Blow Out Through Your Nose

Lego Truck Wars with Aiden and Parker Olsen

I love that history can repeat itself.
My son and daughter-in-law are spending this weekend on their sixth wedding anniversary. Maybe 5th or 7th.  must be seventh.. Each year Cody spends time and doodles, photo shops pictures in a unique way as a gift to Kimberly. I see six on the wall, & I saw the one he is giving her tonight. I digress.
I wanted to give them a chance to get away, if they wanted. Caveat was they had to take Laney. Stranger Danger era. So, while they spend a night almost alone, I have had a time of my life with grandsons Parker and Aiden. Pizza, Movies, Lego Car Wars, and even baked chocolate chip cookies. Man things. What fun.
Here is History repeating itself.
Lori used to laugh and share the story about when she was a young girl her parents went out for the night. One of siblings, I think it was her sister, stuck pinto beans up her nose and breathed in. Panic! Can't breath! Call for help!
Well, while I was in the kitchen working on the cookies, smell yummy chocolate here, the boys were working on their assignment -- pick up the Legos so was could watch a movie. Panic voice. Crying, "Aiden stuck a Lego up his nose!" Bloody nose from picking at it. What is a Grandpa to do? Chuckle. :)
Calm down Aiden. Get in my lap. Blow real hard into the tissue. No, blow through your NOSE real hard. Chuckle. Let's clean up your face. Chuckle
You know, in some cosmic sense, I knew exactly what to do because of that humorous story Lori would share.
Jammies, a couple of stories, "Little bunny Fru Fru" sung, and prayers, the boys are sound asleep. Now in the quiet of the evening, I have a story to share with Aiden when he gets to be old enought to embarrass him in front of some girl friend.. Chuckle, chuckle. Why wait until he is that old. Chuckle Chuckle

Will this snow ever stop?

This on is kinda off the cuff. I'm sitting here in my apartment in good old downtown Salt Lake City watching the snow fall. April and snow aren't so uncommon bedfellows. I have been around long enough (old man reference) to have seen snow in April. And May. And June. And July.
I am grateful for the snow-pack. Regret I didn't get to the ski hills this year. But I have had a few experiences with late snow.
As a very young lad, I was with the Olsen and Kirkman clans in the Cedar Breaks park in July when it decided to snow. Between the two families there were  10 kids under 12. We had set up camp, and being the bright boys we were, Stephen and I had set up a big tent, with our father's help, right in the middle of what became a river (exaggeration here) after a freak summer snow storm. Wet, cold, crying ( the girls) we broke camp and found a motel that had a few rooms available. We speak of it today whenever we gather as part of the OK Family reunion. (Olsen-Kirkman)
I also remember the first year I had a job working at a Boy Scout summer camp. I had a job on the waterfront staff at Camp Steiner. Probably 1969. anyway, We were all ready to get into camp the week before the first actual week of camp, to set up, and prepare. The Council canceled the first week of camp because of snow. There was still too much of it to gain access. The camp is in the Unita Mountains, near Mirror Lake. Even then, when we did get into camp we had to shovel snow away from some of the cabins and sheds. As part of the waterfront staff, it was my job to help build the floating docks. The lake is glacier fed. Snow is it's only source. It was coooooooold! Loved it. I was only one of a few that qualified for their
Swimmers Buddy Tag the first week out!
I know there are other spring snow stories in my past, but I have regaled you with enough today. Enjoy the water this summer!!

The lights are still on at the church!

I recently made an off-hand comment on face book about the late sunset of the second day of Daylight Savings. I commented how nice it was to be past 7 p.m. and still be light outside.
My niece, a young mother of two beautiful girls, replied “you don’t have children to put to bed!”
NO I DON’T!! Lucky me. I remember those days. Trying to convince  young children that despite the light, it really was night time and time for bed. AND, it only gets worse as the summer wears on and it remains light until 9:00 and beyond.
I don’t rightly remember what I did as a parent. I know I was usually covering a meeting for the city council, or county, or a ball game at the school. OR, I was selling something across the kitchen table, or drawing circles on a whiteboard. It probably wasn’t fair, but that’s the way it worked out. I know we had to beg, bribe, compromise, and often wear the kids out so they dropped in their tracks.
Daylight Savings isn’t kind to young parents.
My mother reminds me that I had a curfew delegated by some fancy spotlights at the church at the end of the street. There were three  large spotlights that lit up the steeple. They would turn on at dusk. When I was a little, little kid, probably the range of my niece’s girls, my mother said she compromised one March evening that I had to come to bed when the lights turned on. That was good enough for me. I remember checking the lights when I heard her call to come in. “the lights aren’t on yet,” would be an occasional reply.
I learned what a great compromise I had made as the dark nights of winter rolled into the long nights of Daylight Savings summer. She would call, at what should have been a decent bedtime anytime of the year, and I could yell back, “the lights aren’t on yet!” Trapped, she had to let me stay out to play “kick-the-can” or “No Bears Are Out Tonight.” (I know many of the yunguns have no idea, but these were elaborate games of tag.)
Oh yea, the long days of summer. Only problem was those games of kick-the-can turned into nights to mow the lawn, pull the weeds in the garden, and other adult-type chores.
There was those summers in Arizona. Late-night softball tournaments. Mmmm, the memories of long summer nights.
__________________________
Photos: Granddaughter Faye is learning to read. She does a pretty good job for a three-year-old.
Parker had his Fifth ( Yes 5) birthday party. Big piece of Red Robin Mud Pie!

This ought to be a no-brainer

Where should I go to get help about using the resources of the LDS Church as well as the internet, youtube, and more should probably be the internet, right?
During the past four years I have been an very "non-participating" active member of my church. I am LDS, so going to church is a "high priority" for my future "desitnation." :) I coined a phrase many years ago about people who were "less active" in church going -- but still had testimonies of their beliefs -- as "non-participating" rather than a more cruel "inactive". For the past four years I have faithfully attended church, but have sat on my hands in auxiliary classes, kept my voice silent and have primarily sat in a seat challenging others to dare to get to know me. In fact, I even had someone ask me "do you dare teach a class?" To which I challenged "do you dare ask me?"
It was right after this I approached a member of my Stake Presidency to "mentor" me. I asked that we meet once a month outside of our regular assignment and discuss the gospel. Our first month we assigned each other to study the prayers of Book of Mormon prophets.. This was a revealing exercise. This brought a discussion as to how the LDS Church is embracing the internet. It has launched several websites, initiatives, and allows people like me to blog about my beliefs without trying to proof-read what I share.
I have made a new friend -- MMM Middleage Mormon Man http://middle-agedmormonman.blogspot.com    and I know there are others out there. Looking at many of my posts, they have a refective, religious tone about them. Anyway, Between now and March 6 I am doing some research -- so if you can share with me, I would love to give you credit when i turn in my report. Until then -- Be grateful for all you have, who you know and where you are!

Lesson on Reverence - Past and Present

Today, January 23, 2011 was Grandpa Day. I’m not writing about this exactly, just to say it has been a long time since this Dad, (whether in Dad or Granddad form) got to put a little baby to sleep. Usually mom or Grandma slip in to take over. Let’s just say today was a pleasure.
Now, on to my story.

Lori and I were asked to watch Parker, Aiden and Laney while their mom and dad, (Cody and Kimberly) spoke in church. Kim lead off, speaking on REVERENCE. What a topic for a mother of two wonderfully curious and competitive boys 4 and 3. I’m sure 5-month old Laney doesn’t count.
Anyway, Kim shared with the congregation her desire to teach her boys the power of reverence, and the sacredness of the chapel. She shared a exerpt from a talk about another mothers’ experience of taking her children, dressed in Sunday attire, into the chapel on a different day than Sunday. Kim saw an opportunity to teach her boys a similar lesson in REVERENCE. She reported that she donned a skirt, and dressed Parker, Aiden, and Laney in their Sunday outfits, and with supportive Cody in tow, went to the church, and entered the empty chapel.
Here they had a short discussion about the proper spirit and attitude of the room, the service and the need for REVERENCE.
It brought back memories when Lori, fit to be tied with two young boys, probably no older than these two grandsons, tried a similar tactic to elicit REVERENCE. Lori got the idea of “Practicing Church” . I can’t remember how often they practiced, but I know it was more than once. The boys would sit and face the window wall and have to be quiet for 15 minutes at a stretch. I think the 15 minutes represented the time between the opening song and the Sacrament service. I can’t remember.
All I know is it made an impact on them. Not that they were suddenly “perfect examples of REVERENCE, but it has been a great “do you remember when mom made us practice church” story when the kids gather together or when they are comparing the atrocities that their parents made them suffer as children.
I admire the efforts that mothers go to in order to teach their boys the power of reverence.
I  don’t remember practicing church when I was a child, but I know my mom had her hands full.
Here’s to all the moms in the world as they work to teach the little children~!!!

Holiday Memories

So, at this count I have had 55 Christmases. Not that I can remember them all, but since it is a bit quite around her, it is kind of fun to see what Christmases I do remember. And, actually, I remember many more Christmas seasons than I thought I would. You see, I don’t really remember very many details from past history.
If you were to ask me my favorite gifts from the past I would tell you I have two fond memories. Two simple gifts that come to mind with warm memories.
The first happened while we lived in Twin Falls.  I can’t remember if it was 1986 or 1987, but it was the year that Lori surprised my with a song she had written. I don’t remember the words. It was a pleasant tune, and she had a difficult time singing it amongst the tears. I loved it that she really gave of herself, as difficult as it was. That memory jumps out first.
The second favorite gift I received just two or three years ago. Lori gave me a simple square glass candy jar full of mints. Butter mints, chocolate mints, peppermint and spearmint candy filled the jar. I love soft mints to eat at church as  opposed to chewing gum. Keeps the breath “minty fresh”! However, I admit I can eat them too quickly, which makes me cough, and I am sure embarrassed the heck out of Lori.
I digress.
The best part of the gift is that she promised to keep the jar full of mints for one full year. No easy feat, but she did it. I still have the jar, and I now struggle to keep it full of mints.
Perhaps the most misunderstood gift I ever received was the year I received a blood pressure monitor. I came to learn that it was a way that Lori was telling me that she loved me and was concerned about me. I still have that gift as well. I even use it a couple of days a week.
I have many memories from before my marriage. I was lucky enough to get a Fiat hatchback when I turned 16. My dad had cast a car and a key in some sort of resin and put it under the tree. When I opened the gift, my parents opened the curtains and there is it was, a Fiat with a big red bow. I remember the year I got a Springbar Tent, a five-speed banana seat bicycle, skis, and other things. I remember way back when I was entertained by boxes, when stacked together made a store and a post office, It included pretend dry goods to sell, a cash register and even pretend coins.
There was the year that I heard banging all night long. My dad had put together a train track with buildings and trees and  mountains. Must of taken him all night long.
I remember doing similar activities. Like the year I painted a bicycle for Bret, snuck in gerbils and all the fixing’s so the boys might still believe in Santa. After all,  mom would never allow such a gift, so there must be a Santa.
Then, there are the trips to Pine Valley for the holidays. That is another blog.
Merry Christmas. May fond memories spring to mind when you look back.

It is okay to speak to strangers

I’m sure this will be for me more than you, but I hope you learn and don’t repeat my mistakes. I have a mentor who says “Rules are made to keep other people out of the way.”
He shares this along with the concept that rules don’t apply to him because he doesn’t want to be limited to another’s beliefs. Before you try to peg him a an anarchist,  he isn’t that at all. He is a loving, caring individual. He just learned to not accept limiting-beliefs. He works his hardest with me to see the error of my ways.
I don’t know where some of my limiting beliefs come from. Many I have set up myself. I have made rules that I felt I had to live by.
For instance, my daughter always struggled with my inquisitive nature when she was in high school. I wanted to know how her day ways, her friends, thoughts. She would complain that I asked too many questions. So, I made a rule with her. “No more than three questions.” It seemed to work. We’d often joke that I had my three questions, she could go on with her day un-bothered. It seemed to worked.
Now that she is grown, and on her own, I find it hard to visit with her on the phone. I am limited to asking three questions. Or so my belief tells me. We can go weeks without talking. Thank goodness for face book. I am suffering from my rule --  my limiting belief.
I wonder how many times I grew up believing an adult’s  reprimand, “You only get one.” or “You’re the oldest, so you need to share with everyone else first.” I wonder how many times I have set rules from my children, limited their belief, in a similar way, an innocent statement.
Lori and I worked hard to allow our children to explore, within reason, their talents, interests, abilities. But, looking back, I wonder how many times I set a rule that didn’t really apply to anything. A rule that wasn’t really a rule. Limiting their belief without knowing it.
It’s like the rule “Don’t talk to strangers.” Parents drill this into their kids. Teachers tell the kids to be quiet and only speak when spoken to, or raise their hand for permission to speak.
No wonder the number one fear most adults face is “public speaking“. No one ever pulled their child aside at age  19 or 21, and say “It’s now ok to speak to strangers.”
I help facilitate a simulator, a game really, that has no rules. Not that there isn’t a pattern to playing the game, but one of the first concepts I teach with this game is that “you don’t have to wait for someone else to be successful before you can be.” Players who understand what I say, start rolling the dice and moving as fast as they can.
That’s the rule I am living in 2011. I am not going to allow my limiting beliefs limit me. The rules that I believe exist to keep me in my place aren’t really rules. I hope my children don’t wait until they are my age (55) to discover their limiting beliefs. AND, if I put those beliefs there, I  truly sorry. I give them permission to “talk to strangers.”