What A Way To Start The Day...Under The Control Of Machines

This morning began like most work days...I woke up, got dressed, and headed to my work station. I fired up the computer, was met with the calming twin blue screens, and I clicked to the VPM icon.

That's where the trouble started.

I remember growing up watching movies that depicted a hellish future where computers and robots enslaved humans to do their soul-less mechanical bidding. Well, it's the future and I think we're there. Sure, my telecommuting computer doesn't look like an evil robot, but it kind of is. Because, like many of you, I work at home, and if the computer or phones or internet is down, so am I. I'm powerless, inhibited...in a word, enslaved to the machines.

When I couldn't get in, I sent an e-mail to our computer help desk people. They responded that there was an issue. I had to wait until things changed. 

I waited...

And I waited...

And I waited...

Three and a half hours later, something changed on my screen and I was able to log in and get to work. I'm not blaming anyone, and I apologize if I've given that impression. No, these things happen, they've happened before, and they will definitely happen again. If anything, I'm kind of amazed each time we have computer issues how fast they get fixed.

This is our world. Years ago weather and animals used to have control over humans. Now, it's computers and internet. Thankfully, this morning's events were an anomaly. I'm thinking tomorrow I'll wake up, get dressed, head down to my work station, and get right to work.

That is, if my machine overlords allow me to do so.

Derek And Me...

The other day I was looking at some old photos...I think attending my childhood friend's memorial made me nostalgic. A friend, Derek, who I had not seen since high school, attended the memorial as well and he and I caught up.

As I looked through the old pictures, I noticed something. I had more than one picture of Derek and I standing next to each other.

Funny how that happens.

In the six years of elementary school--kindergarten and grades one through five--Derek and I were in two of the classes together (I can't find the kindergarten picture, so there may be a third...). 

In that 4th grade class picture, Derek stood to my right.

Then, I found one of my favorite all-time photos of my childhood--the team photo of the Farmington Hawks little league baseball team. I don't know when it was taken--I suppose some research on my part and I could figure it out. I do know that as the league and city grew in the years since I was a Hawk, the city gave their little leaguers cool big-league names like the Phillies and the Cards. But back then, we were Hawks, clad in purple. I played whatever outfield position guaranteed the percentage of receiving the fewest hits sent my way, and Derek played catcher--one of the premiere positions. I honestly can't remember if we were good or not, but I did like being on a team with so many of my friends.

In the team photo, Derek stood to my left.

Fast forward several lifetimes and Derek and I found ourselves standing next to each other once again. This time, it was not to remember our elementary school year, or a group summer activity, but for a memorial for a fallen friend, someone who also shared many of those elementary school photos and little league pictures, just not the Hawks.

At the memorial, Derek was back on my right.

We've both changed--Derek and I were once roughly the same height--no longer so. He and I once had full heads of hair--no longer so for me, his looks great. It's weird looking at us now. Two former classmates, teammates catching up. I wonder when we'll see each other again. If and when that happens, I hope we're both able to stand next to each other for yet another picture.

So, This Is Fruit From A Lychee Tree...

On Friday, we do our shopping. We limit shopping to once a week--we tried doing this before the pandemic, but we always seemed to hit our local grocery store several times a week. Ever since March, we've done pretty good about only going out once a week.

And in our local grocery store, they have a wide variety of fresh produce from which to choose. There's bananas, and oranges, apples and peppers. Then, there's a section of exotic fruits, strange and unusual specimens from all over the world. As I passed by, I spotted something that looked like a strawberry, but it wasn't. I snapped a couple of pictures--I thought one might be used for my Pic Of The Day.

Turns out, it was the picture I used.

The problem was, I had no idea of what the things were. I tried being funny, so on my Facebook post, I posted the following caption:

"Maybe They're Just...Cold Strawberries."

Knowing what these things is important when a friend posts the following question on your Facebook picture:

"I've never seen strawberries do that. Are these really strawberries?"

Today, I went on a quest for knowledge. The goal--to find out what kinds of fruit these are. I first went to the grocery store's website and did a search of their available produce. These things were not listed. So, I did more checking. I did an Image search for unusual fruit. A few pages down, I came across what I was looking for. I photographed a lychee fruit.

If you don't know what a lychee fruit is (and I know I didn't...), it comes from Southeast Asia. According to the Encyclopædia Britannica website:

Lychee, (Litchi chinensis), also spelled litchi or lichi, evergreen tree of the soapberry family (Sapindaceae), grown for its edible fruit. Lychee is native to Southeast Asia and has been a favourite fruit of the Cantonese since ancient times. The fruit is usually eaten fresh but can also be canned or dried. The flavour of the fresh pulp is aromatic and musky, and the dried pulp is acidic and very sweet.

So, there you have it. And now I can answer my friend's question. I thin we've all learned a little, don't you?

So...We're Growing Potatoes

I don't know whose idea it was originally, but this spring, we planted several potato plants...

And they've exploded.

Who knew?

We haven't had a lot of success growing things in our garden lately. We used to be able to grow tomatoes without even trying. This spring we planted several tomato plants and some are doing great. Others...not so much. Maybe it's the dirt.

Maybe we're cursed.

If so, the curse has not affected my son's potato plants. Both my mom and dad grew up on Idaho. They grew seed potatoes where they're from. My understanding is seed potatoes are just what the name says--potatoes used to grow other potatoes. I didn't talk to my parents too much about growing potatoes. My mom's family had a dairy farm and my father was a cop when he lived in Idaho. Not that much potato experience.

My son wanted to try and see if he could get potatoes to grow in the state to the south. So far, so good. The plants are huge and we keep having to buy top soil to heap up on the plants. I think we're stopping because if we keep going, the plants will get so tall, they'll impact the sprinklers.

I'm excited to see how this growing experience turns out. He planted Yukon Gold potatoes, and I like Yukon Gold potatoes. Will they get to be monster size like those planted in The Gem State? Personally, I doubt it...it's hard to de-throne a king. I'm sure--if we can harvest them--they'll be great.

Growing potatoes in Utah...I guess it's a thing.

This Time...We Dined In

In the past couple of months our family has made an effort to eat out more often. Before, we'd eat out maybe once a week. We're now trying to help out local businesses at least twice a week. It's not much, but we hope we're helping out.

But, even with this change, we always took the food home with us at ate it in our own kitchen, away from people. Today, my wife and I went on a drive and on our way back, we stopped for Vietnamese food.

And it was good.

Thing is, we weren't home, or close enough to get the food to go, so we took a seat in a nearly-empty dining room and ate in. We were with two other groups (all, spaced sufficiently apart...), one a woman and who I assume was her mother. They chatted about this and that--obviously a need for one of them to vent about things to the other. The second group sat further away--couldn't tell what they talked about. The whole time we ate, the restaurant kept cranking out take-home orders for people like us--those who ate at home.

This was the first time we at a meal inside a restaurant since this began.

If you follow the news--which I try to avoid--you'll see reports of how cases of Covid-19 have increased across the country. It's hitting our state, too. I have no idea what's going to happen in the future. There's no way I could have predicted the events of the past few months. In some states, businesses are again being closed due to the increased cases of infection. 

Even though we ate inside today, I still prefer picking it up and taking it home. And that works...

As long as we're home.

Looking Out The Bedroom Window...

The other night my wife spotted sunlight filtering through the pine trees outside our bedroom window. I grabbed my phone and snapped a few pictures. Like most pictures, the finished product pales in comparison. It was one of those moments where you see nature and it becomes part of you.

Looking out the bedroom window.

The trees...pine trees grown from starts that are decades old. The pine trees have lived on the Taylor land almost as long as I have. When my parents bought the ten or so acres on the hill above old Farmington, they planted two rows of pines. I have no idea what species. They grew as we did, their roots digging deep because they weren't watered much in those early decades.

Then, we developed the land and built a house right next to the mature trees. A few were sacrificed to accommodate the road--sad, but it had to be done. The surviving trees remain north and east of our little house.

Tall trees where we live have a natural enemy--wind. Many tall pines have blown over in our not-so-little town. Each year, a big wind will bring down a few more. I wonder if ours will ever fall. Now that we've lived near them and watered them properly for almost twenty years, they've grown taller still. Plus, they grow together--there's strength in that.

When we built our home, we wanted to build a log cabin. That didn't work out, so we built a house with a cabin floor plan. When we look outside that particular window, pines fill the space. It's as if we live miles inside a forest.

It's a beautiful thing...

Especially when the evening sun filters through the needles of the pines.

I Guess The Covid Tax Has Kicked In...

"Let's do lunch in SLC," I told my boss as we decided where to meet for our monthly one-on-one. "Have you ever been to (said place)?"

"Nope," he said.

"They have the best burgers," I said confidently. And so it was decided. We'll meet at (said place).

I checked their website before we went to make sure they were even open--they were. Yesterday my boss drove north and I drove south and we met at the restaurant/diner. We ordered--unfortunately, the dinning hall was not open so we sat in our cars...we did not see a menu. No problem--I've eaten there many times so I knew what I wanted: a burger, rings, and a drink.

"I'll be right back," the masked waitress said as she took my card. My boss and I continued to chat. Soon, the waitress returned, card and receipts in hand.

"That'll be $17.56," she said and my jaw almost hit the pavement. "Ah, okay..." I said taking back my card. 

"You want to add a tip?"

I almost laughed out loud, but I refrained. "Sure...15%."

In the past couple of months, I haven't gotten out much. Sure, we've patronized local eating establishments. Not much has changed. I've heard a conspiracy theory that there will soon be a Covid tax on goods and services to offset the devastating losses businesses are suffering. I have no idea if there's a Covid Tax--hidden or otherwise--and I have no idea if a burger combo meal at (said place) cost that much before the insanity began. It's highly possible. So, I cannot say with certainty that the high price of lunch (I don't remember it costing that much the last time I ate there--I'm pretty sure I would have remembered...) is due to the current events or not.

But, I was shocked.

I understand the basics of capitalism and market forces. If the restaurant did raise their costs, it was needed. Many such businesses will not survive this, raised prices or not. It's basic economics. The food was good, as usual. I don't know if I'll be returning anytime soon--not because of the food or the service, both were excellent--but I can't afford to spend that much on lunch, and meals costing that much need to be budgeted. 

This may be the way of the future--the new normal--I don't know. If it is, we'll be choosing places that are less "shocking" in the future.

The $40 Bike Rack...

When I bought Donk The Subaru it came with some heavy-duty racks. In fact, the racks were worth half of what I spent on the car. In the past, many of the cars I've had came with roof racks, but I never really used them. I don't have kayaks, or roof-top tents, but I do have bikes.

Now, the issue--I don't have the cash to fork out for a good roof-top bike rack.

I did a little checking and found some cheap racks online, $50 to $100. But, some of the reviews of these products are not good. In fact, many are downright terrible. Turns out you get what you pay for. But, in my search, I found something that caught my eye...an inexpensive alternative.

I thought I'd give it a try.

First, I needed a fork mount. Usually you put these things in the bed of a truck. You hook the front tires in the mount (that's secured to the truck bed...) and you're good to go. An enterprising individual took the mount and attached it to a roof rack, and voila! Cheap bike rack.

I picked up a mount. Mine cost $30. Next, I bought two u-bolts for $5 each. Following the instructions from the cheap-bike-rack guy, I stopped by our Local Cycle Shop (actual name...) and picked up a couple of ruined bike tubes. I cut up the inner tubes, wrapped them around the rack, them secured the mount to the rack using the u-bolts.

It worked...

Kind of.

The problem was the back tire of my bike did not rest atop the other rack. I needed a plank. I didn't have any metal strips, so I grabbed a length of hardwood flooring leftover from when we built our house and attached it. I need to get it stained or painted or swapped out for a metal track.

And there you go--a cheap bike rack. Now, to put it to good use.

A Tale Of Two Lemonade Stands...

Saturday afternoon, I had an errand to run. And so, I got in Donk, the Subaru and went for a drive. I took the upper road and avoided I-15. You see life when you take the backroads, people walking dogs, joggers, yard sales, 

And lemonade stands.

Two, to be precise.

You don't see lemonade stands very much anymore. Maybe they're there, and I just miss them. I don't know, but on my drive south, I saw the first stand by a church. Two boys, a card table, cups, various drinks, and a sign. I waved and kept driving.

At the very next church (and, where I live churches from the same denomination can literally be across the street from each other...) another lemonade stand sprang up, this time, two girls about the same age as the boys. They also had a card table, drinks, cups, and a sign. I did notice their sign listed the price of their product--twenty-five cents. Once again, I waved and kept driving.

After completing my errand, I returned home the same way, but this time, I spotted some loose sitting idle in my car. I decided I was thirsty.

The girls's stand was the second I saw driving in, so on the return trip, it was the girls's stand that I reached first. I pulled over and fished out a quarter. "Do you want ice," one of the girl's asked.

"Of course," I said.

We completed the transaction. I pulled ahead a little and downed my drink. Good stuff! I drove the couple of blocks until the next stand, pulled the car over and lowered the passenger-side window.

"Hello," I said from the driver's seat.

"What kind do you want?"

Wow--choices. The girls did not offer choices, just lemonade.

"What you got?" I asked.

"Lemonade, watermelon, and fruit punch."

I'm more impressed.

"I'll take watermelon." I was feeling a bit zesty.

"How much?" I asked as I fished out another two-bits.

"Seventy-five cents," the boy said as he handed me my drink. I grabbed a few more quarters and handed them over. Good drink, no ice--I wasn't even given the option.

So, there you go. Capitalism at work--what the market will bear. I drove from the second stand wiser...

And out a buck.

Father's Day...What If

I am getting to the age where my friend's parents are passing away. Each year, more and more parents are leaving us. My own parents are gone, but if my dad were alive today, he'd be 95.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

It's odd, celebrating special days on social media. Actually, days like today--Father's Day, Mother's Day, Veterans Day, even Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter--I love! I love reading posts from friends and family on social media as they praise their loved ones. Maybe it's because all the poast are positive.

There's also many posts I read today where people are acknowledging their fathers who are gone and how much they're missed. Those are special posts, too.



What if, this is the last time you'll be able to celebrate Father's Day with your father.

With the events of today, that is not something that "happens," but a real possibility, with Covid-19 attacking the elderly the harshest. Would you act differently if you knew this would be the last Father's Day with your father? I'm sure you would, but that's one of the most beautiful aspects of life...that we don't know these things.

I loved reading everyone's posts today. Let's pray we can post similar things a year from now.

Attending A Memorial...

Ever since I began telecommuting two years ago, I find myself--more and more--actually wanting to stay home. This pandemic gives me a built-in excuse to avoid activities. This past week an opportunity to attend my grade school friend's viewing came up. Aside from the fact that Jeff and I had only connected via Facebook over the past couple of years, it's a funeral. You're literally gathering because someone else can't be there. Plus, I don't really know his family, his kids, his new wife. I wondered if I should even go.

I missed the viewing the night before--I did have a meeting that I could have gotten out of. I didn't--I attended the meeting. Since I didn't work the day of the last viewing and funeral, I knew I could attend. Still, something was stopping me, causing me to second-guess going.

Then, I logged onto Facebook.

Like most people, I have high school friends all over the globe. Ever since the news of Jeff's passing hit, classmates have offered condolences. On the day of the funeral, two friends mentioned how great a guy Jeff was, how they mourned with the family, and both said they wished they could attend the funeral but both were unable to do so.

That's what changed my mind.

Here I was, fifteen minutes from the funeral home and having nothing else to do during the viewing--I decided to go because of dear friends who could not.

When I entered, the only person I knew was Jeff. I spotted his family members, but they didn't know me. I got in line to pay my respects. That's when I ran into another friend who I had not seen in decades. I'm glad he recognized me because if he and I walked by each other outside on the street, there's no way I'd have recognized him. Derek and I chatted, caught up. I met his wife and we talked about things you talk about when you haven't seen someone for a long time.

Our time came to say good-bye. I met Jeff's wife. She thanked me for my blog post, something I was glad to do. I'm happy so many people enjoyed it. She then said something about how life was not going to be easy without him. When she said that and I saw her standing next the the casket of her husband, it reminded me of my mom and when she said good-bye to her husband and my father. My dad passed away months shy of his fiftieth birthday. It was not easy for my mom, either.

As I left, I ran into a good friend of Jeff's, Brad and his wife. After that, came two more high school friends, one of which attended elementary, jr. high, and high school with Derek, Jeff, and I. We caught up and even though I knew hardly anyone else there, I felt like I was with family, people with shared experiences, memories that span almost half a century.

I couldn't stay for the funeral service--I had a meeting I could not get out of, but I am so glad I went to the viewing. The experience confirmed my belief that humans are social animals and that we need each other--when we celebrate and when we grieve. Thanks to Sean and Travis for changing my mind. Thanks to Derek, Carlene, Ronny, Brad, and most of all, Jeff, for reminding me of how amazing a life I've had because I know so many incredible people.

Living In A Small(ish) Town...

There's a tree-lined street that runs north and south in our town, one of several tree-lined streets, actually. The trees on Main Street are sycamores. They grow tall. They're strong...like surviving hurricane-strength winds strong. We know this, because we have had several hurricane-strength windstorms blow through over the years...

And the trees still stand.

This afternoon I attended a memorial service for a friend, someone who grew up in the same small town with tree-lined streets. We both rode bikes on the uneven sidewalks (many buckling because the roots of those sycamores forced them up...). We played in the parks. We picked up candy at the Farmington A/G. We swam at the Lagoon pool.

So much has changed in the almost fifty years since we began grade school in our small town. It's no longer all that small, ever since the dairy and other farms on the west side of town have been converted to homes and a first-class shopping center. 

We're even getting a state liquor store.

But, the area of town, the main and side streets that existed back in 1970 and before, they still remain. Many of the old homes--including pioneer-era homes--are still there. They're a testament to people wanting to live here, people wanting to stay.

There's a lot of insanity in the world today. We are inundated with crap news on a twenty-four hour loop. And even though I came form a gathering where friends and family said "good-bye" to a much-loved man, driving down the main street of a town where I grew up, where friends and I ran and biked and hiked all over, it reminded me of the good that once existed. And as long as the seemingly ever-lasting sycamores stand like sentinels against the wind, I believe much of that good has never left, but is fighting to be seen in a world of confusion.

Living in a small town, or a town that still feels small...well, it's something special.

Turning A Negative...Into A Positive

I work in our basement. There's a lot of things in our basement, food storage, Christmas decorations, camping equipment...

And old photos.

I've got my old photos, old missionary photos, and photos of my own family, wife, kids. The other day I ran across some old negatives. They weren't slides--they were larger than that, and I couldn't tell who was in the pictures because they were negatives. But, because I figured out a way to take pictures of slides using my phone and my iPad, I thought I'd try and turn these negatives into positives.

First, I fired up the iPad with a white background and pumped up the brightness to full. Then, I put down the negatives and placed a clear piece of glass over them so the corners did not lift off the iPad. I thought it would be no problem switching the negative images once I got them on my computer. 

Nope.

Turns out the Mac's photo program does not have that option. 

So, I did a little research. Turns out I can change everything on my iPhone by inverting all screens. Great, I thought. I'll just invert the images, pull up the pictures, take a screenshot of the photos--now, the photos will no longer be negatives--and I'll have fixed it.

Nope.

Turns out, when you take a screenshot of an inverted picture, the phone will copy it correctly, but when you turn off the inverted function, it changes the screenshot photo back to its original...negative.

I can get around it. I can invert the photos on my iPad, then take individual pictures using my phone. Or, I could buy Photoshop and have it do the switch for me. Since I'm cheap, I'll probably do the former and not the latter. There's some great pictures in the negatives, most of them are of my mom and her friends. It's highly likely those friends, like my mom, have passed on. We my never know who's in the photos. Such is life. Still, it'll be fun to see them anyway...

As long as they can be positive.

Something We're Missing...Communication

Last night, our family did something we rarely do--we sat down and watched a political debate. It's for a local election, state governor, and it lacked the fireworks or panache found sometimes in the bigger or national elections, and that's okay.

The fireworks and panache aren't what's important.

By some measurements, I'm not a political animal. I don't watch political programs or follow politicians on social media. I don't even watch the local news, something that I feel has helped me to feel better about myself and about my fellow man/woman/child, and something that has not cast me down to a pit of depression and misery. Sure, I'm not the most "up to date" citizen, but it's something I can live with.

This year we're getting a new governor. Utah's governors, over the past decade or so, have been a series of replacements and incumbents. We have a former governor, a current Lt. governor, a former speaker-of-the-house, and a businessman vying for the job. These are the republicans. In our state, the republican nominee is almost assured to win. Many think this fact alone is the main reason for many of the state's problems. That's a party argument, and to believe that discounts the ability of a good candidate can make a difference--it's party that is either right or wrong. I reject that thinking.

The four candidates had their time under the studio lights (except for one candidate who was in quarantine...). It's hard not to be cynical when listening to politicians speak. They promise, they compare, they contrast, and they speak of better days, if they are voted into office.

Usually, I can't stand debates. But, something about this one (and I admit, I did not watch all of it, but others of my family did...) captured our attention. Maybe it's because we need to communicate to get through these issues and problems facing our country, state, and town.

I don't know if the debate solidified the vote for any of us for any of the choices. But, it was important to give us an insight into these men and some of their thoughts. Politics, like people, are imperfect. We do the best we can with what we've been given--the politicians and their ideas and passion, and the public and our needs and fears.

Soon, the choices will be cut until at the end of the year a new person will get the job. Let's hope we've communicated enough to make the best choice possible.

Time will tell.

"Laurel Canyon - A Place In Time"...A Musical Documentary

If you were to ask me what I new about Laurel Canyon, California before this week, I would have said, "Not much." I heard the Manson murders had something to do with the place. That's about it. This week we watched a two-part documentary series about the canyon. It highlighted a specific time in the canyon's history, mid-1960s to mid-1970s, and it focused on music.

There's a lot to learn about the place.

About the time young talented musicians began filling the nooks and crannies of Laurel Canyon is about the time I came into the world. As I grew up, the music of the Byrds, the Flying Burrito Brothers, Love, The Doors, The Eagles, The Monkeys, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, and even Frank Zappa were filling the airways (okay, maybe not Zappa...). Their songs played on AM radio station across the country. It was the music that I heard growing up even before I knew what a rock band was. I'm too young to equate certain songs with certain events, but the series made me realize just how important this community in the foothills of L.A. meant to our culture and the music world in general.

The documentary pointed out how that place at that time changed society. It was as important to music as Paris is to fashion, or Maranello is to race cars.

It's a little rough, language-wise. I found it fascinating, but I'm sure they only scratched the surface as to the stories and histories that are found carved into the mountainsides of the famous canyon. If you're a fan of the 1960s/1970s Southern California music scene, you must watch this series. It's on Epix. 

There's so little I knew about the place before I began watching the series. I know a little bit more now.

Pitching Sessions--First Time Wearing A Collared Shirt In Months...

Last week I got dressed up, of sorts. I needed to attend a meeting and I wanted things to be a little different than when I participated in other on-line meetings. This time, I was representing something other than myself.

And, I didn't know the people I would be meeting.

I haven't done too many on-line meetings, a few here and there, a couple a week. I know many who are holding a couple meetings every day. Not me. When I normally log into a zoom meeting, the main concern I've had is to be outside of earshot of the dog barking. The best place for that in our house is our unfinished basement. No, this time I wanted to make a good impression, so I went to our local library and used their conference room.

On Friday I was representing Immortal Works Press and I was acting in the official capacity of Acquisitions Editor. The meeting was for pitches of new authors to see if the publisher would be interested in their stories.

I don't have a lot of experience with pitch sessions. In fact, this was the first time listening to others as they pitched to us their stories. I've only pitched a story of my own one time. That happened almost a decade ago.

I've got to be honest--I enjoyed better being on the side that makes decisions than the side that's hoping they like my story. That's only natural.

I heard three pitches, three completely different story ideas, different genres for different audiences. Who knows...I may have heard the storyline for a bestseller. I know both the publisher and the author would love for that to happen.

Friday was fun. I realized, after coming home and changing, that it was the first time since maybe the beginning of March that I wore a shirt with a collar. All those shirts have just sat in our little closet. The way things are going, I may never have to wear any of them again.

Time will tell.

Flag Day, 2020 Version...

I've always wanted a flagpole in the yard, a place to display the flag, to honor it--not only on holidays, but everyday. My uncle and cousin in Idaho built their own. I think that's where I got the idea of having my own.

When my parents built their house decades ago, they removed an old power pole--it wasn't big, maybe twenty feet long. I thought one day I might use that as a flagpole. That didn't work out.

Another thing to consider, when setting up a flagpole is if you want it to fly at night, you need to light it--or you should, anyway. Last year I figured out a way to fly a flag at our house, fly it every day and every night. We didn't build a flagpole, but hung a flag in front of the house. Ever since we put it up, it's stayed, through each season, good weather and bad.

The flag is just cloth, different hues sewn together to form a symbol. What's interesting is, even though it seems the entire world has gone insane, the flag's remained the same. It's older, and a little more faded, but nothing's changed about the flag itself.

Now, opinions about the flag are held by individuals and each person has their own opinion about what the flag means and represents to them and to everyone else. I can't change that.

But, what I can do is--and what I'm going to do--is continue to fly the American flag, especially today...Flag Day. Any symbol should represent the best of things, the best of us. So, a flag can be a promise--if we uphold our end, it'll do the same. 

This year, we're flying the flag. I hope to still do the same when Flag Day comes around next year...and the year after that.

For Jeff...And That Million-Dollar Smile

There's an old joke that goes something like this--When you're a young man, you read the business section of the newspaper, to see how your finances are doing. When you're an old man, you read the obituaries, to see if your friends are still around.

This week, I felt old.

For many of us, we no longer read newspapers--we get our news other ways...Facebook, for example. Thursday night, after finishing up my blog post and posting my daily picture, I spotted a post, a post from someone I've never met. She broke the news that her husband past away the day before. It wasn't Covid or an accident that took him from her, but a heart attack.

The man was someone I've known for decades, a man who, at one time, I counted as a friend, and I suppose I still do, even though we haven't seen each other since our graduation from high school in the mid-1980s...a man who left us all too soon.

As it is with many of the people with whom I attended school, we re-connected via Facebook. I believe a few years ago he reached out to me and we became Facebook friends. He wasn't an avid contributor (or, maybe he was an his and my algorithms didn't line up...), but I saw his posts every now and then. There was one thing, however, that I always noticed--that huge smile. It's in every picture. I know posts and pictures can mask reality--we seem to want to only show our "good" side--but with Jeff, the authenticity exudes from those photographs. And scrolling through his Facebook timelines since his passing, Jeff's happiness and love of life not only came across in the pictures, but was verified by his many friends and loved ones.

It made me wish we could have chatted in person before this past week.

Jeff grew up a few neighborhoods over, next the the cemetery. I may have gone into his house once (memories begin to fade after years and years...). I know his birthday is on July 4th, which, I always thought was cool. Imagine, sharing the birthday with a country and the whole nation celebrating with you every year. I looked at my old elementary school photos. He and I shared a class. I remember him being a stud athlete, too. 

As those of us from Farmington who lived in a time when you could get into Lagoon for free as local residents or could eat at the Tom Boy Cafe continue on our own personal journeys, we'll see others journeys come to an end. Of course, it's not suppose to happen now--maybe in twenty or thirty years. Unfortunately, life doesn't work like that. The greatnesses of life can be offset by the injustices...opposition in all things. Jeff's family is hurting, and all the more so because a man in his mid-50s isn't supposed to leave so soon.

The news floored me, even though we weren't close right now. Seeing childhood friends pass away reminds us of our own mortality--at least, it does for me. Since we don't know the future, we venture forth in faith hoping for the best. I'm sad that Jeff's gone. I pray for his family and friends, and hope they find comfort in their knowledge and memories of a man who loved life--you could see it in that million-dollar smile.

Kathy Tyers "Writing Deep Viewpoint"...I Need This Book

I've been part of a writing group--two, actually--for several years. I'm not to the point where I offer writing samples for every meeting, like a good member of a writing group--two, actually--should do. No, I'm intermittent.

And that works for me, even though I should do better.

But, in the years I've both attended and submitted pages to be critiqued, there's been one main thing on which I need to work...

Point of view, or POV.

It's my Achilles's Heel.

My Kryptonite.

My Pink Panther.

You get the idea.

I always thought writing would be a simpler exercise. You know, you have a story to tell and you tell the story. Of course, I know it's not that simple. It can take a lifetime to master, or several lifetimes.

I've only started Kathy Tyers's book. Hopefully, when I'm done, I'll be a better writer and better able to tell the stories I want to tell. The beginning of her book explains just how important POV is to a story, and the deeper the POV gets, the more involved the reader becomes with the story. When my failings are pointed out to me, I recognize them almost immediately. I suppose it's like training your brain to see something so it becomes second nature.

Like I said, I've only just begun the book. We'll see how it helps, and I'll keep you posted.

Because Of A Thought I Had In 2017...A Podcast Was Made In 2020

Life is funny, sometimes. I know, you only have to look at a news website or turn on cable news nowadays and things don't seem funny, but just the opposite.

Still, there are people out there making art and trying to make the world the best place possible--current events, be damned. One of these people is Jim Christian. Today, as I listened to his latest installment of his podcast, That Old Mouse Magic, I smiled.

I smiled because had a thought that came to me back in 2017 not happened, this particular podcast would most likely not have existed. And because of that, as I listened to the conversation unfold between the interviewer and interviewee, I smiled even more knowing I had a part to play.

In 2017 I was one of a number of Salt Lake Comic Con panelist submitting ideas to the powers that be to see if our ideas could be chosen for the convention. More importantly, I submitted panel ideas to see if I could attend another con as a panelist. Not every idea submitted gets chosen, so you have to "up your game" to get the attention of the programming director for each show.

I remember approaching that particular comic con with a new idea--I was going to pitch Disney topics (I think I pitched four or five for that show...). The reason I pitched so many is because I wanted the con patrons to experience the "Disney Force of Nature" that is Jim Christian. I corresponded with him and he expressed his interest in doing the panels so I pitched panel idea after panel idea. Thankfully, several of my ideas were chosen. The name of one of the panels: Why Do We Love All Things Disney?

When details of the panels were announced, I was chosen as the panel moderator. Other than Jim, I didn't personally know the other panelists, but one was a popular podcaster Holly Frey from the Stuff You Missed in. History Class podcast--one of my personal favorites. The panel came and went and it was a huge success (you can read my blog post form 2017 about the panel by clicking: HERE). I counted my self blessed to be included with so many amazing Disney junkies.

Fast forward almost three years. Jim has begun an incredible podcast of his own and he had as his guest for the latest episode Holly Frey. In their discussion they mentioned the comic com where they first met. They have since vacationed at Walt Disney World together and hearing about their experiences made my day.

Life is funny, sometimes. Sometimes we have no idea the repercussions of our actions--be they good or bad--but sometimes, like today, I saw a direct impact of one of my ideas and how people's lives were--not necessarily changed--but affected by a simple thought. Good job, Jim and Holly! Let me know if you want to do another Disney panel at our next con, and I'll pitch it. Who knows what'll happen? I'm sure it'll bring more smiles to my face, and maybe to others as well.

The Cub Scouts...How Much Its Changed

Scrolling through my social media feed (something I'm doing less and less these days...), I came across a notice that caught my attention.

I had to read it twice. What I was reading made sense, but when I considered what the message actually said, it floored me.

How times have changed.

And yet, it's almost a forgotten change.

The notice was for people living in my area and the surrounding cities. It let us know that Cub Scout Pack 27 in a nearby town was starting. They're looking for kids (and their parents...) who want to be involved in cub scouts to contact them. But what really shocked me is that this pack--this one pack--will be the only one in the southern half of our county.

Unbelievable.

I spent several years involved in the cub scout program, both as an active parent and as an advisor. My three boys graduated from the cub scouts--the last one leaving almost five years ago. I don't know the exact number that constitutes a pack, but to put things into perspective, five years ago, our neighborhood had its own pack. Our town had several dozen packs, and our town was one of the smaller ones. That means hundreds of packs of young boys have disappeared from the program. I don't think I could have contemplated such a change five years ago.

And yet, here we are.

There are numerous reasons for this change--I won't go into any details. Another thought crossed my mind as I read and re-read the words from the post. Normally, something this big would be discussed, debated, considered for months, maybe even years. But now, in a world of impeachments, global pandemics, quarantines, and lockdown, earthquakes, protests and riots, the fact that an entire cultural institution has basically disappeared barely moves the needle. If nothing else, that--to me--is shocking.

Yes, things change, but rarely has so much changed so quickly. We're just trying to keep up. Good luck Pack 27! I hope you make it.

If You Love "Galaxy Quest"...You've Got To See "Never Surrender: A Galaxy Quest Documentary"

You know how it is...you're looking for something to watch (because it feels like you've seen everything you want to see on various streaming platforms...), then something catches your eye. It's not a normal film, or a series, but a documentary.

I'm not knocking documentaries--the format can be one of the most powerful forms of film ever.

The documentary I found was Never Surrender: A Galaxy Quest Documentary and if you love the 1999 Dreamworks film, you've got to see this story. It was hypnotic.

Though very small, I have a connection, of sorts, to this film. I've met the author of the original story concept, David Howard. His story, Captain Starshine, was picked up, then altered a bit. I'm not sure how much was changed, but the documentary implies it was several points. David is a very cool dude and married into a very cool family. Plus, he speaks Danish, so, he's got to be great. People I know attended the premier. That must have been a blast.

We find out things that might have been, actors considered for various roles, and other "behind the scenes" fun facts.

The documentary highlights how Galaxy Quest is an homage to fans of the genre. Speaking of fans, there are several cosplayers in the film who provide testimony of how the film affects them. Two of the cosplayers (at least, two...) have attended Salt Lake's FanX Comics Convention and I love seeing them each time I go.

As stated before, if you have a fan of the film, Never Surrender is a great way to re-live some of the feelings you felt when you first watched Galaxy Quest and when you watch it over and over again. It's currently playing on Amazon Prime, so if you are scrolling through choices, wondering if there's anything worth watching, check out Never Surrender: A Galaxy Quest Documentary. You'll love it.