Give Thanks...To Know These Wonderful Men Better, Even After They've Passed

 Yesterday, the community said their good-byes to an incredible father, husband, and friend. I was unable to attend, unfortunately, but when reading the obituary for JT, I learned more about him than I knew before. 

I suppose that's a positive that comes from such a solemn event...

One of few.

I first met JT decades ago when he married an absolutely wonderful person. I did not know him, but I knew he had to be a quality person for her to choose him, and everything that I learned from him and about him since only confirms those initial impressions. The last few years were tough on him as his health deteriorated quickly until, at the end, there was just no more fight left. My heart breaks for my friend and her family. 

JT was a creative...an artist who worked in creative fields all his life. When our oldest son was a toddler, JT cast him in a short film. I have great respect for those who don't just think about creating new art, but actually do it. What I didn't know about JT was after graduating college, he moved to New York City and worked in several off-broadway productions. How I would have loved to know that, to be able to spend an hour or two just to ask what that was like. I guess that conversation will have to wait.

It reminded me of two other funerals I attended, one in person, and one over the internet. Years ago, a writer who mentored literally thousands of writers and who helped inspire millions of written words passed. It devastated the local writing community. A speaker at his funeral--I believe it was a brother, but I could be wrong--talked about how my friend worked as a butcher in his younger days. I would have loved to talk to him about that. My mother worked in a butcher shop for decades to support our family after my father passed away. I felt sad I didn't get a chance to ask him about those experiences.

The other funeral happened last year when my supervisor and friend passed away. I listed to his brother talk about Darren's love for wrist watches. I had no idea. I have so many watches stowed away in drawers and boxes...most of them inoperative, but had I known, we could have talked about watches when we met each month for my evaluations. On the day of the funeral, this small fact of my friend made me miss him even more.

The optimist says one can find good in any situation. Optimists should add that, though possible it's sometimes difficult to see the good in some things. I'm thankful that I knew these incredible men, hence, the good. Each time, after hearing of things I wish I knew before they passed, it opened my eyes that I should be less selfish, less self-centered and get to know people better. Even though I can't know everything, I'm trying to know more.

And that's a good thing.

Give Thanks...For Wonderful Memories And A Great Cause

 This photo popped up on my Facebook feed today. If you don't know anyone in this photo, you'd think it was just another group of young adults posing for an event. I suppose the hair styles gives it away that this photo was not taken recently. It's actually almost thirty-five years old. You may not know them, but I do,

Each and every one.

This group met for university credit every weekday in a deconsecrated religious building at the top of 3rd West in Salt Lake City. We gathered, rehearsed, practiced some of the most beautiful music ever written, and threw in some B.D.Q. Bach for fun. We shared jokes, smiled a lot, allowed the time in that room to rejuvenate and recharge our crazy hectic lives. Looking at those faces from decades before, I see souls yet to experience the joys and heartaches of life. Many married fellow choir members...most of the unions remain to this day, some did not. I see lawyers, doctors, professionals from several fields. As far as I know, there have been no deaths...but spouses, well, life is incredibly cruel sometimes.

The photo was not in my feed to reminisce about a wonderful time in our lives, but for a higher purpose, something more noble. The gentleman, front row, far left is Dr. Michael Huff. A quick internet search will tell you more about this amazing musician and human. Music has always been a part of his life. In our choir he was the assistant director and accompanist. He's now the Director of Choral Activities at Snow College in Ephraim, Utah. The gentleman at the opposite end of the front row is Dr. Ed Thompson.

I can count the men who have had the most influence in my life on one hand...Dr. Thompson is one.

I sang in Ed's choir for four years. Since that photo was taken, we've each gone our separate ways, made choices, sacrificed, lived. Dr. Thompson continued directing the choir he so dearly loved for several years, then retired. I know Dr. Thompson impacted my life greatly. The same can be said for many of us. Dr. Huff, who worked with his mentor as a contemporary, has done something wonderful. A new scholarship has been created, the Edgar J. Thompson Endowed Scholarship. You can find all the information on this program by clicking: HERE. 

If I could, I'd fund the whole thing. However, if you have the means and are looking for a worthy cause to enrich musicians's lives, consider donating. It will guarantee the name of a great man will live on.

I'm thankful to have been part of something special, something that I still miss these many years later. Knowing Michael, he's creating an opportunity to give others a piece of that feeling. God bless him.

Give Thanks...For The Somber Times

 I don't talk about my job much on this blog, or didn't when I wrote daily. It's not that I don't like my job--I do, most of the time. It's challenging and I feel we do good, based on the laws and policies of the state and the federal governments. But, at the end of the day, it's a job. It's a way to support my family. I spend my day as millions/billions of others every day. Some have it better...many have it much worse.

My job involves the appropriation of state and federal funds. I'm not part of the legislative branch that decides the extent of those funds, but I do make decisions of whether or not those funds continue to go to individuals who are eligible. As long as they're eligible, they get to keep them. My job is to make sure the funds continue. 

Doing the same thing everyday (with the occasional "surprise" case...), things can get routine, even boring. That's the nature of things...it can't be fireworks and rainbows all the time. That's when a phone call can stand out, especially when the person on the other end brings in a different spirit into the room.

When they bring in a somber tone, a darker time.

Last week, I made a call, a requirement for that particular person's case. I finished my job, asked the requisite questions, obtained the necessary answers, made notes, double-checked to make sure I had everything I needed, then I went into habit-mode. I thanked the woman on the other end of the line, then told her we're done for another twelve months, after which, we'd speak again.

She chuckled.

Then she said, "No we won't."

That piqued my interest. Usually, those with whom I'm speaking find my words sort of funny, as if they've been in a dentist's chair and the exam is finished and you won't have to endure my line of questioning for a year. I said, "Oh? What, are you moving?"

That's when she said as calmly as if we were discussing her favorite book in a booth at a diner.

"No," she said. "I'm only got about a month to live."

I've talked to the citizens of the state of Utah for almost three decades. Few things surprise me...this did. I was at a loss for words. I finally said I was sorry to hear the bad news. She told me what she had, some extremely long medical definition of the thing that was killing her, then said, "it is what it is."

Again, I said how sorry I was to hear such terrible news. I can't remember how we ended the call, but as I hit the "End Call" button on the computer, the conversation washed over me. I'm getting to the age where I'm seeing friends--or strangers, even--around my age who won't wake up to see another day. It's sobering, humbling, not your ordinary day at the office.

In a strange way, I'm thankful for that call, for that woman's courage, for her attitude. It makes me appreciate my life, the lives of my family and friends, the blessings I have, even my many-times boring job. The adage that there is opposition in all things rings true yet again. We cannot appreciate or understand the good without the bad, the sweet without the sour, life without the absence of life.

Every once in a while I get a call like that...very very few like that one specifically. They change the way I not only work, but how I see, well...everything.

Give Thanks...For Forty Blessed Years

 The text message came on Friday. It was from a friend, a friend I've known longer than I didn't know him. He reminded me via text that it was forty years ago--to the day--that we first met.

That day was one of the most important and influential in my life.

January, 24, 1985.

That morning I woke up, dressed, collected my suitcases (that I packed the day before...), loaded them in the car with the rest of my family and we drove sixty miles to the south, ending up in Provo, Utah, within walking distance of the great and spacious university campus of BYU.

That's where I met Brian, Mark, Michael, Jeff, and Linda...the newest missionary district in the Missionary Training Center (or, MTC...) assigned to the Denmark Copenhagen Mission for the LDS church. 

Because I'm old, I thought the anniversary was on the 25th, not the 24th, so on the 25th I dug out my old missionary journal and checked out the first entry. 1-24-85. I missed writing an entry the next day and I've missed I think one other day since 1-24-85, but every other day for those forty years, I've written in a journal.

Look at us...so different, yet in many ways, the same. Back then we were young, healthy, ambitious, somewhat cocky, a little scared, definitely naive, and we all had our hair. Now, with the life experience of two-hundred and forty years, we're not young, not as healthy, ambitious in different things, scared of different things, humbled, and lacking things (literally...) that we once had.

Growing up in a predominant religion serving a mission was something talked about every week at church, and many times throughout the week at home or with friends at school. To call it "pressure to go" would be an understatement. I always thought I was going to go. I don't think I ever considered not going. And when I turned nineteen (the age at the time...), I submitted my papers and a few weeks later my call came...Denmark Copenhagen.

The only thing I knew about Denmark was that it was small and situated above Germany. I was taking German at USU when my call came and the textbook showed what I thought was just a small map of the country. Turns out, it showed much more--almost all of Denmark.

I wrote in my journal forty years and two days ago that I arrived at the MTC and spent much of the morning walking around with Dan Scott, a fellow Davis High School graduate. We were both confused. I eventually found Brian and Mark, my two MTC companions. I skipped lunch, but ate dinner. 

That was pretty much my first entry. 

I'm glad I wrote it. I'm glad I wrote every day after that.

Rarely, do I read those old entries. Friday's text message brought me back, back to that first day, a day that changed my life. Looking back there have been several days--a dozen, maybe two--that were life-changing. This was one of them. Since that day, we all served, all came back, lived our lives, and thanks to social media, have stayed in touch. When we gather, we're family, brothers and a sister who shared those days and weeks at the MTC cooped up in the classrooms, gyms, and cafeterias. We then shared the joy and frustration of learning a foreign language, speaking with strangers (many who became friends...), and surviving that cultural experience of an LDS mission.

I cannot express in words just how impactful those days, weeks, months, and years were to me, and how my mission's affected my life ever since. I'm thankful for those memories and those people and that decision, especially those who supported me and my friends...my family.

Forty years...forty blessed years.

Looking Back...My Last New Years Eve Blog Post

It's been one year since I wrote this, 366 days, 12 months. Since 2013 I wrote a blog post on New Years Eve. Sometimes the words came quickly, sometimes I had to search, but every night, before 12 midnight Mountain Time, I hit the "Publish" button and another blog post was added to the library.

A few months ago, I stopped the dailies. It got to the point where I needed to stop, to do something else. I miss it sometimes, like tonight as I sit in our front room watching TV and wait for a new year to begin. So, maybe you read this last year, maybe not. It's not so much a "New Years" post, but it's what I was thinking about 366 days, 12 months ago.

Happy New Year Everyone! May it be your best ever.

 Isaac Newton's Third Law of Motion states that, "For ever action there is an equal and opposite reaction." In the Book of Mormon, a scripture says basically the same thing, "For it must needs be, that there is opposition in all things..."

The world of science and the world of religion agree (something I believe happens more than people realize...). It's easy to understand Newton's Law...you see an object being acted upon--jumping up in the air, for example--takes energy to jump and gravity pulls you down. Opposition in a spiritual sense...well, that's a little more complicated. Think of the "Shoulder Angel and Devil" as an example. We can look around and see the evil in the world...sometimes it's harder to see the good, but--and I do believe this wholeheartedly--the good is there, stronger than the evil.

It's science.

This past week I learned that a dear friends's family lost their matriarch. She passed after an eight-year struggle with cancer. I only learned of her deteriorating condition the day before. My friend let us all know that his wife might not see 2024. She passed the next day. That night he posted a photo of a tribute given to his sweet wife and family by his neighbors. The passing breaks your heart...the tribute shows how wonderful people can be to each other.

Directly under my friend's post another friend posted a picture of a newborn, a child born only hours before. One of the most impactful events that can happen to human beings is the birth of a child. They sent the social media post to proclaim their joy to us all.

I believe the only connection between these two families is me. I've not seen my friend who suffered the loss in years, but social media can keep us connected. The same can be said for the family with the new edition. Interestingly enough, both the expression of grief and of joy were listed one under another on my social media feed.

Opposition in all things.

One family will start the new year missing their mother/spouse/friend...the other will start a hopefully life-long journey as their family increases. Pain for one family, elation for the other.

The wonderful and tragic thing about life is both families will experience the same thing while they travel throughout this life. My friend and his wife experienced the miracle of childbirth. They know what's coming for the other family. And, since we all die, the family with the new baby has experienced loss, either a close family member or someone more distant, we've all attended a funeral.

The rest of the Book of Mormon scripture reads, "If not so...righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad." Whether or not you believe in this book of scripture, the philosophy behind the words are time-tested facts. Without pain, you cannot know joy, without work you cannot appreciate rest, without contention you cannot understand peace.

To every action there's an equal and opposite action.

I mourn for my friend's family. Having never experienced a loss so personal, I cannot understand their pain. I'm also happy for my other friends. At any given time, we're subject to the joys and hardships of life, some severe, some mild, but always evolving. I'm thankful for these experiences, the good and the bad, the bitter and the sweet. The trick is to enjoy the good times and remember the bad times only exist because the good times happened first.

Give Thanks...Back In The Musical Saddle

 Tonight, I stood with several other tenors, basses, altos, and sopranos, as well as a conductor and orchestra and we performed selections from G.F. Handel's The Messiah. 

It felt good.

Of course, my voice is thrashed.

Back in the day, at this time of year, I was singing several hours every day. In college, our a'cappella choir sang daily, and at several times as fundraisers for trips. Later, when I got involved in community theater, several months of rehearsals culminated in performing every day for a month, and sometimes, twice on Saturdays.

It's been years since I did a Christmas show, seven or eight, I think. I miss it in some ways, but boy...doing a show at Christmas is tough.

The last time I sang Handel's The Messiah was around thirty years ago. My wife and I sang with the Utah Symphony Chorus...incredible experience. For the past couple of weeks, I dusted off my music-reading skills and jumped into the project at our local church.

I miss performing, and because it's performing, I think I can somehow return to those days and start performing again, but that's impossible, just as it's impossible to return to my youth when I had few responsibilities...just going to school, performing, and hanging out with my friends.

With age comes wisdom, at least, I hope so. Tonight, I think I enjoyed the music more than I ever had. The musicians were not world-class like the last time I sang the notes (I do NOT include my self in the "world class" category...). It was imperfect, but beautiful.

I'm thankful for the many opportunities I've had in my life to perform, for the life-long friendships I made from those days. Singing changed my life...literally. I had fun tonight.

It felt good to be back in the musical saddle.

Give Thanks...For A Good Deal, Even If They Never Get Used

 Hard to pass up a good deal.

It's probably been half a decade since I last went skiing. If my 59-year old self told my 17-year old self that I rarely go skiing during ski season, my younger self would not believe it. It would seem so strange. Then again, I doubt my 17-year old self would understand that things would change...

Namely, the cost of the sport.

Back in the day, you could go to almost any Northern Utah resort and ski all area/all day for under $12. If you wanted to spend more, you could go to Snowbird or Park City of Deer Valley. When we had a little extra cash, we'd go to Snowbird and ski all area w/o the tram for $16. That's mind-blowing now. The most expensive part of skiing back then was the equipment.

That's why when I go to our local thrift store and I see practically new(ish...), unused skis for $12, I buy them, even if I don't need them or even if I may never actually use them. 

At my age, people don't do things they used to do. I know a lot of people my age or older who ski and good for them. I'd like to think I'd still be able to successfully navigate from the top of the mountain to the lodge. But, you never know. Plus, there's the ever-increasing costs. That's not going to change.

I'm thankful for a good deal. I'm thankful for my childhood memories of skiing with my family and friends. I'm thankful that others enjoy the sport so much. I don't know how good the Rossignols are that I bought, but I know the underside are almost pristine...not a lot of rock skiing were done. This year's ski season has just begun. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to take these babies out and give them a run or two. 

Time will tell.

Give Thanks...Knowing How The Other Side Feels

 For my team, the season is over. It ended Friday night in Florida. To call the U of U's 2024 football season a disappointment doesn't come close to reality.

It was much worse than that.

And our disappointment is mostly our fault. We thought it would be so much better. For years...heck, even decades, we've had it good, and this year was supposed to be the best yet. It started strong and then it went downhill, and by downhill, seven losses in a row. As a fan base, we went enjoying a Top 10 team, then we watched out ream fall out of the college football playoff picture, then it kept going down, and down...

And down.

Until, the team saw a winning record vanish and a shot at a bowl game--any bowl game--disappear.

Even thought it's been more than thirty years since I attended the University of Utah, I know something about how Utah fans think--not all fans, mind you--but many. They're fixated and fascinated on their rivals, the Brigham Young University Cougars. And even though I'm not a fan of that school (for the most part...), many of their fans are as fixated and fascinated on the U as well. They had to watch as their most-hated rivals built a national brand, a team talked about on the sports shows and podcasts. Man, that must have sucked. 

Now we, as Utah fans, know how that feels. We've watched as the men in blue win game after game and took the place on the sport shows and podcasts. When projections of the college football playoff were discussed, the big red U became a big blue Y. BYU was were having the season Utah fans felt like they deserved. For years, BYU played hard and battled week after week, having big wins, but not having the seasons Utah had.

Now, we know how they feel.

Now, they know how we feel.

I'm old enough to remember the dominant BYU teams of the 70s and 80s. As a Utah fan, it was brutal. Younger fans can't understand seeing the roles reversed, seeing Utah being (and winning...) BCS games, having undefeated seasons, a constant place in the Top 25. Utah will probably never reach the level BYU did because I believe the sport is rigged that no one but the Blue Bloods will ever win another national championship, but hey...that's just me.

It's been a tough year for local football teams. The U saw that college playoff as a real possibility. After a couple of losses, that dream died. Then, the Y became as close as a team can come to reaching the playoffs, before losing two key games. Like the U, the Y's dream came to an end.

In nine months, the teams will again don their uniforms and try and win as many games as possible. Changes on both sides will create interesting storylines and fodder for sports shows, podcasts, and banter around the water cooler. All I know is both sides--both teams--want their players to advance, to have a better season than the one that just ended. I'm thankful to be a fan. I've toned things down in my own life so the games don't affect me as much as they once did. I'm thankful that, as a fan, I can see how happy our rivals are. Their team had a great season, one they should be proud of. I'm thankful I got to enjoy so many successful Utah Utes years, and hopefully, they can return to their winning ways in 2025.

Funny, how things work out sometimes.

Give Thanks...For Thanksgiving

 Because of scheduling issues, our family gathered yesterday to laugh, share stories, and food. It was your typical Thanksgiving celebration. The only downside is not everyone could make it, that and the dog...

Still, it was a wonderful time.

I sometimes can't believe just how blessed I am.

Without doing any research, I still believe Thanksgiving to be an American holiday. I know other countries have adopted other American holidays and cultural events (many, America adopted from other countries to begin with...), but I think Thanksgiving remains ours.

Over the years, the gatherings have changed. As a child, it was our immediate family and sometimes others would come from out-of-state or we'd go there. Eventually, my siblings and I got married and moved away, starting our own families, our own traditions, but we'd always check to see what we were doing for Thanksgiving.

Family.

Now, years later, our own children are marrying and having children of their own. Now, they must check with their other families to see when they're gathering to see if they can make it to their celebrations. Life is a circle, or as some would say, the circle of life.

Yesterday, I spent six hours in the car. Thankfully, the weather and traveling companions were good. It was worth every minute. Helping move the biggest treadmill I've ever seen upstairs was not something I thought I'd be doing but, many hands made light work. Not only was it our Thanksgiving celebration, but also my son's birthday. I hope it was a good one.

For the past several years, I've blogged on Sundays and included the hashtag #GiveThanks. Truth be told, I could use that hashtag every time I blog...sometimes it's just hard to see all those blessings. Today, this week, this year I'm thankful for my health, my employment, the physical things we have, but most of all, my family, and since last Thanksgiving, I include my "other family" as well. 

Sometimes, I can't believe just how blessed I am.

Give Thanks...For Ward Choirs

 Last year (at least, I think it was last year...), I was asked to serve as a choir leader for our local LDS congregation. I believe you don't have to be a member of my religion to understand what this calling entails. Choirs in local congregations are often times the butt of jokes in music circles...and in other circles, too. They're an easy target. We invite anyone wishing to sing to join. Heck, I'm sure I've made jokes about these choirs over the years.

I don't think I'll ever do that again.

Our ward choir sang in church today. We had one rehearsal two weeks ago and went through the song one and one-half times this morning before our services began. They sounded wonderful. I'm not saying they were "world-class" in their presentation of the hymn, but boy, they sounded great--just ordinary church goers who enjoy singing.

When I was called, I felt inadequate, even though I've been singing in choirs--amateur and professional--for the past forty years. I've sung in regular choirs and I've sung with talent that's second to none. I was afraid I would be expected to get the singers to sound like a choir that blew people away. I quickly realized that's not my job...not my calling. I'm there to help the singers and the congregation feel something, to bring a spirit to the meeting.

I'm far from doing the best job with this calling. I have a long way to go--there's so much more I can do for the ward. That's the thing about callings. They're not not given to those who have mastered the skill...more like given to those who need to learn something.

I'm thankful for my neighbors who stay late and rehearse, who come early--small kids in tow--to support me and the program. I'm thankful I can stand before them and hear the music we create before anyone else. I'm thankful for ward choirs.

Give Thanks...The Land That I Love

 I took this picture of our flag on October 14th of this year. Tomorrow, I'll fly it again--both times to honor those who made it possible for me to be born, grow up, and live in this incredible country. This is the month where many of my fellow countrymen find things for which the are thankful and they share those thoughts with others.

Today, I'm thankful for where I live.

Having lived almost sixty years on this planet, I've seen some history. Had I properly studied history I would have known more, but between my grandparents and my self, our lives cover the years of 1885 to the present day. In those three generations, the world has forever changed. Very few living today could even comprehend what life was like in the 1800s. Tonight, I'm sitting in a climate-controlled room communicating on a device that can send these words to literally billions of people. We have food in our house that I did not have to hunt, water we did not have to dredge up from the ground, vehicles in the garage that can take us around the world. Even the most vivid imaginations of my grandparent's generation could ever have dreamed how we would live today.

We live in the age of miracles.

And the United States of America stands apart. The experiment allowing humans guaranteed rights, rights that should not be taken away by men with guns (governments or criminals...) was so novel, so radical, so important for humanity, that once implemented, the world would never be the same.

November is only ten-days old and the month has left its mark on history. I've watched with fascination the highest and lowest of emotions, and yet, the life I live cannot compare with the highs and lows of the people who came before, who sacrificed all. We sometimes (many times...) forget that history did not start the day we were born. That's a shame, and not only that, but forgetting history--true history--can doom a society.

Tonight I walked to the end of a dead end street where homes will one day line a new road. I looked up. The sky was aflame with reds and oranges and blues and colors that took my breath away. I get to live on that street. I get to live in a country where, because of good people obeying laws, me and my family can live in relative peace. Because I've not studied history, I know of few other people who have been so blessed.

Events of the past week have caused millions to flood social media with their opinions, their griefs, their joys. I add my voice to theirs to say I'm thankful where I live. I'm thankful to have never wanted for food, for shelter, for love. I'm thankful for this land that I love.

Give Thanks...For Missing You

 I parked the car on the thin blade of pavement running north/south, one of several dissecting the Farmington City Cemetery. I arrived early so I could still make my call time for work. I got out and the brilliance of the day hit me, the greens of the grass seem to glow, a rarity in late October. In the past I've visited with snow, leaves covering the headstone of my parents. Yesterday, you could not ask for a more perfect day.

I fetched the pumpkin I carved the morning before, one I spotted among hundreds stacked in front of our local grocery store. My eyes locked on it immediately...small-ish, round-ish, almost perfect. I like to pick smaller pumpkins for my mom's grave. They fit her, not only in her size (not quite five feet tall...), but also in the way she didn't want attention directed her way. That didn't stop the attention from coming. Everyone who knew my mother loved her. She drew people to her like flies to a porch light at dusk.

I hiked the few steps from the car to the site and placed the pumpkin on the ground. Due to the slope, I adjusted the placement to prevent it from rolling downhill. I stood and surveyed the cemetery. Except for a service truck either beginning its duties to accept a new member, or finishing up welcoming a new member (considering the time of day, it's probably the latter...), I stood alone, the only person living at the cemetery on this absolutely beautiful day.

A day my mom would have appreciated.

I had my mom for forty-two years, long enough to believe I knew her. When she passed--and the passing was no surprise--I realized just how much I didn't know of the woman who selflessly adopted three children, myself included, and who raised us alone for thirty-three years. It's funny and ironic and terribly sad how the instant they're gone, you wish you could spend more time with them when you spent every day of your life with them before. The desire to ask her questions, to find out more about her life as a child growing up in the Great Depression or during WWII and all the wars that followed, as a young adult, a newlywed, even during the times I lived with her, hit me after she died and has continued these seventeen years since.

I can't remember the exact year I started carving a pumpkin for her birthday. I was possibly a teenager. I didn't continue the tradition every year, but I believe I've done much better since 2007. It's a small gesture, like the pumpkin itself...small, but heartfelt. 

Tonight, I'll drive to the cemetery again. Since it's Sunday, I may be alone at the cemetery, or perhaps others may come to be as close to their loved ones's remains as possible. The weather's not as perfect as it was yesterday and that may keep some from visiting. I'll pack up the pumpkin, bring it home, and place it among others for the holiday that always occurs four days after we celebrate my mom's birthday.

I thought I was thankful for my mother before, but I find myself more thankful for her with each passing year. I realize, as I get older, what an incredible person she was and how lucky all of us who knew her actually are. In a word...very. In 365 days, God willing, I'll continue the tradition, find an almost perfect pumpkin, carve it, and leave it for my mom. I'm thankful I miss her so much. It's a testament to just how wonderful she was. Until next year, mom. Still missing you.

Give Thanks...For The Primary Program

 Today, I almost stayed home from Sacrament Meeting because we have a few family members recuperating from various issues. When I checked the chorister schedule this morning, I forgot that I was scheduled to conduct the music today. 

I'm glad I decided to go.

It was the annual Primary program.

If you're unfamiliar with the our religion, we have an organization that focuses on children ages three to twelve. It's call the Primary. Around this time of year the congregations have one meeting dedicated to the kids. They give short (very short...) talks--sometimes only a sentence or even less--and they sing their little hearts out. I sat on the front row and got to see the program close up. Since my children graduated from Primary, I haven't been as interested in the program. Today, it was just magical.

I'll bet I could be in any Primary program across the world and feel the same thing. I might not understand the words, but I would definitely recognize the spirit that surrounds those children. I'm sure every Primary program would have the embarrassed few, the children searching for their parents/grandparents/siblings, and those amazing souls who stand as tall as possible and belt out the songs regardless of whether or not they can hit the note. 

Pure wonder.

Pure innocence.

Perfection.

The picture above is a visual depiction of the First Primary founded in Farmington, Utah in 1878. The mural is in the Memorial Rock Church in the building where I grew up. Every Sunday I saw that painting, memorized faces, studied the poses and the expressions on that wall. Just seeing it brings back a flood of memories.

Today, I along with everyone else in the hall, felt that special feeling that can only come from children. I'm thankful I decided to go this morning. I'm thankful for the opportunity to be a part of the program...part of the congregation. I'm thankful for the Primary program.

Give Thanks...For My Favorite Team Losing

 It sounds strange, but because my favorite college football team has lost two games in a row, I started writing a new story. 

For the longest time, my weekends in the fall were spent looking forward to the upcoming games. And for the past couple of years, my favorite team did very well...extremely well, and this year was supposed to be one of their best. Turns out, they were not the team everyone thought they'd be. They may still win a majority of their games and have a good season, but it's not what many (including myself at certain times...) believed it would be.

Oh well.

Since the chance of my team to go to the playoffs has basically disappeared, I'm not into the games anymore. Last week we ended up tending my grandson a couple of times and an idea for a book came to mind, so I started it. I'm not too far along--the story's still formulating in my mind--but it's been a lot of fun. Even if no one buys it or it never gets picked up by a publisher, I'm going to finish it.

Truth be told, I should have shed my obsession with sports years ago, or at least, toned it down. I could have accomplished so many things, used that time in other ways. Heck, I could have written dozens of novels in that same time. Getting rid of cable TV a year ago helped curb my addiction. I think this latest turn of events has helped me toward that end.

So, if this story works out, would I still be happy that the team has suffered a couple of losses because if they hadn't, they'd still be in the hunt for the nation's best team? That's a tough question.

As it stands now, I'm thankful for this opportunity. I'm thankful to be able to write something for my family. I'm thankful for directing my efforts toward other things and not be so hooked on things. Strange how things work out, sometimes. 

Give Thanks...For The Memories

 A week ago several of my past high school classmates met and celebrated forty years since we were all required--by law--to be together for organized public education.

Forty years.

I did not attend the reunion. 

Not that I didn't want to attend, but because they changed the date from the summer to a weekend in September, I had work conflicts. Bummer. It would have been fun to go and spend time with such wonderful people.

Many who attended posted photos and memories on social media. One Facebook friend posted a link to his cache of high school photos. He was our school photographer and he did a fantastic job. It's amazing to think that all those photos were taken on film, film that had to be developed...it was pretty pricey. Now, you can take a thousand photos basically for free.

I was not the most popular student at Davis High School Class of 1984, but I wasn't the most unpopular student, either. I enjoyed my time walking the (literally...) century-old halls of that old school...a series of buildings that no longer exist, by the way. I found all the photos I was in and I am including them here. I want to thank Vance Brand and his wonderful photographic eye that made these photos possible. I hope it's okay to post them. If not, I'll be glad to take them down.

So, I present a series of photos including me and my great friends. I'm thankful for those people and those times. Forty years...can't believe it's been that long.

Give Thanks...For Five-Thousand

It began on a Monday, Monday, January 23, 2011, to be exact. I was late to the party, but I thought it would be fun to start a blog.

That was five-thousand days from today, Sunday, September 29, 2024. I know it's five-thousand days because I've written five-thousand posts, one post, every single day.

I think it's time to stop.

By the time I got into the blogging game, blogs were fading. I didn't care. I enjoyed writing them. Now, almost fourteen years later, I don't know anyone who writes blog posts anymore. They're basically extinct. I know some still write them (because I'm one of those people...). I wonder who--if any--write and post something daily. I'm sure it's rare.

In my heyday, I was getting more than a hundred hits each day. I even made about $100 bucks from Google due to the number of visits. Those days are long gone. I'm averaging between twenty to thirty hits each day, sometimes more when the topic is of interest to many people. Sure, I liked the hits and back then, people even commented on the posts. Now, comments are rare, though still appreciated. I know that those twenty to thirty visits are from friends and family. I appreciate them all, each one, every day.

So, why stop now? Five-thousand is a good round number. It's something I can be proud of, an accomplishment eclipsed by few others, if any. But, every single person who ever started a blog, they all ended them, too. Everyone who started, then stopped, did so for a different reason. There's no one reason for me to stop, other than, it's time.

In the past five-thousand days, I've chronicled my life, the life of my family an friends. I've posted short stories and other snippets of fiction. I've written about weddings, about funerals, reunions, triumphs, tragedies, but mostly normal (some would say, boring...) topics. There were times--not many--when I searched for a topic, racked my brain for something to post. Every time I overcame, I succeeded in posting...something.

I'm not quitting the blogging game entirely. I plan on writing perhaps weekly, maybe a few times a week, especially when things happen I want to digitally remember and to allow others to read as well. It's funny, if I don't post anything tomorrow, I'll want to write a blog post about how it feels to not post anything.

If I don't post anything tomorrow, it's over...the streak ends, something that can never continue. As I get older, I realize, all things that start must have an ending. As the title of a classic Sydney Sheldon novel truthfully proclaims, Nothing Lasts Forever.

For all of you who have read my posts, I'm thankful for you and I hope you continue to do so when I write in the future. I'll notify on social media when a new blog post is written. But, if you move on and find another daily blogger to follow, I completely understand. The world has changed in the past five-thousand days. I've provided a daily glimpse of how those days have affected me and my loved ones, sometimes funny, sometimes serious, always daily.

I'm thankful for the ability to write these words, post these pictures. I'm thankful for good health and a (somewhat...) sound mind that allowed me to express myself. And so I say farewell...

For now. God bless you all.

Give Thanks...For 32 Years

We got married on a Tuesday. People though we were weird...most get married on the weekend. Not us. We picked the 22nd because that day meant so much to us. Our first date was on a 22nd, we got engaged on a 22nd, and we got married on a 22nd. 

Thirty-two years ago today, to be exact.

To put things in perspective, that VW was 26 years old...six years younger than how long Lynda and I have been married.

When you've lived with someone that long, it's hard to remember life before it was she and me.

And, honestly, I don't want to.

I'm thankful we found each other all those years ago. I'm thankful she said "yes" when I asked. I'm thankful for all those years we've had together and I pray they'll continue for a long time. Love you, Babe!

Give Thanks...Clear Skies

 I'm no scientist. There's so much I don't understand. Case in point...where did all the smoke go and why did it only take one day to clear it out?

Like much of the country, smoke from wildfires have invaded our little valley the past couple of weeks. Actually, it's been off-and-on for the past couple of months. We're lucky enough to get smoke from west coast fires, Idaho fires, Nevada fires, even Utah fires. The day before these pictures were taken, you could not see the mountains to the east. 

Then, the next morning, I took a couple of pictures of an incredibly beautiful cloudy sky, pretty much smoke-free.

Where in the world did that smoke go?

Did it go east to Colorado, or south to Arizona? I don't think it went north or west, but I could be wrong. All I know is it was no longer polluting the air and damaging our health. I'd like to think it went away so no others had to deal with it.

I'm thankful for the beautiful skies, and in a way, I'm also a little bit thankful for the smokey skies because that makes the smokeless skies that much better. I'm thankful to live in such an incredible place with stunning views. I'm thankful for God's handiwork and that another fire season is coming to a close.

Still...it would be interesting to know where that darn smoke went.

Give Thanks...There's Man-Made, Then, There's God-Made

 You might have missed it, and not necessarily because of your eyes. The picture--depending on where you saw it--shows an almost hidden treasure. If you look in the upper right-hand corner, you'll see something I missed the first time I looked at the photo.

It's something man-made.

I took the photo because the cloud and the sun behind it. The rays extending out were beautiful. I wasn't sure if I'd use it for my Pic Of The Day, but I thought it might work. When I took a second look , I noticed the vapor trail behind a jet. That's when I thought about man-made vs. God-made. 

There's really no comparison. 

On this fading Summer evening, I drove home and watched an incredible Northern Utah sunset. I was driving so I didn't get a photo. That's okay because the scene became part of me, part of who I was. It was another example of God's handiwork. I saw the sunset as I drove a car 71 m.p.h...the car being one of mankind's greatest accomplishments.

Beautiful sunset vs. functioning automobile?

No comparison.

I'm thankful I captured both man-made and God-made accomplishments in one photo. I'm thankful for both, actually. We live in amazing times.

Give Thanks...For Choral Music

 This morning I did a little channel surfing and I came upon the weekly broadcast of the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square. They're kind of famous, and I've known about them all my life. That happens growing up in Utah.

The first time I joined a choir was my senior year of high school. I didn't sing in jr. high school because I was in the band. In high school I left my baritone behind and went music-less for three years. My senior year I got involved, ran track, took drama, and choir. I had a great year. I loved choir.

Fast forward a few years and I'm sitting in an econ class when my friend from high school sat next to me before the first class began. He said he wasn't in the class, but he needed to transfer because he got into an a'cappella choir that was going to England next spring. I asked if they needed more singers. He said they might. That day I went to the choir class and auditioned. I made the grade. 

I was in that choir class for four years. I loved choir.

In fact, it changed my life.

Fast forward a few decades. Since college, I've done plays and was even in a choir or two. I've always loved singing, even to this day...even if my voice is not what it once was. Now, I have several friends in The Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square, the state's (and one of the country's...) top choirs. I'm too old to realistically join, even though I wonder what it would be like to be a member. The reason I'd love to join even now is because I know how much fun it is to sing with others as well as being with good, talented people. Their music is beautiful. The experience, I'm sure, is even better.

I'm thankful for choral music, even though I was late to the party. I'm thankful for the music, for the art. There's a spirit singing conjures (for good or bad...), a synergy. There's nothing quite like it. Sing on, my brothers and sisters...sing on.