Thankful for ...

Thanksgiving is not the only time of year I am grateful for my many, many blessings. I recognize just how blessed I am in ways big and small. Today I am thinking about some "small" blessings in my life for which I am extremely grateful.

• Hot running water. Each day when I shower I say a little prayer of thanks for hot running water. As a boy when I visited my grandparents' farm we took baths in a number two metal tub. We thought this was unique and exciting, but that was because it was a novelty rather than the routine. When we went back home I enjoyed bathing in a "real" tub, never appreciating how fortunate I was. Today I am grateful for hot showers whenever I want one.
  
  
  
  
  
• Indoor plumbing. Can you even imagine using a chamber pot? We used an outhouse when visiting my Allen grandparents, with a Sears catalog for toilet paper. My Grandmother Oviatt had an inside bathroom, but we used this only in cold weather and only for our "number one" business. Otherwise, we used her outhouse. My mother tells how as a child she and her sisters used to wait until their father would go to the outhouse first on cold winter mornings. Once he was finished and the seat was defrosted, there was a mad rush to be next.

• Electric appliances and lights. My gas and electric appliances offer great convenience in preparing meals, washing clothes and dishes, and keeping food cold and fresh. My grandparents cooked on coal stoves very similar to the one pictured here. Note the metal tool to lift the lids from the top of the stove without getting burned. The looped metal handle would be warm to the touch, but would not get hot enough to burn. And I am so grateful that I did not depend on candles or fuel lamps for light.

Sometime the small blessings are the greatest!

Some of life's important lessons

When I entered the mission field, I had only the vaguest of ideas about how to serve as a missionary. I received a small missionary handbook with instructions I tried to follow faithfully, but really "learned by doing" until near the end of my service I finally felt I knew how to do the work I was finishing.

As a young social worker, I worked with troubled youth and taught parenting classes. My "book learning" did not make up for my lack of practical experience and, looking back, I clearly understand why my clients were skeptical of principles and techniques I offered them. Now that my own children are grown and gone with children of their own, I finally have a better idea of how to parent.

After three decades of marriage, I am getting the hang of being a good husband. Much wisdom has come with learning what not to do. With a little luck, Brenda will enjoy the benefits of what I have learned for a few more years before we are both gone.

I've heard it said that intelligence is learning from your own experiences while wisdom is learning from the experiences of others. I wonder how many are wise in this regard.

At any rate, here are some of life's important lessons I have learned.

1. It is easier to loosen the reins than to tighten them. I was a strict father, not because I wanted control over my children, but because I wanted them to be safe. Perhaps I did not get it right in determining how loose or tight to maintain the reins. But I did learn that trying to tighten loose reins was a real challenge.
   
   
2. Offense cannot be given, it can only be taken. No one can offend you without your assistance. We are offended not so much by what others say or do to us, but by what we tell ourselves about what they are doing and why they are doing it. Every instance of offense rests upon our own strongly held "should" or "should not." In a very real sense, we offend ourselves using the other person as the reason we do so. Others have no power over us to cause offense ... unless we cooperate with them. Does this mean I think that others never do insensitive, mean or cruel things? Of course not. But ours is the choice as to whether we are offended by such behavior. When we say to ourselves, "S/he makes me so mad," we are being neither accurate nor truthful.
   
   
3. When you try to change another person the only result that is guaranteed is that you will make two people unhappy - yourself and the other person. Why did it take me so long to learn this lesson? There is a very important difference between not putting up with unacceptable behavior and attempting to change another person. We do not have to put up with unacceptable behavior. But this does not require that we attempt to change others. Frankly, I don't think one person can change another. But I think one person can cause great unhappiness trying to change another, both for him/herself and for the the person s/he is trying to change.
   
   

Someone once told me of a great German saying, "Too soon old, and too late smart!" (It sounds better if you try to affect a strong German accent.) This is certainly true for me.

Love to Read

Reading has always been my favorite hobby and my greatest source of learning and enjoyment. I really don't remember learning to read. I do remember in first grade my teacher, kindly white-haired Mrs. Carter, having us sit on the floor in a group around her while she held up flash cards with words printed on them in bold letters. As a class, we would call out together the words on the cards. I was surprised once when I was the only voice to be heard when she held up a card. Apparently it was a word she had not introduced to us previously, but I must have learned it in reading.

How I enjoyed going to the library as a boy. I can remember the sense of responsibility I felt when I got my first library card. The librarian impressed upon my mind the value of the books loaned to me, the care I must take not to damage them, and how responsible I must be to be sure the books were returned in good condition so others could enjoy them. She also made sure I understood the care I must take not to lose my library card.

When I discovered how books in the library were organized by topics, using the Dewey Decimal System, I was very impressed. What a wonderful way to organize knowledge! This really appealed to my orderly mind. So did the card catalog, which contained 3x5 cards listing information on every single book in the library. Obviously, this was long before the days of computers and online listings.

During school, periodically we were able to submit a book order. It seems that a portion of my allowance frequently went to purchase a precious book of my own. Recently in thrift stores I came across two of the titles I purchased in elementary school. One was a biography of Harry Houdini and the other, titled "Yellow Eyes," was the story of a cougar. I enjoyed re-reading both and was magically transported back to an earlier time. I kept these books and hope some day to share them with my grandchildren.

In the summer when school was out, I made regular trips to the library. My bicycle had a basket attached to the handlebars. The number of books that could be checked out at any one time was limited to ten. So every two weeks I would go to the library and find ten new books to bring home to read. This would usually fill the basket on my bicycle and, if the books were big and heavy, make it a bit of a challenge to steer. Rarely did I return in two weeks without having read all ten books.

Even as a youth I came across some favorite series. As one example, I was thrilled to discover the Wizard of Oz books by L. Frank Baum. (These were the Harry Potter books of their day.) I read every single title in the series ... and actually wept when I learned that the author was no longer living and realized there would be no more books in the series for me to read.

Even as a boy I went through phases in my reading interests: sports, dinosaurs, science fiction, mysteries. And I also had favorite authors: Robert Heinlein, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Mark Twain, Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, and many others.

I was fortunate not to get car sick while reading. Whenever we would go to visit my grandparents (a drive of two hours), I would make sure always to take something to read.

As a father, when we moved our family to Kansas and to Des Moines I made sure one of the first places we visited was the library. When my children were old enough, each got his or her own library card. I remain convinced that reading is a critically important skill for learning and developing the brain. And I believe that a love of reading is a very important attribute for all children to develop. I fear in today's electronic world a love of reading often falls by the wayside, which is unfortunate.

As a missionary and wanting to make productive use of my time, I would combine reading with brushing my teeth. Doing so allowed me to read two lengthy tomes by James E. Talmadge - "Jesus the Christ" and "The Articles of Faith" - a couple of pages at a time. Oh, and upon returning from serving my mission my dentist commented on the very good shape of my teeth.

I find that I get a little anxious if I find myself in a place with no reading material. While I love the heft and feel of an actual book, I suppose that some day I will succumb and ask Santa for an e-reader as a Christmas gift. While it won't be the same as actually holding a book and turning the pages, it certainly will make it easy to carry an assortment of books with me wherever I happen to be.

Good reading to all!

Office Move

Last week I moved offices. In one sense this was not a big undertaking because I moved one row over and five rows down, probably a distance of fifty feet. In another sense this was a big deal because just as much preparation and packing is required for a move like this as for a move to another floor or another building.

A good thing about moving offices (or, more accurately, cubicles) is the chance to de-clutter, reorganize, and get a fresh start of sorts in a new/different space. In my case there is the added bonus of being moved from a cube in the middle of the building to a cube at the end of a row. In my new location I can see out the building window to the south overlooking a green field and the walking path that goes from our parking lot into a wooded area. The view and the exposure to natural light is a big improvement.

During the day I can watch people running or biking on the path. Sometimes I join them over the lunch hour for a walk to stretch my legs and clear my head. At dusk it is not uncommon to see deer emerge from the woods to feed in the field. As I exit the parking lot I will frequently stop and watch the deer until they get nervous at my gaze and drift away.

While this is not Walden Pond (and I am certainly not Thoreau), it is nevertheless a small piece of placid country in the midst of more congested (by comparison) city living, busy traffic, and hectic corporate working. I have no idea how long I am likely to work in this space, but will certainly enjoy each day I can look out the window ... and relax.

Twice the Fun

What's worse than a root canal? How about a second root canal on the same tooth!

The crown my dentist put on my cracked tooth last year did not prevent the problem he predicted could occur (20% chance, he thought) and that, if it did, would require a root canal. So in January I visited an endodontist and underwent this procedure. I expected some swelling and pain, but thought this would go away relatively quickly.

However, the swelling never went all the way down and the pain never went entirely away. I went back to the endodontist once and he adjusted/reshaped the crown so I was not biting on it and causing trauma to the ligament or bone. After more weeks of "wait and see" it became apparent that the predicted healing was not taking place.

So today I went back to have the procedure repeated. I'm always concerned when a medical professional has a discussion with me that goes something like this (especially when my mouth is full of medication that is making my gums numb):

Dr. Nelson: "Well, if your tooth was cracked when the crown was put on, then re-doing this procedure might not take care of the problem. You may need to have the tooth removed and go with a bridge or an implant."

Me: "So it sounds like you don't think re-doing the root canal will solve the problem."

Dr. Nelson: "It might. We can try if that is what you think you would like to do. Or would you rather have me stop now and you can go back to your dentist?"

Me: "Let's see if I can remember what they taught me in dental school so I can make this decision."

Okay, I admit the conversation didn't take place in precisely the way I've represented it. But it did feel like I was being asked what I thought was the best thing to do. I know, I know ... the medical expert can only inform and advise, and the patient has to make the decision. But I expect an opinion, based on years of training and experience, about the best course of action -- not asking me what I think would be the best thing to do.

In the end Dr. Nelson convinced me that we should try the root canal again (at no charge). I'm a little skeptical after our discussion, but we'll hope for the best and be prepared for the next step if necessary. At least I know a good oral surgeon in our stake.

Blood, Sweat, and Fears

When I was a graduate student in Salt Lake City I started donating blood platelets. At that time my primary motivation was financial. While it was NOT legal to pay for blood or blood products, it was permissible to pay donors for their time. More than 30 years later I continue to donate platelets though there is no longer any remuneration for one's time; my primary motivation is to help cancer patients.

Unlike donating whole blood, an apheresis donation involves both arms and takes about 90 minutes. (A one-arm process is available, but takes even longer.) The following images give some idea of the process, the machine used, and how I am situated when I donate ... except I have a portable DVD player on my lap watching a video.

The process of donating platelets is called apheresis. According to Merriam Webster, the definition of apheresis is "withdrawal of blood from a donor's body, removal of one or more blood components (as plasma, platelets, or white blood cells), and transfusion of the remaining blood back into the donor —called also pheresis. The origin of the word is from -apheresis (as in plasmapheresis) with the first known use in 1977.

One of the biggest problems with an apheresis donation is predictable -- for an hour and a half you cannot scratch where it itches. And you don't realize just how much your nose and face and head and neck itch until you can't scratch.

The other issue is more irksome than a problem. Usually you don't have time to finish watching a movie before the procedure is over. So unless you watch a movie you've seen previously or run home and watch the rest of the movie, you don't see the ending. But I'm pretty sure the good guys win. I hope the platelet recipients also win.

What is the time? "Tooth-hurty"

What was supposed to happen after my recent root canal was a recovery period, followed by a visit to my dentist to have the temporary filling in my crown drilled out and replaced with a permanent filling. However, when I went back to Dr. Shay things did not go as planned.

Dr. Shay was able to drill out the temporary filling with no problem. But when he began inserting the permanent filling I flinched because of the pain. He paused and said, "You aren't supposed to be feeling anything." He inserted the filling material deeper -- and I came right up off the chair. "Ow!" I exclaimed. "Something is wrong. I've never had this happen before following a root canal," said Dr. Shay.

So it was back to the endodontist for what I thought would be a repeat of the earlier procedure. Fortunately, he decided to reshape the crown slightly to ensure there was no pressure and irritation when biting, and "wait and see" for a couple more weeks. This strategy seems to be paying off, as the swelling and pain is gradually subsiding. So it may simply be that I didn't allow enough recovery time before returning for the permanent filling.

It is a blessing to live in a time where we have such wonderful medical and dental care. In earlier times the options for dealing with the problem I have were undoubtedly very limited and involved a choice between suffering and pulling a tooth. Once infected, even such a "minor" problem could sometimes result in death.

I don't have to worry about infection because of the availability of modern antibiotics. Not only do these medicines help me, but they also help my dog, Tara. Recently I took Tara in to have her teeth cleaned. The vet sent me home with antibiotic pills for Tara as a safeguard to prevent any infection. I don't mind taking antibiotics, but Tara doesn't like hers. Initially I tried to get her to take the pill from my hand, but after tasting it once she refused to do so again. The second time I hid the pill in some bread and she ate it. But the taste must have been apparent, because the next time she ate the bread and spit out the pill. I finally found success by hiding the pill in bread and applying a layer of barbeque sauce, which did the trick.

Tara and I are both on the mend. I hope my next visit to the dentist is a "ful-filling" one.

Cold!

In the Midwest we are tired of the frigid temperatures and bitter cold! Yes, the East coast has received more snow this year and are "enjoying" their own miserable winter similar to what we experienced last year. But I'm tired of the cold.

How cold is it? I'm glad you asked!

It’s colder than …

• a cast iron commode on the shady side of an iceberg.
• a well digger’s backside.
• a mother-in-law’s kiss.
• a banker’s heart.
• the last man’s rear end on a toboggan.
• a polar bear’s toenails.

It's so cold that ...

• we had to chisel the dog off the fire hydrant.
• your shadow freezes to the sidewalk.
• you have to break the smoke off your chimney.
• the lawyers have their hands in their own pockets.
• if the thermometer was an inch longer I’d freeze to death.
• if you suck on an ice cube it just gets bigger.
• I climbed in the refrigerator to warm up.
• Chuck Norris put on a jacket.
• when we milked cows we got ice cream.
• when I turned on the shower I got hail.
• Scotsmen started wearing pants.
• we had to defrost the fireplace before we could start a fire.
• parents encouraged their kids to play with matches.
• I saw an Amish man buying an electric blanket.
• men use Tabasco sauce as aftershave.

Endodontics ... and the Mamas and Papas

My new word for the day is Endodontics (from the Greek endo - "inside" - and odons - "tooth"), a branch of dentistry dealing with tooth pulp and the tissues surrounding the root of a tooth.

I am more familiar with the descriptive, but certainly less technical, term "root canal." Endodontics is not a word I care to learn, but a visit to the dentist today led both to an education and to an appointment Monday morning for an endodontic procedure.

In December I experienced pain in one of my teeth on the upper right side (tooth number 4, in dental jargon). Dr. Shay discovered that the tooth was cracked and recommended a crown. He told me that in about 80% of cases like mine the crown would be a sufficient repair with no further problems. In the remaining cases, additional treatment might be required.

For several weeks my crown has worked as advertised. However, a few weeks ago I noticed pain when chewing on the right side. No problem, I thought, I'll just chew on the left side and wait for the pain to subside. This strategy worked for a time, but earlier this week I started experiencing sporadic pain that didn't involve chewing. Once the pain started waking me up (and keeping me up) at night, I knew I would have to go back to see Dr. Shay.

An x-ray showed no problem with the tooth. However, a more sophisticated diagnostic tool and test (tapping firmly on my tooth with a hard metal instrument!) revealed that I was experiencing pain (!!!) in the tooth and would need to undergo a root canal. I thought Dr. Shay would perform this procedure, but learned from him that once a crown is in place the root canal is performed by an endodontist - a dental practitioner who specializes in (and does primarily only ) root canals.

This image shows an abscessed tooth, the root canal treatment (drilling, filing, and filling), and the crown.
In light of my appointment first thing next week, I'll end this post with selected lyrics from the song "Monday, Monday" by the Mamas and Papas:

Monday, Monday, can't trust that day
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday mornin' you gave me no warnin' of what was to be ...

Every other day, every other day
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
you can find me cryin' all of the time

New Year's Evolution

Not quite two weeks into the new year we have experienced another change with the birth of a new grandchild ... our family continues to evolve. Lindsey and Dustin welcomed a baby boy to join their son, Silas, and their foster daughter, Angela. I can't yet welcome this little one by name; that detail is pending. But I can express my gratitude for a safe delivery, a normal baby, a healthy mother, and a proud father.

Nothing is quite so miraculous as the birth of a child. For some this is a biological wonder ... and for others there is an added spiritual miracle that takes place when a child of Heavenly Father crosses the veil to enter mortality. Nothing is ever quite the same after a child is born. Nothing is ever quite so easy and nothing is ever quite so rewarding.

If we calculate the cost of raising a child, we can hardly justify having more than one or two. But when we take into account the blessings, we come to understand that the greatest rewards are not reflected in a financial calculation or balance sheet.

At one time or another each of my children with kids of their own has asked, "Dad, how did you and Mom raise five children? How did you do it?" Typically this question is asked amidst some trial or affliction, during an illness or difficult day. My honest answer is that Mom and I hardly knew what we were doing or what raising one child would entail, let alone five. We stepped out in faith, confident that we would receive help and blessings along the way.

My parenting path includes happiness and heartache, laughter and loss, delight and despair, wonder and worry. I know my children face a very similar path, but in a world that is increasingly challenging. I pray that my children will be blessed with offspring as wonderful as mine. And I'm confident that they will be wonderful parents. Someday their own children will likely be asking them, "Mom and Dad, how did you raise us?" How did you do it?" And they will smile and wonder at the answer themselves.

Parenting Perils

Parenting after your own children are grown and gone is a real challenge. What does it mean to “parent” adults who in many cases are themselves parents? How is parenting dependent children or quasi-independent teens different from parenting independent adults? Is such parenting even welcome or wanted? If so, when or under what circumstances?

I don’t have answers to these questions. I know others, including some LDS authors, have written about this topic. I haven’t read any of these books. And I don’t know if I plan to do so any time soon. Other authors have written about grandparenting. I haven’t read these books, either. I can’t help but think I could have more impact and positive influence as a grandparent if I lived near my grandchildren. This is something I would love to do, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards any time soon. For now I must be content with sending cards or letters each month and visiting when I can.

I know some aspects about adult parenting that are very hard. First and foremost is watching my children struggle and, in some cases, suffer. Gone are the days when I could “make things all better” for my children when they ran into the house crying with a scraped knee or owie. The adage “little kids, little problems – big kids, big problems” certainly seems true at times.

I know there is value in struggling and that growth occurs from overcoming trials and adversity. I’m clear that we are in mortality to be tested and tried, and to learn from our experiences. That knowledge doesn’t stop me from wanting to ease the burden for my children, especially when the challenges appear to be so great that I don’t see the opportunities for growth and learning.

I have to remind myself that I am to God as a toddler is to me in understanding, maturity, patience, wisdom, faith, and so on. Trusting in God’s way and timing is truly an exercise of faith and patience. I pray for my children and their families constantly. That is easy. I also, when praying, ask for guidance on what I can do to help my children. Knowing the answers to that question is much more difficult.

Another challenge in adult parenting is knowing what NOT to say and when NOT to say it. It is true that wisdom comes with experience, age, and perspective. It is also true that most people don’t learn from the wisdom of others as well as they do through their own experiences. For example, it took me nearly three decades to learn that when you try to change another person the only thing you do is make two people unhappy – that person and yourself. Each and every time I try to change someone else I succeed only in creating unhappiness. But how do you pass along a lesson like that? Can it even be understood or “learned” except by personal struggle and experience? Suffice it to say that my tongue is much tougher than it once was from having bitten it so many times!

Another challenge is being connected. Children have their own lives and are busy with the tasks and chores of everyday living. As a result, I know far less about the lives of my children than I once did. I am very grateful for all the modern conveniences that make it so easy to stay connected. This has not always been the case. Long distance phone calls were prohibitively expensive when I was a child. Usually, receiving a long distance call meant a death or serious illness/accident in the family. Today such calls are virtually free. And we have blogs, social media, texting, email, web cams, etc., making staying connected easier than it ever has been.

Ironically, the very availability and ease of these tools may not always translate into connectedness. Because we CAN connect doesn’t always mean that we DO connect … at least, not as often as parents (especially long distance parents) might desire. And this is the rub. I certainly can make calls or send emails whenever I want. But how much connection is good? One of the things that make calls and visits so special is that they are not everyday occurrences. Ideally I would live close enough to my children and their families to drive by their residences frequently, see the children outside playing, and stop to say hello. That arrangement is increasingly rare in today’s world. I'm very lucky that my children use a variety of means to keep connected with me. I receive phone calls and can view photos posted online. I love receiving funny and unexpected text messages. I keep up with daily life through social media pages. Though I live very far away from my grandchildren, I am not disconnected from them.

Later this month we hope to visit Utah to celebrate Christmas with most of my children and all of my grandchildren. I am so excited to see everyone again and to participate in the magic of the Christmas season. So for a few days I will get to be a close up and hands on Poopa. What a wonderful Christmas gift for me!

Getting Too #*%^&! Old

I first started playing basketball when I was 11 years old, having moved to South Jordan and entered West Jordan Junior High School (the "Shamrocks" ... yes, the fighting Shamrocks!). I was involved in helping my PE teacher do some research on what must have been a thesis for his Master's Degree. This entailed visiting a number of schools and conducting tests on those trying out for their teams. So I would use a stopwatch and time players as they ran through a series of skills exercises. I'm not clear on the hypothesis for the research and never was all that interested in the results. But I did get hooked on basketball. Unfortunately, I was not particularly skilled and also was not in good physical shape. When I first started running up and down the court I would get so light headed that I thought I was going to faint. I was glad to get past that stage fairly quickly and develop the stamina and wind that allowed me to play.

Today there are organized basketball leagues starting at very young ages. At that time we had little league baseball and football, but there was no opportunity to play basketball outside of pickup games with friends in the driveway. I dreamed of being good enough to play at the highest level, but obviously that was not in the cards for someone with my stature and skills. I did make the high school team my first (sophomore) year, but was not as skilled as most of the other players who had been on the Junior High team. Church basketball provided another outlet for competition and some wonderful opportunities, including playing on a team with former high school players that won the All Church Tournament championship game (Junior Division) the last year this contest was held. What a thrill that was!

Fast forward forty years -- I am still playing basketball Saturday mornings at the church, mostly with people 20-30 years younger. I have certainly lost a step, but still can play at a respectable level. However, every so often I sustain an injury that has Brenda questioning my sanity. Earlier this year I lost a toenail when another player landed hard on my foot. And yesterday I landed on another player's foot and sprained my ankle.

These images show how a sprain occurs and the results. The photo is not of my ankle, but this is what my ankle looks like today. I suspect that later this week the bruising will be very colorful. While I'm not surprised to sprain an ankle, I am disheartened by how long healing seems to take now. My aging body wonders why I am still playing a young man's game and is encouraging me to think about retiring!

Extreme Home Makeover

Before ... and after

Hunting Season

Recently I ran across an old album featuring some of the “cowboy music” my father enjoyed in the early 1960s. Because of the wonder of modern technology, now it is possible to find recordings of many of these old songs online.

One song still makes me nostalgic for those days, a novelty song called “I Won’t Go Huntin' With You, Jake (But I’ll Go Chasin' Women).” Yes, country titles are sometimes more entertaining than the songs themselves. But I have fond memories of this particular song because of a story relating to it.

This version was recorded by Jimmy Dean in 1962 when I was 7 or 8 years old. I used to listen over and over again trying to learn the words so I could sing along. But there was one phrase I didn’t understand. “… them gals wear clothes that we ain’t seen beneath them gingham gowns!” When I asked my Mom to explain what those words meant she was embarrassed and initially refused to tell me. Finally I think she mentioned something about women’s underwear – that was all I cared to know. (Remember, these were the days when my Grandmother Oviatt would not utter the word “pregnant.” The proper language was to say that someone was expecting or was “PG.”)

It is funny how this song – and the memory of that story – has remained with me all these years. I’m including a link to an audio recording of the version I listened to as a child and hope you enjoy it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6Uq5VHGuPA&feature=related

Vandalism

Saturday afternoon I received a phone call informing me that someone had vandalized our church building and asking for help cleaning up. I was very surprised ... things like this just don't happen in our town. Initially I was concerned that this might have been done by someone with an axe to grind against the church for a real or perceived slight, or as a reaction to church involvement in sensitive political/social/moral issues. I even felt somewhat unsafe as I thought about how easy it would be to gain entry into the building and cause extensive damage. (Apparently our building was unlocked following an activity earlier in the day.)

When I reached the church I learned that the vandalism was carried out by a young man who apparently struggles with some psychological or emotional issues. The damage included broken glass, damaged artwork, an overturned piano, splotches of blood, and some smoke and fire residue (the fires were small paper fires and not very significant). The man also apparently drank some cleaning fluid from a custodial closet and vomited in the building. A member of our bishopric actually caught the man inside the building. Fortunately, no one was hurt (except for some cuts the man sustained) and we were able to clean up enough to hold church services the next day.

Vandalism is never okay. I am sorry this happened. And I am even more sorry that this young man (not a member of the church and with no apparent agenda directed against us) reached a point in his life where this occurred. I offered up a prayer of thanks that our building was not heavily damaged and also a prayer in behalf of this young man.

Eat, drink, and be merry ...

Mom and I started something we’ve never before done together when we began a weight loss program today. No, we weren’t selected to appear on The Biggest Loser! We joined a program offered through my employer. Not surprisingly, the very common sense approach is based on eating more nutritious and filling foods, managing portion sizes, exercising (which might not be possible for Mom, given her poor health), and ensuring that calorie intake is less than what is expended. Hopefully, by joining forces and doing this together we can help each other succeed.

There really is no magic bullet to fitness and maintaining a healthy weight. I am amazed at how high “average weight” has climbed in my lifetime. I read recently that one of the reasons for the government starting school lunch programs following World War II was because there were too many military recruits who did not meet the minimum weight requirements to serve in the armed forces. I don’t know if that story is true; if so, it is a sad commentary on our physical fitness today. I’m quite confident that our problem as a nation is not thyroid problems or slow metabolisms as much as it is poor nutrition and lack of exercise.

When I was a boy I thought that when you grew up you stopped liking candy. The reason for this is that my mother seldom ate candy and didn’t seem to like it. So I believed that when you reached adulthood some hideous transformation took place and you started liking vegetables and hating candy. When I asked my Mom about this, she said that as a child she rarely had candy … except for horehound candy, which doesn’t taste all that great. And no wonder – horehound was used to soothe sore throats. What kind of candy is also a medicine? Horehound even looks like a cough drop! http://www.ehow.com/about_5042766_horehound-candy.html

Today we are literally surrounded by unhealthy, prepared, sugar-laden food and treats. Our children were allowed candy once during the week, our “Saturday treat” tradition. This was started out of self-defense because the older children asked for candy every time we went to the store. Fortunately, we were able to convince them that Saturday treat was the eleventh commandment and they did not challenge us (until they were older).

On our new nutrition program, perhaps Mom and I will go back to Saturday treats ... but not to hourhound!

It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it

The siding is installed on the house, but the work is not completed. I am fighting a race against rain, trying to replace the dirt I removed along the foundation so the painting could be done. I dug down several inches to make sure the paint would extend below the soil line. This left a trench several inches deep all around the house ... a perfect place for water to collect and run down the foundation looking for any little crack to seep into the basement.

When I removed the soil I placed it in the garden plot, where it has been sitting for three weeks. Because we have enjoyed such dry weather, the soil has hardened. Before replacing it, I have tilled the pile of dirt several times to break down all the large clots.

I hoped the dry weather would last, but the forecast calls for rain tomorrow and perhaps again on Tuesday. Last night I provided day care for the Relief Society get together and tomorrow Brenda and I are going to Omaha, so tonight I worked until it was too dark to see. I did get the soil replaced around all three sides of the house with basement windows, which is where water has found its way into the basement previously. Hopefully this will be sufficient protection against the rain.

We've been very fortunate to enjoy such mild weather this late in the season. Last year we already had experienced snow by this time. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that when it rains the next few days the precipitation won't turn into the white stuff!

Judging a house by its cover

Yes, as a matter of fact I think we WERE overdue for new siding! In some places our old siding was as soft as a wet sponge and would literally crumble away in our hands. Clearly, we were beyong the point of repainting this siding as we did twice previously.

The old siding was VERY stained in many places. Also, you may be able to tell where the downspout was removed just above the steps the difference in the color of the paint behind the downspout and how much the rest of the house has faded over the years.

I didn't make it easy for our installers by removing the deck boards! But I wanted to be sure that the siding was installed properly and that I would not have any problems replacing deck boards once the siding is in place. Here Mike is making do with what I left him. You can see the old deck boards sitting atop the deck supports. This is NOT an OSHA approved workplace, I'm sure!

It's a wrap!

Before the new siding goes on, the house is wrapped in a reflective material that is a moisture barrier. It also provides a minimal amount of insulating factor. On the back of the siding is a thick foam layer, which provides most of the insulation and a cushion to protect the siding against damage.

After a summer with much higher than normal precipitation, we enjoyed very nice weather (except for one day when Mike and Dustin got drenched). So the reflection of the sunlight actually made wrapping the house a hot, sweaty job.

And I helped!

As you can see, Tara and I are an indispensable part of this project in that we supervise, inspect, and approve the work. My job is to stand in the back yard and tell the installers what a good job they are doing and how great the new siding looks. (And I guess my other job is to write a gigantic check when they are finished.) Tara's job is to safeguard equipment and supplies, protect against intruders, and lick to death the installers every day when they arrive and again before they depart.


















Here is a half-and-half view contrasting the new and old siding. Guess which looks better?