Grandpa Reed

I've posted several times about my grandpa (almost all of these posts have him in them), but this post is the hardest to write. The thing is, this beloved grandpa of mine just said goodbye to this world.

Let me tell you a story about my grandpa. It starts like this: when I was little, we didn't have the best relationship. We didn't fight or anything, but I certainly didn't feel close to him and it might even have been bordering on being scared of him, such as when he would twist my ear as he asked me if I had a clean room. You see, Grandpa just wasn't a fan of being warm and fuzzy. I remember walking in on a fight he and Grandma were having about whether the word "surprise" had two Rs or one, and he wasn't happy with the answer that his spelling bee champion granddaughter gave.

He liked to do things his way and if you didn't do something his way, he would make you quit and do it himself, like the time he took a broom away from my dad because he wanted to show him how to sweep his driveway. (He did similar things to me and everyone.) Or the time when my aunt and uncle moved his sprinkler in from the corner so he would stop complaining about people running over it, and he moved it back (correct me if I'm wrong here). I guess some of it was provoked. I remember my cousin Ginger and I purposely messing up the rug in front of the door because he had complained so much about it. ("Who keeps messing up this rug?!?!") Whatever the case, Grandpa was not Grandpa. He was Grumpy. (I still don't know to this day if he knew we called him that.)

But that didn't mean that he didn't do things that impressed me. He and my grandma always gathered his family together once a month for a huge dinner. He was known to give generous amounts of dollar bills that were so brand-spanking-new that they were still attached like a notepad and emitted a fabulous smell. Because of Grandpa, the Fourth of July is my favorite holiday, since it generally consisted of breakfast in Brighton with family, a march in the parade, a few candy-throwing adventures (though the direction of the throwing changed over the years, and I know some of you know what I'm talking about), and maybe a hike in my beloved Big Cottonwood Canyon. Grandma and Grandpa made Christmas Eve the best night of the year, where, surrounded by family, we would eat til we couldn't move, talk, act out the Christmas Nativity with Grandpa reading from Luke, talk as we waited for Santa to show up, excitedly sit on Santa's knee (though the "excitedly" was some years more show than anything) to receive our presents that came out of a bag Grandpa selected from, and addressed to us in handwriting that seemed somehow familiar. Oh, how I missed that night the last two years.

But then again, just for some more contrast, let's not forget how Grandpa was generous about helping out with home remodeling, only to ignore your wishes and pay for what he thought would be good—the Grandpa-selected storm door, the shelves built by Don Whipperman, and the painted cement floor instead of tile.

However, a miracle happened. Grandpa just got better and better during and after the years when my grandma was sick with cancer. His strong opinions did not disappear, but his general grumpiness softened and the whole family saw a side of him we had never seen before. Maybe the credit should go to my grandma's prayers, desiring not to die until she had a better relationship with him. Or maybe it should go to the fact that he was retired (he once told Amy that was the reason). Whatever the case, Grumpy disappeared and Grandpa took his place. I think that was why I admired him so much.

But that's not what built our relationship. After Grandma died, I decided I wanted to be closer to Grandpa and to support him now that he was without his love. It started with me visiting him more often. I brought my boyfriends and potential boyfriends there to meet him, always enjoying one of his famous frozen cookies dunked in milk and maybe a glass of his and Grandma's famous grape juice. Being there more often meant I started helping out with little things, like cleaning the dishes. As Grandpa saw I was willing to help, or maybe as I was available, he started asking me for things.

He would ask me to type a letter for him and marvel at how fast it was done. He would call me from his land line to come help him figure out his cell phone, which he never used but which he liked to look at because of the picture of Grandma on the screen. With both of us being believers in work being equal to love, pretty soon, there was a general feeling of comfort between us. We didn't always expect anything of each other, but we knew that if we asked, we would get what we needed.

I knew Grandpa liked his yard to look nice, so one time I snuck into his backyard in the early morning and swept up all the leaves. Another time, I weeded his flowerbeds. Doing things that way was a lot more fun, because he hadn't asked for it, and truth be told, he didn't come out to check on your work. :) Nevertheless, I learned to laugh at the stubborness he had retained and he always seemed surprised when I lightly teased him about it—he would grumble a little and stop his remarks.

I recognized myself in him as a hard worker who had little tolerance for laziness, people not measuring up to my expectations, or people doing things a different way than I would have. I didn't give up on the crazy job I loved because of his marvelous example to me that people can change, that I could change—though his trademark "you just have to be careful!" still came out at regular intervals, even in relation to moves the Jazz made in basketball games.

With things at work getting more and more complicated, my dating life being roller coaster-ish, my uncertainty about what to do with my life, and my unwillingness to open up to my parents, Grandpa's house was my emotional getaway. I would leave my house at a full-out run, letting all my tears out, and by the time I got to Grandpa's, I could just forget about the outside world, either working for Grandpa or just by enjoying his company. I could stay at Grandpa's for hours, playing the piano or reading the newspaper while he watched TV or read a book. Sometimes we would watch his favorite show, Matlock, together, with chilled cans of Kern's fruit juice in our hands. When he felt up to it, we would work in his garden, where he wanted tall tulips, short green grass, and colorful petunias. Once we planted strawberries together.

In the last several years, Grandpa loved reading LDS fiction (which just goes to show you how much he'd softened up). He read book after book and always tried to offer them to me, about how the story was just so sweet and reminded him of his Edie, but they just weren't my thing. I think I got through part of one. He picked up many of those books at the library where my librarian friends would see him. Sometimes they'd even talk to each other about finding a nice young man for me. Since I was also often at the library, and my holds were next to his in the "G" section for "Glauser," I would see what he was going to read or watch. One time, I wrote a note on the hold slip for him. He was absolutely delighted.

Though we didn't share a love for LDS fiction, we enjoyed some movies together. On one rainy Saturday, we got together to watch a movie that could be labeled as a chickflick. Instead of thinking it was cheesy, he enjoyed it just as much as I did. We both cried during the unrequited love parts. At the end of the film, we both sighed and sat there, lonely—he for his beloved wife, and me for that future guy. We were lonely, but not alone, a comfort to each other.

Grandpa and I also shared a sweet tooth, meaning he offered me ice cream with strawberries or chocolate-covered raisins whenever I showed up.

I often was able to extend an invitation for him to eat with us (thanks Mom and Dad) on Sundays and always delightedly greeted him at his car, offering him my elbow to get those stiff joints out of the car and up the stairs. It was at one of those Sunday dinners that he first announced "Michelle is my favorite grandchild." Though it probably wasn't very nice to say it, I don't think it was a surprise to anyone, and it pleased me. It was also during these dinners that he got to know my best friend Tanya. I was always surprised when he asked about her, saying that she was such a nice girl.

One summer day, though a cheapskate (something else I got from Grandpa), I decided to build up my financial credit with my first credit card, and buy a watch at Fred Meyer's Smith's Marketplace. I planned to stop at Grandpa's and then take the bus there, but when I told Grandpa of my plan, he said it was silly to spend so much on a watch (I think it was $70 or $80) and promptly let me drive us to Wal-Mart in his car. There, he bought me a $10 watch (and asked the lady at the counter to adjust it to fit my wrist) and a pair of earrings "so I would look pretty for my date" that night, reminding me that he prayed for me to "find a nice young man to marry" every day.

After that, he let me drive him often, grumbling about the seatbelt and brakes. And though some would find his errands tedious, I loved spending the time with him and checking things off his list, even if it involved complaining to glasses stores employees about how expensive glasses were. He would usually reward me by taking me out to lunch, where he would joke to everyone that I was his date.

When Grandpa was having some health problems (more than usual) and had a catheter, while others complained about the smell, I went and did what I could to deal with it. I almost lost my cookies several times while scrubbing his bathroom floor, but I finished the job out of love for him.

Then, when Grandpa was at a retirement center for a short time, he let me take his car. We all picked up some things from his house for him, but when he wanted to go home for a while himself, since I had his car, I got to take him. I pushed him to the car in his wheelchair and loaded and unloaded that freakingly heavy peace of metal into and out of the car just for him. Though we were both grumpy that day, that didn't stop him from beckoning to every nurse we saw and bragging about me upon our return to the retirement center.

I could recount a billion other memories, like the half-full cans of pop at the cabin that were the bane of his existence, or how he once assigned his grandchildren numbers (I'm number 9), or the time at my brother's baseball game when he dared me to throw a ball at a guy who had a circle on the bum of his shorts and then did it himself and pretended not to noticed anything, or how he started taking piano lessons using the book "Teaching Little Fingers to Play" after retiring . . . but I'll move on to the rest of the story.

One day, Grandpa declared that he'd dreamt about taking the whole family on a cruise instead of buying a new car for himself. He excitedly planned with the help of one of my uncles and a travel consultant, and we all were looking forward to the trip.

It was about this time that I was having some real trials at work that led to finishing up over 200 pages of training documents and saying goodbye to the job I had given up so much for. I struggled to find myself and spent hours just seeking some therapeutic nothingness, but I knew I had to get away. However, I pushed those feelings back, just because I wanted to be able to be there for Grandpa on his extravagant cruise.

Some of my old dreams resurfaced, and I walked to the nearest post office to send applications to faraway places. When I got in to two German universities, I avoided telling anyone for a while because I couldn't bear to think about leaving Grandpa behind. Somehow I made it to the cruise and as my parents, siblings, and Grandpa all sat at one table, I made my announcement. Grandpa told me he was proud of me, but, getting teary-eyed, that he sure would miss me. Then he immediately said something typical of Grandpa: "I think I'll make Sica my new special assistant." Ouch. Thanks. Knowing Grandpa, I felt just a bit of jealousy before I realized what a great privilege that would be for Sica and laughed it off.

When I got to Leipzig, I called him using Skype more often than I called anyone else in the U.S. Even if he didn't answer, I would laugh to hear him say, "I'm not here in my home right now. Please leave me a meh-siege [that's the way he says "message"]." I sent him postcards once in a while, and each Saturday when the jokes would come out at keepapitchinin.org, I would forward them to him and my dad. I never knew if he read them, but I imagined him opening his email now and then and chuckling a bit as he pushed "print."

Hearing from my dad that Grandpa probably wasn't going to make it much longer was extremely hard. My mom said that he wasn't himself and I wouldn't want to see him like that, but I kept thinking, "I'm his favorite grandchild, and I'm not there when he needs me." At the very least, I didn't want to be alone when he went. For a week, I prayed that he would live, though I know very well that I will see him in the world to come. I felt awful keeping him in such a state of suffering and with his own desire to move on to the next life. Then I prayed for him to live, but if he needed to go, that he would be able to "go gently into that good night."

Finally, after two weeks of stressing out over him and my master's thesis, I booked a ticket despite my impending due date and lack of funds. Then I prayed and fasted that he would live long enough for me to see him again, or that I could at least be there to honor him at the funeral.

He passed away four hours ago.

I'll be playing the organ at his funeral which will most likely be this coming Friday. On Saturday, we'll celebrate the Fourth of July just as he'd want us to.

That old guy, who could be crabby and funny and generous all at the same time. I sure loved him.

Conversations with My Dear, Dear Grandpa

Here's an example of one of those funny conversations that my grandpa and I have:

Grandpa: "I decided I'm not going to go to church tomorrow. It's just too much trouble."

He was referring to the fact that he has a fracture in his hip that is in the healing process. Having just seen him walk faster than he usually does because of the aid of a walker, I responded:

"Oh yeah, getting in and out of the car can be troublesome. We could take you to church tomorrow."

Grandpa: "No, it's just too much trouble."

Me: "I think you really just don't want to go because you don't want to have people asking what happened to you." (Who else besides his "favorite granddaughter" could get away with saying that?)

Granpda: "Yep."

Me: "I don't think that's a very good reason not to go to church."

Grandpa: "It's a perfectly good reason!"

I don't think I responded at this point, but I did think, "If that was a perfectly good reason, there would be a lot of times in your life when you wouldn't go."

Grandpa makes me laugh. Here's an example from a few weeks ago:

Grandpa: "You'd make a great nurse."

Me: "No way! I'd hate to be a nurse."

Grandpa: "Then don't be a nurse!"

Me: "Okay, I won't!"

Grandpa and I are a lot alike. I think there are many reasons that I have gotten closer to him in the past couple of years. One might be that I realized when Grandma died that Grandpa would eventually, too, and I should get to know him better by serving him. Another might be that I see a lot of similarities between Grandpa and I. I feel like I am a blunt, sometimes bossy penny pincher like he is, and I've gotten in trouble for it. However, I see that he has gotten in trouble for it in his life and he has found ways to improve. It intrigues me when I see the wonderful changes in him. He used to seem distant and grumpy and bossy, but he lightened up and learned to really love people when Grandma was fighting cancer. Why not learn earlier in life by seeing someone who already has gone through it? I sure love Grandpa and I hope he'll be around when I get back from Germany. He says he will. I'm going to miss him so much. It's interesting how serving someone can make you love them so much. It goes to show that people don't need to do things to earn your love. You need to do things for them to love them.

I Can See!

The last few years, I've noticed more and more that I can't see very far. This is very disappointing after having LASIK 8.5 years ago. I know it's not too out of the ordinary to need adjustments, but my siblings who have had LASIK haven't had any trouble. I'm pretty sure that working at a computer all day doesn't help.

Two years ago, I went to an eye doctor who told me that my sight really wasn't as bad as I thought it was and that I could just do some eye exercises. I've done a lot of those exercises and have just noticed my eyes getting worse. And while I know it could be much, much worse, it's embarrassing when I don't see people who know me. It's annoying when I can't see street signs before I need to get ready to turn. It's tiring to forever be squinting. It's boring to go to Michael's basketball games and not be able to see him.

I finally decided to see a new doctor about my poor eyesight—just as soon as one of us gets benefits.

And then I talked to a friend who said that his vision was really bad when he was little and his mom couldn't afford to get him glasses until he was 12. He used to get so tired from leaning right next to a book on a table that he'd just read with his head on the table. I told him about my grandpa (Clyde Smith) who had had troubles in school until his dad suggested they get his eyes checked. Once my grandpa and my friend had corrective lenses, they were both amazed to see leaves on trees and blades of grass. Whenever my mom tells this story about my grandpa, she says, "And so he became an artist." I don't know if there's really a link there, but I like that, and when I look closely at the painting that I inherited from my grandpa, I like seeing all of the colors he was able to see that make a painted face look realistic.

After talking to my friend, I started thinking about how I wanted to be able to really see India when we go for our friend Gunjan's wedding. I realized that it wasn't worth it to me to wait until we have benefits. Maybe I'll get a LASIK adjustment later, but for now, I want to be able to see! I was able to schedule an appointment with an optometrist at Costco for just a few days later. For $114, I was given a prescription and a trial pair of contacts. I was able to put them right in, and the doctor said, "It's like learning to ride a bicycle. You never forget." When I walked out to the waiting room, the first thing I said to Michael was, "I can see you!"

All through Costco and the whole way home, I exclaimed about how much I could see. It was crazy to realize how much I’ve been missing out on. I really wish that eye doctor two years ago and not wanting to pay for an appointment without insurance hadn’t made me delay the beauty of being able to see clearly. It was eye-opening (ha ha, that’s punny) to know that I could have seen signs a few streets away, that I could have seen down aisles to know what’s there without having to walk down them, to see people’s faces without having to squint! The next morning, I was again amazed when I noticed that I could see license plate numbers from our apartment. And each time I've taken out the contacts since, I take one out first and then take turns closing eyes to marvel at just how blurry my world had become.


Look at the pretty flowers I was missing out on! Thanks for inspiring me to go to the doctor, friend.
 

Yes, part of me is in mourning that I have to deal with contacts again. Yes, my eyes feel dry and I keep forgetting not to squint and lean in really close, and yes, the contacts feel a bit irritating sometimes, but I can see! And that is a beautiful thing totally worth $114.

New Watch from Grandpa

I needed a new watch. Mom told me that I'd never be able to build my credit without buying anything. So, I picked one out at Fred Meyer's Jewelers and it was on my list of things to do in the second week of August. I also stopped by Grandpa's house and wanted to go to Granato's to get Mike's birthday present. It turned out that Grandpa convinced me a watch worth 10 dollars was just as good as any other and he made me go to Walmart with him. There, he pointed out all sorts of watches that I didn't care for, until there was finally one that I was okay with. He talked to the lady at the jewelry counter and told her that I was going on a date that night. I was looking at earrings, so he bought me some earrings too! I sure love Grandpa, and not just because of his generosity. I see a lot of myself in him and I want to follow his example. I am such a tightwad who doesn't like it when people don't do things my way. I remember how we used to call him "Grumpy," and I wonder if I'm headed in that direction. He has become the sweetest, friendliest person and I hope that I can soften up like he did. The date went well with Dave Warner. We chipped golf balls into a bucket in his backyard after dinner. Even though he's been doing that for years, I beat him during one round.

Grandpa's Cell Phone!

Here is Grandpa with his new cell phone that we let him have during the summer! I love Grandpa so much. Today I jogged up to his house and snuck around in his backyard, sweeping leaves. It was great fun! I felt like one of those shoe elves. Kota kept getting excited and barking, and I had to say, "Shhh! I know you love Grandpa, but you'll wake him up!"

June Write-Away Contest

Here is my June write-away submission for the blog Scribbit. It didn't turn out quite like I wanted it, but the deadline is today, so I don't have time to revise. It explores some deep parts of my life and I don't have a title I like yet.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

When I graduated from high school, the traditional graduation gift was given to me: Dr. Seuss’s book Oh, the Places You’ll Go! With its swirling colors and lofty aspirations, I’m sure the gift giver thought that I would love it as a book from one book lover to another. The thought was nice, but vague goals in childish fantasy were not for me. I put the book on my shelf and forgot about it. I had higher education to pursue and dates to go on. I had money to earn and adventures to experience. A few harsh heartbreaks, two study abroad programs, one job, and a bachelor’s degree later, my next goal was to go on that mission for my church that I had wanted to go on since spending a day with the sisters in Atlanta, Georgia.

Accomplishing this was easier said than done. I rejoiced that the time had come; I attended a plethora of institute classes, I was a frequenter of the Sunday-morning mission prep class, I saw the required doctors, I got the classy collared-shirt picture taken, and I sent in the application with gusto. My family, ward, and friends were excited to see where I would go, but no one could have been more excited than I. The week the call was to arrive, I pulled some strings through a friend to go pick up the call instead of waiting for it to be sent to my house.

Even after the envelope was safely in my bag, my mind was on it as I made my way home. Once I was sitting on my bed, I opened the package. It was all nicely arranged, with pictures of what kind of clothing would be acceptable, a little something from my mission president, and of course the mission I would be serving in and when I was expected to show up at the training center. I don’t know if I was awaiting some sublime moment, but I felt instead rather disconnected, as if it was unreal. Waiting to tell my family and friends where I had been called to until that night left time all during my brother’s wrestling meet to think about the call to serve. No meaning came to me. It was simply a place, a place I would work in, sweat in, love in, learn in—a fact I tried to come to terms with.

As expected, my family and friends rejoiced, but as the weeks passed, I found my thoughts wandering. I was thinking about what I would do afterwards; that year and a half took a blank space in my mind, even though it was something I prepared for every day.

I wasn’t afraid of learning a new language, in fact, I had secretly hoped for the opportunity (even if was just to improve my limited German skills). It wasn’t just that I couldn’t see myself serving in the country where I had been called. I couldn’t see myself serving at all anymore. Myself as a missionary was not an image that fit, and for someone with a very vivid imagination, that was big-time. I reprimanded myself for my disloyal thoughts. After all, when I set my mind to something, I’m going to do it! I prayed and studied harder, but I became more and more confused. I turned to a boy I was dating to see what potential was there. I needed to know if that was why I was confused, but I was unable to find any assurance. My mom saw my inner turmoil and said one night that maybe I wasn’t supposed to go, which annoyed me. “God wouldn’t curse me for serving Him,” I said. I’m just nervous, I told myself over and over. I just need to go and do what’s right.

I read talk after talk from church authorities telling people to put aside their selfishness and to go out and serve, but one scene kept replaying itself in my mind: I had asked my stake president (a church leader) several months before how girls knew if they were supposed to go. He had answered simply, “Your desire to serve is your answer,” which had completely satisfied me at the time, because I had that desire burning within me. Where was the desire to serve now and why had it vanished? What was I doing wrong? I searched and searched for some kind of reassurance, for some kind of motivation, but I found none. Life turned to chaos, bedlam, uncertainty, even though everything was going smoothly.

My bishop (congregation leader) advised me to go to the temple. Part of me wanted to be obedient and justified in my mind that the temple can never be a bad thing, but the other part of me said that it wasn’t the right time. One day that I scheduled to go found me in the worst mood. Until then, I had been internally confused, but that day I was unable to keep myself from snapping at others and I felt like crying the whole day. I finally canceled the trip, saying I would go later. In the meantime, confusion built to the point that I thought I was either going to have to find peace or I would explode from this personal turmoil.

One cold January morning, standing at the bus stop on a cold morning, I called my sister. Usually in times of stress, I called her and relayed events to her, but this time, I couldn’t complain about work or social life or family or money. I had nothing to convey but a feeling. I felt miserable as I tried to put my confusion into words, as I cried about my inability to understand what was happening, as I was unable to swallow anymore because the pain in my throat was so bad. As always, my patient and wise sister had the kind of answer that helped me understand the answer I had already received. As soon as I said, “I’m so confused, I don’t even know what I’m confused about,” she said, “Helllllooo, you know this already. That’s a stupor of thought. You just need to let go and think for just one minute what would happen if you didn’t go.”

For several hours, I fought the idea anyway. Of course I was going to go. I’d wanted to for so long! This was what I had aimed for, and nothing could take me from my goal, but fighting so hard against the obvious drained me. I don’t remember where I was, but I remember the feeling. The exact moment I allowed myself to think that maybe I shouldn’t go, it was like being able to fall asleep in the middle of a loud and rowdy concert. I felt peace for the first time in a month. I was aware that I was alive, that there was something for me, that I had been fighting my answer for the last month. I knew that I wasn’t to go on this mission and that that was okay.

Nevertheless, I waited about a week to tell anyone. I wanted to make sure this feeling was consistent. I enjoyed the fruits of the peace; I flew through everyday events with a smile on my face and a laugh in my eyes. Three days after I had decided and four days before I told anyone, my boss called me at home. He said he didn’t know why since I would be leaving so soon, but he felt like he should promote me. This of course complicated things, as it then looked to jealous coworkers like I gave up the mission because I had been promoted. I didn’t care what they thought because I had my answer and I knew I had made the right decision.

My change in plans surprised friends and family (immediate family not so much, I think), but they were supportive, sometimes too supportive. Everyone seemed to have the idea that it must be because I was going to get married instead. It’s true that a newly-budding relationship with a wonderful young man was something I looked forward to after each busy but happy day in my new position at work. But when that relationship ended, I found myself in personal crisis. The peace and happiness of having made the right decision about the mission had worn off. Wait a second, I thought, I wanted to go on that mission! What am I doing!? I finally recognized the loss of a goal I had so eagerly looked forward to and I mourned it. I was done with my bachelor’s, and the natural thing to follow in my mind had always been the mission. I still knew that I had made the right decision, but my life had been future goal-oriented for so long that I had no idea what to do without a goal.

Work became my new goal because it was there; as my life, it helped me ignore the fact that I didn’t know what I was aiming for. In a way, it became my mission as I worked with senior missionaries. When problems arose, I aimed to not give up until I had overcome the challenges. However, the job always felt temporary. And when it got to the point that I realized some problems can never be overcome, I poured my soul into finishing everything I started, which took a few excruciating months when things just seemed to get worse and worse. The day my biggest project was finished, I told my boss I wasn’t coming back the next day. We both mourned, but I needed to move on. I needed to deal with this lack of goals and find some meaning.

The next few months were some of the hardest in my life. I took a short-term job only to reject it five days later; I needed time to myself, time to recuperate, time to lay in the sunlight and do nothing. I read and pondered and slept a lot. I practiced the piano more than I had in years. My spotty jogging habit became an intense outlet for my stress. I would run as hard as I could and cry as hard as I could. I knew that I needed to get away, that I needed a new beginning.

I began looking, though one thing held me back: my jogging had brought me regularly to visit my grandpa, with whom I now had a strong relationship. I could see myself in his life. Somewhere between getting married and retiring, he had turned into a strict, grumpy person, during which time I was born. I got to know him in this phase, and I stayed away from him because of it, calling him “Grumpy” instead of “Grandpa.” After his retirement and during the sickness and death of my grandmother, something happened that no one in the family could explain. “Grumpy” became “Grandpa.” He was softened somehow. Still a stubborn individual, he loved people more than he had ever shown before. Generous to all organizations, regular studier of the gospel, a new lover of Mormon romance novels, this grandpa was one I had never known. He would invite me to watch movies with him, eat breakfast at his house, accompany him to plays, and read his old books (which didn’t suit me, but which was kind of him). I saw that it was possible to change for the better and that my situation wasn’t hopeless. I rejoiced when I could help him by weeding his garden while he wasn’t home, or by putting clean sheets on his bed. With his health getting worse, I knew I needed to spend as much time with him as possible.

Grandpa had decided to take the whole family on a cruise, which I wasn’t going to miss out on. I felt like it was the last big thing I could do for my grandpa, to be there for the present that had excited him for months. There were days when I thought I would have to leave before the cruise or I would die, but I didn’t know where I should go anyway. Mini trips temporarily satisfied my wanderlust and acted as therapy: I rock climbed in Moab, river rafted through Idaho, Oregon, and Washington, hiked into the Grand Canyon, and drove through Costa Rica.

I began to revive the old idea that I was going places and I was excited by the possibilities. I updated my resume and filled out applications. When I was accepted to two universities in Germany, I couldn’t believe my luck. The two oldest universities (nearly 600 years old) in Germany wanted me! I could combine so many interests: German, traveling, a Master’s Degree, the study of literature, etc. During the cruise, I announced my intention to move to Germany. Grandpa hugged me and told me he was proud of me, but he got teary-eyed when he said he would miss me. With his well wishes, and the knowledge of his love, I could move on.

I booked the flight to Leipzig and included weeks in Boston, Manchester, and London along the way. Leipzig was an unknown city with unknown people, but so were Boston and London, and they both ended up being wonderful experiences where I met many people and saw enough sights to make me love both cities. A new friend in Boston said she felt like it was meant to be that we met. She told me that her first semester away from her family was the hardest, that she had to learn that when no one else is there, God is. When I finally arrived in Leipzig, I was eager to take on the challenge of a new city, a new church congregation, a new language, a new school, new friends.

Amazingly, it hasn’t been hard. I immediately loved the city and everything about it upon arrival. I now understand the trials of life in new ways. I have built my trust in God more than ever before and have been showered with blessings, among which I count the fact that homesickness has never been a problem. I have re-learned that friends are to be found everywhere, that there is always a reason to smile and laugh, that I can accomplish anything because of my faith. My involvement at church has kept me sane; it is something I can always rely on and put my energy into when other things are frustrating.

I can see that a lot of satisfaction in my life has been and is based on being able to work towards a clear goal. Looking forward, I fear the day that I will be done with institutional education. There may be further goals to carry me on, but will I some day become bored with my role either in a job or in a family of my own? In other words, the success that all of my life has lead up to doesn’t sound satisfying. It sounds rather fearful to settle down in the way acceptable to society. Setting “die happy and faithful surrounded by family” as a goal seems too far-off and vague. I yearn for something concrete. I yearn for new experiences and cultures. I fear my way of assessing progress will bring me down if that want isn’t met. However, looking backward, I know that each step in my life was guided. The Lord was telling me that if I wanted to go places, I would go places with Him. And now I need to find the faith and trust to know that He knows best, that he wants me to be happy, and that He will continue to take me places.

Grumpy and Stubborn

Put together two grumpy, stubborn relatives for a morning, and what do you get? My grandpa and I. Grandpa had a lovely time this morning telling me what to do for him. I felt bad later that I wasn't nicer, I just yearned for a few more pleases instead of orders. In the end, I would do anything for grandpa, even if it involves emptying catheter bags and carrying wheelchairs that weigh more than I do.

Mezuzah

I used this website to find out about the mezuzah I got from Grandpa. It is now hanging sideways in my entrance as it should be. I remember when Grandpa wrote a letter to the editor about tolerance and understanding between religious groups and talked about the mezuzah. Although I didn't know much about the mezuzah, I transferred a kiss from finger to mezuzah whenever I left his house.

Though everything about this inherited mezuzah is not according to Jewish custom, I like the symbolism. It stands as a reminder to me of Grandpa's example, of the covenants I have made with God to keep His commandments, of my love for the Lord, of a focus on passing the gospel on to future generations, and lastly, of the blessings attached.

You can read the scriptures in the mezuzah here (4-9) and here (13-21).

Dapper December

A few weeks ago, I bought a laptop for approximately 600 bucks. After the madhouse on Thanksgiving, I was grateful to make a phone call, walk into Circuit City, and wait in line for twenty minutes. It worked for a few days and then the internet went weird when I tried to use the plug-in at the FHL. After two useless, slow, and frustrating chat sessions with HP online techs, my brother-in-law arrived on the scene and fixed it by pinging google or something. Yay! Then my cousin Cameron told me how to get my DVDs onto the hard drive--by downloading DVD Shrink onto my computer. Anyway, I'm still concerned about that because the region of my DVD player can only be changed four times and right now it's set to Region 2, meaning my German movies can be played and shrunk, but not the others. Darn money-making tricksters! Anyway, Dad and I took Grandpa to dialysis. They couldn't find a straight way in. They said the fistula was bad and didn't do dialysis. Unfortunately, Dad and I had left, so he sat there for a few hours. I guess he was waiting for some blood test results, but he could have done that at home. He took us to lunch at Marie Calendar's. I don't know if I've ever eaten there. It was great. Dad and I ordered breaded, fried appetizers for ourselves, and I got a soup and sandwich. There was a whole feast left over. Then we went to Grandpa's and helped Laurie's family decorate. Sica and I went to Kalai later that night. That was frustrating for several reasons: Tanya said she'd be at our house at the latest at 6:15, even though I said we'd be leaving at 6:10, but she didn't arrive til closer to 6:30, so Sica had left to go pick up a bunch of other people. Then Tanya arrived and was upset that she had left a movie early and didn't know how it ended. She kept saying that she could have stayed because Sica wasn't back yet, but that was why Sica had left, because she was late. Oh well. It happens. I can't complain because I definitely have been late too many times to count. Not that I like being late. Anyway, then Mom said she wanted me to drive, not Sica. So, I drove. I got A.J. to come, and I was trying to be personable, but I was frustrated and in a hurry. I missed the exit. We got off elsewhere, didn't know where we were, turned around, etc. All of this might have been semi-okay, except Sica was openly being mean to me from the back seat and I was really getting pissed off. In front of all those people. I finally said, "Sica, I think I've put up with $10 worth of persecution from you. If you don't stop it, I'm not paying for this concert." We got there, they ran inside, and it was freezing! Inside, they hadn't even started. When they did, they said to turn off your cell phones, which I promptly did. When I moved in my chair, my phone went flying and I couldn't find it anywhere. I couldn't have someone call it, because it was off. There's only so much looking under chairs you can do while a concert is going on, and the guys in front of us looked under their chairs and couldn't find it. Of course, it was constantly on my mind. Where's my phone? Where's my phone? As soon as this is over, I'll crawl down there and look under all the seats. But then I'll look stupid to A.J. with my bum sticking in the air. Whatever. WHERE did it go?! Stupid! The concert went on for THREE hours! THREE! I decided that Kalai is a good musician and totally a wannabe pothead and that his music would be fine for me coming from a speaker. It was good, but not exciting enough for a concert. No one even stood up, they never turned the lights off, people just sat there and dozed off while Kalai told weird stories. Where did my phone go? A.J. totally slept for a bit on my shoulder. He is so tall. He made fun of the three people in front of us: two guys and a girl. One of the guys kept leaning his head on the other guy's shoulder and just getting really snuggly with him. But then he'd turn and talk to the girl really close. We joked that he had two dates. What if I can't find my phone? Finally, the concert ended, the phone was right under the chair of the guy who checked and who sat there while his friend schmoozed on him.

I also lost my phone on TRAX. I must have called a billion times, especially after I got back from Sunday dinner and discovered that someone had called my blackberry, our house, and mom's cell phone from my phone. No one answered. I even had Sica text it, meaning I'd have to pay for the text. I hate text messages. People just think they can text you, but it's terribly rude to make someone pay ten cents for you to say happy birthday to them or to tell them about some huge party that they would never go to anyway. I walked to the UTA lost and found and got it. Yay!

The missionaries put together the Christmas work party. They kind of forgot to tell any employees about it, so I asked Elder Draper to make sure that employees were specifically invited. He encouraged the missionaries to ask individual employees, and had Sherri make invitations. Some people wouldn't go. They had stupid excuses, like it would take too long to get there on time when they got off work at 2:30. (The party was at 6:30.) Unfortunately, although I think they are unhappy with their jobs, it would have been good for them. I wonder at least three times a day: if they don't like their jobs, why in the world are they still working here? WHY? Seriously, they're just making it harder for the people who do enjoy their jobs to keep enjoying. Well, the party was kind of funny. Getting keys was crazy. No one could believe I had gotten the church on a Monday night. I kept saying, "It's because it's for the Family History Library missionaries." Mom and I went to check out the setting up. They had really old lady-ish decorations. These old guys started coming in with green blazers. Apparently it was Elder Pope's singing group, the Utah Valley Singers. Not only did they sing, they recited poetry (typical of Elder Pope, he is an amazing poet), told jokes and a funny story, as well as had a soloist whistler! Dad came to the party with me and we joked about a guy whistling a Christmas song for entertainment. I filmed it on Mom's camera. I got pictures of everyone (I hope). Wil's family sat at my table. I can finally tell who is who. I talked to Alyssa as much as possible, but she's having a crazy time right now in her life and she was a bit shy. Dad talked to Ben the whole time about scouting and the jamboree. Even the food was old lady-ish, but I really enjoyed the party nevertheless. The cleanup was super fast. People kept thanking me the next day for the party. I didn't really do anything, so I told them so. I never paid six dollars for Dad and I, but I don't think I need to, because I saw Sister Draper trying to push some money on Sister Williams who said, "You already gave me enough. I spent less than that on the food." Sister Draper didn't know what to do with it.

I stayed at the Parkins' while their parents went out of town. I say "stayed" because they didn't require any babysitting. I picked them up from school and they were really good. I only reminded them to clear their plates a couple of times. When I asked them to do jobs, they never complained but could be relied on to do them! No way! We watched movies and played basketball and even went to see the award-winning Christmas lights at the house that is synchronized with the radio. I loved to play their grand piano and to use their cocoamotion (I've got to get one of those some day). I did not like their cats. In fact, it was a constant cat battle. Susan told me that the cats liked to snuggle with her while she was sleeping, so not to be scared. I wasn't scared, I was disgusted because cats get fur everywhere and make me sneeze and my eyes water and turn red, etc. . . So, I was glad to hear that the sheets were clean, but I was paranoid about the door being left open. Unfortunately, the cats only drink from the tub in the master bathroom, so I had to let them in a few times, but I'd try to lead them out without them getting on the bed and without me having to touch them. One time I pushed the cat out and promptly washed my hands. Blech. Another time I used a pole to get the cat out from under the bed. I'm evil, I know. I felt enough allergy effects just from sleeping there, so I think I had somewhat of a right. Poor cats. They would scratch at my door, and if I opened it and they saw me, they got to the point where they would run away. I let them out as often as possible. I didn't mind having them out of the house. The rest of it was lovely. I borrowed a book from the bedroom. Grandpa had told me it was great (Yearning For the Living God), so I read the whole thing while the Parkin parents were gone, and it was wonderful. I was especially interested because it was a German guy's life story. I wanted to be closer to the Spirit afterwards. Why don't I get those same kind of promptings? I just need to work on recognizing, I think. Ben Parkin went into work with me so that Wil and I could finish the FHLash. I had been peer pressuring Wil to finish it, because it was the 8th of December and the December newsletter had not been published. That bugs me like no other, and he knows it. We got it out and worked on the shelving task profile. I figured out a way to make it more understandable, but apparently the missionaries still didn't get it when I split their book times into one paragraph, so Sister Williams made some chart to tell them. Whatever.

I was asked to play the piano at the Christmas devotional at the COB. The first day, I played and left to go to lunch with Tanya before she left to China. I was sad that I wasn't going, and I wondered if I would be going with her if I hadn't been dating Scott a few months ago when he suggested I go after Christmas and then the prices went up too high. Tanya's so great. She is there now and I hope all goes well. I've helped her a few times by calling her mom and by sending her articles and transferring them into Word files so she can open them there to finish her papers! Procrastinating on writing papers until you get to China where you're supposed to be touring is crazy, but I did what I could to help. Her professors finally just said they'd give her an incomplete grade and she could turn in the papers when she got back. Lucky. Back to the lunch after playing at the Christmas devotional: we went to some Mexican restaurant. I always disliked Mexican restaurants, because you'll get some tiny little quesadilla and it'll cost you a few bucks. I didn't have much time, but Tanya gave me her $15 off at Express card. Jenny and Joanna came. Joanna is engaged, so she told the story. They went to dinner and the waiter brought the ring out in some strawberries. That seems weird to me, like the waiter proposed, not the fiancee. Oh well. It always is weird for me to be with Tanya's other friends. I don't know why. It's not embarrassing, it's just more like I realize that Tanya and I are a different kind of friends. We can not talk for several weeks and still be amazing friends. We accept each other's weird qualities. We both can be antisocial and we both love feminist things. Anyway, the second day I played at the Christmas devotional, I stayed to eat the food. There were two guys ahead of me in line. I wondered if they were married, which is funny, because I didn't really check out either of them. One started talking about his wife, so he was immediately exed. The other saw my hand go up to push my cowlick down and my hair behind my ear (I do that a lot. My cowlick does not like to stay down.) and I totally caught him checking out my ring finger. Then he started talking to me, ended up eating lunch with me, and asked for my number. He works at the vault. I have never been very interested in redheads, but our conversation was interesting, so I agreed to go out. The message he left on my phone about taking me to lunch was so hilarious. He said, "I'm the one who ate eclairs with you on the 26th floor of the Church Office Building. I was praying, and I felt like we should start a band. Okay, maybe not really." He took me to lunch yesterday at the COB. I'd never eaten there. It was great. He said that he could never eat when he was nervous, like at prom, so he was nice enough to try to pick at his burrito and look away enough that I didn't feel too self conscious while I was eating. He walked me back to the Library and said, "Well, how about a second go?" I said okay, although I wondered later why, because I hadn't really felt any sparks of interest, just positive conversation. Oh well.

All these different opportunities have been coming up. Eric called me about teaching English in Thailand. I found the perfect master's program in Germany (at the University of Leipzig, which I heard had a good lit program--it combines a lot of my interests-Literature, Latin, linguistics, literary theory, writing, AND they've already moved over to match the American degrees). I'd have to really work on my German literature terminology. I was thinking I should just move there, get a job at a bakery, and then start my masters after taking a few bachelors English classes. Then I could get my love for German satisfied! Lastly, Mike told me about a publishing editor job in Beijing which would pay a ton. The minimum is $4,000/month, while the max is ten thou. Wowee. It's an eighteen-month commitment, so I'd be done in September of 2008. I'd be loaded for grad school. But dating opportunities in Beijing? That would just be so cool, and I wouldn't have to know Chinese. Also, it's for the Beijing Olympics Committee. Man! What to do? Scott asked me why I feel like I have to leave the country. I just do. I think that since he got to travel when he was young, he doesn't have that yearning that I do. I don't just want to see places. I want to have lived there! Wil wrote me all this advice that was just brilliant and inspired. I sent it to Tanya and she loved it.

I had Dad drop me off at the church one night for a young single adult activity. I felt stupid because I don't like going places without someone, especially things like that. Erin, one of the stake sports refs, was there. We went sledding up at Mt. Dell golf resort-the best sledding place ever, I now know. It goes on for so long, and there are hills after hills. I borrowed a sled that I found sitting under a tree and discovered that it was awesome. It could fit four people and it hauled down the hill farther than any other! When I finally had hiked all the way back, I discovered from the Brinton boys that it was Craig Romrell's. He had sprayed the bottom and asked how it did. He was really nice. After that, it was Craig, the Brintons and I going down and coming up, over and over. We didn't notice how cold it was, even with ice on our faces each time the sled finally slowed down. We were warm from the hiking back up and the fun time we were having. Being that tight in a sled with three other people makes you close friends pretty fast. At each bump, we would groan together and complain about our tailbones and backs and then try to see which bump had been so hard on the way up. I ended up telling Erin and the guy who gave us a ride that I was going to stay longer and get a ride. I decided on one trek up the hill that a Gatorade sounded good. I mentioned it. When we finally left, Craig took me home and got me a Gatorade at Dan's. Mmm. When they say it quenches your thirst, they're not kidding, although I didn't like strawberry as much as Craig said I would. He took my number but has not yet called. I can't wait to go sledding again.

I have talked to no less than exactly five people about snowshoeing in the last week. Weird, huh. I want to go, we'll see who gets around to it first. I can't do much because I don't have the snow shoes. Sica and I talked about going skiing. It's free after 3 at Alta. Amy said she could go. I made some calls around the ward to see if I could borrow some skis, but had no luck. So, I rented. We got up there late, then renting took forever. Then Amy discovered she had the wrong skis, so she had to rent too. Then we went down the hill with the tow rope three times. When we went to get on the real ski lift hill, I got onto the chair fine but my pole flipped out and fell. It was too late for me to get it, so Amy reassured me that one of the lift guys would grab it. Indeed, the lift stopped a minute later. It took me forever to get all the way down the mountain, because I hesitated to go fast. I knew that I had to reinforce what I had learned, so I want to go tomorrow. The pole was not at the bottom. It had not been turned in at the shop. At first I thought the nice guys in the shop were going to let me get away with it, but I had to pay $8 which will be refunded if it's found. Where could it have gone? We looked under the lift. I would have liked to ski longer, but it closed at 4:30. We didn't get out until 3:45. Also, my muscles were sore from being so tense. I had to keep reminding myself to relax, especially not to try to stand up straight, but to let my knees lean into my boots. I hope I will be able to go again. It was so awesome. Mom was right. If I get into winter sports, I won't hate winter so much. I just can't stand the thought of how expensive it is! I asked the guy in the shop about cheap skis. He showed me the cheapest: 350. He held up a pair and said, "These are women skis." I said, "is that why they have pink ribbons on them?" He was so laidback I thought it was funny. He asked me about my job because I asked him if he got to ski a lot and he asked if I wanted a job. Then he asked if my job paid me enough to get some skis. I said no and that I guess it would take me 80 rentals to catch up with the price of the good skis. He said the D.I. wouldn't be good because I needed shaped skis. (Grandpa later said I could use Grandma's skis, but they are straight.)

Grandpa, Mom, and I went to Sica's concert choir Christmas concert. It was awesome. The orchestra and the jazz band also played, they were awesome. My favorite was this crazy version of The Twelve Days of Christmas, where the violinists/violists (not sure which) would screech their bows and hit them on the end of their violins, etc. The audience got to sing the Alleluiah chorus of Handel's Messiah. That was another highlight. Grandpa sang loud and I cheered for him when he started the clapping for Vicki Belnap, a long-time music teacher. He said, "I just thought she deserved it when she was coming out onto the stage."

Several of our young trainees are sitting around at night instead of working. They watch movies on the internet, check their email, and play games. I'm not sure how to motivate them. They've been told, but only generally so far. I guess I will have to talk to them individually. I was frustrated because I had kept pushing one of them to finish training and she kept putting off tests I would schedule for her, saying she wasn't ready. When I would personally quiz her, she was ready, so I would just pass her off. We set a finishing goal for before she left on a Christmas vacation. She emailed me and said, "Is it okay if I finish when I get back? I've just been so busy." Yeah, busy talking on the phone when she's supposed to be working!!!!!!! I'm not sure what kind of talk will be effective with her. A strict, this-is-your-job-on-the-line talk, or a remember-that-it-is-the-Lord's-work talk, or what? What motivates young workers? Maybe I should talk about her being the example on if we will hire young people in the future. Hmm.

Our new zone leader is wonderful. He is kind, humble, and willing. I am okay with taking feedback from him, because he always has so much patience and love in his eyes. From the drama with the old zone leader, I'm sure he has heard things about me that may or may not be completely true, but he does all he can. He gave me a book called Anatomy of Peace, which is by the same institute that wrote Leadership and Self-Deception, which I loved. It's about conflict resolution, which tells you that he knows Sister Randall and I clash sometimes. Sometimes I feel so attacked because I really have not done anything and she'll get mad. We're doing a lot better and we're on the same page. As long as I always let her know what's up and she lets me know how training is going, we're both happy to work together. Elder Draper wants it to go well and asked Wil if Sister Randall could give the tests. Although that is not a possibility because it doesn't follow the model of employees providing the knowledge backup to the missionaries, he was fine and asked that Wil talk to me about being kinder during testing. Wil told me to talk to Elder Draper. He said that I was so much smarter than everyone else that I just needed to slow down and look people in their eyes and smile and compliment right answers. It was hard for me to take, but coming from Elder Draper, anything is possible. He told Wil yesterday that he couldn't believe that it had been bad before because everyone was working together and happy now. He really sets a good example for me. He talked about putting down our arms and letting people heal, because they will stop fighting if we do, just like in the Book of Mormon. The meeting he said that in gave me a lot to think about. It was three hours long, and Tom and Sherri also said some things that I knew were directed at me, like not speaking too fast. Sometimes I feel like everyone thinks I'm the only one with problems. I'm constantly thinking about them and working on them. That's all I can do, right? They weren't happy that I suggested that a real leader should be willing to provide supervision during all open hours, even if it meant working a late night every week or more. I told Wil later that they were willing to have the title and responsibilities that come with being a leader but they weren't willing to be leaders. I think they also both hesitate to make decisions or assign things to people. Sherri especially. I love her insight about people matters, but she turns to me to do the tiniest things, like tell a patron no, or to get the people out of the classroom before us. Hmmm. I do wish I could care more about people the way she does, though. Scott said, "After everything, what matters besides personal relationships?" I had no response for that, and I realized it's very true. How sad is that? Something that matters so much is something I don't care much to work on, at least not in the way that most people do. It just seems so fake to me, coming from most people. I can work with someone every day and respect them and rarely look at them and give them assignments and love them, but I don't feel like I have to stop and talk about non-work subjects or to tell them that I love them. Just working together and accomplishing things is love to me. I like to get things done. I like to be working. I guess there are other things that matter besides personal relationship, but they depend on people skills. How are you supposed to perfect yourself using the Atonement if you don't care for people? I look at Grandpa and think, "He used to be so grumpy with people. He is a hard, hard worker. But now he loves people and he still works." I think we are a lot alike and that I can learn those lessons a bit earlier because he already did. I sure love Grandpa, and I show that by working for him. Whenever I can, I go up there to see what I can do for him. I love doing whatever he needs, even if he doesn't say that he needs it, like unloading the dishwasher. I also love to help him out by drinking his Kern's drinks. Those things are amazing! Some day when I'm loaded, I'll have a new pair of socks once a week and an endless supply of Kern's. Lovely.

I made the fun activity for the employee meeting today. I called it "Access to Access," like "Apples to Apples." There were adjectives and then there were items that have to do with our unit, like Salt Lake City Birth Records, and the Machine Error Log, and our names. I think everyone liked it. After work, I took a three-hour nap filled with psycho dreams about attending dinners for Wil to withstand people who were thought to be allies but who were really leading him astray and breaking mini bear's necks because they were delicacies and running into the old zone leader in an elevator filled with unique flowers and him pretending that he didn't know I was going when I had sent the appointment and had seen that he had clicked "Accept." So weird! I woke up and went to the gym. I had a pass this whole year, but it was sitting at the gym because I never picked it up after they took the picture in March. So, I went, and while the guy was making a new one, I worked out. That was nice, especially after having sore skiing muscles. When I picked up the pass on the way out, I saw that it expired on the 26th. Three more days that I can use the thing (not Sunday, and not Christmas). So much for that. I feel quite bad. What a great present that I wasted. Today at work was "Bring a Holiday Treat" day, and I think I ate twenty pounds of chocolate. All these people brought me chocolates in my office, including Elder Wilson and Lina, whom I just love. Marva got transferred to my team. She is going to be wonderful. She says, "Oh my heck!" all the time, and she calls people things like "Sister" and "Lovey." She can work with Tom on how to do projects and then do the training docs on them. She already started and asks the missionaries for their input. Perfect! I really want this new training packet to be the comprehensive, amazingly-informational packet of all time!

Well, Christmas is almost here. What am I doing with my life? I sure have enjoyed it recently, but it seems like so much of it is the same. I want something to change, but what? I have been constantly cleaning out my room and throwing out more and more stuff. I gave Wil some of my stuff to give to his kids. I threw away tons of papers. I'm considering an iPod merely to get rid of my stereo and CDs, not because I like iPods. I'm going to type up my journals. I just look around some days and think, "Why do I have all this stuff? When was the last time I even used whatever's in that box up there?" I gave away some books and wonder if I should even have any books when there are perfectly good, free library books. Hmm. Which, by the way, brings up several more subjects: I had a 16-dollar fine last week because Sica checked out movies and a CD on my card and didn't turn them in on time. Wil and I have thought of several brilliant ideas for a bookstore we want to have some day. I got a new BOM, Pearl of Great Price, and D&C book from my friend, President Hinckley. We're tight. He even signed the card that came with it electronically. :) It really is a nice book with lovely red leather. And, lastly, I love, love, love to read! Public transportation is great because I am accomplishing two things: I'm going somewhere, and I'm reading! Yay! Driving is kind of a waste reading-wise and money-wise, although faster. I'm reading some Kafka right now. Fascinating. I want to read some in German.

James, Amy, and Paul are in town. I am so glad. They are all just fabulous fun. James is more aware of the world. He crawls and smiles a lot. I hope Jeff has a nice Christmas in the MTC. His letters are so entertaining with his slang and everything. I can tell he is really growing spiritually.


I went to the Salt Lake Theological Seminary with my institute class. That was really interesting. They stood up and stomped their feet to sing Christmas songs. We had a nice time discussing what Christmas is to us. We also discussed funny Mormon habits and theological education options, as well as the student's motivations for studying there. I looked at their class schedules. They have a class called "Helping Mormons Accept the Grace of God." I laughed a bit at that, but not because I don't think Mormons don't accept the grace of God at all times. It was funny to me because we all have that problem and are continuously working on it. I was reading my Gideon New Testament on TRAX in November, and this guy got really excited. He tapped me on the shoulder and we tried to converse for a while. He was deaf. So, we started writing back and forth. He asked me if I was Christian. I said yes. He asked me when I was saved. I told him it was an ongoing process. He finally realized I was Mormon and kept saying that he saw the Bible and thought . . . but he'd leave off there. And thought what? Do people really think that Mormon's don't read the Bible? I have been working on the New Testament, hand-in-hand with Jesus the Christ this year and I really enjoy it. Anyway, he kept saying that as long as I trusted Jesus, I was saved. I told him we had to keep working. He pointed me to a scripture about how fools should not speak, it is by grace alone that we are saved. I think it was in Ephesians 2. I felt stupid and flustered because I couldn't think of a scripture. I found one as soon as I got off the train, and my dad and Scott pointed out that I could have said, "Faith without works is dead." However, I think we had a good conversation anyway and I learned that I need to work on my knowledge too, not just my faith.

We are dressing down at work this month. Since there are so few patrons, we do a lot of projects. I had been working on taping shelves with Tom (he took the part I didn't like, and I took the part he didn't like), but he got upset about something last week, saying that I wasn't accommodating when I helped him as soon as it was possible, which is accommodating in my book. So then I didn't know what to do because he said it would take some time for him to be able to work with me. I have done more of his assigned section, but that is pointless. I could end up doing both of ours. Today I started doing my own sections and only got three done. I love shifting and stuff with Tom because he is fast. Shelf taping is slow, dirty, and very physical work. I have to push the shelves down with my foot while I pull the tape off and put all of my weight into it. As soon as the tape lets go, I go flying off the stool. It makes my arms hurt, but I love the taping and scraping parts. I have figured out the exact angle I need to scrape the old, sandy tape remains off the shelf without scratching it. And, I like getting the new tape exactly straight. Funny, huh? I feel bad on days when I dress down but I don't do much physical work, but if I don't get the tests done for the trainees, people get upset. Also, the schedule can't wait. We just made a new way for people to send in schedule change requests! Yay! It will be so much better! I had a generic email created, and Kristin, Wil, Teri, and I are connected to it by proxy. Employees send a reminder note with just the information and they and we can see when Wil has approved the change. Then it puts it right on the calendar! That way when Kristin makes the schedule, she can see the changes, and when Teri does the payroll, she can too. Yippy hooray! People are weird about their schedules. They're dying to get next year's holiday schedule. Really. Who cares? Why not just see it when it comes and work it? I guess I don't plan far enough ahead. They really didn't want the day after Thanksgiving. I took it. I probably won't be here, and I'll probably work every holiday until then anyway because you can pick your own day off in the next thirty days!

Well, sleep for me.

Cruisin'

As a comprehensive trip entry could go on for quite some time, I will name some highlights of each day:

Friday, 8 June 2007: I hung out with Scott and Tanya, my best friends.

Saturday, 9 June 2007: We woke up early, packed, and drove until Primm, Nevada. There we took a nap, went swimming, and got night ride passes. We enjoyed shooting targets on the log flume, dropping hundreds of feet in the air, and plugging our noses and covering our eyes and mouths in the casino (okay, this last one might have just been me). The jerky Desperado roller coaster made Mom sick first thing, so she went back to the room while we made countless more visits to the rides. The wimpiest ride I have ever been on was called “The Vault,” and we watched an animated roller coaster while sitting in moving seats. The worst ride was the virtual roller coaster. Sica and I almost pushed the emergency stop button. After Mom's stomach calmed down, we had orange chicken and went to see Bonnie and Clyde's car.

Sunday, 10 June 2007: Because of the previous night’s lack of luck in finding a grocery store (which made me a bit ornery that late at night), I ate chocolate for breakfast (which made me cheery that early in the morning). We drove to Barstow for church only to realize we were still on our time and an hour early. We held our own Sunday School on the lawn (about the Second Coming). Sacrament meeting consisted of about twenty other people in the congregation, all of whom sat way behind us, though we were in the fourth row. A (hypocritical?) trip to KFC brought us to a crazy lady with a crazy hat who told us she was the first lady of Barstow about ten times and convinced Dad to buy her lunch. She and a nice couple received contact cards. Somewhere in the middle of traveling, I became the official navigator (I almost took us to the Powerline concert instead). Before arriving at the Vagabond Inn, we joked that it was a tramp house, but we found it to be quite charming, especially because of the numerous frames on the walls that boasted the exact same painting. We drove to the Los Angeles temple and walked around.

Monday, 11 June 2007: The Aquarium of the Pacific boasts a lot of cool things, including touch pools, baby seahorses, and shark eggs, but the most engaging thing was the machine that played different sea animals’ sounds, including the dolphin and the humpback whale. After listening to the noise for a few seconds and watching a spectogram spread across the screen, we were able to mimic the sound and see how close we could get. When Sica started running down the stairs to the entrance of the aquarium, I knew Amy, Paul, and James were near. They came in and Sica whisked James away to the land of Aunty fun. Unfortunately, James in the land of Aunty fun made the one attendant of Grandmother land rather dim for a few moments. The arrival of the Bankhead family made us rather forget about the exciting things to look at; instead, we watched James’s reaction to everything, including his habit of suddenly pointing at things (birds especially, accompanied by “BUH!”) Mike’s girlfriend’s family met us at the aquarium and took us to lunch at the California Pizza Kitchen. We boarded the great beast (which did not have an obstruction in its blowhole, sorry George), found our rooms, and explored the ship. Having never been on a cruise ship before, I marveled that such a thing could float and that people wanted to be waited on hand and foot (that is so one of my mother’s sayings) for such a long time. At dinner, the strawberry bisque was the favorite and was re-ordered many times. The aunts coincided in the choice to take care of James for the evening, which made us quite popular during dinner, as the waiters loved him, especially a nice gal from the Philippines named Mary. One waiter told me not to give any to James since it had alcohol in it. I assumed he was talking about the bisque and every table had a good laugh about the alcohol we had consumed on accident. Then we asked another waiter who said it didn’t have alcohol, so maybe the first waiter meant my chocolate cake or something. We decided James would learn to walk during the trip so he could get his sea legs.

Tuesday, 12 June 2007: In the explorations of the ship, Sica and I discovered a jewelry shop and looked around the whole store. When we came back to look at the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen, one of the employees let me try it on. Wow. The ring was great to behold and the employee was great to talk to. His name is Farhan, and he is from India. The other employee is named Tony, and he is from Croatia. Both were to be visited many times. I wanted to go surfing, but no one would go. Donny said that no one pays to surf, you just get a friend’s board and go. “When will I be at the beach again?” I asked. I ended up walking around the USS Midway for hours. There were sixty stops with the headphone recordings, and we were sick of it by the twenty-fourth. Fortunately, things got more interesting up top, and there were benches to rest on. The most interesting things I learned: there are more people trained to be brain surgeons than Landing Safety Officers in the world, people on the ship were more stressed when landing at night than when under hostile fire, people in the code room began dreaming in morse code and could tell who had written which messages. I also saw the maps and previously-top secret operations of Desert Storm. There was a place to try your hand at flying, but it looked exactly like the virtual ride in Primm, and I wasn’t even steering then. Rick, Scott, Lena, and Donny went for it. Lena screamed enough to be heard outside (getting laughs from the crowd), and Scott yelled at Rick a lot. I went running in the gym, sat in the lukewarm tub for a few minutes, played Settlers next to all the evening desserts, and ate sushi that Uncle Mike bought. Amy, Lena, and Donny met Farhan. Donny talked about tungsten jewelry with him.

Wednesday, 13 June 2007: Everyone began to yell at Heidi, Sica, and I for not letting room service into our room. The guy assigned to our room had noticing us avoiding him and did not look happy. The Monarch of the Seas arrived at Catalina Island. Grandpa rented out the first golf cart rental place’s entire stock, making me laugh at a koochy girl in a short pink skirt whose boyfriend couldn’t get her a golf cart and instead got them bikes. We raced around for a while, James staring with glazed-over eyes until he fell asleep. The island is beautiful. Maybe some day I will get a summer home there. We learned that only 800 cars are allowed on the island and the waiting list for a car is 15 years. Dad bought us snacks at the local store, and we watched a man barfing into a garbage can on the way to the beach. Apparently the harbor there is the fourth dirtiest in the world. Swimming is not allowed. We discovered that it would have been a lot cheaper for us to get off on the island and arrange our own kayaking, but canceling the ship-arranged kayaking was just as expensive. Although I enjoyed the kayaking very much, let me just say that river kayaking is so much better. On the ocean, it’s hard to flip and there aren’t any rapids. Sica let me be in the back, and we had fun popping the ball things that grow at the top of kelp to make it float. Mom got us to go to dinner early so that we could get a table for our whole family. During dinner, I clanged my glass and announced that I would be going to the University of Leipzig to earn my Master’s degree. Everyone seemed excited for me and Grandpa said he would miss me. I will really miss him too. It makes it hard to go, not knowing if he will still be around when I get back. Amy gave me a long massage and told me that my muscles were messed up and I needed help, nothing new. We tried to start letting room service in, but we were always napping or something during the cleaning times. Amy and I listened to a comedian who was pretty funny and not too dirty. Then we went to watch Settler’s and eat some of Uncle Mike’s nightly sushi.

Thursday, 14 June 2007: The ship arrived in Ensenada, Mexico. Although we all went separately, we ended up following Donny el Diablo around as he interpreted locals’ views on good shopping. Ty was really good at bargaining. I wondered if one of the hammocks would be good for sleeping. I finally found some silver earrings for when I need to be dressier, but the man had them priced way too high at 18.99. I brought some similar but white ones to him that a lady had priced at 7, and he gave in and sold them to me for 7, although he tried to get me at 7.99. I went to the rock climbing wall and met a nice belayer guy from Manchester. I told him I wanted to visit my namesake there soon. Real rock is a lot more fun and challenging to climb on, especially since you can make up your own grips, you don’t have to go by colors. I did a tough problem and it felt so good even though my shoulder was sore from kayaking! Aunt Mary convinced Amy and I to sign up for the rock climbing competition. One other lady competed, and she had never climbed before in her life. She kept saying that we were all way young, but she didn’t seem to realize that Mary wasn’t our sister. The Glauser girls took first, second, and third. Amy beat me by .28 seconds. Mary was only a second behind me. Room service finally cleaned up our room. I went into the jewelry shop and chatted with Farhan and Tony several times. Farhan asked for my email address and wanted to know what I would be doing around 1 AM. I told him, “Sleeping,” and apologized that I just could not stay up that late. Later when we kept walking past the store, Farhan would see me and wink. I felt so stupid, but I needed a picture, so Sica and I went back again and took a picture with Farhan and Tony. Yikes! My favorite shirt is now getting pushed back because of that strategically-placed, blue flower! Grandpa and I found some good seats in the theater to watch a ballroom dancing team from Idaho perform. They were awesome, even though the ship started rocking like mad and everyone was getting woozy. Can you even imagine if we had been drinking like others? Heidi barfed in the bathroom. Good thing we got Febreze after the Primm casinos.

Friday, 15 June 2007: After breakfast we gave Mary a contact card and got off the ship. The best thing about the cruise: yummy food, all the time. The worst thing about the cruise: not being able to find anyone since cell phones didn’t work. We drove to a Starbucks to use the internet to make hotel reservations. Paul had to do some business, so we took Amy to her Sheraton in downtown LA after visiting Manhattan Beach. When we went to rinse off our feet, a biker turned a sharp corner really fast and tried to run me over. My only reaction went like this: "MER!" I ended up getting rammed against a rail. Then he tried to get Sica. He swore a few times and asked if I was okay as I walked away, totally not knowing how to react. Then we took Amy to the Sheraton. Holy cow it was nice. I would love to decorate like that some day. They had black wooden shelves, beige curtains and floors, and red in random spots, such as However, they had no free wi-fi! We went to another Vagabond Inn which had some of the in the rugs and chairs.same paintings and enormous refrigerators for a hotel. When we met up at the Dodgers vs. Angels game, I had to sit back a row as I had originally planned to go home with Grandpa. No one scored until the sixth inning, but the Dodgers took it after Saito came in to pitch. Go Dodgers! We had Dodgers dogs and James made it through the entire game.

Saturday, 16 June 2007: I realized I left my phone charger on the ship. Heidi tried to get her seashell from kayaking to stop stinking. The thing inside died, it's not hard to tell. On the way to Baker, the air conditioner died. Whewee. A silver bullet flying through the Mojave desert, enjoying the 105-degree weather. Luckily we had a lot to entertain us. We watched movies, I read A Train to Potevka and listened to some Ben Folds and Rachmaninov and Better Than Ezra, and then the three girls napped first leaning to one side, then to the other. When we arrived at Chili’s in St. George and peeled our sweaty backs and legs off the seats of the Sequoia, we mentioned water four or five times before we had even settled into our seats. I think I had four or five glasses of liquid. The My Fair Lady show at Tuacahn was awesome. What a cool place to have a stage! The red rocks are beautiful, and they can use the scenery behind them as a stage. During the horse race (when Eliza Doolittle yells, “Come on Dover, move your bloomin’ @*$!”), a rider fell off and the play had to be suspended for a bit until the ambulance could take her away with a broken leg. The acting was great, and the singing echoed off the cliffs. There are so many good songs in that play. I was disappointed by the ending though. She goes to him and he’s still a jerk. Oh well. By the time we were on the freeway, the temperature was fifty-four degrees cooler than it had been, what a relief. We watched Akeelah and the Bee, parts of which had recorded in slow mo or without sound. What a great show. Spelling bees rock. After seeing all of these spelling movies, I wonder why no one ever encouraged me to take it more seriously. If I got as far as I did without studying etymology or without even studying the words every day or very often, how far could I have gone? Oh well.

Sunday, 16 June 2007: We arrived home at 4 AM and went stee-raight to bed.

Uncle Al Interview (Missionaries and Hitler)

Keepapitchinin, a fabulous Mormon history blog, has kindly agreed to post these videos of an interview I did of my Uncle Al at her site so they would get some more viewers. As an introduction:

My great uncle, John Alvon Glauser, was born in 1913. He is the oldest of the seven children of John and Lena Glauser, both Swiss immigrants who met and married in Logan, Utah. Lena's maiden name was von Niederhausern, resulting in the "von" in "Alvon" (as a fun side story, Lena gave my Grandpa the letter N without a period or anything for his middle name since "Niederhausern" was so long--when people asked what it stood for, he always said "nothing" with a serious face). Uncle Al served a mission in Switzerland and Germany from 1934 to 1937. Because his stories of his mission have fascinated me for years, I felt like someone needed to record the story. As a result, last time I was in Salt Lake, I drove up to his house and recorded this video (the person asking questions and responding now and then is yours truly).

Al's love for his mission led him to meet up with many old mission companions for years in a group they called "The Forty-Niners" (after the address of their mission home). After his mission, Uncle Al found and married the lovely pianist and organist Beverly Brown, who had thought he would never call her again after their first date. They had two daughters, Shirley and Mitzi. With his brother, Reed, my grandpa, he continued the business his dad had started, Egg Products. After retirement, he was invited into the Dirty Shirts Club (see the July 12, 2006 issue of the Salt Lake Tribune--at that time, the average age was 84.8 in this club that golfs and bowls together on Wednesdays). In the last several years, Al has volunteered at LDS Hospital, where he drives cancer patients to their appointments in a golf cart. Having turned 96 on September 19th, he has now outlived all six of his younger siblings and keeps people around him laughing with the jokes he memorizes.

And now the videos:

Part 1 (Passion Play)


Part 2 (Hitler and Mussolini)


As I talked to Al when I last visited him, I asked him about his life in general and heard a lot of good stories. For example, he told me how he'd met Beverly at Pine Crest Inn at a Friday night dance. She'd been on a date with Reed Shepherd. He called her the next day, and after their date, she told her mother he'd never call again. At the time, she was 22 years old and teaching elementary school. She had graduated from the University of Utah and the Alumni president. She had already played the organ for years and continued the calling, even helping to pick out the pipe organ in his current ward. (As a side story, I remember at her funeral, it was said that she never owned a pair of jeans and that she would slip bits of Beatles and other music into prelude music to see if the bishopric noticed. If they did, she'd wink at them.)

“I feel guilty. I could have been nicer. I learned to be more compassionate and caring when she was sick and when she passed away. My daughters used to tell me that. They said, ‘Oh Daddy, don’t say that, then you say you feel guilty.’ Everybody isn’t the same. All couples have differences. You’ve got to let the wife do what she wants to do and the husband has to have his way too.” “I like people. I’ve learned to like people you know. Just recently, after Gloria passed away, and Reed passed away. I was pretty lonely for quite a few days, but time heals all. And I just sort of thought of every one of my siblings. And I learned from all of them. I learned from Ruby, Floyd, Lucille, and Ruby . . . I learned from all of them. We had fun. We had good times . . . When Ruby passed away, they recruited me [to play cards]. Then Reed filled in, then Mike Kendall.”

He also included that all of his sisters made it into their 80s and he had been at his sibling Floyd's and Lucille's homes when they passed away. Apparently his sister Ruby knew she was going to go soon, because after years of doing certain things for her husband Collins (the one Al had baptized), she showed him how to do some household duties—she had a premonition she was gonna go and just didn’t wake up the next morning. Al continued a good friendship with Collins and quoted him as saying, “The best thing that ever happened to me was when I married Ruby, married into the Glauser family.”

Al also told me that Hitler had the people stop smoking and fast for a day to contribute to the country’s cause, something I had never heard before. Al's descendants are spread out in California, Florida, and the Midwest U.S.