I was sad to read today the Hugh Nibley has died , just before his 95th birthday. I suppose you can say that it's about time, but I will miss the idea of having him around. I suppose it is merciful for God to take him now, before his daughter's book is released next month. I used one of his quotes on my wedding annoucement, as you may recall. It's still one of my favorite ideas:
"We recognize what is lovely because we have seen it somewhere else, and...when we see an object or person that pleases us, it is like recognizing an old friend; it hits us in the solar plexus and we need no lecturing to tell us that it is indeed quite perfect. It is something we have long been looking for, memories of how things should be."
I have read only two of his books (Approaching Zion and Temple and Cosmos-- about a million pages!) and heard him lecture only twice at BYU (once at a peace day rally during the gulf war and another time at a Book of Mormon Conference in the Library with my friend Kevin). But his thoughts and insights into the bigness--the eternal nature of truth, its consistency in all dispensations--helped me to reconcile my testimony with everything I have seen and learned as an adult. I am grateful for his life and work.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
By the Way
For mom, Gramps, and any other new internet people, those words in my entries that are colored and underlined link to other web sites and information. If you click on the colored words, another window will open and you will see the thing that I am talking about in my paragraph. You can close the linked window( or just click the BACK button) and go back to my blog when you are done. Nifty.
The Lost Boys (and Girls)
I read an interesting article last night (thanks for the link, Jeanne!) that articulated a lot of my thoughts lately. It also reminded me of Neal A. Maxwell’s June 1995 address at BYU called “The Bitter Harvest,” wherein he talked about all the ways in which our society has drifted from “traditional values” (which are now—thankfully—outlined in the Proclamation) and what the fruits that drifting has produced. It’s heartbreaking, really, especially all the fatherlessness. Think about what a cycle it produces—boys with no role models, girls with no male attention who seek it in the wrong places and end up as single mothers, raising yet another generation of fatherless children. The word “lost” just echoes through my mind over and over again. These kids are lost, wandering, wondering. A sample:
Statistically speaking, of course, few latchkey children grow up to be murderers. Yet beneath the public anxiety provoked by every such savage who takes the stage, beneath even the ritual media cycle that follows the recorded-for-television atrocities, lies an element of unspoken truth about the link between these adolescent outcasts and the rest of society. This is the fear shared by much of the adult world that perhaps the kids aren’t all right after all — that perhaps the decades-long experiment in leaving more and more of them to fend for themselves, whether for the sake of material betterment, career fulfillment, marital satisfaction, or other deep adult desires, has finally run amok. What troubles the public mind about these killers is not that they seem anomalous, but precisely that they might be emblematic. And the reason for this apprehension is essentially correct — in important ways, their lives have been indistinguishable from those of many other American children. Most, in virtue of their times, are part of the same trend that has been building for decades now throughout American society — the trend of leaving children increasingly to their own and their peers’ devices, bereft of adult, and particularly parental, attention.
I also love her explanation of the “cultural code of silence” about children really needing their mothers. And I would add, not just as babies, but as middle-schoolers—maybe even more so as middle schoolers!
I was kinda proud of this sentence: “The reality of the situation, as David Gelernter observed in Commentary four years ago, is that ‘Except for a few benighted precincts (the Mormon church, parts of the Orthodox Jewish community, parts of the Christian Right), society from Left to Right is lined up in force behind the idea of mothers taking jobs.’” Yay, benighted precincts.
And this statement sums of so much of what women are doing when they work outside the home: “Hochschild observes that for many women, ‘The emotional magnets beneath home and workplace are in the process of being reversed.’… for many women (and men), [office life] partially or fully supplants the hearth, offering simpler emotional involvements, more solvable tasks, and often a more companionable and appreciative class of people than those waiting at home.” Duh. This is exactly what happened to me when I quit my job to be with Addie. All my shiny dreams of motherhood faded and it was hard—much harder than my desk job, and certainly more thankless. But, for me, infinitely more rewarding.
Why? Well, with most people, I don’t have to defend my decision to stay home with my girls. Some days I have to defend it to myself, but it only takes about an hour away from then for me to know I simply cannot be away for a workday. Perhaps I am a little more emotional that the average mom, but from the moment I held Addie and wouldn’t let the nurse take her away, I have been attached to my kids. I thought I should return to my job, but I just couldn’t do it. I kept telling myself we needed the money, but my heart wouldn’t let me go. So we had to scrimp and save and sacrifice and even go bankrupt to make it work, but all the THINGS I had to do away with can be replaced. Addie’s babyhood can’t be replaced. My love and my memories can’t be replaced. As much as I have struggled with the isolation, the humbling craziness, the numbing sleepless of stay-at-home-mothering, I could never give it up. If I am going to be held responsible for these girls and what they become, then I am going to raise them hands-on!
“The connection between empty homes on today’s scale and childhood problems on today’s scale cannot possibly be dismissed as a coincidence. For some time, the data have been there for all to see, the dots fairly demanding to be connected.”
My girls will be surrounded by lonely, virtually abandoned kids. I hope I give them all the security they need, and enough to share. Enough so that they can rise above the sadness and desperation their generation will be drowning in.
I mean, my generation—we children of divorce, the first generation after The Revolution—thought we had it bad (“Americans born and raised in the 1970s and 1980s were three to four times more likely to commit suicide as people that age had been at mid-century.”)! The little broken hearts have multiplied exponentially and the expressions of that hurt have grown increasingly violent and disturbing. I hope their mommies (and daddies) will listen—are the houses and cars and vacations worth the price your babies are paying?
It’s hard to stay home. But it’s even harder to watch your child suffer because of your absence---at least I hope it’s harder. If it’s not, as this article concludes, “what we are in for next may be worse than anyone has guessed.”
Addendum: May I just add that some people are just not good mothers and can't handle their kids; in this case, perhaps their children are in better hands in day care. It's sad, but true. Lots of girls my age weren't raised to be mothers and consequently are unprepared for the demands. They return to work, and, although it's not the ideal situation, their kids are probably better off. I just had to admit that one little thing.
Statistically speaking, of course, few latchkey children grow up to be murderers. Yet beneath the public anxiety provoked by every such savage who takes the stage, beneath even the ritual media cycle that follows the recorded-for-television atrocities, lies an element of unspoken truth about the link between these adolescent outcasts and the rest of society. This is the fear shared by much of the adult world that perhaps the kids aren’t all right after all — that perhaps the decades-long experiment in leaving more and more of them to fend for themselves, whether for the sake of material betterment, career fulfillment, marital satisfaction, or other deep adult desires, has finally run amok. What troubles the public mind about these killers is not that they seem anomalous, but precisely that they might be emblematic. And the reason for this apprehension is essentially correct — in important ways, their lives have been indistinguishable from those of many other American children. Most, in virtue of their times, are part of the same trend that has been building for decades now throughout American society — the trend of leaving children increasingly to their own and their peers’ devices, bereft of adult, and particularly parental, attention.
I also love her explanation of the “cultural code of silence” about children really needing their mothers. And I would add, not just as babies, but as middle-schoolers—maybe even more so as middle schoolers!
I was kinda proud of this sentence: “The reality of the situation, as David Gelernter observed in Commentary four years ago, is that ‘Except for a few benighted precincts (the Mormon church, parts of the Orthodox Jewish community, parts of the Christian Right), society from Left to Right is lined up in force behind the idea of mothers taking jobs.’” Yay, benighted precincts.
And this statement sums of so much of what women are doing when they work outside the home: “Hochschild observes that for many women, ‘The emotional magnets beneath home and workplace are in the process of being reversed.’… for many women (and men), [office life] partially or fully supplants the hearth, offering simpler emotional involvements, more solvable tasks, and often a more companionable and appreciative class of people than those waiting at home.” Duh. This is exactly what happened to me when I quit my job to be with Addie. All my shiny dreams of motherhood faded and it was hard—much harder than my desk job, and certainly more thankless. But, for me, infinitely more rewarding.
Why? Well, with most people, I don’t have to defend my decision to stay home with my girls. Some days I have to defend it to myself, but it only takes about an hour away from then for me to know I simply cannot be away for a workday. Perhaps I am a little more emotional that the average mom, but from the moment I held Addie and wouldn’t let the nurse take her away, I have been attached to my kids. I thought I should return to my job, but I just couldn’t do it. I kept telling myself we needed the money, but my heart wouldn’t let me go. So we had to scrimp and save and sacrifice and even go bankrupt to make it work, but all the THINGS I had to do away with can be replaced. Addie’s babyhood can’t be replaced. My love and my memories can’t be replaced. As much as I have struggled with the isolation, the humbling craziness, the numbing sleepless of stay-at-home-mothering, I could never give it up. If I am going to be held responsible for these girls and what they become, then I am going to raise them hands-on!
“The connection between empty homes on today’s scale and childhood problems on today’s scale cannot possibly be dismissed as a coincidence. For some time, the data have been there for all to see, the dots fairly demanding to be connected.”
My girls will be surrounded by lonely, virtually abandoned kids. I hope I give them all the security they need, and enough to share. Enough so that they can rise above the sadness and desperation their generation will be drowning in.
I mean, my generation—we children of divorce, the first generation after The Revolution—thought we had it bad (“Americans born and raised in the 1970s and 1980s were three to four times more likely to commit suicide as people that age had been at mid-century.”)! The little broken hearts have multiplied exponentially and the expressions of that hurt have grown increasingly violent and disturbing. I hope their mommies (and daddies) will listen—are the houses and cars and vacations worth the price your babies are paying?
It’s hard to stay home. But it’s even harder to watch your child suffer because of your absence---at least I hope it’s harder. If it’s not, as this article concludes, “what we are in for next may be worse than anyone has guessed.”
Addendum: May I just add that some people are just not good mothers and can't handle their kids; in this case, perhaps their children are in better hands in day care. It's sad, but true. Lots of girls my age weren't raised to be mothers and consequently are unprepared for the demands. They return to work, and, although it's not the ideal situation, their kids are probably better off. I just had to admit that one little thing.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Who's the Only One Here Who Knows Illegal Ninja Moves From the Government?
The Young Women's President was sick tonight and the other couselor went into labor while we were at our activity tonight, so the secretary took her to the store to stock up in case she's REALLY in labor. That left me and the Young Mens Leaders (Happy Birthday Harry).
One of my Beehives (Hi, Lisa!) brought me the Napoleon Dynamite soundtrack to "borrow" (read: download). It's hilarious.
Overheard just now:
Rich: Addie, what are you doing?!
Addie: (shrugging and sighing in exasperation) I'm just being naughty, dad.
At least she's honest. We value integrity in this family.
One of my Beehives (Hi, Lisa!) brought me the Napoleon Dynamite soundtrack to "borrow" (read: download). It's hilarious.
Overheard just now:
Rich: Addie, what are you doing?!
Addie: (shrugging and sighing in exasperation) I'm just being naughty, dad.
At least she's honest. We value integrity in this family.
In Honor of Abe, George, and Ronnie
As mentioned previously, we had company over the long weekend. The fun started Friday when Matt and Amie arrived with Baby Jake from Helena around noon. We hung out all afternoon waiting for Cousin Brent to arrive from Utah--Matt and Rich unloaded our sheet rock at the house while Amie and I let the kiddies nap at home. Then at 5pm, still no Brent, we went to Fiesta en Jalisco (our local yummy Mexican restaurant) for dinner. Brent caught up with us there, and afterward, we went to have a drywalling lesson from Rich. He showed us how it's done and we got the whole guest room ceiling hung (of course, it's not that hard with 4 x 12' sheet rock). We went home and got to bed so we could get up early and work hard.
Saturday we ate breakfast at mom Melin's, then worked from 10am-1pm at Dave Young's house putting up siding. Amie's sister, Jenn, joined us at about noon. After that, we started hanging drywall at our house and we girls realized that we were "extra" (there are only 2 makeshift jacks to stand on and two screw guns--with Rich, Brent, Matt, and the missionaries, there was nothing for us to do) so we went and picked up the kids and got lunch ready. Everyone ate lunch and the boys went back to work while we cleaned up and put the babies down to nap.
At 5pm, we all drove out to check out the Melin ranch and go swimming at Chico Hot Springs. Heidi and Jake LOVED the warm water and we all enjoyed melting our aches and pains away. We ate salads and pizza for dinner at the grill at Chico, then went home to watch The Notebook at Melin's (aside: I really liked that movie and I didn't think I would--I mostly love the end).
In the wee hours of Sunday morning, the evil bug went to work and I got really sick by 5 am. Everybody went to church but I stayed home. In my little moments of strength I set the table and got lunch ready (Costco Lasagna and Parisienne Salad), then went back to bed. Rich came home at noon and told me everyone had left because they didn't want my germs, which made me cry (especially when I saw all the stuff they left behind), but Cousin Brent was still here and he and Rich ate some lunch and we all had a nice nap (for a change).
At about 5pm we got up and played with the girls--I was starting to feel better. Brent had to pack up and return home--his big cowboy rental truck was due back in Utah at 8am, and Rich wanted to take me to see what they had done on the house. So we said good bye to Brent (Addie whined for him--"I want my friend Uncle Brenty to come back"--he is THE BEST with kids) and I admired my almost-finished upstairs ceiling. I also made Rich take the mug they gave me at the hospital when I had Heidi and ask the nurses to refill it with soft ice so I could rehydrate. He took it into the hospital and they obliged--afterall, we probably paid $50 for it--it should come with some refills. The ice made me feel better and I had some toast before bed. I am still recovering, but it was still a wonderful weekend and we thank everyone for their help.
PS: Happy 55th Birthday, Dad Post! Sorry your card is late!
Saturday we ate breakfast at mom Melin's, then worked from 10am-1pm at Dave Young's house putting up siding. Amie's sister, Jenn, joined us at about noon. After that, we started hanging drywall at our house and we girls realized that we were "extra" (there are only 2 makeshift jacks to stand on and two screw guns--with Rich, Brent, Matt, and the missionaries, there was nothing for us to do) so we went and picked up the kids and got lunch ready. Everyone ate lunch and the boys went back to work while we cleaned up and put the babies down to nap.
At 5pm, we all drove out to check out the Melin ranch and go swimming at Chico Hot Springs. Heidi and Jake LOVED the warm water and we all enjoyed melting our aches and pains away. We ate salads and pizza for dinner at the grill at Chico, then went home to watch The Notebook at Melin's (aside: I really liked that movie and I didn't think I would--I mostly love the end).
In the wee hours of Sunday morning, the evil bug went to work and I got really sick by 5 am. Everybody went to church but I stayed home. In my little moments of strength I set the table and got lunch ready (Costco Lasagna and Parisienne Salad), then went back to bed. Rich came home at noon and told me everyone had left because they didn't want my germs, which made me cry (especially when I saw all the stuff they left behind), but Cousin Brent was still here and he and Rich ate some lunch and we all had a nice nap (for a change).
At about 5pm we got up and played with the girls--I was starting to feel better. Brent had to pack up and return home--his big cowboy rental truck was due back in Utah at 8am, and Rich wanted to take me to see what they had done on the house. So we said good bye to Brent (Addie whined for him--"I want my friend Uncle Brenty to come back"--he is THE BEST with kids) and I admired my almost-finished upstairs ceiling. I also made Rich take the mug they gave me at the hospital when I had Heidi and ask the nurses to refill it with soft ice so I could rehydrate. He took it into the hospital and they obliged--afterall, we probably paid $50 for it--it should come with some refills. The ice made me feel better and I had some toast before bed. I am still recovering, but it was still a wonderful weekend and we thank everyone for their help.
PS: Happy 55th Birthday, Dad Post! Sorry your card is late!
Heidi has quite the reportoire of silly faces these days (as well as screams and yells for her screeching matches with Addie). Here is one of our favorite silly faces--she only does this when she is really wired and crazy--it cracks us up. If you look really close on the right, you can see her top teeth trying to get through.
We had such a fun weekend, we took the camera everywhere but forgot to take pictures! Here is the one photo I have of Cousin Brent at my house. This is at our lunch on Saturday--the boys took a break from drywalling and came home for stew and fresh bread. Here Brent and Addie are entertaining Heidi while she waits for her lunch. We love Brenty Bobbins!
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Free Mojtaba and Arash
Writng this blog is a freedom of expression I have obviously taken for granted. Read what Jessica and the committee have to say about Iranian bloggers imprisoned for writing about their worlds (and be grateful for our freedom of speech).
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