It seems that we often have weird experiences when we are visiting a city and our recent visit to San Francisco was no exception. Dad had just parked the car and was putting money in the meter when a man holding branches in front of his face quietly walked up behind him and stood very close to him, branches covering him. Dad wasn't aware that the man was so close but I was and my first thought was that he was about to pick dad's pocket. I stepped forward so I could look behind dad and see exactly what the man was doing. As it turned out he was just standing there holding these leafy branches with both hands directly in front of his face. Weird I thought! So I told dad that someone was waiting to surprise him, dad turned around and the man said, "You can always count on the wife to spoil things!" He walked off and we laughed about how strange that was.
A little later we were walking near the wharf and noticed that the customers of an outdoor cafe were all looking across the street and laughing uproariously. We stopped to see what was so funny and there he was, the man with the branches. He was squatted down by a garbage can branches covering him and would occaisonally move the branches away from him face and make a scarey noise at passersby. They in turn would shreik in fear and surprise and the crowd would laugh and clap. The entertained would in turn give him money.
Well I just found a video of him on You Tube and wanted to share it with you. It was pretty funny and actually and pretty creative way to panhandle!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRxVS2f9i4o
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Happy Mother's Day to All!!
Not sure who wrote this but I loved it, it's all so true. Enjoy!!:
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves.
Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now . Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.
What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.
Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too. Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking? But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs.There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense; matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves.
Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now . Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.
What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.
Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too. Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking? But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs.There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense; matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
The Book
I recently finished reading The Book of Mormon. It's certainly not the first time I have read this book nor will it be the last, in fact I've already started reading it again. But it has been the time that has impressed me the most.
I have been teaching Book of Mormon at the Institute. Perhaps that has in part been why I have been so profoundly affected this time. My class was made up of returned missionaries and a new member. I felt totally overwhelmed and so I tried to study hard and prepare as well as I could. I was often guided to sources of information that helped me more than I could have ever done on my own. My students were willing to share and discuss and to help me and it was a great experience.
I am so profoundly greatful for this book! As an English major I've read many, many books and I continue to read as much as I can. I have many books that I love and reread all or parts of often. I've had the experience many, many times of feeling a sense of loss and sadness when a book comes to the end. I want some of them to go on forever. And many of the books I've read have become a part of me, I've learned important lessons that I refer to often. The Book of Mormon is the best of all of the books I have ever read and is at the top of my favorite books list.
As we were coming to the last chapters of Moroni I felt such a profound sense of sadness that this book was ending. Part of my feelings had to do with the very sad situation that existed for those people in the book but a larger part had to do with the fact that the wisdom and light that had become a daily part of my life was about to end. For that reason I decided to start reading again immediately. Although the book was written long, long ago it is so current in its messages for us today. And so often as I was reading I experienced both the sweet, peaceful feelings that come with knowing of its truthfulness and the strong and almost overwhelming feelings that come when the Spirit fairly shouts "This book is true!"
I am thankful beyond words that I have The Book of Mormon. I know that it is true, that it is indeed a second witness of Jesus Christ, and that it contains the fulness of His Gospel.
I have been teaching Book of Mormon at the Institute. Perhaps that has in part been why I have been so profoundly affected this time. My class was made up of returned missionaries and a new member. I felt totally overwhelmed and so I tried to study hard and prepare as well as I could. I was often guided to sources of information that helped me more than I could have ever done on my own. My students were willing to share and discuss and to help me and it was a great experience.
I am so profoundly greatful for this book! As an English major I've read many, many books and I continue to read as much as I can. I have many books that I love and reread all or parts of often. I've had the experience many, many times of feeling a sense of loss and sadness when a book comes to the end. I want some of them to go on forever. And many of the books I've read have become a part of me, I've learned important lessons that I refer to often. The Book of Mormon is the best of all of the books I have ever read and is at the top of my favorite books list.
As we were coming to the last chapters of Moroni I felt such a profound sense of sadness that this book was ending. Part of my feelings had to do with the very sad situation that existed for those people in the book but a larger part had to do with the fact that the wisdom and light that had become a daily part of my life was about to end. For that reason I decided to start reading again immediately. Although the book was written long, long ago it is so current in its messages for us today. And so often as I was reading I experienced both the sweet, peaceful feelings that come with knowing of its truthfulness and the strong and almost overwhelming feelings that come when the Spirit fairly shouts "This book is true!"
I am thankful beyond words that I have The Book of Mormon. I know that it is true, that it is indeed a second witness of Jesus Christ, and that it contains the fulness of His Gospel.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Another side of Bear
Oh that feels soooooooo good. I'm so sorry that I bit you, thank you for being so nice to me in spite of my bad humor!!
Sunday, May 4, 2008
He's Gone!
It seems that the last four months have really flown by, first Marc came - somewhat reluctantly. And then it was time for him to go - somewhat reluctantly, my words. We took Marc out to eat for his last supper at a good Mexican restaurant. Great food, fun time. He even got up really early(5:00 am) on his last morning, May 3, to go play racquetball with dad and dad's friends. We drove him to Tulsa to catch his flight and said a sad goodbye!!Today as I was sitting in Church I realized how much a part of the congregation and our lives Marc has been. There is definitely an empty spot where he used to be.
We miss you Marc!!
Merrill comes to Arkansas
Well, the photos aren't the greatest but at least they'll give you an idea! We had a great time with Uncle Merrill. He spent a lot of time working with WalMart and a lot of time with us. We showed him the town, laughed a lot, ate a lot, and just enjoyed being together. We even made it through a pretty severe storm, although we didn't know it at the time. We just woke up very early hearing the winding blowing like crazy, lots of thunder and lightning, and heavy rain. We were fine though.
It was a great visit!!
May 1 and 34 Years
Hard to believe it's May already and harder to believe that we've been married 34 years! As you can see we got roses, roses, and more roses. Thanks to Merrill who had them shipped from Ecuador for his appointment with WalMart we were the recipients of over 125 roses of a variety of colors. They are absolutely gorgeous. 34 years ago on May 1 dad and I were married in the Provo Temple at 12:00 noon. Little did we dream all that the future had in store for us. It has been a great life. There have been many, many good times and some bad times too. But they have all combined to make a wonderful life. Even the bad times have made us stronger and wiser and more humble and more dependent on Heavenly Father. I would never have guessed that we'd live in Minnesota for 23 years, in Iowa too and never, never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that Arkansas would be another home for us. And that we would really like it!
We have been blessed with 6 wonderful children, and 3 fantastic grandchildren. It has been wonderful!!
We're not sure what the future holds, but we're excited about it. Whatever it is and where ever we go it will be great as long as we have the Lord's confirmation and blessing. It has been so far!!
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