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?