Friday, June 21, 2013
2:15 AM | Posted by
Unknown
We've known Bob since he was a little ball rolling around in his mamma's mouth; he is a real fighter. He was born as one of 200 or so baby Tilapia in our in-house fish tank. Feeding time was a free for all; those who ate the fastest grew the fastest. Life can be so competitive. Two days ago we decided that it was time to put the 50 or so living Tilapia out in the big fish tank. Most of the original fish had been eaten by our gold fish or by their own mamma. Bob was about three inches, healthy, and still growing fast.
He lasted about an hour in the big-boy tank. Elaine found him and fetched him in a sadder, but hopefully wiser fish. He must have seriously gotten up in someone's grill, because he is now only two inches long, someone having very unceremoniously removed his entire tail assembly. As I watched him maneuver using side thrusters only, I decided that his name would be Bob, short for Bobtail. But that image grew to include a new profession - Little Bob's De-Tailing. Watching him scoot around the tank like a valiant little soldier, I had to wonder if they make little wheelchairs for the mobility impaired fish community. Oh stop me!
He lasted about an hour in the big-boy tank. Elaine found him and fetched him in a sadder, but hopefully wiser fish. He must have seriously gotten up in someone's grill, because he is now only two inches long, someone having very unceremoniously removed his entire tail assembly. As I watched him maneuver using side thrusters only, I decided that his name would be Bob, short for Bobtail. But that image grew to include a new profession - Little Bob's De-Tailing. Watching him scoot around the tank like a valiant little soldier, I had to wonder if they make little wheelchairs for the mobility impaired fish community. Oh stop me!
Friday, June 14, 2013
Some of us do not make close friends easily. I have one friend. We have been friends for more than 30 years. Next to my actual family he is my closest connection in this life. It has been 30 years since I last made a good, close friend. Sad to say.
Working with entrepreneurs who come and volunteer at our Center for a year has been a wonderful experience. One of the volunteers came in as Mr. Gruff and Grumpy, but after a while he discovered I had a sense of humor and he suddenly turned into Mr. Hilarity. I can see us becoming "besties." The only problem is that he has finished his year of service and is about to leave to go home to Utah. In this life there are certain realities that are extremely difficult to overcome. We walk in different social circles. Of necessity we would have to live in different parts of town. We have almost prohibitively different opportunities in life. He goes on vacation and cruises all over the world. I have to content myself to traveling from zone to zone in World of Warcraft. We do what we can afford to do.
He gives the kind of thought and care to writing a check with three zeros at the end of it that I give to writing the same check with one zero at the end. Let's face it, unless we actually sought each other out there is no coincidental place the two of us would ever meet each other. Once he leaves I will probably never see him again, unless he happens to fly back to Hawaii to visit where I work.
I finally have found a person who thinks and feels akin to my thoughts and feelings, but I can't be friends because we are not in the same social class. But I will be forever grateful that I met him and his wife, they are the absolute salt of the earth. Perhaps when we get into the next life and the playing field is a little more level we can be the friends this life prohibits us from becoming.
Working with entrepreneurs who come and volunteer at our Center for a year has been a wonderful experience. One of the volunteers came in as Mr. Gruff and Grumpy, but after a while he discovered I had a sense of humor and he suddenly turned into Mr. Hilarity. I can see us becoming "besties." The only problem is that he has finished his year of service and is about to leave to go home to Utah. In this life there are certain realities that are extremely difficult to overcome. We walk in different social circles. Of necessity we would have to live in different parts of town. We have almost prohibitively different opportunities in life. He goes on vacation and cruises all over the world. I have to content myself to traveling from zone to zone in World of Warcraft. We do what we can afford to do.
He gives the kind of thought and care to writing a check with three zeros at the end of it that I give to writing the same check with one zero at the end. Let's face it, unless we actually sought each other out there is no coincidental place the two of us would ever meet each other. Once he leaves I will probably never see him again, unless he happens to fly back to Hawaii to visit where I work.
I finally have found a person who thinks and feels akin to my thoughts and feelings, but I can't be friends because we are not in the same social class. But I will be forever grateful that I met him and his wife, they are the absolute salt of the earth. Perhaps when we get into the next life and the playing field is a little more level we can be the friends this life prohibits us from becoming.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
When I married Elaine I promised her that if I failed in all other aspects of life, I would always make her laugh. Today as we finished walking around the outside of the new Heber J. Grant building on campus, she thanked me for the tour of the new building. Since we really hadn't seen anything but the exterior, I assured her that it was my pleasure; tours about nothing are my specialty. She laughed.
As I turned to walk back to my office, I thought about the eventuality that the day will come when she has heard all my jokes, and my sense of humor is as at home in her head as it is in mine. What then? Will I still be able to make her laugh? Her laugh is precious to me, and I cast my mind into the waning years when two people who have been together a long time have grown accustomed to each other to the point that they are finishing each others' sentences, and know each other so well that they don't really need to ask what they think about something, because they already know how they will respond. What then?
I had a sweet realization come over me in the form of a hope that in that day Elaine will laugh because, even if I am not there, she will know what kind of quip I would come up with. I won't have to be Mr. Originality for her to find joy in my company. With time and age there seems come a peace, acceptance, and understanding that surpasses mere acquaintanceship with the other person that allows two people to be together in silence, in companionship or in company with others, and have them be completely at home with whatever comes out of their spouse's mouth.
Elaine has even begun to zing me on occasion. I find great joy in her sense of humor. I think the challenge of my life is to be changing and growing all the time, so that even when she thinks she knows me intimately I'll still be able to entertain her or take her by surprise in a new way.
As I turned to walk back to my office, I thought about the eventuality that the day will come when she has heard all my jokes, and my sense of humor is as at home in her head as it is in mine. What then? Will I still be able to make her laugh? Her laugh is precious to me, and I cast my mind into the waning years when two people who have been together a long time have grown accustomed to each other to the point that they are finishing each others' sentences, and know each other so well that they don't really need to ask what they think about something, because they already know how they will respond. What then?
I had a sweet realization come over me in the form of a hope that in that day Elaine will laugh because, even if I am not there, she will know what kind of quip I would come up with. I won't have to be Mr. Originality for her to find joy in my company. With time and age there seems come a peace, acceptance, and understanding that surpasses mere acquaintanceship with the other person that allows two people to be together in silence, in companionship or in company with others, and have them be completely at home with whatever comes out of their spouse's mouth.
Elaine has even begun to zing me on occasion. I find great joy in her sense of humor. I think the challenge of my life is to be changing and growing all the time, so that even when she thinks she knows me intimately I'll still be able to entertain her or take her by surprise in a new way.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
When I was a single father with four children life was hard. The Church would have nothing to do with me. The Primary wouldn't help me because there was no woman in the home, the Relief Society, the same. I had three girls, two of which were entering puberty, and no one to give me advice or take them under their wing and act as role model for them. The priesthood brethren were completely clueless. They would plan an activity at 6:30 in the evening and expect me to be there. I told them that I was commuting from SLC to Lehi and sometimes didn't get home until almost 7:00 p.m. because they were working on the roads at the time. Then I had to fix dinner, help with homework, clean house, get the kids ready for bed and still spend time with them so they felt like they had a parent and not just a housekeeper. Their response to my objection was, "just have your wife fix their dinner." Clueless to the end. The Church was my mainstay, and I was completely abandoned by all I had been raised to believe would be there for me in a time of trial.
Then there was the food or lack there of. I had to go each week to the Bishop's Storehouse to get food. My self esteem was so low at that time. I failed at everything. I couldn't braid my girls hair well enough for them to be seen in public; I couldn't earn enough for them to be able to do things at school, so they would lie to me or just tell me that nothing was happening so I wouldn't stress out when I couldn't afford the cost of their field trip or class activity. Instead they just stayed in the office while the others went on the excursion. That used to tear me up.
When I would go to the Storehouse for our food order I would go early so I could put in a couple of hours of work before they opened. I would move pallets, sweep floors, stock shelves, move boxes, and so forth. The amazing thing about the whole experience was those who worked in the Storehouse. I was always Bro. Merrill. There was always expressions of gratitude for the service I rendered. No one ever snubbed me or treated me as badly as I already felt about myself. Instead, I was constantly thanked and treated with the utmost kindness. They would ask my permission to ask me to do something that I "might" find objectionable. When we were finished with all the work, and it really was light work at that, one of the sisters would spend a couple of hours in the kitchen cooking a home-cooked meal for all the people who had come to the Storehouse that day. They made sure that we never left the Storehouse hungry. They cooked using the food they served to those picking up orders. It was always delicious and filling.
After lunch the Storehouse would open and I would help people fill their orders for a while before I had to leave to take my own order back home. On several occasions the Church employees would send me home with extra candy they had or an extra bag of nuts at Christmas, something that was above and beyond the actual order. They always made me feel like I was doing them a favor for taking it to my children.
To this day, a whole generation later, I cannot speak of my experience of the time I spent in the Bishop's Storehouse without weeping for the goodness those people showed me. At a time in my life when I could do no right, in the Bishop's Storehouse I could do no wrong. That experience has permanently shaped my view on charitable giving. I bless the Lord, and those people, and pray that I might be able to be that good to someone else and bless their life as those people blessed mine.
Then there was the food or lack there of. I had to go each week to the Bishop's Storehouse to get food. My self esteem was so low at that time. I failed at everything. I couldn't braid my girls hair well enough for them to be seen in public; I couldn't earn enough for them to be able to do things at school, so they would lie to me or just tell me that nothing was happening so I wouldn't stress out when I couldn't afford the cost of their field trip or class activity. Instead they just stayed in the office while the others went on the excursion. That used to tear me up.
When I would go to the Storehouse for our food order I would go early so I could put in a couple of hours of work before they opened. I would move pallets, sweep floors, stock shelves, move boxes, and so forth. The amazing thing about the whole experience was those who worked in the Storehouse. I was always Bro. Merrill. There was always expressions of gratitude for the service I rendered. No one ever snubbed me or treated me as badly as I already felt about myself. Instead, I was constantly thanked and treated with the utmost kindness. They would ask my permission to ask me to do something that I "might" find objectionable. When we were finished with all the work, and it really was light work at that, one of the sisters would spend a couple of hours in the kitchen cooking a home-cooked meal for all the people who had come to the Storehouse that day. They made sure that we never left the Storehouse hungry. They cooked using the food they served to those picking up orders. It was always delicious and filling.
After lunch the Storehouse would open and I would help people fill their orders for a while before I had to leave to take my own order back home. On several occasions the Church employees would send me home with extra candy they had or an extra bag of nuts at Christmas, something that was above and beyond the actual order. They always made me feel like I was doing them a favor for taking it to my children.
To this day, a whole generation later, I cannot speak of my experience of the time I spent in the Bishop's Storehouse without weeping for the goodness those people showed me. At a time in my life when I could do no right, in the Bishop's Storehouse I could do no wrong. That experience has permanently shaped my view on charitable giving. I bless the Lord, and those people, and pray that I might be able to be that good to someone else and bless their life as those people blessed mine.
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