The Sublime Roundabout

I love people. I love to watch people. I love to be amongst people. I love to hear people and smell people and taste people and feel people. People have an aura that is palpable for me - some are gray and some are bright vivid and colorful. One of the things I like most in life is to converse. The honest and open sharing of ideas has infinite appeal for me, and I love it when my ideas are challenged by someone (anyone) who is serious and well-intentioned. But I think that the level of our conversations has diminished. Text messaging is not conversing. Email has not yet risen to the level of a well-crafted letter. And instant messaging is a little better, because it's, well, instant. But it's not the same as a warm, human interaction that can only take place when there's a real human conversing face to face. Letter writing used to be OK because it was slow. It was physical. It was a real thing - you could imagine your loved one's hand as it moved across the page. The ar

So, there I was, minding my own business, getting ready for bed Saturday evening when the phone rang. Unsuspectingly, I answered it. Could I bring my wife to an interview with the Stake President tomorrow (last Sunday)? Um, she's in a meeting until Church starts, I say. No, this is important. Pull her out of the meeting. OK. No sleep Saturday night. Sunday morning - a walking ball of nerves. Trying to be extra nice to everyone to make up for all of those times I snapped and yelled and poked and cajoled, hoping that it would be enough. It wasn't. Still nervous. Get to church. Trying to fend off questions from my kids about why I have to meet with the Stake President. I don't know. I honestly have no idea. Releases are usually handled by the High Council. Callings for the Elder's Quorum are also usually handled by a High Council member or a member of the Stake presidency. Not the man himself... Not good. Sitting in with the Stake President. Ah, those last few innocent mo

My parents have always been heroes of mine. Not heroes in the "really good person" sense, but REAL super heroes, like Superman and Wonderwoman . Or Green Lantern and She- ra . Or Mork and Mindy. Take your pick. Try to imagine my surprise and disillusionment when I discovered that my parents were people. Complete shock and amazement. They were people who are subject to all of the frailties of human existence , including sickness, depression, bad moods, cuts, scrapes, bruises, bad days, problems with others, mental derangement, rabies, bullets, and temptations. About the only thing my parents are truly invulnerable to, ironically, Krypton (and other noble gasses...:-) ). So my parents have had to slog through this mess just like I am. When I was fairly immature, I resented my parents for this. How dare they be fallible ? How could they even think of not being absolutely perfect in every way, not having all the answers, of being mean-spirited at times. It seemed unforgivable

So, I realize that not many people are ever going to read this. That's OK. It's an exercise in faith and obedience, rather than having an actual purpose. Besides, I find it especially cathartic. My young life was marked by moving. A lot. My father was (...thinking of the right way to put this...) somewhat of an entrepreneur. He was never satisfied with his current status and was always looking for something better. He did everything from milkman to real estate, plumbing to door-to-door salesman. He is a hard worker, which is something that I have learned from him and respect him a lot for. But we moved a lot. Before the time I was in fourth grade, we had moved about 11 times and I had attended 5 schools. I didn't know any better, but longed for some real friends. I still wonder what happened to some of the kids I knew when I was growing up. We finally ended up in Utah. I was so excited to be coming to Utah. At last, thought I, I wouldn't be the only Mormon kid in school