does!

TIcK tACk (thE scARY tOOl, NOT The caNDy)

I was listening to a podcast recently where the hosts got to talking about scary movies and movies that scared them when they were younger. It made me think of an experience I had when I was an early teenager. My two best friends growing up, Duane Park and Darin Bair and I had all decided to sleep down to my grandma’s on one Friday night. Now, this is something we did pretty regularly. My grandma and grandpa owned a preschool and it was fun to sleep out in the school all by ourselves, play games, and just goof off as early teens do. This night was going to be fun for us because there was a show on television that we all wanted to see. The late night movie was showing the movie “Alligator.” This is a movie about a giant alligator living in the sewers, in case the title did not give it away. One thing that we always enjoyed was getting scared. It didn't matter whether was slasher movies or psychological thrillers, as long as it scared us. (though it was usually the slashers) This was a very early in our scary movie watching careers. We were laying on the hide-a-bed watching a small black and white TV which we put on a table at the end of the bed. Behind this was a giant window. Now, when I say behind us, I don't mean behind us and above us I mean directly behind us. What we also didn't know what's up behind that window was my grandfather. My grandfather, bless his heart, I decided to teach his young grandson and his friends a lesson. He fashioned what he called a “TickTack.” (No idea why he called it that) He had taken an old wooden thread spool and cut notches in the edge of it so that it looked very similar to a gear. He then put a nail through the middle and wound string around the spool. When you place the spool against a window and yank on the thread, the edged of the spool make a terrible racket against the glass. Back inside the school, Brian, Duane and Darin were fully engrossed in Alligator. As a commercial came up, I looked over at Duane and said, “What would you do if you looked up in the window behind us and saw a giant alligator?” His reply was, “you mean that window right there?” and then all three of us leaned our heads backwards toward the window. I have no idea how my grandfather did this, but he chose that exact moment as three young teenagers turned and looked up at the window to pull the string thereby making the spool make it tick-tock racket. This particular window had the added effect of being a little loose so it rattled even more than normal. The next thing I remember was being in a different place. I was under the bed.  I'm sure I moved there under my own power, though to this day I have no memory of how I did it. Another friend was in another room and still moving, and I believe bed the third friend had also dove off the hide-a-bed and was cowering underneath it with me.  I don’t remember anything else about that night.  I don’t remember what we ate.  I don’t remember what games we played. I don’t even remember the end of the movie. All I remember is being scared. Probably more scared than I had ever been in my life to that point. Strangely, it’s a very fond memory. I have been scared much more on other occasions, but this one always brings a smile to my face.

OpPosITes AttRACt

I'm in Albuquerque this evening and this city always makes me think of a great friend of mine, so decided to write about another “brother” of mine. When I first met this man I’m ashamed to say I pre judged him on looks alone and could not have been more wrong. I hope I may have learned something from that. As I’ve mentioned before, there are a group of us friends that have played D&D for many, many years now. A few years ago one of our group brought a new player to play. When I first met Russ he had a shaved head, earrings, rings, and I’m guessing bare feet. (I say that because I know him so much better now, that it’s a pretty safe bet) He was loud and sure of himself. I remember thinking, “Dave, what have you brought into our group.” As time went by, he became a real part of the group. My initial judgments proved to be wrong. VERY WRONG.  Yes, he was still loud and sure of himself (and at times VERY opinionated), and he still looked the same way, but I learned about the man behind all that.  We actually became pretty good friends. Then something happened…

            I ask my friends quite often if they want to go with me on my sales trips. Almost always the answer is “no.”  I totally understand that. It’s hard to get away even for the teachers in the group, but I still ask. Well, one time I asked and Russ said he would love to. I was kind of taken aback. We were friends, but I still didn’t consider him a CLOSE friend. But the offer was made and accepted so what the heck. To be honest, I don’t remember where we went, but I think it was Las Vegas. This turned out to be the first of MANY trips that Russ would accompany me on. I really got to know the man behind the shaved head, bare feet, and kilts. (oh, did I fail to mention the kilts?) We have spent probably hundreds of hours in cars and hotels talking about all things geeky and not geeky. We make up games. He introduces me to music that I NEVER would have heard if not for him. (I drive and he picks music from his massive collection) We stop so he can take pictures of everything from a field of flowers to an old barn. We debate which one of us is the bigger geek. (I win that one until his father in law’s name comes up. Oh, his father in law’s name is Bruce Wayne. How awesome is that? J ) We stop to eat at places that I would normally drive by. He has taught me to not “pass by” life. He has taught me to see the beauty in the world around me. He has taught me to not judge based on looks alone. In fact, one of the things I enjoy the most is walking into a store about 3 seconds behind him when he’s wearing a kilt. The looks he gets from locals (especially in small towns) are priceless.

            Another thing that’s interesting about us is how different we are in a lot of ways. I’ve always been a pretty conservative Republican while he’s a liberal Democrat. We talk politics and though I often feel wanting in knowledge in that field, we still have wonderful conversations where we share ideas and opinions without the fear of any anger or animosity. This has been a real blessing of sorts during this election season. If I have a question that I want a liberal view on without the propaganda I can ask. Differing views are just that. There is never any anger or bitterness between us. I’ll also admit that he’s a lot more willing to try things (especially foods) than I am. I enjoy trying new things, but I do have limits, whereas he’ll try most anything. Chocolate with jalapeños in it or hagas, it doesn’t matter. (though he has vowed to get me to try hagas)

            Another great thing is how well our families get along. His girls are much older than my kids, but they really get along almost like family. My kids get excited when they hear that we’re going to Russ and Tamby’s house or that they’re coming to our home. I’ve heard the term “brother from another mother” before and it always made me chuckle, but that really is a great way to describe him.  

FrIEnds I'Ve neVer MEt

     I think the internet is a wonderful thing. It’s made the world a much smaller place. It’s made it possible to make friends you never would have otherwise.  Let me give you a couple of examples. Once, while in the hotel in one of my many visits to Las Vegas, I was surfing for geeky related things and I found something called micro heroes.  These were small gif files of superheroes with heads too large for their bodies.  I was enthralled. These things seemed easy enough for me to make and there were entire web sights dedicated to these little guys. I’m a very visual person. I love looking and things and designing things and Micro Heroes gave me an outlet for both. I started making my own and “collecting” (a real habit of mine) ones that others had made.  It was then that I discovered that there was a group of people, a club if you will, who shared their creations with each other. I signed up for my first internet “group.” I would receive emails from Robert, Kat, Matthew, and a whole slew of others who were just as geeky as me and who just wanted to show off their latest Micro. We talked to each other through these emails and told each other how cool their latest work was. It was nice to have “friends” who were interested in similar things. On one trip to Phoenix I actually got together with Robert for lunch. I remember a coworker marveling that I would just go to lunch with a complete stranger. I told him that it wasn’t really a complete stranger. After all, we’ve shared Micro Heroes and we both liked comics. He still had trouble grasping.

     Anyway, that was my first foray into an online community of any kind, but it wouldn’t be my last. Set the time machine forward a few years and my wife bought me an MP3 player for Father’s day or our Anniversary (I forget which it was) and within a few weeks I had discovered these things called podcasts. I could find programs on the internet that talked about comic books??? That was crazy! I remember the first one I downloaded was a podcast called Raging Bullets. All DC comics! I was hooked. The hosts would talk about DC Comics, but the also talked about being part of the Comic Geek Speak (CGS) forums.  I had never joined any kind of online forums before and wasn’t sure what to expect. I started listening to CGS as well and they often spoke about their forum members like they were friends. I took the plunge and joined. I was very much a “lurker” for the first little bit.  The first thing I noticed was that a lot of the people there all had odd names. There were people like Peter, Bryan, and Shane, but there was also Dr Norge, Rainbow Cloak, and Filthy McMonkey and many, many others. I’ve done my share of chatting via AOL and Messenger so I was familiar with screen names. I picked the one I always use and finally started interacting. I started becoming familiar with the personalities behind the names. Little by little and bit by bit, these strangers became acquaintances and then friends. We discussed not only comics, but politics, family triumphs and tragedies, or the latest movie or TV show. We even have a yearly “Secret Santa” which is just a fantastic thing every Christmas season.  We feel so much like friends and family that I felt and feel like I would be totally at home meeting them in real life. I actually would like nothing better than to meet Sean, Darren, or Scott. (Norge, Cloak, and McMonkey)  These are people from all over the globe and from many different walks of life. People I know I never would have met otherwise. And the internet brought us together. 

One in particular has become one of my very best friends in the world.  Our friendship has grown beyond the forum and the computer.  We converse over the phone at least once a week and sometimes more. We’ve laughed at each other when we make idiots out ourselves, and shed a tear or two when there was no other way to express what needed to be said. He and his family live over 2000 miles from me and mine and yet because of this little thing called the internet (ok, so it’s really quite big) we’re as close as friends that live 2 miles away. I have friends in Colorado and New York as well as Canada and New Zealand. For someone who spent many years with a very small, limited group of friends, the world is now open to me in a very real way. So, to you friends out there. To Shane, Darren, Paul, Peter, Scott, Matt, Bryan, Sean, Leroy, Brad, Ken, Toni, Wayne, Caleb, Murray, Jim, Don, Chris, Frank, Sarah, Adam, Aaron, Kyle, Jamie, and all the others. To all my friends I’ve never met. Your friendship means more to me than you may ever know. Here’s to you. Here’s to friend who have or haven’t met. And, oh what the heck, here’s to micro heroes who started this whole thing off for me.  

piOnEer daY

     Today is July 24^th. Pioneer Day. A day when we Mormons take time to remember the sacrifices of those that came before us. Today we watch parades filled with floats of pioneer or western designs. We read stories of ancestors who may have been among those brave souls that gave so much. We shoot of fireworks and have picnics. We maybe even take time to go to the “This is the Place” monument. This year our family started what I hope can be a new tradition for us. We didn’t have any real activities during the day. In face, I worked most of the day. But after dinner we made some popcorn and re-watched the movie 17 Miracles. It tells the story of the Willie and Martin handcart company. They are probably the best known of all the handcart companies to cross the plains. They left far later than they should have and suffered greatly for it. It’s a very well made feature that, I admit, I can’t make it through tearless.

     One of my favorite things to learn about is church history, and I really stand in awe of what the early saints went through. I wonder how many of us today could stand up to the trials that they did. And yet, I guess that we all go through our own refiner’s fire. They had mobs and newspapers and we have protestors and the internet.  I know there have been times that I’ve thought that I would have stood up to the mobs and proudly stood by Brother Joseph or Brother Brigham. And yet, today, do I stand up as proudly with Brother Gordon or Brother Thomas? Am I as ready to stand and be counted as Latter-Day Saint as were those early saints? The threat to there lives may have been so much more than ours of course, but shouldn’t that make it even easier. There aren’t mobbers waiting to drive us from our homes into the cold of the night, but we fear the “mobbers” of our generation with even more fear than guns and ammo sometimes. I know that I’m as guilty as the next man in this. I fear what others may think sometimes more that I want to follow the leaders. I need to change that. I need to proudly stand and say who I am and what I believe. I’m from Utah. I’m a Mormon with lineage that traces back to Hyrum Smith and Willard Richards. I’m proud of both my heritage and my religion and I will try to stand as proudly today with Thomas Monson as I hope I would have with Joseph Smith. Happy Pioneer Day everyone.

SeeiNG IS alMosT Still nOT BeliEvinG

     Many years ago, while on my mission, I started a project that has blossomed into something that has lasted more than 20 years and now spans 2 generations.  It started with a trivia question in a mission hand book. The question was "Who were the original 12 apostles of this generation?" I started doing a little research in whatever books I could find. (Remember, this is 20 someodd years ago so no internet) I finally was able to get the names of all 12 men and then, as is often the case for me, I took it to the extreme.  I began creating general authoity charts for the First Presidency and Quorum of the 12 Apostles. I began with two men on the 1830 chart and then added the original 12 apostles for the 1835 chart. I searched for pictures in anything I could find. (in later years I not only DID use the internet, but also took trips down to the church archives in SLC.) Whenever the was some kind of change to EITHER quorum I would make a new chart. I began adding cross referenced information below the pictures and looking for different pictures so you could actually see the men age as time went on. You know, just what any normal person would do, right??
   Anyway, as time's gone on, I've actually put together a pretty good little binder full of charts and information. It's been carried to church and my kids, especially the boys, have really enjoyed looking through it. Lately however, Tanner (just turned 8) has REALLY gotten into looking at it and apparently not only looking, but studying it as well. The other night Ann was telling me that whenever the kids play "guess what I'm thinking" in the car, that Tanner always seems to be thinking of some little known apostle form times past. I wanted to see just how much he knew so I asked him a question that I knew the answer to off the top of my head.
   "Tanner, what apostle was ordained in 1900?"
   He looked over at me and with only the shortest pause said, "Reed Smoot."
   I was shocked that he knew that, but decided to try him again and said, "What about 1944?"
   Again the slight pause and then, "Mark E. Peterson."
   Oh, it was GAME ON now! I began throwing dates at him and every time there was a slight pause followed by the correct answer. Even Ann and Parker got in on the game. Parker tried to throw him a couple of times by asking dates where there was no change and therefore no chart.  Those times there was the customary pause and then Tanner would say that nothing happened. By this point, Parker had gone and retrieved the binder and was checking the facts with Tanner's answers.
   At one point Ann asked, "1980?"
   Pause. "No one, but in 1981 it was Neal A. Maxwell. He was ordained when Gordon B. Hinckley was set apart as another councelor in the First Presidencey."
   I tried doing thigs differently by asking him different types of questions like, "When was Amasa M. Lyman excommunicated?" or "When did Marvin J. Ashton die?" He never got it wrong. The only time he got a question "wrong" was when he mistakenly gave the answer for 1954 instead of 1854, but once we corrected him on the right centruy he nailed that one as well. This went on for a good 15 plus minutes. At one point I got my phone and began filming him without him knowing. (If he'd have known I was filming, he would have stopped) I got just ove 5 minutes of him doing this and I'm posting it below so you can see and still almost not believe it. I be willing to bet that I could stack him up against the entire rest of the ward and he would skunk them.   With his autism there are times when Tanner's a handful, but that night he proved that in some ways he's smarter than us all.

THe smEll of heALINg, PeACe aNd LAUghtEr

            “You’re wrong and you owe me an apology!”

            “You’re just hateful and I never want to speak to you ever again!”

            These were words that my sister and I spoke to each other a while ago.  A misunderstanding coupled with an angry response had escalated to very bitter feelings on both sides.  Phone calls were no longer answered, names were blocked from email lists, and pictures were taken off the walls.  Even when the truth about what had started the problem was brought to light the problem and feelings persisted.  Whenever I thought about the incident my anger boiled up in me again.  My sister told me that the negative feelings plagued her every waking hour.  I guess now I understand even more why people use that phrase.  The plagues of old would eat away and consume its victims much in the same way that the anger and bitterness was eating away at and consuming my sister and myself.  If not brought into check the plagues would eventually destroy the bodies of its victims and this spiritual plague was doing that to our spirits.  Even when the olive branch was extended, it was not accepted and in fact, was rebuffed.  I knew I was in the right!  She knew she was!  Neither looked ready to budge and the plague was running unchecked.

            A little while later, I was driving to work one morning when the car in front of me hit a skunk.  I saw the mist of stink rise into the air just as my car drove through it.  I couldn’t breath.  Now, I grew up in a small town and I had smelled skunk before, but this was different!  The smell was so intense that it stung my eyes and burned my nose.  The entire car now reeked of the smell of the dead animal.  I could only hope that I didn’t smell as bad.  I spent the rest of the day driving around the city with my windows down and had bought an air freshener (which only made it smell like the dead skunk had been killed in a strawberry patch).

            Now you may wonder why I tell this story in the middle of a tale about anger and hurt.  Well, later that day I could still smell the “aroma” in my car.  I had been listening a few days previous to Pres. Faust’s talk from April 2007 conference entitled “The Healing Power of Forgiveness.”  In it he said, “We need to recognize and acknowledge angry feelings. It will take humility to do this, but if we will get on our knees and ask Heavenly Father for a feeling of forgiveness, He will help us. The Lord requires us "to forgive all men" for our own good because "hatred retards spiritual growth." Only as we rid ourselves of hatred and bitterness can the Lord put comfort into our hearts…”  Those words had stayed in my head and I guess they finally hit the part of my heart that they needed to.  I said a quick prayer and asked my Heavenly Father to please help me with what I was about to do.  I dialed my sister’s number and when her voice mail picked up I said I was sorry about the words I had said, I told her I hoped she could forgive me, and I told her that I loved her.  A feeling of peace flooded over me.  A few minutes later my phone told me I had a voice mail which said, “Brian, I think we need to talk.”

            I’d like to say that the conversation that followed was all warm and fuzzy, but it wasn’t.  Feelings were still raw, but I kept telling myself that I hadn’t called to make things worse.  At one point after many tears I said to my sister, “You have to just let go of these bitter feelings.”  I told her how peaceful and free I had felt when I finally had.  I told her that I wasn’t trying to preach to her to which she said, “Good. My other brothers have done enough of that.”  To which I replied that that was an occupational hazard for them. (Both are seminary teachers).  This got a small chuckle out of her.

            From there the conversation got much better.  Feelings were discussed and sincere apologies were made.  At one point, I told her about the skunk from that morning and this brought waves of laughter.  I told her I was glad I could make her laugh even if it was at my expense.  She said, “Brian, I never thought I’d laugh with you again.”  I think that was the highlight of the conversation for me.  I was thankful we had gone from “not speaking” to laughing together in the space of 30 minutes.  As the conversation ended I said, “I love you Jo.”  To which she cried, “I love you too Brian.”  We had seen the Healer and the plague had abated.

            I got out of the car and went in to see the customer I’d gone to see.  When I came back out and got in my car, the smell from that morning still permeated the air, but now the smell brought to mind peace, and the sound of my sister laughing.

ThiNGs i EjoyED In 2011

It seems like this time of year that everyone is posting or broadcasting "best of" lists from 2011 so I thought I'd be a lemming an do the same. Now granted, some of these might be comic related, but there will also be other things as well. If you don't care what I like, (and let's face it, why would you) then by all means stop reading. Otherwise, read on. If nothing else this can be a fun reminder in times to come as to what things I was enjoying in the year 2011.

Best TV Comedy - Big Bang Theory - Seriously the funniest thing on TV right now for me. I actually laugh out loud at least once in every episode, and most times more than once. I can't relate to them on an intellectual level of course, but the geeky side of them makes me laugh every time. Another thing I enjoy about it is that Ann and I both really enjoy it so it's a show we can watch together.

Best TV Drama - (tie) Castle - Another show that Ann and I can enjoy together. Nathan Fillion is great. I think he's the "big kid" that a lot of us wish we could be. The whole cast is a great ensemble. There is an ongoing storyline in the background, but most of the time the episodes are stand alone episodes.  There is a great mix of drama and laughs in this one. (tie) Sons of Anarchy - Where Castle is a mix of drama and comedy, SoA is full on hard core drama. It revolves around an outlaw biker group called (strangely enough) Sons of Anarchy or SAMCRO. Violence, language, and very adult themes abound in this, but it is so incredibly well written. The acting is top notch and there are twists and turns that you never see coming. This show is NOT for everyone, (and to be honest I'm kind of surprised that I like it as much as I do) but if the things mentioned above don't bother you, you may want to give this a try.

Best Book (non comic) - The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins.  OK, this one kind of wins by default because it's the only novel I read (and when I say "read" I really mean "listened to") this year. I had heard so many people talking about this series that I finally decided that I should give it a try. Set in a future where the U.S. has crumbled to 14 districts and most people can't even feed themselves, this series poses some interesting questions and situations. Action packed and interesting characters. I heard that a lot of people didn't like the ending, but I feel like it ended pretty much how it should have. I'm looking forward to the movie coming out in March of 2012.

Best Book (comic) - Aquaman. That's right, Aquaman. Geoff Johns and Ivan Reis are knocking it out of the park every issue. Even though it's only 4 issues in so far, I look forward to this title every month. They have made me care about a character that has always just kind of "been there" before. I never hated Aquaman, but he was never more than just another member of the team he might be on at the time. Johns has given him a personality that has really made me like him. I've always been a fan on Geoff Johns so I went in with pretty high expectations,  and I was actually very pleasantly surprises at how much I enjoyed it.

Best Song - Loser Like Me - I'm pretty much "GLEE'd" out as far as the show goes, but I still enjoy the music and this song was a favorite of mine for a long time this year. The words made me think of High School for a lot of reasons, plus it just had a fun as heck tune. I remember rolling the window down and the radio up a number of times in the summer while this song was playing.

Best CD - Darius Rucker "Charleston, SC 1966" - I was never a big Hootie and the Blowfish fan so the fact that I enjoyed this CD so much really came as a surprise.  He has made a great trasition to country music. There is a great group of songs that just make me feel good to listen to.  I think my favorite songs from it are "Southern State Of Mind", "In A Big Way," and "I Got Nothin'." It actually came out in 2010, but I got in 2011 so it made the list. Another reason I like this so much is the fact that my son, Tanner listened to "Come Back Song" ONCE and then sang along with it the very next time he heard it. It always amazes me with how his memory works. Good music folks, good music.

Best Podcast - Legion of Substitute Podcasters - With all the time I spend in my car, I have a TON of time to listen to podcast after podcast. I have a great list of podcasts to listen and I really enjoy all of them. CGS, GeeksOn, and Stuff You Should Know for example, but the guys on LSP have a way of making you feel like you're just sitting with a bunch of friends shooting the bull. I'm sure the fact that I was a guest on the show 3 times this year is also a factor, but Paul, Darren, Matt, and Scott entertain me each and every week. I look forward to them more than any other podcast out there and actually plan my listening to them for driving stretches where there will be the least ammount of stops and disturbances. LLTS!

Best Movie - Captain America: The First Avenger - My wife would disagree, but I liked this for a number of reasons. It was a great WWII show, it was a great action movie, it was  a great character movie, and it was a great comic book movie. I really enjoyed the interaction with Steve Rogers and Dr. Erskine. They did a great job of showing that it was the MAN that made the hero, not the hero that made the man. Even the Red Skull was "believeable" and done really well. A close second would be X-Men: First Class.

Funniest 70 Minutes - John Pinette: I'm Starvin' - I put this on one night in a hotel and by the end of the routine my sides ached, I was out of breath and tears were running down my face. There were many times during the routine that I COULD NOT breath because I was laughing so hard. I would also hold the pillow up to my face because I knew I HAD to be disturbing the people in the next room because I was laughing sooo hard. I have actually watched it a couple more times since then and though I dont laugh quite so hard, it is still laugh out loud funny.

Best sales trip - August - I had to put this one in here because that was the trip where my son, Parker, went with me. Just the two of us for two weeks. There were times when I knew he wasn't having fun and times that I wasn't either, but for the most part it was absolutely fantastic. We would swim almost every night in the hotels and we went to a water park in Tacoma, WA on the weekend. We talked about all kinds of different things and it took me back to the times when he used to travel with me all the time. I can't believe he's 11 now. Anyway, we also stopped at a "Man v Food" diner. I can't wait for him to go with me next year.

Well, there you have it. If you're still reading then...well, I don't know what that says about you. I'm sure there are other things I could add, but that's it for now. Overall 2011 was ok, but I'm really hoping for more from 2012.

2 hOUrs aS SANtA

     This year I got to do something for the Christmas season that I've never done before. I got to play Santa at my family's Pre-school. The guy they regularly get had a scheduling problem, so I was asked if I could fill in. I said sure. When the day arrived I arrived and went into my Grandparents' old house to change. Apparently the person that they had borrowed the Santa costume from was a BIT shorter than me because the pants only came to about 3-4 inches below my knees. Now I realize that they were probably meant to be short so you could tuck them into the boots, but with the boots on, I would still be showing far to much leg for Santa. Luckily my Grandma had an old Santa suit with longer pants. Then came the second size issue. The boots were a full size too small. It took a huge effort to finally pull them on my feet, but even that task was finally completed and then it was just the finishing touches. At one point, my wife came in and I asked her if I needed a pillow to which she quickly said NO. (not quite sure how to respond to that) Finally the time came to go out and meet the children. I spent the next two hours sitting and visiting with the kids. It really was a fun experience. The kids would come in groups of about 4 and I would have about a minute with each. 
     There were two kids that stand out. The first was a little girl. (all the kids were 4 years old, by the way) This little girl came up and sat on my lap and I talked to her the way Santa alway talks to children. When I finally asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she kind pulled away and looked at me funny. She then said, "I've already told you like three other times." It was really hard not to bust right out laughing. I thought quickly and told her that I talk to soo many children this time of year that that is why I always check lists twice. She seemed to accept that. Of all the responces I thought I may get, THAT was NOT one of them.
     The second was a very cool experience. This time it was a little boy. Before I go into that I need to set up something. Sitting next to me were three bins(bags) with little toys labeled "boy", "girl," or "nutral." As each child was through, a helper would give a present to the child and then the child would go to a table and open the gift. This particular group came when my helper was taking a potty break. The boy came up and we exchanged pleasentries for a bit and then I asked the magic question. He told me that he really wanted a toy bow and arrow set. I told him that a toy bow and arrow is a big responsibility and that if he got one he was never to shoot it at anyone. He nodded his head and said, "Oh, I know!" I wished him Merry Christmas and reached in the bin labeled for boys and gave him his little gift. He wa the last in the group so I was able to watch him open the gift. It turned out to be a small toy bow and arrow set. He just looked at it for a second then back at me. I gave him an exagerated wink and he beamed! I think this particular boy may believe in Santa well into his thirties. It was fun to see the magic for him. All in all, it was a fun way to spend a couple of hours. I tried to be more than a standard "what do you want for Christmas" Santa, but talk about what they had asked for, or if they asked for something I knew a little bit about I could expand on it with them. My geekiness really helpped out there. When I finished I went back to the room where they had all gathered and wished them all a Merry Christmas one last time.

Then I went back in the old house and had to get those small boots actually off my feet. haha

hEaLiNg HaNDS

     Something I love doing more than pretty much anything is singing. I love music! It’s magical. Music has powers that can’t be found anywhere else. Music can bring you to the verge of tears, or the edge of rapture. I’m one of those people you see/hear as you drive around that is singing at the top of their lungs. Windows up or down. Songs from male singers or female. I love music! I’m sure that there will be more entries regarding music, but in reality, this one has almost nothing to do with music, and yet, it does. Confused?

     Back in 1998 I had started a new position at work. I had taken what would become the first of my sales routes. This one covered Arizona, New Mexico, and western Texas, as well as south eastern Utah. I had been doing it for a few months. I liked it well enough. I was gone for 10-11 days at a time. This was before I was married and I really loved being out driving around. (I guess some things just never change) Anyway, I started having odd pains in my chest and abdomen. At first I chalked it up to my new lifestyle of sitting for long periods of time and greasy foods, but as time went on it got worse and worse.  Eventually I went to the doctor to find out what was going on. By now Ann and I were engaged. The doctors couldn’t seem to figure out what was going on. At first the thought it was probably my gal bladder, though that was quickly ruled out. Then strange growths we seen on my lungs.  I was terrified that it might be cancer, but after a couple of weeks the growths had doubled in size. The doctor told me that that was actually good news. WHAT? He said that it was growing far to fast to be cancer. That was good news. So what is it? Well, that part they still didn’t know. Test after test were run and everything came back negative. Meanwhile I was feeling worse and worse. I’d gone in for a biopsy on one lung and still nothing. Eventually it was determined that the doctors were going to have to go in and actually cut a piece or two of whatever it was off my lungs and have a better look. The day came and I went under the knife. They had to deflate my left lung to do what they needed. When the surgery was completed I was in the ICU for a day or two. I remember being told that my friend Justin had called or come to visit, but because I was in the ICU I didn’t get to see or talk to him. I was eventually moved to a regular room where I spent a little over a week. Ann and my family would come to visit. Crazy thing was that the doctors still didn’t know what the heck was growing in there. I actually started planning my funeral at one point. Morbid I know, but what else was I going to do all day in the hospital bed?

     I was finally release to go home, but my lung capacity was still not good so I was hooked up to oxygen. (My friends told me later that they thought they would be attending my funeral as well.) Then all of a sudden the things started shrinking in size! What the heck?! The main doctor told me that he was pretty sure it was Coccidioidomycosis, though tests were still coming up negative. (by the way, they never did figure out what it was. How crazy is that?) I was on oxygen for a little over a month. I had exercises to strengthen my lungs and I did them. I couldn’t sing. I couldn’t hold a note because I didn’t have the lung capacity. I was getting better though. Then one day I was driving up the street and I had a CD playing (of course) and a song began playing. This song was already a favorite of mine, but it was about to jump even higher on the list. I tentatively started singing and I wasn’t running out of breath. I was doing it. I was singing again! I raised my voice even louder as the song progressed. When the song finished, I had sung every word. I actually had to pull over I was so excited. It was the moment where I knew I was going to be fine. I could sing. My lungs were strong. To this day, “Healing Hands” by Elton John will cheer me up better than almost any song. See, totally not about music, and yet totally about music.

i kNow TherE's a JOKe in thErE SomewheRE

     I have decided that going on the road in November is something I may try to avoid as much as possible in the future.

     I wrote a little while ago about what happened to me last year right before Thanksgiving, well though not as bad in most ways, I had another crappy November business trip.

     This year I was doing my new truck stop route for work which I started back in January. It’s a big route that takes me across northern Nevada, down to central California, up through Oregon to Tacoma, Wa. then over to Spokane, Wa., down to Boise, Idado and then across I-84 to home. It takes me two weeks to complete. I love being out, but I really hate being away. (If you think those are the same things, you’re sorely mistaken.) 

     I had a new location to set up this trip and wanted to make sure I had plenty of time, so I’d done a couple of late nights and early mornings. I was running about 1 stop ahead of schedule. That may not seem like much, but moving one location up early in the trip can actually shave off a whole day by the end of the trip.  I was feeling very good and enjoying my favorite things to listen to while driving. Podcasts. (See my last post) I was just entering Oregon at about mile marker 6 when I felt a jolt and the car just stopped working. Some things worked, some didn’t. Luckily my brakes were among the working because I was coming down a pretty big hill. Really I had just come over a small mountain pass so the roads were not only steep, but curvey as well. The POWER part of my breaks was gone, but I was still able to stop without incident. (phew) I got out of the car and began to look it over. Everything seemed in place to my EXTREMELY untrained eye. I got back in and tried to start it up again, but all I got was a sound I had never heard before and it wouldn’t even turn over. To make matters worse, it was starting to snow. (wonderful)  I had no idea what to do. I didn’t want to call a tow truck just yet. I guess I was hoping that some Good Samaritan would stop and be able to say, “Oh just do this.” and get my car going again. I have to say that I got pretty peeved when not one, but TWO police drove right by me without even slowing down. (Must have been in a hurry to set up a speed trap or something.) I really didn’t even know which town I was closest to so I could start looking for a tow truck. Finally a Hwy Patrol stopped, but all she could do was tell me that Ashland, OR was 6 miles away. I found a towing company with my phone (ahh technology) and finally got towed into town. Once there the mechanic did some checking and told me that he was almost positive what had happened. Apparently my timing belt had slipped (or whatever it is that they do which is bad) and that most likely caused even more damage. He said that to just do what he needed to do to make sure would cost $2000 just in labor cost and then parts would be even more. I guess that at this point I should mention that we had just paid off this car ONE WEEK before and I’d put new back tires on it just 5 days earlier. It turns out that the car isn’t even worth $2000, although it was worth far more to me. You see, this was the very first car in my life that I had paid off completely.  All the other ones had been traded in (or totaled last November) before being paid off. After weighing all the options (of which there really weren’t a lot) I started making calls to try and sell my newly paid off car. I found a company who offered me a good price so, just like that, I had a buyer.

   Of course now I still had the problem of being in the middle of my route with no car. I looked into renting one, but a one way rental would have cost more than I just got for the car. My company then said they would use air points to fly me home and then I could get a car and drive back. (That was very nice of them.) So Saturday morning (Nov 5) I flew home and spent the rest of the day with my family which was a nice break. I then borrowed my mother-in-law’s car (she doesn’t drive so it was readily available) and on Sunday I drove the 18 hours back to where I was. Monday morning we finalized the deal on my old car and I was off. Leaving the old car behind was pretty emotional because that car is more my office than my space at our home office. I’ve driven that car to and through 11 western states and it’s always been good to me. I know its quirks and such. It was almost like a friend. In less than a year, BOTH of our cars were gone while I was using them on road trips.

   Anyway, now instead of being ahead of the game I was 2 days behind schedule. No way to really make it up, but there’s a part of me that says, “We can do this. Drive and work fast and we’ll make up the time.” (totally NOT possible by the way)  Well, I got to my first store and took care of things there and headed out. Things could only get better now, right?

I wasn’t 30 miles away when I got the flat.

Friends I've Never Met

     I think the internet is a wonderful thing. It’s made the world a much smaller place. It’s made it possible to make friends you never would have otherwise.  Let me give you a couple of examples. Once, while in the hotel in one of my many visits to Las Vegas, I was surfing for geeky related things and I found something called micro heroes.  These were small gif files of superheroes with heads too large for their bodies.  I was enthralled. These things seemed easy enough for me to make and there were entire web sights dedicated to these little guys. I’m a very visual person. I love looking and things and designing things and Micro Heroes gave me an outlet for both. I started making my own and “collecting” (a real habit of mine) ones that others had made.  It was then that I discovered that there was a group of people, a club if you will, who shared their creations with each other. I signed up for my first internet “group.” I would receive emails from Robert, Kat, Matthew, and a whole slew of others who were just as geeky as me and who just wanted to show off their latest Micro. We talked to each other through these emails and told each other how cool their latest work was. It was nice to have “friends” who were interested in similar things. On one trip to Phoenix I actually got together with Robert for lunch. I remember a coworker marveling that I would just go to lunch with a complete stranger. I told him that it wasn’t really a complete stranger. After all, we’ve shared Micro Heroes and we both liked comics. He still had trouble grasping.

     Anyway, that was my first foray into an online community of any kind, but it wouldn’t be my last. Set the time machine forward a few years and my wife bought me an MP3 player for Father’s day or our Anniversary (I forget which it was) and within a few weeks I had discovered these things called podcasts. I could find programs on the internet that talked about comic books??? That was crazy! I remember the first one I downloaded was a podcast called Raging Bullets. All DC comics! I was hooked. The hosts would talk about DC Comics, but the also talked about being part of the Comic Geek Speak (CGS) forums.  I had never joined any kind of online forums before and wasn’t sure what to expect. I started listening to CGS as well and they often spoke about their forum members like they were friends. I took the plunge and joined. I was very much a “lurker” for the first little bit.  The first thing I noticed was that a lot of the people there all had odd names. There were people like Peter, Bryan, Paul,and Shane, but there was also Dr Norge, Rainbow Cloak, and Filthy McMonkey and many, many others. I’ve done my share of chatting via AOL and Messenger so I was familiar with screen names. I picked the one I always use and finally started interacting. I started becoming familiar with the personalities behind the names. Little by little and bit by bit, these strangers became acquaintances and then friends. We discussed not only comics, but politics, family triumphs and tragedies, or the latest movie or TV show. We even have a yearly “Secret Santa” which is just a fantasticly fun thing every Christmas season.  We feel so much like friends and family that I felt and feel like I would be totally at home meeting them in real life. I actually would like nothing better than to meet Sean, Darren, or Scott. (Norge, Cloak, and McMonkey)  These are people from all over the globe and from many different walks of life. People I know I never would have met otherwise. And the internet brought us together.  One in particular has become one of my very best friends in the world. And we have never met.