You Make the Call

The BYU TV web site provides this description of its Book of Mormon program series: "Faculty members from BYU Religious Education discuss the writings and teachings of The Book of Mormon prophets in this 63-part series. Each of the half-hour episodes covers several chapters from The Book of Mormon." Today I was looking at the online TV schedule on the Internet, and it included this entry for BYU TV: "Discussions on the Book of Mormon: 1 Nephi 1 (Talk / Tabloid) TV-G CC." My reading of the TV schedule triggered a memory. Scholastic Books had some arrangement with my elementary school. A couple of times a year we students would receive a description of books we could purchase. A favorite of the students was "The Guinness Book of World Records." (For some reason I was enamored with "The Arrow Book of States," which included a page or two of information about each of the 50 states.) Another book that would float around the school, though I can't recall whether we could purchase it through Scholastic Books, was "Ripley's Believe It or Not." The book trumpeted bizarre feats such as someone having 100-inch finger nails, wearing a beard comprised of live bees, and so forth. One night I was watching The Tonight Show, and Johnny Carson pointed out that the title of the book does give readers a choice - - believe it, or not. My recollection of Carson's insight sent my mind in another direction. A few years ago I was on a business trip to Boston. One evening I shared a taxi ride with a co-worker, a very aggressive negotiator whose glibness had been enhanced by a few drinks at dinner. Our taxi pulled up behind a car with New Hampshire license plates, and reading aloud from the plate she said: "`Live Free or Die'? Then die! You shouldn't have asked!!"

Signetics

Today I checked out a Gold's Gym in Orem, Utah. The gym is housed in a former Fred Meyer store, and touts itself as the largest Gold's Gym in the United States. By way of comparison, I believe that Reggie Jackson's gym in Seaside, California has about 8 or 9 treadmills. This gym may have 40 or more - - the facility is huge. It sits on some property of some significance to many who attended BYU and who have lived in the Provo - Orem area. I became aware of the property when I learned of Signetics. "Signetics, once a major player in semiconductor manufacturing, made a variety of devices which included integrated circuits, bipolar and MOS, the Dolby circuit, logic, memory and analog circuits and Motorola clone CPUs, some of which were included in the first Atari video games. Signetics was started in 1960 or 1961 by the engineer Dave Allison. Its main business was semiconductor manufacturing. Most of the manufacturing was in Sunnyvale California, though there were factories in Orem, Utah and New Mexico also . . . The company eventually became a part of Philips, during which time it reached its manufacturing height at around 1980. From then on the Signetics brand slowly disintegrated in the face of competition from AMD and Intel. The company is now extinct except for its name." (Signetics, Wikipedia) When I was working on my Computer Science degree at BYU many BYU students were getting excellent jobs at the Orem plant, including internships. The students would have certainly included electrical engineering students and computer science students, and perhaps others as well. Signetics gave a great boost to students who were just starting their careers and families. The Orem Signetics plant was eventually closed, and the facility sat unused for years. A few years ago there was renewed interest in the property. Orem was faced with a choice between two interested parties - - if I recall correctly, each party needed some zoning accommodation from Orem city to execute their plans for the property. One party was a chip manufacturer that would update the plant and start up manufacturing again; the other party was Fred Meyer, which had plans to raze the old building and replace it with a large grocery - department store. I was a little surprised when Orem chose to facilitate the Fred Meyer plan. A few years later, the Fred Meyer building was shut down as its Kroger parent company came to own both the Fred Meyer and Smith's grocery stores, meaning that Kroger found itself with too many stores in the Provo - Orem area. And now, Orem has the largest Gold's Gym in the United States, if not the world. I wonder whether the role Signetics played in the economic development of Provo - Orem helped create the market for such a gym.

A Gem

I happened upon this quote from Jon Stewart, the host of The Daily Show on Comedy Central: "Saddam Hussein stood up at his trial and shouted, `I am not afraid of execution!' Until his lawyers explained, `You are not going to execute anybody. It's you that is going to be executed.' At which point [Saddam] said in Arabic, and this is a rough translation, `Ah, my bad.'" (Time, Dec. 19, 2005, p. 32)

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

I enjoyed watching this movie today. I paid for my own ticket.

Everything I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten?

My nephews desmontrated mastery of some important concepts during the holidays. On one special day, from time to time my youngest nephew would exclaim "I am the birthday boy here! I am the birthday boy here!" He knew he was entitled to some privileges, and zealously and successfully secured those privileges throughout the day. He willed us to McDonald's and to Chucky Cheese, and he finished his day in triumph when he blew out all the candles on his birthday cake. One evening our housing arrangments had me sharing a bedroom with nephews of ages 5, 7, and 9. After their father turned the lights out, and admonished his sons to be quiet and get to sleep, the boys risked some chatter nonetheless. The 7-year-old gave an earnest and impassioned warning to his brothers, along the following lines: "This has happened to me three times. Once in the home of one of my grandmothers, once in the home of my other grandmother, and once here. If you dream that you are going to go to the bathroom, don't do it!"

Scenic Road

The next time you're in Carmel, California, enjoy a walk or run along Scenic Road, which is bordered by beach homes on one side and, surprisingly, the beach on the other side.

California Dreaming

Today I drove through Castroville, California, the self-proclaimed "Artichoke Center of the World." I went through Castroville on the way to Salinas for a quick visit to a John Steinbeck museum. We saw huge fields of fertile soil along the way. For my brother, the fields evoked memories of passages Steinbeck had written about dirt. For me, the fields evoked memories of dirt. Maybe someone can send in a representative passage from Steinbeck. Later in the day I took a nephew on the "The 17 Mile Drive" through Pebble Beach. The vistas are spectacular, and it boggles the mind to think of the valuation of homes along that drive. In the evening I attended a dinner party where I learned the mascot for the University of California Santa Cruz is the Banana Slug. I was able to confirm this by visiting the web site www.goslugs.com, the official web site of UC Santa Cruz athletics. The school's varsity program include men's and women's teams for basketball, soccer, tennis, volleyball, and water polo. Go Slugs!

Christmas Day

I had a wonderful Christmas at the home of my sister and her husband. Also there were my parents and my brothers. My niece and nephews really made the day with their energy and excitement. I gave each of my brothers electric trimmers for nose hair / ear hair / "unibrow hair" / side burns / moustaches. My nephews took delight as my older brother gave a live demonstration of using this contraption to cut unwanted nose hair. My sister received a video called "Millions," which we all enjoyed watching during the afternoon. Later, we all ate a delicious Christmas dinner in the evening. As this Christmas took place on Sunday, we started off the day with a 10 am Church service. There was a choir, stringed instruments, and congregational singing. We were seated on the front row of the chapel, and to my right a man was booming out the congregational numbers with more than a bit of gusto but not necessarily a lot of pitch or control. I made the mistake of taking a quick look to my left, where I saw my sister's husband grinning a bit over the singing from the the right side of the chapel, and then saw the chorister herself possibly straining to confine her facial expressions to a pleasant smile. This brought me to the brink of disaster, I almost lost it, but was able to hold on. Shortly thereafter a man gave a talk, and mentioned how wonderful it was to have visitors in the chapel, and especially to hear a member of the congregration able to sing with his father - - the father would happen to be that man who was singing with such gusto to my right. That was a close one . . .

Two Weeks

On Christmas Eve several of us were watching "A Christmas Story" in my sister's home. My father was thoroughly enjoying the movie, with his youngest grandson snoozing on his lap. We came to the part of the movie where on a dare, on a "triple dog dare" that is, a boy puts his tongue on a frozen flag pole and is horrified when his tongue instantly sticks firmly to the pole. In the movie, the fire department frees the boy, and he walks into class late with gauze bandages protruding from his mouth. This Christmas Eve we learned that in real life my father's tongue was sore for two weeks after, on a dare, he put his tongue on a frozen flag pole in a schoolyard in Cache Valley, Utah.

Winkle, Winkle Little Star

That's what my youngest nephew was singing to the jelly fish he saw at the Monterey Bay Aquarium today. I had not thought of jelly fish that way, but I think my nephew was right on. Take a look at some of the pictures of jellies at www.mbayaq.org and see what you think. According to the website: "The aquarium features the largest permanent collection of jellyfish species in the United States, and the largest-scale jellies exhibits anywhere in the world."

Gilroy Outlet Stores

We went to a block of outlet stores in Gilroy, California. This grouping was predominantly fashion and clothing stores. One of my nephews and I looked over the available stores, and the most tolerable one we were able to find was a paper store. They had some greeting cards. I am horrible at remembering birthdays, so I picked up a belated birthday card for my older brother, whose birthday is in March. I handed him the card later in the morning. The cover shows a boy who has lost his front teeth, and reads "Sorry I Mithed Your Birthday." You open the card, and read: "Thit."

Reggie Jackson

I found a Gold's Gym in Seaside, about 5 miles from where I was staying in Carmel. I had called the gym the week before and learned the prices were pretty reasonable, so I had found my workout spot. Once in the gym, I learned that the Seaside gym is owned by Reggie Jackson. There is a modest collection of framed newspaper stories and photos of Reggie on one of the walls. There is an old black and white poster of Arnold Schwarzennegger with some grandmothers at a beach, and the seated grandmothers are probing Arnold's biceps as he leans over and flexes for them. There is a 1952 black and white poster of Marilyn Monroe working out in a locker room in Hollywood, bench pressing with a couple of dumbbells. It's a nice gym.

They've Gone to the Dogs

Carmel is reportedly one of the most dog-friendly towns in America. Many restaurants and shops allow people to take their dogs inside, and many of those that don't supply dog treats or little hitching posts for the dogs by their door. Tiffany's has a dog bowl set outside the door, and store I saw has a little box of dog bones set outside the door with a note: "A TREAT FOR YOUR 4-LEGGED FRIEND."

Christmas Memories

At my work we had a luncheon that included opportunities for people to share Christmas experiences. A former FBI agent fondly recalled how a man faked his own kidnapping a few days before Christmas, with the result that the agent had to spend Christmas day itself attempting to solve the kidhapping caper. The story had a happy ending as the agent was able to assist in bringing charges against the bogus victim and send him off to prison. Someone received a motor scooter as a girl, was confused as to which handgrip was for the brake, and as a result flew headfirst through a window of her neighbor's car. She spent a good part of her Christmas day in the emergency room along with kids who had recieved skateboards and similar items for Christmas. Another of our merry crew recalled awaking in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve to the sound of a smoke alarm. He peered downstairs and saw an orange glow, then took a closer look and saw flames. He yelled out "Fire! Fire!" until his parents responded. His mother had left candles burning on the coffee table and, as they were sitting directly on the table, when the candles burned down to table level they set the table on fire. His father threw a wet towel on the table to extinguish the fire, and this splattered wax all over the face of his mother. His mother suffered no severe burns, but a good part of the morning was spent peeling off the wax and administering burn ointment. Several people told of their childhood efforts to discover secret presents through unwrapping and re-wrapping presents under the tree, and so forth. One individual had a shrewd mother who learned of the boy's snooping, then placed a very disappointing gift under the tree for her sleuthing son. He was pretty down until she unveiled his true gift on Christmas day. One individual told how he was quite disappointed one Christmas morning when he was a child, so he proceeded to speak directly to his parents about the cheapness of their ways. We heard a tale of woe of an LDS missionary celebrating his first Christmas in Taiwan, facing another 18 months there as a missionary at a time when he was painfully homesick. He decided the best way to cope was to prepare a traditional Christmas dinner. The best he could to for the turkey was to go to the market where they slaughtered a chicken for him, and then he filled it with stuffing and put it in the oven so that it could slowly bake for 4 hours as he and his companion tracted in the streets. The missionaries had a housekeeper, and she happened to pop into their apartment as this Christmas feast was cooking in the oven. Taking pity on the missionaries when she saw the chicken in the over, she decided to lend a helping hand - - she took the chicken out of the oven and finished its preparations, chopping the bird into numerous small pieces and placing it on a platter, a classic Chinese way to serve a chicken dinner. The same individual told of his father, a former Golden Gloves boxing champion, having given his boys boxing gloves one Christmas. He gave them a few pointers on boxing, after which the individual's brother popped him in the face and broke his nose. The nose is not quite straight even to this day.

Family Shortcomings

I attended a very nice Christmas dinner at the home of a friend. She is a leader of a tutoring program I was able to participate in a bit this past year, so her parents hosted a dinner for their dauthter and some who had helped with the program. My friend and her parents proudly told story after story of eccentric family members. I found myself racking my brain for bizarre figures from my family history, but I came up empty, and found myself feeling inadequate.

The Black Nativity

A friend sent me a list of various Christmas events in the Boston area. The one that caught my eye was "The Black Nativity." I found some information at www.blacknativity.org, attended, and had a great experience. The spirit and energy of the work and the performers was moving. The event was held at the Tremont Temple, about a 2 blocks from the Park Street Station at the Boston Common. Another web site contained this description: Black Nativity Langston Hughes, one of America's most important poets of the 20th century, created Black Nativity as a telling of the Christmas story from a black point of view. Drawing on folk and popular songs, traditional seasonal music, and Biblical narratives, Hughes crafted an animated yet uniquely rich song-play celebrating the message of "Joy to the World" and "peace on earth to men of goodwill". His production of Black Nativity first appeared on Broadway in the mid-1960s. When the National Center of Afro-American Artists began its production in l970, it brought additional inventiveness to the song-play, reinterpreting it with a cast of both children and adults, using a live newborn baby for the Christ child, and choreographing the birth of the Babe into the show itself. In the spirit of Langston's original innovation, the NCAAA brought new dimensions to Black Nativity which have stamped the brilliance of its production, and over the last 35 years, made it a classic for the holiday season in New England. (http://www.theatermania.com/content/show.cfm/show/108041)

Mr. Krueger's Christmas

Plot summary of the above from Waltham Workout Buddy: Simple man. Lonely. Dreamer. Giving. Faith. God's grace.

Jingle Bells

I went to a little Christmas party in Malden, Massachusetts last night. Earlier in the day a couple of co-workers mentioned that the song "Jingle Bells" had been inspired by sleigh rides between Malden and Medford. Here is an excerpt from a web site that explains altenative histories of the origin of the song: One day in 1851, James Pierpont went to the home of Mrs. Otis Waterman, who let him play a piano belonging to William Webber, a Medford music teacher. Mrs. Waterman owned the Seccomb boardinghouse, which became better known later as the Simpson Tavern and was eventually torn down [hence the origin of the story that Pierpont wrote the song in a tavern]. After he played the piece for her, Mrs. Waterman replied was that it was a very merry little jingle, and he should have a lot of success with it. Pierpont then wrote the lyrics about the one-horse open sleighs – also known as "cutters" - that young men raced on the one mile route from Medford to Malden squares. It has been said that Pierpont was a rebellious musician with a bad reputation. To underscore the point, Medford Mayor Michael McGlynn has been quoted as saying: "James Pierpont was a bit of a rogue." The Mayor evidently had a gift for the understatement. (See www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/Biographies/james_lord_pierpont.htm)

The Honorable Sandra Day O'Connor

I found myself thinking of a story I had read about John Riggins some time ago, and found this description in wikipedia: In 1985, at a Washington Press Club dinner, an intoxicated Washington Redskins player John Riggins infamously told [Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor]: "Come on, Sandy Baby, loosen up. You're too tight," then passed out on the floor. The next day, the women with whom she shared an early morning exercise class presented her with a T-shirt that read: "Loosen up at the Supreme Court." She apparently bore him no ill will — years later, when he made his acting debut at a local playhouse, she gave him a dozen roses on opening night.

What's News?

1. I was reflecting on how television newscasts will often report items such as "In country A, X occurred." Then the news will talk about how horrible X is, go on and on, and you can even see opinion polls showing how concerned people are that X occurred in country A. Often, X is something about which the average Joe had previously known nothing. Often, the newscasts telling people that X occurred in country A tell us nothing about the extent to which X occurs in other countries, or whether X may even occur in other countries to an even worse extent than in country A. Perhaps X has been occurring in country B for years, and something should be done about it. Why do newscasts do this? There could be a variety of reasons, I would only be speculating were I to try to explain why this occurs. But it is fully within my own ability to be a bit more perceptive when I watch the news. 2. I hope the vast readership of The Greg Jones Blog has noticed that I try to keep things pretty positive in what I write. I have often heard people lament over the media not covering positive things that occur. In the fitness center today someone turned on the TV, and CNN reported a new website at www.happynews.com. This site reports only positive news. One of the CNN commentators was a bit skeptical, saying while people say they want positive news, she does not believe it. Go check out the web site when you have some time.

The Eavesdropper - - A Report From the Harvard Coop

Saturday evening I bought a couple of books and sat down for a quick dinner at the Harvard Coop book store at Harvard Square. Locals call this place "The Coop" (pronunced like "chicken coop"). It is a place like The Tattered Cover in Denver, where people gather to browse and read - - and especially at The Coop look smart, read books but, but be sure to look smart while reading the books. There are four floors at The Coop, one floor below ground level, the main floor at ground level that has an open view of the second and third floors above it. The second and third floors are accessed by an open, half-spiral staircase at the end of the floors opposite the entrance. On the second and third floors the central area is empty, on the sides there are narrow passages with shelves built into the walls, and on the ends there are more book shelves - - from the second and third floors one can look down on the main floor. The Coop Cafe is located beyond the staircase on the second floor. After I bought my books, I went to the Coop Cafe, a couple occupying two small tables was preparing to leave, and I took one of their tables as the couple left. When I retuned after paying for my food and books, a new couple had occupied the small table to my immediate right. I took my seat, with my back to the wall. The woman was seated adjacent to me. The man was standing. These two seemed to be in their 30s. He wore glases, was a bit thick about the waste, had a little gray in his hair. The woman wore no glasses, had brunette hair that went past her shoulders, and for reading materials she had selected a large book titled "1491" and an edition of Oprah Winfrey's magazine. Neither one of them wore a wedding band. The man began speaking to her in a somewhat hushed tone, spaaking with a cadence and deliberation suggesting he was wrestling with some challenging subject that required painstaking thought, and the most precise choice and use of words. This is the gist of the conversation I overheard. Man: I've finally figured it out. Gwyneth Paltrow . . . She would not be someone's first choice, she would maybe be someone's second choice . . . It is her face . . . She looks . . . desperate . . . Woman: (after a pause) She has sad eyes . . . Man: It is that the more homely a woman is, the more attractive she is . . . But also, the more monstrous a woman is, the more attractive she is . . . Woman: (after a long pause) This conversation is really putting me off . . . Man: That's right . . . You're concerned with the entire objectification of women . . . (man walks off to get some drinks) Woman: (after a pause, under her breath, speaks to herself in exasperation) Crazy!

What?

Today's plot summary from the Waltham Workout Buddy: Mutant bats. Heroic people. Cave exploded. Civilization saved. Can anyone name that movie? I couldn't. It's "Bats," starring Lou Diamond Phillips.

Legos Christmas

A few years ago I was at my sister's for Christmas. My parents were in town, my brothers were there. Most of the adults were planning to go out to a movie on Christmas night. I was in the middle of helping one of my nephews, who must have been about 6 or 7 at the time, with some Legos toys he had been given from Christmas. He had 1 or 2 Legos sets for something like a race track or roller coaster, and there were somewhat involved instructions for building these things. I thought to myself "You can be a great uncle by staying home from the movie and helping your nephew with these Legos." Being the fantastic uncle that I am, I obviously stayed home. About 5 or 10 minutes after the adults had gone to the movie, my nephew grew anxious, and the following exchange ensued. Nephew: Uncle Greg, how long is it going to take for us to finish setting this up? Uncle Greg: About 45 or 60 minutes. Nephew: I don't have time for stuff like this!!! My nephew made a quick exit out of the room.

Potpurri for $500

I was in Reagan National Airport recently. There were many Americans there. I am not sure whether the man driving my cab was an American, or even a cab driver. His English was pretty limited, as was his knowledge of the area. We arrived at my destination by my feeding to directions to the driver, and I received those directions by cell phone from a colleague located at my destination and equipped with a cell phone and notebook computer that has a wireless Internet connection. In Boston I drove from the airport to Books and Basketball, taking Columbia Road. This took me by Walter R. White Square. This also took me places where I had to make sure my car was locked. On the way home traffic on I-95 northbound was excruciatingly slow as a result of an accident that shut down all but one lane of the freeway at one point. The slowness was made worse by "gaper's delay," a term I first heard from my boss the summer I worked in Chicago. A colleague sent a link with bizarre plane accidents. Here it is: http://www.airmunn.com/oops.htm. My office walls in Waltham are bare. Someone said I should hang an Escher poster on the wall. Here is a sample: www.mcescher.com/Gallery/recogn-bmp/LW435.jpg.

Weekend Update

I took the shuttle from Provo to the airport Friday morning. A guy on the shuttle was concerned that he would miss his flight. I believe the shuttle arrived at 10 minutes before his flight was to take off. I'm almost certain that he missed his flight. I'm almost certain because somehow my younger brother arrived at the Salt Lake airport 5 minutes before his flight was scheduled to leave, and still made the flight - - amazing. On Friday I finished the Afghan novel on the plane from Salt Lake City to Boston. It was a great book, I wished the story had kept going.

Oscar Wilde Quote

Recently I had a great opportunity to spend time with some friends I had not seen for years, and to get to know their wonderful children as well. Within a few days of the visit, the husband sent me this quote attributed to Oscar Wilde: Some cause happiness wherever they go, and others whenever they go.

Remote Plot Summary for Wednesday

Waltham Workout Buddy phoned in this plot summary for Wednesday: Teenage hacker. U.S. super war computer. Thermonuclear war games. No game. Tic tac toe saves the day. A whopper of a movie.

Mullah Nasrudin

I was reading the Afghan novel again last night, and became acquainted with Mullah Nasrudin jokes, which apparently are a staple of Afghan humor. Here are a few examples from the article on Nasrudin at www.wikipedia.org. Two sides of a river Nasrudin sat on a river bank when someone shouted to him from the opposite side: "Hey! how do I get across?" "You are across!" Nasrudin shouted back. Camel Ride One day, the venerable Mullah Nasrudin came galloping on camel-back through a small village. His camel carried him at a rush into and out of the village without stop, while the villagers all stared in curiosity at his passing. The very next day, the Mullah and his camel came rushing back through the village, all the time his eyes furiously searching on all sides of him. Again, the villagers watched open mouthed wondering just what Nasrudin was up to. On the third day, the Mullah Nasrudin and his camel once again came galloping through the village, but this time a small boy ran out in front, causing him to screech to a halt.: The small boy asked, "Great Mullah, what are you looking for?!" The Mullah Nasrudin responded, "For my camel. Have you seen him?"

Tip of the Day

A loyal reader, who I will call Skipper here, observed that my tip of the taxi driver last Wednesday was a bit light. It was only about 10% of the fare. I had actually intended to give a 15% tip. I may find an opportunity to make that up to her. Recently Hans, a reader in Denmark, expressed concern that I did not appear to be commenting on movies that are current releases, and went on to comment that I never seem be willing to pay full price to see a movie. Last week I did see the movie "Good Night, and Good Luck." It is a current release. It is an excellent film. My father paid for my ticket.

Weekend Update

Saturday I flew from Denver to Salt Lake City. I read my novel on the plane. I was thoroughly engrossed in the book. The two seats to my right were empty. A couple occupied the seats to my right to escape the overpowering smell of vomit from a baby in the back of the plane. My old roommate and his son picked me up at the Salt Lake Airport. The boy is named after me, but has had little contact with me throughout his life, and has wisely chosen to go by his middle name instead of Gregory. The freeways from Salt Lake to Provo were quite icy, with vehicles off to the side of the road, sliding across lanes, stopped facing the opposite direction of traffic, and so forth. Now these are the great holiday travel experiences I cherish! I spoke to man after a Church meeting on Sunday. He fabricates windmills that are 270 feet high. My Danish ancestors had a windmill back in Denmark, that has now been destroyed by wind or fire. I was able to visit the probably site of that windmill once - - it was a great experience. On the same trip we were able to visit a windmill of the same style in a replica of an 1850s-era farm village outside of Odense.

Community Leader

"You will be recognized and honored as a community leader." That was the message on the fortune cookie I received after dinner at Little Ollie's Chinese Cafe in Denver. Well, the complete message was "You will be recognized and honored as a community leader 16 17 40 42 46 51." Earlier in the day my parents, Doug, and I had breakfast at The Original Pancake House in Littleton, Colorado. We then went to Colorado Shaver to have my Braun electric shaver serviced - - the man said it was the worst wear he had ever seen on a shaver. It had been taking me longer and longer to shave over the past several months. We then drove a few blocks further north on Broadway to take picture of us at the Gothic Theater. My family had seen "It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World" on a Christmas day there just a few years back. Since that time the theater went through various incarnations in which during different periods it showed first run movies, hosted rock concerts, showed movies that attracted coarser crowds, or acted as a discount or dollar movie house. It was, of course, the last incarnation that attracted the Jones family. We went to the Gothic on numerous occasions to see movies. During that time period there were quite a few people in the theater wearing their old army fatigues, and I'm sure many of them were Vietnam vets. I never recall having sat in the balcony as a family, but some of my high school friends had, and some claimed that on Friday and Saturday nights those who sat in balcony might get a buzz from second hand smoke. The popcorn was made in a big old popcorn popper, was cheap, and had tons of butter (and unpopped kernels). If you showed up for the 5:30 pm show or earlier, your tickets were discounted even further. Yes, we knew that from firsthand experience. When you went to the early show the theater had just been cleaned, as evidenced by the still-damp theater floors, and the pungent odor comprised of the aromas of ammonia and stale popcorn. On one weekend my brother Doug went to the Gothic with his friend Danny. Danny was a wiry little guy, and a little adventurous. Doug and Danny were viewing one of the Vietnam war dramas of the era, and a particularly intense scene was interrupted when a Vietnam vet in the audience jumped out of his seat and exclaimed something along the lines of "If you think that's the way things really were, you're crazy!" At that point Danny, who was no more than 17 years- old (and probably looked 15 or younger), jumped up, pumped his fist in the air, and said "Yeah!" I would have not felt safe to be in Danny's company that evening. Now, we saw another movie there that many of you may have never seen. It is called "Simon," and Alan Arkin played the title role. Here is a plot summary: "A group of scientist[s] take Simon, a psychology professor, as a test person for a brainwash experiment. After that they try to convince him that he was a living-being from another planet." (See http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0081518/plotsummary) In a scene after Simon has been brainwashed, and believes he is a being from another planet, Simon steps onto an elevator with the attending scientists. He hears some elevator music. The dialogue went something like this: Simon: What is that? Scientist: It's called Muzak. Simon: Tell them to stop that. Needless to day, I recommend this movie to all of you.

Thanksgiving Day

I woke at about 4 am and read from the Book of Mormon and the new Afghanistan-based novel I've started. I then got some exercise, using a weight set of my older brother, and then walking over to the new track at Heritage High School. The track surface is a new, rubberized surface. The location is the same as when I went to high school - - it encircles the practice football field. I spent a lot of time on the that field during my high school years, having played football all 4 years and having run track my junior year. I learned a lot of lessons there as well. One of the lessons came during a football practice before my senior season. I played fullback, and took a handoff right up the middle of a line. As I tried to accelerate through the line, my foot hit a patch of clay-like mud, my foot shot backward, I lost my balance, fell, and the play ended right there. I was anxious to compete for a starting spot, so every play counted, and I wanted the coach to realize the play was a fluke that did not reflect my abilities. I looked plaintiveley at Coach McCall as I headed back to the huddle, and he simply remarked "I can't do anything about the mud." For the remainder of the day, my Mom made a great Thanksgiving Day dinner, we watched the Denver Broncos beat the Dallas Cowboys, and watched "Napoleon Dynamite." This was my brother Doug's first viewing of the movie. Doug himself has noticed the physical resemblance between Doug and the Napoleon character, especially if you look back at Doug's high school pictures. Doug is a pretty exacting film critic, so looked forward to his assessment of this movie with some trepidation. In the end, he gave it a 7.5 or 8 on a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being high).

Holiday Travel Report

I chose to fly from Boston to Denver on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I expected heavy travel, and then heard on the news that the day before Thanksgiving is actually the heaviest travel day of the year. When I left my apartment for work at about 5:45 am, there were a few snow flakes swirling around. All the indicators for one of those memorable holiday travel days were present. I had a taxi pick me up at Novell's office in Waltham. There are 3 or 4 wild turkeys that live on the site of the large facility where Novell leases space. The natural competitors for the turkeys are gone, so they wander around pretty leisurely on the grounds. One of them move out pretty quickly, however, when I came walking along. When the taxi driver arrived with a frozen turkey in the back of her vehicle. There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and no snow storms had materialized. My flight was to depart at 4:53 pm, and I had the taxi driver pick me up at 1 pm. She informed me that in recent years the airport is very busy on Tuesday's, with less people traveling on Wednesday. I had actually used this same taxi driver twice before. She told me about her Thanksgiving plans. I believe she had given me a ride when I went to Argentina, so I told her a bit about my trip there back in August. We arrived at the airport at about 1:30 pm. No huge traffic jams, no huge crowds, no interminable lines, nothing. The fare was $61, so the total was $68 after a tip. Nothing really remarkable happened in the airport. I ate some clam chowder at Legal Sea Foods. I bought a frozen yogurt waffle cone, and then dripped chocolate frozen yogurt all over myself. On an unrelated note, I've recently found myself growing irritated at the incessant communications over the PA systems in airports. Maybe its just me . . . My flight to Denver was uneventful, except for when I spilled cran-apple juice all over myself. I also overheard someone tell a fellow traveler that while most people have "genetic trees," that in his family they have many half-brothers and half-sisters, so they have more of a "genetic garden" or "genetic bush." On the flight I began reading a novel set in Afghanistan that had been recommended by friends this past summer. The head flight attendant added some embellishments to the standard announcements. On arriving in Denver, he thanked everyone for choosing to fly United, and indicated that the families of the United employees also appreciated our choice, and that our choice was also appreciated by his parole officer. My mother and brother greeted me at the airport, and as we waited for my father to come through the passenger pickup loop, I stepped out to flag him down, only to be cautioned by an overzealous law enforcement officer - - "You can't load there!" So, I arrived in Denver without incident. No weather delays, no outrageous masses of humanity stranded indefinitely in airports, nothing. The best I can muster for this trip is spilling food all over myself twice and the Denver police officer. This was quite disappointing as I had been hoping for a memorable travel day. As I am sure is the case with most all of the vast readership of The Greg Jones Blog, I have actually had some memorable holiday travel days. A couple of years ago my brother Doug and I made the drive from Provo to Littleton to visit my parents for Christmas. As we exited the Eisenhower Tunnel that goes under the Continental Divide, it was dark, it was icy, snow was everywhere, and the I-70 quickly turned into a parking lot. Earlier in the evening boulders and rocks had fallen onto the freeway, and it was taking time to make the freeway safe again. Fortunately Doug and I had many supplies in the car. I believe we were stuck for about 2 hours there. During the course of the wait, from time to time a stranded passenger would have to run across westbound I-70 to get behind the tree lines and answer mother nature's call. Once the highway opened up we made it into Littleton without any problems. Several years earlier I arrived at the Denver airport for an evening flight to Salt Lake City. I had to report to work the next day after having spent the Christmas break in Colorado. I was taking TWA. There were no weather problems in Denver. But our TWA plane was tied up with weather conditions in St. Louis. I believe the flight departed after 1 am. I rode down to Provo with a bunch of BYU students I'd never met before. I think we got into Provo after 4 am. Working at Novell that day was a real grind. Why couldn't I have had one of those memorable holiday travel days?

Books and Basketball

Last night I went to Books and Basketball in Roslindale and tutored a student in Spanish. She is the daughter of one of my co-workers. We studied the use of the preterite and imperfect tenses. She is taking Honors Spanish and is very bright. She is a high school freshman but was able to make the varsity cheerleading team. She seems to be off to a very bright start to her high school experience. She has to get up at 5 am every day to get ready and take her 45 minute bus ride to school - - she's been doing that since the second grade. In Littleton the LDS high school kids were dying when we had to go to 6 am seminary, and by the looks of some of those kids they were waking up at about 5:55 am. All of the non-LDS kids were seeminly getting up well after 6 am. Pretty interesting . . .

FHE

I went to my family home evening group Monday. We all had a nice time. It seems most of the people there were from Utah or Idaho originally, but I'm not sure about all of them. They are in Boston doing a variety of things - - Accencture consultant, software engineer, Raytheon employee, editor (or seeking work as an editor, putting postage labels on manilla envelopes and other odd jobs for now), school counselor / graduate student, physician's assistant, employee at the Harvard alumni association, interior designer. An interesting and nice group of people. From the interior designer we learned that a good way to get inexpensive furniture is through a liquidator for hotel furniture - - especially if you know someone with connections who knows when a nice hotel is getting rid of furniture. You never know what tidbits you'll pick up here at The Greg Jones Blog. At home I watched the last portion of "Honeymoon in Vegas." a movie from the early 90s with Nicholas Cage, Sarah Jessica Parker, James Caan, Pat Morita, and Peter Boyle. I first saw this movie on a flight back to Utah from the east coast. I was a bit weary from the business trip I'd been on, and the movie was a breath of fresh air, it is a Greg Jones favorite. The tagline for the movie is "A comedy about one bride, two grooms, and 34 flying Elvises." Now who wouldn't just love a movie like that? Watch it some time and see what you think. Another Greg Jones favorite is "Joe v. The Volcano." It stars Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, and Meg Ryan, and Meg Ryan. Meg Ryan plays 3 roles - - I had no idea who she was when I watched the movie. I had little idea about anything when I watched the movie. In the months leading up to the bar exam my entire being had been folded, spindled, and mutilated as I finished law school, worked a couple of part-time jobs, and had other things going on as well. My brain was fried. I was pacing around outside during the middle of a sunny day in July, trying to memorize material for the bar exam, and suddenly no more information would entire my brain. I had not been exercising for weeks, I had not been doing anything other than work, bar prep, and church stuff. I went to the dollar movies. I had heard of "Joe v. The Volcano" from a friend, so I chose that one. That July afternoon it was one of the most moving films I had ever seen. It still remains a favorite of mine. Check it out some time.

Spidey Updates

No more spidey updates unless and until someone asks for one. (I could have probably gotten away with just saying "unless" rather than "unless and until")

Weekend Update

Saturday morning I worked out at the Novell Fitness Center and then went to the LDS Temple in Belmont. I went to get a key copied at the Home Depot in Waltham. There was a key machine located in the middle of an aisle, with no means for calling for help. A few employees passed by, but they were with customers. One employee walked by, he said someone else would have to help me because he was with an employee. I thought of a couple of people I work with at Novell - - these are alpa-consumers, role models for any downtrodden consumer to follow. These are the most exacting customers I've seen. I could not figure out whether they would demand better treatment or take their business elsewhere. I took off - - I'd made enough of any effort to give Home Depot my business (I think the keys are aobut $1.80 each, so Home Depot will live to regret the day Greg Jones went elsewhere to have his two keys made). Saturday evening I drove from my place to an LDS Chapel in Revere - - about a 30 minute drive from Waltham. On the way I drove through one crosswalk, failing to notice a man laden with grocery bags to my left making his way through the crosswalk. He was a tad bit vocal in expressing his disapproval of my driving. I arrived at my destination 10 or 15 minutes late after having taken only 2 wrong turns on the journey - - as is somewhat typical, I was following directions from www.mapquest.com, which I have to write down by hand because I have no printer in my apartment. At the LDS Chapel the youth of the Cambridge Stake performed "From Cumorah's Hill," a musical presentation for chorus, soloists and readers. The script was written by Brad Wilcox, a friend of mine from my Provo ward, and currently a mission president in Chile. Sunday I went to all of my Church meetings, and then did home teaching. At Church I met someone named Tiffany whose e-mail address includes the name "missgolightly." I had seen her name and e-mail address beore. I introduced myself. She is an engineer - - she agreed her profession did not quite match the "Breakfast at Tiffany's" theme. A little after 5:00 pm I had left for dinner with Ellen, a friend from my freshman year at BYU. She recently purchased a condominium in Lexington. By about 5:30 pm it is quite dark here, and I had a hard time locating her place. When I arrived at the address, I found myself at a large building after following a sign to the "Senior Center and Condominiums." This seemed just a bit odd. I attempted calling Ellen several times, but she had changed phone numbers, and my cell phone skills are abysmal. I had forgotten to write down her unit number, and thought it was 225. I went to 225. There were sounds coming from 224 - - the entire environment was reminiscent of those Sunday mornings in Littleton when my friends and I would take the Sacrament to Mary Booker and others at the nursing home. I gave a half-hearted knock at the door of 225. No one answered, and I took off. This was too weird! I stopped at the mailboxes on the first floor, and spotted Ellen's name on one of them. I went back up to her unit, which was in a different hall than 225. I heard steps coming to the door. The door opened. It was Ellen. We had a nice dinner in a unique condomimium that has high ceilings, 5 levels (5 levels, not floors; for example, it includes a loft), and a spiral stair case. And Ellen has decorated the place beautifully. It turns out that this building is just as described by the sign on the lot - - it contains condominiums, and it contains a senior center.

Spidey Update

The affected seems to have stablized in terms of size. The hue of the redness seems to change throughout the day depending on I-don't-know-what. Skin is beginning to flake off.

Thursday Night at the Taiwan Cafe

Since about June I've been eating about one night per month at the Taiwan Cafe, located at 34 Oxford Street in Boston's Chinatown. A couple of the guys I home teach for Church suggested I home teach them by having dinner with them. Last night was a somewhat typical night. We got together about 7 pm. The group was all men - - one PWC auditor, a former law school classmate of mine at BYU who is from Beijing and now works for the city of Boston, a PhD candidate at MIT, and a PhD candidate at Boston University, and then me. After dinner, one of the PhD guys stayed downtown to meet his date and see the 12 am premier of the new Harry Potter movie. Everyone else piled into my car for rides home. On the way home the MIT guy mentioned a prank that MIT students had pulled on one of the bridges over the Charles river. If you have not heard of the famous "hacks" MIT students engage in, you are in for a treat - - when you have a moment peruse hacks.mit.edu/Hacks/Gallery.html. My favorite hack occurred during a Harvard - Yale football game (I recall reading about it back when it happened): "The members of Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity set up a large weather balloon that rose from the turf near the 46-yard line during a break following a touchdown in the first quarter. The balloon, which had "MIT" written all over it, inflated to six feet in diameter before bursting." (See www-tech.mit.edu/V110/N52/hack.52n.html).

Spidey Update

The size of the affected area appears another 5% smaller or so, the hue of the red is further diminished. However, the redness seems to vary throughout the day. The redness was much more pronounced before and during my morning workout than it is right now.

A Pittance of Time

A co-worker sent out an e-mail with a video clip that can be found at www.remembrance-day.ca. I'll give background information from the site, and then the e-mail response from another co-worker. BACKGROUND INFORMATION On November 11, 1999 Terry Kelly was in a Shoppers Drug Mart store in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. At 10:55 AM an announcement came over the store's PA asking customers who would still be on the premises at 11:00 AM to give two minutes of silence in respect to the veterans who have sacrificed so much for us. Terry was impressed with the store's leadership role in adopting the Legion's "two minutes of silence" initiative. He felt that the store's contribution of educating the public to the importance of remembering was commendable. When eleven o'clock arrived on that day, an announcement was again made asking for the "two minutes of silence" to commence. All customers, with the exception of a man who was accompanied by his young child, showed their respect. Terry's anger towards the father for trying to engage the store's clerk in conversation and for setting a bad example for his child was later channeled into a beautiful piece of work called, "A Pittance of Time". Terry later recorded "A Pittance of Time" and included it on his full-length music CD, "The Power of the Dream". In the interest of creating a greater awareness of the sacrifices that have been made and are still being made on our behalf, "A Pittance of Time" has been adapted to the French language and titled "C'est si peu de temps". Music videos for both audio tracks were also produced in support of the campaign. For more information on Terry Kelly and his work, please visit him at www.terry-kelly.com. E-MAIL FROM DENZIL HARRIS Denzil Harris is from Canada. Here is his e-mail: Interesting video clip. If you look closely in the video, you will see several people wearing red poppies - the symbol of Remembrance Day in Canada. The symbol is based on the famous poem - In Flander's Fields - by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) who served in the Canadian Army during WWI. In Flanders Fields In Flanders Fields the poppies blow Between the crosses row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. With no disrespect to any of the fine traditions here in the US, this is one tradition from Canada that I do miss. Everyone wearing poppies during the week of Remembrance Day. Next year, I am going to remember wear a poppy on Remembrance Day. I am not sure if it is still required in the schools, but I do remember that we had to memorize and recite this poem. Just thought I would pass on this tidbit of info. Denzil

Spidey Update

Since my last report, the circumference of the affected area has diminished 10% to 20%. the hue of the red is further diminished, there are 3 or 4 small areas where the skin is now dry and flaking.

Spidey Update

My left wrist still has a large reddened area extending away from the original spider bites. The overall size of the affected area has not increased, the hue of the red has diminished somewhat, but the redness has now spread out to cover previously unaffected patches within the affected area. In response to a comment posted yesterday, to my knowledge I have not developed any web-ejecting capabilities, but maybe I just don't know how to use any such newly acquired powers.

I'll Be Back

Today I made it back to the Fitness Center for the first time since last Monday. I got there a little later that usual, so WOB (Workout Buddy) had to give me the daily plot summary after-the-fact. Here it is: "Buffy. Angel. Lover's quarrel. Demons attack. Angel destroys. Love survives." Missing work with the flu reminded me of some of those days you'd miss a day from school and have your mom nurse you back to health at home. I remember one time at Damon Runyan Elementary I was knocked unconscious on the playground (we were playing soccer, 2 of us kicked the ball at the same time, when I opened my eyes I was on my back, all kinds of kids had gathered around, and the PE coach was staring into my face). They sent for my mom. Back home I had a bit of headache, drank some cream soda, and then went to football practice. Another time I was home sick and watched the "Dialing for Dollars" movie on Channel 7. The host for some time had been a sportscaster named Starr Yelland, and then for a time a guy named Tom Shannon. It was pretty simple. During commercial breaks the host would call a few phone numbers, the person had to guess within $7 or so how much was in the "Dialing for Dollars" pot - - a correct answer won the pot, an incorrect answer added $7 or so to the pot. My phone never rang. This particular time that I stayed home I saw Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr, and others in "Ocean's 11." I resisted seeing the George Clooney remake for some time, I had to be loyal to the original, even though I had little recollection of the show beyond the title. When I started work at Novell I had the great opportunity to work with a lawyer named David Black who, it turns out, had lived a year or two in Montevista, Colorado, and had watched Tom Shannon hosting "Dialing for Dollars."

Not Flu Shot, Spider Bite

On Friday, November 4, in Provo, Utah, I was attacked by a spider. It bit the inside of my left wrist. Since then I have developed a rash the goes about 50% around the wrist. Progress of the rash seems to have stopped. I have been applying "Tea Tree Therapy" Tea Tree Oil, and it seems to have some effect. I have also applied, from time to time, Hannaford brand Hydrocortisone Cream 1%. I will provide updates as warranted. During my junior year of high school the linebackers would have film sessions in the morning. Coach Bartelmay would bring donuts and milk. One of the players had long, bushy hair. One morning Coach Bartelmay asked him whether he had spiders in his hair. Wow.

Flu Shot

10-23-2005 Steve Martin receives the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor from the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. 11-3-2005 I receive a flu shot. 11-8-2005 I come down with a sore throat and other flu-like symptoms. 11-9-2005 PBS Broadcast of Steve Martin receiving the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor from the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. 11-11-2005 Home from work with the flu, I see a re-broadcast of Steve Martin receiving the Mark Twain Prize. Excerpts from a Washington Post story on the event: In receiving the award, Martin called it "the only significant American award for comedy -- except for money." He added: "When I look at the list of people given this award it makes me satisfied. When I see the list of those who haven't been given the award it makes me even more satisfied." He then pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, to read his favorite Twain "quote": "For God's sake, please don't name an award after me." 11-14-2005 I make this blog entry and note that the late J. Reuben Clark (international lawyer, statesman, LDS Church leader) was opposed to graduate degrees being offered at Brigham Young University. I know this from materials I read while attending the J. Reuben Clark Law School at Brigham Young University.

A Day In the Life

Here was my outside-of-apartment Sunday. 8:45 am - - Leave apartment to pick up Seth at his dorms at Brandeis. Read while waiting for Seth. 9:30 am - - Pick up Mike at his apartment in Waltham. 9:45 am - - Arrive at the LDS chapel on 2 Longfellow Park, Cambridge, MA. 10:00 am - - Attend Priesthood meeting on basic gospel principles and ordinances. 11:00 am - - Attend a Sunday School class on temples and family history. 12:00 am - - Attend a Sacrament Meeting. The talks are about gratitude. 1:10 pm - - Home teach a sister in one of the classrooms at the chapel. 1:30 pm - - Leave chapel and home teach a sister in Newton. 3:00 pm - - Drop off Seth at Brandeis, drive to Somerville. 3:30 pm - - Eat dinner with singles at the home of a sister who organized a dinner. I brought soda and pecan pie. 5:30 pm - - Arrive back at apartment.

Haircut

I got my hair cut today. My first recollections of haircuts was when my Dad would drive my brothers and I to a barbershop at Belleview and Broadway in Littleton. We'd get a "butch" every time. I loved rubbing my head over and over again after getting a butch. Gabe, a high school friend of mine with whom I worked as a contruction laborer, claimed to have told his little brother that getting your hair cut really hurt - - the little boy was then terrified when his parents hauled him off to the barbershop. Gabe also claimed to have told his little brother that dirt tastes like chocolate . . .

Banana Republic

Since I arrived in Novell's Waltham office in January of 2005, there has been only one regular who shows up at the Fitness Center before 5 am, and within the last few months only one other who is there before about 5:30 am - - the latter individual would be me. Well, I have not made it to the Fitness Center since Monday of this week, but I have been told that some individual has started showing up at the gym during these same early hours. All my workout buddy and I know is that this interloper carries his gear in a bag emblazoned with a Banana Republic logo. We don't like this development. Not one bit. This displeasure brought to mind a story I had heard of a man's experience when he first moved to the eastern United States. I searched high and low for the actual reference and text, I had about given up, but at "press time" one more search idea occurred to me. I found the article in which the man shared his experience, and have reproduced the relevant portion below, which comprises the remainer of today's entry. MAGAZINE ARTICLE EXCERPT Once when I was working in California, I was offered a job in New York City. My employers told me people didn’t care about each other there. I couldn’t believe people could live the way they described. It made me want to go to New York City just to prove them wrong. But after six months working there, I was ready to concede my California friends were right. Then I decided I hadn’t made much of an effort myself. So I started a program to find out if New York City workers were really human. I lived in Scarsdale, about a 45-minute train ride from New York. The train ran exactly on schedule. I started noticing the habits of the commuters. They would leave home at exactly the same minute each morning, walk to the station, buy a New York Times, walk to a certain board on the platform, fold their paper, stand on that board until the train arrived, get on the same car, find the same seat, and read their newspaper all the way into Grand Central Station. They would never speak as they traveled their various routes. I decided the only way to get to know them was to break the routine. I selected a man I thought I would like to get acquainted with, and after observing his routine for a few days, I planned a counter-routine. I arrived at the station at about the same time he did. As soon as he started to walk down to his favorite board on the platform, I broke into a run and just beat him there, firmly planting my two feet on his favorite spot. This unnerved him so that he didn’t even unfold his newspaper. When the train arrived, I jumped on and took his favorite seat. He rode all the way into the city visibly disturbed. I believe I ruined the entire day for him. The next morning I repeated the same process. Then the most remarkable thing happened the third morning. When I arrived at the train platform, he was already there, firmly planted on his favorite board, reading his newspaper. I couldn’t help but laugh. He gave me a scowl, and then he couldn’t hold back either. I introduced myself as a new arrival determined to break the routine of a commuter. We had an enjoyable visit. We got on the train and talked all the way into New York. From then on, breaking each other’s routine became a game. We would race each morning for that favorite spot. Soon others noticed what we were doing, and before we knew it, there were three, then four, then five, then ten, all racing for that particular board each morning. The great friendships made then have endured many years. The cold New Yorker was just as friendly as anyone else. All you had to do was break through that city shell. (L. Tom Perry, “Good Friends,” New Era, Feb. 1993, 4 [entire article available at www.lds.org])

Walk Like an Egyptian

The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston has free admission Wednesday evenings and is open until 9:45 pm. In other words, this is a place for Greg Jones - - the operative attribute is "free." Yes, I was there just last night, and spent time at the MFA's permanent Egyptian exhibit. From my visit, I can tell you that those Egyptians were advanced for their times in many ways, but in some ways they were not. For example, their walking technique seems to have been somewhat archaic, and is now clearly obsolete in light of the way (most of us) walk today. They should, however, get credit for planning "ahead." Those Egyptians who could afford it were buried with a spare head (made of stone) in case their own head were damaged in their journey through the afterworld. During life, while sleeping, they would supposedly rest their head on the inside of a stone arc mounted on a base. Now, lest anyone underestimate (or "misunderestimate") the value of planning ahead, note that at this point I have no idea where I am going with this entry . . .

The Eavesdropper

"I would call myself intelligent, not smart. Because if I were smart, I wouldn't say half the things that I say." - - Statement by cafeteria patron in Waltham, MA.

Go Home!

That's what Judge Cullen Christensen told me one day. I had reported for work even though I was a bit under the weather. I mentioned to Zola, his clerk, what a kind man Judge Christensen was. "He just doesn't what you to get him sick!" she offered. "Go home" was the gist of the signal I received from the third base coach one day. I was a about a 150-pound high school freshman. My Church softball team was in an area tournament in Colorado. I was on third base, no one was on second. We either had one or no outs. The batter hit the ball straight to the first baseman, and I was surprised when the third base coach (Gordon Pierce) sent me home - - I'd been a football player since age 7, and had relatively little interest or experience in baseball and softball. I hesitated. Then I ran for home. Waiting there with the ball was a catcher who seemed to outweigh me by about 30 to 50 pounds. He seemed more than a little surprised when I did the only thing I knew how to do - - I ran him over. He stumbled and fell into the backstop, dropping the ball. I started walking to the dugout, where my teammates were going nuts. Lance Pierce, Gordon's son and a very competitive high school junior, had the presence of mind to tell me to go back and touch home plate. If I recall correctly, that may have been the winning run. The other team protested vehemently, arguing that what I had done had to violate one rule or another. I suppose the umpire must have had little sympathy when he took a look at me - - maybe he thought the catcher should have been able to have taken care of himself.

Yesterday's Plot Summary

Straight from the mouth of WWB (Waltham Workout Buddy): Whitney Houston, Kevin Costner. She's got the body, he's the guard.

The Dawn of Man

About 3:30 am I woke up. There had been rain. There was a loud and persistent "Drip . . . Drip . . . Drip . . . " outside of my groundfloor apartment bedroom. I had heard this before, from time to time, over a period of months. But today, like those primordial apes in Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey," I experienced a transitional moment. Some spark of intelligence, some inventiveness inspired me. Like my supposed forerunners, I scavenged from materials around me. With a side from a cardboard container of Famous Amos cookies I diverted the offending flow of water inside the drain spout. The nuisance of the drip was gone, I returned to my dwelling, and slept - - kind of.

One Whale of a Story

Today at Church we had a couple of lessons on family history. I was asked to share a few thoughts during one of the classes. I told of how I had made efforts to learn more about my Danish ncestors. I read a book called "Homeward to Zion" that tells how Scandinavian converts to the LDS Church emigrated from Denmark to Utah during the latter half of the nineteenth century - - that is when my ancestors joined the Church and went to Utah. I told of having traveled to Denmark with my parents to visit the land of my ancestors, including a specific town where they had lived. I told of having used the LDS website www.familysearch.org to identify a microfilmed scrapbook that seemed likely to contain information about my ancestors. I ordered the microfilm at the Cambridge Family History Center, and took interest in a story from their passage across the Atlantic. One day a whale came along and started pushing against the side of the ship. This put the ship in danger of capsizing. All the passengers were told to shift to the opposite side of the ship, which evidently averted the sinking of the ship. Finally some on board dumped a bunch of potatoes on the whale and, for whatever reason, the whale left. It turned out that my family already had a hard copy of the scrapbook, but the first time I read the story was on microfilm in Cambridge, Massachusetts after learning of the record through a Church website. Supplement (entered by Greg Jones on November 26, 2005). The following is an excerpt from a document entitled "BRIEF HISTORY OF MARY ANDERSEN PETERSON." Mary Andersen was the fifth child of ten children born to HAN ANDERSEN and MAREN JENSEN on 22 June 1856, at Bredstrup, Odense, Den. Her father rented land which consisted of 70 acres of timberland, on the beautiful island of Fyen, and was quite prosperous . . . On March 13, 1861 Elder H. K. Brown had the pleasure of baptizing Hans and Maren into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Two years later they sold nearly all their possessions and their rights to rent the land on the island, and on April 18, 1863 left Denmark with their seven children, also paying the passage for some friends that did not have the means to travel. They left Liverpool on April 20, 1863 on the ship John J. Boyd in company with 755 Saints under the direction of William W. Cluff. They were five weeks on the water. Mary was seven years old and told the following incident: One day a whale came up to the vessel and raised its head up, leaning against the boat. The Captain ordered all the people to go to the opposite side of the vessel so it would not tip over, then ordered some of the men to bring buckets of potatoes, which they poured into the whale's mouth until finally it slid back into the water and went away.

Saturday Eavesdropping

Saturday I flew from Salt Lake City to Boston - - well, actually Salt Lake City to Providence, Rhode Island to Boston. (We initially could not land in Boston because of fog, went to Providence for more fuel, and would have been off to Hartford, Connecticut had we not been able to land the second time.) Once in Hartford we would have either spent the night in a hotel or been bused to Boston.) Saturday morning I had taken a shuttle from Provo to Salt Lake City International Airport. On the way it occurred to me that I might emulate a feature from "The Student Review," a student-run paper not sponsored by BYU during my time there. The feature, called "The Eavesdropper," would report on snatches of conversations overheard on campus. In the shuttle, a passenger told a bit of his life. Technically, I may not have been eavesdropping. Judge for yourself - - I was seated behind him, his speech was not directed to me, but he spoke loudly enough that anyone could hear. He hold how he left Utah for the east in the early 1920s. There were 8 in his family, and they all made the trip in a single Model T. He said his family often remarked that "The Beverly Hillbillies" must have been based on them. During this journey they would stop near a stream each evening, and his mother would bathe the children in the creek (pronounced "crick"). Once back east, his family lived on the estate of the 6th wealthiest man in the world. I assume they were working there, apparently with horses being raised there, racehorses. He saw a beautiful horse they bought, and a man on the estate asked him to guess how much they had paid for the horse. My fellow passenger guessed $100,000, but was told the price had actually been $1,0000,000. I thought my eavesdropping on the shuttle had gone pretty well, so I continued my efforts through the day. Unfortunately, I was unable to pick up anything very remarkable after that, other than when I overheard one man say to another: "I'm going to go get some yogurt." At BYU, I once overheard a conversation I considered submitting for publication in "The Eavesdropper." A young woman with a cast on her leg, using crutches, approached the doors of the Joseph Smith Building - - home of BYU's religion department. A professor in a suit, with scriptures under one arm if I recall correctly, opened the door for the young woman. This may have been on a Monday morning. I believe the exchange between the two went something like this: Professor: Did you break that skiing? Young Woman: No. Professor: That's good.

Fifth Grade

As I finished my workout this morning, I recalled a story related by my fifth grade teacher. One of her students kept hitting himself in the head during class. She asked him why was doing that. "Because it feels so good when I stop," he said.

Time Zone

Richard, a friend of mine working in Utah at the time of this story, called some people in New York to set up a conference call. New York, of course, is in a time zone two hours ahead of Utah. I understand that conversation went something like this: New Yorkers: Let's have the call at 2 pm our time. Richard: How about at 10 am my time? New Yorkers: But that's lunch time for us. Richard: Bingo!

Workout Buddies

"Three demons. Woman attacked. Angel defends. Gets the `you-know-what' beat out of 'em. But in the end - - Demons 0, Angel 3." - - Typical of the greetings I receive from a certain regular at the Novell Fitness Center in Waltham. This individual works out on the elliptical machine starting at 5 am. He watches 30 minutes of news, then switches to whatever TNT is showing beginning at 5:30 am, and shouts his "greeting" to me as he continues his workout. This plot summary "greeting" is for an episode of "Angel." He has also provided plot summaries of episodes of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "The X-Files," as well as of movies such "Aliens." "President Jimmy Carter will be weighing in. A featherweight." - - Typical running commentary from a certain regular at the Novell Fitness Center in Provo. This particular statement was in response to Katie Couric's announcing that Jimmy Carter would be appearing on The Today Show to share his views on the recent nominee for the Supreme Court.

Supreme Court Musings

The Supreme Court has been in the news quite a bit lately. This brings several things to mind. In 1999 Conan O'Brien began making predictions of things that would come to pass in the year 2000 - - interestingly, he's never stopped, and just a few weeks ago I saw him making more predictions of what would occur in the year 2000. But back in 1999, he made this bold prediction: "In the year 2000 it will be discovered that the Supreme Court is nothing more than regular court with sour cream and tomatoes." Years earlier a co-worker of mine, Dave Wright, was embroiled in a campaign scandal arising out of his candidacy for the position of the Athletic Vice President in the student government at Brigham Young University. The matter was brought before the "BYU Supreme Court." One of the justices called him the most evasive witness in the history of the BYU Supreme Court. He apparently took it as a compliment. I feel free to mention Dave's name as the controversy was a matter of public record. My final story, while not a story about a supreme court, is, nonetheless, a story. At Grant Junior High School, in Littleton, Colorado, I had home room (a kind of study hall) in the classroom of my English teacher, Mrs. Morrison. There were 7 periods during the day, and I had my home room during 5th period. I had completed my homework for day, and noticed a film projector right next to my desk. I got up and studied the way the projector worked. I adjusted the lens all the way in, then all the way out - - I was surprised to see that by adjusting the lens all the way out, one could actually remove the lens. I put the lens back in. The next day I was sitting in Mr. Ribelin's shop class. We were all working on projects at our desks. Mr. McPherson, the assistant principal, appeared in the room. He went to Mr. Ribelin, whispered in his ear, and then they both looked at me. The next thing I knew, I was walking with Mr. McPherson to his office. On the way, he remarked: "I've seen you in the halls, I thought you were a nice boy." We got situated in his office. Mr. McPherson was seated at his desk. Above his desk, mounted high on the wall, was a large paddle (riddled with holes for reduced wind resistance and maximum velocity), the kind of paddle fraternities use to initiate pledges, the type that junior high school assistant principals use to . . . The following dialogue ensued: Mr. McPherson: Yesterday Mrs. Morrison wanted to show a movie in her 6th period English class. She couldn't do it because the lens was missing from the projector. Greg Jones: I didn't take it. Mr. McPherson: We know. But the girl who took the lens said she would not have known how to do it had she not seen you take the lens out of the projector yesterday, so we're holding you responsible. To say the least, I thought this result was a bit odd, but who was I to challenge it? Fortunately, the consequences of being held responsible apparently were nothing more than being told I was being held responsible (but who knows whether my tainted record surfaced when I had background checks when I applied for the Utah State Bar and for employment at the Utah County Sheriff's Department). Each time a president nominates a candidate for service on the Supreme Court, I have only one litmus test - - how would that person decide the case of Grant Junior High School v. Greg Jones?

The Flying Nun

“Something tells me we’re not in Kansas, anymore, Toto.” How many times have I heard Robin Williams borrow that statement Dorothy makes when she first finds herself in Oz? The expression does seem to “say it all” when it comes to what one often senses when traveling away from home. For example, it about sums up the thoughts I had when at age nineteen I found myself in Ezeiza, the international airport outside Buenos Aires, watching African men clad in tribal robes as they attempted to hail a porter by making otherworldly hissing sounds. Those familiar sentiments I have when experiencing the unfamiliar came to me again this morning at Logan Airport in Boston. I got up about 3 am, did a quick workout at Novell in Waltham, headed down to the airport, and entered the terminal a little past 5:30 am. I was on “autopilot.” As I was checking in at the Delta kiosk I was taken aback when I spotted a nun’s habit. The habit was comprised of a black robe and a very large white hat with stiff flaps that extended to the sides, folded inward again, then up and out - - why, this was a habit just like Sally Fields’ character wore on “The Flying Nun” television series! But it seemed the flaps on this hat were even larger than on the TV show. Just as I was about to take a second look to size up this scene, a scene I just possibly may not see on a typical day in Provo, I restrained myself. “Don’t stare, don’t gawk!” My lecture to myself was quite effective. I was doing well, but with my peripheral vision I noticed the nun’s face. “That is one manly looking, nun!” Fortunately, that is what I thought, not what I said - - I said nothing. I had managed to avert my eyes and maintain exemplary decorum. I had moved on, but then heard the nun speak to another passenger - - it seemed to me that the voice was rather deep for a nun. I mustered all of my sense of respect and manners, and was set to go on my way. But something had to give, and the relative silence around the kiosks was finally broken. “Hey Sister Annie, what’s the wingspan on that thing?!!” Such insolence! I looked up. The question had come from the young woman working the ticket counter for Delta, as she called out to her fellow employee, the “nun.” I will not soon forget my experience this Halloween at the Delta terminal in Boston.

Where Were You When the Lights Went Out?

A 1968 movie bore that title. Here's the plot summary from www.imdb.com: "When the Great Northeast Blackout of 1965 hit, millions of people were left in the dark, including Waldo Zane, a New York executive in the process of stealing a fortune from his company, and two people whose paths he's destined to cross, Broadway actress Margaret Garrison and her husband, Peter." A few years ago I went to Snow Basin with some friends. In this ski area east of Ogden, Utah, my friends snow-boarded, and I tried to snow-board. I was only able to turn one direction, which meant I could only traverse the slope by falling down each time around. Suddenly the ski lift stopped working - - the power was out. Everyone went to the lodge, and people started to leave when it became clear the power might not come back on for some time. A tree had fallen against a power line. I was a passenger in my friend's car. As we drove down the two-lane road, she suddenly lost control as the car began to slide on ice. I thought were going over the edde of the cliff, but we were saved when we collided with a truck. The irony was rich. We had hit the truck sent by the power company to restore eletricity to Snow Basin. I went to a stake conference session last night in Weston (NOTE: For my non-LDS readers, a "stake" is made up of about 6 to 8 "wards", and typically totals about 2,000 people. Every 6 months, there is a stake conference. There are several meetings, but the ones of greatest addendance are an adult session on Saturday evening, and a general session on Sunday). I pulled into the parking lot of a stake center in Weston, and was impressed at the darkness of the entire place. I entered the building, and learned that the power was out in Weston. Boston was hit by an early snow storm Saturday. In Weston a tree had collapsed, falling against power lines, knocking the power out. The entire two hour session was held in relative darkness - - dim lights powered by emergency batteries provided very little light. Someone retrieved a lantern from their car, and this was used to provide light for speakers at the pulpit. There was no sound system, so the speakers had to project their voices. We heard from a young man who had joined the LDS Church within the last year, a young woman who teaches seminary to youth each weekday at 6 am, a truck driver from Alabama who joined the Church in 1990 but only in the last two years became fully active, a young mother sharing her experiences with Church callings, and a stake leader. We sang congregational hymns and heard wonderful musical numbers from violinists, pianists, and two choirs. With no light with which to meaningfully view anything but the main participants, there was perhaps and enhanced focus on the music and the messages. It was a great evening, and I think the absence of electrical light actually helped us leave a little more englightened.

Blog Housekeeping

You may have noticed that I changed the blog title from "Greg Jones's Blog" to "The Greg Jones Blog." The new title is easier to say, let's me use the catchy acronym TGJB, and tested well with the focus groups we used. There may be a one or two other people out there named Greg Jones, and they may think it is presumptuous of me to call my blog "THE Greg Jones Blog" - - if concerns are raised, I will do my best to address them. Also, the URL for TGJB is www.livejournal.com/users/gsjones/. That can be a little hard to remember. Now you can also access TGJB at www.gregjones.org. When viewing the blog at www.gregjones.org you will see a register.com advertising banner at the bottom of the page (you guessed it, I registered www.gregjones.org at register.com, and URL forwarding is a "no charge" feature offered by register.com, and I am a fan of almost anything that is "no charge"). Rest assured, the editorial integrity of TGJB will not be dversely affected by my commercial relationship with register.com.

Pay It Forward

This movie could change your life - - or someone's life. Check it out.

Learning Stuff

Starting about a year ago, with lapses here and there (and everywhere?), each day I have tried to learn 1 or 2 things from the Dictionary of Cultural Literacy. In a future blog entry (can't do it now, got to get to work), I'll explain how this started. As a result of last night's effort, were I to appear on Jeopardy, I think I would do well with the folowing answers. A. The smallest state in the United States. Q. What is Rhode Island, Alex? A. A technical term for a type of psychosis, used informally to refer to split personality problems. Q. What is schizophrenia, Alex? Of course, that last one brings to mind some wonderful poetry recited by Bill Murray as the title character in "What About Bob?" "Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm a schizophrenic and so am I."

I Am Not A Journalist!

All of you who are acting as my confidential sources in support of my ongoing efforts to bring you the best insights on breaking issues, please realize that the law may not afford you the same protections as when you are acting as a confidential source to "journalists" working for newspapers, books, magazines, or print. See below. U.S. SENATORS INDICATE BLOGGERS NOT JOURNALISTS US senators indicated yesterday that a proposed law offering journalists special privileges might not be extended to Web loggers. The hearing came as politicians are weighing the Free Flow of Information Act. The current wording of the measure, proposed in identical form in the US House of Representatives, offers protection of confidential sources for anyone who "publishes a newspaper, book, magazine, or other periodical in print or electronic word." http://news.com.com/2100-1047_3-5902539.html

Are you the keymaster?

Interesting question. And I have an even more interesting answer. That answer would be "Yes." But only in a limited sense - - one of my current church assignments is to keep track of the keys for our meetinghouse. I am not a gatekeeper, nor am I the Gatekeeper (Zuul), but I have known a few gatekeepers. Just yesterday I went to set up an appointment with an executive - - I had a good-natured exchange with his assistant, expressly acknowledging my being subject to her great power and authority. And that interaction brought back a few memories, one of them somewhat like one of those flashbacks David Carradine's character used to have on "Kung Fu." After my second summer of law school I had an internship in a corporate law department in Chicago. This was a pretty blue collar environment, and the first day on the job my boss took me down to the huge company cafeteria, where one wall of the room was lined with vending machines. He bought me an ice cream sandwich, and sat me down for a talk. I've never forgotten one thing he hold me, which at the time seemed to have come out of nowhere. He essentially told me to treat my "support people" well throughout my career, that they are essential to anything you want to accomplish. Hmmm. I'll call this the "Chicago Doctrine." Right out of law school I was working in a courthouse. One day I stayed in the courtroom for lunch. I dutifully took about 5 or 6 phone messages, then handed them to the court clerk when she returned from lunch. She quickly looked at each, and threw all but 1 or 2 of them away. She saw I was somewhat taken aback, so she explained. She pointed to 1 message - - she had already returned the call. She went through the others, and advised that each attorney who left a message was a jerk (or words to that effect). Sounds like these attorneys had not treated my judge's clerk very well, and it affected what they were trying to accomplish. The Chicago Doctrine said nothing about how to treat a judge's clerk. So I added Addendum 1 to the Chicago doctrine - - treat the support people of others well also (some may argue that Addendum 1 was overly broad, that it should have instead stated "treat the support people of important other people well"). Now, I suppose these things should not have to be taught to anyone, they should be common sense, or common courtesy. But remember, we're dealing with lawyers here, on topics of this nature they may need to be taught carefully, using very small words. Later in my experience at the court, I pulled files for two cases. The documents were a mess. The same attorney was on both cases, but with respect to documents submitted by that attorney, the name of a case would be associated with one case number in one document, but in another document the case would be associated with the other case number. I took them to the judge. I stood there as he used his speaker phone to call the attorney. "We seem to have some confusion here," said the judge. The judge explained the problem. The attorney responded "I'm sorry judge, my secretary must have . . . " The judge cut him off immediately, interjecting: "I'm sure your secretary does fine work." How could the attorney respond other than the way he did: "Yes, Your Honor, she does. I must have . . . " Even with Addendm 1, the Chicago Doctrine would not have saved this attorney. So I had to add Addendum 2 - - don't blame your support people for your own mistakes. I wonder if there is some more general principle that one might follow, maybe I don't need the Chicago Docrine or the Addenda. Well, I can't imagine what that would be . . .

What the heck are you even talking about?

Building a case on circumstantial evidence can be dangerous. My case from today's "Sweet!" entry went sour when I received this message: "hey, I didn't post today's comment on your blog; you must have mutilple ND colleagues. However, I must point out that I do take exception when you refer to me as a `colleague'; I always thought you were in a league of your own. Trust me when I say you have no equal. Your exhibition of what constitutes good judgment is only tempered by your unique and elusive attribute of common sense. Colleague you say, I think not."

Sweet!

I refer you to the comment posted for my previous entry. It appears that none other than Napoleon Dynamite is now reading Greg Jones' Blog. Appearances, however, can be deceiving. I have persuasive circumstantial evidence that the comment was left by a certain colleague of mine. I loaned him my Napoleon Dynamite DVD last week. Since then, he has uttered the expression "Sweet!" a total of 15 to 20 times in speech or writing. His use of the term "Gosh!" is almost as frequent. I now call on every person reading this blog to make Napoleon Dynamite as broadly available as possible. Now, you may be confronted with an occasional setback - - I tell you now that when that happens, I will feel your pain. I took the clip of Napoleon Dynamite's appearance on David Letterman and shared it wth my international colleagues. With few exceptions, the Europeans gave it a thumbs up, as did most of our AsiaPac contingent. However, a young colleague from China carefully watched the clip, and then remained staring ahead without expression (in retrospect, the expression was eerily Napoleon-like). "Did you understand it?" I asked. She responded "I understood it. But it is not funny!" Devastating. But I carried on, sharing the DVD with a colleague who came to the U.S. when she was in the ninth grade. She enjoyed the movie a great deal. Her favorite character? Pedro!

Walter R. White Square

Have you ever had something named after you? A person, a place, a thing? One summer I was working as custodian for the LDS Church - - this was a paid position, and in the spirit of full disclosure, my father's lay, unpaid Church assignment at the time included physical facilities and the hiring of custodial staff. One bishop, Clarence Osborne, was unhappy with a huge patch of weeds near the parking lot of the chapel. I jokingly suggested to my father that he tell Bishop Osborne that we should simply leave the weeds there, and name the patch of weeds the "Clarence Osborne Memorial Garden." Imagine my surprise when I learned my father had actually shared that suggestion with Bishop Osborne. Bishop Osborne was not amused . . . On Saturday I participated in a huge Serve-A-Thon event in Boston. The City Year service organization deployed volunteers throughout the Boston area. My team was sent to New Boston Middle School on Columbia Road, and then joined a team that cleaned up a triangular piece of land at the intersection of Columbia Road and Ceylon Street. This strip of land is at the center of an intersection of three streets and beneath a train bridge. Our team found overgrown weeds, an abandoned car, numerous whiskey bottles, hypodermic needles, a discarded passenger seat of a car, two solidified bags of concrete, and variety of other refuse. After we had been working on the project for some time, I looked toward the opposite end of the area, and saw a marker indicating "Walter R. White Square." I am not sure who Walter R. White is, but I imagine he deserves a much better honor than being associated with what we hauled out of that intersection. Hopefully our efforts helped restore some dignity to the site, but I'm sure it is difficult to keep an intersection like that clean. Of course, Walter R. White appears to have been short-changed given that his square is actually merely a triangle - - maybe someone else will tackle that issue. Find information on the City Serve program at www.cityyear.org.

Sunday Night

I am grateful for the weekend I have just had - - a couple of parties and a couple of service opportunities Friday and Saturday, then Church meetings and activities today. I feel rested and strenghtened for the coming week. I've even taken an unplanned break from Greg Jones' Blog. I must acknowledge that each and every one of my loyal readers have been suffering as a result, but I'll be back tomorrow . . .

Remember the Titan

The following is an excerpt from the October 19, 2005 edition of the Wall Street Journal: "LOS ANGELES -- The last Lockheed Martin Corp. heavy-lift Titan rocket is set to blast off from Southern California later today, ending a storied, five-decade chapter in U.S. space history . . . The Titan IV, synonymous with American exploration of the heavens and guaranteed access to space for both the military and intelligence agencies, is slated to carry a large government spy satellite into orbit from Vandenberg Air Force Base before noon Pacific time . . . [Company] officials and dignitaries are poised to celebrate the effectiveness and reliability of the massive Titan IV and the 38 government payloads it has successfully placed in orbit . . . " So, we day goodbye to the Titan. Many of the engineers who worked on that project were at Martin Marietta's Waterton, Colorado plant. My dad was on of them. Many were the fathers of my classmates, friends, and teammates as I was growing up. If there were such a thing as a "geek detection meter," in my home town its needle would have been pegged to the right during those years (imagine a typical weekday morning, 4 or 5 male engineers, clad in polyester suits, pocket protectors firmly in place, Martin Marietta security badges strung around their necks, briefcases and sack lunches in hand, packing into a Suburban and car pooling it from Littleton to Waterton everyday, and the occasional madcap adventures when one of them might attempt to push the vehicle to the limits of its technical specifications). In Littleton the Titan program paid for a lot of groceries, school supplies, football uniforms, mortgages, braces, 501 Levi's, down coats, ski's, and hiking boots - - and certainly numerous sets of season tickets to the Denver Broncos, and even possibly tickets to a John Denver concert or two. I suppose I should mention other evidence of the influence of the Titan. That would be the Titan Manor Motel, a now run-down establishment that dates back to the 1960s and is located on a seedy stretch of Santa Fe Drive - - an image of a Titam missile is displayed promimently above its entrance. But I think my first exposure to the word Titan was not of the missile. The Metsker family, also a Martin family, lived next door to us when I was three years old. The name of the family dog? Titan, of course.

Fishin' and Wishin'

My younger brother Doug has, at times, demonstrated somewhat of a penchant for calling in to talk radio shows. One afternoon, when we were in high school, I found him on the phone in a lengthy, leisurely, on-air exchange with Donnie Walsh, then head coach of the Denver Nuggets, and since then a long-time executive for the Indiana Pacers of the NBA. On another occasion, a Thanksgiving afternoon, with some insidious prompting from me, using a disguised voice, Doug called Alan Berg's show for a rules-breaking, second-call-in-one-day conversation. As the second, feeble-voiced caller, Doug offered support for an earlier, youthful caller (i.e., Doug) that had criticized the Denver Broncos' defense for contributing to a loss to the Detroit Lions. When the abrasive Berg had surprisingly reached the point of agreeing without being disagreeable, Doug revealed his true identity, Berg became furious, and then directed his staff to ban Doug from the show. (Some years later Berg died tragically - - white supremacists gunned him down in the driveway of his Denver home. Berg had conducted numerous talk shows denouncing the views of racist groups, and at one point even had an on-air confrontation with David Duke, then Grand Imperial Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, later a representative in the Louisiana legislature. My father, sister, and I had actually met Berg on one occasion after my sister spotted him exiting his car at the Cinderella City shopping mall in Englewood.) A few years ago, Doug was up late at night listening to a nationally broadcast talk radio show called "Fishin' and Wishin.'" My brother knows next to nothing about fishing (i.e., he knows about what I know), but the host of this show was begging for callers (Doug made a tape of this, I've heard the tape, and the man was a tad bit desperate). Doug called in, and proceeded to concoct some fantastic yarn about Utah County being in an uproar over the "Great Carp Bait Controversy," with members of the community outraged that individuals were cutting up carp from Utah Lake and using the cut-up carp as bait. The host was astonished, he remarked that carp are trash fish, that it is common to cut them up and use them as bait, how could this be? Doug readily agreed with the host, but Doug was just reporting the facts, and Doug ran with that story for 15 minutes or more, and somehow the host missed a telling moment when Doug was unable to contain his own laughter. But the host was just dying for an audience, and he was not going to let go of the only caller he might have during the course of that long, long night . . .

Less Is More

"Brevity is the soul of wit." William Shakespeare

Day Two

Oh, the daily grind of blogging. What a heavy responsibility, what a toll it takes. I intended to write last night, but I'll have to do a quick entry as I start my work day. I would have to say that I am satisfied with yesterday, the first day of my blog experience. I let a select group of sophisticates know I was keeping a blog, people who have no personal connection to me whatsoever, and it seems that something in my blog resonated with them. Admittedly, the response was mixed. Some readers offered the same level of unbridled enthusiasm that proved to be the downfall of Billy Mumphrey, while others offered suggestions on editorial direction and content. One individual suggested that my personal life is so devoid of substance that I would need to purchases stories from a co-worker known for his passion for life. Another person asserted that the first two comments had surely been posted by none other than myself and one of my friends. On day one, I received responses from readers in Asia and North America (including from 3 different states), and I will attempt to make Greg Jones' Blog known in other geo's through use of my extensive network of international friends and acquaintances (right . . . ). Because I chose to comment on a movie on Day One, some may have concluded that this is a movie review blog. Well, it is not that. But, if not that, what is it? To answer that question, I would draw your attention to the streets of Boston, Massachusetts. I have been spending about 3 weeks a month here since January 2005. Getting lost on the roads here is a rite of passage, but perhaps a rite that never ends. I'm not sure what they did before having the Internet and web services like mapquest. The roads are a veritable labyrinth that only Daedalus could navigate. One road atlas for Boston explained that one merely has to understand the type of road system that exists in Boston. You see, the road system is "organic," it evolves, it lives, roads come into existence, morph, expire over time, depending on forces from within and without the system. Well, this blog will be an "organic blog." We'll see where it goes. As I said, I need to get to work,so just a couple of other thoughts for the day. I mentioned Littleton, Colorado yesterday, To any extent that I grew up, I grew up in Littleton, a suburb of Denver. Sunday, the Denver Broncos beat the New England Patriots by the score of 28 to 20. I am here in Waltham, just outside of Boston, this week. So, yesterday I, with no subtlety, mentioned to a co-worker (and hopefully friend) that I am from Denver. There was a brief moment when I saw my life flash before my eyes. After some moments of disconcerting silence, she called out to my boss, saying "When is Greg going back to Provo again?" I have a way of not learning lessons. I was visiting friends in Chicago during the glory years of Michael Jordan (and the Chicago Bulls). After watching the Bulls pull out some great victory on TV, I made the mistake of mentioning why I liked Michael Jordan better earlier in his career. Mind you, I did not even say I did not like him, just that I used to like him even more. Suddenly I felt very vulnerable and alone as I had drawn everyone's attention and all conversation had stopped. Oops . . . Finally, at my Church I came upon a book called "Marathon of Faith." The book was about Rex Lee and his wife. Rex Lee was the founding dean of the BYU Law School, Solicitor General of the United States under Reagan, and the president of BYU. He died early, from cancer. I was fortunate enough to take two semesters of constitutional law from him. he was brilliant, enthusiastic, intellectually challenging, funny, great. When we studied from the case book, at times he would matter-of-factly say "What we were trying to do in this case was . . . " Once, when studying for a final exam for his class, I could not reconcile my notes with the case book. I went to his office. He was working at the computer, but when I entered he turned his chair and gave me his full attention. This may have been the only one-on-one contact I had ever had with him, and ever would. He answered my question with the same energy and clarity he would in this class discussions. I was impressed, and grateful. I later shared this experience with a former BYU Academic Vice President, and he was not impressed by my story at all, Rex Lee did what every professor should do, I was told. That's right, he did what every professor *should* do. I remain impressed.