tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23489446436401262822024-02-20T02:17:31.634-08:00kents spaceKenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-84940511315536556632012-11-14T16:35:00.000-08:002012-11-14T16:35:21.852-08:00Cats<span class="userContent">A few months back, we had a sweet little old lady join us in our mission. I would guess that she's probably in her early seventies.<br /> Yesterday at our planning meeting she had a story to tell. It seems that she loves cats and that for many years she has been feeding some feral cats. There's a big tree in a field and there, she has built little shelters for them. She said that she is currently feeding 14 cats.<br /> This past weekend was very stormy and that didn't stop her. She said that as she was returning from the field, that a car stopped and two cute girls got out. They asked her if she was the one that takes care of the cats and she responded that she was. The girls said they would like to help and each of them gave her a one inch stack of bills. (she later counted 150 $1 bills) She thanked the girls and asked what they did to earn the money. They responded that they were pole dancers and strippers.<br /> The little old lady said to us at our meeting, "you know where those bills have been"</span>Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-21923315965586589232012-11-05T05:55:00.002-08:002012-11-05T05:55:57.146-08:00Tranquility<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_5097c4412903a9914449066">
<span class="userContent">After dropping Nan and Les off for a race, I finished my chores and headed to my favorite therapy spot. As I headed east towards the canyon, I noticed how all the mountains were gold and red. My favorite spot is a bench about two minutes down the Granite Quarry Trail. It has a great view of the mountains across the canyon and you can hear the babble of the creek below. Today the temperature wa<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><div class="text_exposed_show">
s mild and I was comfortable wearing a jacket. I only stayed for 30 minutes and although there were a few cars at the trailhead, I only saw one person while sitting on my bench. It was so peaceful and the soft breeze carried a promise of warming with it. Looking at the rugged canyon with the high cliffs and being surrounded by the colorful trees, it's hard to imagine that there was once a little town there while the quarry was in operation. I've always loved Spring the best, but this year with all the colors and with my favorite bench on the trail, I've come to realize that perhaps Fall if fast becoming my favorite time of year.</div>
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Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-21260284990748257992012-03-12T07:49:00.000-07:002012-03-12T07:49:54.488-07:00The BridgeDuring the spring of 1983, we lived in a nice neighborhood in Sandy. We had always liked the neighborhood, partly because of the location, but also because of our LDS ward. The people there were more than neighbors. They were truly brothers and sisters. They loved one another and showed it by their actions.<br />
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There was a family in our ward with young daughter that had been sick for a long time and wasn't expected to live much longer. We, along with other neighbors, did the usual thing...take in meals, offer assistance when needed etc.<br />
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At last the young girl passed away. Of course the parents were heartbroken but maintained faith that they would see her again in the eternities. <br />
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The funeral was planed and was to be in Mayfield Utah...a couple of hours South of where we lived. They were from Mayfield and wanted her interned there.<br />
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(I was aware of where Mayfield was because I had, many times, driven through there on the way to 12 mile canyon which connected with Skyline Drive on the top of the mountain. My first time there was probably when I was around 12 years old.)<br />
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At this time we had recently purchased a new 12 passenger van. We volunteered to car pool some of the ward members to the funeral. The bishopric and their wives wanted to ride with us. The bishop was to conduct the funeral.<br />
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The trip was uneventful until we left Gunnison and were a few miles from Mayfield. We had timed things just right and should get to the church about 30 minutes before the funeral was to begin. Then we came upon a sign that said "road closed" and another that said "bridge closed". We proceeded further, recognizing that it would put us far behind by going back to Gunnison, then North to the other road that could take us to Mayfield.<br />
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1983 was a year of heavy snowpack and there were many floods throughout the area. This area was no exception. When we came to the bridge, there were small barricades there to stop the traffic. We got out and looked at the swollen stream and how it had washed out much of the dirt and material that was around and under the supports of the bridge. The water was literally roaring under the bridge. We walked across the bridge and back and decided to give it a try. Rather than put everyone's lives at risk, we moved the barricades and rather quickly and very nervously, I alone drove across the bridge. Everyone else walked across. We replaced the barricades, everyone got in the van and we got the church on time.<br />
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The people in Mayfield were more than gracious. After the funeral and grave side service, they served us with a nice meal before out trip home<br />
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Not too long after that, we move to our present location. We have fond memories of that time in our lives.<br />
<br />Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-5583277995596242012-02-25T07:13:00.001-08:002012-02-25T07:13:59.283-08:00MarblesPrevious time:<br />
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I'm old enough to remember that in my youth, we used to play marbles. There were cats eyes, colored marbles, agates, and the most coveted were the flints. We might play keepsies with most of these, but never with the flints, they were a treasure to us.<br />
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Present time:<br />
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After our volunteer work at the state prison last night, as drove to the corner, I asked Nan "right or left". It is just a question and one I knew the answer to. She always says right. The left turn takes us to the freeway, the turn right takes us past the prison grounds and an industrial area followed by a winding road through a rural area mingled with an upscale area of homes.<br />
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We were quiet as we drove along together, each alone with our thoughts about the things we heard in our meeting with the inmates.<br />
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My thoughts suddenly changed directions as we crossed the Jordan river. How many times I had been to that very spot, fishing. I thought about my teenage years when my dad, brothers-in-law and I had gone fishing at different places on the Jordan river. Sometimes the fish weren't biting but most of the time the misquitoes were. I remembered one time in particular when those little bugs were so hungry that they biting me through my shirt.<br />
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One time I was fishing near where the water comes out of the lake. There was a little mud bar kind of jutting out in the river. I fished off the tip of that bar and had the best of luck. There must have been a school of catfish there, because I was catching one after the other, no waiting, just reeling them in. I finally got tired and went home.<br />
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The next day, I thought I would try that same spot. When I got there, there were two men already at the tip of the mud bar. They were both catching the fish as fast as they could get their lines in the water. They were both laughing and giggling like a couple of little girls at a tea party. I had almost as good a time as they did, just watching them.<br />
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My thoughts turned to my dad and how much he loved to fish.<br />
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My father once asked his uncle Will (who loved to hunt and fish), "what will you do when you get to the other side and there is no hunting and fishing"?<br />
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His uncle thought for a minute, then answered..."when I was a young boy, there was nothing better than a game of marbles...but I grew up!<br />
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Just saying!<br />
<br />Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-47716519309726919022011-12-18T18:53:00.001-08:002011-12-18T18:53:14.273-08:00What Can I OfferAs we approach another Christmas, my thoughts have turned toward the true meaning of Christmas.<br />
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Often I wonder what we offer our Savior... not only at this season, but what do we offer him throughout the entire year? I know that he says "thou shalt offer a sacrifice unto the Lord thy God in righteousness, even that of a broken heart and a contrite spirit."<br />
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I wonder about my own heart, is it still running free as a mustang on the prairie, or has my spirit been tamed...broken as you will, like a horse willing to come when his master beckons.<br />
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Am I willing to do what He asks of me, looking forward with faith, knowing that He would ask nothing of me that He wouldn't expect me to accomplish...not on my own, but with His help.<br />
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What more can I offer?<br />
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Has my gift to Him been sufficient?<br />
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I think back to the time when the widow gave her two mites and some thought that it was a paltry offering...until the Master stated that hers was more than the rest who gave much more, because she gave all she had.<br />
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Thinking back to last January when we narrowly escaped having a head-on collision...one that most likely would have taken our lives, I have come to realize His hand in the outcome. We came through the debris thrown in our path almost untouched. I know what I saw thrown into the air along with that cloud of dust. Without some intervention from some unseen power, we wouldn't have been so fortunate to continue this life.<br />
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I have come to the conclusion that there must still be something left in this life for me to accomplish. Perhaps it has something to do with my new calling, working with LDS Family Services in the addiction recovery program. Perhaps not to help others, but to help me to overcome pride and turn my heart, my life un to Christ without reservation.<br />
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Perhaps I have the opportunity to serve my family and friends by example, by word and love for another season.<br />
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I am grateful for our Savior. As we celebrate His birth, I personally celebrate his atonement, his redeeming sacrifice where he suffered for our sins and pain and worries and hurts, taking some of the burden from us. By doing so, he understands how we feel and he knows how to comfort us.<br />
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Might we, might I always be found in His service is my Christmas wish. This wish/gift I give to you.<br />
<br />Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-44231874280593789742011-11-20T14:14:00.001-08:002011-11-20T14:14:08.536-08:00T-boneI received a call from a friend last week wanting me to do a little project for him. I drove up our street to 700 East and turned south which carried me to the heart of Draper. On that short drive, the memories came flooding back. Just past the tracks on the West side of the street is a red brick house. Across the street is a commercial building that has been renovated many times over the years. My dad had a friend named Jack who lived in the red house and would build houses on the lot across the street in front of the commercial building. He would build them on a bulk work of timbers so they could be moved. I remember working on some of them as I learned to be an electrician. <br />
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Sometime before I began working with my father, he had been working on a project with Jack. While there, a big dog ran up to Jack and bit him on the leg, causing a severe injury. My dad had a bottle of iodine that he poured into the wound to keep the infection away. As Jack squirmed with pain both from the bite and the iodine, my dad told Jack that the dog had mistaken him for a t-bone stake.<br />
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Interesting enough, my dad started calling Jack T-bone. The name stuck and I think others called him that too. At any rate, we all knew who T-bone was.<br />
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Jack liked to smoke, and smoked a lot. After many years of doing so, his body rebelled. He came down with a severe case of emphysema. <br />
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I liked T-bone. In some ways he reminded me of my grandfather. He was gray and old and was always friendly and kind to me.<br />
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The last time I saw him was when I was working on a little house on the lot in Draper. I was in my early teens and T-bone came over to see how the work was going. He was now too old to do any of the work. I remember that the trek across the little road that 700 East was back then, was exhausting for him. He hardly had enough breath to get there, and had to rest before going back home.<br />
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It wasn't long after that, that T-bone passed away.<br />
<br />Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-81790037091438003402011-11-19T09:57:00.001-08:002011-11-19T09:57:25.985-08:00Payback<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember as a kid, in the fall, we would rake the leaves from the giant silver maple trees around our yard into a big pile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was always fun to play in those fluffy mountains, jumping into them, running through them, riding our bikes through them and covering ourselves with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never stopped to think that we probably tracked a lot into the house and our mother, patient as always, cleaned them up after us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't remember it, but she probably chastised us for the mess.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After our fun was over, we would bring a large canvas tarp out, rake the leaves onto it and carry them out to the garden where they became mulch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was repeated until the lawn was cleared.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Down through the years, leaves became more of a chore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As our children grew up and no longer cared about piles of leaves, someone (this means me) had to clean them up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lawns are easier than past years as we have a riding lawn mower that vacuums them up. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We have a tree next to the driveway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our driveway is long and collects all the leaves from one particular silver maple tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mower doesn't do so well picking up the leaves from the driveway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned about twenty years ago that if mother nature cooperates, this means the leaves falling at the proper time and if the South wind blows at the right time, I don't have to do a thing to clean up the leaves off the drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The leaves like waves of water float across the street and end up in the church parking lot, lawn and beyond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't which means I sometimes have to sweep up leaves from the drive.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This year was payback.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched as my leaves floated away a week or so ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was satisfied that my drive was swept clean as a kitchen table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we get storms here, we usually have a South wind (which carried away my leaves), followed by a North wind immediately preceding the storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today was storm day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched as waves of leaves floated across the street into my driveway, lawns and beyond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only did I get my own leaves back but all the leaves that came off the trees from the church and neighboring properties.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I'm not placing the blame on anyone, but perhaps there is someone in control that has a sense of humor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I'm thinking that perhaps we'll get another South wind and send 'm all back again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or not. </span></span></div>Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-80805414321292713142011-07-11T08:51:00.000-07:002011-07-11T08:55:55.838-07:00The JourneyThis story begins about thirty years ago. I was working as a journeyman electrician for my good friend and employer, Wilford, and had been doing so for quite a few years. I was the foreman on a fairly large project in downtown Salt Lake City and found satisfaction in the fact that the project was making money for the company.<br />One day while driving to work, as I was stopped waiting for a light to change, a thought forced its way into my head. It wasn't something I had been thinking about or otherwise been preparing for. Perhaps it was a spiritual prompting...something I have since determined was the case.<br />It was as if a voice spoke to me. It told me to get my master electrician license and my electrical contractor license. I had not planned to be a contractor and hadn't even planned on educating myself to be such. I hadn't studied for the master electrician license, but subsequently determined to do so.<br />After months of study, preparation and filling out forms, The time came for me to take the master electrician license. The preparation paid off as I passed the test. After the master license was acquired, then the state would let me take the contractor test. It was a long and difficult time of preparation. The test was given in a large room where they had people from many different contractor classifications...all taking their respective tests. I can't remember for sure, but If I remember it right, there was a time limit of 5 hours to take the test. I got so involved in my test and trying to get it done on time and correctly, that I didn't watch the clock. When I finished the test, I looked up and the only people left in the room were the proctor who administered the test and myself. I looked at the clock and had less than a half hour left. The person proctoring the test was also the person who checked the tests and graded them. He said that since no one else was there, he would tell me my grade...even though the state would send out the results sometime in the next two weeks. I passed!<br />Although I still worked for Wilford, I began to bid little jobs on the side and would do them in the evenings. I didn't bid the market or large jobs that Wilford was, so I wasn't taking work from him. Eventually, I started getting enough work that It was time for me to strike out on my own. I had to obtain insurance, Federal ID number and make sure that I had all my legal bases covered.<br />Wilford was understanding and to this day...we are still friends.<br />The market that I was in was wiring houses and small commercial buildings. It was in the early eighties, and for some, times were difficult. I didn't have any capital to work with, but it increased as I found and completed jobs. Nancy was understanding when we had to tighten our belts. Before too long, I had enough capital and work to have a couple of employees. This continued for a few years and then, when things got slow, I went back to work by myself. Some of the work was out of state, but eventually, I found some work at Hill AFB that lasted over 12 years.<br />It was around 1998 and I was still working at the AFB. I was still able to get jobs there, but for some reason, the bureaucracy was having a difficult time getting their paperwork processed in a timely manner. The contractor I was sub-contracting to, blamed it on the government office we worked through. When I went and asked them, they blamed it on the contractor. Long story-short, my payments were getting to me anywhere from three to five months after I completed a project.<br />As I pondered my situation, I thought that perhaps it was time for me to change my situation. Nan and I discussed it and prayed that we might know what to do. We made our decision and took it to the Lord.<br />There is a scripture in Doctrine and Covenants Section 9 verse 8 that says<br />”But, behold, I say unto you, that you must <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/9.9?lang=eng">study</a> it out in your <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/9.9?lang=eng">mind</a>; then you must <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/9.9?lang=eng">ask</a> me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/9.9?lang=eng">bosom</a> shall <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/9.9?lang=eng">burn</a> within you; therefore, you shall <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/9.9?lang=eng">feel</a> that it is right."<br />Never before had I had such a strong feeling that what we had decided was the right decision. I was at peace.<br />Even though we didn't have work at the time, I felt good about pulling away from 12 years of job security that had sustained us while we raised our family.<br />Almost immediately, I began to find work and lots of it. I employed my son-in-law and others and continued to grow the business.<br />The current economic crisis blind-sided many contractors...myself included. The work I had procured sustained us for a period of time, but as the jobs were completed, I was unable to replace them with new work. So many people were bidding the projects so low...I couldn't compete. My overhead was low and I continued to lower my labor rates, but to no avail. Over a period of time I let all my employees go. Fortunately, they all were able to find other jobs.<br />Not wanting to close the doors, I continued to bid jobs at a lower rate and was able to find a few small jobs. These jobs I did by myself. If there was something I needed help with, I would hire someone for a day or an evening.<br />The factor I hadn't figured on was my health. Over the years, I had worn my body out along with other health issues. It wasn't so bad when I had some "medical procedure” when I had employees to cover for me. Now I was alone and it was an entire different situation.<br />I suffered through the last year with my knees getting worse all the time. I continued to work through the pain but was slow and worn out by day's end.<br />I let the work dwindle to nothing by the end of the year so I could get a knee replacement on one knee and the other knee repaired. These procedures happened the middle of February. I had money saved up to help us through this time, and it was used carefully. When It ran out, we only had what Nan was bringing in.<br />Now is where the water gets murky at times. I turned 62 in April and in May, we decided that I should take an early retirement. All this means is that I collect social security every month. I can still earn a small amount, so I kept my business open. Work is still scarce and hard to obtain, so the little jobs I'm doing don't amount to what I could earn under the social security cap.<br />I'm still recovering from the February surgeries. I still have pain, but for the most part, I just haven't recovered all my strength.<br />I keep busy with my yard, and what little work I have obtained.<br />I'm not too keen on the idea of being considered "elderly" but do enjoy the "senior discounts" that some places offer to people of my age.<br />I wasn't ready for the journey to take the turn that it has. Mostly because I'm not sure where it's headed and where it'll end. I only know that I have to be happy that I can do what I am able, and find joy in the doing of it.Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-15710349391002400072011-04-23T17:13:00.000-07:002011-04-23T17:17:31.983-07:00EasterHave you ever paddled a canoe? The guy in front paddles on one side while the person in back paddles on the other side...also the back person can use his paddle as a rudder to make corrections as needed to keep the canoe on course. Otherwise, the canoe would go in circles or zigzag across the water.<br /><br />The other day while driving down Redwood Road, while waiting for a light to change, my view and mind focused on an individual. He was in the pedestrian lane crossing the six lanes of traffic at the intersection. This isn't the first time I have seen him, but his situation really tugged at my heart. I wondered that someone didn't get out of their car and help him...perhaps he doesn't want help.<br /><br />The individual was in a wheel chair. Not a fancy motorized one, but one where you have to use your arms and hands to propel it forward. This man has only one arm that he can use. He would push the one side forward, then reach across his body and pull the other wheel forward. It's amazing that with all the little zigzags that he had to do to move forward, that he made it across those six lanes before the light changed.<br /><br />My mind must have been in the Easter mode, because I was thinking about how Christ suffered death for all, and that resurrection is a gift for all mankind. I thought about how when we are resurrected we will have perfect bodies, free of the maladies that beset our mortal nature. Someday, the wheelchair guy will stand tall and walk instead of hunched over struggling to propel himself forward.<br /><br />This Easter I am thankful for Jesus Christ...He is Risen.Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-36819717524857766622011-02-11T09:03:00.000-08:002011-02-11T09:04:21.799-08:00The Old ChurchA week ago, I did some work on a church building. This was an older building and it brought back some memories of the church building less than a block from where I grew up.<br /><br />As I was working, I could hear the clanking of the steam pipes and radiators. It sounded like someone was in another part of the building with a hammer, banging on the pipes. The old building in cottonwood was much older than this building but I can still recall the old steam heat clanking and making a racket.<br /><br />The old cottonwood building had a distinct personality. It had a long covered stairway to the foyer. This stairway had a steel banister in the middle which provided us with countless hours of entertainment sliding down it. <br /><br />The foyer branched off to the left to the chapel, strait to the cultural hall which was that and more...It served as an overflow for the chapel and had a stage for cultural experiences...plays and such. If you went to the right from the foyer, there was a bishops and clerk's office and a couple of classrooms and some stairs that went to the lower level that had a primary room and class rooms that extended underneath all of the building.<br /><br />Next to the bishops office was a small classroom that had a set of stairs that went to a small classroom kind of mid-way up the tower. From that class room there was also a steep set of stairs that went to an even smaller classroom at the top of the tower.<br /><br />If you went through the cultural hall, there was a door that led to the stake offices. These offices occupied an area on the upper level and the lower level with a steep set of stairs connecting the two.<br /><br />There was also a set of doors on the other side of the chapel. There was a small foyer that connected to the cultural hall and a set of stairs that led to a landing which took you outside...or to more stairs that went to the lower lever.<br /><br />The lower level at this point had a drinking fountain. There, was also the restrooms and a sacrament prep. room. The hall jogged a little and met the hall and classrooms mentions above, and also had a hall that extended to classrooms underneath the chapel.<br /><br />In all my growing up years, this unique old building still holds a place in my heart. I helped my dad wire the swamp coolers that were added to make the chapel more comfortable. (Before we had the coolers, they used to pass out the little fold up fans so we could fan ourselves, and then they would collect them at the end of the services)<br /><br />Of course with the changing times, remodels and additions added a gym and other rooms. Then about forty years ago they demolished the old building but not the additions. They built an addition to the gym which included new classrooms and a new chapel and classrooms and offices all on one level.<br /><br />These and countless other memories came to the forefront, just from hearing the sound of those steam pipes. Oh, the years are many and long...where have they gone.Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-29288486811841919542011-02-05T08:10:00.000-08:002011-02-05T08:22:33.033-08:00MaxineAs I was stopped at a light on the way home from work, I noticed a man in sun glasses and with a white cane feeling his way down the sidewalk.<br /><br />My thoughts turned to Maxine. I don't remember the first time I met Maxine, Only that she and her husband, Henry, were friends with my parents and lived close bye when I was young. Henry was a contractor and we did work for him from time to time.<br /><br />Maxine lost her sight at least forty years ago. When they were aged, they moved to Riverton, only about a five minute drive away from where I live. Even though he was old, Henry built a new house on a small lot. The house was a one level space that Maxine could easily learn and walk and feel her way around in.<br /><br />After a couple of years, Henry passed away and a couple of their granddaughters moved in with Maxine to help her with the tasks that we often take for granted.<br /><br />It was at this time that I used to visit Maxine. We visited about a lot of things and as time went by, I learned that Maxine loved to do genealogy and used to research her ancestors. She explained that she could still picture her "family tree" in her mind, and that she longed to be able to do the research, but her blindness prevented her from doing so.<br /><br />At the time, I was spending a lot of time doing research, and I offered to help her by spending part of my research time looking for her ancestors. She was grateful that I would do such a thing for her. <br /><br />Maxine provided me with some names and dates and I was able to find some interesting things and many names of her ancestors. She had some ancestors in England that the family line ended...they had lost any leads for further research. I learned that the name of Scoffield actually evolved from an old English name of Scoffin. From some reading I had done, I learned that in the old English, fields and meadows were called fins. Because of this, I was able to extend the research a couple of generations.<br /><br />When I had completed a goodly amount or research, I printed family group sheets and pedigree charts and inserted them in a binder along with a computer disk encompassing the work I had done. Her granddaughters could review what I had found with her. She was elated that I would do such a thing for her.<br /><br />It wasn't long after that when I got a telephone call from the granddaughters...Maxine had suffered a heart attack and passed away.<br /><br />I wonder what happened to the binder and the records I researched.<br /><br />I felt to thank the Lord for her life and that she could now see again.Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-7469340723340515772011-01-19T14:46:00.000-08:002011-01-19T15:28:56.874-08:00A Near MissMy bride of nearly forty years, my son and I took a little trip to visit Jenny in Idaho. Nan had been there a couple of times in the last year, but it's been probably fifteen months since my last visit.<br /><br />We all had a nice time visiting but needed to be home by Tuesday afternoon for Ben to attend a job interview. Since it's a three hour drive, we left after breakfast so we could be home before noon.<br /><br />On our drive up, the roads were wet and it rained or sprinkled almost all of the way. We were a little surprised that even over the pass, it wasn't snowing. The drive home was even better...dry roads, partly cloudy skies and mild temperatures.<br /><br />As we passed Willard, Ben and I both noticed a sign warning drivers that "driving drowsy can be deadly".<br /><br />Three miles later a car traveling the opposite direction suddenly went out of control and was in the median coming directly at us on a collision course. At the freeway speeds of 75 MPH, having a "head on collision" would kill us all. I hit the brake in a last ditch effort to at least try to avoid the inevitable.<br /><br />In less than a second before the collision, the car struck the wire cable barrier on our side of the median, not stopping it, but turning it down the median where it continued for a couple of hundred feet, breaking off 16 of posts but stopping it from going into oncoming traffic.<br /><br />When the car hit the barrier, it's bumper and tons of debris from the car and barrier posts flew into the air in the same place as the car would have been without a barrier, and there we were.<br /><br />For the life of me, I can't figure how some of the debris didn't come through the windshield and kill someone. We ran over something fairly large...perhaps one of the barrier posts. The noise was terribly loud.<br /><br />I pulled off the road entirely on the grass and dirt, not wanting to be exposed to any traffic. I got out, looked the car over and couldn't believe my eyes. Over and again I looked and couldn't find a dent or scratch. Finally I discovered a broken piece of plastic below the front bumper. That was it!<br /><br />Ben and I walked back to the other car to check on its occupants. Other drivers had also stopped to help. The driver side of the car was still against the barrier. The passenger stated that he thought the driver was having a heart attack. In less than five minutes, many emergency vehicles were arriving on the scene, the health of the other driver absorbing most of their attention.<br /><br />After making sure we didn't sustain any injuries, a State Trooper helped me fill out an accident report for our damage and told us we could leave the scene. He informed me that the responding paramedics thought the other driver had suffered a stroke...possibly causing the accident. Looking at where we were and at the cable barrier, he said "it did what it was supposed to do". It literally saved our lives.<br /><br />After we returned home, I took the car over to the body shop and they quoted the damage as a little less than five hundred dollars.<br /><br />I believe in miracles.Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-73938380198827536602011-01-18T16:24:00.001-08:002011-01-18T16:24:52.809-08:00GlowingSome people besides my family know that I'm going to have a knee replaced. I wish there was some other alternative but I've tried about everything else.<br /> The doctor who is going to do the surgery requires that I have an EKG to make sure my heart is working properly. I made the appointment at the hospital, got an EKG done and they sent the results to the surgeon. The people at the surgeons office called and said that the EKG was abnormal and I would need a cardiologist to give me clearance before I could get the knee done.<br /> This last week, I went to the cardio clinic where they did another EKG. Then, to make sure I was OK, they had me come back the next day for a stress test. I've done a stress test on a treadmill before, but because of my knees, they did the stress part chemically. First they insert an IV after which they inject some radioactive material so they can take pictures of the heart. After an agonizing 16 minutes with my arms lifted above my head on a table, the pictures were done...not. Then they did the stress part. They put me on another table and assured me that the test was safe. Then they injected a radioactive isotope, whatever that is, into my IV. They said it would cause all the veins in my body to dilate at the same time. This would simulate the stress put on a body and heart similar to a hard workout. I'm not sure what it did, but I was sick...very much like I had overdone a workout by a long ways.<br /> After a few minutes the effects wore off and I felt better. Then they took me back for more pictures of my heart. First on m back with my arms above my head again for another twelve minutes, then on my stomach for another eight minutes. They assured me I was OK and that they would send the results to the surgeon.<br /> The next day, I still had a slight headache and my stomach was a little sick.<br /> I was on the phone with my daughter Christine. I was explaining the whole procedure to her and that I didn't feel all that well. Then I told her about the side effect of the radioactive injection...that it made me glow in the dark.<br /> The whole family is laughing...SHE BELIEVED ME!Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-77416446389883929792011-01-18T16:22:00.001-08:002011-01-18T16:22:44.757-08:00Driveway CircusMy daughter received a call Saturday morning from a friend. This "fifty something" year old woman needed help changing a flat tire. Her car was in the driveway so she wasn't in traffic. Since she live in a secluded area of condo's...no one could see she needed help. After several attempts to reach her home teachers and some other men in her neighborhood, she called Les.<br /> I'm not stating that Les can't change a tire...in fact, she did once several years ago.<br /> Nan called to talk to Les and found out what she was up to. When I was made aware of the fact that Les was changing a tire, I knew she was imminent danger and asked directions so I could help. I also told her to make sure she put something under the other tires so the car wouldn't roll off the jack.<br /> Fifteen minutes later I pulled up to the driveway behind flat tire car. By this time, two other men had also found their way there. One had a small floor jack that he used to replace Les' Jack...she couldn't find the one in flat tire car so she used her own.<br /> Les had loosened the lug nuts and jacked the car up. This man stated that he used to rotate his own tires, so the floor jack was easy to use. He also had a four way lug wrench so he didn't need the one from flat tire car.<br /> I figured I should do something useful since I was already on the scene. I pulled the donut spare out of the trunk and thought it felt kinda soft. I gave it to floor jack man who put it on the car, released the floor jack and watched the rim settle to the concrete driveway.<br /> Everyone stood there looking at each other. Les pulled the spare from her car and said, here use mine...unfortunately it didn't fit. I suggested we take the donut tire to the gas station a block away and fill it up. They removed the donut, I took it to the station and filled it, took it back, it was placed on the car so the woman could drive to the tire store to repair her flat. I told her the tire store would put it back on the car for her.<br /> All the tools gathered up...no one could find flat tire cars lug wrench. It was at this time that they decided to gather up the things they put behind the tires to keep the car from rolling. I'm still laughing at what they used. On the one side they had placed a black bag containing a bowling ball an bowling shoes. On the other side they has placed a twelve pack of soda. (who knows, perhaps they might have slowed it down had flat tire car started to roll.)<br /> All said and done, we decided to follow Les to her house. At the first corner where she had to stop, we watches something slide off the front of her car...It was the missing lug wrench. It was black and had been placed on the hood of her black car.<br /> What's that saying...something about the blind leading the blind?Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-68267192588052575972010-09-17T19:16:00.000-07:002010-09-17T19:18:57.380-07:00NostalgiaIt's been a while since I had such a sudden wave of nostalgia. It kind of blindsided me...came out of nowhere.<br /><br /> Ever since we got married, Nan and I have reserved Friday nights for our date night. Sometimes things get in the way and we miss a week, but even then, we try to have a make-up night.<br /><br /> I don't do movies often, so most of our dates center around one of our favorite restaurants. Nan always likes this best, as she likes to spend money on food rather than some other form of entertainment. Often, one or the other of our children will accompany us. It's a pleasure for us to have them there and I hope they feel the same.<br /><br /> My parents were the same way. I don't think they could afford to go out to dinner as often as we do, but I know they enjoyed the time together. From time to time we would join them. It was a special time for us. After mom passed away, we made a special effort to include dad for these outings.<br /><br /> This evening, sitting at our table, Nan and I were enjoying our meal. There was a young couple sitting at a table not far from us. I think they had three children with them. At any rate, there were a couple of empty chairs at the table. The young mother kept glancing at the door, and eventually she smiled and greeted an older couple who I presume were her parents. It was probably the young mom's birthday as the parents left a gift in front of her.<br /><br /> Memories of the times with my parents flooded my mind. They were kind and thoughtful people. I looked at Nan and she knew what I was thinking...must have been something in the air that made my eyes water.Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-33909269956073063942010-09-11T18:36:00.000-07:002010-09-11T18:37:37.787-07:00The Farmer and The BanditBecause my neighbor was hauling some equipment when I was finished with my irrigation turn, I told him I would turn the water on his large field when it was time...It's the kind of thing neighbors do.<br /> Having adjusted the stream of water, I started to walk back across the field. I heard a rustle in the alfalfa and turned just in time to face the little bandit. He was running about ten feet away and stopped in his tracks when I turned to look. I'm not sure which of us was the most surprised.<br /> He must have been hiding in one of the irrigation pipes because he was soaked to the skin and looked like a drowned rat.<br /> I thought of the board laying by the head gate about twenty feet away. I could always give him a whack with that if I could just get to it in time. He must have read my mind, because he bolted that way trying to get to it first. My sore knees just wouldn't move that fast.<br /> Instead of stopping for a fight, he crawled through the fence and disappeared into the brush.<br /> There I stood, waving a 2X4 club at nothing.<br /> The family of raccoons, that have been eating some of the corn patches around the neighborhood, must be sitting around their family room rolling on the floor laughing as he told his side of the story... some gimpy old geezer running, trying to keep up with him...Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-2178882816945392992010-08-17T17:53:00.000-07:002010-08-17T17:54:24.501-07:00On The FlyWhen I was a kid, I learned that my dad, my hero, the person I most wanted to be like, was a fly fisherman. Not just any kind of fly fisherman, but a dry fly fisherman. <br /> Sure, he would take our family to one of several lakes or reservoirs that weren't too far away, only because we couldn't fly fish. He was designated as the person who would bait the hooks. Sometimes at Deer Creek reservoir with several of us there, the perch would be biting so fast that he didn't have time to fish for himself.<br /> As I got to the ripe old age of six or seven, so it was that my dad took me with him and tried to teach me to fish with a dry fly. He taught me to cast, to watch the fly float down a stream, and to hook a fish when it took the fly. The theory was there, but to a youngster, the coordination and particularly the attention span and concentration were lacking and took a few years to develop.<br /> One of my dad's favorite places to fish was the North Fork of the Provo river. My dad loved to fish the upper Provo. The first fish that I can remember catching on a dry fly was at the North Fork. There was a little ripple just North of the bridge and I was casting and floating the fly. I wasn't watching much, just imitating what my dad was doing. Of a sudden, there was a trout on my line. I can remember to this day how excited I was. <br /> It was at this time that it finally sunk in, that you have to watch for the fish to take the fly. Often they will just come up and look at it, take it and spit it out before you can react, or swat it with their tail. More than once I have hooked a fish by the tail as I reacted to it.<br /> Only a few times in the nearly forty years since I got married have I taken time to fly fish. When Nan and I had no children, we took a camping trip and fished the river above Tabiona just off the reservation on the road to the upper still water. We camped by the river and I tried to teach her to fly fish. I caught a few trout and a couple of whitefish. I don't think Nan was able to get the hang of it.<br /> I taught my son Ben to fly fish when we would go camping at the Spruces in Big Cottonwood canyon. He seemed to pick it up pretty good and was able to catch a fish from time to time. One time as he was flipping his fly in the air, he made a once in a lifetime catch...he hooked a dragonfly.<br /> This year at our family outing at Warm Springs Resort in Hannah, we fished the Duchesne River where it ran through the property. It had been years since we dusted off the fly rods, and neither of us could catch a fish, although we had quite a few strikes.<br /> This past weekend we went to visit our good Friends, Charlie and Joyce, at Fish Lake. As is usual for our visits, we spent a lot of time fishing from their boat in the lake and catching some good sized trout. We took our fly rods with us, and Charlie took us to a couple of places to fish in the streams. One place we fished, I didn't catch anything, but Charlie and Ben both caught a couple of Cutthroat trout. They released them back into the stream. On Saturday afternoon, we took a little drive and came to the Fremont river. A little above the reservoir, we found a place to fly fish, and it wasn't long before I found a little place where there were some small fish. Not big enough to keep, we had fun catching them and it was good practice watching the fly float and the fish going after it. These were German Brown Trout.<br /> Alas, my thoughts again return to my dad. He was old, his body worn out, but the desire to fly fish was still there. He drove up the mirror lake road to a place he liked to fish. He left mom in the car while he hiked down the long and steep embankment to the river. I don't recall if he collected any fish, but knowing him, he probably had a fun time tempting them. When he got tired, he decided to go back to the car...only he couldn't get up the steep hill. Mom didn't know he was just down the hill, and was probably reading a book and napping. Dad, finally got down in his hands and knees and crawled up the hill to the car and my mom. That was the last time he fly fished.<br /> I suspect our interests will be different, but wouldn't it be nice if, when we died, we found our little place in heaven had a little brook running through it and the trout were jumping and we had a fly rod in our hand.Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-40706568895234968762010-07-31T18:25:00.000-07:002010-07-31T18:26:00.719-07:00A few months before my sister passed away, she sent me an email. The concluding sentence has forever touched my heart.“ I know that the Lord has been very good to me and to the rest of the family. I know that His will prevails over all things and whatever he decides after my petition, I want you to know that I am good with it -- and not just because I HAVE to be -- I am really good with it.”<br />I would like to address submitting to His will and how we get to that point in our lives.<br />1The Savior showed us a great example of a prayer of submission. He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane as He worked out the Atonement that His Father's will would be done. He knew that His Father's will would be for Him to do what was so painful and so terrible that we cannot comprehend it. He prayed not simply to accept the Father's will but to do it. He showed us the way to pray in perfect and determined submission.<br />1So many of us are kept from eventual consecration because we mistakenly think that, somehow, by letting our will be swallowed up in the will of God, we lose our individuality (see Mosiah 15:7). What we are really worried about, of course, is not giving up self, but selfish things-like our roles, our time, our preeminence, and our possessions. No wonder we are instructed by the Savior to lose ourselves (see Luke 9:24). He is only asking us to lose the old self in order to find the new self. It is not a question of one's losing identity but of finding his true identity! Ironically, so many people already lose themselves anyway in their consuming hobbies and preoccupations but with far, far lesser things.<br />1Acknowledging God's hand includes, in the words of the Prophet Joseph, trusting that God has made "ample provision" beforehand to achieve all His purposes, including His purposes in our lives (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 220). Sometimes He clearly directs; other times it seems He merely permits some things to happen. Therefore, we will not always understand the role of God's hand, but we know enough of his heart and mind to be submissive. Thus when we are perplexed and stressed, explanatory help is not always immediately forthcoming, but compensatory help will be. Thus our process of cognition gives way to our personal submission, as we experience those moments when we learn to "be still, and know that I am God" (Ps. 46:10).<br />King Benjamin explained it as follows:<br />Mosiah 3:19<br />19 For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him…<br />Elder Neil Maxwell Said:<br />The submission of one's will is really the only uniquely personal thing we have to place on God's altar. The many other things we "give , are actually the things He has already given or loaned to us. However, when you and I finally submit ourselves, by letting our individual wills be swallowed up in God's will, then we are really giving something to Him! It is the only possession which is truly ours to give! " (Alma 31:38).<br />Many years ago, as a lonely homesick young serviceman, I struggled to find my identity. I eventually turned to a chaplain who recognized my problem and helped me to find my self worth. He had me memorized a poem called ”gratitude.” In doing so, he made me recognize the blessings that were mine…things I was taking for granted. Things like walking, talking, seeing and hearing. In order for me to accept what was going on in my life and to bend to the will of God, I had to recognize what He had given me.<br />In D&C 59:21 it says<br />21 And in nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things, and obey not his commandments.<br />As we experience trials, struggles and joys in our lives, might we take time to reflect on the source of our blessings and express our gratitude for all things. Not just the easy things or the good things…for sometimes we learn most from the struggles and trials given to us.<br /><br /><br /># 1 Elder Neal A. Maxwell, "Swallowed Up in the Will of the Father", Ensign (CR), November 1995, p.22Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-34707359945482631702009-02-21T05:51:00.000-08:002009-02-21T05:55:31.800-08:00Passing the CandleA few days prior to Christmas 1970, I returned home after serving a two year mission for the LDS Church. Nan had written me letters fairly often for the entire two years. Before I left for Denmark, we had been close, but I chose not to ask her to wait for me. I was always hoping that she would be there, but I always expected her to date and enjoy life rather than to sit around missing me.<br /> After our first meeting upon my return, I recognized that the feelings we had for each other had not changed. Sure, she had dated and attended college, but we both felt the same, even after two years.<br /> We shopped around for a ring, and after finding one that she liked, I later returned and purchased it. <br /> My friend Mark, a year younger then I am, having just gone through a divorce, counseled me to not get married. He was serious, and I could tell that he was still smarting from the heartache.<br /> I was a little shy about asking Nan’s dad for her hand in marriage. Still, she insisted that to be proper, I needed to do it. It was the night of her family’s Christmas party. We were up at their cabin, and if you knew her family, it was a large group. Somehow, we managed to get her parents up in a small little balcony that overlooked the cabins main room. There, nervous and shy, I asked her father for her hand. He said yes, and promptly went to the edge of the balcony, where he called for everyone’s attention. There, to my embarrassment he announced to everyone present, that he was going to get a new “son-in-law.”<br /> Nan’s dad had a large station wagon. It was a Chrysler as that is what he always had for his large family (12 kids). On our way home, Nan and I were sitting in the back. Packed in pretty tight, we couldn’t help but cuddle up to stay warm. When we reached my parents circular driveway, I leaned over to give Nan a goodnight kiss. Her dad must have been watching in the mirror, because he drove through the circle to the street and around again without stopping. I’m thinking it was three times. He was not only buying me more time for the goodnight kiss, but to embarrass me in front of the other kids. He had a wonderful sense of humor.<br /> Another night not too long after that, I presented Nan with the ring and we officially became engaged.<br /> Nan belonged to a sorority at the University of Utah. They had a tradition of “passing the candle.” What this consisted of was that the person who got engaged would leave a candle outside the sorority director’s door. Having found the candle, the director would, within a few days, call a meeting for the candle ceremony. The girls would sit in a large circle, sing some kind of romantic song, and as they were doing so, they would pass the candle around the circle. After the candle had gone full circle, the girls would pretend to blow the candle out, but only the one who was engaged would finally blow it out. This was their way of announcing the engagement to the others. Then to my chagrin, I had to come in and meet all the other sorority sisters.<br /> After all these years, that night seems like a life time ago. <br /> Four months later, Nan and I were married…still are. My friend Mark eventually married again too…still is.<br /> All of these years with Nan have been a wonderful blessing. She has already passed the age of her mother when she passed away. A couple of years and she will pass the age of her father when he passed away. It makes me think of the poem my father used to share:<br /> Lord, May there be no moment in her life,<br /> That she regrets that she became my wife.<br /> Keep her dear eyes just a trifle blind<br /> To my defects and to my failings kind<br /> Help me to do the utmost that I can<br /> To show myself her measure of a man<br /> But if I often fail as mortals mayKenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348944643640126282.post-11085445066210061792009-02-06T19:23:00.000-08:002009-02-06T19:24:48.954-08:00Somebody Finally ListenedDoes the government ever really listen to what the people want? Over the years, I’ve found myself pondering this question.<br /> It’s been nearly a hundred years of people saying they were going to extend our street East from 1300 West, and West from 3200 West. The old house at the east end of our street looks like someone cut it in half. The reality of it is, that when the owner was building it, when someone said the street was eventually going to continue East, they stopped where they were and finished the house as it was without continuing further North. <br /> As far as continuing West, with the advent of a large development a few years ago, the West end of the street was extended by a few miles. Just this last year, it was connected to another road which takes it to the further reaches of the valley near the western mountains.<br /> It’s been more than ten years since we had a meeting where we each voiced our opinions about a route from the freeway to the western part of the valley. The zoning and planning committee agreed that it was best to move the road over about four blocks to the south so that it would have less impact on development. They gave their recommendation to the city council which totally ignored their recommendation and decided to leave it at 11400 South.<br /> Somehow, this didn’t really surprise me, although I think that elected officials should be attentive to the voice of the people.<br /> This past year, many meetings were held with respect to the upcoming construction. The voice of the government or its minions, again made itself heard. With the design complete, they told us that they had deviated from the original design in which there was to be a turning lane in the middle of the road. They informed us that they were going to put a barrier the complete length of the road, with turning lanes at the intersections. They told us that they wanted this barrier to have landscaping etc. so that it would look nice. They informed us that if we wanted to go the opposite direction, that statistics showed that it would be safer to go to the intersection and make a U turn then to have a turning lane in the middle of the road.<br /> With many meetings on this issue, most people living on this street let it be known that the barrier was unacceptable. We felt we hadn’t been heard or were completely ignored. Neighborhood committee’s were formed and information was often exchanged. One of the state workers actually had the audacity to get up in a meeting about the barrier and say “it’s what everyone wants”! My response was “it’s good you’re serving cookies at these meetings, so at least one thing is not getting crammed down our throats”. I don’t know of anyone that wanted the barrier. Even our fair city didn’t want it, as they would have to help maintain the landscaping.<br /> The design build team, a consortium of companies building the road, held a meeting about ten days ago. They wanted the people to know what was happening with the construction, its schedule, and to answer questions from the people affected by the construction.<br /> It was a breath of fresh air to visit with these people. They’re the ones, basically where the rubber meets the road. They were considerate, polite, and as far as I could tell, want to make this thing work.<br /> The best thing to come from this meeting was that in their design, they removed the barrier except at intersections where a turning lane was required.<br /> At Last, someone finally listened to what the people want!Kenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620227604402443125noreply@blogger.com0