To Restrain Or Not...

As I was digging through a box of Christmas lights, that I had brought down from the attic, I found this Elmo toddler leash. I can make a pretty good guess as to how it landed in there. Hide it so no one knows, not even me, that we own one.

I did not pay much mind to it, I thought our days of using one were over. We bought it for our trip through the Alaska's inside passage on three different Alaska Ferries. Note, in the picture you can see the one-and-a-half year old wearing the harness, the leash is taut; also note the railing of the ferry. What I imagine the builders of the ferry thinking when they put this railing in. "Well....if parents bring their toddlers on board they had better pay attention to what they are doing...cause we aren't putting railings in that would keep a toddler from mindlessly climbing through and falling into the icy waters below."
I argued against the harness until I saw that it was necessary.

Upon seeing the newly uncovered harness, DW (dear wife), began speculation on how we could use it on Charlie.
Ugh not again; we are not going on any ferry trips soon, I thought.
"We have no use for it." I said.
"Think about the holiday market." she countered. "All those people, lots of breakable merchandise; he could get lost."
I thought about it.

My first thought "If other people are as judgmental as I am.... I could not take all those disapproving looks"

Of course other peoples opinions don't matter as much as the safety of your child. However, more importantly, the "safety" of my child does not matter as much as my parenting philosophy, which, prohibits the use of these restraints.......any reasonable person can see that.......right?

I bolstered my argument, when I pointed at that Chaz would render the thing useless, by sitting down and crying because he can't move around and would have to be picked up anyway. So, why bother?

DW put it on him anyway, and Chaz thought it was pretty funny, until he tried to run into the kitchen, DW was keeping him from doing so. I unclasped the leash and Chaz ran away laughing.

"Be free child be free."

Opinion in favor of Child Harness and leashes.

Here is another pic of me, my daughter and my mom on a ferry in Alaska's inside passage.

Charlie Speaks

One of the things that is great about watching a child grow up is their language acquisition. Chaz, these days, has an ever expanding vocabulary; he shows preference: I like this, I don't like this.

On our recent trip to my homeland (the glorious, if not slightly maligned, Salt Lake Valley) Chaz showed his preference for things in several ways. When we arrived at the airport in Portland he took one look at the place and said "I don't like this house." I did not try to explain the difference between a house and an airport, I know he would not care, obviously he knows a house is a building, and an airport is a building he does not like.

After being in the air for an hour....or so, and we landed in Boise (I'M GOIN' TO BOISE........) Chaz announced that he was done. "I'm done" he said, he said it several times just so everyone would know. We stayed on the plane because it was SLC that we were headed for but not Boise.

The next morning, at my sisters house, he woke up and looked out the glass door at my sisters snow covered back yard and said "uh oh." The kid has seen snow ,but it was such a long time ago, I am sure that it is too distant a memory for him to know that it is cold and wet. It is hard for me to guess what he thought, obviously, he thought that the snow is wrong.

On our trip back to Portland Chaz showed his distaste for airplanes by saying " I don't like this Helicopter" Helicopter sounded more like helliopter, it took me a minute to decipher what he said. Why he identified it as helicopter instead of an airplane I will never guess, it's not as if we see many more of them than we do of airplanes.

My Grandfather passed away last Thursday (November 29th). My wife had stayed home to help with a sick child when I heard the news. We went from quiet morning to trying to pull off a last minute trip to Salt Lake City.

I am not a really stoic person. I am not uncomfortable about crying but, if there is stuff to be done, I will do it, even if I have tears in my eyes. I will mow the lawn and sob instead of sit on the couch and sob. So, there I was on Thursday making plans to travel, taking care of kids, wife, house, cats, chickens and trying to manage a flood of emotions, and memories of my Grandfather.

One of the thoughts I had, that I became fixated on, was something that I am sure other exmormons might be able to relate to; how to go to an L.D.S. funeral and pay tribute to a beloved relative without getting all hung up on how you disagree with all the dogma.

It was a real concern, I pictured myself sitting there in the chapel listening to one of my relatives talk about the afterlife while I cringe. Over the next couple of days I convinced myself that I could sit there in that pew without cringing.

This was my Grandfather after all. If he were in my position how would he have dealt with it? He would put aside his prejudices and just do it, and he would do it while being kind to everyone around him. I always felt valued by him, regardless of how freaky I looked when I was a teenager. Sure, he made comments about my ripped black jeans and my spiky hair, but he betrayed his true feelings by the hug he always gave me and the way he would smile when I would show up at family gatherings; gatherings I often did not want to be at because of the awkwardness.

Naturally, this awkwardness increased for me when I left the Mormon church. I know that it was disappointing for him to not see his first Grandson go a mission, even then, he did not let on how disappointing it was. If I could give him that satisfaction in return for the respect and love he that he has shown me and my wife and kids over the years I would put aside my disbelief and go just for him.

What I did for him, instead, was bring my family to Salt Lake for his memorial. And at the funeral, when prayers were offered I bowed my head and listened, when hymns were sung, I sang; when my mom and two uncles talked about seeing him in the heaven, I did not engage in an imaginary debate, with them about whether heaven is a pretend place or a real place.

Not only did this exercise make it easier to be at the funeral but it made it easier for me to talk to my relatives no matter how brief the exchange was.

It feels like a small token; somehow too me just being civil with my aunt, uncle's and cousins does not seem like enough. We all have lives of course, for more than one of us, those lives are vastly different and only intersect when someone passes away. Frankly, I do wish it were not like that, I would not mind having relationships with them that are as easy as they were when we were all kids playing in the woods on a camping trip.

And wouldn't it be a fitting memorial to a grandfather who cared about his grand kids to have them all talking to each other?

Goodbye Grandpa, I miss you.

Alfred Carl Nielsen
Alfred Carl Nielsen 1917 ~ 2007 Alfred Carl Nielsen passed away on November 29, 2007 in Salt Lake City, Utah at the age of 90.He was born on November 9, 1917 in Castle Dale, Utah to Alfred C. Nielsen and Mabel Ruth Steele. He married Lucy M. Springer on March 13, 1945 and was later sealed in the Salt Lake Temple on November 15, 1945. He served in the Pacific in the Navy during World War II. He then joined the Army Air Corps later the Air Force and served in the Korean War. He retired from the Air Force on June 1, 1965. Alfred was active in the LDS church. He served a mission in California and later with his wife in England. He served in numerous callings including branch presidencies and bishoprics, Temple Square Host, the Church History Museum, and as an ordinance worker in the Salt Lake Temple. He was always willing to help those in need. Alfred is survived by his wife of 62 years, Lucy M. Springer, children: A. Carl (Elizabeth), Marion Wilson, Larry (Marsha), Sheryl (Marc) Atkinson, Bryon (Julie), Robert (Lisa); sister, Ella Hoskins, 27 grandchildren and 35 great grandchildren. He is preceded in death by his parents and two brothers, Grant and Ross. Services will be held on Monday, Dec. 3, 2007 at 12 noon at the Brickyard Ward, 1111 E. Charlton (2800 So.), Salt Lake City, Utah. The family will receive friends on Sunday, Dec. 2, 2007 from 6-8 p.m. at Wasatch Lawn Mortuary, 3401 S. Highland Drive, Salt Lake City, Utah and before the services from 10:30-11:45 a.m. Interment will be held at Wasatch Lawn Memorial Park.

Happy Thanksgiving...

I always feel a little guilty for the days leading up to Thanksgiving. We eat pretty well at our house, I don't mean steak and potatoes well, but we are far from starving.
Whenever my daughter tells me that she is starving, I tell her that she does not know what that word means, and probably will never experience starvation.

Our average dinner consists of a salad, some sort of stir-fry with lots of veggies and rice or potatoes, rice and a variety of beans. Sometimes I make an enchilada type dish or I will buy a roasted chicken for dinner.

Usually, there is enough left over for the adults to have a small portion of seconds, and my wife to take some for lunch the next day. Portions are not piles of food but small, probably a quarter of what you might get at a place like Applebees.

I felt the guilt start to come on when I did my first Thanksgiving shopping trip. My shopping cart was already pretty full when I went to look at the turkeys. The ten and sixteen pounders looked too small, I grabbed a 23 pound one and had to shuffle stuff around in order to get it in the cart.

It was then that I realized that I had enough food to feed a rather large family used to eating only rice for dinner. It was even more than enough for us; we were, by the way, only entertaining two other people.

The guilt stems from the idea that, normally I have enough, but on Thanksgiving it turns to more than enough. Is this a way for me to give thanks? To sit and over-eat while I know that there are thousands of people who can't conceive of what I eat on an average day. That I am lucky enough to not have to suffer in the way that the malnourished suffer?

I will feel grateful, when I will realize, that I have not had to grocery shop for a week and a half because of all the leftover turkey.

Anyone who has read this blog knows that I am not in the least judgmental.....so,

I read an article written by a relatively new Stay at home dad, former New York Times foreign correspondent Charlie Leduff

His experiences as a Stay At Home Dad are pretty typical, turned away at the Yoga studio, (did not happen to me) hanging out with the nannies at the playground. (I once went to a playground, with the daughter, where the only person who would carry on a conversation with me was a cute, young, French au pair.)

I will stop myself before I fall into a pit of Hyperbole about how bad the social life of a SAHD is. (really bad acronym if you asked me) It really is not that bad.
The best part of the article, is the rebuttle from Judith Warner on her domestic disturbances blog.....It gets even better, The comments
were way better than her view that parents are engaged in some type of warfare.

The comment that I would like to comment on is this one:

I was a stay-at-home Dad, (ie S.A.D.) for 6 months. My wife, along with the wife of a good friend, had babies about the same time, and my friend and I decided we would pal around NYC taking care of our kids since we both have freelancing professions, and the wives have 9-to-5s.
We were not cut out for it. After 6 months, we both sprung for nannies, and I can tell you that the sound of the nanny arriving at 8am is like hearing Mozart playing live in my living room.
Please forgive the sexism, but changing diapers, making bottles, cleaning up spitup, bundling up baby, putting them to sleep, soothing their cries for 10-12 hours a day is just not a man’s work. At least not for this man. We began to resent our kids and our wives.
Nothing ever made us want to work harder than having kids - to work at our chosen professions, to provide. Every diaper became another 5 minues away from what we were supposed to be doing with our lives. A word of warning to potential S.A.D.s - you may not be cut out for it.

— Posted by UseProtection

Of course, I agree with this guy, some are just not cut out for parenting. Some people can't handle life outside of the everyday ego gratification they got from their high paying jobs. You start taking care of kids, you get judged for not being at work and you don't get a paycheck or a pat on the back for all your hard work. (This is the extreme judgmental side of me.)

His mistake is assuming that one can be cut out for parenting....No one is cut out for parenting....It may come easier for some, but it is something you have to work at and nothing can really prepare you for it.

Dude, you just gave up to early the first six months are the hardest.

Kid Story

The four-year-old daughter loves dance, so much, that for the past couple of years we have had her in several dance classes. Her appetite for dance is insatiable. Her little brother has tagged along to all of her classes and, also wants to dance .

He is not nearly as coordinated or graceful as the the three and four year olds in his sisters class, but has at least as much passion. His dancing consists of running around in a circle and occasionally a simulated leap. (As much of a leap as a toddler can manage) He ends up on the floor a lot, being almost two falling down is de rigueur, it does not phase him in the least.

The few times which he has successfully invaded his sisters class, and the dance teacher allows him to stay, the girls generally don't mind him but they often just think he is so cute, they end up too distracted to keep dancing.

Maybe he can take this lesson into his teenage years; girls love a guy who really wants to know ballet.

Two Good Wheels

One of the reasons I wanted to move to Eugene was it's bike ability. Eugene is a relativley small city, it is easy to get around on a bike, plus there are several designated bike routes. My goal has been to use the bike instead of the car whenever I can to run errands. So far, we have been doing pretty well.

This goal is not a recent goal for me, it is something I have been thinking about for years. When I was a kid, pre-drivers lisence I got around either by foot or bicycle all the time. Of course when I turned sixteen it was all about cars too me. I lived in a suburb and for fun me and my friends would go to Salt Lake City. When I finally moved there I was still in "car mode;" I would drive places that were only a five or ten minute walk away.

I would return home feeling stressed; I would sulk into my apartment with my groceries and listen to Ministry. I would sit there in my black clothes and think about how great it was that I did not have to drive so far to get to my favorite dance club.

Then one day, I realized that I did not have to drive. I walked to the store, it was liberating. I did not have to find parking, I didn't have sit there and wait to turn left. (these were all very stressful things for me. I was a nervous driver. I used to get really upset that other people thought that they could drive in front of , behind and to the side of me; or drive at all while I was using the road.) None of that concerned me while I walked.

When I arrived home with my bag of groceries I felt so good, I did not want to sulk inside with my Ministry tape (yes, that was before cd's were all the rage and way before mp3's) Soon enough, if it was close, I walked to my destination. Eventually I rode my bike to destinations that were further away.
One of the first things that I noticed was that distances were not nearly as far as I had originally thought and I got to know the city a lot better.

For two or three years I did not even own a car. When I eventually did buy another car I was already used to getting places on foot so, I only used the car for long trips. Like going to San Francisco or New York.....heheh....or more interesting and fun places like Canyonlands National park and Yellowstone.

Of all the reasons I chose to, and choose to, get around by bike the environmental reasons are minuscule. (If I were really hard core, I would not even use a bike, the metal and rubber had to come from somewhere and will eventually end up in a landfill)

It really is about ease and pleasure for me. Plus it is about the only exercise I get on a regular basis

Mike: Desert Explorer

My Brother -in- law lives in Moab Utah where he is able to go out and explore. I am fairly jealous. He has told me several times that he would take me out on one of his trips; I will take him up on that someday.

This is the text of an email he sent; there is a link at the bottom for his Flickr page.

I just got back from a great journey out into the San Rafael Desert; meeting with Chris Schiller, who was just coming up from Natural Bridges and a visit with Dave and Peggy, and (briefly) Mike Painter.

We met at the little kiosk where the dirt road splits to either Hans Flat and the Maze, or north toward Horseshoe Canyon and Green River, both arriving within ten minutes of each other--not bad given the distance/terrain. The dirt road was generally in decent shape, but got a bit more rugged as we passed the Horseshoe Canyon turnoff, following alongside of a wash on the sage plains with little sign of the canyons that cut deeply into the seemingly sandy desert.

We located our turn-off, parking the vehicles for our trek into Moonshine Canyon, as suggested by Chris a little while ago, one that I hadn't heard of before (and then saw a picture taken by Aaron Ralston at his talk last week of this same canyon). The weather couldn't have been better for a slot canyon hike--zero clouds and a reasonably cool day (there was frost on the windshield when I left Moab), the temps getting to maybe the mid-seventies. Perfect.

We noted another vehicle down the side road a bit, hard to believe, but it looked like someone else had the same destination. Oh well.

We simply headed overland until we came to an opportune drainage, which in turn led us right into the canyon that we sought--which at this point was a medium sized wash with walls of thin rock strata layers.

We indeed located two pairs of fresh footprints in the sand.

The wash quickly started to go deeper, usually by the big steps of pour-offs, many of which included some pretty massive chokestones to get over and down from. The plunge pools below started dry, but as we got further into this deepening gorge, they got slick first, then had over-the-boot deep water, making the going with dry feet a challenge (we both maintained dry socks!).

We stopped for a snack, and poked around a little side canyon; it didn't go very far until each of it's two branches became vertical. Soon after resuming our journey, Chris noted that the pair of prints we had been following were gone. Strange--neither of us noticed any "escape" out of the deep canyon, and we didn't pass anyone.

The narrows run out after you pass under an old sheepherders bridge--I doubt highly that I'd try to cross it myself. We followed for another hour maybe, meandering in a beautiful scoured drainage lined by the constantly changing character of the sandstone walls--sometimes smooth and curving, with huge water streaks running down the vertical walls, sometimes highly textured by strata or water and wind. Awesome.

After debating for a second, we decided we needed to head back up the canyon to get back to the vehicles before dark. It was a hoot climbing back up and over all the obstacles we came down, stemming over the narrow canyon by wedging ourselves between the two walls and shimmying our way along. We once again noticed the two sets of tracks that didn't belong to us--still no sign of where the owners went, or how they got out of the canyon.

We had no trouble finding our way back to the vehicles and a couple of almost cold beers--and noticed the other car down the road was gone. Weird. Chris made a great red bean, rice, sausage and salad dinner, and we chilled out until we had our fill of shooting stars and the getting-cold air.

We woke this morning to a colorful sunrise, and absolute silence.

We went our separate ways after some more chatter, including the idea of checking out sites for AFXII--possibly near Goblin Valley/Little Wildhorse Canyon--Chris might have more to say later.

The ride home was great, a slow journey over the San Rafael River and on to Green River, then the frontage "road" along the freeway to Clay Hills, finally hitting the pavement by the Moab airport, only fifteen miles from home. I even got to meet Collette for lunch before going home and getting mauled by the dogs--who would have never made it through the obstacles of the surprisingly pretty slot canyon.

some pix can be found:

Pictures

MM

Us and Them

After spending the last ten years sort of practicing meditation I finally decided to become more serious and start attending services at a Zen temple. So far, I have been happy with the choice I made.

There have been times ,though, that I wonder why it is so important to me to belong to a religious community and to even explore "spirituality" ( I really don't like using this term; mainly because it seems to be so vague. What the heck is spirit any way and what do all these various practices have to do with it.)

I always just put it up to my L.D.S upbringing. I was so concerned for so long that I adhere to all of the commandments, directions and prophets; that even after leaving the L.D.S. church it was inevitable that I continue to want to perfect myself. Figuring out what God is and what God wants seemed to be the way to go in order not to go to Hell.

Recently, I decided to take the next step in Zen and commit myself to it as full-time practice. I feel that I have done this already, now I am making it official. What is odd for me is, now, in my little un-enlightened lizard brain, I have recognized the us and them mentality. I had this before, it just was not as prevalent. The challenge of course, and the Buddhists emphasize this, is to take on the path and learn that there is only us.

The L.D.S. church seems to emphasize that there is an us and there is a them and we must work to make the them an us. Not being much of a salesman, this mentality made me pretty uncomfortable, so much so, that when it came time for me to put my Missionary papers in, I split.

I learned over the years, or told myself, that everyone is OK how they are and it is totally up to the individual how they conduct themselves. I still have this lingering thought though, that if everyone wants to be happy they should all become Buddhists.

It Is The Carter Family's Fault.

I blame the Carter family.

When my mother- in- law visited a couple of months ago she observed how I get Chas to take his naps. I sit in our recliner, rock him back and forth and sing to him from Rise Up Singing; a collection of popular and folk songs.

Up to this point, the only people who were privileged to hear my voice have been my wife and kids; None of them have complained about my singing. ( I am really not too bad.)

Before I started, my mil stated that I could not really carry a tune. My mil and I get along so well that I was not a bit bothered by the comment and I began singing Sound Of Silence (Simon and Garfunkel) . I mean it's folk music right how can I really mess that up?

Well, OK, if I were singing say...some of the songs the Carter family made famous you could not say I was messing it up. They sang the way they would sing in church, which is about my level of ability. They may have been great singers in their time but just about everyone, regardless of skill sang. On the other hand, Simon and Garfunkel's music is much more refined, to sing one of their songs even sort of well, takes practice.

So my mil has a point, I can't carry a tune but compared to whom. I listen to music a lot and I sing along, loudly, to whatever is playing and I know the words to many of the songs. Most of the singers I listen to have much stronger vocal ability than me, of course being the pros that they are, probably have to practice and some probably have access to voice enhancers.

What do I blame the Carter Family for? I blame them for becoming radio stars and recording artists. Granted back when they were playing the recording industry was very different. I am only guessing that the general public new the songs the Carters were performing and also sang their own variations at home and at church.

The difference between the Carter Family and the general public though, was that the Carters were being paid for what they did so, were able to refine their style. They made it possible for other aspiring musicians to become professionals and of course every new generation of musician became better and better so that eventually their musical abilities are much more refined than their audiences abilities.

Now days, many of us are mere consumers of music and would not even try to make it ourselves. Why bother, we would never be as good as a lot of artists who probably spend years training their voices, before they ever record. I don't think the Carters had vocal coaches and they would resent the blame I am resting on their heads. If they had not made that first recording we all might still be singing.

Fall Is Here .....and no where else

Yesterday we had a Fall day.
The day started out cool and cloudy and despite our plans to stay home we ended up driving around on Forest service roads.

We started out by going to a local theme farm where three Alpaca breeder's had their Alpacas on display. After Charlie tried to climb into the Alpaca pens several times we took the kids to the farms playstructure. Upon leaving the farm we decided to find a restaurant but ended up driving into the woods.

We did not really know where the road would take us (other than up into the hills and the clearcuts), We did not have cell phones and we were low on gas.

Even though I assured my wife that we would be fine she remained unconvinced and hungry.

Sadly nothing exciting happened; we did not get shot at, run out of gas or get taken hostage by hillbillies; Charlie did fall asleep. We made it home in one piece just in time for it to start raining. We had our first fire of the cold, wet season.

Burma

I am saddened today about the actions of Burma's (Myanmar) military junta.

I watched the news with hope that the Buddhist monk's protest would continue but I feared that the military would......well....act like a military and crack down.

The monks, I am sure, knew what they would face by standing up to the government but protested anyway.


According to most reports the only way for the military to stop the monks was to actually detain them at their temples.

All I can do is hope that in the end few lives are lost and the people of Burma will have their democratically elected government instead of what they have now.

"Every day we do things, we are things that have to do with peace. If we are aware of our life..., our way of looking at things, we will know how to make peace right in the moment, we are alive." - Thich Nhat Hahn

More news of Burma

Could I Have An Interpreter Please

I was busy with some child, household or computer thing the other day; when Charlie comes in and starts emphatically clapping his hands and rubbing his belly. The belly rub, in our house, is the universally accepted sign for "please."

But the clapping I did not recognize, fortunately I have an in house sign language interpreter.

"Ruthie! Ruthie please come in."

Ruthie ran in all out of breathe.

"Yes Daddeee"

"would you please tell me what Charlie wants?"

Charlie did the hand thing again this time for his sister.

"He wants a tortilla with cheese"

After producing the tortilla with cheese it was clear that it was what Chas wanted. He walked to the table smiling.

I just know that, without the sign language interpreter, we would have had a crises of monumental order. " All I wanted was a cheese tortilla, you wouldn't give it to me and now I am in an institution."

A Trip To Deseret

My Friends Sara and Colin, along with their two lovely children, are on an expedition to the Land Of My Birth .


I have not heard much form them yet but she did post a quiz on her blog.

It is obvious from a couple of her questions that they took some of my sight seeing advice. Also it sounds like Park City is actually large enough now to be part of greater Los Angeles.

Missed Connection

I saw you in my rear view mirror as I headed west on I-80. Your buildings, towered over by the mountains, glimmered in the cloudless summer morning heat. You were beautiful and inviting but still, I made up my mind to leave.

I grew up with you; supported by your church taught by your schools. I found calm in your mountains and parks. Even when I discarded your church I found bars and coffee shops and other ways of finding meaning; you offered much. I had to leave, you did not seem to mind.

It's amazing how so much can change in just a few years but remain the same. I thought about you a lot, it was hard living where I decided to live and, at times, I wanted desperately to come back. I missed the clean streets, the snow, being in the mountains. Would you have me? Would I belong? Or would it just be too awkward? I am too different, it seems shallow to say, but your beer is ......well..... just too weak.

Now, I am living in another completely different town and... I don't really want you anymore. I miss your dry climate during our gray winter days but I would rather just visit. You probably already know that I am not coming back and maybe you don't miss me either. Maybe we can be friends and I could come for a visit once in a while.

Another Summer Gone

Yesterday, Chas (the one year old) and I saw Kyle (the eleven year old) off at the Portland airport. The two-and-a-half hour drive gives us plenty of time to talk and rehash all of our issues.

Kyle spent some of the time telling me that he did not want to go back to his moms, which is hard for me to hear because I would rather have him here.

This evil side of me (believe me, the evil side is fairly significant.) likes to hear that he does not really want to spend any time with his mom; this is something he told me frequently this summer.

He explained to me that the goals he has for himself are not in sync with what his mom wants for him (my words not his), so she chooses to down play and ignore them.

I am not surprised by this; she seems to be of the ilk that wants her child to like what she likes and do what she wants him to do.

It is a dilemma for me, when I hear him confirming what I already feared I want to swoop in and just take him away from her.
On the other hand I think that this transition thing is stressful and he is just expressing it. Going from house to house was much less stressful for him when we were doing it every week. The change was less drastic. Now, with half of his family living so far away, the change is huge. It is more like a visit; we don't refer to it that way of course, (he has his own room and some of his stuff is here.) but it can't be denied that being here for less than three months is more like vacation than just plain life.

Frankly, I miss just having him around

Let's Call Burning Man, Disneyland

I say let him burn!

I find it ironic, that at the festival where thousands of people go, so that they can be spontaneous and not quite so boring; this burning man inmate gets convicted and fined for being spontaneous and not quite so boring.

Wayne the quasi-adult

At the age of 36 I still am not completely assured that I am an adult. (Does anyone else have this feeling? ) Aside from being old enough to legally buy beer and pornography; what do we do that gives us adult status?

Recently, I took Kyle on a canoe trip with the Boy Scout troop he joined. We paddled down the Willamette River about fifty-miles in three days. The difference between the boys (most of them elven-years-old) and the adults was obvious, we (the adults) were pretty intent on paddling safely along without trouble; the boys wanted to be in the water.

One break we took on the first day, the boys found some fast moving water and with their PDF's still on, jumped in, and let the current carry them down; myself and one other adult were the only ones to jump in too. The other adult was a mom.

The other men busied themselves with looking at the route we were taking and discussing the amount of time it would take for us to get where we needed to be before nightfall; none of them took the plunge into the river. (maybe it was the three eyed fish)

As I over-analyzed this, the feeling that I am not grown up and serious enough came up. The fact, also, that I was the only adult- male in the water made me question my manliness.

heh---yer a stay at home dad......

Yes, even renegades, such as my self, question and worry about fitting neatly into gender and age related roles.

One aspect of Adulthood, that I am sure of, is the ability to think of the well being of others before yourself. Becoming a parent often forces those of us who have not reached that ability to do that. The conclusion I came to was: I had to jump into the river, so I could make sure it was safe and so the boys could see that adults could appreciate the same type of fun.

Why I left Mormonism

I admit it, I am sure this will clear everything up once and for all why I am no longer L.D.S. (Latter Day Saint). It was "Plan 10 From Outer Space" that really did it.

If you have never seen it even this review won't really explain it, so here is a link to IMDB
Note: read the comments.

It was plan 10 that really illustrated to me how silly Mormonism is (just writing this makes me squirm). The belief that god lives on a planet called Kolob is a belief that many mainstream "Saints" might not be aware of. Sure, even when I considered myself a faithful saint I thought this Idea of Kolob was a little strange, like something out of a Star Trek movie.

After seeing this very campy, yet funny in a off-kilter sort of way, Science Fiction take on some of the odd Mormon beliefs. I realized how much some of my beliefs were off kilter, funny and science fictiony things. And could I, this cynical, Urbane, kid who wears black, is very cool oh so serious and not nerdy(I did not play dungeon and dragons, am not an out of the closet Trekkie) in anyway, really hold religious beliefs that seem strangely like Lord of the Rings and the old Battle Star Galactica. The answer is no.

As is predicted by many a True believer in the Mormon Church once you harbor the first doubt it is impossible to turn back; this did happen with me. The further you get away from the church, the more doubts you harbor, eventually it becomes impossible to go back.

I started looking for a religion I could take seriously. I read Buddha's first noble truth: "Life is suffering." Whoever said that was serious, I remember thinking. They even wear black to worship in. According to my standards that meant that they were not joking around.

Boy, was I wrong.

(Those Monks are Tibetan; I think they may laugh more than Zen monks. )

Before and After

So, the other day I was lurking around the Recovery From Mormonism discussion board when I came across a post from someone who is in the midst of leaving the L.D.S church. His question was without the church what keeps us going everyday. Everyone responded differently, naturally. I gave him my list of random things that keeps me going Gardening was one of them.

I am not "the gardener" in our house, that title belongs to my wife. I am the grunt; I do what she asks plus other things that are obviously needed; like pulling weeds, getting rid of Ivy, and trimming our little forest.

One of our main reasons for having a garden is for the food. We grow and preserve what ever we can, I try to limit what I cook to what is available out there and our reasons go way beyond "just becuase we can." All of our reasons fall into these categories Economics, social, ecological, and environmental some may make sense to others for example in the long run it is cheaper for us to grow our own food. We have our beleifs about why we grow our food and those beleifs keep us going even if they are just fiction, besides the end result is that we have food on our table and that is the most important and concrete.