I've been thinking about T-shirts lately. For my morning walks, I usually pull on one of the several T-shirts I've received the last few years as a cancer survivor. There's the purple one from my first Relay For Life. Sometimes I wear the bright pink from the Race For the Cure. If I don't feel like being too bold, I put on the white Race For the Cure. But there are other T-shirts that can be worn for everyday use. I still have two shirts that Ryan brought from Hawaii: LDS Church Relief Team (Hurricane Iniki).
How boring were clothes closets before the invention of the T-shirt? I researched a little of their history. They came on the scene before the 1900's as union worker underclothes...mine workers, industrial laborers, etc. Then during war times, soldiers wore them for extra warmth in cold weather. But because they were not really considered underwear, a military shirt could be taken off in hot weather and the man could still be considered "clothed" for service. According to the source I read, it was Marlon Brando that spiked the interest in everyday wear of the T-shirt in his movie "A Streetcar Named Desire".
I admit I have never seen Marlon's movie. But I can imagine his shirt was white, and plain, and had rolled up sleeves...pretty cool for 1950. It was not too long after this that Walt Disney caught the vision with printed T's adorned with images of Mickey Mouse and other "Goofy" characters. It didn't take long for businesses to realize "human billboarding" could pay off in effective marketing. Because of the fact that I didn't really pay for my survivor T-shirts, I am obliged to accept the printed advertisements of those who actually did pay, namely the sponsors that expended tax-deductible dollars: FM 100.3, Pepsi, Yoplait, UPS, Ford, Bank of America, and a host of drug companies who names I cannot pronounce.
Very seldom do you find a plain T-shirt in today's fashion world. Sometimes we proudly wear a shirt that helps the gross margin of Nike. But most often our choice of apparel makes a statement of our emotions, our devotion, our humor or our political passion. We declare our commitment to the Utah Jazz, USU, Atlanta Braves or another favorite sports team. Onlookers can immediately determine where we spent our summer vacation by our donning of shirts from Yellowstone, Grand Canyon or Disney World. Mass production of shirts creates a bond with those who wear them, such as our Race For the Cure. The whole point is that the T-shirt is an avenue for personal expression. The term "human billboard" extends beyond our personal agreement to advertise Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Awareness. What we wear advertises who we are and what we represent as a person.
Do we need catchy logos and Fruit of the Loom cotton to do this? Can someone look into my face and determine what I stand for? Do my actions speak louder than my T-shirt? I hope so. It would be wonderful if those who see me in the grocery store could read the feelings of my soul rather than the words printed on my chest. I would hope that my life's T-shirt advertises what is really dear to me: faith in God, hope for a sunny day, the love of family, a sense of belonging, willingness to serve and a commitment to work.
On the lighter side, if I ever start my own T-shirt business, here are some favorite sayings that I think would make for great reading:
"Some days you are the bug; some days you are the windshield."
"I went to the 30th reunion of my preschool. I didn't want to go, because I've put on like a hundred pounds."
"I hate housework! You make the beds, do the dishes -- and six months later you have to start all over again."
But for now, I will stick to my survivor shirts that remind me to: "Take charge of your health!", "Imagine a world without breast cancer", and "Celebrate, Remember, Fight Back".
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Two Dollar Dilemma
I never thought an early morning walk in the neighborhood could result in difficult moral dilemmas! Such was the case this last week. One of my walking routes includes going straight down 6000 South to my church, around the parking lot and back up the road to home. Last Tuesday morning I opted for this route. I had been walking about ten minutes and was ready to cross the street to the church, when I noticed two one-dollar bills laying folded on the sidewalk at my feet. It's amazing how quickly the mind can process facts in a split second. By the time I stopped my forward motion, my brain had already considered several possible courses of action.
Option 1: I wore pants with pockets. Two dollars could easily fit in either pocket to be later spent on one package of Peanut M&M's and a Snickers bar, with pennies left over for my piggy bank. Option 2: I could take the money home and later deliver it to the Roy City Police Department. Let them try to find the owner of pocket change. Option 3: It may be reasonable to take the money and deliver it to a favorite charity. Option 4: I could appoint myself as the legal guardian of the funds and come back to the spot sometime later with a sign requesting the "loser" to call 801-776-4286 to claim their money. Option 5: I could ignore the whole situation. "What money? I didn't see any money!" Option 6 was to continue walking, hoping that divine inspiration would come as I walked around the perimeter of the church. If the money was still there on my way back up the sidewalk, I would know what to do then.
Leaving the dollars where they were, I walked...my conscience debating back and forth. I really hoped the money would miraculously disappear by the time I made my way back. Then I wouldn't have to decide. But, alas, to my disappointment, there was George Washington and his twin brother George Washington staring up at me from the cement. Again, my mind went over the options. Option 1 was never really an option. I am honest enough that I would never pocket the money. Option 2: Realistically, would anyone think to go to the police to see if two dollars had been turned in? No, I don't think so. Besides, I was taught in Seminary to "avoid the appearance of evil" What if someone drove by and saw me pocket the money. They would see me take it but never see me deliver it. Option 3: I had no right to decide whether the Salvation Army or the Make A Wish Foundation deserved the use of someone else's money. Option 4: Probably not smart to publish my telephone number in such a manner. Option 5: If all else fails, do nothing. And that's what I did. I left the money where I first discovered it and went on my way up the road. I will admit, I arrived at this conclusion because I was "chicken" rather than from a sense of moral duty.
The story doesn't end here. As I proceeded up the sidewalk, I had to move over into the grass to let a jogger pass by going the opposite direction. I wondered what he would do when he most assuredly would see where the money was left behind. I gave him ten seconds to reach the spot and then I turned around. Just then, he stopped, bent down, picked up the money and was on his way again. Did he have the same thought process as I? Or did he immediately know the right, or the wrong, thing to do? I'll never know. Now that's the end of the story.
Whether I did right or wrong...it's hard for me to say. I am disappointed in myslef that I couldn't come up with one positive, no-doubt-about-it solution to the two dollar dilemma. The tests of integrity and honesty are sometimes in the gray area, neither black or white. I wonder if I could have made a quicker and better decision if the amount of money was $1,000, or $100, or even $10? But for two dollars...I hope I haven't lost celestial brownie points simply because I couldn't decide!
This would be a great discussion question for Family Home Evening this week. If the Primary children can think of Options 7, 8 or 9, please let me know. Then I will know what to do next time I see a penny in the parking lot!
Option 1: I wore pants with pockets. Two dollars could easily fit in either pocket to be later spent on one package of Peanut M&M's and a Snickers bar, with pennies left over for my piggy bank. Option 2: I could take the money home and later deliver it to the Roy City Police Department. Let them try to find the owner of pocket change. Option 3: It may be reasonable to take the money and deliver it to a favorite charity. Option 4: I could appoint myself as the legal guardian of the funds and come back to the spot sometime later with a sign requesting the "loser" to call 801-776-4286 to claim their money. Option 5: I could ignore the whole situation. "What money? I didn't see any money!" Option 6 was to continue walking, hoping that divine inspiration would come as I walked around the perimeter of the church. If the money was still there on my way back up the sidewalk, I would know what to do then.
Leaving the dollars where they were, I walked...my conscience debating back and forth. I really hoped the money would miraculously disappear by the time I made my way back. Then I wouldn't have to decide. But, alas, to my disappointment, there was George Washington and his twin brother George Washington staring up at me from the cement. Again, my mind went over the options. Option 1 was never really an option. I am honest enough that I would never pocket the money. Option 2: Realistically, would anyone think to go to the police to see if two dollars had been turned in? No, I don't think so. Besides, I was taught in Seminary to "avoid the appearance of evil" What if someone drove by and saw me pocket the money. They would see me take it but never see me deliver it. Option 3: I had no right to decide whether the Salvation Army or the Make A Wish Foundation deserved the use of someone else's money. Option 4: Probably not smart to publish my telephone number in such a manner. Option 5: If all else fails, do nothing. And that's what I did. I left the money where I first discovered it and went on my way up the road. I will admit, I arrived at this conclusion because I was "chicken" rather than from a sense of moral duty.
The story doesn't end here. As I proceeded up the sidewalk, I had to move over into the grass to let a jogger pass by going the opposite direction. I wondered what he would do when he most assuredly would see where the money was left behind. I gave him ten seconds to reach the spot and then I turned around. Just then, he stopped, bent down, picked up the money and was on his way again. Did he have the same thought process as I? Or did he immediately know the right, or the wrong, thing to do? I'll never know. Now that's the end of the story.
Whether I did right or wrong...it's hard for me to say. I am disappointed in myslef that I couldn't come up with one positive, no-doubt-about-it solution to the two dollar dilemma. The tests of integrity and honesty are sometimes in the gray area, neither black or white. I wonder if I could have made a quicker and better decision if the amount of money was $1,000, or $100, or even $10? But for two dollars...I hope I haven't lost celestial brownie points simply because I couldn't decide!
This would be a great discussion question for Family Home Evening this week. If the Primary children can think of Options 7, 8 or 9, please let me know. Then I will know what to do next time I see a penny in the parking lot!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
All Creatures Great and Small
I've been trying to be diligent in my quest for 10,000 steps a day. In a two week period, I've succeeded three times, two of those days being Saturdays. It's amazing how many steps are involved in wandering through the grocery story and mowing the lawn! On the other days, I average around 8,000 steps. But that is with a conscientious effort in going on an early morning walk through the neighborhood and a vigorous session on the treadmill at night.
I love the early morning walks. Right now, it is light enough to feel secure and safe in the journey. Because, you know, there are dangers out there...speeding cars, ferocious dogs, criminals, and cracks in the sidewalk! I will probably be accused by neighbors and friends of not waving to them as they drive by on their way to work. The truth is: I do not have my head down to avoid eye to eye contact with every worker heading to HAFB at 6:00 a.m. I am really needing to make eye to eye contact with the uneven segments of cement below my feet. One second of false security and I go "splat" on the sidewalk. I don't want to find out which would hurt more, my ego or the fragile bones of my body?
Another reason I keep focused on the ground below me: critters...creepy, crawling critters. Side note: do any of you remember the Creepy Crawlers toy? Take one little baking device...fill a spider or bug mold with colored goo...bake for a specified minute...and voila...you have rubbery, creepy crawlers to hide in sister's bed! Okay, back to my dialogue. If I don't pay attention, I could be the means of destruction for many crawlers who are going about their business on their sidewalk of life. Ants, worms, bugs, spiders, millipedes...you name it. They all think they will make it back home after their jaunt to "wherever" they may be going. Lo and behold, here comes a heavy Nike foot to "squash" their hopes.
Perhaps those of you who are smarter than me will know the answer. Do bugs think? Is there some kind of tiny brain cell in the body of a mosquito, or a lady bug, or a grasshopper? Do they have beating hearts? Or what exactly is in their physical makeup that triggers an instinct to move four legs and then another four legs, or to create a hive? I am the first to admit, I do not understand the hows and whys of all of God's creations. But I have enough respect for them that I don't want to destroy those creatures. Well, all except the ants. I can walk on a pile of ants without even thinking. But I try to step around the potato bugs and the worms each morning. Besides, I really don't like the sight of smeared centipede juice, or the sound of cracking cricket carcasses.
What has all of this to do with my Grace Notes this week? A few weeks ago, Mom was kind enough to attend Cancer Survivor's Day with me at McKay Dee Hospital. Some celebrations throughout the world involve magnanimous service projects or days at an amusement park. But Ogden, Utah...we are very low key. Our celebration day includes a guitar player, a few speakers and lunch. If you are really adventurous, you can participate in Wi golf in the adjoining room. It's not a celebration that makes news, but it is something I want to be involved in...simply because I did survive and want to celebrate that accomplishment. This year's theme was The Chain of Survival. As we went in, I was asked to put my name on a paper cutout of a person. I also put Mom's name on a different colored person. Physicians were another color, and volunteers in the health community were yet another. They pasted all these paper dolls side by side, hand in hand down the hallway. The idea is we all work together to survive...not just in cancer, but in life.
Mrs. Daddy Long Legs has no clue that my decision yesterday morning to walk around, or over her, allowed her to survive another day. As human beings, we have been given dominion over "every living thing that moveth upon the earth" (Moses 2:28) There's a certain level of responsibility with that command. However, I don't want anyone to feel guilty about the fly swatter that is hanging on the hook in the kitchen closet. And don't even think about the voices you may be hearing from Mr. Fly ("Help me, help me...") I've done my share of nuking a swarm of wasps with RAID. What I am saying is...wow...what a wonderful world with such diversity of life.
Spring is a time of destroying the weeds, but planting the garden. We eradicate the ant hill erected at the bottom of the steps, but rejoice in hanging a bird feeder from the porch. We build the deluxe Marriott-style coop for the chickens and then we have them for dinner. It's all part of the plan of survival. In the pecking order of animal life, I am grateful I'm at the top of the food chain and not at the bottom with the eensy weensy spider. The next time you are out for a walk, be aware of the variety of life all around you and wonder at the miracle of God's creations, all creatures great and small.
I love the early morning walks. Right now, it is light enough to feel secure and safe in the journey. Because, you know, there are dangers out there...speeding cars, ferocious dogs, criminals, and cracks in the sidewalk! I will probably be accused by neighbors and friends of not waving to them as they drive by on their way to work. The truth is: I do not have my head down to avoid eye to eye contact with every worker heading to HAFB at 6:00 a.m. I am really needing to make eye to eye contact with the uneven segments of cement below my feet. One second of false security and I go "splat" on the sidewalk. I don't want to find out which would hurt more, my ego or the fragile bones of my body?
Another reason I keep focused on the ground below me: critters...creepy, crawling critters. Side note: do any of you remember the Creepy Crawlers toy? Take one little baking device...fill a spider or bug mold with colored goo...bake for a specified minute...and voila...you have rubbery, creepy crawlers to hide in sister's bed! Okay, back to my dialogue. If I don't pay attention, I could be the means of destruction for many crawlers who are going about their business on their sidewalk of life. Ants, worms, bugs, spiders, millipedes...you name it. They all think they will make it back home after their jaunt to "wherever" they may be going. Lo and behold, here comes a heavy Nike foot to "squash" their hopes.
Perhaps those of you who are smarter than me will know the answer. Do bugs think? Is there some kind of tiny brain cell in the body of a mosquito, or a lady bug, or a grasshopper? Do they have beating hearts? Or what exactly is in their physical makeup that triggers an instinct to move four legs and then another four legs, or to create a hive? I am the first to admit, I do not understand the hows and whys of all of God's creations. But I have enough respect for them that I don't want to destroy those creatures. Well, all except the ants. I can walk on a pile of ants without even thinking. But I try to step around the potato bugs and the worms each morning. Besides, I really don't like the sight of smeared centipede juice, or the sound of cracking cricket carcasses.
What has all of this to do with my Grace Notes this week? A few weeks ago, Mom was kind enough to attend Cancer Survivor's Day with me at McKay Dee Hospital. Some celebrations throughout the world involve magnanimous service projects or days at an amusement park. But Ogden, Utah...we are very low key. Our celebration day includes a guitar player, a few speakers and lunch. If you are really adventurous, you can participate in Wi golf in the adjoining room. It's not a celebration that makes news, but it is something I want to be involved in...simply because I did survive and want to celebrate that accomplishment. This year's theme was The Chain of Survival. As we went in, I was asked to put my name on a paper cutout of a person. I also put Mom's name on a different colored person. Physicians were another color, and volunteers in the health community were yet another. They pasted all these paper dolls side by side, hand in hand down the hallway. The idea is we all work together to survive...not just in cancer, but in life.
Mrs. Daddy Long Legs has no clue that my decision yesterday morning to walk around, or over her, allowed her to survive another day. As human beings, we have been given dominion over "every living thing that moveth upon the earth" (Moses 2:28) There's a certain level of responsibility with that command. However, I don't want anyone to feel guilty about the fly swatter that is hanging on the hook in the kitchen closet. And don't even think about the voices you may be hearing from Mr. Fly ("Help me, help me...") I've done my share of nuking a swarm of wasps with RAID. What I am saying is...wow...what a wonderful world with such diversity of life.
Spring is a time of destroying the weeds, but planting the garden. We eradicate the ant hill erected at the bottom of the steps, but rejoice in hanging a bird feeder from the porch. We build the deluxe Marriott-style coop for the chickens and then we have them for dinner. It's all part of the plan of survival. In the pecking order of animal life, I am grateful I'm at the top of the food chain and not at the bottom with the eensy weensy spider. The next time you are out for a walk, be aware of the variety of life all around you and wonder at the miracle of God's creations, all creatures great and small.
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