Father's Day

I love my dad, my father, my pops! Happy Father's Day.

on swinging

I love to swing. There is something magical about it, sitting in a park swaying back and forth watching the world go by. I have some good memories on the swing. I have some sad memories on the swing. Most of all I have some soothing memories on the swing. The swing is one of my favorite places to go. No matter what the mood a swing will accentuate the positive.

There is no telling when you might find me on a swing. I might be sitting on a swing in the morning, mid-day, or evening; perhaps most commonly in those still hours of early morning at the very start of a brand new day. In a former occupation I would on occasion stop by one of many parks on my way home to sway on a swing and reflect on the day, or on the world, or on eternity.Next to swaying to and fro beside a lovely young lady this is my favorite swing activity. The night is so pure, so still. It relaxes you. You can forget any troubles you might be burdened with. You can be alone with your thoughts, to open your mind and reflect. You can watch the world pass by slowly. And you do all that while flying!

A former prophet has said that an important characteristic in this life is to possess the ability to Be Still. The swing set provides me this sanctuary to escape the noisy traffic of the world and sit quietly, reflectively. Giving me an opportunity to understand me and the small part I play in this universe.

Swinging reminds me of my mother. We all know of the young child who is soothed as he is rocked gently in his mothers arms. Perhaps the swing is those soothing arms of a distant mother. Perhaps it is the loving rock of her protecting fold. There is something about that swaying, rocking motion that calms, relaxes, and pacifies. And the first place we experience that feeling is in the arms of Mother as she takes her new born baby in her arms and lovingly sways that gentle rhythm. It is no wonder then that such a motion has such miraculous power to calm. I wonder then, do mothers do it because it calms, or do children calm because mothers do it? I am willing to assert the later.

swing life away

What do you think about as you lie on your back in an open field staring up in to the deep sky, or sit atop a western cliff and watch the sun fall beyond the Pacific, or as you leisurely sway back and forth on a park swing at one o-clock in the morning? I will tell you what I think about. I'll tell you what I think about, I think about me. I think about what I have done, what I need to do, where I can do more, why I have been so blessed in my young life. I ask questions of myself. Sometimes the posts you find here are a product of those thoughts.

There was more to be said here but this is a fragile thought and was interrupted in its recording by a man who asked my assistance. And I obliged. Perhaps the thought is lost forever, never to return. Perhaps you might unknowingly read about it later in a future post. But I dare not write on in efforts to conceal this fractured thought. With some thoughts it is doable, and has been accomplished in the past...but not this one, this one is fragile. I am not sure why, but I recognize that it is.

Thoughts are seen in perspective, and perspective changes. Even with only a slight change of view the understanding of that observed thought can be spoiled, irrevocably changed. The thought might still live on but your understanding of that thought in that moment is lost. All because someone in need asked my help. It is called sacrifice; and those that don't loose much more than thought.

on cheese

As I sat eating my grilled cheese sandwich I thought, “this is the third cheese centered meal I have in the last two days.” The morning before I made myself a cheese omelet; cook an egg, grate a bunch of cheese onto it, fold it in half and vuala! For lunch that day my choices were limited so I whipped out the tortillas and made my dad and me several quesadillas. Mmmm… And then there is my grilled cheese sandwich. That does not include the cream cheese smothered bagel half I ate this morning. It can’t really say it was cheese centered, just cheese smothered. I love cheese! Cheese makes everything better. Like a Root Beer Float on a rough day, or a Band-Aid on a my nieces scraped knee. Cheese just takes food and says, "I make this taste good!" It is like a man and a woman, they are cool by themselves but put them together and they are so much more. Apples are good and tasty but when you take an apple wedge and a slice of cheese and eat them together you really have something, or some feta in a garden salad. And there are so many cheeses to choose from, if one doesn't suit you then there is still a plethora of choices; cheddar, Gouda, Havarti, Swiss, Mozzarella, nacho cheese, pepper jack, feta, blue cheese, Gorgonzola, Cotswold, Parmesan, wensleydale, string cheese, ricotta, Colby, and (if you must) "American Cheese," to name a very select few.

You can have it as h'orderves (cheese and crakers), appetizers (asiago cheese puffs), main course (cheese enchilladas), and dessert (cheese cake); and you wont get cheesed out. Oh ho ho, cheese cake; who can deny that Cheese cake is the best cake out there? In the cake world cheese once again takes first. And with frosting, why settle for plain chocolate frosting when you can have chocolate cream cheese frosting? cheese is everywhere and it is everything great! Cheese makes everything better. I love cheese.

tall people and kissing

I am tall. My whole family is on the taller side of the spectrum. Often times in a crowd I can easily pop my head up above the majority by standing on my tippy-toes to locate a brother and make my way to him. Frequently at social gatherings (parties, dances, or mixers,) I can remain within eyesight of any one of my brothers heads as we individually make are way around. This comes in quite useful. How do sort people do it? I can't imagine how long it would take to find a particular someone in a crowd in which everyone is taller than you. One might have to bust out her handy-dandy cell phone and throw down a text message as a kind of 21st century, cellular radar; bounce a radio signal off a couple of towers and a few bounces later it returns in a convenient textual form giving the precise location of the individual, relative to the surroundings . So anyway, being tall has its benefits after all.

You may be wondering by now where kissing plays into all this. Let me expound. My brother has a tall girlfriend. They are quite the couple and very cute (and tall) together. It hasn't been until recently that they have started showing there love for each other publicly. Most people know it as PDA. As they have however I have discovered something, EVERYBODY CAN SEE YOU kissing! It is like standing on a tower with a bull horn shouting "look at us, we love each other and we are going to show you." I don't know why I never noticed it before, as it is so right there in front of you, perhaps it is because my oldest brother is shorter than me and my other brother married a short girl, but this brother and his girlfriend are both taller than me (and I am not short). I gained a new perspective. I really don't care about PDA as long as it is not overly excessive, which I know this brother is not about to do. I just find it noteworthy.

a toast is in order

To more fully understand the type of relationship my brother Darren and I have I wish to share a few of his own words, as written while I was away on my mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is a blog post of his titled "Devon."

Saturday, February 26, 2005

Devon makes me smile.

He is four years younger than me but we once convinced our stylists at a barbershop that we were twins. Same last name similar first names, same height, similar eyes, they bought it.

I love him like nothing else in this world. He…shares with me in the joy of riding bikes and simply being outside. Even if it was doing chores, if we were doing it together it was fun.

We didn't need words, Devon and I, a look and we could tell by each others eyes what we were about to do, how we would do it, and who we would do it to. The random clever remark and frequent Douglas Adams quotes were bonuses.

We are very different people, he and I. I call him my evil twin…because where I am outgoing and an aspiring leader he is fairly reserved, where I am always distracted by something new to do or learn, he patiently masters complex skills. But this is what makes him perfect, he balances me out and makes me smile.

This week is the half way point Devon has been gone one year, one more year until he comes home.

One more year until I am whole again.

I love my brother Darren! A lot has happened since Darren wrote this, he has grown, I have grown, and we have both change, as well as many other parts of our lives. Change is a certainty of life.

I have been a catalyst, a temporary fill in until he found that perfect someone, that girl that might 'balance him out and make him smile.' He has finally found that someone. Ryann is that someone. And they sure do a good job at balancing each other out; Darren is tall, Ryann is short. Darren manages with little sleep and copes with early morning activities, Ryann could easily sleep through lunch if she got the chance. Ryann is meticulous and selective, Darren can often care less. But there is much more than that to their relationship. I have spent much time with the two of them as they would do things together, and often told of other times when I wasn't there. Darren and Ryann have fun together, they create together and have from the beginning cared for each other. What ever they do, when they do it together they fluently submerse themselves in a sea of buoyancy and cheer.

Ryann completes Darren in a perfect way; in a way that I never could. I joyously welcome her as my newest sister-in-law. I willingly, and lovingly, relinquish my standing in Darren’s life to Ryann, the love of his life, his better half, my friend. I may remain his evil twin but she is his saving angel.

Ryann and Darren- Fight change. If you must change, change together. Laugh together, Love each other, and Share that love with others.

superheroes

Kids rarely know what is good for them. Personally as a kid I wasn’t too bad (I think so anyway, hopefully my parents feel the same way.) I took my baths, I ate my veggies, I went to bed; I wasn’t the best at school work. Anyway, that’s not the point, what I had the most trouble with, along with most of my brothers, was Dad. My dad was a big-bearded, scary-looking, redheaded, work enforcing, terrifier of youth. I was certainly scared of him. I recall thinking of him at times as a slave driver, and guess who the slave was. Oh yeah. Not fun. I was mowing lawns before I was as tall as the lawn mower. Weeding flowerbeds, painting fences, clearing debris, hauling firewood, you name it, never was there nothing to do. My brothers and I were not interested. We felt we had better things to do; climbing trees, watching TV, video and computer games, reading books, playing with friends, whatever little boys like to do.

Fortunately I grew up. I realized my dad was not what I imagined him to be. I realized that I had no idea what was good for me. I know now that my dad knew what he was doing and I am extremely thankful for him. He has become my example, my idol. He is my everyday superhero. I have not read of any superhero that can match my dad in ability, achievement, knowledge, bravery, fortitude, valor, or genuine greatness. My dad tops them all. Though my childhood may have not been full of fun and games it was full of learning and experience. As an adult I understand and cherish my dads foresight in limiting what I thought then was good for me. Elbert Hubbard is accredited with saying, “Where parents do too much for their children, the children will not do much for themselves.” I am forever thankful to my dad for not doing too much for me as I see my peers who were not fortunate enough to have a superhero dad. Dads truly are real life superheroes. To the child’s eye they seem indestructible. They know everything, and seem at times to be capable of anything. It is unfortunate that some kids grow into a clouded perception of his or her father. I love my superhero dad and am glad I am one of the lucky few to consider him my father. May each of us remember our dads as the superheroes we once held them to be. Happy Father’s Day Pops!