Some friendships are meant to be. And if you are really fortunate, you find yourself in a group of friends that was meant to be.
In college, I found myself living with some great girls (both by design and "accident") as well as across from some fabulous neighbors. Over my few years in school, members of the two groups would trade in and out, marry (sometimes one another) and move. But even in the fluidity of the group, there were some core friendships that held it all together.
Fortune smiled on us this summer, and thanks to the miracle of Facebook, with just a few days notice, a majority of the old gang was able to gather at Lawyerboy's house. Though for some of us it had been years, we re-connected as if it had never been otherwise.
Though my personality was formed at home, my experiences with these friends, helped me to morph into the adult I would eventually become. I think my friendships in that group are the reason that my old college town is the place I'm most likely to call "home." Each member of that group has such a collection of special memories attached to them. In some groups of people, you revert to a certain persona. With these people, it isn't really necessary because I just love who I am when I am with them. They have been bringing out the best in me since 1993.
One of my favorite pictures from my wedding day is standing outside the temple, arms linked together with these friends: men and women who exerted such a positive influence in my life that I still feel its effects years later. Our LDS theology teaches us that families will be together, but on that day I understood that the best friendships are likewise eternal. As I stood with men and women who have been at important times as near and dear to me as my actual brothers and sister, I knew that my journey was forever linked to theirs.
On the night of our barbecue it was hard to decide where to be. I wanted to be a part of each clustered conversation. Nate would say that it is because I have a (strong) opinion about everything, but I think it is mostly because everyone had such interesting things to say. Conversation topics ranged from Twilight to China as a world power to adoption to raising children to the Middle East to decorating to hair cuts to employment . . . . you get the idea. In the right group of friends, the lightest subjects or the heaviest topics all take on special meaning. Are we friends because we all agree? Noooooooooooo. . . . . . . . quite the contrary. Still, somehow, they are the most agreeable people to disagree with.
I've moved a lot, and often a great distance between locations. How grateful I am for friends who will always be friends even when years and miles separate us. Seeing them again was like picking up in the middle of a conversation. Though we lingered late, and well past the time for happy little kids, we still have more to say to one another. But I'm content; some conversations never really end.
Showing posts with label Logan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Logan. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Going Goth
For reasons too complex (read: boring) to explain, I had four different book groups to attend on the calendar in a three week stretch. Don't worry, I fully recognize that such behavior is completely crazy. Still, I have a rather inflated sense of my own importance at these types of activities, and didn't feel like there was any one I could reasonably put off/postpone/cancel. Besides, the scheduling of the groups was entirely accidental--one moved up, one pushed back, one just meeting temporarily.
How could I say no?
We are talking about discussing books, after all. And not just any books--three of the four were pretty darn good. The fourth, well, let's just say that it was fine, but I didn't feel like it was really worthy of making it on to a book group list along side titles like "Cry, the Beloved Country."
One of the groups was just a one-time thing. Desmama and I met years ago in Houston through a mutual friend at a book group. In a stroke of best luck, she and I ended up moving to Utah at the same time. We started a book group there, but everyone in the charter group, except Desmama, has since moved. Desmama expanded the group to others and kept it going. She invited me to join them for their discussion of "Jane Eyre" in July.
I drooled at the suggestion of the opportunity, and looked forward to it as a major highlight of my trip. I was not disappointed.
Our discussion was lively and interesting. I reviewed Jane Eyre a couple of years ago here, so I won't go into that, but we did have a discussion of Gothic literature elements, which I really loved. Usually when I think of Gothic literature, I think of vampires, but the truth is, the genre is much broader than that. Modern fantasy literature owes a lot to the Gothic tradition as well.
As I researched a bit about Gothic literature elements, I was surprised to peruse the list of elements and realize that I've actually been reading quite a lot of Gothic literature over the last few months--quite by accident. I also recently finished "Northanger Abbey," a spoof on the whole genre which was growing in alarming popularity during Austen's early career. The Gothic elements in Harry Potter abound. Actually, the place that many of the elements are surprisingly absent is in the Twilight books. (One of the reasons they can be considered unique--Meyer guts a lot of the traditional elements from the vampire genre.)
The women at Desmama's book group were so intelligent and friendly. It was an absolute pleasure to meet them, and share a girls' night out with them. The wonderful woman who hosted has five sons and a husband out of town with the Boy Scouts all week. I was so impressed with the cheerful way she opened her home to us, despite having had a very long and difficult day.
Perhaps the strangest part was meeting people, and then having Desmama introduce me by my blognym as well. There were a few who had a dawning appear on their face when she said "Scienceteachermommy." That was very weird, and I had to think again about that strange blurring between public and private life. That is a post I still think I will write one day, if I come to any conclusions.
If being known by my blognym was the oddest, however, it was also the best. Em, whom I've never met before (and won't link here, she's private), gave me the biggest hug, greeting my like a long, lost sister instead of a total stranger. She is prettier in person than even her gorgeous pictures and she is even more beautiful on the inside.
All around, it is probably the nicest girls' night out I've had in a very long time. Thanks ladies!
How could I say no?
We are talking about discussing books, after all. And not just any books--three of the four were pretty darn good. The fourth, well, let's just say that it was fine, but I didn't feel like it was really worthy of making it on to a book group list along side titles like "Cry, the Beloved Country."
One of the groups was just a one-time thing. Desmama and I met years ago in Houston through a mutual friend at a book group. In a stroke of best luck, she and I ended up moving to Utah at the same time. We started a book group there, but everyone in the charter group, except Desmama, has since moved. Desmama expanded the group to others and kept it going. She invited me to join them for their discussion of "Jane Eyre" in July.
I drooled at the suggestion of the opportunity, and looked forward to it as a major highlight of my trip. I was not disappointed.
Our discussion was lively and interesting. I reviewed Jane Eyre a couple of years ago here, so I won't go into that, but we did have a discussion of Gothic literature elements, which I really loved. Usually when I think of Gothic literature, I think of vampires, but the truth is, the genre is much broader than that. Modern fantasy literature owes a lot to the Gothic tradition as well.
As I researched a bit about Gothic literature elements, I was surprised to peruse the list of elements and realize that I've actually been reading quite a lot of Gothic literature over the last few months--quite by accident. I also recently finished "Northanger Abbey," a spoof on the whole genre which was growing in alarming popularity during Austen's early career. The Gothic elements in Harry Potter abound. Actually, the place that many of the elements are surprisingly absent is in the Twilight books. (One of the reasons they can be considered unique--Meyer guts a lot of the traditional elements from the vampire genre.)
The women at Desmama's book group were so intelligent and friendly. It was an absolute pleasure to meet them, and share a girls' night out with them. The wonderful woman who hosted has five sons and a husband out of town with the Boy Scouts all week. I was so impressed with the cheerful way she opened her home to us, despite having had a very long and difficult day.
Perhaps the strangest part was meeting people, and then having Desmama introduce me by my blognym as well. There were a few who had a dawning appear on their face when she said "Scienceteachermommy." That was very weird, and I had to think again about that strange blurring between public and private life. That is a post I still think I will write one day, if I come to any conclusions.
If being known by my blognym was the oddest, however, it was also the best. Em, whom I've never met before (and won't link here, she's private), gave me the biggest hug, greeting my like a long, lost sister instead of a total stranger. She is prettier in person than even her gorgeous pictures and she is even more beautiful on the inside.
All around, it is probably the nicest girls' night out I've had in a very long time. Thanks ladies!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Evilution
Some weeks back, a former student sent me a message on Facebook, expressing conflict over the way her high school teacher was presenting evolution in her science class. My previous school was in a predominately LDS small town in Utah. Knowing that she is a very religious person, she didn't need to say very much for me to understand precisely what her conflict is.
Over the years, as I've worked with young teenage women in the LDS Church (and heck, their mothers and grandmothers too!) I am often discouraged by what a bad rap science gets. Too many religious women view science as something for men to glom onto, or as something whose purpose is to undermine faith. For the uber-religious, science is too often synonymous with atheism. Because I usually am in the context of a church setting when working with these kids, it is not always appropriate for me to challenge their thinking when it comes to secular knowledge.
My young friend gave me a perfect opportunity to both share my faith, and my own seemingly contradictory journey to marry science with religion. It also caused me to do some careful research. A generation before the years that had a strong bearing on my adult self--both religiously and intellectually--the Church also underwent a time of growing pains. When Dallin H. Oaks (now an apostle of the LDS Church) was the president of Brigham Young University, there were deep divisions in Church administration regarding whether or not the subject of evolution should be presented at BYU. Though the Scopes Monkey Trial had been fifty years earlier, there were statements by general authorities in place--both official and unofficial--that were problematic for determining a mainstream course of action at the Church University.
Oaks settled the question by offering his professional opinion to those who made such decisions for BYU (including President Hinckley) by making the following statement, "If we stopped teaching this theory, within a few years students from BYU would not be admitted to…graduate schools. At that point we would cease to function as a recognized university and would, in the eyes of the world (especially the world of higher education), be little more than a seminary with added courses in the humanities. I have no doubt whatever that our accreditation as an institution of higher education would be lost."
He then added, though I must say he hardly needed to, "The issue is just loaded."
For further information, there are a couple of really great websites I found. The first contains any statement the author could EVER find on evolution put out by the Church. It is important to point out, however, that only four of these statements are deemed "official." The most recent of these official statements was actually given in the 1930's, and though each builds on a First Presidency Statement made in the very early part of the 1900's, over the years, each statement becomes more and more general, in the end merely emphasizing that God created the earth and that Adam was the "first man" and prophet. The eternal progression of man in the world to come is also reiterated (talk about evolving). This softening of language is indicative of a view of science at odds with those who would use the Bible as a scientific manual to teach Creationism.
The second website emphasizes the official statements, quotes from faithful LDS people and scientists regarding knowledge and the attainment of it, and a wonderful talk from Hugh B. Brown under the "LDS Articles" link. There is enough here to keep you busy for days if you are interested. If you are not, well, you've probably already quit and I'm already over it.
Years before going to bat for evolution, Elder Oaks issued statements to the faculty at BYU strongly condemning those who would make assumptions about their colleagues' commitment to the Church based on their training in the sciences. As your read excerpts from the letter I sent to my former student, I would ask you to do the same for me.
Enjoy.
"Dear K,
"My intention is not to convince you of a certain way of thinking: as always I want my students to think for themselves and draw their own conclusions, but sharing my story might help you to see that any worthwhile journey of faith and knowledge takes time, and that some answers and conclusions don’t immediately reveal themselves.
“My first good life science class was my AP Biology class. It was a bit intimidating—I was a young sophomore and my teacher was the head football coach. He was loud and disorganized and sometimes lazy. But I loved him. His perspective was unique. He had arrived at an interest in science only later in life when he realized that if he wanted to coach high school ball, he was going to have to actually get a major in something besides PE. Though in his early 40’s when I first knew him, he had only been a member of the Church a few years.
“When he taught the chapter on evolution (he called it “evilution” just to nettle us), he presented the information in the book and I found myself very conflicted. Though it seemed to contradict everything I’d been taught at church, the theory deeply appealed to my sense of logic. Furthermore, that appeal was disturbing to me—wasn’t my faith already weak enough to be wondering about such things?
“Then, on the last day of the unit he gave us time to express our opinions and discuss discrepancies between the stories of creation we had been taught and evolutionary theory. Most of us, though not all, were LDS, but most of the other kids were Christians of some variety and the conversation was lively and fascinating. Though I’m pretty sure neither our science or our religion was very factual that morning, it was wonderful to have such a discussion in an atmosphere where we didn’t feel chided for our questions about God, or unsophisticated for our belief in something beyond biological chemicals. It was because of his class I became a science teacher.
“Fast-forward to college, where I spent much of my first year spinning my wheels both spiritually and intellectually. Gone were the days of Christian science teachers helping you navigate your way through tough concepts—evolution wasn’t merely a subject you studied in biology, this theory and its huge body of supporting evidence provided the entire foundation for most of my biology classes. There was no question of it being ‘just’ a theory, this was THE theory. (If you look at the word theory from a scientific standpoint, you know that 'just' doesn’t really apply anyway.)
“. . . . I spent a lot of time questioning. I didn’t think it was at all possible for religious doctrine to reconcile with scientific teaching. Some people are given the gift of faith. My mother is one of these, and so is my sister. I am not. In fact, quite the opposite. My own gifts of intellect, practicality, logic and curiosity sometimes seem to work in direct opposition to having faith.
“Then, halfway through my freshman year until about halfway through my sophomore year, I was faced with a series of unexpected and very serious challenges. The details here would fill pages, so I will spare you, but suffice it to say, I had to really find out for myself if the Church was true, or if all this eternal-families-stuff was just a nice fairy tale to make us feel better about death and trials.
“It took some time, but I’m glad I didn’t give up. I came to know for myself that the Lord had a hand in my life, that the Atonement was real and personal . . . once I was finally at peace with my own beliefs, I was able to compartmentalize the science. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined not to let my perceived inconsistencies between faith and science either deter me from my religion or from the subject I loved.
“Time passed, and as my spiritual faith and secular knowledge both deepened, I came to realize that I no longer had to compartmentalize the two. My study of science had given me a greater appreciation for God and His magnificent creation. My study of religion had given me the influence of the Holy Ghost which helped me to separate truth from error, or to be settled with the questions that weren’t answerable. I eventually became a missionary and recognized how simple the core message of the gospel is, how simple salvation is. The more questions I asked and more curious I became, the more I also realized how few of the questions really NEED to be answered in order for you to live a good, righteous life. . . .
"Deseret Book published a collection of essays some years ago called “Reflections of a Scientist” by Henry Eyring (the current apostle’s father) that says some amazing things about faith and religion. (Excerpts here.) I will not quote it directly—I loaned the book out and it seems I didn’t get it back. But I remember him saying that true science and true religion would never be in conflict with one another. That if they seemed to contradict, it was because we didn’t have enough knowledge. As a member of the General Sunday School board, he of course asserted the truthfulness of the Church, but readily acknowledged how little had been revealed to us by God about the majestic workings of the universe, and that human curiosity should be boundless in trying to figure things out. . . .
“When my husband took his core biology classes, he was taught the evolution portion by a wonderful professor named Dr. Frank Messina. (I’d hadMessina for graduate level evolution years earlier—one of the best classes I ever took . . .Messina
“Dr. Messina came to the conclusion . . . that both religion and science were ways of knowing. Religion uses the 'evidence of things NOT seen' (Hebrews 11:1) and science uses evidence we can observe through our five senses. Interestingly enough, at the same time I attended a Utah State Science Teachers conference and one of our break-out groups was facilitated by a BYU professor who broached the subject of teaching evolution in a conservative community. Many of his conclusions were identical to Dr. Messina—who are we to say how God created life on our planet? It is enough for salvation to know that He did. For me, my own life would be incomplete if I had not learned to use both the seen and the unseen to help guide my decisions and stimulate my mind and spirit.
“As for specifics? I’ve come to some of my own (very un-doctrinal!) conclusions there, and won’t share them. In time, if the reconciliation seems important to you, the Spirit will guide you into your own truth. Or it will help you to know that NOT knowing (at least for now) is okay too. What I will say very specifically is I . . . believe whole-heartedly that Adam was the first prophet—the first man who in body and mind was created in God’s image and with potential to become like our Father in Heaven. I believe that same potential lies in each one of us as well. I know that having faith makes life richer, fuller and better. . . ."
I told you in my last post that I was bundle of contradictions.
Over the years, as I've worked with young teenage women in the LDS Church (and heck, their mothers and grandmothers too!) I am often discouraged by what a bad rap science gets. Too many religious women view science as something for men to glom onto, or as something whose purpose is to undermine faith. For the uber-religious, science is too often synonymous with atheism. Because I usually am in the context of a church setting when working with these kids, it is not always appropriate for me to challenge their thinking when it comes to secular knowledge.
My young friend gave me a perfect opportunity to both share my faith, and my own seemingly contradictory journey to marry science with religion. It also caused me to do some careful research. A generation before the years that had a strong bearing on my adult self--both religiously and intellectually--the Church also underwent a time of growing pains. When Dallin H. Oaks (now an apostle of the LDS Church) was the president of Brigham Young University, there were deep divisions in Church administration regarding whether or not the subject of evolution should be presented at BYU. Though the Scopes Monkey Trial had been fifty years earlier, there were statements by general authorities in place--both official and unofficial--that were problematic for determining a mainstream course of action at the Church University.
Oaks settled the question by offering his professional opinion to those who made such decisions for BYU (including President Hinckley) by making the following statement, "If we stopped teaching this theory, within a few years students from BYU would not be admitted to…graduate schools. At that point we would cease to function as a recognized university and would, in the eyes of the world (especially the world of higher education), be little more than a seminary with added courses in the humanities. I have no doubt whatever that our accreditation as an institution of higher education would be lost."
He then added, though I must say he hardly needed to, "The issue is just loaded."
For further information, there are a couple of really great websites I found. The first contains any statement the author could EVER find on evolution put out by the Church. It is important to point out, however, that only four of these statements are deemed "official." The most recent of these official statements was actually given in the 1930's, and though each builds on a First Presidency Statement made in the very early part of the 1900's, over the years, each statement becomes more and more general, in the end merely emphasizing that God created the earth and that Adam was the "first man" and prophet. The eternal progression of man in the world to come is also reiterated (talk about evolving). This softening of language is indicative of a view of science at odds with those who would use the Bible as a scientific manual to teach Creationism.
The second website emphasizes the official statements, quotes from faithful LDS people and scientists regarding knowledge and the attainment of it, and a wonderful talk from Hugh B. Brown under the "LDS Articles" link. There is enough here to keep you busy for days if you are interested. If you are not, well, you've probably already quit and I'm already over it.
Years before going to bat for evolution, Elder Oaks issued statements to the faculty at BYU strongly condemning those who would make assumptions about their colleagues' commitment to the Church based on their training in the sciences. As your read excerpts from the letter I sent to my former student, I would ask you to do the same for me.
Enjoy.
"Dear K,
"My intention is not to convince you of a certain way of thinking: as always I want my students to think for themselves and draw their own conclusions, but sharing my story might help you to see that any worthwhile journey of faith and knowledge takes time, and that some answers and conclusions don’t immediately reveal themselves.
“My first good life science class was my AP Biology class. It was a bit intimidating—I was a young sophomore and my teacher was the head football coach. He was loud and disorganized and sometimes lazy. But I loved him. His perspective was unique. He had arrived at an interest in science only later in life when he realized that if he wanted to coach high school ball, he was going to have to actually get a major in something besides PE. Though in his early 40’s when I first knew him, he had only been a member of the Church a few years.
“When he taught the chapter on evolution (he called it “evilution” just to nettle us), he presented the information in the book and I found myself very conflicted. Though it seemed to contradict everything I’d been taught at church, the theory deeply appealed to my sense of logic. Furthermore, that appeal was disturbing to me—wasn’t my faith already weak enough to be wondering about such things?
“Then, on the last day of the unit he gave us time to express our opinions and discuss discrepancies between the stories of creation we had been taught and evolutionary theory. Most of us, though not all, were LDS, but most of the other kids were Christians of some variety and the conversation was lively and fascinating. Though I’m pretty sure neither our science or our religion was very factual that morning, it was wonderful to have such a discussion in an atmosphere where we didn’t feel chided for our questions about God, or unsophisticated for our belief in something beyond biological chemicals. It was because of his class I became a science teacher.
“Fast-forward to college, where I spent much of my first year spinning my wheels both spiritually and intellectually. Gone were the days of Christian science teachers helping you navigate your way through tough concepts—evolution wasn’t merely a subject you studied in biology, this theory and its huge body of supporting evidence provided the entire foundation for most of my biology classes. There was no question of it being ‘just’ a theory, this was THE theory. (If you look at the word theory from a scientific standpoint, you know that 'just' doesn’t really apply anyway.)
“. . . . I spent a lot of time questioning. I didn’t think it was at all possible for religious doctrine to reconcile with scientific teaching. Some people are given the gift of faith. My mother is one of these, and so is my sister. I am not. In fact, quite the opposite. My own gifts of intellect, practicality, logic and curiosity sometimes seem to work in direct opposition to having faith.
“Then, halfway through my freshman year until about halfway through my sophomore year, I was faced with a series of unexpected and very serious challenges. The details here would fill pages, so I will spare you, but suffice it to say, I had to really find out for myself if the Church was true, or if all this eternal-families-stuff was just a nice fairy tale to make us feel better about death and trials.
“It took some time, but I’m glad I didn’t give up. I came to know for myself that the Lord had a hand in my life, that the Atonement was real and personal . . . once I was finally at peace with my own beliefs, I was able to compartmentalize the science. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined not to let my perceived inconsistencies between faith and science either deter me from my religion or from the subject I loved.
“Time passed, and as my spiritual faith and secular knowledge both deepened, I came to realize that I no longer had to compartmentalize the two. My study of science had given me a greater appreciation for God and His magnificent creation. My study of religion had given me the influence of the Holy Ghost which helped me to separate truth from error, or to be settled with the questions that weren’t answerable. I eventually became a missionary and recognized how simple the core message of the gospel is, how simple salvation is. The more questions I asked and more curious I became, the more I also realized how few of the questions really NEED to be answered in order for you to live a good, righteous life. . . .
"Deseret Book published a collection of essays some years ago called “Reflections of a Scientist” by Henry Eyring (the current apostle’s father) that says some amazing things about faith and religion. (Excerpts here.) I will not quote it directly—I loaned the book out and it seems I didn’t get it back. But I remember him saying that true science and true religion would never be in conflict with one another. That if they seemed to contradict, it was because we didn’t have enough knowledge. As a member of the General Sunday School board, he of course asserted the truthfulness of the Church, but readily acknowledged how little had been revealed to us by God about the majestic workings of the universe, and that human curiosity should be boundless in trying to figure things out. . . .
“When my husband took his core biology classes, he was taught the evolution portion by a wonderful professor named Dr. Frank Messina. (I’d had
“Dr. Messina came to the conclusion . . . that both religion and science were ways of knowing. Religion uses the 'evidence of things NOT seen' (Hebrews 11:1) and science uses evidence we can observe through our five senses. Interestingly enough, at the same time I attended a Utah State Science Teachers conference and one of our break-out groups was facilitated by a BYU professor who broached the subject of teaching evolution in a conservative community. Many of his conclusions were identical to Dr. Messina—who are we to say how God created life on our planet? It is enough for salvation to know that He did. For me, my own life would be incomplete if I had not learned to use both the seen and the unseen to help guide my decisions and stimulate my mind and spirit.
“As for specifics? I’ve come to some of my own (very un-doctrinal!) conclusions there, and won’t share them. In time, if the reconciliation seems important to you, the Spirit will guide you into your own truth. Or it will help you to know that NOT knowing (at least for now) is okay too. What I will say very specifically is I . . . believe whole-heartedly that Adam was the first prophet—the first man who in body and mind was created in God’s image and with potential to become like our Father in Heaven. I believe that same potential lies in each one of us as well. I know that having faith makes life richer, fuller and better. . . ."
I told you in my last post that I was bundle of contradictions.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Boys LIKE To Be Naked
Youngling got out of the tub the other night and ran down the hall squealing and giggling. I chased him, and he only giggled louder. He loves this game. After about a minute, he corners himself on purpose with a look that can only be described as pure mischief. Then he lets you catch him. Once caught, he expects to be held down, tickled and covered in kisses. Then the giggling really starts. Almost two years old is such a fantastic age.
He especially likes this game when he's naked: after all, what is better than tummy kisses? Anyway, back to the other night. As he lays there giggling and fighting off the diaper I'm trying to put on him, my seven year-old comes running down the hall. Also naked. He is fresh from the shower and he has obviously taken the time to dry off and comb his hair, but he somehow failed to put on the clothes I left sitting outside the shower for him. He threw his arms wide, shook his buns and yelled, "What do you think of ME!"
I yelled right back, in my most amused mommy yell, "I think you're naked! Put some clothes on." (There is a lot of volume set to high in our house.) He ran back to the bathroom.
Just as I got Youngling's diaper on, child number two made an appearance, underwear on his head singing a song he and Jedi made up called "My Underpants." This song has few lyrics but you can only sing it while naked or in the process of putting your underwear on.
I turned to Plantboy, who was watching a basketball game, and said, "You know, I think boys like to be naked."
He nodded and said, "I can prove it."
Scienceteachermommy loves proof. "Okay," I challenged.
"You always went to girls camp, right?" Nod. "Did you ever pee to put out the fire?"
"No."
"Did you ever run naked around the fire, chanting and yelling? And don't even ask me where the leaders were--probably hopped up on benadryl in their tent."
"Never ran around the fire naked."
"Well, did you ever burn your underwear while roasting it on a hot dog stick over open flames?"
"No."
"All of these things happen at Boy Scout Camp."
So. Boys do like nudity. And fire.
I'm now going to add a couple of anecdotes to add to my overwhelming proof for my boys-like-to-be-naked-(and-also-love-fire) theory.
In high school, a large-ish group of us went camping after graduation. The fire was dying low and it was getting very late. We decided to head to bed--boys in one tent, girls in another, if you wanted to know--but the guys hung around for a little while. Finally one of them said, "Girls, we need to put this fire out and you need to go to bed." A few girls had clued in to what was about to go down and helped get the rest of us herded into our tent.
I can't even describe how horrible flame-broiled logs covered in urine smell.
This next story really happened, but if you don't believe me, I don't blame you. If I hadn't experienced this story for myself I'm not sure I could buy it either. I can appeal to Tiffany (who checks in occasionally) to vouch for my honesty here. Chrisw probably also heard this story very shortly after it happened and can back me up too.
In Logan there is lawyer's office with an indoor pool. Apparently the partners wanted to build a pool for their families to use, and since you can only swim outdoors in N. Utah about two months of the year, the practice was the obvious place to put it. They built a small basement apartment with a separate entrance from the office and rented it out to a couple who then maintained the pool in exchange for cheap rent and scheduling rights to the pool.
Tiffany was my roommate (along with PammyLee, Pocohantas and Pocahantas' cousin, Steph), and her sister happened to be living in the pool apartment at the time. For several weeks she had promised we could come, and finally was able to get a Friday night free for us. She put our names on the calendar and gave Tiffany the key, as she was out of town that night.
It was a dark and stormy night (I swear I am not making this up), and freezing outside. As soon as we walked in the door at the law office, we knew something was wrong. We could hear a bunch of voices coming from the pool. We were so bugged. We'd had the pool scheduled for like two weeks and some spoiled lawyer-brats were using our pool time! We debated on staying or going, but righteous indignation won out.
Tiffany said that she just wanted to see what was going on before we started kicking people out, so we went into her sister's apartment and Tiffany walked up a short flight of stairs to the back pool entrance. She crept very quietly.
Twenty seconds later she came shooting back down the stairs like she had seen a ghost. "Naked," she said, rather breathlessly, "All naked. Probably 20 guys. All naked."
AAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!! That is when the giggling started; but of course, the question of kicking them out was answered. Being naked in the pool is like licking the sucker--man, you own it.
Steph, who had seen a bit more of the world than the rest of us, didn't buy into the "let's leave now" proposal. She'd come from Dixie College to the land of the frozen chosen without even a sweater. She had a bikini drawer, for crying out loud! Steph was not afraid of the melee up the stairs.
She walked right past us, and we saw her stand at the top of the stairs, hand on her hip, and we just knew she was giving the eyebrow as only Steph could. Oh, and she was a total babe.
About fifteen seconds after she planted her hot self on the top stair, the screaming began. And then the running. We heard a lot of swearing and at least 20 variations on the "Dude! It's a chick!" theme. Wild Steph, her hand on the hip and the eyebrow had cleared the room in less than a minute. She didn't say a word.
All of these naked guys were now holed up in the law office. She walked over the door, ripped it open and very sweetly asked who was hosting the party. A very sheepish looking individual, probably a college freshman, made his way through the crowd and she told him, in those same honeyed tones that WE had the pool reserved and they had about five minutes to be dressed and GONE before we started making some phone calls.
She flounced her lovely curly head back down to where we huddled, laughing our heads off at the bottom of the stairs. We waited five minutes, swept the last few out of the office, locked the doors and changed--one at a time, behind locked doors, thank you very much. No group nudity for us.
As if this is not all weird enough, we think that some of them actually came back and were looking in through the windows. Other than Steph, and maybe Pocahontas, none of us were girls that you would seriously scout out in their swimming suits. Especially if you had to climb a hedge to do it. In February. In the snow. So they were exhibitionists, desperate AND creepy. Still, if I was going to write a horror novel this would probably be a great start. At one point we thought we saw both hands and faces pushed against the glass poolhouse through the steam and condensation.
So fire, nudity . . . and, oh, yes, lightsabers. We had a Dos de Mayo party at Tabula Rasa and Jamin's house Saturday. She and I wanted to make homemade tamales and it is always fun to hang out with them. Between us, there are five boys: we watched a lightsaber fight that probably went on for a good hour--two if you count the Wii. My favorite is when Jedi yells, "Now in slow motion!" and everybody fights in slo-mo. The facials are awesome. When I asked Jedi the other night why he wasn't firing his dart gun back at me, he said, "Mom, my bullets won't defeat you! My moves will." Ah. I think his moves need a little bit of work. I probably hit him forty times.
So I guess my boys like to be naked, but maybe this momma likes violence.
He especially likes this game when he's naked: after all, what is better than tummy kisses? Anyway, back to the other night. As he lays there giggling and fighting off the diaper I'm trying to put on him, my seven year-old comes running down the hall. Also naked. He is fresh from the shower and he has obviously taken the time to dry off and comb his hair, but he somehow failed to put on the clothes I left sitting outside the shower for him. He threw his arms wide, shook his buns and yelled, "What do you think of ME!"
I yelled right back, in my most amused mommy yell, "I think you're naked! Put some clothes on." (There is a lot of volume set to high in our house.) He ran back to the bathroom.
Just as I got Youngling's diaper on, child number two made an appearance, underwear on his head singing a song he and Jedi made up called "My Underpants." This song has few lyrics but you can only sing it while naked or in the process of putting your underwear on.
I turned to Plantboy, who was watching a basketball game, and said, "You know, I think boys like to be naked."
He nodded and said, "I can prove it."
Scienceteachermommy loves proof. "Okay," I challenged.
"You always went to girls camp, right?" Nod. "Did you ever pee to put out the fire?"
"No."
"Did you ever run naked around the fire, chanting and yelling? And don't even ask me where the leaders were--probably hopped up on benadryl in their tent."
"Never ran around the fire naked."
"Well, did you ever burn your underwear while roasting it on a hot dog stick over open flames?"
"No."
"All of these things happen at Boy Scout Camp."
So. Boys do like nudity. And fire.
I'm now going to add a couple of anecdotes to add to my overwhelming proof for my boys-like-to-be-naked-(and-also-love-fire) theory.
In high school, a large-ish group of us went camping after graduation. The fire was dying low and it was getting very late. We decided to head to bed--boys in one tent, girls in another, if you wanted to know--but the guys hung around for a little while. Finally one of them said, "Girls, we need to put this fire out and you need to go to bed." A few girls had clued in to what was about to go down and helped get the rest of us herded into our tent.
I can't even describe how horrible flame-broiled logs covered in urine smell.
This next story really happened, but if you don't believe me, I don't blame you. If I hadn't experienced this story for myself I'm not sure I could buy it either. I can appeal to Tiffany (who checks in occasionally) to vouch for my honesty here. Chrisw probably also heard this story very shortly after it happened and can back me up too.
In Logan there is lawyer's office with an indoor pool. Apparently the partners wanted to build a pool for their families to use, and since you can only swim outdoors in N. Utah about two months of the year, the practice was the obvious place to put it. They built a small basement apartment with a separate entrance from the office and rented it out to a couple who then maintained the pool in exchange for cheap rent and scheduling rights to the pool.
Tiffany was my roommate (along with PammyLee, Pocohantas and Pocahantas' cousin, Steph), and her sister happened to be living in the pool apartment at the time. For several weeks she had promised we could come, and finally was able to get a Friday night free for us. She put our names on the calendar and gave Tiffany the key, as she was out of town that night.
It was a dark and stormy night (I swear I am not making this up), and freezing outside. As soon as we walked in the door at the law office, we knew something was wrong. We could hear a bunch of voices coming from the pool. We were so bugged. We'd had the pool scheduled for like two weeks and some spoiled lawyer-brats were using our pool time! We debated on staying or going, but righteous indignation won out.
Tiffany said that she just wanted to see what was going on before we started kicking people out, so we went into her sister's apartment and Tiffany walked up a short flight of stairs to the back pool entrance. She crept very quietly.
Twenty seconds later she came shooting back down the stairs like she had seen a ghost. "Naked," she said, rather breathlessly, "All naked. Probably 20 guys. All naked."
AAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!! That is when the giggling started; but of course, the question of kicking them out was answered. Being naked in the pool is like licking the sucker--man, you own it.
Steph, who had seen a bit more of the world than the rest of us, didn't buy into the "let's leave now" proposal. She'd come from Dixie College to the land of the frozen chosen without even a sweater. She had a bikini drawer, for crying out loud! Steph was not afraid of the melee up the stairs.
She walked right past us, and we saw her stand at the top of the stairs, hand on her hip, and we just knew she was giving the eyebrow as only Steph could. Oh, and she was a total babe.
About fifteen seconds after she planted her hot self on the top stair, the screaming began. And then the running. We heard a lot of swearing and at least 20 variations on the "Dude! It's a chick!" theme. Wild Steph, her hand on the hip and the eyebrow had cleared the room in less than a minute. She didn't say a word.
All of these naked guys were now holed up in the law office. She walked over the door, ripped it open and very sweetly asked who was hosting the party. A very sheepish looking individual, probably a college freshman, made his way through the crowd and she told him, in those same honeyed tones that WE had the pool reserved and they had about five minutes to be dressed and GONE before we started making some phone calls.
She flounced her lovely curly head back down to where we huddled, laughing our heads off at the bottom of the stairs. We waited five minutes, swept the last few out of the office, locked the doors and changed--one at a time, behind locked doors, thank you very much. No group nudity for us.
As if this is not all weird enough, we think that some of them actually came back and were looking in through the windows. Other than Steph, and maybe Pocahontas, none of us were girls that you would seriously scout out in their swimming suits. Especially if you had to climb a hedge to do it. In February. In the snow. So they were exhibitionists, desperate AND creepy. Still, if I was going to write a horror novel this would probably be a great start. At one point we thought we saw both hands and faces pushed against the glass poolhouse through the steam and condensation.
So fire, nudity . . . and, oh, yes, lightsabers. We had a Dos de Mayo party at Tabula Rasa and Jamin's house Saturday. She and I wanted to make homemade tamales and it is always fun to hang out with them. Between us, there are five boys: we watched a lightsaber fight that probably went on for a good hour--two if you count the Wii. My favorite is when Jedi yells, "Now in slow motion!" and everybody fights in slo-mo. The facials are awesome. When I asked Jedi the other night why he wasn't firing his dart gun back at me, he said, "Mom, my bullets won't defeat you! My moves will." Ah. I think his moves need a little bit of work. I probably hit him forty times.
So I guess my boys like to be naked, but maybe this momma likes violence.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Not For Everyone
I took my first subscription to The New Yorker for a class when I was in my second year of college. Each week we were required to read the magazine cover to cover, summarize the content of the major articles, create a vocabulary list of words we were unfamiliar with and write a 2-5 page response paper based on something from the publication. In addition, we were two turn in two short human interest essays throughout the quarter and our final was a long piece--our own TNY-style article. The class was rigorous. (Can you say hyperbole?)
As much as the content was invigorating, challenging and exciting, the best part about it was that I began a friendship with the professor. A year later I was part of an honor society that hosted a dinner for our "Top Profs." She was the one I selected, an invitation which cemented our friendship for good. We began corresponding to one another: hers was the first letter I received when I arrived at our mission office in Australia. Some years later, her children started an honors scholarship in her name (she is the second from the left below), and though I was unable to make it to the dinner honoring her, my essay was one that was read as she was introduced.
You couldn't ask for a better correspondent. She is interested and prompt. Her letters are always sincere, packed with meaning and provocative. We have grown close over the years; including many personal visits during the two years we lived in Logan, where she is a long-time resident. Plantboy was actually her gardener for several weeks last year. After learning so much about him through our letters, she was so delighted to finally meet him and he saw in a moment why my friendship with her has meant so much.
So why this long tribute-post today when I really owe my dear friend a letter? Recently my TNY subscription lapsed, a thing my prof always chides me for. This common link gives us much to discuss and analyze. Admittedly, there have been times I've renewed it more out of wanting to please her than my own real desire: the magazine comes to often for me to keep up with properly, is often offensive (at least in part), makes no apology for its pretensions, and is liberal enough to make even my hair stand on end at times. (When it came with my forwarded mail while I was living with my parents it was almost the equivalent of allowing pornography in the house, from my dad's perspective.)
Having said this, however, when my few weeks passed without an issue, I genuinely missed it. I missed its familiarity. I missed turning the pages when I take a bath. I missed its provocative way of making me take a hard look at the world. I missed its biographies of people who, for good or ill, shape the world we live in. I even missed its dense critiques of new Broadway shows that I'll never see but often wish to. I mostly missed that inner dialogue in my head that I carry on with my professor. Hers is the voice that reminds me to think before I form an opinion; to understand before I judge.
And then my renewal issue showed up yesterday and I spent a happy hour this afternoon drinking cold grape juice and reading, forgetting for a few moments that this week has been primarily composed of dishes and laundry. I have linked it here and everything is posted on-line. I like the print form (bathtub and bedtime reading), but if you have some time today, get off the blogs and read about conservative Christians working harder on making consensus in the political arena, a personal history about a Black girl growing up in a racially divided Pennsylvania, a biography of the man whose money is driving the rejection of a separate Palestinian state, the medical musings of Dr. Gwande, or a short story by the brilliant Alice Munro. Some weeks I peruse and recycle within a few minutes. However, this week's issue, in my mind, represents the best writing in American journalism today.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Who Says You Can't Go Home?
This is the title of a song that came out rather recently. It is a fairly jubliant song, I think they are contending that you CAN go home.
The problem sometimes is knowing where home is. I'm writing this because of something of Nemesis's recent posting. She is just saying that after a year in Cache Valley she is not really attached. I can see where she is coming from. It seems like everyone that Plantboy and I met in Texas couldn't believe we didn't want to stay there forever. We just never felt that way, but I saw more than a few bumper stickers proclaiming, "I wasn't born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could!"
So what makes a person love a place?
Because, unlike Nem, I love Cache Valley. I don't think I could ever live in Utah unless it was in the Valley. (For those of you unfamiliar with the area, in way northern Utah "The Valley" is Cache Valley, not Utah Valley.) I'm not sure why this is. I didn't grow up there, although my parents did. Many of my aunts and uncles and cousins are still in the area. But I don't think that is the real selling point either; there are many things about dealing with extended family that are difficult, although they have been a HUGE help to me in recent weeks, as they are to anyone in need.
I do know this. After 16 months of missionary work in Australia, I came back to a house my parents had only owned for a few months before I left into a ward with about three familiar faces. I was disoriented and confused and lonely. But when we drove through Sardine Canyon and came upon that view (there was less smog then) of the temple and the university in the center of all that beautiful snow just before dropping down into Wellsville, I finally felt home. And I knew that everything would be okay despite the fact that all my friends had graduated, and/or gotten married, and moved on.
To me, Logan is my first kiss. My first love. Tubing down the canal in the summer. Running the River Trail. Hiking to the Wind Caves. Getting caught by the UPS man while making out with Plantboy in the cooler at work. Passing notes during Evolution 560. Classes and professors I'll never forget. Roommates and neighbors who have become lifelong friends. It is where I met my husband. It is where I had my third baby. Canoeing on the Bear River. Cool summer nights watching movies outside with friends. Eating lunch out on the terrace behind the student center. Hockey and basketball games. Crushes. Being a True Aggie three times over. It is where I held three jobs I loved. It is Aggie Ice Cream. Mudding in the canyon just south of Paradise on that PERFECT day. The chair I sat in when the first real inkling of testimony hit me like a ton of bricks. Sledding down Old Main. Shopping for engagement rings. Wildflowers at Tony's Grove. Letters sent to a special address in Canyon Road nearly every month for the past 10 years. Rook and even, dare I say, poker games until four o'clock in the morning. The Old Hogi Yogi on Monday nights. Ultimate frisbee. Crying myself to sleep some nights over lost opportunities. Two fateful phonecalls before spring break of my freshman year. My endowment. My wedding.
As I look over the above list, I begin to realize what it is. This is not just a list of things I did in Logan, these are things that are a part of me. Memories so vivid and important they define me. Yes, I have made memories, wonderful memories, in other places. But my years in Logan were such a formative time that the place is inseperable from my sense of self. I never lived in Cache Valley until I was 18 years old, and I still feel like it is where I grew up.
I hope that each of you who reads this has a place like that. A place that feels like home even when you move so often you begin to wonder if you should just put everything on eBay and start over. No doubt, many of you will respond that, especially after you have kids, home just feels like wherever they are at. I will certainly not argue with that, but I think it is important to have a place that is special too.
So I guess, although my little family will be together in our cozy cottage, in many ways, I feel like I am really leaving home. Again.
The problem sometimes is knowing where home is. I'm writing this because of something of Nemesis's recent posting. She is just saying that after a year in Cache Valley she is not really attached. I can see where she is coming from. It seems like everyone that Plantboy and I met in Texas couldn't believe we didn't want to stay there forever. We just never felt that way, but I saw more than a few bumper stickers proclaiming, "I wasn't born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could!"
So what makes a person love a place?
Because, unlike Nem, I love Cache Valley. I don't think I could ever live in Utah unless it was in the Valley. (For those of you unfamiliar with the area, in way northern Utah "The Valley" is Cache Valley, not Utah Valley.) I'm not sure why this is. I didn't grow up there, although my parents did. Many of my aunts and uncles and cousins are still in the area. But I don't think that is the real selling point either; there are many things about dealing with extended family that are difficult, although they have been a HUGE help to me in recent weeks, as they are to anyone in need.
I do know this. After 16 months of missionary work in Australia, I came back to a house my parents had only owned for a few months before I left into a ward with about three familiar faces. I was disoriented and confused and lonely. But when we drove through Sardine Canyon and came upon that view (there was less smog then) of the temple and the university in the center of all that beautiful snow just before dropping down into Wellsville, I finally felt home. And I knew that everything would be okay despite the fact that all my friends had graduated, and/or gotten married, and moved on.
To me, Logan is my first kiss. My first love. Tubing down the canal in the summer. Running the River Trail. Hiking to the Wind Caves. Getting caught by the UPS man while making out with Plantboy in the cooler at work. Passing notes during Evolution 560. Classes and professors I'll never forget. Roommates and neighbors who have become lifelong friends. It is where I met my husband. It is where I had my third baby. Canoeing on the Bear River. Cool summer nights watching movies outside with friends. Eating lunch out on the terrace behind the student center. Hockey and basketball games. Crushes. Being a True Aggie three times over. It is where I held three jobs I loved. It is Aggie Ice Cream. Mudding in the canyon just south of Paradise on that PERFECT day. The chair I sat in when the first real inkling of testimony hit me like a ton of bricks. Sledding down Old Main. Shopping for engagement rings. Wildflowers at Tony's Grove. Letters sent to a special address in Canyon Road nearly every month for the past 10 years. Rook and even, dare I say, poker games until four o'clock in the morning. The Old Hogi Yogi on Monday nights. Ultimate frisbee. Crying myself to sleep some nights over lost opportunities. Two fateful phonecalls before spring break of my freshman year. My endowment. My wedding.
As I look over the above list, I begin to realize what it is. This is not just a list of things I did in Logan, these are things that are a part of me. Memories so vivid and important they define me. Yes, I have made memories, wonderful memories, in other places. But my years in Logan were such a formative time that the place is inseperable from my sense of self. I never lived in Cache Valley until I was 18 years old, and I still feel like it is where I grew up.
I hope that each of you who reads this has a place like that. A place that feels like home even when you move so often you begin to wonder if you should just put everything on eBay and start over. No doubt, many of you will respond that, especially after you have kids, home just feels like wherever they are at. I will certainly not argue with that, but I think it is important to have a place that is special too.
So I guess, although my little family will be together in our cozy cottage, in many ways, I feel like I am really leaving home. Again.
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