Birthday Lunches --

I don’t remember when it started, I’m sure it was my wife’s idea. But when each of our elementary school kids had a birthday I would take them out of school and go to lunch. This was one of their favorite things, not only did they get to chose whatever kind of food they wanted but they also got to miss a little school. When they went into the sixth grade and entered middle school it became a little harder so that’s when it ended. That was Ok since I always had another child to take their place.

Where we ate was their idea – and after a few suggestions they would make the final decision. This was a pretty safe assignment since they always chose between a couple of alternatives. Usually it boiled down to only two different places – a Chinese restaurant or a local pizza joint. They both have a luncheon special that included more food then they would want to eat, which made it so I got a little extra. This all changed last month when our youngest daughter had her eleventh birthday. Next year she is going to middle school and I’m going to have to go to lunch by myself. So this was going to be my last hurrah – like had happened many times before she chose the pizza place.

Now that she’s a little older she figured out you could skip the salad and get two pieces of garlic bread instead. No extra food for me, oh well it’s not like I needed it. This place has become a birthday favorite; I’ve gone there with all of the kids at least once. But this time something happened that had never happened before. As we were finishing up our dinner an elderly couple approached us, the man addressed my daughter and said “ Isn’t it great that your grandfather is taking you out to lunch.” She turned and looked at me with that look – what am I supposed to say? I said, “Yes it’s her birthday.” After they left I explained that there was no reason to make them feel bad – even if they already made me feel bad. Like I’ve said in a number of my stories, I look a little older than I am. Now if I look ten years older than I am and our oldest child is twenty-five. I guess it’s completely possible that I could have an eleven-year-old grandchild. I’ve had things like this happen so many times that it really doesn’t bother me.

It did get me to start thinking a bit; maybe if I live old enough I could continue this tradition when I do have grandchildren in school. That would be pretty cool, of course there’s a couple of possible problems. One is that they may not live close enough to do it and even then it’s at least six years away, since I don’t have any grandchildren yet. I guess it boils down to the fact that it’s not only one of our kids favorite thing's - it's one of mine as well.

Super Bowl Bet --

The Super Bowl bet was a farce – I didn’t care who won the stupid game. Either way I was going to win. Now it’s true because the L.A. Raiders won I wouldn’t have to pay for dinner. I convinced a goddess to bet on the outcome of the game. I guess I could just ask her out – but I had a hard time asking myself out. What a great way for a coward like me to get lucky.

Getting ready I changed my shirt three times – I only had five in the first place! I had an errand in the big city, so she agreed to make it a long evening. This was kind of like playing Russian Roulette for her. If we hit it off, it gave us plenty of time to make it great: if not, it could have been endless torment. She was way too nice to make my life miserable.

Well, here we go, Man I’m nervous – all the sudden I need to pee. There’s got to be some medical explanation why I need to go to the bathroom every time I get nervous. I better pull over at that gas station, which gives her time to check out her hair in the mirror – not that she could make it look any better. That hour and a half drive sure went fast, I never stopped talking. After I took care of my errand, she wanted me to pick where to eat. If I took us someplace to get an expensive steak, she’d think I’m a jerk since she has to pay. The Spaghetti Factory! -- that doesn’t sound too expensive, and it ended up being quite romantic --- candles and everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered the Italian sausage? That’s got to be my fifth glass of water – where’s the bathroom in this place?

This has been great for me; I wonder what she’s thinking? “Hey do you want to go to the planetarium and watch the light show?” Man she’s gorgeous, I need to make this thing last as long as possible. Maybe by the end she’ll see through the nerves and know I’m a nice guy. I can’t believe it - I need to pee again. Maybe it’s some primitive instinct where the male needs to mark his territory.

Boy, she smells wonderful. That was great. “We’re close to the university-- do you want to see if anything is going on?” Please let there be something going on! At home they have dances at the church institute every Friday night. There are a few cars at this institute, “Let’s check it out.” There weren’t that many people there and they all acted like they knew each other. I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. Alright, a slow dance, that was the highlight of the night. I didn’t care everyone was looking at us asking each other – “Who are those people?” We might as well grab some cookies and punch on the way out. If your acting like you’re invited you might as well have dessert. Oh, where is the bathroom?

“Let’s go home it’s getting late.” I wonder what we’ll talk about; she knows everything but my shoe size by now. I haven’t shut up all day; she seems to be Ok with it and is talking as well. Maybe she’s actually having a great time, too. After one more stop, can someone really need to go to the bathroom this many times? Driving home during an unusual quiet moment, I decided to ask her something intelligent. No answer-- should I ask again? Oh my gosh, she’s asleep. What does that mean? Did I wear her out or am I really that boring? I better let her sleep; at least there’s one thing that was her idea. Well we’re home, “Lori, wake-up.” She seemed embarrassed that she had fallen asleep, but she told me she had a great time and wanted to do it again. I smiled and said, “Me too.” but I had to hurry or I would have wet my pants. Six times in one night that has to be some kind of record.

All I know is that I really liked this girl and after twenty-five years and five kids together, I still think she’s the greatest. She doesn’t make me as nervous anymore, so there are fewer trips to the bathroom. But she had to think something was wrong with me.

New Years Resolution -- Published 1/1/2010 HJ

At the first of every year people seem to try to improve spiritually, mentally and physically, many times we tie these attempts in a pretty bow called New Year's resolutions. Occasionally these goals are quite obvious that they need to be done in the first place. Other times I hate it when things aren't my fault, but I still have to suffer for it.

My wife and I went away for a couple of days for our anniversary to Park City. Part of our occasional trips to Summit County always includes going to the outlet malls. This is a place where name brand manufactures have their own store and sell last years merchandise or things they have too much of at a discount - mixed in with the regular stuff at the full price.

At one stores there was a family where the parents were having a hard time with their two children, or I should say the mother was having a hard time. The fact that their boys were beating the crap out of each other and screaming bloody murder, this was over shadowed by the father’s lack of concern. As the oldest was crying uncontrollably, I heard the father yell, “Suck it up.” He didn’t have any time for this; he had just found the mother-load, Eddie Bauer polo shirts for less than ten dollars. Quickly grabbing four shirts in different colors, he turned to his wife and said: "that should do it – I just need a few shirts that fit, all of my others have shrunk."

Damn washer, or in Utah I guess I'm supposed to say dang washer. I guess technically it could have been the dryer! But the dryer already has enough of it own problems; it eats all of my socks. I wonder why it only eats one of each color? Now I don’t think it makes much difference to point out that the man looked like the late Chris Farley and I have no idea if he lives in a van down by the river. Mr. Farley’s character - Matt Foley, in this famous Saturday Night Live scene was a motivational speaker, and his speech was as effective as “Suck it up.”

Our washer has been shrinking my clothes for years. When we got married twenty-five years ago I wore pants with a thirty-inch waist. They kept shrinking so I started buying larger ones so they could make it through more washes. Now the materials they make clothes out of must be cheap – because buying a thirty-eight inch waist is to tight after they have been washed.

Other things seem not to be working right as well. We have had the same scales for years – but the numbers are all screwed up. The first number was always a one and now it’s always a two. The stupid first number doesn’t even work when my eleven-year-old daughter steps on the scales. I don’t use them anymore – why would I, it doesn’t show the right number? Despite all the things I can’t control, I should be happy I’ve got it a lot better than most people – at least I don’t have to diet or work out regularly.

Now all I have to do is figure out is how to fix our scales and that dang washer. Maybe that's what I'll set as my News Years resolutions -- I can't think of anything else!

Melted Wings --

Egos are a tender part of ones personality, which affects the delicate balance of ones self esteem: everyone wants to feel good about who or what they are. Now all of us make fools out of ourselves on occasions, so it’s hard to feel good about yourself all of the time.

I have written quite a few stories most of which have been met with good results, at least from other idiots like myself. Enough people have blown wind up my skirt to give me a bit of confidence. So I decided to see if someone with some sort of expertise thought they were any good. The problem is when you leave your little pool for other waters, and especially when those waters are swamps, lakes or oceans – it kind of like putting your soul or valuables on the chopping block. These people swing harder – so don’t be surprised you will get whacked across the side of your head and receive a few more scars. If you’re not careful, you could easily lose confidence, passion and most likely find out you’re just not as good as you thought – or in my case hoped.

This transition or metamorphosis hopefully isn’t complete. It started with the creation of a personal blog – now I don’t know what blog means or stands for, it’s not even in my spell check. A blog is on the Internet, and if someone looks hard enough supposedly they could find it. In my case you would have to search quite hard. Next came the letter to the editor – this resulted in a lot of response from my small area. This made me think that perhaps I really could swim in bigger pools – I had the right attitude I never thought I could make money at this stuff and still it was just for fun and to tell my stories to family and friends.

Now, let's see what the big boys think! I went to the top – the short story King, the Readers Digest. Well if you look at it logically I got what I should have expected – nothing. Come on you guys, you only get a trillion of these things a day you could at least tell me to kiss off. Then, I sent three stories to a newspaper – I know, a lot lower than the first try, but I got the same results. Where do you send these things? I’ve sent two others, one each to a T.V. show and a magazine. Then I received my first response – still no, but they were really nice about it.

Now this ego thing can be addictive when the results are positive, but rejection isn’t. I’ll admit I stopped writing stories for a couple of weeks but then I started to tell my stories to those in that little pool again. Ya it’s still warm water and no one's out to prove me wrong or try to ignore me. As a matter of fact, they are telling me they're great and I ought to get them printed somewhere – there goes that ego thing again. That’s all right, since I’ve already been there and know it’s not so easy. I guess I was kind of like that Icarus dude whose father crafted him some wings so he could fly, but who also warned him that he shouldn't fly too low least his wings dip into the waves and get wet - or that he shouldn't fly too high least the sun melt the wax to which the feathers were attached. I haven’t read the story since high school, but as I recall - Icarus started to think he was pretty great, became euphoric and flew too close to the sun and the wax holding his feathers together melted on his wings and it wasn’t a good thing. Such a rapid descent can be kind of hazards to ones health. Perhaps I should just sort of ride the waves - not going too high to melt my wings or too low to get discouraged or depressed. In time hopefully I'll learn to navigate at just the right altitude Maybe I just need to know my place - and think about what made writing these stories so fun in the first place.

I know that all of the stories are true and I enjoy the rush I get from writing them. Maybe I'll just have to hone my stills a little better to bring out the greatest of each story - you can't make this stuff up better than they already are. I guess I should just keep trying until they tell me to get lost. Back to the newspaper –a great place to start, because it hits such a small area. This time I sent two stories and followed it up with a phone call. Then came the return call – they wanted to print one of my stories. All right – a published author, even if hardly anyone read it. Oh well maybe some day I’ll have to write another section at the end of this one – but if not that’s Ok too.

Walking Dead--

Yesterday was Halloween; I saw a bunch of kids dressed up like Zombies. I guess a Zombie is a person that is dead but still walks around with their hands held out trying to kill other people – the walking dead. Why they are trying to kill everyone is beyond me, maybe they’re just mad they’re dead so they want to take it out on everyone else. I don’t know how someone came up with this concept – believers I'm sure would say because it’s true. I think there is a lot of people that walk around like Zombies: emotionally their dead to the world and the things that would bring them happiness. I think all of us fall into this category once in a while.

This week our son goes on an LDS mission. This is a two-year period that young men in our church are asked to go to another part of the country or world to serve, teach and support the growth of the church in that area. Missions are encouraged, but are not required of all young men when they turn nineteen year of age. This is a huge sacrifice and needs to be the young man’s decision otherwise it could be a waist of time. Our son has been called to Argentina, which as far as I know is in a different world. They gave him plenty of time to prepare, but the two or so weeks before he leaves have been terrible - it feels like a funeral. When my father died it was a great blessing – he had been in poor health for many years. I know that where he is now is a far better place. Even after fifteen years I still miss him tremendously. I would love to have another opportunity to sit down and talk to him or do something fun together. I believe we will be together at some point; we will embrace, laugh and want to know everything that has happened since the last time we saw each other - it will be a wonderful reunion. I’m sure he will ask about his grandchildren and how I have treated my wife and if I brought any shame to the family name.

Most of these things are the same thing that will happen with my son’s mission. The mission will be a great blessing to him; his spiritual strength will increase tremendously, why wouldn’t it - he studies, prays and teaches from the scriptures on a daily basis. I think a mission is the greatest training tool that anyone this age could do in order to prepare for life, marriage and providing for a family. What a great place to learn how to work, study and relate to people. It‘s hard especially for those that have to learn a new and difficult language. Like my father - at this part in my son’s life he will be in a better place. This will be one of the only times in his life that he will spend every waking moment looking outward and seeing what he can do to help others more than himself. I will miss him tremendously! Unlike death we will be able to talk to him twice a year – Mothers Day and Christmas. We will be able to e-mail once a week, because he will be so busy we will want to know more than he will have time to tell us. We won’t be able to do anything together but we will have a great reunion in a couple of years. I’m sure at that time we will embrace, laugh and want to know everything that has happened since we were together. I may ask him if he has done anything to disgrace the family name – even though I already know the answer. We have started to feel like Zombie emotionally in anticipation of the void that will overcome us when he’s gone.

My wife isn’t an emotional person and she has started to feel the pain. In reality it’s actually should be a celebration – he hasn’t died nor is he in prison and acting like an idiot doing something that would bring shame to the family. Most people agree that the hardest part is dropping them off. I went on a mission a long time ago so I think I’m more excited about him going because of this experience that will change his life forever. But I’m the crier in the family and I’m sure it will be hard. But unlike death our time apart will be short and he’ll come back a better person than when he left. I’m sure like a funeral it’s harder for those left behind than those that have started the new journey.

Wrote Letter to Editor --

I did something for the very first time – when you’re fifty years old it’s harder and harder to say such a thing without getting in trouble or having to buy a new kind of undergarment. I wrote a letter to the editor – and they actually printed it. After I wrote it I thought it was great – then I pushed the send button and my mind screamed out what are you doing? I even used my real name. I hadn’t thought of using some other name, the same day there was a letter from a Helen Waite, which some people were concern didn’t really live in the small town in question. My mother’s maiden name was Helen Hunt; she had a lot of stories about people telling someone to go to Helen Hunt for it.

I don’t know what came over me to write a letter; it had never crossed my mind before. You can ask my wife there are a lot of things that have never crossed my mind before – like doing things around the house. The letter I wrote had a point, and of course I thought it was a good one. As with many of my conversations it was written with a twist of humor, which my family points out isn’t always good because I’m not as funny as I think I am. I was just trying to show how ridicules society is becoming.

One thing I was unaware of is that people could respond or critique your comments in a “blog” on the papers web site. It was more than a week later before a friend told me that it was there. I had twenty-eight entries about my letter. A few of the comments were in response to other “bloggers” evaluations and not my original work. Some of them were very supportive a few even thanking me for the letter – or thanking me for poking fun of five different government agencies. Others wisely pointed out that I had made a serious mistake, now maybe that was writing in the first place, I had admitted in print that I had put soap in a public fountain – which I’m sure is against the law.

Now I will have to admit that I did this act more than twenty-five years ago, but it sounded like it was the last time such an act took place. This soap discretion was committed when I was still young enough to run away from my crime. Besides the “bloggers” I’ve had a lot of feedback from those that read the letter. One man asked me why I would have put soup in the fountain – I guess I could have used a couple of cases of Lipton cup a noodle. I was assured by the chief of police a couple of years ago that the statute of limitations has ran out on most of my youthful acts – of course that is the out going chief and I have no idea what the new regime will say. Since I’m coming clean, I might as well admit to all of my criminal behavior. I have toilet papered more than once – being caught twice. I have egged cars and jaywalked across Main Street. With the exception of jaywalking – all of these acts happened in the 70’s.

Anyone reading this article that thinks they have personal knowledge of other discretions I was involved in that aren’t on the list, there could be a couple of reasons: 1^st the statute of limitations isn’t up, 2^nd – I’m too old to remember that they ever took place, or 3^rd your mistaken and I wasn’t there. Now I’m sure that because I have admitted to these dreadful crimes I wouldn’t be able to run for any kind of political office. Can you imagine what the media could do with this information in a heated school board campaign – with the winner having authority over young impressionable minds? One “blogger” was astonished that I would participate in such acts of vandalism “which cost thousands of tax payer dollars in cleanup and repair.” Now the “blogger didn’t list their name and where I could find them – I’m sure it was because they were afraid I would put soap in their sprinkle heads (I wonder if that would work?)

Public Speaking --

I’ve heard a number of times that the two greatest fears that most people have is dying and public speaking. I don’t know much about the dying thing – but like the majority I’ve had fears of speaking in front of people. In my seventh grade math class the students decided to sing happy birthday to me – I was so scared and embarrassed that I accidentally stabbed my leg with my pencil under my desk. The lead broke off and left a grey dot that can still be seen today, I guess it’s like a mini tattoo.

On more than one occasion, I remember giving a speech or talk in school or church and having my leg shake so bad I looked like Thumper the rabbit in Bambi. I had a speech impediment that made it hard to say things the way I wanted too. At least most of the times there was a podium that I could hide behind. I think it’s helpful to be a little nervous before an important presentation or discourse – not only does it help you to prepare, but also it keeps you on your toes. I must have done all right in those early years since our primary leader at church used to call me her little patriarch – I didn’t know what a patriarch was but she said it in a pleasant manner so I knew it wasn’t bad. Every time someone didn’t show up to give his or her scripture, talk or prayer, she would recruit me to fill in. It seemed that people didn’t show up quit often.

As I was growing up, and even extending into my college years, I had a number of opportunities to speak publicly. Despite an occasional bout of nerves, it really didn’t scare me that much so I signed up for a public speaking class in order to meet one of my elective courses in college. It really was a fun class and was divided equally between men and women. About half of the men were on the university football team, I guess they needed to know how to speak to the media, or they may have aspired to become sportscaster after their illustrious careers. I took the class because I thought it would be an easy A. Most of the class members were communications majors and the course was required for graduate. Over the duration of the class, we were required to deliver approximately five speeches and had a number of assignments on how to prepare a speech. These were all important to your grade, but all of these together weren’t as important as the final exam. The good and bad part of the final is there was really no way to prepare. It was a two day, four hour event – and most of the time all we did was listen to the other students giving their speeches. The way it worked was that just before your turn you walked to the front of the class and picked a piece of paper out of a large bowl. On that piece of paper was a topic that would decide your fate or seal your ultimate doom.

We were given a few moments to collect your thought or to clean up the accident that you just had. Then you presented an extemporaneous speech that would basically decide your grade. We were graded on three criteria – composure, delivery and audience reaction. The content of the speech had little or no importance because you had no time to research the facts and details of the chosen topic.

When it was my turn, I approached the menacing bowl at the front of the room with trepidation - like everyone else. Hesitantly I picking my topic from the bowl, it read “The evils of Gossip.” What? I thought for a moment then I had the perfect idea. I approached the front of the class and started my remarks by saying; “What’s faster than a speeding bullet and sharper than a two edged sword?” I then hesitated, answered my own question by saying - “A woman’s tongue.” What happened was exactly what I expected; I received an instant reaction from the class, which was one of the judged criteria. The men cheered and laughed. The women were visibly offended and booed loudly. I proceeded to talk about how women were totally to blame for the problem of gossip and pointed out that gossip not only hurts people, but also wastes time and money as it destroys productivity in the business world. Now remember, facts were not important – I had no obligation to prove my hypotheses, I just had to present it. At the end of this impromptu masterpiece the men in the class gave me a standing ovation, the woman took it for what it was worth an opportunity to ace a college final. The professor then did something she said she had never done before; she gave the next speaker – a woman, the chance to pick a new topic or give the opposite view of my speech. Because the class was already worked up, she would have been crazy to choose another topic. I don’t remember what she said and it really didn’t matter because I had accomplished my objective and nailed the speech and in turn the class. I’ve given hundred of speeches since that day but never made up facts to get a reaction or in this case a grade.