Looking Back on 2012

When I was driving home from Christmas 1980, I heard Barry Manilow on the radio singing "I made it thru the rain" and it hit me. I made it thru a difficult year. I grew in unexpected ways. I had experienced trials before like death of a cousin, uncles and a neighbor before that awful year, but not this closely related. Looking back at that year, I realized at 22 years of age that I didn't want to go back to the life before December 26, 1979. Life before had it challenges, but none that had strengthen me like 1980 had. I learned what having faith was.
I wrote the above around the first of May 2012. I had attended a one session class about change. One of the bosses for our division at University of Utah strongly advised that the employees under her attend the class.. Little did I realize then that 2012 would be wrought with change. At the time, life was good and nothing on horizon indicated change. But as fate would have, things started happening during the summer that brought another big change in my life. My mom passed away from cancer.

In this summary, I will start at the first of the year, when life was calm. 2012 wasn’t all bad and I want to remember that, even though it was another year of growth. So glad I had that class when I did. 2011 would have been too early and 2013 would have been too late.  And like 1980, I feel like "I made it thru the rain" again. But then again, I still feel as if I will be still dancing in the rain when 2013. There is still unfinished business to complete.

We are doing okay. We enjoyed more blue skies in January than any other January in recent history. My iPad and cell phone documented this little known fact quite a bit.

Between Jay’s birthday and mine, I volunteered once more at the Race for the Cure. I helped out the day before the race activities. I had to pass a background check first because I took donations. It was at new venue this year. Because the race outgrew The Gateway, it had to be moved to Library Square. The numbers were down this year because of a certain beneficiary causing a controversy. But there was still a large turnout, thanks to those who have hope for a cure.

Summer was okay. There were more than usual range fires close to homes in Utah.(and Idaho and Colorado, my other home states.) Jay and I were never in danger, but others were. I didn't go anywhere, not even to Park City. Jay and John went home a few times. I don't like traveling during the summer that much. Too hot.
Things got a bit too eventful as fall approached. Three or four weeks after being diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, my mom left us to reunite with my dad. Although I didn't see her until a few hours after she passed, I did cherish the moments I got to hear her voice. It was weak, but thanks to my parents' sacrifice when I was twelve, I got to hear her voice. (I had an ear operation before I entered 7th grade.) My sisters took care of Mom in Washington, but the services were in Idaho where she is resting now.
Looking back on the past year, I find that I am grateful for kindness. Crystal was thrilled when she got a gift card to Cafe Zupas. Tracina thanked me for the Swedish Fish I threw in a package at the last minute. A lot of people sent my mom get well cards. Mom did her best to cheerful toward the nurses. My work gave me funeral chocolates instead of flowers. I liked that. But the most comforting kindness I knew that people were praying for Mom and my family in our time of need and being kind to my older brother even though he didn't deserve it.

Although I am glad 2012 is almost over, I am glad I went thru it. I've learned quite a bit and still will as I continue in 2013. Sorry the world didn’t end 12/21/12. Marty McFly went back to the future in 2015. For once Hollywood got it right.

Trains

I rode UTA's Frontrunner to Provo Saturday morning. Regular service started Monday, so Saturday was a free ride. At least between Salt Lake Central and Provo. I woke up earlier than usual for a weekend and caught the bus at 9am. I decided to go for the morning hours because I had an event that evening. I also assumed the line would be shorter than the afternoon hours. In April 2008, when Frontrunner debuted, Jay and I stood in line for hours before we boarded for our hour ride to Ogden. My assumption proved correct, because when I got off the UTA Trax Blue line at Salt Lake Central, there was hardly a line. When I boarded the train, I had my choice of seats. So different than four years ago when I boarded a standing room only train. When we finally pulled into the Provo Station, there was a long line forming. I took a picture and texted it to Isaac, who had plans to ride it free that afternoon.

When Isaac was born I took my last round trip to Seattle from Salt Lake City on Amtrak. I had taken my first trip on Amtrak five years earlier on the same route. My love of traveling by rail blossomed with Amtrak and I didn't realize how much I missed trains until Frontrunner opened up four years ago. There is just something about riding a train.

A few summers ago in 2009, I took a trip on the Heber Valley Railroad with my mom, my sister, Mary and her best friend, Deborah. The cars were pulled by a steam engine locomotive. There was a dining car like Amtrak and passenger cars like Frontrunner, except it was a single level of seats instead of two. We sat out in the open air car, which was what Mom preferred. She had a taken a few train trips in her youth.

Although my love affair with began with Amtrak, it really started while I was living at home. Growing up I would often see the freight trains north of where I lived. Sometime when we go to Paul, Burley, Heyburn or Rupert, we get stopped at the railroad lights waiting for the freight line to pass. If there were a lot of cars following the locomotive, we would count the cars. Sometimes when I couldn't sleep at night I would hear a train north of us, passing thru the night. The conductor would blow the whistle as the train crossed roads. It was comforting because I knew I wasn't the only one awake. When I traveled to Seattle both times on Amtrak, the train would pass thru Southern Idaho in the middle of night. I always wonder if there was someone awake who could hear the train and I wondered if it was as comforting to them as it had me for me.

I like trains, probably because I have such good memories and will continue to create good memories. After all, I usually ride the UTA Trax Red line home from work most weekday nights.

Glass Houses

I usually don't political in my blogs. I leave that to others. But after this election year, I thought I would share my thoughts. I did share this on Facebook before Tuesday, November 6th.

I find myself telling me that I am glad that the election is over. The verbal attacks have been again intense this year. But then I remember 4 years ago, the verbal attacks didn't stop after the election; they got worse. Not only have Romney and Obama been throttling each other necks, but Matheson and Love were throwing mud at each other. I am sure their parents and/or mentors would not approve of or taught such behaviors. It is quite sad that the candidates engaged in such blistering accusations, but it is even sadder that voters and media commentators followed their example and engaged in such profane exchanges. The profanity used during the election year did not always include swearing and the usual foul language, but it was often full of condemning words. I found myself confused at some of the anger expressed. Both major parties were speaking lies and casting accusations at the other parties.
Some of my Facebook friends engaged in the mud throwing. Most of them that did, just posted the photo that expressed their view, but some felt a need to throw more mud when they post a comment about the photo. I had to limit what came thru my newsfeed, mostly to keep myself sane in time of bitterness. When I saw these postings I was reminded of the LDS hymn that has the words "Let Oft Speak Kind Words".  Sometimes I thought of the words that Pres. Dieter F. Uchtdorf spoke in April 2012 LDS General Conference "Let us put our stones down. Let us be kind." I am reminded of the quote "People in glass houses should not throw stones." We all live in glass houses and none of us are better than the other, even though we vote differently.
When the election was over in 2008, I thought the anger would subside. It didn't, people were offended that Obama won. A former student refused to do his exit interview because Obama was in the White House. And it is the same this year. A coal mining CEO, Bob Murray closed down a mine in Central Utah because Obama won. I see Facebook postings that blame the evils of the nation on election results. Why do people insist on beating a dead dog senseless? If the dog is dead, it is safe to say that the dog has no sense, therefore the job is done. Why waste the energy? The election is over, the votes have been counted - move on and live with the results. I remember when Bush lost to Clinton in 1992; he asked the American public to support Clinton. It had been a bitter battle for the White House like it was this year. But Clinton has became like a son to Bush, because both were willing to put turn their swords into plowshares and be kind to each other. They rebuilt the bridge they burned.
Secret Agent L. said, "Be kind. No exceptions." I don't know who Secret Agent L is or what kind of media he or she is from, but I like what was said. So now that the election is over, I hope Romney, Obama, Matheson, Love, members of congress and the senate, the media commentators and the voters can turn their swords into plowshares. Please don't beat the dead dog on the sidewalk senseless. Be kind and give it a proper burial. The dog won't know of your kindness. But others will know, even if you bury the dog quietly. As Dieter F. Uchtdorf  said last April  "Let us put our stones down. Let us be kind."

Loss

I lost my mom, but they lost their grandma.

 I look at this picture and  I see their long, sad faces. I wish I had just given them a hug instead of taking the picture.  Losing a loved one isn't easy when you are a teenager. I lost my cousin, Edward when I was in 9th grade. When I heard of his death; it seemed unreal. I can only imagine that is what my nephews are feeling when I look at this picture.  When Laura and I got back to house from the care center after the mortuary took Mom's body, Skylar went outside and jumped on the tramp a few times. His actions reminded me that life went on. It was comforting to see him on the tramp. Skylar had been waiting in the car most of afternoon while we waited for the mortuary to come and while we also made a few phone calls and preliminary funeral plans. He had been patience and probably had to release some stress. After all, his grandma just died.

As I was sitting in church this past Sunday, I realized I had something in common with these young men. Like them, I never knew my Grandpa Jackson. He died before my parents were married. Skylar, Brennan and Spencer never knew their Grandpa Jackson, my dad. My mom was a widow before either of my nephews parents had been married. As I was growing up, I missed knowing my dad's parents. (Grandma Jackson died shortly after my oldest brother was born.) Maybe the sadness I see on my nephews' faces are of missing another grandparent. And then maybe I can understand their pain. Losing a grandparent is tough.

The Hippie Bus

I notice the Hippie Bus last spring, but it could have been there from the semester before. It was a old small yellow school bus that looked lived in. Turf (from the stadium?) covered the body except for the windows and the hood of the van. There were curtains in the windows. As I walked most days to my spot at the Trax station,  I noticed at times there were things hanging from the front where the head lights would be. Most days it was there always facing south, but that was because it was parked on a one way street (or alley). When Spring semester ended, I thought the Hippie Bus would go away. But after a week it came back, close or in the same spot as before. The last time I saw the Hippie Bus, a young man was driving it toward 500 South. He didn't look like a hippie, but a regular student. Fall semester is well under way and the Hippie Bus is gone. As I wait for the train to come take me away, I look at the spot where it was parked and I miss the Hippie Bus.

My Memories of Mom

My earliest memories are growing up. I remember once Mom asked to help Laura wash the dishes and I didn't want to. I remember slamming a melmack (plastic dinnerware popular in the 70's) plate into a sink full of dishes. The plate received a major chip and had a crack, but it was still useable. Every time I saw that plate, I was reminded of my anger. I am not sure if I learned my lesson to hold my tongue, but I am glad that my Mom silently put me in my place.
I remember her picking me and my siblings up at school sometimes and for Primary every Wednesday. That was just who she was. Looking after her children. I remember going to her genealogy books and being fascinated by those legal size sheets.
Once I was having a problem getting along with one of my friends, it was either junior high or high school. I don't remember what she told me, but I remembered that she listened and that she cared.
When I graduated from the University of Utah, she was determined to attend the ceremonies with Steve and me. She regretted not being able to be there when I got my Associates from Ricks College years before. Steven led me on a final campus tour before I turned my cap and gown in at the bookstore. She trailed us for some of the tour before finding a place to rest.
I remember trips to Colorado and Blackfoot, Idaho to see family. I also remember a trip to Olympia to see Mary's family. Not everyone came, but we had a good time. It was fun to visit Victoria, Canada. We took the ferry there. It was my only time out of the country. We took a few trips to Seattle together, both by plane and car. 
Aunt Gladys, Mom and I took a two week vacation in the Midwest. Our destination was Nauvoo. Aunt Gladys would comment that Mom had a habit of falling asleep in the back seat like their father did during Sacrament Meeting (church service). Mom said she was just along for the ride and grateful to be included. Mom said once during the trip that she figured this would be her last chance to see Nauvoo and some of the other places we visited.
When I flew out on Southwest, September 14th, to see Mom for a possible last time. About an hour before boarding, my sisters called to tell me that Mom had left this mortal life. I felt lonely until I was standing in line to board the plane. I realized she would be making this trip with me. One of my first flights to Seattle was with Mom on Delta, which is the airline she always flew. I was grateful to have a final flight with her and to know that she will continue to watch over me.

Posts From a Email & Facebook

To be read to my Mom
August 25, 2012 10:01 PM
Thanks, Mom for taking care of me. I think you put a lot of investment in me. I was glad that I could hear you tonight. Granted I did have my good ear pressed to my cellphone. I have realized recently that my hearing has declined in the last decade, but I am glad for the hearing I have. Your voice was weak and I'm pretty sure you weren't speaking directly into the phone, but I got to hear you. Thanks for all those trips to Salt Lake for my hearing tests and for staying with me when I had my operation. The bones in my left ear may have grown back together, but the operation wasn't in vain. I think I learned compassion and to have faith. I don't think I could have gotten thru losing Dad and my other trials if you hadn't spent the time caring for me. I think you did a pretty good bang up job on me.  I'm glad that Laura is able to take care of you. I think she taught us all to be a fighter and to have faith when the outcome isn't so sure. I'm pretty sure Mary was using her as example when she had cancer. I've learned a lot from Laura, even though she is my younger sister. I don't why Mom but when I think of the fight you are fighting now, I feel a peace. I don't know the outcome, but I know that somehow things will work out. Dad is watching over you and he has watched over all of us for the past 30 something years. Love is eternal.  Well, Mom, get some rest, drink your Boost and let Bella and Mo give you cheer. I love you and I always will.
Take care. Susan 
Perseverance and spirit have done wonders in all ages. General George Washington

A smile that is infectious is healthy.

My mom is smiling at the world. My sister, Mary texted this picture Saturday evening, September 8th, while Jay and I were at Stake (extended LDS neighborhood) Conference. When I saw this picture, I had to chuckle. This is her typical smile and it was so refreshing to see after the earlier pictures that Mary had texted. I saved it my card in my cellphone and then took the card out and into the PC. I printed off a copy for my brother who does not have cellphone or Internet connection. When I finished that I emailed to my aunts, a cousin and of course my siblings. Then I emailed it to Jewel, my adopted sister. When I got back to my iPad, I checked my email and saved the picture. Every time I open my iPad there is my Mom smiling at me. And now of course, thanks to the digital age, my Mom is smiling at the world. Yeah, a  smile that is infectious is healthy. It was for me.

My Mom is well. She is with my Dad once again and having a joyful reunion with her  sister, Verla and her parents. She has even met my Grandpa Jackson for the first time.  I will miss my Mom, but I have the faith that she is where she needs to be with her family that she hasn't seen for so long. Mom, like my Dad will continue to watch over me. Thank you all for your support and prayers during this ordeal. It has meant a lot. Prayers were answered and will continue to be answered.
(I can just see my Dad introducing my Mom to her father-in-law "Dad, this is LaRee, the young woman I married.")

Thanks to the examples of others, I can face this challenge. When my Dad died 30 plus years, I remembered a classmate who had grew up without her father and that gave me courage to forge on. And now that my Mom has left this mortal life, I look at the example that my friends have set, who have lost their parents and realize I can sum the courage to move forward. Thanks for your examples that you didn't know you were setting for me; it has been most appreciated. 9/18

Robin Cook, Jewel & Me

8/18 @ 9:51pm Susan to Jewel: I bought Crystal a Robin Cook novel. Bit of a long story.  I need her address.
8/19 @ 8:29am Jewel to Susan: Well we delivered Crystal to her apartment at Snow yesterday. Such a busy day. But she is settled and having a blast. I don't have her mailing address yet but I'll see if she knows what it is. What novel did you get? I have read a lot of Robin Cook. Like his stuff.
8/18 @ 8:31am Susan to Jewel: Death Benefits. You got me hooked on Robin Cook so I thought I would get Crystal hooked.
8/18 @ 8:32am Jewel to Susan: Good idea
When I attending the University of Utah back in the 1980's, Jewel gave me "Blind" by Robin Cook to read. I looked at the book and thought there was no way that I would find the time to read it. I working full-time and going to school four nights a week. I had heard of Robin Cook's "Coma"; it had been made into a movie that I never saw. So when I got home, I opened the book and started reading. I gave it my shot. Despite working and studying, I finished the book. Before I graduated from the U, I read a few more Robin Cook novel. And after college, I walked to the library and read more Robin Cook novels. I even found other authors to read. I got into Tom Clancy for awhile, but then one of his characters weirded me out and I gave up on his books. Even though Robin Cook has slowed down and seems to be semi-retired, I still catch his books now and then. Jewel has introduced me to a few other authors like Mauve Binchy and John Grisham. But I won't get Crystal addicted to those authors, just Robin Cook. He was the first and being a nursing student, Crystal may identify with the settings his books take place - the hospital. But then she may decide she needs a break and will read Richard Paul Evans or Jodi Picoult. But when it gets right down to it, I hope that Crystal will be able to find time in her busy college life to read a good book or two while she is cramming for midterms and writing thesis.  
"What isn't tried won't work." Claude McDonald

For the love of chocolate I finally got Crystal's address. She texted it to me (and then I texted it to Jewel). I included Godiva chocolates with the Robin Cook book and a few other things. I mailed it off at the Campus Store post office. And then I checked everyday to see where the package was at. It took forever getting out of Salt Lake County, spent some time in Provo. On Monday I checked the status and it said it was out to delivery in Manti. I panicked and sent Crystal a text telling her I was so sorry that she would not get her chocolates that day. Just as I stepped into the Trax station at the stadium, I saw Crystal's text. She had just gotten the package and was so grateful. I think I am learning how the mail system works in a small town. Funny I grew up in a rural area. Things have changed since I've lived in the city, especially the postal service.

My Summary for August 2012

Night never had the last word. The dawn is always invincible. - Hugh B. Brown 

I thought of that quote when I woke up early on Sunday, August 12th. My brother, Mike had predicted the night before that Mom would not make it thru the night, she was too weak. I realized at 5:30 am that there had been no phone call. (it wasn't until later that morning that I found out Mike had called Jay at 4:00am.). Mom had made it thru the night; dawn had come and the night did not have the last word. My Mom was diagnosed with stage 4 non-Hodgkin Lymphoma cancer in August. She had been having problems eating most of the summer. Mike said she was fasting because of the evils that others had done. Little did we know that the reason she could not eat was because she could not swallow. My younger sister, Laura rushed home to Idaho from her vacation in Utah to be with Mom. The situation was not as dire as she was told. Laura took Mom to the doctor the next day while her husband and son traveled onto Seattle. During Laura's two week stay, Mom was diagnosed in degrees with stage four non-Hodgkin lymphoma cancer. Mom was able to continue her treatments in the Seattle area.
Life for my siblings and I continued to be an emotional roller coasters. There were days when the dawn signaled that the night had not had the final word. My Mom had made it thru the night and was ready to face another day. Thru her example, Mom was giving me and my siblings the strength to make it through the difficult night. The night will not have the last word, my Mom is fighting the good fight. The dawn is always invincible.

1st Day of School (this week and a hundred years ago)

School started tjos weel om Salt lake County. Some of my Facebook friends posted pictures of their children's 1st day of school.  It bought memories of my Mom lining us up by the mailbox and taking a picture of us before the school came to take away. (Freedom for her, but a prision sentence for us.)

This is the picture my Mom took on my first day of school. as you can tell I was quite excited. I was a big girl now (like my siblings.)  I don't think my sisters and for sure not my brothers were too thrilled.  Not sure if it was the picture taking that dampened thier spirts or waiting for the bus to take us back to prision, I mean school. It could the thought of spending 6 hours too long in an un air conditioned building.  Maybe my brothers were dreading Sam Jones, because my excitement wasn't rubbing off them. I really didn't have a clue what I was getting into. I was doing something my older siblings did 9 months out of the year. Little did I know that Pigs In A Blanket (a shrunken wiener wrapped and baked in bread dough) were sometimes as a main course for lunch. But I did like my teacher, Mrs. Swan. So yeah, I had a reason to smile.

An Adventure With a Silly Sticker

But my attitude plummeted early Monday morning when I found out I had to wear sticker in a respectable part of my clothing. It read "May I Help U". No one was to crazy about wearing that sticker for the next three days. Someone higher up in another division had decided it would be a good idea for those who work in Student Services to wear it. The students are not hesitant to ask for help if they need it. The skinny coed was hungry and she approached me I wasn't wearing the annoying sticker.  Not everyone in our department wore a sticker; just most of us in the tuition/student loans wore it. The cashiers who work directly with students didn't wear their stickers. One person was tempted to wear it Fonzi (Happy Days) style. When I went to lunch, I was tempted to post to one of wide cement poles that hold up the building, but I knew it wouldn't stick. I almost removed it and stuck it on a toilet paper roll dispenser, but I thought my boss, Lisa would find it.

But after lunch, I grew weary of wearing it and stuck it on (not in) my trashcan under my desk. Lisa was so busy putting out fires in tuition that she never noticed it. I don't think she was wearing a sticker, but Pat did. I wonder if he was still wearing it when he left work at three to pick up a train wreck. (don't ask, long story)

 The next day I waited until after 8am. I was not thrilled to wear this sticker again, not even a fresh one. (I was given the three.) But after my the sticker police, my boss, Pat, went thru the office. I put it on. Not everyone did. Arnold (name was changed to protect the innocent) refuse to wear it. One day was enough. No one really forward to another day of a dumb idea. When I went on break, I stuck it to my monitor so I'd remember to wear the silly thing when I got back. After break I got creative with my camera in my cellphone. If I had to wear that sticker I could at least get some entertainment out of it.

After joking about it being a final resting place, I could not resist.

 I may not be wearing it, but I am still asking "May I Help U"

My sentiments exactly - not a bright idea

On the third day I got to work and I did not want to wear that sticker not even a fresh one. So I left the 3rd sticker untouched.

But after break I put on. I decided I needed some more adventures. I noticed that Arnold posted one of the stickers by the front desk, where students could see it. 

But I have to admit wearing that sticker is beneath me.

And no, I'm not pledging alligence to the flag, I'm covering up the sticker.

And at the end of the day, I just want to wash my hands of any silly sticker wearing.

1st Day of School

I wasn't in an episode of Lost On Campus like I was last year. As I walking across campus after I got off the bus, only one person asked me for directions. The skinny coed wanted to know where some food was at 7:30am. I pointed her toward the Union. It wasn't as crowded as last year. I didn't anyone looking at the maps located through out campus or anyone ask another person for directions. It was like the lost freshman were at another campus or still on the freeway. But when the day was over and I was riding home on Trax, I realized that for a Monday and the 1st day of school; it wasn't a half bad day. Even wearing a stupid sticker didn't make that much of a dent. And there was no confused mother from an episode of Lost On Campus.

A Pioneer Day Weekend

I was walking up the stairs from the laundry room and I could hear the rain. It sounded so good, almost like music to my ears. I was also grateful that I could enjoy the sound. Because there was one Pioneer Day Weekend that I couldn't enjoy the rain. My first reminder of that Pioneer Day Weekend was Sunday as the congregation sang the closing hymn "Come, Come Ye Saints" in Sacrament Meeting. I remembered how I felt when I sung those words in a similar meeting 19 years ago. Two days before that meeting, my brothers and I had been evacuated from my apartment. The roofs of the buildings we being replaced. While the work was being done, Salt Lake County experienced a Seattle rain day. The supervisor made a decision of not allowing the exposed roof to cover with tarp. His reasoning was that the tarp would endanger the walls of the building. When I came home that Friday evening after spending a day at my friend's. There was fire truck in the parking lot. I couldn't smell smoke, but the firemen were checking out the structure of the building. Before long there was a knock at my door and a firefighter was informing me to evacuate. I'm not sure where John was or if he came home during the chaos. All I remember is that I called my friend, Jewel to inform her I was returning to house to spend the night. One does not think, you just do.  July 24th, Pioneer Day in Utah was sunny and so was the next day. I sat in church with John, attending a ward I had never attended before. (I attended a singles ward in the same area.). As we were sing "Come,Come Ye Saints" I thought of the Pioneers when they were evicted from their homes in Nauvoo, Illinois. I understood a bit better what they felt; what it was like for them. They didn't think, they just did. Six or seven months later in 1994 our stake had regional conference in the tabernacle. Again "Come,Come Ye Saints" was sung, but this time, I identified with gratitude of finding a place to live and a place to stay while Jay and I looked for a place. Jewel opened up her home to us for three weeks. Her husband, Chuck was in the remodeling the kitchen.  Although on Sunday when my current ward was singing "Come,Come Ye Saints" I had a hard identifying with eviction that the Pioneers faced, I was reminded of the kind acts that followed the evacuation of the Cherry Hill Apartments. People of the ward that I attended offered thier homes to those who suddenly homeless. The Red Cross looked after us. (Now you know why I don't mind donating to the Red Cross or the Road Home.) Because of Jewel's kindness I now find it necessary to supply food or money when the Utah Food Bank has a fund drive. It is my way of saying thanks. I appreciate the members from my singles ward helping Jay and I move. I think I knew that 24th of July that I wasn't coming back to Cherry Hills. I'm glad that my nephews, Kevin and Jared had the good sense to be born on the 23rd and 24th of July. I can celebrate on those days instead of lamenting. And I am glad that Crystal was born a year later; not only is she a reminder that prayers are answered, but that life goes on. And I enjoy the rain, even when it rains all day. My soul is refreshed. The smell of rain still reminds me of home and how blessed I have been throughout my life.

Thoughts from July 2005

Love Is Eternal   I coined this phrase as I was sleeping in last Saturday morning, but the concept started twenty-five years ago when my Dad died.  Even though my Dad was gone, I knew he still loved me and watched over me.  One might say that a way I coped with his death. But what got the concept rolling this morning was Garrett Bardsley.  He is still missing Boy Scout, hiding somewhere in Uinta's waiting for someone to discover his body.  His family has prayed and searched for him, with no luck in finding him.  Garrett is a good man.   During the winter, a school in Central or South America was built in his honor.   Garrett's family had it done either thru funds raised to help Garrett or some other means.  Maybe Mr. Bardsley funded the means himself.  The school bears Garrett's name.  I would not be surprised that Garrett watches over his family, helping them be better people, trying to tell them where he is hiding.  And maybe Garrett was helping the searchers find Brennan Hawkins.  And I bet that Garrett loves his family and friends just like they love him. And like Dad, I wouldn't be surprised there are other people who love, watch and try to communicate with their families and friends even though they have departed from this life. So love is eternal. Praying & Trusting   My thoughts from yesterday's sleep-in carried over.  It was the Bardsley vs. Hawkins debate.  Why was Brennan found when Garrett wasn't?   We really don't know why Garrett is still missing and Brennan was found alive, except that there is a reason why things turned out the way they did.  Maybe Garrett and Brennan are and were helping each other in their searches.  The Bardsleys have prayed and searched for him, with no luck in finding him; while Hawkins had the luck of having their prayers answered.   Why were the Hawkins' prayers answered and not the Bardsley's? Prayers in behalf of each boy were and are still being answered.  The Hawkins were no more righteous than the Bardsley's, nor are the Bardsley's a better family than Hawkins because of the difference of depth of the trails.  There is a reason (or reasons) why things in each case went the way they did. When Brennan was found alive, his mother exclaimed that since Brennan had been found alive that prayers were answered and that the heavens were not close.  Defense went up for those who had negative answers to prayers and what of Bardsleys, who son was still at large, probably under a foot of snow that had yet to melt.  Brennan's mother was probably expressing her gratitude and got a little too zealous in the expression.  The Lord is mindful of the Bardsley's prayers and desires of the heart.  Maybe Brennan was found alive to help the searcher to keep the faith.  It is possible to find lost loved ones alive.  Brennan can testify of his experiences while lost that aid searchers in the future for finding those who will get lost in mountains.  And hopefully, Brennan's success will help those searching for Garrett.  I can't stop to think that if Garrett had been found alive last summer, would his dad have been inspired to help rebuild a school in Garrett's honor.  One can say the Garrett's father and family have had their gold refined.  And Brennan's mom has her gold refined since he was found.  There was quite an uproar that occurred when she made her zealous comment on prayer.  The reactions probably paused to look within herself and hopefully reach out to those who aren't so lucky. It takes a lot of trust when one prays.  For Garrett, it is trusting that he will be found.  It was late in summer when he disappeared and Brennan, who was lost at the beginning of the summer.  Winter was closing in Garrett, while Brennan was dealing with the awakening of summer.  But still the Uinta Mountains are unpredictable.  Brennan was facing cold nights just Garrett. Just after Brennan was found, bad weather struck again in the Uintas.   It is trusting in the reasons why one was found alive and the other is missing.  It is accepting the bad news when our prayers aren't answer the way we wanted them to be answered.  And not be jealous when some one's prayer was answered quickly, while our prayers seem to be on hold.  It takes faith to trust in our prayers.  Our prayers are not answer in the way we feel the should.  The Lord knows what is best for each situation, who can handle what and when it can be handle.  The Lord knows our strengths and our weakness and I think that he answers our prayers according, not on our worthiness.   Read “Faith Is the Answer” by Elder David E Sorensen, April 2005 General Conference. (May 2005 Ensign or www.lds.org) 7/2012   A year or two ago, I was watching a BYU station. Garrett's dad was one of the guest for the program that aired. Garrett was still missing and as of this date has never been found. His dad spoke of the volunteer search and rescue program that he started shortly after Garrett was lost. He was grateful that this new program was in place in time for finding  Brennan. Volunteers were not allowed to search for Garrett and that had made difference in finding Brennan. I did not sense any bitterness in Garrett's dad, but gratitude that lost people in the Uintas and other wilderness areas had a better chance of being found.

A Memorable 4th of July Weekend

Ten years three of my siblings,  their families and I vacationed just outside of Florence, Oregon. Those who went had a good time. When it was time to leave on that Saturday, Vanessa commented that she didn't want to leave. I had to agree with her. It had been such a peaceful time in the campground and we had all enjoyed ourselves.  We traveled that Thursday, the 4th from Olympia and Poulsbo, Washington. (Jay and I flew into Seattle from Salt Lake earlier.) One our first activities was to check out the Oregon Sand Dunes, which had a lake (or maybe it was a large pond) that bordered the dunes. Most of the younger people could not avoid the water. Maybe it was too hot (but not as hot as Utah) or some Boice-Jacksons have a strong attraction to noticeable sizes of bodies of water. Puddles and water lapping at the river bank tempted Laura's boys even at Thanksgiving  time. After our brief activity and dinner, we went into Florence to see the fireworks. The fireworks took place on a river which emptied into the Pacific Ocean a short distance away. We had a good view of the fireworks, but without the view of the river. That was okay, it was just as good as if we seen the fireworks at Sugarhouse park. The next day was spent sand boarding and some hiking. There was a spot on top of the hills where one could see the ocean. We also had a picnic at a beach north of the campground. Some of us took a tour of the Heceta Head Lighthouse. Early Saturday morning we ate breakfast and packed up. Along the way we checked out another beach. Only Skylar, Vanessa and her cousin, Moki ventured out into the ocean. Maybe is their fathers' side of the family that causes this attraction, but I doubt it. My siblings and I would play in the ditches during the summer. We arrived back in Olympia and Poulsbo that evening and we greeted with rain the next day. Jay and I didn't mind the rain, but residents of Poulsbo were sick of it. Western Washington is known for it's year round rain festival. That late rainy Sunday afternoon we boarded our flight back to hot dry Utah. John picked us up at the airport that evening. As he was driving us home, I felt the hot breeze and I wanted to turn the car around and head back to Seattle. But I have  to admit it was good to be home.

Old Grocery list

A few months, the zipper pull on my purse broke. So when I got home that night I dug out my old cross pack that I used when I volunteered at the Salt Lake Oympics in 2002.I found this grocery list. milk 1% & whole (1/2)     2% (1/2) bread (2 loaves whole wheat) 5 lb beef minute rice 2 can cream of celery (fat free) frozen potatoes (diced hash brown) 2 cream mushroom w/ roasted garlic 2 (16 oz.) frozen vegi   tortilla chips   What was I making? I have no clue. If you have any idea what I planned to with these food items please let me. I posted this from my Google app on my iPad as a test to see if this works.

It Got Personal

When the University of Utah joined the PAC12, I discovered a new rivalry. Dana loves his University of Washington Huskies (which he lovingly calls his Dawgs) and I love my Utes. Lucky for both of us, our teams met in the first season. I sent Dana Utah paraphernalia to him and his daughters. He threatened to send me Washington paraphernalia, but I never received it. Last week (the third week of June) the Campus Store had their annual sidewalk and I bought some items on clearance. I got so caught up in the rivalry; I put sticky notes on one of my favorite picture. I don't think his daughters care one way or others about their Dad's Dawgs or their Auntie's Utes. I just have to give Dana cain. The three arrows are pointing to all his daughters, even Mo who was a year away from making her earthy debut.

My Perfect Morning

As I was walking around campus this Wednesday morning, I thought of My Perfect Morning.  It is still June and is somewhat cool in the mid morning hours.  I wrote this five years ago when another morning walk on campus during June inspired this musing.

 

My Perfect Morning

The picture I had vision in high school was a not-so-fresh cut lawn (which was already raked of excess grass clippings).  I painted the sky a pale yellow, with a hint of a pale baby blue.  The sun is no longer on the horizon, but it is somewhere in the sky where it doesn't bother my eyes. 

When I walked this past week on the University of Utah campus, I remember that painting.  (I can't remember if I actually painted it or just visualized the painting)  Except this time, I feel the freshness of the morning.  I imagine the temperature to a bit warmer, because it my vision of a perfect morning, I am wearing short sleeves and a modest pair of shorts.  I picture myself being ten or twelve years old, but this time my red hair is just past my shoulders and not just to my chin. A white stretch cotton headband is keeping my hair out of my face. I've decided this morning takes place in the early summer, probably Memorial Weekend.  I am sitting on a park bench that swings; it has a canopy that invisible to the naked eye.  The sun is allowed to shine on my back and I am allowed to see the pale yellow sky with a hint of pale baby blue color lurking behind it.  My flip-flops are discarded on grass in front of me.  And maybe I have a good book in my lap.  (To Kill A Mockingbird or A Separate Peace).  If I am drinking something, it is a glass of juice, probably a combination of grape, apple and cranberry flavors.  I am at peace and just enjoying the moment.  It is quiet and no one else is around.  If my mom is up, she is the house, doing whatever she pleases.  My dad is out in the field, working hard and soon will come in for breakfast.  So I guess my mom isn't doing what she pleases, because she probably fixing breakfast.  This moment won't last long, because soon I will be called to eat, the sun will get higher in the sky and the day will get warmer.  The freshness of the morning will disappear and cares of the world will sneak in once more.  I will remember my perfect morning as I attend to all the daily demands of an adult.

Pat on the Back

I saw this postcard or whatever you want to call on Facebook. Sad to say, I laughed. But then I got to thinking about this postcard in a different light. At the first of the month, I attended a session on change while I was at work.  It inspired my first post for May. This month brought some changes, not so much in my own life, but in others.  This postcard began to take on a different meaning. Sometimes we have to take a big pat (shove) on the back to motivate us to change because it usually isn't what we want, but something that will make us a better person. But I have to admit, I like what a 13 year old Laura said thirty something years ago, ”Sometimes it would be nice to receive blessings that aren't in disguise."

Memorial Day

Memorial Day was first observed sometime in the 19^th century as a way to honor Union soldiers who had perished in the Civil War. It eventually came to be a day of observance for all those who died serving our country; I hope that includes the Confederate soldiers who died serving a nation that was temporarily divided.  In 1971, it was moved to the last Monday in May. It was until recently I noticed that Memorial Day was for those who died serving our country or died in the line of duty.

My first impression of Memorial Day was 1^st unofficial day of summer. In Minidoka County, school got out just before Memorial Day. I really didn’t know why Memorial Day was celebrated; I just knew it was a holiday. Our family didn’t visit the cemetery in Paul or any other city in the Mini-Cassia area. Mom prepared a picnic and we ate on the front lawn as we swatted and slapped away the flies who thought the feast was for them. After a few years in Salt Lake, I would hear people talk about leaving flowers on graves of family members on Memorial Day. I think I always knew that Memorial Day was day of remembrance, because I wasn’t surprised that visiting graves was an activity for this holiday.  Somewhere in my subconscious, my mother or one of my teachers told me what Memorial Day really was.  It wasn’t the1^st Official Day of Summer Vacation and isn’t National BBQ & Picnic Day.

I can’t think of anyone in my family, including extended family members who died while serving their country. My dad served in Alaska during World War II. His name is on a monument along a highway in Conejos County in Colorado. When my dad died, my cousin, Bryant showed up in his Marine uniform. Bryant’s brother, William also served in the military.  Bryant’s daughter, Courtney is active duty somewhere in the world. Quite a few of my high school classmates have served in the military. Uncle Charley and Great-Grandma Boice were the first relatives I remember passing on. My parents didn’t go to my mom’s grandma’s funeral, but they did go to Uncle Charley. I don’t really remember much of them and I am not sure if I had met them.  We lived in Idaho and they lived in Colorado and New Mexico. Gas wasn’t cheap then either and farming left no time for vacations.

The first relative’s passing that had an affect on me was my cousin, Edward, Bryant’s older brother. For a time, Edward and Bryant’s family lived in Blackfoot and we would visit when time allowed. A few months before Edward died; he came home from Ricks College with my brother, Mike. I saw a quieter version of my cousin. He was kind and thoughtful. This was the last time I saw him. So on this Memorial Day, I remember him and yes, I miss him. Edward was a good man. Since Edward; there have been others, my dad, my mom’s parents, some uncles and aunts, even another cousin.  My mom’s siblings are still living, but my dad’s siblings are gone, except for my Aunt Wilma, who married a Jackson. Each has touched my life. Uncle Herb was kind and taught me thru his example of how thoughtful and resourceful Japanese people are. My Aunt Isabelle was charitable person.  She opened her home to my mom’s sibling when my Grandpa Boice died.  Jackson’s are just like that. I miss Paul, even though I only met him as a child. He is teaching me understanding and to be non judgmental of others now.

So this Memorial Day, I remember those who have passed on, even if they didn’t serve in the military. They deserve recognition on this day.

Skylar & Applesauce

When my nephew, Skylar was 18 months old, Jay and I spent the week in Western Washington babysitting him and his brothers, while their parents were on a cruise somewhere nice and warm.  Laura had applesauce in the cupboard, which was one of my favorite breakfast foods. One morning I was holding Skylar in my lap while I ate my breakfast. I gave a spoonful to Skylar and then I took another spoonful. I might have given Skylar a few more spoonfuls. The next morning I did the same, but I had to give more to Skylar. Apparently he was to have every other spoonful. If I took a spoonful out of turn he let me know in no uncertain terms that I was out of line. When Laura and Bill got home from their cruise, I had to them that their baby was addicted to applesauce. Never let your sister babysit your wee one for a extended time. (see earlier post - Oh Peas No)

Return to Honor

On Friday when I was helping out at the Race for the Cure, I stopped by the Merchandise Booth, since I knew I would want to do some shopping.  I noticed the “Co-survivor pin” and I thought of my niece, Tracina. If anyone deserves that pin, it is her.  When my sister, her mom, Mary got breast cancer almost seven years, Tracina was there for her. Tracina just had her second daughter, Isabella at the end of March. My niece, along with other family members, was there at the hospital when Mary had her surgery to remove the cancerous tumor. Tracina helped take care of her parents and her siblings that October.  Quite a few pictures were taken during the time, but the one that says it the most (for me) is the one where Tracina is washing her mother’s hair. Because of the surgery, my sister could not lift her arms. What a wonderful way to honor her mother; to return the kind acts of service rendered in her behalf as she grew up.

A Mother's Heart

This morning I logged on to Facebook, I saw my friend, Jeannie’s post that made me pause when she wrote “Whether you have given birth, adopted, nuture the neighborhood children, are a step mom....if you have a Mother's Heart you are a Mother.” I thanked her for posting this, because it reminded me of my Aunt Gladys, who never had the chance to be a mother, but has loved and cared for her neices and nephews. This post prompted me to post something on my wall or timeline. ”To all the Aunties out there. Happy Mother's Day. I'm fortunate to have had my Aunt Gladys who never got the chance to raise a child of her own, but always looks after her nieces and nephews. She thinks of us in our times of need. She is there for us even when our moms are there for us too. Thanks for setting example of great aunthood, Gladys.”

Like Jeannie said Aunt Gladys has a Mother’s Heart. When Jay and I were buying our condo, she gave us words of wisdom. Aunt Gladys encourages us to do temple work by sharing her research with her neices and nephews. She was heart broken when our cousin, Paul suddenly died this spring. Aunt Gladys makes an effort to keep in touch with all (I hope) nephews and nieces. My brothers and I usually get a Christmas gift from her. I doubt we are the only ones who are remember at Christmas. We are the children she shares with our parents. Her example has taught me how to reach to my neices and nephews. Aunt Gladys lets me know that Mother’s Day isn’t just for Mothers who raised children, but all women who have cared for the children who have passed thru their lives. As Jeannie said “....if you have a Mother's Heart you are a Mother.”
*The picture is the brownie that all the woman in my ward got today. I believe that most women have a Mother's Heart* 

Crystal & Race for the Cure

In 2004, Crystal walked her first Race For The Cure. She walked for her Grandma Bee, who was a survivor.  When I told her brother, David that she was walking her 1^st 5K at the tender age of nine (she was actually two shy of being ten), he told me that I would have to carry her across the finish, if not most of the race. I picked up the t-shirts and bibs before the race. Crystal spent the night before the race at my condo and early the next morning we rode Trax. When we got to the Gateway, Crystal filled out her “I race in celebration of” and then had me pin her bib and card on the back of her t-shirt. She was walking for her Grandma Bee. I wore my bib in front and my cards in the back.  I was walking for Crystal’s Grandma too and my cousin’s neighbor who had been recently diagnosed with cancer. I was also walking in memory of Dixie Crystal, who was the reason I started walking the Race for the Cure years before.  About the time Dixie died of breast cancer, I got a pamphlet in the mail inviting to race in the Susan G. Komen (probably because I done the Salt Lake Classic).  Even though I didn’t wear a card at that time, I walked in her memory. Dixie was a teacher aid in high school and we grew up in the same ward. During the race I had Crystal call Grandma Bee on my cellphone and when we crossed the finish line, I had Crystal call David to tell him of her accomplishment.  Even when we got home, Mark, another brother, couldn’t believe she walked the whole 3.1 miles in less than an hour. I like to think that Grandma Bee got Crystal to the finish line, but then Crystal is no quitter. Besides, she had to prove all of her brothers wrong.

Crystal and I walked again the next year, but we didn’t walk together again until two years after that.  In 2007, Crystal not walked for Grandma Bee, but her Mom also. I walked for my sister, who just either finishing or just finished cancer treatments. When Crystal found her Mom was a survivor, she was bent and determined to run the Race for the Cure, but since Mom and most of her sisters were walking, Crystal had to walk the whole 5K. 

Due to a busy life, that was Crystal’s last Race for the Cure. She has since ran a few Salt Lake Half-Marathons and a few other races. But if she ever decides to do the Salt Lake Race for the Cure, I doubt her brothers will question her ability to run the whole 3.1 miles. After all she endured 13 miles.