Personality Parade

Tonight I went to an activity in which people were supposed to taken a version of the Color Code Personality Test. You can learn about it at www.thecolorcode.com. According to this system there are four basic personality types - - red, blue, white, and, yellow. I've had occasion to take this test a few times over the past several years, the tests consistently yield the same result, and the results ring true for me. You can take the test for free at the website. Try it out. See what insights you might learn about yourself, about others, and about the way you relate to other people. If you enjoy this, you might try the Myers-Briggs approach as well (See www.personalitypathways.com). Myers-Briggs has 16 personality types. We once took the Myers-Briggs test at work, and a colleague posted the test results for each individual on his office door for ease of reference. Note: This relates to an experience I had on March 11, but I wrote and posted this on March 27 and 28, 2006.

Simon Says

The dean of the law school warned us. He warned us that as our legal education progressed we would become very discriminating listeners, that we would become expert at spotting flaws in our classmates’ remarks as our professors grilled them in front of the class, and that for a time we might fail to appreciate talks and lessons in Church as our minds would be drawn to imperfections in the logic or other aspects of the presentations. His warning was warranted, for it described my experience perfectly. Today, years after law school, I sat in a Church meeting in which a member of the congregration sang a solo musical number. I found myself asking what Simon would have to say about this performance - - my mind had been conditioned by a few recent viewings of American Idol. Note: This relates to an experience I had on March 11, but I wrote and originally posted this on March 27, 2006.

Chick Flick Festival

The long-awaited festival occurred tonight in my condo. Present were 3 guys (including myself) and 3 “chicks.” The women brought a few movies to choose from, and we watched “Return to Me.” A highlight occurred when everyone settled in to watch the movie. One of the women pulled out a miniature package of Kleenex, opened it, and then had it available for all to use - - before the movie even started. Another highlight was the frequent use of the Kleenex. Note: This relates to an experience of March 11, but I wrote this on March 26, 2006, and posted this entry on March 27, 2006.

Payson Place

An LDS stake in Payson, Utah held a clinic this Saturday morning for Spanish-speaking members of the community. The majority of the clinic provided various health care services, but the clinic also provided information on English classes, employment services, and legal help. I was one of four people on the legal panel. My friend David was on the panel – he is the city attorney in Payson and learned Spanish on a mission to Puerto Rico. An attorney from a Salt Lake City firm, who also learned Spanish on his mission, was also there. Maria, another panel member, is a licensed attorney in Bolivia. Surprisingly, not on person asked for help with intellectual property or software licensing issues, so I was of minimal help. This was the first time the clinic had been held, but it was well attended and the participants seemed to enjoy the event. Note: This relates to an experience of March 11, but I wrote this on March 26, 2006, and posted in on March 27, 2006.

Hoop Dreams

The basketball court of Littleton’s Grant Junior High School was formerly the school’s swimming pool. The court was undersized, the bleachers at the floor and balcony level came right up to the edge of the court, the backboards at each end were affixed directly to the walls. Our uniforms were old, worn out, and - - purple. I rode the bench during a home game in which our team was being routed, but the bleachers were still full. Toward the end of the debacle my coach put me into the game. I got the ball at about mid-court, took the ball just inside of where the 3-point one would be today, let the ball fly, and hit nothing but net. The home crowd erupted in cheers, certainly asking themselves why this player had not been put in the game earlier. I soon had the ball again, got to the same spot from which I had shot the ball before, let the ball fly, and hit - - nothing. It was an air ball! The fans had their answer . . . This is one of the memories that was triggered as a result of my visit with my younger brother tonight. As we ate dinner in a Chili's restaurant in Salt Lake City we recalled our time at the Federal Youth Detention Center just west of Denver. Well, we were there just once or twice to participate in a sports competition hosted at the facility. Our all-white Church basketball team from suburbia encountered an all-black team of detainees in a memorable matchup. We had some pretty good athletes on our team, but the detainee team was formidable. Early in the game I got the ball on the wing, to the right of the top of the key, and saw an opening to the basket. I drove toward the basket, and a couple of opposing players closed in on me. I jumped toward the basket, rotated in midair to avoid getting my shot blocked, and with my back to the basket banked in a two-handed shot. I’m sure our opponents concluded they needed to keep an eye on me. We were routed, and I don’t believe I made another shot. This same Church team would play its Church league games on Saturday mornings, and from time to time would have a practice during the week. We had a number of non-LDS friends from school that would play on the team with us. These cross-cultural exchanges were fruitful in several ways. Our friends would make some humorous, at times irreverent, observations about our fellow Church members or even our religion. At times we got to learn about their religions. While riding in the car of one of my friends, I came across some printed lyrics for songs he would sing with his church group: “Give me gas in my Ford, keep me trucking for the Lord . . . Give me gumption in my unction, let me function, function, function!” These friends were typically some of our best players as well. My younger brother was on the team. In Junior High School or so, he began to part his hair down the middle, and he wore his hair that way for quite some time. One day, as I observed the pronounced nature of the part in his hair, I told him it looked as if he had parted his hair with a blowtorch. He thus acquired the nickname of “Blowtorch,” which was often shortened to “Torch.” During games, when Doug was on the floor, teammates would call out “Blow Torch” or “Torch” to him, which must have sounded somewhat odd to our opponents. Doug had grown quite tall (6' 3" or so) during High School, and had developed a rather unusual jump shot. At the time the Denver Nuggets had a player named Anthony “Woosie” Roberts, who had won the NCAA scoring title while at Oral Roberts (sadly, Woosie died at a young age after his NBA career). Doug’s shot was similar to that of Woosie in that it involved an unorthodox windup in which the ball is taken back by the right side of head, but I’m not sure how far the similarities went beyond that. Paul, one of our non-LDS teammates and an excellent player, had somewhat of a crackly voice that he often used to whine when lamenting one irritation or another - - we nicknamed him “Froggy” after a frog-voiced character from the Our Gang or Little Rascals series. From time to time, when Blowtorch would rise for one of his unorthodox jump shots, Froggy would plead “Don’t Torch-er me!” The term "unorthodox" could be applied to certain aspects of my game as well. During one of our Saturday morning games I found myself at mid-court. I felt at home there, I could see all of the action in front of me, just like when I would play free safety in Little League or High School football. I was never really a basketball player, I suppose, but a football player trying to act like basketball player. This particular season our coach was Lance, a high school basketball player and only two years older than I. Lance lived and breathed sports, especially basketball. So there I was, at mid-court, an opposing player had gotten behind me, and he was streaking toward the basket. I heard Lance yell “Get him, Jones!” I turned, established my angle of pursuit, and intercepted the player just inside the key as he was preparing to shoot a lay-up. The ball never got anywhere near the basket - - I had plowed into the player, relying on a technique I had used to break up many a pass on the football field. My opponent was uninjured and amused, the officials were outraged, Lance was speechless, and I was ejected. Oops. I later learned that the next day, Sunday morning, the local Church leadership council (the High Council) had seriously considered kicking me out of Church sports. When one of our LDS teammates, Mark, was about 15 or 16 years old, he officiated a game in the deacon’s basketball tournament (deacon’s are typically young men who are 12 or 13). As a player, Mark had possibly earned a technical or two, and may have even been ejected from a game. Not surprisingly, the crowd at a deacon’s basketball game would be comprised primarily of parents and siblings, and during the course of this particular game Mark had made some calls that had some of the parents up in arms. As the LDS Church has a lay clergy, most of the parents held local Church positions of one sort or another. One of Mark’s most vocal critics during the game was a man who was in a local Church leadership position of some kind, possibly on the High Council. I was not present during the game, but the following day my friends and I were greatly amused to learn that Mark had ejected the man from the gym! Note: I had dinner with my brother on March 10, in which we spoke of some of our basketball memories, and I wrote this entry on March 24, 2006 and March 25, 2006.

Gidget

Today I was visiting with a co-worker about my upcoming Chick Flick Festival. She was a Southern California surfer as a young woman, which may be why she told me about the Gidget movies of the 1960s. Now who could resist seeing a movie that has characters named Gidget, Moondoggie, Stinky, Hot Shot, and The Big Kahuna? Here is some information from Wikipedia. Gidget is the nickname of Frances Lawrence, a teenage character adapted for film and television from a novel by Frederick Kohner. The original Gidget was created by Kohner in his 1957 novel Gidget, The Little Girl With the Big Ideas, written in the first person and based on the accounts of his daughter Kathy of the surf culture of Malibu Point . . . In the late 1950s and early 1960s, the character Gidget was adapted for three films, all directed by Paul Wendkos: · Gidget (1959), starring Sandra Dee. · Gidget Goes Hawaiian (1961), starring Deborah Walley. · Gidget Goes to Rome (1963), starring Cindy Carol. NOTE: I had this experience on March 9, but wrote this entry on March 24, 2006.

The Power of Suggestion?

I ate at a cafeteria today. As we grow up most of us come to realize when we need to wash our hands. In a part of the cafeteria where workers prepare or serve food there was a poster that described just those types of circumstances, and in prominent text stated "Think about washing your hands." NOTE: I had this experience on March 8, but wrote this on March 24, 2006.

Street Rep

If there are any among my vast readership who read my February 24 entry and went away believing I am an easy mark, they need to think again. Today I entered a conference room we had scheduled for a meeting, but others were already in the room. I asked what they were doing there, a jaded man looked at me from behind the screen of his notebook computer, and then dispassionately asserted that his group had scheduled the room through the next thirty minutes. I looked at his impassive eyes, and concluded he was not going to say another word. I quickly checked the online schedule for the building, and saw that my group was the only group scheduled for the room. I so advised the man, he sensed my resolve, and the intruders departed without further incident. Note: I had this experience on March 7, and posted this writing on March 22, 2006.

A Conundrum

I recently concocted a hypothetical situation that I have posed to several single women, and I have been surprised at their near-inability to grapple with the question. The hypothetical is admittedly derived in part from a Seinfeld episode in which Jerry and Elaine arrange a blind date for George and a friend of Elaine. The hypothetical is something like this: Suppose you know two men, you approve of both of them, you find them attractive, you are very interested in them, and they are very interested in you. However, it seems the two men are identical in every way, so you find it impossible to choose between the two. As you struggle with your need to make a choice, you learn that the two men are different, but in only one way - - one can jump significantly higher than the other. Which man do you choose? Why? Note: This relates to an experience of March 6, but I posted this on March 22, 2006.

Customers who bought this also bought

A counselor in the bishopric of my LDS ward recommended a book titled “Yearning for the Living God: Reflections from the Life of F. Enzio Busche.” The book is authored by F. Enzio Busche and Tracie A. Lamb, the latter having edited the book. I looked up the book at www.amazon.com and pulled up this description: F. Enzio Busche, emeritus member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, was born in Germany in 1930, three years before Hitler's rise to power. Fifteen years later, when World War II ended, Enzio was a prisoner of war, having been drafted into the German army at age fourteen. The war left Enzio with many questions: Is there a God? What is the purpose of life? What happens after death? In time, he learned the answers. "Yearning for the Living God" is a collection of Elder Busche's experiences - both before and after his conversion - and an account of the life-changing awakening that can come to all who search for truth in this world. Amazon also provided a list of books under the heading “Customers who bought this also bought.” I was surprised by one book on the list, but I don’t know whether you would be. The books listed were: * "Joseph Smith : Rough Stone Rolling" by Richard Lyman Bushman (note: Joseph Smith was the founder of the LDS Church) * "By the Hand of Mormon : The American Scripture that Launched a New World Religion" by Terryl L. Givens (note: LDS Church members believe that the Book of Mormon is scripture) * "The Peacegiver: How Christ Offers to Heal Hearts and Homes" by James L. Ferrell (note: the full name of the LDS Church is “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints") * "David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism" by Gregory A Prince (note: David O. McKay was the 9th president of the LDS Church) * "Runny Babbit: A Billy Sook" by Shel Silverstein (note: the review by Amazon notes that this book is for children ages 7 to 12, that Shel Silverstein is a children’s poet who created “Where the Sidewalk Ends” and “A Light in the Attic.”) NOTE: This entry relates to an experience on March 5, but was posted on March 22, 2005.

Stream of Consciousness

Thoughts that crossed my mind during tonight’s Utah Symphony program titled “Echoes in Aqua,” featuring Mozart’s “Water Music” and Ralph Vaughn Williams’ “A Sea Symphony:” . . . a bass violinist is chewing gum . . . where does a conductor learn all of the little gestures that go along with taking a bow . . . this Ralph Vaughn Williams guy has pretty pedestrian lyrics to go along with his music . . . part of this thing sounds kind of like the Village People’s “In the Navy,” but not as good . . . wait a second, according to the program notes the lyrics are entirely taken from the works of Walt Whitman . . . in my home town there is an elementary school named after Whitman, but his works still seem pretty lame . . . one of the male violinists has long hair like a rock star, weird . . . the vocal soloists are staring straight ahead without expression except for when they sing, what are they thinking about . . . hey, I get it, “Water Music” and “A Sea Symphony,” there is kind of a water theme to all of this . . . when are vocalists expected to memorize everything, and when can they get away with just reading everything, like they’re doing tonight . . . there is not one catchy tune in all of this . . . NOTE: This entry relates to experiences I had on March 4, but was written on March 21, 2006.

1978 / 1982

I went to party tonight, and in the home I came across a DVD of the 1978 World Cup. When I arrived in Argentina as an LDS missionary in October 1980 I began to appreciate the fact that Argentina had hosted and won the World Cup in 1978. The luster of that triumph was part of the atmosphere. In Argentina very few missionaries had cars, and none had bicycles. The vast majority of us would walk, and that is how I grew to know Argentina, walking in the coastal resort cities of Necochea and Mar Del Plata, then the small town of Choele-Choele along the Rio Negro at the northern extreme of the Patagonia, after that the city of Cipolletti a few hours further west, and finally in Santa Rosa, the capital of the province of La Pampa in central Argentina. As I walked through Argentina I became a bit more immersed in Argentine culture with every step - - the unique cadence and rhythm of castellano (the Argentine brand of Spanish); delicious foods such as empanadas, gnocchi’s, and asado (the Argentine barbeque); the European heritage that permeates so much of what is Argentina; a military willing to assume a governing role at times; a national folklore evoked by gauchos, the herbal tee called “mate,” and folkloric music; and the national passion for "futbol." When we walked into stores we’d often see posters of the championship team posted on the wall behind the cashier or displayed under a sheet of glass at the counter. We’d see the same posters in homes. On occasion we’d be in someone’s home and catch some soccer on TV. The star of Diego Maradona was rising, but the heroes from 1978 had not disappeared. The wealthy and powerful Buenos Aires soccer club of River Plate boasted at least three of them - - Jaime Fillol, Mario Kempes, and Daniel Pasarella. I was growing to better appreciate the triumph of 1978, when April 1982 arrived. Within a matter of weeks the Argentines would suffer a military defeat in a very brief war over Las Islas Malvinas (The Falkland Islands) and would stumble at the 1982 World Cup in Spain. A national magazine ran a cover story that I could not have appreciated before coming to Argentina. The photographs of two men were on the cover - - Galtieri and Menotti, respectively the nation’s president and the coach of the national soccer team. The headline read: “Argentina, La Historia De Una Gran Nacion Que Casi Fue.” In English: “Argentina, The History of a Great Nation That Almost Was.” NOTE: This entry relates to experiences I had on March 3, but was written on March 20, 2006.

Equal Time

Tonight I heard a speech on preventative health, which was focused in large part on diet. Our speaker emphasized buying (and eating) fresh fruits and vegetables, different vitamins and supplements, and so forth. I am sure all of this was sound advice, but afterward wondered whether I should have asked if she would welcome a contrasting view, and if receptive I could have offered insights such as: “You’ve had a long day. You have a pan of fudge brownies with walnuts on your kitchen counter, and a package of mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer. I’d recommend you put a big brownie in a bowl, place a couple of large scoops or mint chocolate chip ice cream on the brownie, and then enjoy! You may even want to have a second helping!” NOTE: I had this experience on March 2, and wrote this entry on March 15.

To Make A Search of an Area for Somebody or Something

I met with the Scouts tonight, about 4 young men ages 12 and 13. Tonight the scoutmaster helped the young men work on their Citizenship in the Community merit badge. This included an activity in which the scouts needed to identify key community buildings on a local map. None of them knew the location of the police station, which is located in downtown Provo. They also did not know which direction was north. I attempted to orient the scouts by calling out some well-known landmarks. I referred them to I-15, a major interstate that runs through Provo - - the name meant nothing to them. I then mentioned “Utah Lake,” which is one of the most prominent features of the valley in which we live. This name also meant nothing to them. I was amazed, but then began to question whether I would have been any more aware of my community when I was there age. I honestly don’t know. NOTE: I had this experience on March 1, and wrote this entry on March 15.

How Ironic

Someone once gave me a thank you note for something. I casually placed that note on a piece of furniture at the side of my bed. I kept it there for a couple of years but from time to time it would fall on the floor. As I had grown to appreciate that note more and more over time, I recently moved the note to a safer place, and now I can find it nowhere. NOTE: I first realized the note was missing on February 27, and February 28 was likely one of those days I made a vain effort to find it. I wrote this on March 15, 2006.

Skiing Memories

On this date I spoke to someone who works a day or two a ski season for a Utah ski area, and in return receives a ski pass for herself and a companion that she uses on many Saturday’s. We went skiing many times as I grew up in Colorado. We were rarely, if ever, able to go get free ski passes. My father was able, however, to get free ski gear for us. The Eskimo Ski Shop in Englewood had donated their obsolete ski equipment to the scout troop for our LDS ward. This gear included wood skis, cable bindings, and leather, lace-up boots. At some point the scout troop decided this gear should be thrown into the trash, but my father thought otherwise. For the next few years this gear became our gear, which led to many a misadventure. My younger brother Doug became an excellent skier. He made great efforts that included reading a library book or two on skiing. After reading one such book, he confided to me that he aspired to become a “novice” skier, which he understood to be someone who could ski all the way down the mountain without falling. Doug also would carefully wax these old skis in an attempt to exact any possible improvement in their performance. My father, my brothers, and I would frequently ski at the Keystone resort. Doug and I often skied together, though he was the much better skier. After a run on a trail with numerous moguls, we got on the ski lift, lowered the foot rest, placed our skis on the foot rest, and the tip of Doug’s right ski fell off. Doug skied the rest of the day on those skis, with no apparent drop-off in performance. NOTE: Members of my vast readership may have noticed that I fell behind in my blog entries a few weeks back, and that I have been attempting to retroactively post entries for those days. A colleague pointed out that a “web log” suggests currency, that the entries should reflect impressions I have on the date the entry is posted.. His point is well-taken, so I have persisted in my effort to make the belated entries, but have also posted a note explaining the actual date of writing as well as the date of the experiences that lead to those impressions. This entry is the best illustration of his point, as I report an experience I had on February 27, but it was only on March 15, 2006 that I reflected more on that day, which triggered some of the memories I shared in this entry. I am continuing my efforts to get current.

Like What?

Each month each family of the LDS Church is supposed to receive a visit from “home teachers,” a pair lay priesthood holders assigned to look after the welfare of one or more families. Each visit lasts about 30 minutes or so, and includes a lesson and prayer, as well as some chitchat. The chitchat part of home teaching results in some interesting moments. As I grew up in Colorado, we had a home teacher who had a tendency to share the most woeful tales of injury or suffering experienced by others, yet his accounts would be punctuated with laughter. One day, for example, he chortled as he told us of his wife injuring her knee when she fell down some steps in their home. We found this behavior to be fascinating. On one visit my younger brother Doug probed into the psyche of this man by appearing, poker-faced, with a neck brace which Doug had fashioned out of towel - - the “neck brace” Doug wore was perceived as real, and elicited laughter from our home teacher. Today I received a visit from a new pair of home teachers. One is a young man of 21 who just returned from his mission. In telling me about his various social activities, his narrative was sprinkled liberally with the word “like,” as in expressions such as “like that was really cool” or “like, what were we supposed to do?” At one point he said that he and a friend of his are “dating like girls.” Like, I think that “like” should have been placed one word to the left. NOTE: This entry relates to an experience I had on February 26, but was written on March 15.

The Alpine Hillbillies

Alpine, Utah is home to some well-to-do-families, and is also home to members of a blue grass band I heard tonight. NOTE: This entry relates to an experience I had on February 25, and was written on March 15, 2006.

Intellectual Property Summit Report

I attended a mid-winter seminar for intellectual property (IP) attorneys in Utah. The event was held at the Salt Lake City Marriott. I arrived a little early for the 8 am breakfast featuring a speaker on women in the legal profession. Before going to breakfast I staked out my claim to a key piece of property - - a back row seat on the aisle. I left a binder of seminar materials on the table in front of the seat, and I placed an envelope bearing my name on top of the notebook. I came back from breakfast and from doing some work in the hotel lobby. I was temporarily taken aback when I observed there was a competing claim to my seat! My notebook was still there, the envelope was now missing, and a heavy red sweater with a distinctive design was draped over the back of the chair. I had clearly been there first, but that sweater was an impressive marker. Was I up to the challenge? I was! I stood my ground, waiting for the interloper to appear. Some colleagues joined me, however, and I abandoned my claim to the back row seat to join them on another row. The issue was now moot. Throughout the day numerous presentations were given by some very sharp people. There was a panel that discussed "war stories." Not all of them were good storytellers, but two were. My favorite was from an attorney was was arguing a patent case before the Federal Circuit Court in Washington, D.C. A judge challenged him, asking how his client's patent could possibly be infringed by the defendant's product. The attorney explained the patent, and described the nature of the infringement. The judge replied: "Those are just lawyer arguments!" Now how does a lawyer respond to that? Perhaps the most impressive presenter of the day was a woman from a distant city, a young partner who spoke with great eloquence and credibility. During part of the presentation, in which she expressed a clever and aggressive approach to a thorny scenario, one of my colleagues enthusiastically exlaimed that she "rocks!" In a subsequent presentation a panel of four federal judges shared their views on patent cases, and took questions. From the back a woman rose to ask a question - - our earlier presenter was still in attendance. It occurred to me that she appeared to be seated in the back row, toward the aisle. At the conclusion of the meetings, I observed her walking down the hall, a now-familiar red sweater draped over her arm. NOTE: This entry relates to experiences from February 24, but was entered on March 15, 2006.

Wallet Woes

A friend saw my wallet tonight, was alarmed by its thickness, and on the spot gave me a wallet purchased as a gift for someone else. I tried to reject the gift, but was rebuffed. I was given the wallet along with some words of counsel, apparently taken from "The Prince" by Machiavelli. In English, the advice would be rendered "Divide and Conquer." NOTE: While this entry relates to an experience of April 23, I made this entry on March 14, 2006.

Everything I Ever Needed to Know I Learned on Television

Tonight I chanced upon Monty Python's "Philosophers' Football Match, in which Greek philosophers take on German philosophers." Here is part of the play-by-play: Archimedes out to Socrates, Socrates back to Archimedes, Archimedes out to Heraclitus, he beats Hegel. Heraclitus a little flick, here he comes on the far post, Socrates is there, Socrates heads it in! Socrates has scored! The Greeks are going mad, the Greeks are going mad. Socrates scores, got a beautiful cross from Archimedes. The Germans are disputing it. Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics, Kant via the categorical imperative is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination, and Marx is claiming it was offside. (See www.canada.com/victoriatimescolonist/news/arts/story.html?id=3c023345-7c6c-4fd6-bf48-c5975acc0dff. Also, transcripts of the entire play-by-play and the actual video can be found on the Internet with a Google search. FYI - - KUED, the University of Utah's television station, has been airing installments of Monty Python's Personal Best. Installments 5 and 6 will air on Wednesday, March 15. The Philosopher's Football Match was from the Eric Idle instalment.) NOTE: This entry reflects experiences from February 22, 2006, but was entered on March 13 and 14, 2006)

That's A Stretch

A few years ago my back was so sore and stiff I would struggle to bend over to tie my shoes, but that would not stop me from playing soccer. I went to my doctor, whose initial suggestion, based solely on my physical condition since he had never seen me play, was that I should stop playing soccer. In July of 2005 I went for a 5 mile run comprised of running 4 laps around the apartments where I was living. As the apartments are situated on the side of a hill, this course, surprisingly, included a significant amount hill running - - both uphill and downhill. After about 1 mile my right hip began to hurt a great deal, but I persisted. This January my third or fourth attempt to recover from that day failed - - in each attempt I rested the hip many days until there was no pain, built up my running speed over a period of several weeks, but would ultimately re-injure the hip. I finally went to the doctor, whose diagnosis (of me) was tendonitis or bursitis in my right hip. He prescribed anti-inflammatories. In both of these situations my doctor also wrote a prescription for physical therapy. In both cases I was treated with ultrasound, electric stimulation, and stretching exercises. In the case of my back, it turned out that my problems resulted from very tight lower back muscles that kept the “SI Joint” from functioning properly, although my "CV Joints" remained unaffected. Stretching exercises would have prevented the problem, and now stretching exercises have prevented a recurrence. I’m in the middle of treatment for my hip, but so far so good. It turns out that the problem, not uncommon among runners (as well as those who run), is that the “IT Band” running from the hip area to the knee gets too tight, rubs against a bursa sac, and the rubbing results in bursitis. Stretching exercises are proving to be key to my recovery. So, all of this could have been averted had I never played soccer and never gone running, or had I stretched properly. Good thing I did neither, or what could I have written about today? NOTE: This entry relates to experiences of February 21, 2006, but was actually entered on March 13 and March 14, 2006,

I'll Take That As A Compliment?

On this Monday night I attended a Church dinner, an informal event in which individuals posed as servers and presented those of us who were "dining" with menus, then served food that bore no rational relationship with the name for the food that appeared in the menu. Some people got to dessert before I did, many of them received ice cream, but not one name on the menu suggested ice cream to me. I was a little late getting to dessert because I was shouldering more than my fair share of the conversation. As I write of my conduct at this dinner, I recall an exchange with a Sunday School teacher I had when I was about 14; he was a surgeon and cancer specialist who I respected a great deal. The exchange went something like this: Sunday School Teacher: Hey Detroit, be quiet and pay attention. Greg Jones: Detroit? Sunday School Teacher: Yes Detroit, because Detroit is the Motor City, and you are the Motor Mouth. This recollection triggers another memory, a memory of an experience I had when I was about 10 or 11. During our first Little League football practice of the season Coach Hansen was instructing the team about a drill we were going to do, at the same time I was excitedly chatting with a teammate, and then an exchange ensued. Well, I can't actually call it an "exchange." It went something like this: Coach Hansen: Jonesy, shut your mouth or I'm going to shove this ball down your throat. Now another memory has surfaced. During the first semester of my sophomore year in high school I was having a great time in honors history. We would joke around in class so much, and I always seemed to have the most clever things to say about (and during) the teacher's lectures. This triggered a reaction from the teacher. Like my experience with Coach Hansen, that reaction could not really be called an "exchange" either. In fact, it did not really involve my teacher speaking any words to me. I'm not sure how I received the message, but suffice it to say, I was not invited back to honors history for winter semester. Well, this brings me back to the dinner of Monday, February 20, 2006. I had regaled all at my table with humorous and entertaining anecdotes, so humorous and entertaining that I found myself enjoying them a great deal. Towards the end of my amazing performance, an acquaintance across the table from me, a woman from Korea, with deliberate English offered an observation that went something like this: Korean Woman: You are verbose . . . loquacious . . . eloquent . . . talkative . . . in a good way. NOTE: This entry relates to experiences that took place on February 20, but was posted on March 11.

High Plains Soccer

I was talking to some South American friends today. I'll pass on some sage advice for those of you who are not Bolivians and who may possibly find yourselves playing a World Cup qualifying match in Bolivia for your country's national soccer team. If you play in La Paz, the match will be played at about 12,500 feet above sea level (keep in mind that athletes complain about oxygen deprivation when playing games in Denver, where the altitude is a mere 5,280 feet). Soccer teams accustomed to playing at much lower altitudes have apparently discovered two effective tactics for dealing the altitude of La Paz. One tactic is to arrive in Bolivia one or two weeks before the match to allow the players to adjust to the altitude. The other approach is to arrive in Bolivia a few hours before the match, in which case the players seem to be unaffected by the altitude. NOTE: This entry relates to experiences that took place on February 19, but was posted on March 9.

Chick Flick Phenomenon

I visited with some friends after a party, and we began talking about Chick Flicks we like. This was not too remarkable for them, as they are "chicks." I impressed them quite a bit, however, by listing favorites such as "Kate and Leopold," "Notting Hill," "Anne of Green Gables," "Jerry Maguire," "Sleepless in Seattle," and "You've Got Mail." I had to confess that my amazing sensitivity has its limits. "Sleepless in Seattle" featured several clips from "An Affair to Remember," a movie starring Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. I taped the movie when it showed up on AMC's movie channel a few years back. I took out the tape, sat down to watch it, and grew increasingly restless - - nothing was happening, I mean nothing! I finally couldn't take it anymore, and turned off the TV. I'd met my match . . . NOTE: This entry relates to experiences that took place on February 18, but was posted on March 9.

No One Under 31 Admitted

On each of the first four Friday's of each month the LDS Church in Utah County holds a dance for single adults, age 31 and over (at times way over). I don't attend these "rhythmic ceremonial rituals" much, but tonight I had an assignment to help set up chairs and to assist with the all-important matter of refreshments. On those occasions when I have attended the dances, I have observed with interest a sign emphasizing that the dance is only for those 31 and over. Is there a concern that those under 31 have some burning desire to join in the fun and crash the dance? Would those selling the $4 tickets at the door actually "card" someone who appeared to be "under-age?" Tonight I had the opportunity to attend the pre-dance meeting where people were briefed on their assignments, and I learned that the "only 31 and over" policy is not actually enforced. So what is the purpose of the sign? The intended message is essentially this: Caveat Emptor. NOTE: This entry relates to experiences that took place on February 17, but was posted on March 9.

One Fin

Tonight I ate a quick dinner at food court of the Provo mall. I had some Chinese food from Panda Express, which is serviceable as a fast food version of Chinese food for Americans on the go, but which unbelievably has been recognized as Provo's best Chinese restaurant. I topped of this meal with a hot fudge sundae off of McDonald's one dollar menu. The entire cost of the meal was about $5.50 or so. I was reminded of a dinner group I belonged to while I was in school. There were anywhere from 6 to 9 people in this group at any one time. Each week each of us would put money into the pot, those who were to cook meals that week would then submit their shopping lists, those who were assigned to buy groceries would go shopping and stash what they could in the girls' apartment and the remainder in the guys' apartments, and this took care of dinner for Monday through Friday, perhaps even Saturday. The amount of money we each put in the pot each week was $5. NOTE: This entry relates to experiences that took place on February 16, but was posted on March 7.

Refreshments

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, there are certain basic aspects of the Church culture that become second nature after one has been a member for some period of time. Here are some examples. 1. We open and close each meeting with a prayer. 2. In our prayers, we should express gratitude for our blessings. 3. In our prayers, we should avoid vain repetitions - - we should mean what we say, not just utter meaningless phrases. We don't always achieve this, but this is something for which we should strive. 4. At meetings that have a social component, it is generally expected that some sort of treat will be served at the end. The official word for such treats is "refreshments." 5. When we express gratitude in our prayers, one of the things for which we should express thanks is food. 6. Generally speaking, refreshments qualify as food. 7. It is generally understood that when "sisters" bring refreshments, the refreshments will be delicious. 8. It is generally understood that when "brethren" bring refreshments, one should not expect the refreshments to be delicious. 9. In our prayers we should also ask for blessings. 10. In asking a blessing on food, people often ask that the food will "nourish and strengthen us." 11. Even when refreshments are delicious, or perhaps even moreso when they are delicious, refreshments by their nature could not necessarily be expected to "nourish or strengthen" anyone. As one considers these particular points of LDS culture, one might see that from time to time they will naturally come into conflict with each other. Take for example, elements 3, 8, 10, and 11. On the evening of Wednesday, February 15, I attended a "Combined Activity" of young men and young women ranging in age from 12 to 17. The young men had been assigned to bring the refreshments. At the conclusion of the meeting a young man name Sam, who is about 16- or 17-years-old, was called on to give the closing prayer. He happens to be the Bishop's son, the Bishop being the head of the local ward or congregation, though the Bishop was not in attendance. Sam came to a point in his prayer in which he said "Please bless the refreshments . . . " He paused in thought for some time, and then continued " . . . that they will be good." The youth were more than a little amused by Sam's predicament. We went out into the hall to "enjoy" refreshments comprised primarily of a single large plastic container of Red Vines licorice. NOTE: This entry relates to experiences that took place on February 15, but was posted on March 7.

Travel Ethics

Several years ago I went on a few business trips with a colleague - - I'll call him John Doe. When checking into a hotel he would say “Hi, I’m John Doe, and I’d like the IBM rate.” My colleague did not work for IBM, but it would not be unreasonable for the hotel desk clerk to infer that John Doe was an IBM employee, and the hotel would charge him the very low rates that IBM has negotiated for its business travelers. My colleague’s practice seemed a tad deceptive, and I asked him about it. His response: “It’s not dishonest. My name is John Doe, and I do want the IBM rate.” Today I flew from Boston to Salt Lake City. I was standing in line at the airport in Boston, waiting to go through security. A member of the security staff approached the lines of passengers asking “Anyone going to JFK?” People who responded “Yes” were allowed to go to the front of the line. I realized that I could accurately respond “Yes” as well . . .

Books

I returned to the Harvard Coop tonight. I have nothing to report, other than that there are still an awful lot of books in there. A colleague from work suggested there is something wrong when a book sitting on your shelf at home does not look as appealing as a book sitting on the shelf in a place like the Harvard Coop.

Vindication

My mind turned to my blog entry of February 5 as I read the following account of Oliver G. Snow, son of President Lorenzo Snow. “When in Oberlin, the following ludicrous circumstance occurred, which I will relate, though at my own expense. I was introduced to one of my father’s former college associates, by name Mrs. Bacon. Having formed a habit of associating an unfamiliar name which I wished to remember, with something familiar, I very naturally associated the lady’s name Bacon with hog; thinking that in the event of forgetting Bacon, it being so closely connected with hog, I could easily recollect it. But after spending a very pleasant evening in her house, on rising to take leave, I said, `I wish you good evening, Mrs. Ham.’ Although I realized my mistake the instant it was uttered, I made no apology, thinking `the apology might be worse than the offence,’ but concluded my plan was not so reliable as I supposed.” (Eliza R. Snow, Biography of Lorenzo Snow, p. 329-30)

Two Minute Drill

I went to an activity tonight. About 50 pairs of chairs were set up in a gym. Each woman took a seat, and each man took a seat across from a woman. An announcer told everyone that they had 2 minutes to visit, sounded an alarm after 2 minutes, the men shifted to the seat to their right, then the whole process repeated itself another 15 times or so. Everyone had received a slip of paper with sample questions. The idea apparently comes from a movie. The net of the activity was that I ran into a guy I knew growing up, and that a Ph D candidate in psychiatry recommended Victor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning” as the best one book to read for an introduction to psychiatry.

Walk the Line

I paid about $7.50 to see “Walk the Line” tonight.

The Cost of Freedom

You may have seen advertisements in Time or other magazines that trumpet the virtues of lamisil. The ads depict a hideous toe nail that has been infected with fungus, and the fungi are depicted as bright yellow, delighted, and devil-like devourers. Lamisil is a prescription medicine that is administered as pills. Apparently insurance companies regard toe fungus as a cosmetic issue, and don’t pay for a lamisil prescription except in extraordinary cases where the fungus presents significant health risks. Absent insurance coverage, a lamisil prescription costs $500. Fungus-free or $500?

Winter Camping

I have recently been called to serve as the assistant scoutmaster for the troop in my LDS ward in Utah. These young men are 12 or 13 years old. On the coming Friday and Saturday they will sleep in lodges at Maple Dell, a scout camp outside of Payson, Utah, and will also cross-country ski. I will not be joining them on this camp, but it appears that monthly campouts will be a part of my life for some time to come. I do not have many memories of the winter outings I went on as a scout. I recall one or two when we slept in a cabin or condo, and then went skiing the next day. Those trips were a treat since during a winter outdoor camp the most mundane of activities become major ordeals. Some harsh realities manifest themselves. Pitching a tent in the dark during a snow storm is no fun. Cleaning cooking gear in sub-freezing temperatures is no fun. Answering nature’s call in the middle of a mid-February night in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains is no fun. I’m not sure why, but other than in connection with scouting, I have never been on winter campout.

Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls with Icing, 12 oz

You can buy Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls at amazon.com. The kind that come in a cardboad tube with metal pieces at each end, and that you bake yourself. Really. Also, you can find answers to the following life-and-death questions at www.pillsbury.com/View/faq/pillsburysweetrolls.asp: 1. How long can I store unopened cans of Pillsbury® Grands!® Sweet Rolls? 2. Where should I store unopened cans of Sweet Rolls? 3. Can I bake some of the rolls now and save some to bake later? 4. Can I freeze the unbaked dough? 5. Can I freeze baked Sweet Rolls? 6. Can I microwave the unbaked dough? 7. Can I bake the Sweet Rolls in a toaster oven? 8. What is the best type of pan to use for baking Sweet Rolls? 9. What if I cannot find my favorite Pillsbury® Sweet Rolls product? To the untrained eye, the list of questions may seem comprehensive. Consider, however, the following hypothetical question: "What should I do if I am a bachelor, prepare a can of Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls, bite into one of them, and it seems that the bottom of the roll is extraordinarily hard?" Now consider the following answer to that question: "As you are a bachelor, you may doubt your cooking skills, among other things. Those doubts may lead you to believe that you have burned the rolls, and should just bite down harder on the roll to eat it. Cast those doubts aside, and stop for a second to inspect the roll. You may find that one of the metal end pieces of the tube packaging has stuck to the roll. If this is the case, separate the metal piece from the roll, discard the metal piece, and then proceed to eat the roll."

Medicine Men

One day in July 2005 I set out on a 5-mile run that included several hills. I completed the run in spite of steadily increasing pain in the area of my outer right hip and upper thigh. I had never experienced pain there before, but I was not going to let that stop me. Several months later I'm still living with the consequences of that glorious, gutsy, and regrettably moronic feat. Saturday I had my third setback after another effort to gradually build up my running on a treadmill over a period of several weeks - - so it's back to square one for me! And, for the first time, I went to the doctor. His diagnosis was tendinitis or bursitis. He prescribed rest and anti-inflammatory medication. Later in the day I went to the pharmacy. I handed them my prescription. "That will be 15 to 20 minutes," I was told. During the next 20 minutes I observed about 3 people pick up their prescriptions. I was also able to thumb through two runner's magazines (looking for clues as to how people who injure themselves can rehabilitate from their injuries), one Men's Health workout guide, and a car collector's magazine that included photo shoots of undiscovered collectible cars wasting away behind people's homes in rural locations. I had exhausted the magazines that were of any remote interest, looked over the display of best selling books (who is Nora Roberts, and what in the world is she writing about in all those books?), perused the store shelves for novel items such as a nifty black eye patch that might lend me a more a distinguished look, and confirmed that this pharmacy followed the standard practice of placing their most sensitive merchandise in plain view at the front counter, clearly as a courtesy to parents who will enjoy fielding questions from their inquisitive elementary school children. After all of this, I instinctively began the "I'm waiting for my prescription" shuffle, standing in place but moving my feet from side to side, combined with intervals in which I moved about within a small circular area. After having thus performed, albeit unwittingly, an essential element of this ritual in which I had been engaged, a pharmacist sprang to action, asked my name, pointed to another pharmacist standing at a shelf, and identified that pharmacist as the one working on my prescription. Within minutes they had called my name. The head pharmacist told me they had chosen to fulfill the prescription with a generic drug, that my co-pay would be $5, that I was to take 2 pills a day, should take the pills with food, and could have one re-fill - - my doctor had told me most of these things when he wrote the prescription. I later looked in the bottle. Sure enough, there were 60 pills in there. 60 pills that most certainly had not been manufactured at the pharmacy during the 20 minute wait. They had moved 60 pills from one container into another. 20 minutes. I knew what I had been doing, and I didn't necessarily suspect that the pharmacists had been dogging it, but I couldn't begin to imagine what they had been doing during those 20 minutes. But it was not for me to ask, and with the ceremony complete and my concoction in hand, I went on my way.

What A Flake!

At the Lincoln Day Dinner on Saturday evening, elected officials were serving hors d'oeuvres at the pre-dinner reception. Some of these treats had a light, flakey crust. I found them to be delicious. At one point during the reception I shared a clearly entertaining and humorous anecdote with two couples with whom I was visiting - - I know for a fact that this tale was a comedic hit because I found myself laughing uproariously. Somewhat to my dismay, during the course of my enjoyment, I perceived that a small particle of flakey crust had been propelled from the vicinity of my mouth in the general direction of one of the women, and I watched helplessly as the particle embedded itself on the left lapel of her suit coat. Disaster! Or was it? Could it be? Yes, no one else had seen the flakey projectile. But now the dilemma. Burdened with this knowledge, what was my duty? Should I confess my mishap to those present, then make some awkward attempt to remove the particle, thereby drawing unwelcome attention to my "victim," not knowing whether I could successfully remove all traces of the particle or not? Or, would a higher good be served were I to remain silent, counting on the odds that no one would detect the hors d'oeuvre fragment during the course of the evening, and not risk transforming the status quo of "no harm, no foul" into a full-blown scandal in which neither victim nor perpetrator would come out ahead?

Leftovers

Saturday evening I attended the Lincoln Day Dinner, a Republican Party fundraiser held at the ballroom of Utah Valley State College in Orem, Utah. There was much hobnobbing. I mingled with the crowd. At one point I engaged a state legislator in a discussion about some proposed legislation, and at one point asked him if here were a Democrat - - he was take aback just a bit, and I must confess that I apparently forgot where I was for a moment. I later shook hands with Senator Hatch. The post-dinner entertainment included a speech by Senator Bennett in which he extolled the newfound comic brilliance of Senator Hatch, which was to be shared with us several weeks after it was first served up back in Washington. His abilities came to the forefront at meeting of the Alfalfa Club. Senator Bennett gave us some background on the club, and here is a helpful entry from www.wikipedia.com: "The Alfalfa Club is an exclusive Washington, D.C. social organization, founded in 1913. The Club exists only to hold an annual banquet honoring the birthday of Civil War General Robert E. Lee. The club's membership, which numbers about 200, is composed primarily of American politicians and influential members of the United States business community, and has included several Presidents of the United States. Each member is permitted to bring two guests to the annual $185-a-plate dinner, held each year in January . . . One of the evening's activities includes the playful nomination of a presidential candidate by the Club's leadership. The candidate is then required to make a speech." This year's presidential "nominee" was Senator Hatch. In response to the introduction by Senator Bennett, Senator Hatch rose and began his account. He said he had prepared several jokes to share in his "acceptance speech," and that just after typing the last joke into his computer the phone rang. Vice President Dick Cheney was on the other end, and he informed Senator Hatch that he did not appreciate the last joke the Senator had just finished typing. Cheney then helpfully offered to share lists of Hatch's prescriptions, video rentals, and library loans for the preceding twelve months.

This Might Just Save Your Life

Here is a little gem you'll want to remember just in case . . . Longtime readers of The Greg Jones Blog will recall an entry recounting an experience of some of my ancestors who encountered a whale when they crossed the Atlantic ocean (By the way, I recently read a Spanish translation of a lesson on Noah's Ark in which the ark was compared in size to an oceanliner. According to the translation, the Spanish word for oceanliner is "transatlantico" - - that seems a bit unfair to the Pacific ocean, the Mediterranean sea, and various other aggrieved large bodies of water). A whale was pushing up against the side of their boat, so the captain instructed all to stand on the opposite side of the boat, and the whale departed after they dumped potatoes in its mouth. A few weeks back the world turned its attention to a whale that found itself trapped in the Thames river. A January 25, 2006 article in the Wall Street Journal commented on the episode, and included the following passage: ". . . whales are naturally inquisitive. Jonathan Swift recorded the proverb, `to throw a tub to the whale.' This was nautical custom to distract the bottlenoses from nudging the ship, by giving them something other to capsize."

Help!

Some of you may have not seen the comments posted by Hans on the January 28 entry. In his most recent comment, reproduced below, he raises issues that may be beyond my capabilities to address. I'd encourage you to share your insights by posting relevant comments. Remember that to my understanding Hans is a Dane living in Copenhagen and working in his father's print shop. If you can help foster international understanding, you may serve to better this world we live in. Re: Republic? (Anonymous) 2006-02-02 04:06 pm UTC (link) Danke for your reply Greg. You ask me how I think Republicans have all the babes in party, and I tell you. Republican Party is conservative party of people who were popular in school, like cheerleaders, footballers, and smart chess players. These popular kids will later gets lots of money in jobs and not like paying big taxes, so they like Republicans. Democrats were school kids with funny names like Sylvester and Ramone that got mad at popular kids and so they go to university to make protests and burn bras. This is not pretty. Also, babe girls with seeing problems like to marry rich Repulican footballers, so they wear contact lenzes, but Democrat girls just wear glasses, they don't care. That's what I think. Hans

The Sierra Nevada Mountains

My entry of January 31, 2006 was prompted by my reading of Lorenzo Snow's coach ride from Utah to California, which included passing over the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The dangers I imagined during my rides over Independence Pass were apparently all too real in the Sierra Nevada's. The account appears below. "The most exciting and dangerous portion of our overland route is yet before us, which we encountered in passing over the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Many portions of the road were covered with snow and ice, and ran a long way close beside fearful ravines, hundreds of feet in depth. One sitting in the coach, by inclining the head a little one side, could gaze down into the vast depths below, conscious that the wheels of the vehicle were often within a few inches of the terrible gulf; consequently, the slipping of the wheels, the least blunder of a horse, or a strap or buckle giving way, or the least carelessness of the driver, would plunge the whole outfit over the rocky crags into the abyss below. The danger was increased by the ice and snow, and the sudden, abrupt turns in the road. When we approached very slippery places, where the road frequently was barely of a sufficient width for the coach to pass between the high sharp rocks on one side and the frightful chasm on the other, the driver, in guarding against catastrophes, would put his two spans on their utmost speed. "Hour after hour, as we thus moved on, particular points in the road were pointed out to us, where coaches had whirled down precipices, and every occupant had been killed. These nerve-stirring recitals caused us more seriously to realize the gravity of our situation and our dependence on God for the preservation of our lives; and we truly felt grateful for our deliverance, and breathing more freely, felt our pulses restored to their normal state as we dismounted from the coach at the western base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains." (Eliza R. Snow, Biography of Lorenzo Snow, p.275)

Independence Pass

When I was growing up our family would travel from the Denver area to vacation in Snowmass at Aspen. There is more than one way to Aspen from Denver, but our path typically took us over Independence Pass. "Independence Pass is [a] 3686 meters (12095 feet) high mountain pass in the Rocky Mountains of central Colorado in the United States. The pass is at the summit of the ridge of the Sawatch Range between Aspen and Leadville . . . The pass is traversed by Colorado State Highway 82 and is one of the highest paved mountain passes in Colorado. Its narrow road provides for slow cautious navigation on its approaches. The pass is closed in winter, from the first heavy snow fall in autumn, often opening only in late May." (www.wikipedia.org) We would place complete faith in my father as he drove us up Indendence Pass in his 1965 Buick Riviera Gran Sport, powered with a 425 cubic inch engine with dual quad carburetors. At each hairpin turn we could look down on stunning dropoffs, just feet away from plunging to our doom. We would typically pass one or more packs of bike riders - - people who thought pedaling up a road like that was recreation. The summit of that pass and Aspen were a welcome sight. I found the following account by a couple who drove up Independence Pass in 2002: "Just went over this last week in the dark, late at night. As a flatlander from Florida, this was very scary. Almost hit several deer on the way down west side. This road is not for faint of heart. My wife was very terrified. The narrow single lane part was very scary with cars coming the other way. There are no road signs on 82. We turned around after a while then had to drive it again. It is not marked that you are on the right road. You may suggest to DOT that they need lines and/or reflectors. This could help immensely." (freespace.virgin.net/john.cletheroe/usa_can/scenroad/ind_pass.htm)

Lorenzo Snow's Wild Ride

One of the books I am currently reading is a biography of Lorenzo Snow (1814 - 1901), the fifth president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The book was written by his sister in 1884. Here is an excerpt from a passage I read this morning; the excerpt recounts an experience he had years before he became president of the LDS Church. From Lorenzo's journal: "We took stage at Salt Lake City, about the 1st of March, 1864, for San Francisco, California. Some interesting incidents occurred during our overland trip to California, that seemed to us at the time rather interesting or, at least, a little exciting . . . At another time, having stopped to exchange horses just as night was setting in, one of our company remarked that our new driver had quite the air and appearance of an intelligent gentleman, and we soon discovered that he possessed a wonderful musical talent, in the exercise of which he elicited our surprise and admiration . . . A sudden lurch of the coach, which was occasioned by a miss-step or awkward movement of the horses, wrought a sudden, marvelous change in our entertainer, and instantaneously closed our animating entertainment, while a volley of oaths and the most horrid blasphemies succeeded. As he poured forth his disgusting and heart-sickening profanity, he most furiously lashed the innocent horses. At this time we were just commencing the descent of a mountain some miles in length; it was quite dark, the road rough and rocky, and it may be readily imagined that our prospects were not the most inviting. Our coach swayed fearfully—the wheels ever and anon striking fire as they whirled over the rocks, with a double span of horses upon a keen run, tossing us up and down, giving us a few hard strokes of the head against the cover of the coach. At length Elder Benson, in a tremulous yet powerful voice, demanded of the driver to moderate his speed, which was responded to by an increased and more furious lashing of the foaming, panting steeds; thus, and more, with a drunken coachman (as we afterwards learned), we tore along down the mountain, every moment in jeopardy of being dashed to pieces. When at last reaching a station, we were happily relieved from this perilous adventure. On our return we learned that the inebriate had been discharged. Eliza R. Snow, Biography of Lorenzo Snow, pp. 273-275

God's Army 2: States of Grace

Yesterday I saw "States of Grace" after some prompting from a friend. I paid for my own ticket. It was money well spent.

Civics

This morning I arrived a little after 7:30 am at the Mimi's restaurant in Orem, Utah. I was late to a breakfast with Congressman Chris Cannon. His campaign invited me because a few years ago I was elected to "high office," chairperson of Precinct 29 in the Utah County Republican Party. There were about 10 of us who met with Congressman Cannon. He answered questions on land use, nuclear energy, immigration, and security. It seems there are some personality types that find meeting new people energizing, and others enervating. Bill Clinton seemed to be energized by meeting people on a campaign. Chris Cannon seems to handle it all pretty well. I asked him a few questions. I'm not sure he had compelling answers to some of the questions, but on some issues I don't think anyone has compelling answers that give hope for the immediate future. I think he did just fine. Later in the morning I went to a Utah County Republic Party Central Commmittee meeting. There were about 100 people there. A panel of state legislators fielded questions on a variety of topics. There was vigorous applause after several responses, but I don't believe I applauded once - - it is my own ignorace, I suppose, because I don't want to lend applause to things I don't sufficiently understand. Politicians can be an exasperating group, but we're fortunate to have people with an inclination to play that role in our society.

700

A friend of mine works at the Harris Fine Arts Center at BYU. She worked late Friday, until about 9:30 pm. The previous year on this occasion she had worked until about midnight. The occasion is auditions, auditions by 700 high school students hoping for admittance to fine arts programs, and for scholarships. My friend helps make various arrangements for a Saturday for which the participants have prepared for years. The students come with their "support groups" of family and friends. One can imagine the nervous energy and anxiety flowing through the HFAC on these audition days. I've never even heard of such a thing until today.

Wesley Snipes and Me

I came across an informercial the other day. It was an exercise equipment piece, so it was cast with "the usual suspects" - - Chuck Norris and Cheryl Tiegs (interchangeable with Christie Brinkley for infomercial purposes). I was surprised, however, when I saw Wesley Snipes appear on the screen as well. I suppose I had lost track of his career, but I guess I know how he rates nowadays . . . A couple of days ago a co-worker invited me to have dinner with him and his wife - - they were having leftover tacos and fajitas. This was a quasi-appealing invitation, which I rejected in part because the term "leftover" invites more questions than I dare ask (e.g., who prepared the food, how long ago, when you save leftovers does that include uneaten food on an individual's plate, how long did the food sit out before it was put into the refrigerator, can you verify that it was ever put in a refrigerator, can you otherwise document the chain of custody since the date the food was originally prepared, how many times has the food been re-heated for subsequent servings, and so on). A day after this initial invitation my co-worker told me that on February 4 his wife will be preparing Chinese food, and that contingent on any leftovers resulting from the initial meal, I am invited to their home on February 5. Although he subsequently offered a somewhat plausible explanation for this invitation, the likes of which I believe may have never been extended by one person to another in the history of Western civilization, I think I know how I rate . . .

Jeopardy

I relaxed last night and watched Saints and Soldiers, courtesy of my co-worker (and TGJB reader) who loaned me his DVD. This is a World War II movie. In one scene a some American soldiers come upon a British soldier suspended by his parachute in a tree. The Americans cut him down, but the British soldier is frantic and paranoid, and suspects these Americans might actually be Germans. He grabs one American and holds a gun to his head, and then fires off a series a series of questions to find out whether these Americans are who they say they are. How would you have done if confronted with those questions under such circumstances? The questions were: "Who was the third president of the United States?!" "Who was the fourth?!!" "What is the capital of Vermont?!!!" This reminded me of a movie I saw as a child. I can't recall the name of the movie, and while a particular scene made a great impression on me, my memory is quite hazy - - maybe someone among my vast readership can write in with better recall. To the best of my recollection, the movie depicts some American solders who are in Nazi-controlled territory. There is a touring American band which, for some reason, the Nazi's would allow to travel undisturbed. The soldiers have blended in with the band to escape detection, but the Germans suspect this may have happened, and their leader confronts the band in its rehearsal room. The leader calls at random on one of the band members to play something on his instrument. The man he called on was one of the soldiers. After a pause - - the soldier picks up a trombone, and then with some deliberation plays the national anthem of the United States. The Germans leave in disgust. The soldier had been in his high school band, but had not played the trombone since.

Another Day In The Life

* This morning my car thermometer showed the temperature as low as 17 F. * Gold's Gym seemed a bit less crowded today, and the month of January is not even over yet. * I dropped off some newspapers and phone books in a recycle bin on the way to work today. * I had an interesting response to yesterday's blog entry, and later in the day Hans reappeared to comment on the January 22 entry. * A co-worker read yesterday's blog entry, and brought me his "Saints and Soldiers" DVD. * I worked a little later than usual. * Toward the end of the work day, and on the car radio on the way home, I learned that 95-year-old President Gordon B. Hinckley, the president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, is in the hospital. The CBS radio news program indicated the stay was for a routine procedure. President Hinckley has had a big impact on my life. * Also toward the end of the day, a co-worker received a call from another of my co-workers, advising that one of their old classmates had just passed away. * On television I caught a bit of an interview with retired NFL linebacker Bill Romanowski, and before that an account of an investigator seeking evidence in Iraq for the trial of Saddam Hussein. * I called many numbers on a voter registration list. I am coordinating an effort in my precinct to fulfill a request from the Utah County Republic Party that we update the voter lists. * I entered some family history data into the PAF program I am using. As part of this effort, I typed in the obituary of my cousin, Coy Andersen. She was a great example of faith and strength. I have an Afghan she crocheted in my condo, and use it all the time. * While working at my computer, I listened to a CD from "The Classical Collection." These are 6 CDs that I obtained - - for free - - through some type of mail-in offer when I was just out of law school. So far this evening I have heard music of Grieg, Brahms, Dvorak, Strauss, Bizet, Tarrega, Albeniz, Saint-Saens, and Dukas.

Excerpt from a Book Excerpt

In its January 9, 2006 edition, Time published an excerpt from "The Number: A Completely Different Way to Think About the Rest of Your Life," by Lee Eisenberg. Here is an excerpt from the excerpt. [Question] No. 1 . . . "Assume that you've got all the money you need. Maybe you're not Warren Buffett, but you'll never need to worry about money again. The question is, What would you do with it? How would you live?" . . . Next question, "You go to the doctor, who discovers you have a rare illness. He says that you're going to feel perfectly fine for the next five years, but then the illness will prove fatal. It will come suddenly, causing no suffering. The question is, Now that you know that your life will be over by then, how will you live it? What will you do?" . . . The final question. "You go to the doctor. You feel perfectly healthy. Again the doctor explains that you have a serious illness. But this time the doctor says, `You have only 24 hours to live.' What did you miss? What did you not get to be? What did you not get to do?"

Housekeeping?

I went to a meeting one day, and the leader kicked things off by announcing he was going to do some "house cleaning." Depending on the circumstances, that could be a little disconcerting. He actually meant "houskeeping." For today's entry, I thought I'd let you in on some of the "human drama" that has been occurring recently at The Greg Jones Blog. As Bill said to Ted, or perhaps vice versa, "Strange things are afoot at the Circle K." Yesterday I set up a hosting account for the gregjones.org website. I obtained the gregjones.org domain name through register.com a few years ago. Before yesterday, I was using a free feature of register.com that would send visitors to gregjones.org to the livejournal site that houses The Greg Jones Blog; as a result, such visitors would see register.com banners at the top and bottom of their screens, and some users experienced technical problems. By using a hosting service for gregjones.org, visitors will no longer be redirected to another site, which will hopefully eliminate any technical difficulties users had with the prior approach. This also opens up an opportunity for me to provide content other than the blog. For now, the other content will be some family history materials, and I am experimenting with providing a reading list so that my vast audience can assess at least some influences on my mind and thinking, or things that should have influenced my mind and thinking had I been able to understand and remember them. The new website also has a "Contact Us" feature whereby visitors may send e-mails directly to me, Greg Jones. By the way, I read on slashdot that hackers have been breaking into the livejournal site which, as I mentioned above, is the service I use for The Greg Jones Blog. If you happen to know any of these guys, please ask them to stop. Fortunately, in a show of unparalleled parental loyalty, my mom and dad took it upon themselves long ago to print out each and every blog entry. Anyway, here is the January 20, 2006 posting from slashdot.org: An anonymous reader writes "Brian Krebs of the Washington Post has written about the recent spate of hijackings at Six Apart's popular LiveJournal service. Hundreds of journals have now been taken over by a notorious group called 'Bantown' using a series of complicated cross-site-scripting vulnerabilities. Krebs details the recent security changes made by LiveJournal in response to the takeovers." From the article: "It is unclear whether LiveJournal has managed to close the security holes that the hackers claim to have used. The company says it has, but the hackers insist there are still at least 16 other similar Javascript flaws on the LiveJournal site that could be used conduct the same attack. [Bantown] group members said they plan to turn their attention to looking for similar flaws at another large social-networking site."

Saints and Soldiers

Tonight I heard a talk by a producer of "Saints and Soldiers," an award-winning film shot in Utah and shown in all 50 states and numerous foreign countries. This young man was one of a graduating class of 3 in an arts-based private high school in Orem, Utah; he graduated in 1995, and the school has now closed. As a high school student he had a successful internship at Paramount, which helped him greatly in his career. I saw a portion of Saints and Soldiers when it ran on the History channel, but have yet to see the whole thing. I understand the film is out on DVD now. Could anyone loan me their's? The producers of the film were surprised when the MPAA initially gave the movie an R rating. As one of the key audiences of the film would be members of the LDS Church, and as the producer and many others involved in the film are LDS, and as LDS members have been counseled against seeing R rated movies, this presented a personal and business challenge. Over a period of 6 months the producers worked with the MPAA, made some changes to the film, and ultimately the film received a PG-13 rating. Some of the rationle of the MPAA was interesting. The R rating resulted from the depiction of violent combat in World War II. A key factor was that some of the characters killed in combat are principal characters, the type of characters that the audience will grow to care about as the movie progresses; the MPAA indicated that this was too much for someone less than 17 to experience. The PG-13 rating was achieved, in part, by changing the relevant scenes so they were less graphic; for example, a camera angle was changed to eliminate a view of bullets exiting a body. The producer mentioned that in movies such as Lord of the Rings there is massive violence against large numbers of creatures the audience would never identify with on an individual level, and therefore the MPAA does not deem such violence to merit an R rating. The producer posed the question of which depiction of violence is most likely to influence a young person to choose a course other than violence (e.g., a course other than a Columbine-like assault), a depiction that shows consequences of violence, or a depiction of violence without any meaningful consequence. I had not been aware of it, but the producer said the MPAA felt it had a made a mistake when it rated "Titanic," that it should have receive an R-rating. He also mentioned some things about the funding of the MPAA, as well as the policies and politics of the rating process. Pretty educational.

www.websudoku.com

Have you caught the sudoku craze? Enjoy some mental gymnastics by printing a puzzle from www.websudoku.com. I did my first puzzle tonight on a Delta flight from Boston to Salt Lake City. There were two puzzles in the Delta's Sky magazine. I solved the first, and have gotten myself into trouble on the second.

Behind the Times

Perhaps you saw the January 18, 2006 article by Barry Cox of the NewScientist.com news service, the one titled “Disgraced cloning pioneer could keep his patents.“ Here is an excerpt: “A patent application, filed by disgraced stem cell scientist Woo Suk Hwang and colleagues and based on work now admitted to be fabricated, may nevertheless be granted, a New Scientist investigation has found . . . The UK Patent Office has taken a leading role in trying to clarify what aspects of stem cell research can be patented in Europe. Lawrence Smith-Higgins at the UKPO says: `European patent examiners are not interested in whether something will work or not. The commercial world, which is where patents belong, will judge. As long as an invention is not clearly contrary to scientific laws – like time travel – research has no bearing on the grant of a patent.’” I am confident that you, like me, were left wondering how Mr. Smith-Higgins, if not all European patent examiners, could be so ill-informed about time travel. Should we really have to point out well-established facts such as the following? 1. In the late 1800’s a man built a time machine, traveled into the future, and discovered a utopian society called the Eloi. 2. In 1912 actress Elise McKenna was visited by playwright Richard Collier, a time traveler from the 1970s. 3. In the 1930s social worker Edith Keeler was visited by three men from the future, with the last names of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. I could go on, but what would be the point?

Thumbs Up

I am sure that my vast readership has been very anxious for my ruling on Pride and Prejudice. My observation about the book several days back was less than complimentary, but I finished the book Tuesday and would recommend the book to all - - indeed, I believe I could recommend this book with almost the same zeal with which I encouraged all to see that fine American film "Napoleon Dynamite." That said, my "The Modern Library Classics" edition of P&P contained a quote from Mark Twain that gives somewhat of a different take. "When I take up one of Jane Austen's books . . . such as Pride and Prejudice, I feel like a barkeeper entering the kingdom of heaven. I know what his sensation would be and his private comments. He would not find the place to his taste, and he would probably say so." [From a conversation between 1900-1907, as reported by Albert Bigelow in "Mark Twain, a Biography: The Personal and Literary Life of Samuel Longhorne Clemons," vol. III (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1912)]

Ice Cube

Sunday evening I picked up a leased car at Novell's parking garage. It was a little past 12 am, the car was parked on the uncovered top floor of the parking garage, and earlier in the day the weather had quickly changed from 50 degrees F and rain to 10 degrees F. At first I could not open the doors because they were frozen shut, then I could not get the door to latch shut, and when I arrived at my hotel I could not get the door to open - - I exited through one of the back doors. The next morning I drove into a parking lot at a train station, stopped at the gate, and was unable to lower my window to take the parking ticket. It had been a while since I'd experienced such things . . . As a law student in Provo, Utah, I drove a 1979 Toyota Corona LE liftback sedan. My apartments had no covered parking. An unfortunately typical scenario for a winter morning was: leave apartment at 6 am, find that my car's front doors are frozen shut, enter the car through the rear liftback, take my position in the driver's seat after climbing over the back seats and the front seats, arrive at law school, front doors are still frozen shut, climb into the back seat, exit the car through a back door. In high school, some of my LDS neighbors and I would car pool to 6 am seminary. When it was their turn, they would drive their family's third car, an older 2-door that was parked outside at night. On winter mornings they would not get up early enough to warm up the car and clear the ice off the windshield, so we learned to avoid the back seat behing the driver, because the driver would roll down his window so he could stick his head outside and navigate, it being impossible to see anything through the ice-encrusted windshield.

A Blowout

I went to a birthday party tonight. As I watched the individual blow out the candles, I recalled a remarkable event that occurred one summer. Some poor soul in my student apartments had chickenpox. He looked miserable. He was miserable. He had pox all over his face, he could not shave as a result, he was listless, he had been confined to his apartment for a couple of weeks. And this was all in the heat of summer. Someone learned it was his birthday, amd baked him a cake. I was part of the group that presented the cake to him, complete with lit candles. The cake looked delicious. The young man came out, seemed happy to have some visitors for a change, and notwithstanding that he looked a little worse than death warmed over, mustered enough energy to methodically blow over the entire surface of the cake, succesfully putting out the candles. Cake eating had suddenly lost its appeal, and the visitors were gone . . .

Sneeze Suppression

There are two types of people in this world - - those who suppress their sneezes, and those who don't. Personally, I am not a sneeze suppressor, but I do attempt to direct sneezes so that no one is "in harm's way." I do recall at least one instance where it turned out someone was, in fact, directly in harm's way, but such is life. Today at the airport I saw a young man who was a prodigious sneeze suppressor, and he'd also suppress the succession of sneezes that followed the initial sneeze. The typical pattern was one suppressed sneeze, followed by three "aftershocks." I observed the same pattern on the flight as he was seated across the aisle, one row behind me. I thought his head just might explode. This prompted me to research the topic of sneeze suppression in depth (i.e., I did one Google search on the phrase). I discovered the tragic case appearing below. PENNSYLVANIA WORKER'S COMPENSATION CASE "Claimant Russell Carroll petitions for review of the May 25, 1999 order of the Workers' Compensation Appeal Board (Board) that reversed a decision of the workers' compensation judge (WCJ) granting Claimant's claim petition and awarding him specific loss benefits for loss of his left eye. Claimant contends that the Board erred in articulating the burden of proof necessary to support an award of benefits in a claim petition proceeding for specific loss benefits; Claimant also contends that the Board erred in concluding that there was no substantial evidence to show that Claimant's retinal detachment, which resulted from his suppression of a sneeze during a business meeting, was caused by the condition of Employer's premises. We reverse." (See www.romingerlegal.com/pacaselaw/commonwealth1/1516CD99.html)

Denver Broncos 27, New England Patriots 13

One win away from the Super Bowl.

In Search of Jimba

Here are excerpts from an article on "Jumbo" from www.wikepedia.com. It is evident that this is not the elphant named Jimba that I wrote of before, if there ever was such an elephant. Jumbo (1861 - September 15, 1885) was an African elephant, born in 1861 in the French Sudan from where he was imported to France . . . In 1865 he was transferred to the London Zoo, where he became famous for giving rides to visitors. It was the London zoo-keepers that gave Jumbo his name — it is a slightly garbled version of the word jambo, which is Swahili for "hello". Jumbo was sold in 1882 to P. T. Barnum, owner of "The Greatest Show on Earth", the Barnum & Bailey Circus. Estimated to be 3.25 metres high in the London Zoo, it was claimed that Jumbo was approximately 4 metres tall by the time of his death. Jumbo died at a train station in St. Thomas, Ontario, Canada, where he was crushed by a locomotive. A statue now at the site commemorates the tragedy . . . As a result of Barnum's publicity the word "jumbo" is now synonymous with "large" or "huge": a large hot dog sausage may be called a "jumbo hot dog"; the Boeing 747 is known as the "Jumbo Jet".

Credit for the January 6, 2005 "Moon River" Entry

The Editorial Board of The Greg Jones Blog wants to ensure that we appropriately acknowledge any sources for blog entries. With respect to the January 6 entry, the Board has directed that relevant correspondence be posted here. >>> Greg Jones 1/13/06 8:34 am >>> Hello [Colleague], The Editorial Board of The Greg Jones Blog has asked that I contact you about the January 6 entry of The Greg Jones Blog entitled "Moon River." The Board is torn by two competing principles - - giving credit where credit is due, and respecting the privacy of individuals. We feel that you should receive some recognition as the source for the Moon River story. I believe we have credited you on a past effort, perhaps without providing your full name. We could do that here, or mention you by name, or mention you without using any part of your name. [May] we update the blog to give you credit and, if so, in what form would you like the credit to appear[?] Sincerely, Greg Jones >>> [Colleague] 01/13/06 10:38 am >>> Greg: I am somewhat surprised that these concerns have come to the attention of the Greg Jones Blog Editorial Board . . . First, I appreciate the Greg Jones Blog Editorial Board's willingness to acknowledge sources of stories found on the Greg Jones Blog. In raising this issue, I do not want to draw attention to myself or try to divert attention away from the keen insights and observations of the author of the Greg Jones Blog. I believe that a simple acknowledgment that a particular story was received from "a colleague" along with an advance email notice that the story will appear on the Greg Jones Blog is sufficient to balance the issues of "giving credit where credit is due" and privacy. Thank you for your prompt consideration of this important matter. Best Regards, [Colleague] (a.k.a. A Colleague)

Lawyer Jokes

From "Did You Hear the One About . . . ", an article by Marc Galanter in the January 2006 edition of Corporate Counsel. In researching my new book, "Lowering the Bar: Lawyer Jokes and Legal Culture," I found that the preeminent subject of jokes set in large law firms is the tension between older partners and younger associates. Stories about how partners exploit associates - - and how junior attorneys turn the tables on their senior colleagues - - have been around for a long time . . . Consider the following joke: A paralegal, an associate, and a partner of a prestigious New York law firm are walking through Central Park on their way to lunch wheh they find an antique oil lamp. They rub it and a genie comes out in a puff of smoke. The genie says, "I usually only grant three wishes, so I'll give each of you just one." "Me first! Me first!" says the paralegal. "I want to be in the Bahamas, driving a speedboat, without a care in the world." Poof. He's gone. "Me next! Me next!" says the associate in astonishment. "I want to be in Hawaii, relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of pina coladas, and the love of my life." Poof. She's gone. "You're next," the genie says to the partner. The partner says, "I want those two back in the library after lunch."

Carpets

I spoke to a friend last night. She cleans her carpets every 3 months. I've lived in my condo since the fall of 1993. Had I been as diligent as she, I would have cleaned my carpets about 39 times by now . . .

Blood

I gave blood tonight. I've done so pretty regularly since 9-11 when one of my co-workers mentioned the importance of having blood available for emergencies. Remember - - donors get FREE cookies and juice!

Toenail Tails

Fungus Toenail fungus affects 2% to 18% of all people worldwide and 3% to 5% of people in the United States. It is relatively rare in children, affecting only about 1 out of every 200 people younger than 18. However, the likelihood of getting toenail fungus increases with age. Up to 48% of people have at least one affected toe by the time they reach age 70. Although 2.5 million Americans see a podiatrist annually for treatment of toenail fungus, many more are infected but never seek help. Some people consider toenail fungus just a cosmetic problem and don't bother seeking treatment. (www.intelihealth.com/IH/ihtIH/WSIHW000/9339/24470.html) If you are a toenail fungus victim, get help today! Hoosier Hotshots Are any of you fans of the Hoosier Hotshots? Remember the story of the people that had a fish fry up at their cabin? Want to send it in?

Jimba

I heard a talk today that mentioned Jimba, reportedly the most famous elephant in the history of the Barnum and Bailey circus. According to the speaker, Jimba had been conditioned to believe he could not break loose of even a small rope tied around his leg. As a result, he almost died in a circus fire, until his trainer shouted assurances to Jimba that Jimba could escape. Jimba broke loose, and ran smiling to a little girl who had spotted the trapped animal. I searched Google in vain for any account of any elephant named Jimba. Does anyone have information on Jimba?

The Pied Piper of Park Meadows

Park Meadows is a huge mall in Littleton, Colorado near the junction of I-25 and C-470. During the Christmas season the parking lot is a zoo, especially when snow and ice have accumulated in the parking lot, and especially during the dark hours of early evening. A few years back we had been to the mall more than once leading up to Christmas, and the mall was still relatively new. One afternoon as we drove along the outside perimeter of the parking lot, I took a right turn to exit the lot, only to discover that I had entered some peculiar appendage to parking lot, an enclosed area with about 25 empty parking spaces - - the only way out was the way I had entered. We exited the little enclosure, and learned that the actual exit was the next right, just a short distance further ahead. A few days later, we found ourselves back at Park Meadows during those cold, dark hours of the early evening. We again found ourselves driving along the outer perimeter of the parking lot, and numerous vehicles were following behind us as we carefully and slowly drove through the lot. Suddenly I responded to an impulse, some inspiration, as we approached the enclosure we had encountered before. I used my indicator to signal a right turn, drove a bit further, took the right turn into the enclosure, and then continued driving slowly along the outer edge of the enclosure. With no small amount of satisfaction, I took a look in the rear view mirror, and saw that each trailing car was "taking the bait." I completed the circuit around the inside of the enclosure, then exited the enclosure - - to the cars entering the enclosure, it seemed that my car, and all of the cars trailing me, were simply entering the parking lot through an entrance from the outside. I proceeded to the true exit from the lot. As we drove away from the mall, I took a satisfied look back as a long string of headlights continued to illuminate the path into, around, and out of the enclosure . . .

Moon River

ROCKVILLE, Maryland (AP) - A Maryland man charged with flashing his bare buttocks at his neighbour during an argument has avoided a possible three year prison sentence after a judge ruled that the act was tasteless, but legal. Judge John W. Debelius III - overturning an earlier decision by another judge - said what Raymond Hugh McNealy reportedly did was a "disgusting" and "demeaning" act . . . McNealy's neighbour, Nanette Vonfeldt, accused him of yelling at her and threatening to "blow up my building" as she and her daughter walked out of their apartment. The two had a heated meeting the night before at the home owner's association, according to McNealy's lawyers, and McNealy wanted Vonfeldt off the board, The Washington Post reported in its Wednesday edition. "Then, for whatever reason, in full view of my daughter, he mooned us," Vonfeldt wrote in court documents, referring to the act of flashing the bare buttocks. McNealy was charged with indecent exposure, a charge upheld by a trial court judge. But McNealy appealed, arguing that state law only covers displays of a person's "private parts," which does not include the buttocks . . . McNealy lawyer James Maxwell said the Debelius ruling should "bring comfort to all beachgoers and plumbers" in the state. (http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=1835&ncid=1835&e=2&u=/cpress/20060105/ca_pr_on_od/us_mooning_man) NOTE: This URL was received from A Colleague. (Greg Jones, January 13, 2006)

From Russia With Love

Thursday night I attended a lecture for single adults at an LDS Stake Center in Provo. The speaker was Gary Browning, a longtime professor of Russian at BYU, and former mission president to Russia in the early 1990s. He was actually based in Finland, and would travel to Russia. Today he has a calling as Patriarch to the a large portion of the Russian nation. He travels to Russia a few times a year to meet with Church members and give them a priesthood blessing known in the LDS Church as a "Patriarchal Blessing." On these trips he will meet with several members of the Church each day, moving from city to city. He generally does not have an opportunity to meet these individuals ever again. In his brief visits with these members he is able to learn a little of each individual's personal history. He has a strong love for the Russian people, and each of these meetings strengthens that love and admiration as he repeatedly hears of the inspiring faith of individuals who have embraced Christianity and the LDS Church, often in extraoardinary circumstances. Professor Browning did not really share any detailed accounts of such members, he gave a more general account of his responsibilities and activities. As I was writing this entry, it occurred to me that I could check the LDS Church web site at www.lds.org. I clicked on "Search" towards the top of the home page, on the page that came up I selected "Ensign" under the "Search Gospel Library Archive" option, entered "Russia" as the query, then clicked on "Search." There were many matches in the Search Results, and item 7 turned out to be the following article: Gary Browning, “Pioneering in Russia,” Ensign, June 1997, 25. I read the article, and there were several fascinating and inspiring stories. I'll reproduce one of them below - - if you have further interest you can find the article, and possibly other materials, on the website. The Bazarskii Family “I live in Voronezh [about 250 miles south of Moscow] and am a professor of English at an institute. … Thanks to the heritage of my parents, at a young age I learned about God. … But I never went to church, and I didn’t read the Bible until I was 40. Once I became an adult, I tried to attend church in other cities when I went on professional trips. … At 19 I married. My husband [Oleg], a physicist by education, was a thorough atheist, and at the beginning was amused by my ‘faith’ and prayers. … “The year 1985 brought great changes into my spiritual life. I was able to go to church openly, fearing neither the KGB nor any unpleasantness at work. … Then came September 1991 and my first-ever international linguistics conference in Zvenigorod, near Moscow. At that time occurred what was for me a momentous meeting with professors from Utah. “In our lives are many coincidences. And so it seemed that by sheer coincidence I was drawn into a discussion about contemporary Russia. … Suddenly I heard a question: ‘And how has the status of the Orthodox Church changed?’ I felt that the question was addressed to me personally. “In four or five phrases I tried to explain how much the church meant to me and my family, and how happy I was that now I could speak of my faith openly. I didn’t have to fear being a believer. This sincere but awkward answer, as it turned out, touched many people in the room, especially the gray-haired professor who had asked the question. It was Dr. Robert W. Blair from Brigham Young University. We became acquainted, and I invited him to Voronezh. “In the spring of 1992 Dr. Blair came … with his family to see us for the celebration of the Orthodox Easter. I invited them to a church Easter service. I had been eagerly awaiting this event. That spring … I was fasting and for the first time in my life attended confession, and I thought I was beginning a new life without any transgression or deceit. “While on my way to church that day, I hoped to experience there the feelings of Tolstoy’s heroes, so well described by him in Resurrection. But it turned out otherwise. The Holy Ghost did not descend upon me. Though the ceremony and the brilliance of the golden vestments were dazzling, the service itself did not move me at all. … I returned home discouraged, convinced that my personal sins had not allowed me to experience any feelings of redemption at the service. “During the summer of 1992, however, students from Brigham Young University arrived in Voronezh to teach English in nursery schools. I came to their Sunday meeting and was struck by the atmosphere of love and warmth that prevailed there. I wanted to become like them, and I wanted my son [Aleksandr] to be with them. These were unusual Americans, people unlike any others I knew. “At first I wasn’t going to change anything in my life. Would it really be impossible to be a member of the Orthodox Church and at the same time follow the principles of the Mormons? … Sooner or later I would have to decide for myself which side I would be on: with the Orthodox Church or with these new, unfamiliar people, whom I wanted to become more like. “This choice tortured me and would not allow me a moment’s peace. All the while it seemed to me that by choosing the Mormons I would betray the faith of my fathers, and that God would not forgive me for this apostasy. I prayed and asked God for an answer, and it came. “One day during the summer while I was sitting on the bank of a river gazing into the water and persistently thinking about the choice I had to make, I perceived a distinct voice that said I would not betray anyone, that I would simply progress farther and believe more deeply. “It’s difficult to describe the feelings that I experienced upon hearing this voice: surprise, relief, happiness. I continued to attend the students’ meetings, and then I took the discussions from the missionaries in Moscow. It was there I was baptized on December 15, 1992, on the eve of the students’ flight back to America. “My life changed. I became more tranquil, tolerant, and patient. Problems in our family life gradually diminished. For the first time in my life I understood the meaning of the words ‘quiet happiness,’ that is to say, harmony with oneself and peace of mind. During that year I became convinced that faith is capable of growing, and much that I had doubted a year ago now seemed true and right. “I don’t know what exactly it was that first influenced my husband, whether it was the example of my son and me or his interaction with the students, the mission president, or the missionaries, but in September 1993 he began to regularly attend church. … On January 15, 1994, he was baptized. … Now we are all together. “The first time I saw the student members of the Church I said to myself, This cannot be a bad church with such good people. Now I can testify that this Church is true, and that it leads people to light. This Church gives people hope, and with hope it is easier to overcome those trials which are sent to us. I know I am not alone. My family, friends, and brothers and sisters are with me, as is our Heavenly Father, who wants me to be happy.” Sister Bazarskaia has served in many callings since her baptism, including Relief Society president. Her husband became president of the Voronezh Branch. Their son, Aleksandr, served in the Latvia Riga Mission.