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...For Continued Traditions

 Every year, life seems to get in the way of things, renewing the car's license tags before they expire, not throwing away all those credit card applications so they just sit on the counter, forgetting to buy dishwashing detergent before the old stuff runs out. 

And making home-baked treats for our neighbors at Christmas time.

Thank goodness my wife's on top of things.

She baked yesterday and today we frosted, put on plates, and delivered them to the neighbors. It's one of those traditions I'm glad we keep alive. Another tradition, today we participated in our annual ward Christmas program at church. It's something that's become as much of the holiday as enjoying Christmas lights or singing along with your favorite holiday songs.

I'm thankful for those traditions. Even though my wife did most of the work on the treats, it was fun walking to each door in a light rain to offer small tokens of appreciation for them and wishing them a Merry Christmas. I'm thankful for our neighbors and friends, for our little community, for the ward Christmas program (and our choir...). I'm thankful to have made it another year.

I'm thankful for continued traditions.

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.