I’m sure you’ve heard the Christmas song “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”? Well, it was actually the “Harold Angels”. They were the best sounding choir in Heaven, and were asked to perform for all Heavenly events. Harold was an Angel, and this is his story.
When “The Plan” was announced in Heaven, Harold was overjoyed. Jesus, his favorite brother had volunteered to go to earth to save all mankind from their sins. It would be hard, it would be painful, but it would provide a way for so many of the Fathers children to make it back home. Harold was so proud of his brother and couldn’t wait to tell the whole world about him. He ran home and began writing a special song for the night of the Saviors birth. All Angels have gifts, and Harolds was music. Harold could write the sweetest songs, and had the voice of well.. of an angel. Harold had assembled a group of other Angels who were musically gifted, and formed a choir. Harold, a very good angel, but not having quite mastered the virtue of humility, named the choir “The Harold Angels”. As the Harold Angels practiced and practiced the music to be performed for the First Christmas, the Heavens around them were a flurry of excitement and preparation. Signs and wonders were placed in the heavens to show the world that the time was approaching for the new King to be born. Harold could hardly wait for the big night. On the day before Jesus was to be born, on earth, Joseph and Mary were traveling to Bethlehem, and in heaven, the Angels were coordinating visitations. Angelic visitations are very taxing for Angels, and with all the visiting that needed to be done to spread the good news, Heaven was a little shorthanded. A call went out through all of Heaven, asking for every able Angel to come assist in telling the world that a child was to be born that night. Peoples all over the world were watching for signs of his birth, and they must be given reason to believe. The Harold Angels were just finishing their final dress rehearsal for their grand chorus to celebrate the birth of the Christ Child when Harold heard of the need for Angels to do more visitations. Harold leapt at the chance to help tell the world Jesus, their brother and Savior was finally coming. Harold visited several groups of people around the world, each time instructing them to watch for the star, and proclaiming that a child was to be born in a stable. The visits were absolutely exhausting, but Harold was so proud to be a part of such a wonderful night. The time for the Christ Child to be born had almost come, and Harold was on his way to meet the choir to prepare to sing, when he was asked to make one more stop to some shepherds in a field full of sheep. It was all Harold could do to get himself to the field to tell the Shepherds to make their way to the stable to see the new King. As they left, Harold had to pause and rest. “I can close my eyes for just a moment, and still make the concert”, he thought to himself, and with an angelic sigh, he was out. Baaaa’ Baaaa’. Harold woke with a start. “I’ve missed it.”, he informed the rather shaggy sheep staring at him. “I’ve let my choir down, I’ve let my brother down, I’ve let my Father down”. Harold was devastated. He had worked so hard, and done so much to prepare for the birth of his savior, and he slept through the whole thing. Harold took his time going back to Heaven. He dreaded facing the Father, and telling him he had slept through the first Christmas. As Harold drew closer to Heaven, he heard something familiar.. He heard his music. All of heaven was singing the song Harold had written for the Christ Child. Other Angels stopped to tell Harold how much they loved the music, and how wonderful the Harold Angels sounded the night before outside the Stable. Harold was happy that everyone like the song, but it made it even more painful that he didn’t sing for the baby Jesus and his family. As Harold was immersed in his misery, a messenger Angel appeared and told him The Father wanted to see him. With head hung low, Harold went before the Father. “What is the matter my son?” asked the Father. Harold broke down. “I’ve let you down!” He cried, “you sent Jesus to save the world, and I couldn’t even stay awake long enough to sing for him. I’m not fit to be an angel, and I’m not fit to be your son.” With love in his eyes, and without saying a word, the Father embraced Harold. Harold was enveloped in warmth. His pain and his shame were replaced with a sense of how much his Father cared for him. When the Father let go, Harold smiled and wiped his tears. As Harold left the presence of the Father, he was determined to share the love he felt with the whole world. He would continue proclaiming glad tidings of great joy to all people. He would shout from the tree tops.
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Thoughts on Columbus Day Parents It’s amazing we live through being parented. I did sit in a car seat as a child. I cried every time they tried to put me in one, so my mother held me everywhere we went. When I was a little older, I was allowed to sit in the front seat of the car, I refused to sit in the back. They left me in the car when they ran into the store to quickly grab an item they needed, and they spanked me when I deliberately disobeyed them. I can’t believe I survived to write this today. If the above summery was your only insight into my childhood, you may have the impression that I was abused by neglectful terrible people. You may feel inspired to turn to social media to voice your rage for the injustices suffered at their hand. Perhaps Mothers Day and Fathers day should be renamed to Victimized Childs Awareness Day. I grew up in the 80’s Car seats weren’t pushed hard in the 80’s, and most laws didn’t require them the way they do now. Cars didn’t have passenger side airbags, and studies hadn’t really driven home the danger of children riding in the front seat, also, I got car sick easily, and puke is no fun to clean up in the back seat of a Ford Crown Victoria. I was a little punk, and they only spanked me when I had pushed to the limit in direct defiance, or created an unsafe situation for me or my brothers, and they didn’t spank hard. My parents have been my greatest champions. They have supported me through my triumphs and tragedies. They have shown forgiveness and compassion, and have provided me the opportunities to become the person I am today. I will forever be in their debt, and will always be grateful for the sacrifices they made to give me and my brothers such wonderful lives. It would be terribly unfair to judge my parents parenting by todays parenting standards, and I pray I’m not judged for my parenting today by the next generations additional knowledge, growth and progression. I hope my children survive my parenting. In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue Tomorrow, October 9th, is the day our nation celebrates the discovery of the “New World” with credit given to Christopher Columbus. Columbus was rather bold in his day. Believing the earth to be round, he thought to find a new route the Indies increasing profit in trading spices. Instead, he smacked into the Americas and set in motion a chain of events that would lead to the birth of nations, deaths of peoples, and new ways of life and philosophies. There are those who say Columbus wasn’t a very kind person, but his bravery, determination and vision have impacted the lives of just about everyone on the planet. A New World As people came to the Americas looking to carve a life for themselves, a culture began to form. A culture based on ingenuity, freedom, and opportunity. There were conflicts with Native Americans, and atrocities were committed on both sides. History is full of peoples expanding borders, taking over kingdoms, and building empires. Humans by nature are industrious, and continuously seek to grow, expand, and improve. Conflicts arise, and there is unfortunate loss on both sides. Each generation would seem to grow in sophistication and enlightenment. A New Nation The American colonies declared independence in 1776, stating that all men are endowed by their creator with inalienable rights. The rights of the individual would trump the dictates of the Crown. After much bloodshed, independence was won, and a new nation with a new government was born. Imperfect men The men responsible for the founding of the United States of America came from diverse and often times conflicting backgrounds. Some were religious, some atheist. Some had slaves, others opposed slavery. Some wanted strong government, some wanted weak government. Some wanted a King, some wanted a President. Some were devoted husbands and fathers, others had mistresses and illegitimate children. This group of men from various backgrounds, and philosophies were able to come together and compromise, discuss, and negotiate a form of government designed to protect all men. More War Unfortunately, being imperfect, and lacking the enlightenment we have today, those in power did not always act in the best interest of all men. Slavery was allowed to continue, as did war with indigenous peoples. People were tragically mistreated because of their race, and perceived inferiority. A civil war was fought in the name of freeing the slaves, and the Native Americans were massacred, and driven from place to place until finally pushed into undesirable lands, todays reservations. Other minorities have suffered because of the ignorance and intolerance of others. The Flip Side This New World for all its faults and flaws truly is a land of opportunity. It was in America that the cotton gin was invented, leading to the industrial revolution. Electricity was discovered and harnessed in America. The telephone, television, computer, and countless other technologies were developed in America. There is more religious freedom in America. America is the country that immigrants from all other nations come to in hopes of creating better lives and futures for their families. There are countries today where a person can still be stoned for being a homosexual. Only recently a young man in Iran was convicted of committing rape. His sentence was to have his young sister raped. An innocent girl was brutally punished by her country for her brothers’ horrendous action. People risk their lives to come to America. Hindsight is 20/20 It’s easy to judge the characters of the past by today’s standards. Just as I could focus on what could be seen as flaws in my parents methods of parenting compared to how children are raised today, I see people judging those responsible for the founding of our country by today’s standards and values. I contend that our Heavenly Father uses imperfect men to accomplish his work. Men who do the best they can with the knowledge they have. The idea of removing monuments to those who paved the way for us to live the lives we do, or to ignore holidays that celebrate pivotal moments in history that still impact the world pains me. We cannot know who we are unless we know where we come from. Our forefathers worked miracles, and blessed the lives of millions of people. Our forefathers were also imperfect men, and there were many people who fell victim to those who abused their power. I’m grateful for the light and knowledge we have today. I’m grateful that people are treated better and we are making progress in protecting those who cannot protect themselves. I’m also grateful for those early souls who paved the way through blood and sacrifice to give us a country where we can protect the people who are unable to protect themselves. And finally, I’m grateful for Columbus. A man who understood that the best way to make money selling spices was to cut shipping costs. He had an idea, went to work, and here we are. Preface
On occasion, I see things that bring out the absurd in me. One such thing is a fundraising attempt in a little town called Franklin, Id. They have built a large tower out of stacked boxes, and placed them in an old pickup truck. Many people are puzzled by its presence, and as a former councilman of that town I have heard my fair share of comments, questions, and concerns. The tower has perished due to weather conditions multiple times, and is always rebuilt. These heavenly acts causing the demise of this tower have inspired me to create a “prophecy” about the box. This is written Tongue in Cheek in scripture form as a newly discovered lost book, written by Moroni, and ancient prophet in the Book of Mormon. If you are not familiar with the Book of Mormon, please let me know and I would be happy to get you a copy and answer any questions. The book will change your life and bring you closer to God. The Second Book of Moroni A record of the prophecies of Moroni after he had hid up the gold plates in the Hill Cummorah. Having grown bored with wandering the wilderness alone, Moroni did record his less relevant prophecies upon plates of aluminum. These plates, discovered in the indian cave on Little Mountain in Franklin were translated and abridged by a former councilman of Franklin City, whose humility prevents him being named in this record. Chapter 1. Moroni is bored with wandering in the wilderness, and, having not been destroyed yet, entertains himself by offering prophesies of the future inhabitants of the land in which he hides. 1. And now behold, I Moroni, having hid up the records for which my people have been destroyed and made to be extinct, and having made an end of writing concerning the history of my people, I do see fit to write a little more. 2. Behold I wish to write more, not for the convincing of the Jew and Gentile, but by way of passing time, of which I have an abundance. Behold, I would write somewhat of the things to come concerning the people who would inhabit the land in which I spend my days. 3. And it shall come to pass that after one thousand eight hundred and sixty years since the coming of our Lord shall have passed away, as town shall be raised up by those like unto my people, who have fled wickedness, and sought to raise up a town unto righteousness. And they did prosper for the space of one hundred and fifty seven years. 4. And in the one hundred and fifty seventh year, behold the people did rebel against their rulers. And they did command that a new ruler be appointed, and she did go after the vain traditions of the world, seeking to create great structures of pride. And she did incite the people insomuch that she did ask of them to give of their substance that she might make great structures of vanity, the like of which I have not hither to for seen. 5. And it came to pass that she did order constructed by her servants a great tower. And it’s workmanship was exceeding shaky. And this tower she did place in a fire driven chariot to be shown to all who entered into the city. 6. And when the Heavens did look upon this exceedingly prideful work, they did sorrow. And the Angels did cause an rain to fall upon the tower insomuch that it did crumble from the chariot upon which it was affixed. 7. And when the ruler of the city did look upon her tower and did behold that it was smitten, her wrath was kindled against the heavens. Yea, her wrath was kindled insomuch that she did again cause her servants to again construct a tower, and to reinforce it against the rain, insomuch that it was tight like unto a dish. 8. And it came to pass that when the angles did behold the tower that was constructed, and that it was tight like unto a dish, they did again smite the tower. And the Angles did smite the tower with a mighty wind, insomuch that it did fall unto the earth. 9. And after the wind did smite the tower unto the earth, behold, there were many who did rejoice for they did see the wickedness of the tower, and that it was a grievous sin upon the people. 10. And the people did implore their ruler to no more seek to offend the heavens in her pride. 11. And it ca… (This is how the tablet ended, and it is the translators opinion that it was at this very moment that Moroni was taken up into heaven, to be relieved of the boredom of his lonely condition) It’s been awhile since I’ve offered any of my random thoughts. I’m pleased to say that the reason for my lack of publishing is due to the chaos of moving into a new residence. A new residence that will allow me to better serve my customers, and offer my family and myself a much more comfortable living situation. The good news is I’m back in business with my leather work and holsters, the bad news is, I’m sitting alone in a hotel room in Salt Lake City for another Gun Show. As I think of the good fortunes I’ve been blessed with recently, along with a few random misfortunes, I feel the need to share a few thoughts. These thoughts are my own, take them for what they are.. personal observations that are meaningful to me. Faith and work. The bible tells us that faith without work is dead, being alone. So also is work without faith. Faith and work are inseparably tied together. Apart from the spiritual applications of this teaching, in our everyday life, we would not work if we did not have faith that our employer or patrons would reward us for our work. We also do not expect rewards without needing to work for them, unless you are a millennial.. then you can continue to feel like the world owes you everything.. Snowflake. Just kidding, I know that there are hardworking millennials out there. My work is an exercise in faith. As a leather worker, and as a musician, I rely on faith. I have faith that if I work hard, my product will be recognized, and a demand created. If I am the best holster designer I can be, I will be rewarded for that work with customers who appreciate my work. If I’m the best musician I can be, I can connect with my audience, creating more business as other people want me to perform at their events. Without this investment of work, and exercise of faith, I would not see the financial blessings I seek. Hence, being cooped up all alone in a hotel room in Salt Lake City is an act of faith, and work, with the hope of bringing financial blessings. Prayer Paper Clips and Treasure Boxes. Conner (my 5-yr. old son) has developed the good habit of saying his prayers before he goes to bed. Every night, he prays that he will be nice, sleep good, and not have any bad dreams. It’s quite touching to hear him talk to his Heavenly Father. Last night, I had to play music at a private event. I got home late, and was in a hurry to pack up for the gun show. My body hurt, I was tired, and just wanted to relax. When I walked into the house, I was greeted by Connor wearing nothing but his underwear, holding his little treasure box. He had padlocked the key inside the box, and was desperate to get it opened. Connor asked me to try to pick the lock. I didn’t have anything but a screw driver and a nail to use, and I gave a half-hearted attempt at the lock, and proceeded to try to get Connor to go to bed. I told him I needed a small paperclip to be able to fashion a pick to open the lock. After threats of discipline and much negotiating, I got him to brush his teeth, and go to his bed. As he knelt to pray, he thanked Heavenly Father that he had a good day, and prayed that his treasure box could be opened. I smiled to myself, gave him a hug goodnight, and left him to sleep so I could take a much-needed shower. As I cleared my pants pockets of my wallet, pocket knife, and loose change, I felt something in the bottom of my pocket… a small paperclip. I didn’t remember ever picking up a paperclip, but there it was. I took the paperclip, and fashioned a pick with some pliers. In less than a minute I had the lock open. Connor was fast asleep, but I set the opened box by his pillow on his bed, where much to his delight he found it this morning. Does God Care? One might ask if God really does care about us and our day to day trivial problems. I submit that he does. If a five year old’s prayer to open a silly little box can be answered so quickly and specifically, it stands to reason that the prayers of a thirty five year old worn out father would be important to our Heavenly Father as well. Sippy Cups I’m not a very patient person. When I set my mind to something, I expect to have it right away. The thing I struggle with the most with Faith is waiting. While Connors prayer was answered very quickly (I believe mostly to teach me a lesson), often times, our prayers aren’t answered as specifically, or in the timeframe we desire. This waiting is when faith becomes key. It wouldn’t require faith to ask for things and have them plopped squarely in our lap. As people, we wouldn’t grow if we weren’t required to stretch at times. Owen (our 2 yr-old.) will sometimes shout to us that he wants milk. If we are in the middle of something, we’ll try to stall him and say, “just a minute bud”. He will then demand milk again. Again we say, “in a minute”. Owen sometimes struggles with his faith. He knows we love him. He knows we won’t let him starve to death, and that we will protect him from harm. He knows that we will provide for him.. that’s why he is asking us for milk in the first place. But, Owen expects to receive his answer immediately. As parents, sometimes we get his milk right away. Sometimes he must wait a few minutes, and sometimes, the answer is no. He’s drank enough milk for the day, and he needs to drink some water. As parents, we know what’s best for him. We hear his requests, and we answer them in a way that we feel is serving him best. Sometimes, I think we are a lot like Owen. We have an idea of what we want or need, and keep asking for it repeatedly, while our Heavenly Father says, “just a minute”, or “no, it’s time for something else”. I know God loves us, and that he will take care of us, and provide for us, but sometimes I start to expect to receive what I want when I want it. Every good parent knows that instant gratification isn’t always the healthiest thing for the child. Look Around Us Faith is something to be developed. It might take me the rest of my life to develop the child like blind faith that Connor showed last night when praying for his treasure box, but I know that step by step, I can grow my faith. Faith is grown every time we take a moment to look back with gratitude for blessings we have received. Faith is grown when we recognize the hand of our Heavenly Father in our day to day lives, and faith is grown when we ask our Heavenly Father for blessings, and accept the as they come, however they come, with gratitude. I have a very firm belief in our Heavenly Father. I believe that he loves us, loves YOU, and wants us all to be happy. I have a long way to go in developing my faith, and for now, if I need any major blessings, I think I’ll have Connor do the negotiating. I love Chinese Food. I tend to eat way too much of it, and I shall probably continue to do so. One of the things I’ve noticed in the various Chinese restaurants I’ve patronized over the years is that many of them have a fish tank on display. The fish offer a happy distraction for customers waiting to be seated. One afternoon, my Dad called asking if I would like to go to lunch. I suggested Wok on Wheels, a great little Chinese Restaurant a few blocks from where I work. We enjoyed our meal and were walking past the fish tank, something caught my eye. At the bottom of the aquarium, under a rock was a yellow fish lying on its side. Below the fish taped to the tank was a note saying “Fish not stuck or dead”. I found the note comical, had a good laugh, and forgot about the eccentric fish. Yesterday, I happened to go into the same restaurant for lunch. I noticed the same yellow fish in the same odd position under the rock. I mentioned to the girl working the counter that they had a funny fish. She told me that the fish always stays there. I joked he must be a depressed fish. The girl then told me that the other fish would attack the yellow fish, and its fins were tattered and damaged. The fish wasn’t eccentric after all. It was bullied. I hate bullies. I hate them with a passion. I still have vivid memories of being terrorized on the bus by a boy who was a year older than I was in elementary school. I was called names, hit, spit upon, and pushed to the point of considering violent action. I have very little sympathy for whatever hardships may or may not influence a bully to behave the way they do. I cannot abide a bully. However, I am ashamed to admit that I even acted as a bully to a couple of kids in my school that were lower on the totem pole than I was. I am haunted by the unkind things I said in the name of getting a laugh from the classmates whose approval I craved. Adults can be bullies. As a kid, I always was under the impression that adults behave like adults. Becoming an adult has altered my childhood impression. I’ve seen grown-up bullies in action. I’ve seen good people pushed out of their church congregation and town because of toxic bullying. I've seen "Mommy Shaming", I’ve seen people who I held in high regard devolve into school yard bullies, spreading lies and socially beating down people who should be their friends and neighbors. Like the aggressive fish in the tank, bullies pick at the victim piece by piece, forcing them into reclusion and retreat. Bullies can change. One of the great things about being human is the ability to change. We all have the daily opportunity to better ourselves. To right wrongs, and to resolve to make improvements. In the years since being bullied, I've become friends with some of very people who mistreated me. I've seen first hand how forgiveness and kindness can bridge the gap of past wrongs to create a bond of friendship. As we do good for others, we create a sense of self worth. That self worth in turn helps us see the worth in those around us, and seek to reinforce it in others. Instead of raising ourselves up by stepping on those deemed weaker, we are raised even higher as we raise those around us. I’ve seen Heroes. I’ve seen kids who would be considered “cool” jump to the defense of other kids being victimized by bullies. I’ve seen great kindness and love shown by members of our community to other citizens who are at time marginalized. I wish to share something that our four year old son did a couple of weeks ago. I don’t share this to brag, heaven knows we are probably dreadful parents. Sometimes, we have moments that give us hope for how the future will turn out, and our kids surprise us. The following is a text we received from Connors day care\preschool teacher: “I have to tell you how good Connor is being today! We have a new little girl who is almost 3 years old, the other kids are trying to get used to her, and I’m trying to encourage them to include her in their play. Connor took it upon himself to make her a “hut” like the rest of the kids and told her she could play too. He’s telling the other kids “it’s ok, she can play too”. He’s being so sweet with her and so helpful.” My little son is my hero, and teaches me daily. I only hope he can carry the attitude of inclusiveness his whole life. We are all fish. Our world is very much like the aquarium in a Chinese restaurant. People come in all colors, sizes, styles, and abilities. It’s this diversity that makes life so enjoyable. Like fish, not all people and personalities get along well when kept in a confined space. Thankfully, people, unlike fish, have much more developed brains, and are able to make cognitive choices about how to treat the people around them. I hope we can treat everybody kindly. And when we see those poor individuals who have had their fins bitten off and beat down by bullies, lets pull them out from under their rock and encourage them in the immortal words of Dorie, to “just keep swimming”. Valentine’s day. A day dedicated to holding our wallets hostage. A day in which all humans are obligated to prove their love for their respective amorous partners by purchasing various heart shaped merchandise, flower/weed arrangements, expensive dinners, and greeting cards. The American people are preyed upon by candy companies, card companies, florists, and anybody else who professes to have the perfect item to assert your love for the individual you care about the most. Valentine’s Day was a source of anxiety in my youth. In Elementary School, we were expected to make little mail boxes to receive our valentines. Each child would bring enough valentines for the whole class, and everybody felt so profoundly loved from compelled expressions of affection. The most exciting Valentine I received during these exercises in all-inclusive caring was signed “From: Your Secret Admirer”. Well, it turns out that one of the boys in the class, Noe, secretly admired everybody in our class. It was a pretty awesome move on his part. As I grew older and matured, Valentine’s Day did not become more appealing. I was rarely dating anybody when the holiday came around, and it was a stark reminder of my inability to find a significant other to whom I was willing to whole-heartedly commit to for the remainder of my days, and through eternity. Seven years ago, I met my wife. I have mentioned in past publications that I met my wife a little later in my life than I had planned. I was 29 years old when we married. Marrying Natalie completed and tempered me. My friends will attest that I am indeed a different person than I was before I settled down. I’m kinder, more understanding, more responsible, and far more content. I regret that our life is a busy one. The need to provide for two kids dictates that we take every opportunity to work and save money, making it sometimes difficult to go on the date nights that we would like. When we do get the time to spend alone together, I treasure these moments. For me, Valentine’s Day isn’t about hollow expressions of love delivered in the form of a heart shaped candy box. It is a reminder that things do work out, even when you don’t expect them to. It’s a reminder that everybody is lovable. Sometimes it is difficult to share our feelings with those who mean the most to us. Valentine’s Day is the one-day a year that gives those of us who have a little bit harder time expressing themselves the opportunity to say I love you. Now, please excuse me while I try to find a card and some heart shaped chocolates! Lately, I feel like I’m on the brink of a midlife crisis. I was recently turned down for an appearance in a television commercial because they wanted somebody who looked younger. Last week I was fitted for glasses because my eyes aren’t focusing like they used to. My hair color is now described as “salt and pepper”, but more salt than pepper. I’ll be thirty-five years old next month, but last week I was offered a rare look back at what it was like to be young again. For a brief moment, I was able to feel like a seventeen-year-old high school student again. I had the privilege of calling my Dad to tell him I wrecked his truck. The first time I made the dreaded “I crashed” call was during the summer after my junior year in High School. I was taking a load to the dump. I looked down at the stick shift to change gears and looked up to see that the truck and trailer in front of me was stopped. I hit them. Thankfully nobody was hurt, and no serious damage was done. I called my Dad hoping he would choose at least a humane method of execution for me. He calmly asked if I was ok, drove out to pick me up, and told me about one of the time he was in a car crash. We got the truck fixed, and nothing was ever said again. Last week, I needed to borrow my Dad’s truck and trailer to pick up some new furniture. Our couch was the worst couch on this planet, and we were finally getting some chairs to replace it. My parents live up a canyon, and as one can imagine, the road can be quite slick during the winter months. The truck is a four-wheel drive, and I wasn’t especially concerned as I had driven the road countless times. As I approached a curve in the road at the mouth of the canyon, the truck lost traction. In what can only be described as high-speed slow motion, the trailer jack-knifed, slammed into the driver’s side of the truck bed, and I was stuck in a snow bank. Again, much like when I was a junior in high school, I called my Dad to let him know I had crashed his truck. Again, without judgment, he came down in a tractor, pulled me out, assured me that everything was ok, determined that the truck, while banged up, was still drivable, and helped me pick up our furniture. My Mom went so far as to thank me for wrecking the truck because she wanted a pre-existing dent repaired on the truck bed. My parents are incredible people. Parents are our parents forever. Christians are under commandment to “Honor thy Father and thy Mother that thy Days may be long upon the land.”. As a kid, I always thought that the commandment meant I needed to obey, or my parents would end my days upon the land. While there is probably some validity to this interpretation, I have seen its meaning broaden as my perspective broadens with age and experience. Our parents deserve our respect. They fed us, clothed us, wiped our dirty little bottoms and sacrificed for us. No parent is perfect, and some make more mistakes than others. Even the worst parents are credited with at least giving life. I have yet to see an individual who has seen eye-to-eye with their parents all the time and, conversely, I have yet to see a parent who has not rolled their eyes at some of the ideas embraced by their offspring. As children become adults and form their own world view, it is natural and healthy to see conflicts in ideas and philosophy. If a mutual respect and love are expressed during periods of disagreement, there can be honor while maintaining individualism. Marriage adds a new dynamic as spouses develop relationships with new parents. As two households come together, and two unique backgrounds and upbringings try to become one, oftentimes conflicts with a spouses’ parents arise. We can be quick to judge the people who raised the person we love, failing to recognize that they are the very people who shaped our spouse into the person we love. In my own experience, I come from a very different background than my wife. My in-laws are wonderful people who have played an incredible role in helping to raise our boys. I’ve seen the sacrifices they make for their family and have been profoundly impressed by their ability to face challenges that would break people with less resilience. We happen to embrace different political ideologies, but I do not question their good intentions, or their ability to love and care for their family. Conversations about our differing views have been healthy, respectful, and enlightening. I’m a better person for having my wife’s wonderful parents in my life. Parenting is a bugger. Nobody tells you how hard parenting is. There is no disclaimer before you get pregnant. There are no advisory stickers attached to children at birth. The Navy Seals go through what is affectionately referred to “Hell Week”. They are sleep-deprived, left to sit in cold water, verbally abused, berated, and pushed to their psychological and physical limits. Hell Week is only for a week. They know what is coming and can prepare for it. Some of them will drop out, some will succeed, and some will excel. I have a profound respect for our military and the great sacrifices that they make to keep us safe. Parenting is like Hell Week on steroids. Parents are sleep-deprived, hormonally ravaged, excreted on, psychologically abused, mommy shamed, second guessed, and underappreciated. That’s just while the kids are small! When the kids get bigger, we add the destruction of property, extortion, and hostage negotiation situations. No Greater Cause. I was a selfish jerk of an adolescent. My adolescence lasted into my late twenties. I talked a saint into marrying me. The moment we decided to get married, Natalie asked me if we could start a family right away. Deliriously happy that she had agreed to marry me, I said I would love to start a family. My wife and I learned that we were expecting our first child within weeks of our wedding. Life changed quickly and drastically. We were up all night when Connor was born. He came several weeks early. The labor was grueling, and when he was born, the nurses whisked him away to put him on a C-pap machine and get him secure in the NICU. As I looked at him with an IV in his head and the C-Pap blowing air into his little nose, I felt so helpless but willing to do whatever was necessary to protect the little guy that Heaven had entrusted to me. The birth of Owen was no less impactful. Our lives changed the moment we became parents. We’ve been peed on, spit up on, back talked to, disobeyed, hugged, greeted with happy little cheers, been told we’re loved, and had stick figure birthday cards given to us. I’m so grateful to have a wife who is a good mom. I’m grateful that she has parents who are a good example. I'm a parent. It’s the greatest, hardest thing I’ve ever done, and it makes me love my parents all the more for it. When one of our kids inevitably makes the phone call informing me that they have crashed my car, I plan to make sure he’s ok, and proceed to tell him about the time I crashed Grandpa’s truck. Politics is fun!
The art of social manipulation to advance a personal, or groups agenda for ones perceived benefit of society can be fulfilling, rewarding, agonizing, infuriating, dividing, and uniting. I've had the honor of serving on my community’s City Council for just over three years. I've seen the very best and worst of government action, and civic involvement. I've been impressed with the strength of character shown by so many good people who try to serve their neighbors. During my limited experience in government, I have also seen how silly the bureaucracy can be. Laws to fix laws to fix laws make us question the sanity of those we elect to serve. It can be laughable. This winter has been rough, the natives grow restless... We have had record breaking snowfall, rain, and low temperatures. Our city employees have worked tirelessly trying to keep our roads safe and clear of snow. Unfortunately, there are always those in the community who don't recognize the best efforts of a small town, and make complaints about the elements. I firmly believe that a lot of the less than practical legislation that is inflicted upon us is a direct result of the efforts of our elected officials trying to appease the excessively vocal and less reasonable citizens. It is in this spirit of this sort of laughable knee jerk governance that I present to you the following piece of legislation for your enjoyment. Perhaps I have too much time on my hands, but here it is, my first crack at writing law. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Winter Mosquito Abatement Act Whereas the world health organization has identified mosquitos as a known vector for numerous diseases including but not limited to West Nile, Malaria, HIV, Herpes, H1N1, Chlamydia, Common Cold, Alzheimer’s, and general itchiness; It is determined that for the general welfare of the citizens of Franklin, it is incumbent on the City of Franklin to take aggressive measure in controlling the mosquito population. On recommendation of EPA and DEQ, interruption of breeding habits of mosquitos by removing their fornication location has been proven to be the safest method of Mosquito Control, as chemical controls have been shown to create mass hysteria, and general unreasonable-ness of citizens. The following control method has been proposed and adopted by the Franklin City Council. The removal of all standing water in the city of Franklin. It has been resolved that the removal of standing water in the city during the winter will improve the general health and welfare of the citizens of Franklin City by removing the risk of winter time mosquito bites. Other positive consequences of the Winter Mosquito Abatement Act will be residents no longer experiencing wet shoes, flooding, or puddles in the winter time. Definitions. For the purposes of this legislation, Precipitation with refer to any moisture coming from the sky. Eg: Snow, rain, hail, dense fog, excessive humidity, Sweat, Spit, Sleet, Oil and Antifreeze leaks, condensation, and spilled beverages. Section 1. City Responsibility’s In the event of precipitation, the City will be responsible for insuring that precipitation does not accumulate. A. City resources will be utilized without stopping until all precipitation is removed B. City Employees will not be allowed bathroom breaks, lunches, smoking breaks, or allowed to go home until all precipitation is removed from the City of Franklin. C. Dismemberment in removal implements is not an approved reason to discontinue the removal of Precipitation. Section 2. Acts of GOD In the event of the accumulation of precipitation due to Natural Acts of God, or Global Warming, the City is obligated to respond to all concerned citizens calls and complaints simultaneously, removing any accumulated precipitation instantaneously. In the event a citizen reports having precipitation accumulated enough to show moisture on the bottom of the citizens shoes, a call is to be placed immediately to the City Administrator with a demand that the existing water be removed. Section 3. Penalties Enforcement of the WMAA will be the responsibility of the Citizens. The city will select the most vocal of our citizens and give them authority to enforce WMAA. A. Failure to report precipitation within five minutes of occurrence will be a felony. B. Failure to instantly remove precipitation on the part of City Employees will be a felony. C. Failure to read citizens minds in their anticipated needs for removal of precipitation will constitute a felony. D. Failure to keep Councilman Woods driveway clear will be a felony. Section 3. Funding Because the public has made known their concerns for standing water, mosquito issues, and precipitation removal, the city had determined that the public will be fiscally responsible for funding the WMAA. From the months of November to June, there will be a WMAA household charge of $1000.00. Those who own rental properties and trailer courts will be charged $1000.00 per unit per month. -------------------------------------------------------------- And for my next trick, I'll be presenting Healthcare Reform! Do you believe in Santa? My son Connor does. He believes in him with all of his little 4-year-old heart. He met him, and Santa knew his name. Christmas time is awesome with little kids. All of the holiday movies that I’ve seen a zillion times are suddenly new and exciting as we show them to the kids. They look wide eyed at the Christmas Decorations, and lights everywhere we go. When we ask them what they want from Santa, Owen, the 2yr old says “pre-ents”(presents). He still refuses to give specifics. And Connor is hoping for tape. Yeah.. like masking tape. He goes through tape like there’s no tomorrow. He can tape up an entire house in thirty seconds flat. He needs more tape. In the spirit of Christmas and fostering creativity, we’ll be giving him the resources to creatively destroy our house. Natalie is our Christmas coordinator. She has a gift for giving gifts. It’s uncanny how she can just know what a person might want or need. She has a list of presents for the boys, and was checking twice last night. Our walk in closet is starting to look an Amazon.com receiving warehouse. We took the boys to the North Pole last weekend. Seriously. We went to the North Pole. In Heber, UT there is a historic railroad. During the Christmas season, they do the North Pole Express. Children and parents pile into the century old passenger cars and are taken to the North Pole to pick up Santa. As we pulled up to the train station, Connor could hardly contain himself. We got out of the car, and he dragged me by the hand up to the ticket office, and onto the train. As we drank hot chocolate and sang Christmas songs with the other passengers on the forty-minute ride, Connor kept asking where Santa was. Finally, the train stopped. We had arrived at Santa’s workshop in the North Pole. We could see Santa waiving at us through the window, and waited for him to board the train. We waited for what seemed to Connor to be hours, when we saw him coming to our car. PURE JOY Connor could hardly contain himself as Santa came up to him, gave him a jingle bell (like in the Polar Express), and knew his name. (every passenger was wearing a name tag, a brilliant move) Santa was impressed that Connor wanted tape for Christmas and praised him for his creativity. I don’t think it would have been possible to wipe the smile from Connors face. Owen, however did not trust Santa, and kept his distance as any self-respecting two-year-old would. The whole ride home, Connor kept telling us that that was the best night ever, and that he loved us. As a father, seeing my kid that ecstatically happy was one of the greatest feelings I’ve experienced. As I think of another Fathers loving gift on the first Christmas two thousand years ago, I wonder if we could show him the same excitement, love and wonder that Connor showed us. I could never give up one of my children to watch him suffer, but somehow our Father in Heaven was able to do just that. His gift of infinite love truly is something to celebrate. The Savior is real. He was born to save our world. Let us welcome him with open arms and hearts this Christmas season. Santa is real too… her name is Natalie, and I love her very much. It was the second year since the great Girl Wars. Peace had been restored to recess. As a class, we had grown up. We had matured greatly. We were in 6th Grade, and Mr. Bean was our teacher. Mr. Bean was our 5th grade teacher as well. He was the only teacher who wanted to “deal with us”.
Our class had a reputation, a label if you will. We were the difficult kids. The trouble makers. We didn’t ALL wear red on spirit day, and accusations of irresponsible behavior had been leveled against us by much of the faculty. Our feelings were hurt. We didn’t deserve the label. We were good kids. Mr. Bean knew we were good kids and treated us kindly. Our feelings about our label came up often in class. One day, Mr. Bean announced that we would be having a class meeting after lunch. We were all curious. When the bell to return to class rang, we all filed into the classroom to find the desks pushed to the edges of the room and a circle of chairs in the center. We were asked to sit, and our attention was directed to the chalkboard. D.P.M. Mr. Bean explained that he had thought about our problem with being mislabeled. He had decided on a new class motto. “Don’t Perpetuate the Myth” He taught a group of disgruntled sixth graders what perpetuate and myth meant. He went on to explain that we might not be able to always control what other people think, but we CAN control how we act. If we know that there is a misconception about us, we can act in a way to correct the perception, thereby killing the myth. That simple discussion changed the course of the school year. The class united together. We ALL wore red on spirit day, we were kinder to each other, and we were happier. Mr. Bean taught a lesson that day that has impacted my life and the lives of my classmates in a very large way. If you voted for Trump, you’re a misogynistic, racist, homophobic, redneck bigot. If you voted for Hillary, you’re a pinko commie baby killer who delights in the murder of police officers. Anybody who likes lima beans is a drug addict, because really… anybody who is eating lima beans must be on drugs. Everybody at some time in their life has felt misunderstood, misrepresented or mislabeled. I dare say that almost all of us at some time in our lives has done the misunderstanding, misrepresenting or mislabeling. We love heroes. Heroes can’t be heroes without a contrasting villain. As we try to process our thoughts and feelings, and reconcile them with the thoughts and feelings of others, it is sometimes easy to villainize those holding an opposing viewpoint. As we spend time with like-minded individuals, our own opinions are fortified, while the villainization of those who oppose our point of view is amplified. As this process continues, irrational fears and prejudices develop and become deep-seated. Myths form. Every group of people has its stereotype. Without those delightful individuals who embody stereotypes, we would have nobody left to make politically incorrect jokes about. Several well-known comedians have made careers on humorous observations of one stereotype. The Redneck. Jeff Foxworthy would run out of material if the minority of “Rednecks” would stop and contemplate whether their activity perpetuates the stereotype so unfairly bestowed upon them. Sadly, all too often, Bubba mows his lawn, and as observed by Mr. Foxworthy, finds a car. While we enjoy laughing at exaggerated antecdotes of well-meaning, less-educated rural Americans, there are other stereotypes that are less humorous and oftentimes dangerous. Sadly, these stereotypes continue to be perpetuated by the minority of each population, tainting the image of the people they represent. Lima beans. I’m a lima beans-ist. If I accidentally purchase mixed vegetables with lima beans, I will go out of my way to pick them out and not eat them. I loathe them. I have always felt that you would have to be on drugs to be able to eat lima beans. Over the years, I have come to know a few people who eat lima beans, and I can firmly attest that they are not drug addicts. They just happen to embrace a culinary philosophy with which I vehemently disagree. Because my friends did not perpetuate my myth of being lima bean consuming drug addicts, I’ve come to understand their food preferences. I can eat a dinner with them while they enjoy lima beans, and I enjoy asparagus, and neither of us feels threatened. This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the lesson taught 23 years ago by Mr. Bean. As I see those I love disagree with me, and I with them, I hope that they can see that I’m still a good person for not loving lima beans, and I’ll try to be understanding as I pass the pumpkin pie. |
Bryce lives in Franklin with his Wife and two Kids. He is an avid shooter, gun collector, leather worker and fisherman.
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