Guest Post by my pal, Barb "My Institute Graduation Speech :)"

In my city, we have a wonderful building for the Institute of Religion near a local University. When I first started attending Institute here before we had our own building. We met at rooms at the Student Center on campus. The classes were very small in those days and we often sat in comfortable sofa chairs or around a board table.

I was invited to Institute by the same friend who introduced me to the LDS Church. I already had a testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel, but I do not think I really knew about temples or Living Prophets at this point. I think it was a month or more before I had my first discussion with the Missionaries though I was so anxious for them to arrange them for me much sooner. There I sat in those early days in my sponge like state. I was so impressed by my Instructor and his ability to make sense out of chapters of the Old Testament that were so dry that I daydreamed when reading them.

I remember the excitement when we were trying to push for enough membership to get our building. The building was very large for our needs as it used to be a Church. The basement was set up with a pool table, ping pong tables, and that game where the wooden statue hit a ball through a goal etc. There was also a kitchen area and we had a lot of snacks with the honor system in those days of leaving cash in the little bowel or at least an I.O.U. until you could pay.

My instructor was always willing to drop his reading preparations to talk to me when I was in a talkative state or had concerns. It is hard to summarize years of lessons. What I do know is that in some areas, I had more knowledge than companions who were raised in active families.

What was most critical, was his relentless emphasis on making and keeping covenants. I knew that the Gospel was serious. I am not sure that I would have the roots without his explicit instruction. These teachings may have gone over my head in other settings.

In all, Institute was a great place to meet with people for class or to hang out among those who had like standards. When the day came for my long awaited graduation, I was surprised to learn that I would not be speaking. I had gone to so many graduations and had often envisioned myself on that day summing up my experience. I was asked to give a prayer.

This was a case of feeling a little slighted on my part. Even years later, I sometimes get a little mad when I think about although I don't think I am generally a petty person. Then, I remind myself that hardly anyone was even there for the talks as most did not arrive until the dinner afterwards. I guess it would have been more for me. A right of passage as you will. But I think my thinking is much more synthesized now to know how formative this experience was to me. So this is my belated talk. I am an Institute graduate!

A Nugget of Wisdom, suitable for blogging

I always read the Ensign cover to cover, but not the month I get it. I listen to most of conference and then read the talks I missed. I'm behind.

But last night I read this astounding bit of wisdom and thought it would work in the blogging world, so I want to share it:

(Instruments of the Lord's Peace, by Robert S. Wood)

"I recall that as a graduate student I wrote a critique of an important political philosopher. It was clear that I disagreed with him. My professor told me that my paper was good, but not good enough. Before you launch into your criticism, she said, you must first present the strongest case for the position you are opposing, one that the philosopher himself could accept."

"I redid the paper. I still had important differences with the philosopher, but I understood him better, and I saw the strengths and virtues, as well as limitations of his belief."

I think this is good advice for all bloggers. I'm going to try it next time I am mad at someone on the blog.

I'll be gone for a week starting Friday, plus I have to get ready, so won't be blogging for awhile. So long suckers, eat your hearts out. I'll be in Yellowstone.

An interesting link (the kid can write)

We have a few kids who've been columnists at the paper, some have left for missions and not returned. One actually ran for office in St. George last year. I would've voted for him in a New York minute.

This was the column this morning. I'm not sure I agree with this young man, but he's light years ahead of me in intellect and maturity and makes an interesting premise.

http://www.thespectrum.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060822/OPINION02/608220329/1014/OPINION

I hope I did that right.

Playing with Cathy's head

We got a new Relief Society president in our ward. It's the across the street neighbor and a dear friend.

I've taken some interest in this process since we were told we would be released in June. I'm the visiting teaching superviser, but I loathe this calling and was just putting in my time, enduring till June.

June came. And went. I was bellyaching to beat the band. What was up with this?

July came. And I thought, "oh, crap, what if I like the new Relief Society president and she needs me?" So I told the bishop I'd hang in there, but I'd rather be released.

August 1 came. No new president. I'm extremely curious by this point why we're not released yet (heck, everybody was). I'd picked out my president back in June. It was Cathy across the street, but she swore up and down she wasn't it.

So I called a few other ladies. This is what I said, "well, I'm re-arranging the whole visiting teaching any way how I want and making a big mess of it. What do you think of that?" They all said, "that's okay with us, Anne." Nada. Zip. Zero. This person was the biggest secret west of the Mississippi.

Finally I'm told she'd been called. It would be a few weeks. The old president, also a good friend, told me she'd told the new president I'd stay on. I said, "why did you do that?"

"Anne, you like her."

"How do you know that? You thought I could keep a secret. You clearly don't know me."

And I stewed. Because how could I say, "Oh, I changed my mind. I want to be released." Since this person thought I liked her.

Cathy had a good time with me talking to her. "I'm in trouble. Because how can I gracefully quit now if I don't like her? How could they tell her that?"

Then a little bird told me my friend Cathy is the best secret keeper in the ward and the new Relief Society president. What fun she must have been having.

Hmmm.....sometimes I can keep a straight face. I went over and said, "Cathy, I have to change you. I have to take these two ladies and give you these two. I'm doing it tomorrow before the new president gets in Sunday. I'm making a bunch of changes the way I want it so she can't change it when she gets in." I discussed specific ladies. She said, "what if the new president doesn't want that?"

I said, "oh, screw her. she can fire me." Her son, the father of three kids, was sitting there. He laughed at me and said, "who's the new Relief Society president?"

Me and Cathy said, "we don't know."

Then she followed me out to the door saying, "Now, you might want to think about those changes." She knows I'm emotional and impulsive and I was geniunely worried about some of these ladies.

I said, "no, there's no time." Then I said, "You know what else me and Kim are going to do? Trade callings. She thinks this calling would be okay and I want hers bad (compassionate service). The new president won't know the difference, we'll just tell her they were mixed up and we'll trade callings."

She said, "you can't do that."

I said, "oh, sure I can, I've discovered you can do pretty much what you want as long as you pay your tithing and go to church on Sunday. Besides, who cares? Nobody else wants these callings."

Well, I probably overplayed my hand. But she sure didn't. She can keep her mouth shut. What an admirable quality. The only way I can keep my mouth shut is if I get my voice box removed. Which then I would be slapping people.

This n That'

I've been ill and haven't had much energy for blogging. Plus it's late summer and I hate summer. It's hot and noisy and smothery. So I lay around all day and try to endure. Is that lie around? Ly around? Whatever.

I'm reading Levi Peterson's autobiography slowly. He's incredibly honest and I find that delightful. I just read that he thought he might be gay. I find the thought process so funny, "hmm...maybe I am gay after all. Well, that would be a relief." Then he talks about how much he loves and lusts after his wife.

I wondered if all men wonder if they're gay. I don't think women wonder about that. We love each other without it being in the least bit sexual. Lately I've been hugged a lot and I've noticed how squishy womens bodies are. They feel comfy, like a stuffed animal and I realize how good it must feel to a man to hug a chubby woman. And I feel less conflicted about my own chubbiness.

I wanted to share something cool that I just read in Terri Hatcher's book (I finally finished it!):

". . .there's joy in what you've got, even if you can't see it by yourself.

That's why I wrote this book. I want us to be there for each other, by accident and on purpose. . . .I remember that for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. You toss a ball up in the air, it comes down. That's the way I see us affecting each other in life. The intensity of your passion in the world, whether you build houses or raise children or manufacture computer chips, and that action creates consequences. Those consequences have their own effects. So in everything we do, we're responsible, as a community--for our planet, for our society, and for each other."

Happy Birthday, Dessie

Dessie is named after my grandmother. I love that name. I aspire to that name. Dessie used to be my funniest, energetic, and fun-nest sister. More talent and heart than the rest of us put together.

She's had a rough time of it the last 15 years. She began to remember abuse at the hands of my father and went off the deep end. She ended up being married three times, left her family, and met up with a couple of real jerks. Now she lives with a Catholic guy, who is a great cook, and a jerk. She says he loves her. I think he dominates her. Her relationship with her children is tenuous, careful.

When we get together, we could laugh for hours. Now Dessie takes a few extra seconds before she can process and more often just smiles quietly than her signature cackle-giggle. We used to eat the candy she shoplifted and fight the fights she would start as she--pit-bull-like--thought she was ten foot tall and bullet proof. We used to hold her down and punch her and she would laugh. That sounds so sick. But when you're poor, I guess you entertain yourself how you can.

I miss my sister. Today she turns 50. How weird it that? To have a younger sister who is the ancient age of 50. To have a younger sister who is light years older than you is sad.

Bill loses his temper

My husband is usually a dignified sort of person. He misses being a gentle giant by a hair because of his anal attitude towards tasks. He's like his mother, who used to offer her suggestions until I agreed with her just to shut her up. I've said it's like being beaten to death by a butterfly.

He and I bicker constantly because we are both OCD--I about people, he about tasks. So I see him mad quite a bit. It's a fair fight :).

Others, though, seldom see this side of him. But he came home from work yesterday disappointed with himself because he'd lost his temper with a co-worker. He was embarrassed, I thought it was funny.

A young man, our daughter's age, who works in the detail shop of the car dealership where Bill is a salesman, smarted off to Bill when he asked him to put gas in a car. Bill was at the wheel of said car at the time and the young man said, "you go do it, Bill. Do your job."

It's funny the things that can push a 60 year old bald-headed man over the edge. A man who never cusses. He says dog manure, not dog poop.

Bill put the car in park, got out and walked up to that kid, madder than heck, got in his face said, "You snot-snosed little shit, don't you ever talk to me that way again. You do your job." Bill said the boy stood there in shock, which was a good thing because he felt like punching him. The two other guys standing there kept their mouth shut, also.

And he got in the car and drove off. He's mortified. I'm entertained. I wonder what that kid will say to Sarah? "Your dad almost punched me out?"

Bill in the morning

When Bill and I were engaged, I went over to his house early one morning for some reason. I opened the kitchen door and he was sitting at the table with his head bowed, praying over his breakfast. He looked a little embarrassed, but I was impressed.

He never eats without blessing his food (not counting at McDonald's). I can look into the kitchen from my office. I cook his breakfast (or he does :)), set it on the table and go into the office. Then I watch for him to bow his head, as he invariably does, to bless his food. We have this moment of silence as I bow my head with him.

He is a good man.

Levi Peterson wrote me a letter

Yes, he did. I wrote to him with a whole new ending, or sequel to Aspen Marooney and he wrote me back.

And my butt is so gold.

The Girls

I am generally reading several books at once. I also read the Ensign cover to cover, which I consider obedience, and I often miss the good stuff that's there in my dogged devotion to reading the words in there, at the expense of quality. I brag about how I always read it, but am often reminded through the bloggernacle to go back and check out something especially profound. I read the scriptures daily.

I'm also reading Levi Peterson's autobiography, which started out very interesting, but is dragging as I read about his dating and college years. I think it will pick up. Oh, and a small book called Facing God which was recommended to me by my monk friend.

I always have three piles of books on my bookshelf. One is books from the bookmobile, which parks right in front of my house; one is a pile from the Cedar City library, and the other is books I have purchased.

I had a bunch of books checked out, so I put off reading The Girls by Lori Lansens (along with John Updike's The Terrorist, which I may never get to) so I could get all my borrowed books back to their respective facilities sometime in the year I checked them out.

The Girls is a worthy book. I will not donate this book, I will keep it. I recommend it to all readers. It's full of insight, but the story is compelling--about Siamese twins joined at the head. The author does a wonderful job of writing in both twins' voice and telling a compelling story. A teaser: one twin becomes pregnant at the age of 16 and gives the child up for adoption.

Here's a few passages that resonated with me:

(referring to a neighbor woman who mourned her son killed in a tornado) "She buried his bike under the apple tree. I always wondered if she thought Larry's spirit was speaking to her through Rose's poem. I'm not being sarcastic. I really believe it."

What I liked about that is sometimes I say strange things and people think I'm being sarcastic or funny, but I really believe most of what I say.

(Referring to a "true" story of how a man hits a deer with his car. The deer goes through the window and lands in a sitting position on his mistress, killing the woman): " 'What's a mistress?" (six year old) Ruby asked.
'Aunt Lovey had turned full circle to look at Ruby and me in the backseat. "A mistress is a woman who has sexual relations with a married man." Her policy was, if you're old enough to ask the question you're old enough to be told the truth.' "

(Ruby's comment after an interchange with her sister, Rose) "That made me feel good and quite annoyed at the same time, because I don't need her approval. But I do. You know?"

(Ruby, again ) "Rose really brooded about that. She likes a good brood. She does. But I choose to be happy." ( :) I am like Rose, I like a good brood)

And one last, funny thing: (Rose, this time) ". . .I had a flash of Ruby at about five years old, at the Jaycee Fair in Chatham. We'd gone on a child's ride. . .A crowd had gathered to watch us. i remember friendly faces for the most part, somewhat pitying, friendly faces, at lest until we got off the ride and Ruby shouted, "That made my vagina tingle!"

This author wrote another book, which I am going to have to order. Bill and I are going to West Yellowstone in September and I will ride all comfy in the back seat, tranquilized and with a pile of books.

Side blogs

I want to say two things: I very much enjoy the side blogs. I'm just realizing that other blogs besides Times and Seasons do that. I appreciate it very much because it's so hard to get in all the good stuff. I think it's a good thing you are all doing. I must learn how to do it. After I finish the ironing. Which will happen after I start the ironing.

what have you forgotten?

There is a test one can take that supposedly diagnoses the possibility of Alzheimer's. I'm a classic hypochondriac and as soon as I read about the test, I went in to my doctor to take it. I said, "Doc, I think I need physical therapy on my foot (I'd cut my achilles tendon) and my hip is bothering me, maybe I need a new one, and I think I have alzheimer's. I want that new test."

He laughed, but I took the test and it was positive, which stunned us both. Although the test has problems because a positive can mean one has other problems. We found I'd had a TIA and some other physical things. Long story, although I enjoy discussing it. LOL So we aren't sure what's going on.

I've shared this with my friends, but they don't care, they can't remember squat either.

Yesterday I dropped over to my neighbor with a plate of cookies, I'm her visiting teacher. She and her husband were on the porch. Her husband said, "hey, what about your dogs?"

I replied, "are they bugging you?"

He said, "no, you left that message on our machine last week."

I said, "hmm. . .no, I didn't call you about my dogs."

He said, "you said something about three kinds of food?"

I pondered, then I remembered. I'd played a practical joke on them last week.

I'd called and said, "Hi, could you guys take care of my dogs while we're gone for a week? It's really easy, there are only three kinds of dog foods and I'll have to explain, each dog gets a different kind and the fourth just eats whatever. Oh, and you'll need to put Toby in and out or he poops in the house and if it thunders and rains, you'll have to come home and put Shelby in, because he panics. You'll have to put him downstairs, but check him after an hour or he'll tear it up."

" Oh, and if they bark, all you have to do is go put the bark collars on them. I don't have to do it every night, maybe two or three nights a week. But they usually don't do it till 4 in the morning."

"I would really really appreciate it, you guys. Thanks."

They're so sweet they didn't even hesitate, so it wasn't as good a joke as it could have been. I was hoping to hear their excuses. I wanted to hear, "Are you crazy? We hate your dogs."

And we all laughed because I forgot my own joke. I used to have an almost photographic memory, I didn't have to write any thing down. Now it doesn't matter if I write it, I'll lose the piece of paper.

The part I probably find the most bothersome is my inability to recognize people. Many people look alike to me now. If they're together, I know them, but if they're apart, I have to ask them who they are. It's interesting, but on a scale of one to 10, as far as problems go, I would consider this a 3.

unthinkable thoughts

Scott Bronson's post over at Popcorn Popping bothers me. His refusal to accept that his writing was way off base bothers me. I know through experience that this will probably come home to bite him, and he will recognize his own ignorance.

These are pictures of my loved ones. The bottom is my husband and son, taken 6 weeks before they drowned.

As I sat in the hospital waiting room, surrounded by family, as the doctors were trying to save my son (my husband was already pronounced dead), I thought two things I would never have voiced:

"Give me back my husband, take my son."

"I'm afraid--I think the plane will crash." (They were life flighting Davey, he died before they got there) I still feel guilty for thinking of my own welfare, for the physical fear I had. I'd flown quite a lot before that. I didn't get on an airplane again for 18 years, after James died.

His is the top picture, taken two years before his death. What a sweet, sweet boy.

The unthinkable thoughts I had when the two Marines came to tell me that James had committed suicide were, "I wish he'd died in an accident, that I could think this was an act of God."

"I wish it were someone else's child. Take my sister's son."

"I won't have to worry about money. The military will pay for everything."

"That chicken salad looks so good."

I could go on. When those two boys were abducted and tortured and murdered by insurgents in Iraq early this month, I thought, "thank God he died before he went to Iraq."

But I never, not once, worried that anybody would pity me. My husband and I never had that discussion. I totally did not give a crap about that.

The fact that Scott so totally missed what he was trying to portray tells me that he was aiming for shock, not excellence in his writing.

Judge orders teen to cancer treatment

I read this headline this morning when I checked in on the Drudge Report. I find this immensely troubling.

Bill and I have a solid agreement that we will make individual decisions should we ever become ill with cancer. We have agreed not to force chemotherapy or radiation on the other. I have decided I will never have chemotherapy and he says, for now, that he will honor my wishes.

I think this 16 year old boy is mature enough to decide for himself what treatment he must endure. I guess, ideally, his parents have explained his options to him and he would rather go with alternative treatment. I think it should be his decision.

I've seen success with both types of treatments; but more often, I've seen people waste valuable time fighting cancer with chemotherapy and spending their dying days unable to function in any way. They are not able to enjoy the last days with their family because of the treatment, not the disease. They do not die with dignity.

One man I know was diagnosed with colon cancer and opted not to have chemo or radiation in order to buy time. He died so peacefully. He lost weight, but never got as sick as another friend, who did try radiation to prolong his time. Both these men were going to die from cancer, but the one who had treatment died a more horrible death.

What scares me with the state's forcing this boy into treatment is my fear that I will be forced to have treatment I don't want in order to prolong my life. I don't think the state has any right to interfere here.

Blogging and self-esteem, and Trevor's first words

Apparently we're insignifcant microbes in the TTLB Ecosystem. I choose to think that something is wrong with the way the ecosystem rankings are calculated. I know you guys all love us (ok, I realize that you come here for annegb and not me).

My youngest child, Trevor, said his first words this week. They are "Thank you" (or "tick too"). He says it whenever someone gives him something he likes, such as a toy or a cracker. It's quite cute. I'm sure that "no" isn't far behind, but for now, he's the most polite baby we know.

Good advice, you guys. No lie.

Bill and I are going to Costco this week sometime and we are stocking up on cigarettes and coffee. That really bothers him, but I said, "honey we can't afford silver or gold and these things will be really good barter, if times get tough."

I think the end is beginning. The war in the middle east scares the crap out of me and makes my heart ache for those poor people. I see pictures of little boys and girls and it just rips me.

We are fortunate in America, but we should be prepared. Get some water on hand and store some coffee and cigarettes. During the holocaust these things were as good as gold to trade. Also light bulbs were a shortage.

Oh, also, put in some extra toothbrushes and soap and aluminum foil and paper plates in case you have to take in refugees.

Favorite movies

Quick, name five really great movies you've seen.

Let me see: Searching for Bobby Fisher
Shawshank Redemption
Children of a Lesser God
Tootsie
The Abyss

I haven't seen a really good movie in so long I can't remember when it was. Bill and I rented Shopgirl (sad ending), Syriana (sad, confusing ending), and we went to see The Breakup, which was an unexpected bummer.

I read that Hollywood is having a rough time. They make a big deal out of Pirates of the Caribbean being #1. I think it's just because there's nothing better to see. I am looking forward to M. Night Shymalan's new movie. Although he can never quite top The Sixth Sense.

Moving

My family and I are moving from Durham, NC, where we have spent the last ten years of our lives, to Harrisonburg, VA, where I have accepted a job. I have two weeks to get things packed. Yuck.

Any advice?

Spotlight: Jessie

I got Jessie when I married her dad. She was three years old and sort of traumatized. Her mother had left the family a year before and she'd had a mean babysitter.

She was the cutest little thing. The first time I tended her, I told her no for something, candy or something small, and she spouted: "dumb-dumb butthole asshole" and ran into her room. I laughed that a little kid knew those words and cuddled her.

She began to call me Mommy on her own, naturally. She still calls me Mommy. She calls me "Mother" in a deeply condescending tone when we are arguing.

I wouldn't have believed that tiny girl would turn into an Amazon. She's 6' tall now. The picture on the right is her today, with her boyfriend, Jack, who we love.

The picture right is a famous one, sort of. Jessie won a contest when she was eight years old. Kids were encouraged to enter pictures for the Primary Children's Medical Center alphabet block contest. Jessie's mermaid won for the "M" block. 25,000 kids entered this contest. Jessie's picture was in the Children's Friend that year, it's on t-shirts that the hospital gift shop sells, it's in coloring books they give to children waiting for care, it's on blocks all over the hospital. The original picture is framed and on display in the cafateria or the snack shop, I can't remember.

She said when she was the wise old age of ten: "I could make a much better mermaid now."

Jessie and I have been through so much together. I flew to Denver to rescue her from her four year marriage to a beast. I rented a little red mustang, went to her place, called the cops, and stuffed her possessions into the trunk and back seat of that little car and took my girl home. It was a total God thing.

She is the most beautiful, charming, and talented person I know in real life. Her life has not been easy. But she has chosen to be a good person, a giving person, and she lights up a room like nobody I know. She is a gift in my life.

Good advice

I heard a good saying "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." I am my own worst enemy and it takes a long time for me to learn my lesson. I've been tilting at windmills all my life and it mostly just gets people mad at me.

I thought I would share that little saying. Today I'm going to ask myself, "what do I normally do?" and do the opposite. Which pretty much entails keeping my mouth shut.