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.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
10,000 Steps
Memorial Day weekend, May 30, 2010. It is a holiday set apart to honor those who have gone before. First and foremost are those that gave their lives for the freedoms we usually take for granted in America. I was probably in junior high school, but I still remember the day we received word that cousin Renee's husband had been killed in Vietnam. It was a tragic time. In our country's short life, millions have lost the battle in our defense. Millions have fought and returned home safely. In my ward lives a man who serves in the military. Each Memorial Day, 4th of July, Veterans Day, and any other patriotic holiday, he wears his uniform to church. It is an awesome sight. I appreciate his constant reminder of how blessed we are to be living here in the United States...problems and all. I remember a thought that is inscribed on a memorial at the Utah State Capitol Building. "For those who fought for it, freedom has a flavor the protected will never know."
Second, we honor our pioneer heritage. Our entire Singleton/Bennett ancestry came to Utah as Mormon pioneers. Some came by ship from England. Others migrated west from New England and Canada. A few encountered tragic situations as they came across the Midwest plains. But for the most part, their trek was uneventful. My mind reflects on the words to our Primary song. "Pioneer children sang as they walked, and walked, and walked...and walked." The same routine day after day; the same scenery; the same food, the same people, the same tiredness when the sun set. I would wager that many of our great-great grandparents complained about the journey and the monotony of each day. They were just human like you and me. But they also kept going with "faith in every footstep".
That's my focus today: footsteps. With a year and a half of cancer treatments and recovery, I haven't been diligent in keeping up a physical fitness program. I decided NOW was the time to start over. I bought a pedometer and challenged myself to walk 10,000 steps a day. The first day was embarrassing. Let's see. It's about ten steps to the copy machine and twenty steps to the ladies' room. Another fifty steps in and out of the office building and maybe twenty five steps in and around the kitchen for dinner. I was lucky to have recorded over 200 steps. So my goal of walking 10,000 steps a day seemed as daunting as crossing Nebraska for James Bennett. This last week I made a conscientious effort to go the "extra mile". I went out walking in the mornings (weather permitting) and spent time on the treadmill at night. The highest recorded number reached 8,500...until yesterday.
Saturday was a good day. I clocked 4,000 steps on my morning walk; another 1,000 at the grocery story; about 3,000 mowing the lawn and doing yard work. The remaining 2,000 came with chores, errands and activities of the day. I celebrated my first day of reaching the goal of 10,000 steps. Hurray!
I acknowledge the blessing of being able to walk. I humbly recognize that some people cannot. Some of us take baby steps. Some steps are slower than in years before. Some steps are painful and are limited. But regardless of the number of steps we take each day, Great-Grandma Phoebe showed us that it is the amount of faith in each one that matters and the direction we are going.
So this Memorial Day as we honor the footsteps of those tramping on the muddy battlefields or along the dusty Mormon Trail, I hope the footsteps of today are lasting legacies for generations to come. One day Chloe, Daxsen and McKean will relate to their grandchildren the tales of how we "sang as we walked, and walked, and walked....and walked" in faith.
Second, we honor our pioneer heritage. Our entire Singleton/Bennett ancestry came to Utah as Mormon pioneers. Some came by ship from England. Others migrated west from New England and Canada. A few encountered tragic situations as they came across the Midwest plains. But for the most part, their trek was uneventful. My mind reflects on the words to our Primary song. "Pioneer children sang as they walked, and walked, and walked...and walked." The same routine day after day; the same scenery; the same food, the same people, the same tiredness when the sun set. I would wager that many of our great-great grandparents complained about the journey and the monotony of each day. They were just human like you and me. But they also kept going with "faith in every footstep".
That's my focus today: footsteps. With a year and a half of cancer treatments and recovery, I haven't been diligent in keeping up a physical fitness program. I decided NOW was the time to start over. I bought a pedometer and challenged myself to walk 10,000 steps a day. The first day was embarrassing. Let's see. It's about ten steps to the copy machine and twenty steps to the ladies' room. Another fifty steps in and out of the office building and maybe twenty five steps in and around the kitchen for dinner. I was lucky to have recorded over 200 steps. So my goal of walking 10,000 steps a day seemed as daunting as crossing Nebraska for James Bennett. This last week I made a conscientious effort to go the "extra mile". I went out walking in the mornings (weather permitting) and spent time on the treadmill at night. The highest recorded number reached 8,500...until yesterday.
Saturday was a good day. I clocked 4,000 steps on my morning walk; another 1,000 at the grocery story; about 3,000 mowing the lawn and doing yard work. The remaining 2,000 came with chores, errands and activities of the day. I celebrated my first day of reaching the goal of 10,000 steps. Hurray!
I acknowledge the blessing of being able to walk. I humbly recognize that some people cannot. Some of us take baby steps. Some steps are slower than in years before. Some steps are painful and are limited. But regardless of the number of steps we take each day, Great-Grandma Phoebe showed us that it is the amount of faith in each one that matters and the direction we are going.
So this Memorial Day as we honor the footsteps of those tramping on the muddy battlefields or along the dusty Mormon Trail, I hope the footsteps of today are lasting legacies for generations to come. One day Chloe, Daxsen and McKean will relate to their grandchildren the tales of how we "sang as we walked, and walked, and walked....and walked" in faith.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Synergy
I first learned about synergy at the Epcot Center inside Disney World many years ago. It had something to do with the whole producing more energy than the sum of the parts...or was it the other way around? Per Wikipedia, synergy is where different entities cooperate advantageously for a final outcome. Teamwork will produce an overall better result than if each person was working toward the same goal individually.
There have been times in my life when I have been part of a synergistic team. As students at Utah State, Shauna and I volunteered to be part of the relief efforts during the Teton Dam cleanup. There was a feeling among the participants that urged everyone to work a little harder. We fed off each other's energy. In a weird way, I also feel this concept at the Gear Up Seminars we attend each year for work. There are thousands attending for the same purpose of learning all we can about the new tax laws for the upcoming season. Each person could study on their own, but synergy of the combined whole is more conducive to learning.
I can imagine that Amy feels synergy in running her marathons. The individual runners add to the determination to finish. Synergy can be experienced in presidencies and councils, families, employees, neighborhoods, countries, congregations...you name it. Did we feel it after 9-11? Do we feel it in organized service projects or when we attend the Temple? I feel it at Education Week when 30,000 are gathered for the purpose of learning. What about an exciting Jazz game? There is some truth to the idea of "home court advantage".
One of my latest experiences was at the Salt Lake City's Susan G. Komen Race For the Cure. Ryan's work was competing in the fundraiser and got us involved. The synergy was tangible as 16,738 participants gathered in front of West High School...all wearing pink and white...all emotionally attached to a common cause. This was not really a race. Linda, Russ, Chloe and I opted for the one mile Fun Walk. About a hundred yards into the race, the Fun Walkers turned left while the other 3 to 5k runners went on ahead. Our pace was...let's just say the pace was an average between "snail" and "turtle". At one point we even stopped to watch the other participants from the sidelines.
On the other hand, Shannon, Ryan, Hayley and Cooper ventured out with the runners. At first their gait was slow because of the sheer number of people. But as the distance spread, so did the room to run. From our perspective as the runners advanced ahead of us, it appeared to be a mass of white shirts bobbing up and down. Hours later, everyone crossed the finish line...wherever that imaginary line was drawn in the crowd of people congregating at the Gateway Plaza!! (May I say that cell phones were a necessity. Otherwise, two weeks later, we would still be looking for each other in downtown Salt Lake City!)
It was just a sea of pink and white T-shirts. I felt we were actors on the set of Rawhide...head em up, move em out! Linda suggested our experience was much like Moses leading the children of Israel out of Egypt. And we all wondered what they did for potty breaks in the wilderness!! Survivor participants wore bright pink T-shirts. There were celebrations and congratulations spoken from pink shirt to pink shirt. Some white shirt participants wore tags on their backs indicating they were running in memory of Aunt Clara, or Mom, or Matilda the neighbor... because some don't survive. It was emotional and I was so grateful to be a pink shirter and not a name tag.
In the Wikipedia definition of synergy, they gave the example of two people wanting an apple from a tree. Neither person is tall enough to reach the juicy red apple. But if person A stands on the shoulders of person B, together they can not only pick one apple, but maybe a bushel of apples. I could have participated in the Race For the Cure alone. Ryan and Hayley could have done it without involving the rest of the family. But being there together and with the support of those of you with other responsbilities at home that morning, we combined our energy to make a difference and to create a wonderful memory.
I don't think any of us are tall enough to pick the apples from our trees in life. Figuratively, we have to stand on each others' shoulders. You have certainly allowed me to stand on yours for strength and courage and to stretch a little higher. Hopefully I can be strong when you need someone to stand on to reach your apple. Either way, together we stand very tall...not just in surviving cancer, but in all the concerns of our family. Another word for synergy is LOVE!
There have been times in my life when I have been part of a synergistic team. As students at Utah State, Shauna and I volunteered to be part of the relief efforts during the Teton Dam cleanup. There was a feeling among the participants that urged everyone to work a little harder. We fed off each other's energy. In a weird way, I also feel this concept at the Gear Up Seminars we attend each year for work. There are thousands attending for the same purpose of learning all we can about the new tax laws for the upcoming season. Each person could study on their own, but synergy of the combined whole is more conducive to learning.
I can imagine that Amy feels synergy in running her marathons. The individual runners add to the determination to finish. Synergy can be experienced in presidencies and councils, families, employees, neighborhoods, countries, congregations...you name it. Did we feel it after 9-11? Do we feel it in organized service projects or when we attend the Temple? I feel it at Education Week when 30,000 are gathered for the purpose of learning. What about an exciting Jazz game? There is some truth to the idea of "home court advantage".
One of my latest experiences was at the Salt Lake City's Susan G. Komen Race For the Cure. Ryan's work was competing in the fundraiser and got us involved. The synergy was tangible as 16,738 participants gathered in front of West High School...all wearing pink and white...all emotionally attached to a common cause. This was not really a race. Linda, Russ, Chloe and I opted for the one mile Fun Walk. About a hundred yards into the race, the Fun Walkers turned left while the other 3 to 5k runners went on ahead. Our pace was...let's just say the pace was an average between "snail" and "turtle". At one point we even stopped to watch the other participants from the sidelines.
On the other hand, Shannon, Ryan, Hayley and Cooper ventured out with the runners. At first their gait was slow because of the sheer number of people. But as the distance spread, so did the room to run. From our perspective as the runners advanced ahead of us, it appeared to be a mass of white shirts bobbing up and down. Hours later, everyone crossed the finish line...wherever that imaginary line was drawn in the crowd of people congregating at the Gateway Plaza!! (May I say that cell phones were a necessity. Otherwise, two weeks later, we would still be looking for each other in downtown Salt Lake City!)
It was just a sea of pink and white T-shirts. I felt we were actors on the set of Rawhide...head em up, move em out! Linda suggested our experience was much like Moses leading the children of Israel out of Egypt. And we all wondered what they did for potty breaks in the wilderness!! Survivor participants wore bright pink T-shirts. There were celebrations and congratulations spoken from pink shirt to pink shirt. Some white shirt participants wore tags on their backs indicating they were running in memory of Aunt Clara, or Mom, or Matilda the neighbor... because some don't survive. It was emotional and I was so grateful to be a pink shirter and not a name tag.
In the Wikipedia definition of synergy, they gave the example of two people wanting an apple from a tree. Neither person is tall enough to reach the juicy red apple. But if person A stands on the shoulders of person B, together they can not only pick one apple, but maybe a bushel of apples. I could have participated in the Race For the Cure alone. Ryan and Hayley could have done it without involving the rest of the family. But being there together and with the support of those of you with other responsbilities at home that morning, we combined our energy to make a difference and to create a wonderful memory.
I don't think any of us are tall enough to pick the apples from our trees in life. Figuratively, we have to stand on each others' shoulders. You have certainly allowed me to stand on yours for strength and courage and to stretch a little higher. Hopefully I can be strong when you need someone to stand on to reach your apple. Either way, together we stand very tall...not just in surviving cancer, but in all the concerns of our family. Another word for synergy is LOVE!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Dark Ages
For literature lovers, you might fantasize about living during the times of Julius Caesar, King Arthur, or even Kit Carson. But on the practical side, I doubt if any one of us would prefer living in 673 A.D. rather than 2010. Am I right? The Dark Ages sound exactly that: dark.
Last Friday, I had a suspicion that it was going to be a long night. As I was driving home from work about 6:00 p.m. the traffic light at 6000 South wasn't working. (Side note: it is amazing how many people don't know or ignore the traffic rules.) Sure enough, when I pulled into my driveway and hit the "Open Sesame" button on the garage door opener, nothing happened. Yikes, I had to walk an extra three steps to get into the house!
Once inside I tried to think of chores to do that didn't require electricity. No vacuuming, laundry, cooking, computer work, sewing (not that I wanted to do them anyway, but it was frustrating to be limited in my freedom). I couldn't listen to the radio, television, or CD player. I guess I could dust, sweep, sing, read and play the piano. As I ate my meager supper of grapefruit and buttered bread, and wandered aimlessly about the house, I frequently looked out the windows. What I saw was intriguing. In every direction, the neighborhood was alive with activity...outside. Dads were playing nerfball with the little boys. Girls were riding their bicycles. Teenagers were walking the dogs. And can you believe this one? Neighbors were actually visiting with each other on the sidewalks! Crazy, man! It dawned on me that instead of families being holed up behind closed doors cooking supper and being buried in electronic devices, they were living life. It was a phenomenon that only happens this day and age when the power goes out.
A couple of weeks ago I had my three month checkup. I was especially anxious to be told the results of the tumor marker testing. To my surprise and relief, all results were in the normal range. All except for a deficiency in Vitamin D. (Well, I'm deficient in a lot of ways...social tact, memory power, and sex appeal...but Vitamin D?) Dr. Ingersoll inquired about my exercising habits. I hung my head in shame. I explained the life of a tax preparer during January, February, March and April. She understood. She wrote out her prescription: daily walks in the sunshine.
I have found that easier said than done. In the last two months, have we had more than two days in a row without rain or snow? The forecasts have alternated between partly cloudy and mostly cloudy. I don't feel safe walking alone in any neighborhood. It's dark when I get up in the morning; too hot when I get home from work; and walking the block during a lunch hour only produces sweaty, swollen feet for the rest of the day. So what am I supposed to do? If I were smart, I'd do what my neighbors did on Friday night. I would turn off all the electrical gadgets and just go outside with the rest of the world.
Gone are the days when neighbors visited on the front porch; the children congregated in the backyard for tag and races; we walked to the store, church meetings, school and to the cornfields; we put the laundry outside on the clothesline to dry; or after a hard day's work, we meditated on the veranda. I think I could soak in a lot of sunny rays and Vitamin D if today were 1910 instead of 2010.
Vitamin D is important medically. I was reading last night in my Coping magazine where 69 percent of women being treated for breast cancer had low levels of D. These lower levels are linked to decreased bone mineral density and increases the risk of cancer recurrence. But maybe equally as important are the social implications. It would be easy to find myself deficient in neighborly kindness. I guess I better limit my dependence on electricity and get out in the sunshine and the neighborhood. You just never know when Rocky Mountain Power is going to take another vacation and I want to be ready.
So Monday I will be playing Hopscotch on the driveway. Tuesday I will be skipping in the park. I think Wednesday would be a good day to go door to door to see who's home. Thursday, I will take my lunch hour to buy a walking dog companion. Friday I will play hooky from work and ride my bicycle to Antelope Island. And Saturday would be ideal for planting pansies. If anyone wants to join me, turn off the GS64 (or whatever) and the oven. I'd be glad to have some company.
Last Friday, I had a suspicion that it was going to be a long night. As I was driving home from work about 6:00 p.m. the traffic light at 6000 South wasn't working. (Side note: it is amazing how many people don't know or ignore the traffic rules.) Sure enough, when I pulled into my driveway and hit the "Open Sesame" button on the garage door opener, nothing happened. Yikes, I had to walk an extra three steps to get into the house!
Once inside I tried to think of chores to do that didn't require electricity. No vacuuming, laundry, cooking, computer work, sewing (not that I wanted to do them anyway, but it was frustrating to be limited in my freedom). I couldn't listen to the radio, television, or CD player. I guess I could dust, sweep, sing, read and play the piano. As I ate my meager supper of grapefruit and buttered bread, and wandered aimlessly about the house, I frequently looked out the windows. What I saw was intriguing. In every direction, the neighborhood was alive with activity...outside. Dads were playing nerfball with the little boys. Girls were riding their bicycles. Teenagers were walking the dogs. And can you believe this one? Neighbors were actually visiting with each other on the sidewalks! Crazy, man! It dawned on me that instead of families being holed up behind closed doors cooking supper and being buried in electronic devices, they were living life. It was a phenomenon that only happens this day and age when the power goes out.
A couple of weeks ago I had my three month checkup. I was especially anxious to be told the results of the tumor marker testing. To my surprise and relief, all results were in the normal range. All except for a deficiency in Vitamin D. (Well, I'm deficient in a lot of ways...social tact, memory power, and sex appeal...but Vitamin D?) Dr. Ingersoll inquired about my exercising habits. I hung my head in shame. I explained the life of a tax preparer during January, February, March and April. She understood. She wrote out her prescription: daily walks in the sunshine.
I have found that easier said than done. In the last two months, have we had more than two days in a row without rain or snow? The forecasts have alternated between partly cloudy and mostly cloudy. I don't feel safe walking alone in any neighborhood. It's dark when I get up in the morning; too hot when I get home from work; and walking the block during a lunch hour only produces sweaty, swollen feet for the rest of the day. So what am I supposed to do? If I were smart, I'd do what my neighbors did on Friday night. I would turn off all the electrical gadgets and just go outside with the rest of the world.
Gone are the days when neighbors visited on the front porch; the children congregated in the backyard for tag and races; we walked to the store, church meetings, school and to the cornfields; we put the laundry outside on the clothesline to dry; or after a hard day's work, we meditated on the veranda. I think I could soak in a lot of sunny rays and Vitamin D if today were 1910 instead of 2010.
Vitamin D is important medically. I was reading last night in my Coping magazine where 69 percent of women being treated for breast cancer had low levels of D. These lower levels are linked to decreased bone mineral density and increases the risk of cancer recurrence. But maybe equally as important are the social implications. It would be easy to find myself deficient in neighborly kindness. I guess I better limit my dependence on electricity and get out in the sunshine and the neighborhood. You just never know when Rocky Mountain Power is going to take another vacation and I want to be ready.
So Monday I will be playing Hopscotch on the driveway. Tuesday I will be skipping in the park. I think Wednesday would be a good day to go door to door to see who's home. Thursday, I will take my lunch hour to buy a walking dog companion. Friday I will play hooky from work and ride my bicycle to Antelope Island. And Saturday would be ideal for planting pansies. If anyone wants to join me, turn off the GS64 (or whatever) and the oven. I'd be glad to have some company.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Deadlines
It was inevitable. I had to take several weeks off from writing my Grace Notes to take care of business. With only twenty four hours each day and sixteen of them being spent at work, there was little time for creative journaling. But I am anxious to be back, with the hope that my words will uplift and encourage both reader and writer.
This may surprise you...not the fact that I have an obsolete 1970 edition of a Merriam-Webster Dictionary, but of what I found as a definition. I looked up the word "deadline". Number One definition was: "A line drawn within or around a prison that a prisoner passes at the risk of being shot." Am I the only person that didn't know that? It makes sense, however. A line...you cross...you're dead. Not that the IRS would go to such extreme measures, but I felt missing the April 15th deadline was equally life threatening. So I put all my time and energy into the days leading up to the final day.
This may also surprise you. The IRS is somewhat merciful. If a taxpayer knows they cannot complete their return by April 15th, an extension for filing (not in paying, they still want their money)is granted. That's very thoughtful of them. I have two boxes of taxpayer files waiting for October 15th. But being human, they will probably sit there until October 13th, at which time there will be another scramble to meet the deadline.
Consider some of these other routine deadlines and extensions we face everyday.
Deadline: 4:45 a.m. wake up time
Extension: Snooze button
Deadline: "Be ye therefore perfect"
Extension: Repentance and forgiveness
Deadline: Lose 15 pounds by the end of the year
Extension: New Year's resolution
Deadline: Last Micheal Bolton song on my favorite CD
Extension: Auto replay
Deadline: Crossing off the "to do" list
Extension: New sunrise
Deadline: Starting time for Sacrament Meeting
Extension: Mormon Standard Time
Deadline: Mortality
Extension: Resurrection
Deadline: Complete and turn in a homework assignment
Extension: No, there is no extension. You accept the consequence of a failing grade
Let's face the facts of human existence. We are driven and ruled by the calendar and the clock. We need to be at the workplace by 8:00 a.m. Soccer practice begins at 6:30 p.m. Piano lessons last one half hour. Children need to be in bed by 9:00 p.m. The Jazz have 6.9 seconds to score two more points to win the game. The birthday cake is baked for 35 minutes. Home and visiting teaching must be completed by the 31st. The wonderful sale at Kohl's only lasts until May 15th. If we miss the deadline for inhaling good, semi-clean oxygen...well, that's a deadline you don't want to miss.
So, is there a moral to this Grace Notes today? Probably not. I just needed to explain my absence. But I am reminded of a scripture I used in Sharing Time last week. It is found in Alma 34:32. "For behold, this life is the time for men to prepare to meet God; yea, behold the day of this life is the day for men to perform their labors." Subsequent verses counsel to not procrastinate our repentance, because this life is our training for eternity. Perhaps, I have already shared this memory with you. I am reminded of an old Twilight Zone episode. A man has a pocket watch that stops time for everyone but the holder of the watch. In the beginning, it is great fun to push the button, and time and people stand still. He can rob a bank; eat a delicious meal without paying; play pranks on the statuesque-like neighbor, etc. With another push of the button, time resumes and life goes on. However, at the climax of the episode, while in limbo mode, the man drops the watch. It shatters and is irreparable. He wanders through the world...alone...forever...without TIME.
I am grateful for deadlines. We need them to motivate, direct and urge us on to do and to be. They serve the purpose of dividing up our minutes and hours into manageable segments of progress. Oops, got to go now. My deadline for writing is up and I have to get my hair dried. If I miss that deadline, I frizz!!!!!
This may surprise you...not the fact that I have an obsolete 1970 edition of a Merriam-Webster Dictionary, but of what I found as a definition. I looked up the word "deadline". Number One definition was: "A line drawn within or around a prison that a prisoner passes at the risk of being shot." Am I the only person that didn't know that? It makes sense, however. A line...you cross...you're dead. Not that the IRS would go to such extreme measures, but I felt missing the April 15th deadline was equally life threatening. So I put all my time and energy into the days leading up to the final day.
This may also surprise you. The IRS is somewhat merciful. If a taxpayer knows they cannot complete their return by April 15th, an extension for filing (not in paying, they still want their money)is granted. That's very thoughtful of them. I have two boxes of taxpayer files waiting for October 15th. But being human, they will probably sit there until October 13th, at which time there will be another scramble to meet the deadline.
Consider some of these other routine deadlines and extensions we face everyday.
Deadline: 4:45 a.m. wake up time
Extension: Snooze button
Deadline: "Be ye therefore perfect"
Extension: Repentance and forgiveness
Deadline: Lose 15 pounds by the end of the year
Extension: New Year's resolution
Deadline: Last Micheal Bolton song on my favorite CD
Extension: Auto replay
Deadline: Crossing off the "to do" list
Extension: New sunrise
Deadline: Starting time for Sacrament Meeting
Extension: Mormon Standard Time
Deadline: Mortality
Extension: Resurrection
Deadline: Complete and turn in a homework assignment
Extension: No, there is no extension. You accept the consequence of a failing grade
Let's face the facts of human existence. We are driven and ruled by the calendar and the clock. We need to be at the workplace by 8:00 a.m. Soccer practice begins at 6:30 p.m. Piano lessons last one half hour. Children need to be in bed by 9:00 p.m. The Jazz have 6.9 seconds to score two more points to win the game. The birthday cake is baked for 35 minutes. Home and visiting teaching must be completed by the 31st. The wonderful sale at Kohl's only lasts until May 15th. If we miss the deadline for inhaling good, semi-clean oxygen...well, that's a deadline you don't want to miss.
So, is there a moral to this Grace Notes today? Probably not. I just needed to explain my absence. But I am reminded of a scripture I used in Sharing Time last week. It is found in Alma 34:32. "For behold, this life is the time for men to prepare to meet God; yea, behold the day of this life is the day for men to perform their labors." Subsequent verses counsel to not procrastinate our repentance, because this life is our training for eternity. Perhaps, I have already shared this memory with you. I am reminded of an old Twilight Zone episode. A man has a pocket watch that stops time for everyone but the holder of the watch. In the beginning, it is great fun to push the button, and time and people stand still. He can rob a bank; eat a delicious meal without paying; play pranks on the statuesque-like neighbor, etc. With another push of the button, time resumes and life goes on. However, at the climax of the episode, while in limbo mode, the man drops the watch. It shatters and is irreparable. He wanders through the world...alone...forever...without TIME.
I am grateful for deadlines. We need them to motivate, direct and urge us on to do and to be. They serve the purpose of dividing up our minutes and hours into manageable segments of progress. Oops, got to go now. My deadline for writing is up and I have to get my hair dried. If I miss that deadline, I frizz!!!!!
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