Writing On A Wall...

"Hey, you want to see something?"

My neighbor called me over Monday. He bought the house where I grew up, a home my father was building when he died and that we sold after my mother passed away. My neighbor is a builder himself, so as he's provided some much-needed remodeling to the home, he's invited me over to see some interesting sights--some hidden treasures--held within its walls.

He showed me an intact piece of sheetrock. 

"Recognize that?" he asked.

And I did.

Because my father wasn't able to finish the house, our basement was unfinished for years. We had a phone downstairs, a wall-mounted dial phone. This was back when a second phone line was very rare (you had to pay extra $$ for even a second phone line--hard to imagine...). And since none of the walls were finished, when we needed to remember a phone number, we just wrote it on the wall.

There's a bit of a history lesson here as well. Officially, Farmington's seven-digit phone number began with 867. But we only had to dial 7-xxxx to reach someone in town. That's why most of these numbers only had 7, then the number.

I remember some of the names, but most I have forgotten. I think the number with the area code of 714 was to a relative, most likely my Uncle Arlin and Aunt Coralle. They lived in Chino back then. 

Other times when my neighbor has invited me over, he's shown me something interesting my dad did when building the house. We both agree the man was ahead of his time. I've said on this blog before, but I know he would have loved to see all the amazing things that have been invented, especially over the past two decades. I'm sure he'd have the latest iPhone.

I'm glad my neighbor called me over. He wanted to show me the wall before he broke it up and threw it away. I'm glad he did and I'm glad I took some pictures. It brought back a lot of memories.

Announcing "Beyond The Wail" Including The Short Story "The "Grim" Reaper," By L.K. McIntosh

Xchyler Publishing has released Beyond The Wail, an anthology including 12 grave stories of love and loss. And this post is to spotlight one of those stories and its author.

The story is, 

The "Grim" Reaper,

and the author is,

L. K. McIntosh.

Here's a little background on the author:

L.K. McIntosh has been making up stories about the people around her since she learned how to talk. She eventually discovered cultural anthropology, a fantastic and often macabre world of research rabbit holes and bare bones tales just begging to be fleshed out. She is irrationally terrified of sharks, which makes perfect sense, considering she has always lived in a landlocked state, and she is a proud supporter of the Oxford comma. She is currently working on two speculative fiction novels and several short stories. She physically lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, but tends to live life vicariously thanks to the Internet, books, television, and a vast array of interesting people.

As far as the story goes, the main character of The "Grim" Reaper is just who you'd think he is, the ol' soul collector himself. I've always found Mr. Reaper to be a fascinating character. Does this entity, who makes the decision of when our time is up, have a soul of his own? And what's going through his mind when he's not making those decisions.

McIntosh gives us a story about one who carries this burden. What I enjoyed most about this story is the Grim Reaper is not the only fantastical character. There's magic, witches, teleportation and other mystical elements crammed into this short story. We find out some of the thoughts someone who has lived for millennia is thinking.

I couldn't help hoping that this cannot be all to the story. I have to believe there's a whole novel out there either written or living in the mind of the author just waiting to be let loose. There's just too much of a well-established world to play with and explore for this to be all there is. I would like to know more about Mr. Reaper and how this story continues.

I have not read the rest of the stories in this anthology, but I want to. You can order it now through Amazon by following the link: HERE. I consider some of the authors in this collection friends and I always love reading stories written by friends and people I know. If the one story I read is an indication of the rest of the book, it's going to be a good one.

...But Will They Break My Heart?

*

Before I was married, I had my heart broken several times. Looking back, the pain helped to make me the man I am today, but at the time...well, it sucked. And, had any of the "crushes" developed into something more serious, I probably wouldn't be with the wonderful woman I'm married to now. I can't imagine my life any another way.

Since I got married twenty-three years ago last month, I've had my heart broken only once and it wasn't because I fell in love with another person--it was because the Utah Jazz failed me. Sure, my heart has pained when my mother and other loved ones passed away, but my faith assures me I'll see those people again--we're only separated for little while.

But when I watched Game Game 3 of the 1998 NBA finals, Sunday June 7 when the Chicago Bulls scored 98 points to the Utah Jazz's 54, I felt as bad--or worse--as I did when dealing with any girl. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest, stomped on then handed back like some macabre last-place trophy given to the loser.

I remember sitting in the dark kitchen the in basement apartment where we lived. I watched the game on a little 13" TV. I watched the entire thing, every play, every mistake, every foul, bucket and missed shot.

I felt horrible.

I think my life changed on that Sunday night over seventeen years ago--not changed in some monumental, life-altering way, but in a subtile way. I don't believe I allowed myself to ever be so vulnerable, especially over a game.

Since that fateful day back in June of 1998, I've never been invested in sports like I was that time. For the Jazz, it's been pretty simple. They've never been as good as they were then. But I've come close a couple of times since, and it has to do with the University of Utah football program. For the last decade (and maybe a year or two before that...), the Utah Utes have had great teams, teams other fans envy. In two of those years, they went undefeated. In 2004 the Utes were one of three teams to not lose a game all season, and in 2008, the U of U Utes stood alone as the only undefeated 13-0 team in the nation.

And I loved it! They were clearly the class of the state during those years.

Which brings us to 2015, and I'm starting to crack. I'm starting to fall in love with a sports team, something I told myself I wouldn't do. This year's Utes team, if they win every game they play this year will be the 2015 college football national champions, something unobtainable to them in 2004 and 2008. This year, when the Utes beat Michigan I thought it was a good win, but they looked a little shaky--first games of the season can make a team look that way. When they played Utah State and Fresno State, they looked better, but when they played in Oregon a few weeks ago...

Man! They looked good! I mean, "full-on, make-up, dressed to the nine's" good. Utah played their next game two weeks later against the California Golden Bears and it was rough. They showed the best college QB in the game that the Utah defense was not just good, but "kind-of-girl-you'd-take-home-to-mama" good. Of course, it doesn't help my "not falling for a sports team" resolve when national press has daily posts on the internet to say just how good this year's Utes squad is.

The Utes may lose this weekend to Arizona State--a great program and a team Utah hasn't beat since joining the Pac-12. The Utes could lose the week after that to USC, then to Arizona or UCLA, or any other game on their schedule. In short, going 13-0 in the Pac-12 would be herculean, winning the next two games after that, well...that's almost incomprehensible.

But to quote Lloyd Christmas, "So, you're telling me there's a chance?" Yes, Lloyd, there's a chance. It's slim, about as slim as Mr. Christmas getting the girl at the end of the movie, but it's there.

How am I handling this relationship? I've told myself I'm just going to enjoy the ride. This works when the team keeps winning. If Utah had lost to Cal on Saturday night, it would have hurt because of the emotional investment I've already placed with this team. Ultimately, I want to be a fan who enjoys the wins and is not devastated by the loses, and for seventeen years I've done a pretty good job. But, darn you Utes, you're sure making it tough this year. Maybe that's what "tough love" really means.

* Screenshot used without permission from a "I Love Utah Utes"Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/ILoveUtahUtes?fref=ts

Faces Of The Frightmares Shows...

Ever since I began my autumn gig as a house manager at a Frightmares show at Lagoon Amusement Park, I have been blown away by several things. The talent of the performers is obvious. There's an excitement when the lights and the sound and the fog machine cranks up and they take the stage.

But one aspect of the production I love...

The make-up!

Under the lights at night, the make-up radiates. There are talented costumers, choreographers and make-up artists that all collaborate to pull off a first-rate product. Today I took out my good camera and tried to get shots of the beautiful faces of some of the performers. There are two shows at Frightmares, Hackenslash, a chainsaw-fueled song and dance show--their live band is very, very good! The second is the show that I house manage, Zombie Mambo. 

I apologize I didn't get everyone's. Maybe I'll have to break out the good camera again. I hope you enjoy seeing what I get to see each weekend, at least, until the end of the month.

  

A Billion Years In The Making...

 I came home tonight dead tired from my second job. Our little dog wanted out, so I let her wander the front yard as I prepared to write this post. Of course, the dog began barking--in her aging years she's seeing things that aren't there and naturally she barked at what she believes is there. I left my computer I went outside to investigate (because every so often, there is something there to bark at, a neighbor, a deer, our other cat...). Nope, she was barking at our minivan.

I decided to stay outside just in case she began barking again, which she did. And since I was alone under a cloudless sky, I decided to offer up a little prayer, which I'm wont to do every now and then. Not ten seconds into my semi-casual conversation with Deity, I saw a shooting star fall in the western sky. The above picture was taken in the vicinity of where it fell. It would have been impossible for me to actually get a picture of it. The above picture required I steady the camera on our back deck to compensate for the long exposure. Still, I like the photo.

As I watched the star fall, a thought hit me, and I was amazed at all the circumstances that came together for me to be standing next to my parked car looking in the general direction of west and seeing that incredible sight. Just me seeing it meant I needed to be outside. I wanted to be inside relaxing, preparing a blog post (since I didn't really know what to write about tonight...). And I had to be facing west. Had I been looking up at the eastern sky, I would have missed it.

Of course, all these are things I did tonight to be able to watch one of nature's fireworks. The rest of the process probably took billions of years to orchestrate. That speck of matter, or however big it was--science was not my strong suit in school--traveled from somewhere to burn up in earth's atmosphere. It could have been man-made, some chunk of space junk that fell to earth. If that's the case, it was made from materials found on our planet, and depending on which theory you believe, that piece of material has existed for billions of years. Its placement in space and its return home took billions of years to take place.

Like I said, I was tired. And I know that the falling star would have happened had I been watching or not. I don't really consider it an answer to a prayer, or a way of God saying, "Hi." I just chuckled, thought of all the things that took place for it to happen and me to see it, and I enjoyed the moment. Then again, maybe it was God winking at me. I can buy that, too.

Ever Seen A Zombie Mambo...?

Our small town (that's not so small anymore...) has its own amusement park. Growing up I spent every summer day--except probably Sundays--at that park. When I was a teenager I worked there and had some wonderful times and make some great friends.

For the past twenty years the park has a season after the regular summer season. They call it Frightmares and it's a lot of fun. I had never been to Frightmares so I was excited to see what it was all about. My son and I are house managers for a show. They call it Zombie Mambo, and it too, is a lot of fun!

The show is made up of seven talented performers, four men and three women. There's actually two versions of the Mamba. Truth be told, I like Show A, but Show B is great, too.

The show's centerpiece is a late 1960s/early 1970s pink and purple Cadillac hearse. They dance on the car, climb all over it and during a couple of songs, get that car rockin'.

Frightmares goes until Halloween day. The park is open Friday, Saturday and Sunday, but it's open the entire last week of October. If you're on the park, just go north after coming in the main entrance. And if you do come see the show, stop and say "hi." That is, after you've enjoyed the show.

Going To Work (Or Staying Home...) While Sick

It's been a week of illness, not for my whole family--thank goodness--but for me. I've taken a couple of days off from work due to this illness. On Monday I woke up feeling bad so I called in sick, or e-mailed in sick and stayed home all day to recuperate.

When I arrived at work Tuesday, I saw the white board our department uses to track our comings and goings.

I think you see a pattern there.

Yes, about half the department had called in sick on Monday. This is an unusual event--calling in sick is rare. Normally, we're a pretty healthy bunch.

Because of what I saw on that board I made the decision on Wednesday that I needed to stay home again. I assumed--incorrectly--that I would be feeling better on Wednesday. This was not the case. I remembered that white board and saw how many of my co-workers had been sick earlier in the week. Since I was feeling worse, I didn't want to get anyone else in my department sicker, or get sicker myself. And all of us who works with others in the same building know that there are co-workers who do go to work when they should have stayed home. I chose to stay home.

Last night I kept thinking that Thursday would be a good day. I had had two days already this week to rest up. I was feeling better on Wednesday night and I looked forward to getting a good night's sleep and waiting rested and ready to go to work.

Again, I assumed incorrectly.

I hardly slept last night at all. Truth be told, I probably got two hours--maybe three if I'm stretching--the whole night. But when I woke up after about an hour of sleep, I felt pretty good, considering. So I drove to work and put in a nine-hour shift.

After dinner I had one other obligation before I could call it a day. My daughter and I had a rehearsal. I wasn't needed for the first part of the rehearsal so I went and rested. Unbeknownst to me, a fellow cast member snapped a picture and put it on Facebook. I know it's not very flattering, but hey--I worked hard for that picture! Taking time off and working while sick and everything!

So, what about tomorrow? Should I stay, or should I go? At work, we were able to get a lot done today, so much so, that I might not need to go into work tomorrow (I usually have Fridays off, working four ten-hour shifts...). I think we'll see how tonight goes before I can make that decision.