Hymns

My favorite part of worship services has always been singing hymns. For me, the music in church seems to speak to my soul and touches me in ways that sermons and lessons seldom do. Hymns frequently tap an emotional and spiritual reservoir within my heart. I like how I feel when singing church hymns.

So I was surprised today to find that I was not able to sing the hymns in our meetings. Why? Because the recent memories of Laura singing with me were too much. I was overcome and simply couldn't sing.

I hope my inability to compose myself enough to sing hymns at church is a temporary condition.

Today I copied the words of two hymns which seem particularly meaningful to me right now.

The first is Where Can I Turn for Peace? by Emma Lou Thayne.

Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace when other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice, I draw myself apart,
searching my soul?

Where, when my aching grows, where, when I languish, where, in my
need to know, where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.

He answers privately, reaching my reaching in my Gethsemane,
Savior and Friend.
Gentle the peace he finds for my beseeching.
Constant he is and kind, love without end.


The second is Be Still, My Soul by Katharina von Schlegel (translated by Jane Borthwick).

Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side; With patience bear
thy cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide; In ev'ry change he
faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heav'nly Friend thru thorny ways
leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake to guide the future
as he has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake; All now mysterious
shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know His voice who
ruled them while he dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: The hour is hast'ning on when we shall be forever
with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone, sorrow forgot, love's
purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: When change and tears are past, all safe and blessed
we shall meet at last.

Hymns are a type of prayer, it seems to me. I have such a fond memory of our family singing How Great Thou Art in sacrament meeting a few years ago. That felt like a prayer. And the hymns in my heart feel like a prayer now.

Moving Right Along

Grieving is complicated. How grateful I am to have wonderful memories of Laura. The episodes we have experienced this year with Laura were incredibly difficult. I would not care to repeat anything like this ever again.

Life moves on and it is up to me to move along with it. However, I am in unfamiliar territory. I am sure I will learn many great lessons during my "recovery" process.

I recognize how very important it is to have faith and hope. Where would I be without an assurance of the resurrection and the mercy of a loving Heavenly Father? The support of friends, family, and coworkers has been invaluable. I am surprised how much I have needed to talk to people about our loss. People have been extremely supportive, for the most part. There is no greater quality, I am noticing, than being a skilled listener.

Some quotes to share:

• Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~From a headstone in Ireland
• To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die. ~Thomas Campbell, "Hallowed Ground"
• While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil. ~John Taylor
• Life is eternal, and love is immortal,and death is only a horizon;and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight. ~Rossiter Worthington Raymond
• When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure. ~Unknown
• Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy. ~Unknown
• Look for the rainbow that gracious thing, made up of tears and light. ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge
  

Laura Ann Oviatt, 1986 - 2009

I am so very heartbroken to lose Laura, but am so glad that she is no longer suffering. Our emotions are on a roller coaster ride as we try to come to grips with the reality that Laura is gone.

Thank God for the support of family, friends, and co-workers who helped us through this very difficult time. I was so proud of the family remarks at Laura's memorial service and received many, many comments from people who attended and were touched very deeply. I think we helped people understand just how much Laura meant to others and just how special she was.

Several people made it a point to tell me how Laura had helped someone in their family. One woman currently serving a mission emailed us that it was only due to Laura's influence that she made the decisions that led to her missionary service. A parent mentioned how Laura had been the only one to reach out to her daughter at girls' camp several years ago. Another friend told how Laura befriended her when she moved to this area and made a tremendous difference in her life. This is the Laura I knew. This is the Laura I will remember.

Today we ran into Mrs. Barnes, a teacher at Johnston High School who taught some of our children to speak Spanish. Mrs. Barnes was stunned to learn of Laura's death. She certainly knows what we are experiencing, having lost her son in a tragic automobile accident a few years ago. Mrs. Barnes asked about all our children and sent her fond greetings.

This afternoon Brenda and I picked up Laura's remains from the funeral home. Part of the emptiness in our hearts is filled now that Laura is home with us again. Here is an image of the urn containing Laura's remains. This is a temporary resting place. For in the resurrection Laura will rise again, whole and complete, perfected through the atoning sacrifice of the Savior. We look forward to that day and give thanks to the Lord who makes this hope possible. Until then, Rest In Peace, Laura.

Mission ... Impossible

I graduated from high school in the spring of 1972 at age 17, worked during the summer, and started college at the University of Utah in the fall of that year at age 18. Following my first year of college I again worked during the summer and turned 19 in July of 1973. All summer long I wrestled with the decision of whether to serve a church mission. On the one hand, I believed it was the right thing to do and wanted to serve my Heavenly Father. On the other hand, leaving school to serve a mission would mean giving up my National Merit scholarship. And a two-year commitment seemed like an eternity.

My mother was supportive of whatever I decided to do. My father did NOT want to see me give my scholarship and discouraged me from considering serving a mission. So I got no clear signal from my parents and remained torn.

During the era of the Viet Nam war, some saw the military deferment granted to missionaries as an additional blessing of serving a mission. But the draft lottery was last held in 1972, so the following year when the draft ended and the all-volunteer army was instituted I did not face the prospect of being drafted and possibly going to Viet Nam. How ironic that I was called to serve a mission in Viet Nam, the very country so many wanted to avoid at all costs.

In the end I decided to serve as a result of the conviction that I should and the example of my high school friends, some of whom had accepted mission calls and were leaving for their fields of service.

In the fall of 1973, I did not return for my second year of college. Instead, I continued working and saving money for a mission. I sold my beloved 1961 Thunderbird for the grand sum of $225. My mother did not want to store the car for me because she thought my father would drive it in my absence and ruin it. Besides, I needed the money.

So in December of 1973, following an early Christmas with my family, I was dropped off at the Mission Home in Salt Lake City and began my missionary service.

Following are some photos from that time. The first photo shows me cleaning the outside baptism font at the Saigon branch of the church. The other two photos are of me and other Elders with whom I served (Elder Santry Elmer, who served in Viet Nam and who was my companion in Arkansas and Elder Stewart Baxter, who served in Arkansas).

Cleaning the font at the church

Elders Elmer and Oviatt in front of the church in Fort Smith, Arkansas

Elders Oviatt and Baxter at the airport in Fort Smith, Arkansas seeing off a refugee family headed to California

Unanimous vote

At work we have "aisle parties" in our department. Each month the inhabitants of the cubicles along a particular aisle plan some type of fun/celebration activity. This month Aisle E, my aisle, decided to build on theme of the Iowa State Fair, which is taking place this week. So we hosted "An E-fair to remember."

Each office was decorated in some fashion or became an exhibit, such as a petting zoo or a fortune teller or a talent stage and so on. And we also sponsored a number of contests, such as guessing the number of corn kernels in a jar or guessing the weight of one of my co-workers (note - this was guessing the weight of all the "stuff" in her cluttered office, not her personal weight).

For some reason I just can't understand, I was nominated to be the World's Biggest Bore (those familiar with the Iowa State Fair will understand the play on the word Bore). This was a unanimous vote! So I plastered my office with pictures of the grandchildren ("Ask me about my grandkids!!!) and hooked to my belt a leather holster holding my slide rule. I was not successful in finding a pocket protector, so my costume was not quite complete.

We turned this into a project to help the local food bank with a contest to see which aisle would contribute the most canned goods or money. And we had a number of competitions for prizes, including a coin toss into glass dishes, cow races on a Wii system, and a balloon sculpting contest. We capped off the week with a variety of different types of "food on a stick" (okay, on toothpicks) and my world famous dry ice root beer (this was our alcohol-free beer tent). We raised about $300 for the food bank and had a great time.

In today's economy with so much concern about jobs and finances, it is great to work for a company and with co-workers that care about people and having some fun. Somehow the Iowa State Fair just won't seem the same this year.

In starting my reign as the World's Biggest Bore, let me take a few moments to say how proud I am to represent the people of the state of Iowa and to mention several accomplishments ... (by the way, did I tell you about my grandchildren???).

Memory full

When I was a boy I used to memorize much more than I do today. Now when almost anything can be found online there seems little need to memorize. A more useful skill is knowing how to search.

My earliest memories of memorizing are connected with church and giving what was once known as "two and a half minute talks" in Primary. I'm not sure where the time frame of two and a half minutes came from, but I clearly remember memorizing remarks and repeating these over and over again to make sure I stayed within the allotted time. Later I memorized the Boy Scout Law and the Articles of Faith (which I still repeat at night when I am having trouble sleeping).

Later memorizing was associated with school work. For spelling bees I memorized the correct spelling of thousands of words, many very obscure. (One of the things I hate most about aging is losing confidence in knowing how to spell. My journal is laced with words that have little question marks beside them, indicating my uncertainty about the spelling. Hmm, I think I need to invent a pen with a spell-check feature!) And being skilled at memorizing turned out to be a critical skill in test taking. The education process in my day rewarded memorization and short-term retention for taking tests far more than critical thinking or effective problem solving. I owe my scholarship award in part to the ability to memorize prodigious amounts of information!

Learning foreign languages (Russian and Vietnamese) involved a great deal of memorization. I can still remember making the transition from memorization and translating to actually thinking in these languages. Once I became fluent, at times I had to translate back into English because my native tongue had become my second language! I memorized my patriarchal blessing, missionary discussions, and seminary scripture mastery scriptures.

Today I can remember little of what I once memorized. I struggle to recall a joke for more than a few minutes. I have always had an unusual memory for numbers and for years could recall the address and phone number of every place I lived. But I can no longer reliably do so. I have to look up the dates of family member birthdays. I do still remember the lyrics to some favorite songs. And for some reason, one particular poem is indelibly etched on my mind. It made a tremendous impression on me as a college freshman and somehow has stuck with me for nearly four decades.

A slender strand of sophistry,
All tenuous and tangly,
Soft and sweetly strangled me.

The only source I can find for this simple but powerful poem is Jennifer Sainsbury, “Worldly Knowledge,” New Era, Jun 1972, 51.

It is fun to remember some things; others are best left unremembered. One of the wisest things I ever read was a definition of life as "the process of exchanging time for memories." I wish I could remember where I read this ...

A $200 space age lesson

There are times when a mistake come with a price tag attached. Such times let me judge in a unique and precise way the value of the lesson to be learned.

I can think, for example, of a time when one of my children (all parties shall go un-named!) broke a window to get into the house and out of the rain because Mom was running an errand and the door was locked. There was a definite cost to replace the glass.

In another case a new driver failed to negotiate a curb and damaged a wheel, which had to be replaced at a not insignificant cost.

Another teen driver rear-ended a vehicle he was following a little too closely. While we did have insurance as protection for that very purpose, the deductible we had to satisfy was a definite dent in the checkbook.

Yet another student driver, momentarily distracted, veered off the road and damaged a trash receptacle and mailbox, both of which had to be replaced.

In these cases I usually tried to teach a lesson. Typically, I would tell the offender that the cost to repair the damage was well worth it if he/she learned never to make that mistake again!

I had my own lesson recently while vacationing in Utah. I had promised Autumn and Prairie that next time I visited I would help them fly model rockets. Because I knew I wouldn’t have adequate time to build rockets from kits during our visit, I took along some older models I built years earlier. With only a little fixing-up, these were ready to fly. However, in the frantic preparation and packing to go, I failed to carefully inspect and experiment with the launch system. I believed my previous experience with launching model rockets would stand me in good stead.

The first launch was successful, though not aimed as accurately as I would have liked. Thankfully, Ben did the chasing to recover this rocket. The second launch was with a larger rocket. I had misgivings about the launch rod, but decided to go ahead and hope for the best. This launch was a disaster. The rocket did not slide smoothly along the launch rod, but fell over. As I watched the engine burn on the ground, I realized the charge that deploys the parachute would pop the engine out of the rocket body and right at Brenda. I yelled for everyone to move back and out of the way. As Brenda started to do so, she caught her foot and fell flat on her backside. As she flung out her arms, the digital camera she was holding was thrown several feet across the parking lot. The price tag for this lesson was $200 to replace a camera that was damaged due to my negligence to follow proper safety procedures and test everything as I should have done.

Mom may think that I paid $200 to replace her camera. Actually, I paid the money to (re)learn the lesson that I always need to follow proper safety procedures and safeguard the well-being of others in everything I do. Short-cuts may save time, but often end up with a much higher cost. This experience seems to me to be a pretty cheap price to pay for such an important lesson.

Never, never, never ...

Late October 1941 in England was a perilous time. World War II had been raging in Europe for more than two years. In September 1939 Germany had invaded Poland. Britain quickly declared war on Germany and began attacking the German navy. The United States immediately proclaimed neutrality and did not enter the war until the devastating attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941.

In May 1940 Winston Churchill became Prime Minister of England. At this time, the German army was invading and conquering several European countries, and Britain was definitely threatened. Throughout 1940 and 1941 England experienced rationing, the evacuation from Dunkirk, German U-boat attacks, the Battle of Britain, bombing of British airfields and factories, a blockade of the British Isles, and air raids on London and Coventry.

On Wednesday, October 29 Winston Churchill visited Harrow School and spoke to the headmaster and students there. Following is an excerpt from his remarks that day (with my emphasis). While the context of his words was the horror of World War II, Churchill’s remarks are relevant today for those who deal with personal challenges, tragedies, and feelings of despair and hopelessness.

“You cannot tell from appearances how things will go. Sometimes imagination makes things out far worse than they are; yet without imagination not much can be done. Those people who are imaginative see many more dangers than perhaps exist; certainly many more than will happen; but then they must also pray to be given that extra courage to carry this far-reaching imagination. But for everyone, surely, what we have gone through in this period - I am addressing myself to the School - surely from this period of ten months this is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never - in nothing, great or small, large or petty - never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy. We stood all alone a year ago, and to many countries it seemed that our account was closed, we were finished. All this tradition of ours, our songs, our School history, this part of the history of this country, were gone and finished and liquidated. Very different is the mood today. Britain, other nations thought, had drawn a sponge across her slate. But instead our country stood in the gap. There was no flinching and no thought of giving in; and by what seemed almost a miracle to those outside these Islands, though we ourselves never doubted it, we now find ourselves in a position where I say that we can be sure that we have only to persevere to conquer.”

http://www.winstonchurchill.org/learn/speeches/speeches/1941-1945-war-leader/103-never-give-in

Not a recession, but a compression

We are turning to technology in the fight against the lymphedema in Mom's legs. Last week I took Mom to be fitted for the compression device you see in these photos. This system consists of a pump (the small box sitting on the glass table next to the woman) attached by hoses to vinyl inflatable sleeves that zip around both legs. As you can see in the second photo, the pump connects to each sleeve by four hoses which are attached to four separate chambers in the sleeve. The pump is programmed for a 30 second cycle during which it inflates the four chambers, starting at the foot with more pressure and moving up the leg with less pressure in each successive chamber, before releasing the pressure and repeating the cycle. This "forces" the fluid up the leg and increases the circulation in the lymph system so that fluid does not collect in the legs, ankles, and feet. After an hour of this massaging we can see definite results.

One of the reasons we looked into this system is because Mom is supposed to be doing water exercises 3-4 times each week. However, when I wrap her legs Mom is unable to be in the water because the compression wraps are supposed to stay on for two or three days. So on the one hand Mom is being encouraged to swim and on the other hand is being told to keep her legs wrapped. We hope that this device, which conveniently zips on and off, will allow Mom to get the compression treatment she needs and still be able to exercise in the water. Maybe this combination will help keep down the swelling in her legs.

This does not entirely replace the compression wrapping I must continue to do, but it will provide Mom more flexibility as to when the wrapping will need to be done. We are so grateful for the miracle of modern medicine and the treatments made possible by inventions such as this one. We are also thankful for insurance to help with the cost of the device. Without insurance, this would not be an option we could afford.

I pray that Mom will enjoy good results from this equipment.

Welcome, Zephyr

Very early in the morning on April 3 Ben called to announce that Emily had given birth to their baby boy, named Zephyr. Apparently Ben called twice, but I remember only one call. Later that morning at work I asked myself if I had dreamed the call, but Brenda assured me that it had taken place and we were grandparents for the sixth time.

For months we have prayed for a safe birth and a healthy baby. We are so glad that everything went well and that Zephyr is finally here. We are sure that Autumn and Prairie are excited about having a baby brother and can't wait to meet him personally!

From wiki.name.com:
The name Zephyr is of Greek origin and means "west wind," from the Greek Zephyros. It may refer to the wind as an abstract force, or to the god of the west wind. It is an unusual name, and may be given to either boys or girls.

Zephyr, the god of the west wind, features in several Greek myths, such as that of Cupid and Psyche, where he transports Psyche to Cupid's cave. He is also seen in the story of Hyacinth. Both Zephyr and Apollo have fallen in love with Hyacinth, but when Zephyr sees Hyacinth and Apollo playing discus together, he uses his wind to throw the discus off course so that it severs Hyacinth's head.

Zephyr is an unusual name in the United States, and has not appeared on the top 1000 most popular names list in any recorded year. It has had a bit more popularity in other countries: in 2003, Zephyr ranked as the 365th most popular boy's name in Australia. The name, or its variant Zéphir, may have had some popularity in France.

Happy April Fools' Day!

Of all the April Fools’ Day pranks I have experienced, one stands out more clearly in my mind than all the rest. I can certainly recall a number of “smaller” pranks, some of which were repeated year after year in our family. For example, the first person at our kitchen sink the morning of April 1 would, when turning on the water, typically be squirted by the sink sprayer, which was rigged with a rubber band and pointed directly in front of the faucet. And because sugar and salt are not easily distinguished, a bowl of breakfast cereal would certainly be a different taste experience. Also, a sleepy-eyed person making the first visit of the day to the bathroom might have a plastic-wrap surprise when using the toilet. These pranks are certainly funnier to the one doing the planning than to the victim!

When we lived in Salt Lake City, I typically took the bus to and from work. Because my commute was over an hour each way, I usually was quite tired by the time I would get home. Often the highlight of my day was being met by the kids, who would watch for the bus to arrive and would run out of the house to greet me.

One day I was puzzled when I exited the bus because no one appeared to welcome me home. Upon entering the house, I was shocked to see one of the girls lying on the couch wrapped in blood-stained bandages. Everyone had very grave looks on their faces and I immediately assumed the worst, thinking that my child had been hit by a car.

Why is that the first thing I would think? When I was a young boy, about 6-7 years old, I actually was hit by a car. The “main road” near my house was in reality not a very busy street. Pick-up baseball games would often be played in the front yard of the Ortega house and the outfield would reach out into the street. One day I happened to step back just as a car was passing and I was knocked to the ground (but not seriously hurt). This experience was pretty traumatic for me (I was hit by a CAR!) and caused me to be very cautious with my own children.

After seeing my obvious distress and the shocked look on my face, everyone burst out with “April Fool!” and I realized that I had been had … hook, line, and sinker. I was so relieved that nothing was seriously wrong AND so mad that everyone had banded together to play such a vile, mean, underhanded trick on me. My next thought? How could I do even better next April 1!

A new addition

What a miracle the birth of a baby is! We are very, very happy to welcome Silas into our family and are grateful for the answer to our many prayers in his and Lindsey's behalf (oh, okay, and Dustin too!).

Silas - Origin and Meaning of the name
(from www.babynamespedia.com)

The boy name Silas is pronounced as SAYLahS. Silas is used predominantly in the English language and its origin is Latin. Biblical name derived from the element 'silva' which means wood, forest. Silouanus (Old Greek), Silvanus (Latin), and Silvianus (Latin) are old forms of Silas. The name was originally used as a nickname for someone living in the woods, or else someone whose job involved working with wood. The name appeared in Roman mythology as Silvanus, the spirit or god of the trees. In the Bible, it was borne by a prophet and companion of the apostle Paul and Timothy. The name was also borne by several early saints, and was adopted by English Puritans in the 17th century. In literature, the name appeared as the miserly weaver in the George Eliot novel Silas Marner (1861), and as the villian in the Sheridan Le Fanu novel Uncle Silas (1864). The name Silvana (German and Italian) is the female version of Silas.

Popularity of SILAS as a boy's name in United States
(from www.babynamefacts.com)

Year - Rank
2007 - 346th
2006 - 373rd
2005 - 412th

An "L" of a birthday*

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears! March 19 is Brenda’s birthday, a significant one in that it ends in a zero. Some weeks ago Brenda mentioned to me that she has never in her life had a birthday party with invited guests just for her. She’s been part of many birthday parties for our kids when they invited guests. And we have had family birthday parties to celebrate Brenda’s birthday. But apparently neither as a child nor in our marriage has she enjoyed a “real” party of her own.

I thought about organizing a surprise party to celebrate Brenda’s birthday. But her birthday falls during Spring break and many of the friends I would invite are out of town. So I decided instead to invite church members, friends, and acquaintances from former times and places to join me in wishing Brenda a Happy Birthday by phone call, text message, or e-mail. I printed copies of a little card I handed out to people in church inviting them to contact Brenda. I also e-mailed many people in my address book with the same invitation. Brenda is not aware, I think, that I have gone to this effort. It will be fun to see how many people take part.

Already some birthday cards have arrived in the mail. Brenda was a little puzzled to receive a card from one woman she hardly knows. I was relieved to see that the note accompanying the card did not let the cat out of the bag.

Tonight I will need to be a little sneaky to charge Brenda’s cell phone without her knowing I am doing so. And tomorrow I will have to come up with some excuse to keep her at home so those trying to call Brenda can reach her.

Happy Birthday, Brenda. I love you.

* Think Roman numeral L

Dickens: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times;"

Here are a couple of observations I noted in a recent economic report:

US employment numbers dropped by 651,000 jobs in February, nearly equaling the monthly declines in December and January. The national unemployment rate rose from 7.6% to 8.1%, the highest since 1983.

I finished graduate school in 1983 during a significant recession. It was very difficult to find full-time employment at that time. In fact, because I could not find work I accepted a position as a summer intern while I continued to search for a “real” job. I felt a heavy responsibility to provide for my wife and three little children and was very concerned that I might not be able to find work by summer’s end. So how did I get a job?

My manager was responsible not only for Human Resources (my educational background), but also for Corporate Services, which included all the buildings and office cubicles. Several office moves were scheduled for the summer months and I did whatever I could to help out. So instead of doing what I was educated to do, I helped plan and organize office moves. This was “down and dirty” work, often involved working late and on weekends to help with the moves when people were away from the building. Instead of working with the white collar professionals in the company, I worked in the trenches with the maintenance workers, office construction staff, and moving company staff. I think when my manager saw my willingness to pitch in and help with whatever was necessary, she decided I was worth keeping. I ended the summer with the offer of a full-time position.

The United States, China, and many countries in Europe have enacted economic stimulus packages, with the U.S. and Chinese packages proportionately larger than the European packages. Little impact will be felt before late 2009; most of the impact will appear in 2010.

Today I think it is necessary to adopt a strategy to “ride out” the recession. It seems clear that a recovery will take some time to occur. That said, I am confident that we will see better times again. During difficult times, we can all fall victim to two extremes of thought. We can mistakenly think that good times will always continue and not have a backup plan or build a safety net. I think this is what we have witnessed during much of the last thirty years. The prophets have been very clear that we should be prepared for emergencies, including loss of employment and reduction of income. Conversely, during bad times we can conclude that the future will always be bleak. Such catastrophic thinking may destroy hope that better days will come. Both extremes can cause us to make short-term decisions that have poor long-term consequences.

Life tends to follow a roller-coaster pattern, with recurring highs and lows. I once heard a speaker say that as adults our lives would likely move in and out of crisis every three months or so. At the time I thought his comment was extreme. I no longer think so. I can think of no generation that has not had serious challenges and struggles. Certainly the pioneers faced difficulties we can only imagine. Within the last hundred years the world has experienced two great world wars and countless smaller wars. Some lethal diseases, now rare, were once commonplace. And economies have fluctuated over and over again. So what we are experiencing to day, though it may be different in degree, is certainly not different in kind from what many others have seen. We have no reason to expect a life without challenge and turmoil. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be happy and experience joy in life. With patience, preparation, persistence and prayer we can – and will – weather the problems we face. “Therefore, let your hearts be comforted; for all things shall work together for good to them that walk uprightly … (D&C 100: 15)

My nickname in grade school ... and Book of Mormon nicknames?

When I was a boy there was a fast food hamburger chain in Salt Lake City called Dee's Hamburgers. Long before McDonald's came to Utah, the advertising image of this outlet was a clown. If the clown had a name, I was unaware of it; everyone knew it as the Dee Burger Clown. I was the only student in school named Dee. And guess what my nickname was? Yes, I was known far and wide as the Dee Burger Clown.

Today going for a hamburger is practically an everyday occurrence. In the late 1950s and early 1960s it was still a big deal to go for burgers. This photo of the Dee Burger Clown shows a price of 28 cents for a hamburger, but I can remember when I was in graduate school in the early 1980s there would occasionally be specials for 19 cents (Mom and I would enjoy a night out for fine dining!) and on a rare Friday the 13th the special promotion would be hamburgers for 13 cents.

I can still remember the advertising jingle that played so often on the radio: "Let's all go to Dee's ... Let's all go to Dee's ... That's what Daddy says and the family all agrees. Dee's!" Okay, so it was in the days before women's rights and gender equality.

Eventually this chain was sold to Hardee's and the cherished Dee Burger Clown disappeared. My nickname hung on through high school, though, as the memory of Dee's Hamburgers was indelibly impressed in the memory of many people. Interestingly, the chain had an outlet in South Africa as some entrepreneur from Utah (a returned missionary, perhaps?) tried an early international expansion. Apparently this was the first experiment at a fast food outlet in that country (see Wikipedia for more details). The next photo shows what must have been the eventual fate of all the Dee Burger clowns (sigh) -- except me.


Based on my not altogether pleasant experience with this nickname, when Mom and I had children we tried very hard to choose names that we thought would not lend themselves to terrible nicknames. Try as we might, though, various nicknames took root and flourished. Ben became known early on as BJ. Lisa was called Weesa and later as Chunga (ask her). Brian became Briney when one of the younger girls couldn't quite master the correct pronunciation. Laura was Oreo for a time when Lindsey couldn't say the letter L properly. Later she was Lorp or Lorpie, and I believe eventually Autumn tagged her with Woe-wee. And Lindsey will forever be known as Cheekers (ask Laura for the de-"tail" on this one ... pardon the pun). I've undoubtedly overlooked or forgotten many other nicknames; perhaps everyone can add to the list I've started here.

In the back of some editions of the Book of Mormon is a pronunciation guide to the names found in the manuscript. What I would really like to see is a list of their nicknames! During my childhood Nephi might have been known as Pop (because of the Nephi soda sold at that time). Laman would undoubtedly have been Lame-man. Perhaps Lemuel would have been called Lemur (a cousin to a weasel?). We already know from John Bytheway that Shiblon was dubbed Shibby (ugh!). And it is for a good reason that the brother of Jared was known by that substitute for his real name ... but I bet he had a nickname, too. Too bad it was so difficult to engrave on the metal plates. Or maybe the nicknames are in the sealed portion of the plates!

100 and counting

In trying to decide the topic for my 100th blog entry, I have been considering themes that have to do with the number one hundred … century … Roman numeral C … and so on. When I thought about the number one hundred as ten squared, I was reminded of my grandparents who, coincidentally, each had ten children.

On the Oviatt side are three sons (Volmer, LuDean, Arden) and seven daughters (Vea, Grace, Agnes, Elva, Lois, Marva, Sally).

• Volmer lives in Price, Utah. He was involved in fierce fighting in WWII, but I never heard him mention anything about his war experiences. We would stop occasionally on the way to visit our grandparents to see him and Aunt Rita, who is now gone.
• LuDean and his wife Connie lived in California and we did not know him very well. The only time I remember seeing LuDean was at the Oviatt family reunion. They are both gone now.
• My dad, who died in 1976 a month after turning 44 years old, was the first of his siblings to pass away. He is buried next to his parents in the Elmo cemetery.
• Vea and her husband Leo Sabey lived in Midvale, less than a mile from the house we lived in from 1963 or 1964 to 1966. Uncle Leo was the manager of the Utah-Idaho sugar factory where both my parents worked for a time. Both are deceased.
• Grace and her husband Albert Rodgers lived in Salt Lake City. Grace was famous for the wonderful caramels she made for Christmas gifts. Her boys sold us a gasoline powered go-kart we loved driving up and own our lane. Both are gone now.
• Agnes lives with her son in Elmo. Even though she doesn’t see very well, she does intricate beadwork and has sent me a number of bead animals as gifts. Aunt Agnes lost a son in a coal mining accident. His body was never recovered.
• Sisters Elva and Lois married brothers Ted and Bill Jensen. We frequently visited Bill and Lois, who had children my age, but seldom visited Ted and Elva, whose children were older. You have heard me talk about visiting Aunt Lois’ farm and sledding down a snow-covered hill onto the roof of a shed. The first time I saw a goat slaughtered was at Uncle Bill’s house. Only Uncle Ted is still living.
• Marva Dawn and her husband Clifford Jones lived in Othello, Washington. I spent the summer of 1966 living with them and working on their farm. What an impact they had in my life and on my activity in the church! Marva still lives in Washington; Uncle Clifford is gone.
• Sally and her husband Dan Russ lived in Cheyenne, Wyoming. My earliest memory of Aunt Sally is seeing her in uniform (Air Force). While we didn’t visit her and Russ when I was younger, I have enjoyed visiting her as an adult. Pray for Aunt Sally as she recovers from double knee replacement surgery!
  

On the Allen side are five sons (Jim, Lynn, Hugh, Bob, Dean) and five daughters (Reva, Zelma, Melba, Loretta Mae, Rolene).

• Jim and his first wife, Connie, lived in California, where he had served in the Navy. After her death several years ago, he moved to Ferron, Utah and remarried (Dorothy). I have very few memories of Jim when I was young because he had already left home.
• Lynn is living in Colorado. Upon returning from his mission, he stayed with our family in Midvale for a short time while he was looking for a job. His first wife, Betty, died and I know little about his current situation.
• Hugh and his wife Carol lived in Grantsville, Utah. Hugh was terribly injured in an avalanche on a Boy Scout activity and nearly died. He also nearly lost his leg and had a very prolonged recovery. He finally passed away at a very young age of heart failure, no doubt hastened by his severe injury. I can remember Hugh digging out a basement under his house in Grantsville while he lived in the house. I never understood how the house didn’t fall in on him. Aunt Carol remarried and lives in Utah.
• Bob and his wife Earlene live in Orangeville, Utah. I worked for a brief period with Uncle Bob while on break from college classes. Bob saved my life one time by not killing me when I painted a house he was finishing the wrong color because I couldn’t tell the difference in the shades of the interior and exterior paint. Aunt Earlene made it possible for Mom and me to go to Mexico and Jamaica by watching our five children while we were gone (we didn’t trust anyone else with our kids!). Remember eating “dirt and worms?”
• Dean and his wife Connie live in Clawson, Utah. Dean went through the Salt Lake Temple with me as I prepared to leave for the mission field. I’m lucky this wasn’t work for the dead because of an earlier time when I was with him in a car he was driving and decided to show me what it was like to go 100 miles per hour on a country road!
• Aunt Reva and her husband Norman lived in Lawrence, Utah. Aunt Reva was already married when I remember visiting with my Allen grandparents. But we enjoyed many visits to her farm, especially at lambing time when we got to help feed the bummer lambs with large glass bottles full of milk. Uncle Norman is gone now.
• Zelma and her husband Jack Minchey live in Grantsville, Utah. We were frequent visitors at their home when I was growing up. One time I got into big trouble because I used my new tape recorder to secretly capture a conversation between my parents and Jack and Zelma. I have no idea what they were discussing. I remember that I was forced to erase the tape!
• Mom was responsible for purchasing the house in South Jordan where our family lived from 1966 until she moved recently. My father thought the $110/month payment for a house costing $20,000 was beyond their means and wanted to move into a more modest place (a dump close to a bar). But Mom held her ground – a wonderful decision for us kids!
• I never met Loretta Mae. When Grandmother Allen was pregnant, she slipped during a trip to the mountains and fell on her stomach. Loretta Mae was born disabled and eventually was placed in what was formerly called the American Fork Training School because of the care she needed for her severe disabilities. Coincidentally, she died shortly after my Grandfather Allen passed away in 1974.
• Rolene and her husband Gale Rasmussen live in Vernal, Utah. When I was a child Rolene visited with us and taught me how to dunk for quarters. On the Fourth of July holiday, one activity for the kids involved a big wash tub filled with water with coins scattered in the bottom. We were allowed to keep as many as we could pick up using only our mouths (no hands!). Thanks to Aunt Rolene, I became very good at this and got more than my fair share of extra spending money. Rolene has served as a Justice of the Peace in Vernal.

Not many people are so fortunate as to have twenty aunts and uncles (even more counting their spouses!).

Apologizing and Repenting

For years I have been amazed at what passes for an apology. A typical scenario is when someone gets caught (and this, unfortunately, is usually the motivation for what follows) doing something really stupid or unethical or vulgar or illegal and offers an apology by saying, "I'm sorry if anyone was offended by what I did."

This isn't an apology at all! In reality, this is a criticism. Someone who offers this type of "apology" is really saying, "I didn't do anything wrong. But I'm sorry that you are so overly sensitive that you were offended." In other words, no apology is really intended. And no change is intended except, perhaps, to avoid getting caught next time.

Imagine if people repented like this. "Heavenly Father, I realize that technically I broke six of the ten commandments and kind of skirted two of the others. I'm sorry if you are offended by what I did and hope you will forgive me."

Here is a lesson I learned while teaching my children (you will know who you are) to drive. When Brenda and I married, she did not have a driver's license and had, in fact, never learned to drive. Growing up in Branch, Arkansas (population 200) really didn't require either a license or a car. And coming to school at BYU in Provo certainly didn't require driving. So I did all the driving when we were dating and after we married. Occasionally Brenda would express concern or anxiety about my driving and I would get peeved at her for questioning my ability. Once I started teaching my own children to drive I rode in the passenger seat and gained a new perspective. It was at that point that I adopted a rule in my own life and tried to teach an important principle to my children: the driver is responsible to operate the vehicle in such a way that the passenger feels comfortable and safe. If Brenda does not feel safe, it is my job to change how I am driving so that she does. It is never acceptable to say (or even think), "If you don't like the way I drive, get out of the car!"

This was hard for me initially, but I have grown in wisdom ... at least in this area. My position is no longer, "I'm sorry if you don't like the way I drive." Instead, I swallow my pride and change my approach so that my passengers feel safe.

To me, this analogy illustrates the principle of a true apology. I don't slow down grudgingly while remaining angry. I change how I drive so my passenger feels truly safe. In areas other than driving, I no longer tell others I'm sorry if they are offended at something I have said or done. Instead, I tell them I am sorry for my words or acts. Even if I think they should not be offended, the reality is that they are and that I am the cause. When this is the case, I owe a true apology.

Now, if I can just master repentance ...

Good-"Buy" to Shopping

When the weekend comes, practically the last thing I want to do is go shopping. Yet this is exactly what a run to the store with Mom to buy something often turns into. And in only two sentences I have described one of the huge differences between men and women. I reference the title of a research study from a prestigious business school: "Men Buy, Women Shop." This is exactly what I experience.

For me, buying something is usually a focused, practical, short-term activity. That's because the act of making a purchase is very much tied up with solving a problem. I go to the store because I need something. The faster I can find what I am looking for, the sooner I can fix what is wrong and move on to doing something enjoyable.

For Mom, shopping is an "experience" or an "adventure." It is a chance to do something fun or different. It is an opportunity to explore ways in which our lives or house could be made more interesting. And it is a time to see new things and talk to new people. Shopping is enjoyable in itself and making the purchase brings the fun to an end. Mom will go to the store because she wants something, and that something is often a break or diversion from the day-to-day routine of life.

Don't get me wrong; I will price shop for a significant purchase to make sure I'm getting a good deal. But this type of shopping is a means to an end, and the end is buying. For Mom, shopping can be recreational, a "date" like eating out or going to a movie.

Now, how do you think we enjoy going to the store together? Often I am finished within the first 5-10 minutes and Mom is just getting warmed up. A recent visit to the thrift store is a case in point. I went into the store thinking that I would try to find a shirt. I found two shirts within a few minutes, quickly walked up and down the store aisles to see if there was any bargain too good to pass up, and then went to tell Mom I was ready to go. When Mom walked into the store, the jewelry counter caught her eye. While I found my shirts and went through the entire store, Mom was still looking at jewelry. She was not even close to being ready to go let me know that she needed much more time to look through the rest of the store. So I drove home to shovel the driveway and came back 45 minutes later to get her (and she still was not finished shopping).

The person who performed our marriage (I'll always remember his name, Vernon Thomander) counseled Mom and me always to do everything together. I understand the wisdom of his counsel and have tried to observe it throughout our marriage. His intent, I'm sure, was to strengthen our marriage and help us draw closer to one another. But I'm quite confident our marriage will continue stronger if I "buy" and Mom "shops" separately!

Under the Weather

A virus is making its way through Central Iowa, leaving a path of misery and woe. It is so widespread that the local news ran a feature story on how many people are sick, missing work and school. Unfortunately, Brenda and I have both been afflicted.

I've noticed that when I get sick, I get REALLY sick and need special pampering and tender loving care. (I know Brenda gets sick, too, but that is just "normal" sick.) I also get cravings, which I assume is my body's way of telling me that it needs something to fight off the symptoms of illness.

The first and foremost requirement when I am sick is for salt and vinegar flavored potato chips and citrus flavored soda; Squirt or whiskey sour is best, though Fresca will do in a pinch. These alone practically guarantee a rapid and full recovery. Or perhaps they just ease the misery.

A backup remedy is Red Hots candy. The cinnamon seems to burn the toxins out of my system. And when I eat too many, my tongue gets burned as well. But that seems a small price to pay to feel better.Finally, I resort to chicken noodle soup. This cannot be canned soup, but has to be the dry mix package boiled in water.

Any of these remedies work best with a good murder mystery or two.

Aside from food, I also need a large box of lotion-infused facial tissue and an inhaler to clear my passages. I usually don't take much medicine. I can only take a half dose of Benadryl, because I react to it so strongly. It clouds my head and makes my skin feels so sensitive that even the bed sheets irritate me. And I will take NyQuil only in the most extreme circumstances, because the taste is far worse than the ailment. Isn't there some way in today's scientific world that medicine can be made to taste better?

When I was a boy I would sometimes come down with the croup. Mom would drape a sheet over the bed and support it in such a way to make a tent. A vaporizer would go underneath the tent to create a mist for my lungs. And she would also rub Ben-Gay and Vicks VapoRub on my chest. Interestingly, this mixture smelled very much like root beer extract. I still have fond memories of root beer scented reading marathons while ill.

Wisdom of the Fathers

For Christmas this year I had copies made of an audio recording my Dad sent to me while I was serving as a missionary in Viet Nam. I stumbled across this recording while organizing my basement and realized that, because he died in 1976, my wife and children never heard my father's voice. The recording was brief (less than five minutes) and the quality wasn't very good because of the state of the technology then. Also, because Dad had a cold the voice didn't sound quite right. But it was an interesting gift.

This has me thinking about some of the things Dad used to say to us kids. Two things readily come to mind:

While Mom usually got stuck with the dishes, on occasion we kids would do the dishes with Dad. He always insisted on washing and we had to dry and put away the dishes. If we found a dish that didn't quite get washed clean and had a bit of something stuck to it, we would gleefully point out the problem and hand the dish back to Dad. He would look at it and say, "It's a damn poor wiper who can't get what little the washer misses!" We weren't allowed to use such language, of course. But this made us all the more anxious to find the next problem so we could hear him say it again!

Utah Power and Light, the electric utility where I grew up, used in their advertising a character named Reddy Kilowatt. When Dad would say something to us that we didn't quite catch and we would say, "What?", he would reply, "Watt? Are you a light bulb?"

I don't know why these things stick out, but they are very clear memories. I'll add more examples later.

Cognition and Emotion

For years I have been studying how cognition influences emotion, or how our thinking drives our feelings. I can remember very clearly telling myself in high school that while I could help what I thought and what I did, I could not help what I felt. I don't know why at the time I believed that so strongly. Perhaps it is because in the teen years emotions can be so very powerful. As it turns out, I was wrong about being able to help what I felt because I did not understand the link between thoughts and emotions.

Many people are bothered by feelings about past events or are fearful about the future they imagine. As the first figure shows, the past and future can have no direct impact in our lives because they are, by definition, not present. However, we are capable of remembering (re-presenting) the past and imagining (pre-presenting) the future in the present through our thinking. In other words, we create a present-based version of the past or future. So we can "experience" the past or future in our thoughts, but not in reality. If we remember the past with fondness or look forward to the future with hopeful anticipation, this can be a blessing. However, too many look backward with regret and forward with fear. This is not useful or healthy. The past is behind us and cannot harm us; only our thinking about the past can cause us to suffer. Similarly, the future is before us and cannot harm us; only our thinking can do so. I hold to Dan Zadra's notion that "Worry is a misuse of imagination."

And while we do experience others and events or circumstances in the present, it is our thinking about these that are the cause of stress and suffering. This is a difficult concept to understand and accept, but is so powerful and liberating. The power of our minds and our agency is phenomenol.

What is the main message of the first figure? I experience the world -- past, present and future -- through my thoughts, which give rise to the emotions I feel. If I struggle and suffer, the immediate cause is my thinking about the past, the present, others and events or circumstances, and not any of those things directly.

The second figure expands on this by illustrating that living in the world of "should" and "should not" rather than in the world of "what is" (reality) is the cause of our suffering. This, again, is a function of our thinking. My friend, Rebecca Overson, counsels that we stop "shoulding all over ourselves" in order to end our suffering. The wise come to learn that "pain is inevitable; suffering is optional." (Unknown author)

We enjoy a gift of agency that cannot be taken from us. While we may not enjoy the power to change the circumstances we face in life, we always have the power of choice regarding our thinking about what we experience and, thus, the associated feelings. More on this later ...

Saturday Morning Waffles

A tradition in our family was for Dad to make waffles on Saturday mornings. I don’t remember how this tradition was born, though I have fond memories of my father cooking eggs and potatoes on occasion. Somehow, Dad’s cooking tasted extra good – probably because of the novelty of him cooking. I’m sure that Mom must not have appreciated our making such a big deal out of Dad’s cooking when she did the lion’s share of fixing meals!

In our “empty nest” we rarely have waffles. In fact, we no longer own a waffle iron. But on Saturday morning it was a big deal to dig out the thrift store waffle iron and make a big batch. Here is the original recipe I used:

Combine:
· 2 cups flour
· 2 heaping tablespoons baking powder

In a separate container mix:
· 1/4 cup oil
· 2 cups milk
· 4 eggs

Add all ingredients together, mixing well (add solids to liquids so it doesn’t lump on the bottom). Cook in a hot skillet. Eat and enjoy!

One modification I made later was to separate the egg whites, beat them until stiff, and then fold the whites into the batter (don’t mix too much).

Happy Birthday!

We observe birthdays annually, advancing one year every 365 days (plus one day in a leap year). This cycle is tied to planetary motion, of course, reflecting the orbit of the earth around the sun.

I remember when Emily celebrated Autumn’s pi-day at 3.14 years old. Imagine if instead of observing annual birthdays, we all marked pi birthdays. (A one-pi birthday is three years and 51 days, a two-pi birthday is six years and 102 days, and so on.) This might be ideal for those who like to shave years off their actual age. “How old are you anyway, Dee?” “Well, I am coming up on 18 pi … still a teenager.”

Conversely, we could also celebrate metric birthdays. A metric birthday is not quite as long as a pi birthday, and uses a different taxonomy. (A one-kilo birthday is 1,000 days, a two-kilo birthday is 2,000 days, and so on.) If someone asked me how old I am today, I could reply , “Today I am 19.9 kilodays old. On April 30 I’ll hit the big 20-k!”

So here’s a little fun. As of today (ages rounded to one decimal point):
▪ Brenda is 18.2 kilodays old
▪ Ben and Emily are respectively 10.8 and 9.5 kilodays old
▪ Autumn and Prairie are respectively 1.9 and 1.3 kilodays old
▪ Lisa and Brian Higginson are 10.2 and 12.3 kilodays old
▪ Vaughn and Dean are 1.3 and 0.2 kilodays old
▪ Brian and Laura Wangerin are 9.6 and 8.5 kilodays old
▪ Laura is 8.4 kilodays old
▪ Lindsey and Dustin are 7.5 and 8.9 kilodays old

Maybe I’ll figure out pi-birthdays later. Right now my head hurts, but I also feel much younger!

All I want for Christmas is ...

This year we planned to stay home for Christmas, but in the end we could not stand to celebrate the holiday without seeing the grandchildren. Oh, yes, and our children, also. So we braved the icy roads of Interstate 80 and spent a lovely week in Utah.

Normally I don't put much emphasis on gifts I receive. After all, we continue to practice our tradition of "used Christmas" and it is easy not to get excited about receiving a gift with a history.

But this year! I received a bust of the Savior (I've always wanted one). I received an iPod (I've always wanted one). I haven't figured out how to download music yet, but I will ... someday. I received a training kit that will teach me to play the piano. (I've always wanted one.) I received an annotated (with personal notes and memories) book about why daughters need fathers (I hadn't always wanted one, but do now because it made me cry). I received home-bottled salsa (I've always wanted some). And more! (I've always wanted more.)

Unfortunately, Brenda cheated. She broke our rule about giving only used Christmas gifts to present me with the following:

I forgive you, Brenda, for buying me the complete collection of Calvin and Hobbes. (I've always wanted one.) I haven't quite been able to bring myself to actually open the set so far, but plan to do so ... soon.

Illusions

I've always been intrigued by optical illusions. We tend to trust in what we can see ("I'll believe it when I see it!"), but it is very evident that it is easy to trick our eyes and brains. In each example below, we see something that isn't so, or see only part of the whole.

For example, the illusion at the upper left appears to show lines moving toward or away from each other. In reality, the lines are perfectly parallel. Immediately to the right are two lines enclosed by arrow points at either end. The lines are the same length, but the top one appears to be shorter. And the figure to the right spells a word. Is it "Good" or "Evil"?

On the next row is an elephant with a confusing number of legs. Is the number four? Or more? To the right of the elephant is a black and white figure of a young woman. Or is it a musician playing an instrument? And which figure is longer, A or B? Both are, of course, the same size.

In the last row the circles in the center appear different sizes, but are not. The wavy checkerboard turns out to be composed of straight lines. The next figure does not contain a drawn circle, though one is clearly visible. It is only the appearance of a circle, composed of off-setting horizontal lines. And Lincoln's hat is just as wide as it is tall.

Illusions of this type can be fun. But it important to remember that much of what we experience in life is very illusion-like. Events in life are inherently meaning-less; we are the ones who provide the meaning. Human beings are meaning-seeking. We tell ourselves stories (i.e., give explanations) about everything we experience in order to make sense of life. But we mistakenly assume that our conclusions are the truth rather than just stories we tell. And our emotions flow from our conclusions and stories.

We need never be in the grip of strong emotion because we enjoy the greatest power ever ... the power of agency, or choice. We can always choose to tell a different story and, by so doing, experience a different emotion. Those who learn this lesson early in life escape much pain and suffering.

My hope is that we all become "dis-illusioned" with life and with other people. I find personally that I do much better in life when I am curious about what happens rather than when I am angry or frustrated or upset. Curiosity causes me to see behind the illusion I hold to other possible truths, some of which are even more likely and many of which do not cause me to suffer.