Happy Birthday Mrs. Landbeck!

It's a running joke that amuses me, anyway, calling Jennilyn "Mrs. Landbeck". When we were first married (like, in the first few weeks), one of her old roommates invited us to eat with her and her husband. He kept calling her, "Mrs. Z" (her married last name initial), and the charm of it stuck.

Anyway, it's

HER

BIRTHDAY

TODAY!

Thus my annual campaign to make today happy, celebratory, awesome, special, and poignant for her.

She is amazing. If you know her, you know that already. My goal and purpose is to make her appreciate how appreciated she is (without triggering the instinctive Christian resistance to anything that smacks of pride or arrogance).

Sweetheart, you are best thing in all of our lives. That's not pride, that's the truth.

I love you. Happy Birthday.

Christmas Songs!

I love Christmas songs. There is a station in Baltimore that switches their whole playlist over to Christmas songs after Thanksgiving. The worst part about the station is their commercial breaks are like 10 minutes long, but we just turn the sound down for that.

It has been rewarding and delightful how cheery and willing our children have been to listen to and sing along with Christmas songs. Somehow we've avoided any grumpiness about the cheesiness or commercialism of Christmas that seems to afflict kids sometimes as they grow into an awareness of the "real" world. Here are some of the songs that have been favorites this year.



I wish there was a real video for this, and not just a karaoke prompt. But it's still one I love to catch when it comes on.



I still remember the year that Max's middle school choir sang this. Nine boys awkwardly shifting from foot to foot trying to his the low notes, it was still awesome.



This was a song that Max's choir sang this year. *Superb*. Christmas, funny, *and* full of puns.



Everytime this comes on the radio, the kids sing along with fervor and delight.



We love Christmas carols, Christmas hymns, funny, serious, reverent ones. I was touched last night as we carolled from house to house by a Father my age who told me he had never had carollers come to his home before.

Merry Christmas!

Sing some songs!

Links for Emma

I would email these to her, but some of them are interesting enough to share.

A good article on great teachers.

What would happen if you combined every element in the periodic table?

I can't believe it's only 50. Do you recognize them all?

The Things I've Lost

Thanksgiving is past, and Christmas is coming. I feel a little melancholy today. While I adore the holidays and look forward to more family-time and yummy food, I remember things that are gone, or that are grown distant. I am mulling today on what I've lost in my lifetime.


Well, for the last year, the obvious one has been my job. But that's not really true anymore. I'm working every day now, including weekends, at three part-time jobs. Still looking for something full-time with benefits. Now I'm so busy, I can be a little choosier in what I apply for.

There is not much, by way of stuff, that I've lost over the years that I remember, or miss. The rocking chair that went missing (probably stolen) one move when we were in college. There was that pair of glasses I hadn't seen in a few months, then one day I knew right where to look. Found them.

Once, when he was young, I lost one of our sons at a picnic. I was watching him from a distance, maybe 30, 40 meters away, play on a playground in the center of a housing development. Then, I didn't see him anymore.

We were at a party, with lots of adults, and we all scattered, every which way looking for him. I felt very certain he would go in a certain direction, and drove around the development to the other side.

Found him walking between the back yards of houses, exploring. Unaware of the crazed fear he had inspired. Now he is at BYU, 2000 miles away, hopefully looking after himself, because I no longer can.

Once, when Sam was about seven, he gave a talk in church.

"My Dad’s name is John Landbeck. He is the father of my body. I look like him. My eyes are blue, like his are. My hair is blonde, like his was."

Now and then . . . I've lost some hair.





 The Spaces between my children and me have grown, but I earnestly hope that we are never lost to each other. As I consider their adult futures, I pray they will stay close, that they will communicate and seek each other's company.

I've never lost my faith. I have on occasion lost my patience, but I can find that again quickly.

I am delighted to say I have shed myself of several grudges over the years. Their loss is definitely an improvement. Would that pounds were as easy to lose and stay shed.

I have lost a few family members over the years, and still miss them. But I have gained many, and treasure them all.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Grateful for Obedience

"To obey is better than sacrifice." -- Samuel

Saul did everything the Lord asked him to do, except destroy the best of his enemy's spoils. Those he allowed his people to keep, so they could "sacrifice [them] unto the LORD".

Mrs. L pinched my arm softly during Stake Conference a few weeks ago and whispered that she always had a hard time with that story. She works *hard* at everything she does, including obeying tasks assigned her. She often produces things better than asked for, makes them wonderful instead of just nice.

I think the story of Saul is not one of being in trouble for trying too hard to make things better, though.

Saul's act to let his people sacrifice some of the spoils was a fundamental change to the command he was given. It altered the nature of the action. He gave into his people's urge for convenience at the cost of following the Prophet's instructions.

Obedience is better than efficiency. It's better than convenience. Doing an extra good job at something isn't disobedient. But it is when we assert to be "doing more" when what we are really doing is something different.

I am grateful that I married a woman who is determined to obey the commandments. That it is so important to her to obey the prophet. I know to someone who doesn't believe what we do, that can look like blind obedience. But do not discount the process we undertook to be certain of the command in the first place; I trust the scriptures, trust the prophet. To me, the uncertain rumblings about blind obedience look like equivocation, intellectual justifications for partial obedience.

I know that I am happy when I obey God.

I am kind of sad that November is ending. I'm looking for a good pattern or theme to blog about next month. Can I find 31 things to love about Christmas?

How about 31 birthdays to love?

Thankful for the Second Law of Thermodynamics

In a closed system, over time entropy increases.

It was in 11th grade Chemistry that I was taught about how energy is conserved and about how chaos only increases. Our teacher asked us to consider a snowball, thrown at a wall. The energy of the moving snowball changes direction when it hits the wall (sending little pieces of snowball in every direction, until gravity and air resistance bring them to a halt), perhaps melts some of the snow, but the energy never goes away.

Then he held up a jar 1/3 full of little white fuzzy balls, and poured a layer of little black fuzzy balls on top of the white ones, so they formed two strata. He asked for a volunteer to shake the jar, and then said to keep shaking until the distinct layers reformed.


Obviously, no matter how long you shake, they never reform. Once things have become disordered, they do not spontaneously reorder. Left along, things become more chaotic, less organized.

These two concepts have informed my life ever since, but especially the explanation of entropy.

I look back now and can see how hard I try to make things *better* rather than worse. It is meaningful to me that what we do ripples out in effect to the world, having consequences far beyond what we can see in the immediate term. Why would you risk doing something that increases the disorder, the chaos, the bitterness of the world? It is *so* hard to undo some things, impossible to undo them sometimes.

Time to go sort some laundry. See, it's a closed system; those socks aren't going to match themselves.

Grateful for Poetry

I had an English Teacher in college who encouraged us to be very deliberate about the metaphors that we embrace. Our metaphors are how we see life, how we manifest our most basic and instinctive actions.

Love is a battlefield. Or is it a red, red rose?

I knew at a young age that I would always love poetry. It was never stupid or sissy to me. The lyrical nature of language resonates in my heart, I adore the well-turned phrasing, the impressionist verse, the complex rhymes or rhythms of poetry. I love the meaning it can convey in just a few simple words.

I reject the notion that some things cannot be explained. That idea, that experience is necessary for understanding, is at odds with everything I believe about the human experience, about knowledge, truth. It might take a mighty exertion of intuition and empathy, and the concerted effort of imagination, but I truly believe we can understand each other.

And poetry, for me, is the best and most perfect medium for that understanding to occur. Often the language of poetry slips back into our conversations, we use the imagery from a poem by alluding to its construction.

Do not go gentle into that good night.
I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.

I have spoken often of my love for words and language. I think that poetry is the highest expression of language, in poetry. My favorite scriptures are poetic, lyrical and powerful in their instruction.

I have never thrown away a book of poetry, which is actually kind of silly, since nearly every poem in the world is out their on the internet somewhere. But I love just turning through the pages of a poetry anthology and finding new and old ones, over and over again.

the world is puddle-wonderful
All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe.

Do you take time to consider the metaphors of your life? How you see the world, your relationships, your future? I hope so. It's never too late to have a more positive vision.

"Look on my works and despair!"

To turn from the urge to selfishness and be more kind. To yearn for greater happiness and more complete peace.

To love.

Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.

Grateful for Cheer

One of my favorite people is an older gentleman who is in our congregation at church. He is matter-of-fact about his age and the remarkable feat it is to wake up each day.

"How are you doing today Harvey?"
"Oh, woke up on the right side of the grass."

"Good Morning Brother Powell, it's good to see you."
"Oh, I guess it's better to be seen than viewed."

"How are you feeling today?"
"Still feeling!"

It is a delight to be around cheerful people. I know, there is a difference between the obtusely happy people who are clearly in denial; life is hard, long, difficult, and often heartbreakingly tragic. But there is so much good in the world, so much to be happy about.

I am grateful for the sources of cheer around me. Grateful that my children tend to avoid mopeyness, join me in feeling sorry for the emos in the world.

Grateful for the holidays, and how happy they are! I love that Thanksgiving comes before Christmas, so we can spend time being thoughtful and thankful before we invest our energies in giving gifts.

Be happy today! Spread some cheer!

Thankful to Travel

On the road again!

I love to travel. I am grateful to have family and destinations within distance. I have lost track of the number of times I have driven from Utah to Maryland. or vice versa. Today, we are driving to Pittsburgh, a little jaunt of just 4 or 5 hours to see some of Jenni's family.

I am grateful that it's always been easy for me to drive. A bag of sunflower seeds and I can go for another 2 or 3 hours, maybe 4.

I am grateful for cars that work.

Roads that take us where we want to go.

I'm grateful that there are places and people we want to go to.

And for the people that are just too far away to drive and see in a day, I'm grateful that they have someplace to go, someone to see as well.

I miss you guys.

Thankful for Learning

When I got married, I wanted to be happy. Wanted my wife to be happy. Wanted happy kids. Over the ensuing decades (!) I've learned a few things about what works and what doesn't in pursuit of that happy state. Some things have been easier to remember and incorporate.

One was very clearly exercised this morning as we began the Thanksgiving cooking. One thing I have learned over the years is that I have gift for logistics. I can think about a planned activity on Thursday and know what things need to be done in the days, even the months, beforehand to ensure it comes about. I bought 3 dozen eggs 7 weeks ago so I would be able to boil them (the older an egg is, the more likely it is to peel cleanly-seriously, go look it up) yesterday in order to devil them today.

Anyway, we brine our turkey, and then give it a buttermilk rinse. It involves thawing the turkey for a week, then putting it in a huge pot with some salt and water Tuesday night, then emptying out the water and covering it with buttermilk. This morning, it was time to start cooking.

I emptied out the buttermilk, and could tell this turkey was going to be too big for the pan Jenni had asked me to use. We have a ridiculously small wall oven (I guess back in the 60s, no one cooked big things!? Someday, we will have the awesome huge oven that our hearts yearn for...), so she was worried that our larger baking dish wouldn't fit in the oven with the door closed. I tested the door, put the large dish in to make sure it would still close. It did.

I put the turkey in the baking dish and waited for Jenni to come in and review. She's better with the foil. When she saw how the turkey was sticking slightly over the edges of the pan, she wondered if the other pan (the one she had asked for, it was slightly oval) would be wide enough to avoid the overhanging meat (which of course raised the risk of dripping). I assured her it was not any wider.

I saw, with a clear, brilliant, precient surety, the look that crossed her face. She wanted to *see* that it wouldn't fit.

We've had that talk before, mostly with furniture. Sometimes, it's just easier to look at something in place, and then be certain that it wasn't going to really work there.

So I nodded, and said, "I don't mind washing a second dish," and moved the turkey into the oval pan. It hung out even more, and we agreed to move it back.

Sometimes, when you know you are right, you are certain of your correctness, it can be very hard to indulge the uncertainty of others. There is a reason that indignation is usually paired with the word "righteous".

But I have learned that there is rarely (if ever) any good that comes from insisting to loved ones. And I have learned over the years that I treasure peace and happiness far more than the conservation of effort (that comes from bullying loved ones into doing it my way so I don't have to wash another dish).

I am grateful for efficiency. But I am more grateful that I have learned how to be happy with loved ones.

Grateful for Fixing

When my youngest son Sam was four, we were at church one Sunday. He was playing with some paper, writing his name, drawing shapes. I took one piece and folded inticately into a large triangle. After I gave it to him, he declared it was a sailboat. After a while, Sam unfolded it, and got frustrated folding it back into the sailboat shape. He looked up at me very sadly, and handed me the paper. He whispered, "Ruined it."

It was heartbreaking, how much sorrow he invested into that whisper. I was struck at how the experience parallels our own lives. How we ruin things with our failures, our mistakes, our mortality, and are left mournful at the fallen state that results. Things break, moth/rust corrupt. They fall apart, and we mourn their loss, grumble at the cost of their replacement.

Growing up, my Dad fixed *everything*. I watched sometimes, and wish that I had paid stricter attention (so I could have soaked up more of his knowledge). But I learned enough; whenever I packed to go places, I took a screwdriver so I could fix stuff that broke.

On my mission, I repaired fans, bikes, doorknobs, something in every apartment.

As an adult, as a Dad, it's an ongoing process. A few weeks ago, the garbage disposal in our sink wouldn't work. When you flipped the switch, nothing. Having repaired them in the past, I knew there was a ground fault interrupt breaker on the motor, so I flipped it back. "HMMMMMMM" is the sound it made, it was clearly stuck. I called my Dad, and he told me about the hex nut on the bottom of most disposals you can use to force them to turn, or rotate them backwards to unstick them.

Problem solved.

We've had cabinets with too much space, and not enough shelf. Easy, we put in more shelves!

Some things can't be easily put back together (so we bid fond farewells to the $.35 plastic whistle that got crushed after it was left on the floor). I try to invite kids to watch what I am doing so they can learn the skill. Learn the *lesson*.

Most everything can be fixed. It is worth it to try. Worth it to educate yourself and see if you can repair it. Sometimes, we have to ask for help from pros. Sometimes, we have to get the pros to do the fixing, true, but there is usually something we can do to make it work. To control our environment.

So when Sam thought is paper was ruined, it struck me that there is a great lesson in how we see problems, how we see ourselves. No matter how "ruined" we might feel things become, they can always, always be put back together. As I folded the paper back together for Sam, I felt hope for us all.

Animals!

Driving through suburban Baltimore last night to pick up Suzanna from her harp lesson, I suddenly veered to the left, nearly driving off the road.

"A fox!" I cried out. "Look, Max! A fox!"

Max has driven with me before, he is not alarmed when I bring the car to a sudden halt to look at wildlife.

There is a small herd of deer that lives in a copse of woods in the middle of a cloverleaf ramp onto the interstate near us. Max is in charge of looking for them so I can pay attention to the road.

Our kids know to never approach or try to touch wild animals. That being said, they still love to chase squirrels around the yard. Or rabbits, when they are about (I think we had a clutch of babies living in one of our bushes in the spring, there sure were a bunch of little bunnies around).

One thing we MUST remember to pack whenever we spend the night at the beach are our headlamps. Looking for ghost crabs after sunset is a tradition.



I love the wonder of seeing animals in the wild. I am grateful my kids indulge my whims, and seem to enjoy the wonder of it all themselves.

Thankful for Music

"Without music, life would be a mistake."
Friedrich Nietzsche

Max's concert was a delight for me on so many levels. I was just glad to get this particular song on video finally.

I am grateful for all of the music in my life. Most of the songs I sing are religious in nature. I'm grateful that my family is willing to sing, and I am grateful for the talent they possess. Music has moved, taught, inspired me.

And in cases like this performance, amused me as well!

Perspectives in Gratitude

My Mother-in-law is serving a mission in St. Croix. She has been blogging about her experiences to help us stay up-to-date on her experiences, and wrote this morning about the discouraging news of having her purse stolen from inside their car. Credit cards, missionary papers, money, so many things missing. The best comment she wrote in her written report was speculating about the person or people who took her purse, particularly the ipod she had recently purchased.

"The thief will be expecting music and will find the Book of Mormon in Spanish, the Hymns and Himnos (Spanish Hymns) and the Children's songbook. I hope it does him some good."

Her purse was found later, with only the cash and ipod missing. Is that the silver lining? Or is that a mixed blessing (getting back most of her stuff, including the purse itself)?

Several years ago, I drove to Utah with my six kids (one recently potty trained) and a niece. I was the only driver. In two days. It was
AWESOME!

2200 miles. 34 miles of driving in 49 hours. Laborious, to say the least.


At about mile 2193, we were approaching the canyon where Interstate 80 comes down into Salt Lake Valley, I smelled the sweet, sickly hint of radiator fluid. I figured it was another car, because I had seen no steam coming from the hood of our van. But when I glanced at the temperature gauge, I saw the needle close to red.

I shifted to neutral, and turned off the engine. We were coasting. Somehow, we had overheated and I had detected no problems until this final horrible moment. Recalling tidbits I had heard about overheating engines, I opened the windows, and turned on the fan, setting the temp to high heat (I guess the air flowing through the engine draws some of the heat with it?).

We continued to coast. About ten miles to go. I thought it was all downhill from there. Ever coasted downhill in a van full of children at 80 miles an hour? STRESSFUL!

We made it to the valley. I coasted up the ramp to 33rd south, and then continued coasting downhill towards my in-law's house. We made it to their place at 4:45, and got in touch with an auto-shop who could see us immediately. The radiator lines that ran to the rear heater of the van had rusted through, but they were able to repair it before the close of business the next day.
Is it appropriate to be wildly grateful that of all the places for the radiator line to fail, it was ten miles away (an all downhill coast!) from the end of our 2200 mile drive? Is that just self-delusion?

Is life one long tragedy, or a constant delight? Are cheerful people just in denial of all the problems that beset them, that are about to befall? Are cynical people wrong to refuse to look for the bright side, the silver lining?

I side with the cheery ones. I instinctively move towards things that are joyful, towards happiness. Sometimes, that means I get disappointed, hoping for things that fall apart. Sometimes, my reach exceeds my grasp.

So be it. Being grateful is a decision. Its perspective informs and is informed by my faith, my certainty that there is a God, that the world is a good and necessary place and that there is happiness to be found in all circumstances. I am grateful for my ability to BE grateful.

I Am Grateful that My Wife Takes Pictures

Yes, if it holds still in our house, she will paint it.

But whether it is still or not, she will take a picture of it! Here are two things she painted, one she recovered, and then photographed all of them.


It should be obvious (ask my children, they are sometimes embarassed by the obviousness...) that I adore my wife. But I am terribly flattered that she wants pictures of us togther.


I can understand how shy some people are, or irritated by attention when someone wants to snap a picture. I respect that.

But I think it's kind of like dancing. Or singing. Even if you are no good at it, even if you think you aren't going to have fun doing it; I really believe it's better to go along and have fun doing it. Take pictures. Be photographed.

Thankful for Freedom

I am NOT an expert yet, I've only been working inside the prison for three days.

But every day, at the end of the shift, I walk out of my classroom (locking it behind me), through a door at the end of the hall (locking it behind me), and then out of my building (locking it behind me). I wait by an enormous, heavy door with a bulletproof window in it, until a guard throws a switch that opens it. I return my keys to the guard through another bulletproof window, and then wait by a second heavy door, which only the guard can open (this type of entrance/exit is called a sally port; it prevents anyone from leaving the prison without direct supervisory acknowledgement of someone who is completely removed from the person leaving. It is sobering to read the rules that explicitly say no hostage-takers will every be allowed to leave the prison).

For the hours I am at work, things are calm, pleasant. The inmates I see all are very well-behaved. There is an almost child-like, elementary atmosphere to the exchanges with them, as they genuinely seek favor and regard from the staff at the school.

But the lessening of freedom inside is tangible. Like a blanket that settles on your heart, a dimming of the light. It is wearying.

And breathing the free air again is exhilerating. I am Theoden, sundered from Saruman's grip. I am a child, running through a field.


I often ponder the tension between the concepts of freedom and obedience. The difference between freedom and chaos. Perhaps on another day (or in a different month), I can ruminate on those distinctions.

Today, I am grateful that I am free. What a wonderful country, in a wonderful world, where we can exert ourselves with such freedom.

Thankful for Stars and the Night Sky

I've been thankful for Sunrises and for light, I hope it's not splitting hairs too finely to be grateful for others suns and their light as well...

I can't remember when it was my star-gazing switch got flipped. But I love looking at stars. I have never been disappointed by a single meteorite, never had a >meh< experience with a lunar eclipse, have never failed to wonder at the glory of the heavens in their nocturnal splendor.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork." Psalms 19:1

There are few more delightful memories in my adult life than the night my daughter saw the moonbow in the sky after a ride home from Baltimore.

If anyone else is interested, I am planning on going to watch this. Someday I hope to take an astronomy vacation.


In the meantime I will be watching all the meteor showers I can get.

Thankful for Light

I wish this picture could better convey the golden glow of the air beneath this tree in our backyard. It's leaves are an amazing brilliant yellow right now, and at about 8:30 in the morning, the sun lights them up in a way that reflects sunshine everywhere.


I love lense flares in pictures of people.


I love the shadows light creates.


And I love the allegorical power of light. What it means as a guide, an illuminator of darkness.

Our kids know that in the winter, we open the front curtains during the day not just for the light, but for the warmth.

I love catching a glimpse of my wife's eyes when the sun falls obliquely across her face. She has beautiful, warm brown eyes, but in the sun just so, they look like golden honey, sweet and smooth.

I love turning out the lights when it is time to rest.

I love turning them back on in the morning, so the seminary kids know that we are awake and ready for them.

I am grateful for the light in my life.

Grateful for Medicine

Short post on my way to my new job at the Maryland Correction Institute - Jessup.

I'm grateful for the things we take that make us better, whether they treat the problem or the symptom.

I'm grateful for the advances in diagnosing problems, in repairing broken or damaged things. Once, earlier in my marriage, I started counting all the ways that medicine has comforted or saved the lives of my loved ones.

I have lost track since. It is humbling to consider how fragile we are. But fills me with gratitude to think of the living that has been extended.

I Am Thankful for Camping!

It's not been often enough, but sometimes we go camping as a whole family. I guess technically we "camp" much of the time when we go visit family. Last summer we went on a one-night cabin camp out.


Stewart and Steve have been room-mates before this year.


Daycamps, too. Most of the time, our camp outs have been tied to Scouting activities.


I am often impressed with the willingness of the boys to get out and do things in all kinds of crummy weather. This was the camp that we set up in the rain.


Our boys have grown up camping. I hope they have enjoyed it as much as I have.



This is always what the car looks like on the way home. Exhausted campers.


I don't often have the chance to appreciate how beautiful the world is, but camping takes us away from many of the things that make us so busy. I am grateful for the perspective.


The photo I used for my blogger portrait was from a camp in New York a few years ago. It was an amazing sunset.


I was glad this year to go on a few camps with all three boys. I'm not sure when the next time that will happen.

I'm Thankful for Church

Today I am thankful that it is early in the morning. We are the only congregation that meets in our building (some places in the world, as many as 5 different congregations will share the same facility, staggering their meeting start times from 7am to late in the evening), and that makes some people wish we started a little later.

Not me! I am glad to have the rest of Sunday to meet with family, to do things. Although I am glad we live 8 minutes away...

I'm thankful to teach and to be taught.

I'm thankful for friends to greet and be greeted by.

I'm glad my children have responsibilities at church, things they are expected to do.

When we travel, we go to church wherever we end up on a Sunday. Usually, that is with family. But occasionally, that has been in strange places. The habit matters to me, and I am glad that Jenni and I both feel the same way about it.

I am thankful for the freedom to worship, for a country that takes that freedom seriously.

The "G" in "Gmail" Stands for "Grateful"

I suppose this is sort of a product endorsement.

I am grateful for gmail.

I am grateful to the online friend that gave me an invite when it was still in beta-testing so I could early-adopt my lastname at gmaildotcom address. And then I could invite my kids in, too.

I'm grateful for the online calendar that we can all see, all update, all reference for upcoming events and scheduling. When the orthodontist gives me a little reminder card of the next appointment, I just it put on the google calendar and throw it away. When I pay a bill online, I make an entry on the google calendar with the amount and confirmation number on the date it will process.

I'm grateful for Blogger's accessibility that allows me to do this. And to see my kids' pictures/posts from BYU.

I'm grateful for the online doc of family info that is easily updated by every member of the family, so I can always find their new address or cell phone number quickly. We use it often when sending things to Emma and Stewart at BYU this semester.

I sort of vaccilate about using google maps (because there are other online map sources that work as well). But I've used google maps a lot, and I am grateful for them. Even some of the streetview funnies I have seen.


Technology is frustrating, wonderful, time-saving, time-wasting, useful (or not). I'm grateful for the ways it unites us.

Grateful for Schoolhouse Rock

*These* are the reason I watched Saturday Morning Cartoons as a youth. It infused my young mind/heart with a love for clever rhymes, an appreciation of many music styles, and the wonder of learning through singing. Taught me the preamble!



You can sing the 3 times table pausing just so, right?

Three, six, nine
twelve, fifteen, eighteen
twenty-one, twenty-four, twenty-seven
Thirty!



It's funny going back and watching them now, how culturally irrelevant some have become. The "melting pot" metaphor has been long-abandoned as a way of describing America. And I am sure it makes some people cringe to hear the expansion of the US territory described as a "meant to be ... manifest destiny."

But I treasure my memories of the songs. I am glad my kids have gotten to experience them (thanks Uncle Michael!) on DVD.

Grateful for Art

You know that credit card commercial that asks, "What's in your wallet?" How about, "What's on your wall?"

I am surrounded by beautiful, interesting, functional space. The ceilings, the walls, windows, doors, sometimes even the floors are part of the aesthetic. I live with an artist, which often makes life a little scary. I came home the other day and the kitchen smelled...a little strange. Two HUGE pots of water were heating up on the stove. The air was tinged with the smell of something acidic.

"Jenni?" I called out querilously. "In here!" she called from the bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

"Dying fabric!"

"This is probably what it feels like to be married to a mad scientist. Except without the explosions and reanimation, and with a lot more pretty colors."


It is a running in-joke that the furniture might be in a different place the next time you come to visit. The wall might be a different color. There might be different paintings/quilts/murals/ on the wall. We have have more pianos than the last time you visited.


Pay attention to your surroundings. Make them beautiful. Don't trip over the new chair. Take off your shoes and feel the new rug. Pause and ponder the message in the sign language, or brail, or the subtle words painted into the background.


The world is wondrous. Making your spaces equally compelling is one way to demonstrate reverence.

I am grateful for everything glorious in the world, but am especially grateful for the hard work and aesthetic talent Mrs. L brings to my home.

Grateful for Sunrises

Growing up, my Dad would often stop and point out the beauty of sunsets. Going out to eat at Gabler's once when I was a lad, I rememeber Dad stopping on the way there and making us all take in the setting sky, how it lit the sky, for just a moment.

After graduating from High School, I spent a few days at the beach. My friends all thought I was a doofus for wanting to, but I woke up at dark:thirty to watch the sun rise over the ocean.

Ever since, it has been a personal delight to take in the sunrise. There are many great things about seminary being taught in our home, but one I am especially grateful for is that I get to see the sunrise nearly every morning. I love seeing the world first and new. Sunrise was when we had to do Roxie Jane's baptism, too (in order to accomodate a host of scheduling demands). What a wonderful time, having the world nearly all to yourself.



Whenever Jennilyn and I go on a trip, if we can, we get up to watch the sunrise together.




Here's a shot from our reunion trip when Jenni went on a walk with her Mom and sister. To watch the sunrise!

Grateful for Trips

I love going places. Love anticipating going there, it's exciting. Looking back on having been there, it's the sharp, sweet sting of nostalgic longing.

Jenni and I go to the temple a lot. We go to temples when we travel

And when we are home. We try for once a month.

We go places to take awesome pictures (here at the sunflower fields a few weeks ago).

And take pictures when we go awesome places (here are Stewart and Emma waiting for the shuttle launch at Cape Canaveral).

Sometime the kids go places without us, and send us pictures (I love the Russian hat, the Texas shirt, while on a tour of mainland China).

Sometimes we visit somewhere close to home (we've missed Kilgore Falls since moving to southern Harford County).

We are grateful for friends with pools we can take trips to visit during the summer.

And we are grateful for the memories we make when me take trips as a family.

I love the winter, love the snow, but I look forward to going to the beach again next year.

I want to take Jenni to Europe, to Paris. I want to spend some time on a tropical island somewhere (the Maldives, maybe, before they disappear when the oceans rise?).

As long as I can travel with loved ones, or at least return home to them, I will enjoy the trip.