One of Those Days

 Amidst a country struggling with religious, political, and moral strife, it is difficult to find a subject that exalts and promotes some of  the normal, everyday events; something that takes us away from our screens, our often sour and bitter rants and disagreements. 

Today is one of those days. The idea began in the Spokane Central Methodist Episcopal Church in the early 1900's, when Sonora Smart Dodd listened to a sermon on the values of Mother's Day. Sonora was the oldest of 6 children, her mother had died during the birth of her sixth child when Sonora was 16 years old. Like any person would, she assisted her father, a civil war veteran, in the raising of her five brothers; and she was in awe of the wonderful job her father had done raising the family. She approached the Spokane Ministerial Alliance about having a day dedicated to fathers, and on June 19, 1910, Spokane WA celebrated the first Father's Day. President Lyndon Johnson signed a Presidential Proclamation in 1966 declaring the third Sunday in June Father's Day, and President Richard Nixon established a permanent national observance on the third Sunday in June as Father's Day in 1972.   

As I said, today is one of those days. I thank God for our son, who is quietly exhibiting all of the characteristics of a good, no, make that great, father. His three children are shown the love, care, and strength of good parenting each and every day. Mike and his wife are raising their children in an atmosphere of education, love, and happiness. He takes the time to explain the whys and hows of the world to them, while showing by example the manner in which good people live in harmony with others. When difficulties arise, as they do in all families, rather than sit around moaning and blaming some "other" or some outside force, he responds with great mental acuity and finds solutions to the problems. He is not afraid to admit when he is wrong, even to his children, and he is willing to do what it takes to set everything aright. He, and his wife, expect and assist their children to achieve goals, to be well-educated and compassionate. He encourages his children to explore their talents, and has not missed any extracurricular activities as the children progress through school. 

As you might surmise from the preceding paragraph, I am very proud of our son. Please join me in "raising a glass" to good Fathers everywhere! 

Thank you for reading; please share this page with anyone in your circle who might enjoy it. Please leave any comments or thoughts in the space below. 

Happy Father's Day! 

R. M. "Bob" Hartman

Nature and Science

 It's a blustery fall day in northern Utah, we are camped beside a reservoir watching the wind stripping the last leaves from the gamble oaks. That same wind pushes the dark, heavy clouds against the mountains, only to watch them slide over the ridges, laughing as they take the promised moisture away, another example of nature ruling against the desires of humans, a reminder that man does not control nature. 

No, man does not control nature, or rather science (as nature is only a manifestation of science in a physical state); regardless of his failed attempts to influence nature as displayed through the centuries by prayers, alters, offerings, and sacrifices galore.

Even as the alchemists tried and failed to turn lead into gold, they tried again and again, only to fail each time. We may indeed use nature, such as the construction of this reservoir to harvest and store snowmelt to provide irrigation water during the dry summer, but we cannot create more snow than nature supplies, nor ban the droughts which plague our farmers.  

In fine, we cannot control nature. we may be able, with increasing accuracy, to predict the storms and their intensity, but we cannot command them away. We are able to better protect ourselves from nature's furies and better respond when they occur, but we cannot govern nature's course. 

Which brings me to the novel Cronavirus and our responses, or lack thereof, to the deadly Covid-19. Coronavirus, which has existed in some animals, mutated and now is a plague on all humans. It does not care if you are a communist, fascist, socialist, republican, democrat, independent, rich, poor, gay, straight, or undecided. It is nature, and nature does not care about you or I. Not even our President can declare it away.

Covid-19 does not care about Easter, or warmer weather. It concerns itself not if our schools or business are open, surprisingly, it does not give a wit about our upcoming election.

Science does know some facts about this scourge, and science tells us that wearing a mask, washing your hands frequently, disinfecting commonly-touched surfaces, and practicing social distancing helps to slow the spread of this leveler of mankind. These are facts, proven facts; they do not belong to either a political party, a particular person, or a specific faith. We may not like these facts, but they are facts. 

If you do not want to spread Covid-19, or see your family members sicken and perhaps die, wear a mask. If you do not want to see your child or your grandfather die from Coronavirus, wear a mask. If you want to help the country recover and prosper again, wear a mask. Stop trying to make it a political statement, or about government overreach or your personal freedom; frankly it is bigger than all that. 

It's about your life, and yes, your personal responsibility to all those around you, everyone you come in contact with. It's the bagger at the grocery store, the clerk at the hardware store, the dry cleaner, the receptionist at your place of work. 

JUST WEAR THE DAMN MASK!

Thank you for reading; feel free to share this post if you desire. Comments and thoughts are encouraged and allowed, just click the pencil in the box below to leave a comment. 

R. M. "Bob" Hartman      

It’s Father’s Day

June 16, 2019; a day that surprisingly, has only been a “holiday” since President Richard M. Nixon signed this day into law in 1972. Wait, it’s been a holiday since Lyndon Baines Johnson declared it a holiday in 1966! Well, no, back further. . . in 1913, a bill was introduced in Congress to recognize Father’s Day but failed to pass to due fears it would become commercialized! (What, congress feared commercialization of a holiday! How things have changed.)

But I digress from the basis of this post. I’m doing my weekend chores, like mowing the lawn, when I hear a loud “GRANDPA!” I turn, and our second grandchild, Sarah, comes around to give me a big hug, and saying, I had a few minutes and wanted to see you. How wonderful that was, how surprising for me, how fulfilling for a grandfather, for a father. When your grandchildren, and your children, remember you, and take the time to say HI! How good it feels.

WOW-her sister (our oldest grandchild) had been here a few hours before, how much better can it get? Much better, actually; our son had posted his thoughts about me on social media a day or two ago, for everyone to see. He succeeded in bringing this father to tears.

I didn’t have the luxury of a father for most of my life, as some of you know. So, I have very limited expectations of expressions for this day, regardless of my efforts.  And, frankly, I’ve not always been the “Ward Cleaver” type of father.

It’s been said, you never know the effect you will have on a child. My son expressed recently on his social media that I was a good example for his son.

 I can only hope I live up to his expectations.

To my fellow fathers, A happy Father’s Day to you, let’s celebrate!   

As always, your comments are welcome!

Contemplation

Sunday, June 18, 2017, 5:08 AM, MDT. I woke early this morning to the sound of coyotes, singing good night to the moon and good morning to the sun. A simple act, one they have repeated since time immemorial.

Living as I do in suburbia, it is an unusual alarm clock for me; one that brings a needed reminder that life does not always follow our manmade rhythms of nine-to-five. Perhaps, more importantly, it reminds me that my life form and style is only one of a multitude on this planet that we call Earth, the planet we call home.  

Putting on the coffee, I step outside and open my ears, eyes, and mind to nature. Perhaps you would call this a spiritual moment, a period of meditation; for there is no sense of myself now. I am immersed and engaged, yet invisible, in the landscape that surrounds me. There is nothing I need attend to right now, nothing that requires my action or presence. Instead, my attention is caught by the jackrabbits, nibbling on the prairie grasses as they eye the sky for airborne predators. Fortunately, not the drones that catch our attention on the 6 PM news, but eagles and hawks soaring on thermals as they also search for breakfast. Meadowlarks and a host of other birds, whose calls I do not recognize as easily, chip their wakeup calls and greetings; a lizard scamper past the fire pit, and swallows a small, evidently tasty bug. Well, at least he thinks it is tasty!

Kathleen has joined me now, and we sip our coffee, talking quietly. We discuss how the landscape to the west of us, which was so brilliantly outlined last night by the setting sun, has a palette of greens, blues, browns and reds becoming visible to the eye as the sun illuminates the landscape, a landscape defined eons ago by ice and geologic shifts. We trace where water, a resource so precious to all life-forms, is still present beneath the ground, making itself known to us by the presence of trees; pathways of life, if you will.

Howie, our yellow lab/greyhound companion, came out of the trailer with Kathleen and is now cautiously exploring these surroundings, he is an urban dog; therefore, the scents and sounds available are unusual to him. He carefully extends his exploration of our campsite, going a little further with each trek, carefully eyeing his surroundings and keeping a watchful eye on us. He is, after all, our self-appointed protector!

My tranquility is momentarily disturbed as I reflect on the current attempts, not only in Utah but in most western states, to “take back” lands owned and managed by the federal government and put them under state control. Utah, and other states west of the Mississippi river, contain large portions of land ceded to the U.S. government in our respective state constitutions. These lands are now locked in the sights of state legislators as potential revenue sources; they could, the argument goes, be “privatized” and thereby generate short-term revenues to state budgets; budgets strapped by the on-going demand for government services. Legislators feel the need to increase revenues, and, cowards that they are, remain fearful that any attempts to raise taxes on those that demand services would be detrimental to their re-election. Does this movement affect me personally? You can bet the farm on that, I am camped on BLM land at this moment.

However, I push those thoughts out of my mind for now; Kathleen and I came here to enjoy ourselves; I can deal with this nasty subject at a later date and time.

This trip has been a weekend-long period of meditation for me, a period of reflection. I have experienced many changes and upheavals in my life over the past several weeks, and needed time to think and talk about these changes and how they have affected me, and those people near and dear to me. These changes were inevitable, and in retrospect, necessary for my continuance as a person; change, however, is often painful and difficult. Some of you are aware of these changes, and for your love and support, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

In particular, I cannot find the words to thank you enough, Kathleen. You are my life-long companion, and even through these events of late, you have supported and loved me, as difficult as these events and changes been for both of us. I am eagerly anticipating our new adventures and escapades as life continues to unfold.  (Poorly worded, but it’s the best I can do!)

Thank you for reading; your comments, as always, are appreciated.

 R.M. “Bob Hartman

The Question Is. . .

Republican Senator Mike Lee, the junior senator from Utah, posted an op-ed in the Deseret News (4/27/2015), in which he purports to discuss the question before the Supreme Court; namely, should same-sex marriage be legal and honored throughout the United States of America?

However, the good Senator misstated the question. To quote his article:

“Tomorrow the Supreme Court will hear oral arguments in a case involving four separate lawsuits, each dealing with the same question: does the U.S. Constitution require the redefinition of marriage?”

Sorry, Senator, but you misstated the question. The question is not redefining marriage, rather it is "should same sex marriage be given equality with opposite sex marriage?" In America, the civil contract known as marriage grants the individuals participating certain rights, privileges, prerogatives, and responsibilities. These include, but are not limited to, such rights and privileges as visitation at hospitals, end of life decisions, joint ownership of property, right of survivorship, filing taxes jointly; and should include having your marriage recognized as legal in all 50 states and the District of Columbia.

To further quote you, Senator:

“And unless it’s an issue of specifically national or interstate consequence, the Constitution directs this decision-making process to occur at the state level, to create the space for the greatest diversity of opinions to be expressed.”

Your own sentence, Senator Lee. I suggest you read, and re-read it, carefully. It is one of the best arguments for equality of same sex marriage.

Today, SSM is legal and recognized in 36 states and the District of Columbia. If a same-sex couple is legally wed in Utah, should they not also have the same rights, privileges, prerogatives and responsibilities if they move to Texas?

Marriage has already been defined as a civil right by the United States Supreme Court. Civil rights should not be limited to the current state of residence; rather, they should be recognized throughout the land.

Therefore, Senator, this is an issue of specific national consequence. Thank you for making the case for equality of same sex marriage in the United States of America.

As always, your comments and opinions are welcome.  

R.M. Bob Hartman

Source: http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865627365/Let-people-not-courts-define-marriage.html retrieved April 28, 2015

Through the Eyes of a Child

As adults, we rise up and power through our days, focusing on the concerns and employments that affect our own existence, and the affairs of the world. We forget, sometimes, how the simple things can provide immense pleasure to our lives. . .

This morning, as I was at my desk ruminating on world and local events (courtesy of the internet and the local paper), a small sound came to my ears. My youngest granddaughter slowly and carefully opened the door of my office, peered around it, and very quietly said “Good morning, Grandpa.”

She looked out the window. “The sun woked up. And I woked up. Does the sun eat breakfast, Grandpa?” I smiled, and said, “I don’t know, but I bet you would like some breakfast.” So we went to the kitchen, and I prepared her a bowl of cereal (colored circles, please, Grandpa, and orange juice). I fixed a cup of coffee, and listened to her chatter on about how dogs have four feet, but they are called paws, and people don’t have paws, people have only two feet, but we have hands; the reflection of her bowl of cereal on her glass of juice, and so forth, as she ate her cereal and drank her juice. I reflected on how much she enjoys life, enjoys taking each minute of life and finding wonder in it. How much she revels in sharing her thoughts, openly, without worrying if she is talking too much or making a fool of herself.

On our kitchen wall, we have an impressionist painting of a street scene that my wife and I purchased some time back; it reminds us of Seville, and a wonderful trip we had taken to that ancient Andalusian city. She looked up at it, as if seeing it for the first time, and asked me about it. How do you explain the emotions of a trip down memory lane to a four year old? I did my best, and then she looked at our dog, and commented about how he had so much hair, and never had to wear clothes. On to the next subject!

Now she is joined by her older sister, and I am treated to a continuous litany of (to me) unconnected thoughts running rampant through their minds.
How today was a no school day. They like to play outside, but it was raining, so they would stay inside. But they can’t go outside unless an adult is with them. Jonathan can’t walk yet, ‘cause he is a baby. And on and on.
I lost track of the events I was studying so hard a half hour ago, and become entranced by their view of the world and life in it.

I forgot, for that brief moment in time, about the tragic plane crash, the terrorist attack on a college in Kenya, the letters and bills on my desk that demand attention. My arthritis drifted to the back of my mind, as I watched them toss their hair around, smile and giggle at each other.

“With the eyes of a child
You must come out and see
That your world’s spinning round
And through life you will be
A small part of a hope of a love that exists
In the eyes of a child you will see.”
(John Lodge, 1969. The Moody Blues: To Our Children’s Children’s Children)

Yes, it is cloudy and misty today in the Salt Lake valley. The yard needs the moisture. . . etc., etc. Today, however, my world is full of springtime, sunshine and life!

Thank you, Esther and Martha, for bringing my feet back to the ground, and lifting my mind to the sky.

RM Hartman

Your thoughts and comments are, as always, welcome.

A Phone Call

I’m at my desk, in my office, listening as the breeze brings fall to the Wasatch Front. Jackson Browne is on the stereo, softly; he is one of my favorite songwriters/singers. As you may be able to tell, I am in a very good place right now and content with what is around me; how I arrived here is the subject of this essay.

A few weeks ago, a phone call changed my life in many ways. Our son called; he was in a tight spot, so to speak, and needed us. He needed to press re-set, needed some time for him and his family to regroup and re-create their surroundings.

So it came to pass, as they say, that he and his family now are here to brighten my life, my wife’s life; with energy, laughter, love; all created by (perhaps nurtured by) the presence of him and his young family. We now have three young, lively grandchildren in our home, playing and asking the questions only the young ask, in their innocent ways. It’s good, very good.

In so many ways, it is normal for family to fall back on each other in times of trouble, in difficult circumstances. I vividly remember those times in my own youth, and my family being there to assist and support me in similar circumstances, for which I am ever grateful. But in many ways, to me, this is so different; so much more “in your face” perhaps.

I am walking one of my granddaughters home from kindergarten and seeing my world, which I thought I knew well, become alive and vibrant again through her ever-open eyes. Watching as she picks a seeded dandelion from the parking strip and slowly blows the seeds away, entranced as they take flight. I slow my pace to hers, as she makes sure she does not step on the cracks and divisions in the sidewalk, laughing at everything and perhaps nothing in particular. Unlike most adults, she does not require a reason to smile, or laugh; perhaps the comfort of my hand in hers allows her the freedom to live in the moment, not worried about tomorrow or the homework she has to do later.

While she does that homework, her younger sister traces the outline of my hand onto a piece of paper, with her hand gripping the pencil and her brow furrowed in concentration. She cares not that the paper she is using came from a box in my office; it’s older than she and her sister combined (OK, it’s left over tractor-feed from a time when dot-matrix printers were common). Nor does it matter to her that it is not perfect; she holds it up with a big smile on her face to show Daddy when he comes home from work. Simple pleasures, these, simple times; but they bring so much joy to one who has not yet become jaded by the world outside our door. I smile, wistfully wishing I still had that innocence myself.

How can I do justice to my almost three-month old grandson with only a keyboard? Suffice it to say he can bring a smile to my face; he gives me a wide, happy grin while I tickle his chin and explain his duties and responsibilities to him as the youngest person in the house, while he stares at me, eyes wide open. He is smiling, perhaps because he is thinking, “I got you under my spell, Grandpa!” Or perhaps he is thinking, pick me up, let me wrap my tiny fist in your exposed chest hair as I burp on your shoulder. From his bouncy-chair, he watches as the pendulum in the grandfather (how appropriate) clock moves back and forth; his eyes follow it and he slowly falls to sleep.

Yes, I am in a very good place right now, certainly not where I expected to be at this point in my life, but it’s all good. I’m glad that my son made that phone call; I know it was difficult for him. Moreover, I am glad we are here, healthy and still able to help him and his family.

Life is Good!

As always, thanks for reading; if you care to comment, click on the “comment” below. RMH

Dispatch from Havre, MT.

Summer dawn comes slowly to north-central Montana, on the cusp of the Great Plains. Morning begins a full hour before sunrise, as the sun sends rays of light over the even eastern horizon, when the nighttime demons head to shelter. Coyotes and owls sing their final tune, and night gives way to dawn.

Morning here smells of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and exhaust. The tractors, trains, and diesels start up; tractors to the fields, trains on the Hi-Line off to the east and west, and diesels head out onto Highway 2. The grains grown here will be turned into pancakes, hog and chicken feed; all of it has to be moved around the country to become something you will pay for in your supermarket checkout. Life today is the same as yesterday and tomorrow.

I am amazed, every time I visit here. The clerks in the stores take the time to talk with you, to make sure you found everything you wanted (and then some more); and no one seems to be rushed as they are in major metropolitan areas. Yesterday I was in a local bike shop, looking for an odd-sized spacer. The owner said he was sure he had something like that, and disappeared to return with a small box of odd parts. We looked through it, and yes, found a good part; when I went to pay him, he said, “no, just glad to help you out.” Try that at your local Home Depot. No, the grocery stores don’t carry Quinoa or couscous but I did find a small pasta that could substitute in my recipe.

Is it perfect? No, the winters are bitter cold (-40 and a wind chill factor on top of that), and it is uncomfortably (for me) humid in the summer. But for some, it is a decent trade-off. We took our granddaughter to test for kindergarten, and I found out the class sizes range from 12 to 16. Wow. Double Wow; in the Salt Lake City area, we are dealing with 32-38 students per class. I should mention the bus stop (and the mailbox) is 1.5 miles from her house! Well, it is good exercise.

My son and his family live 5 miles (as the crow flies) from the post office, on a dirt road that becomes very greasy when it rains. Right now (10 PM), I can hear frogs, coyotes and an owl. Cottontail rabbits amused his two dogs this afternoon; the rabbits seem to know the dogs can only go so far on their tethers.

If you have the opportunity to visit Havre, MT., (http://www.havremt.com) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Havre,_Montana) I suggest Murphy’s Bar and Grill; Gary and Leo’s IGA (grocery); Triple Dog Brewing Company (https://www.facebook.com/brewon2) and Nalivkas Pizza (http://www.nalivkas.com/). Note: these are unpaid advertisements!

Utah's Legislature is Hurting our Children

Ah, children! The joy of every parent’s life; the happiness they bring to grandparents. We all want our children to grow up safe, healthy, and loved. To accomplish this, we teach them from a very early age to eat well, dress warmly, and wear their seat belts. Our physicians inoculate and vaccinate them, and attend to their various illnesses. As they progress through school, our educators add to the wealth of information that can assist our children to lead happy, productive, and healthy lives.

Unfortunately, there is also pressure to ignore what the parents, doctors, and teachers advise. Peer pressure can lead children into gangs, drugs, alcohol, and sex. As parents, we don’t want this to happen, and we try to educate our children to avoid risky behavior. We rely on the schools to re-enforce the principals we stress repeatedly to our youth.
Why then, would the Canyons School District in Utah physically remove pages 398-417 from the brand new health textbooks for its five high schools? (Rolly, Tribune)
Brand new textbooks, costing $76.19 each, had pages cut out of them by the school administration. Why?

Could it be because our legislature is afraid to have our children taught about sex? They think that if we teach children about sex, they will run out and start copulating like rabbits. Perhaps it is time to send our legislators back to school, to teach them some facts, some reality. Here’s what they need to learn: Utah teenagers and young adults are having sex now, without enough knowledge of how to protect themselves from unintended pregnancy or sexually transmitted diseases. And that, my dear readers, is not good.

Utah had a teenage pregnancy rate in 2011 of 23.1 per 1,000 women. The national average that same year was 31.3 per 1000, so we are doing better than some states, but not as well as others. However, the pregnancy rate is only part of the problem. What life-changes occur when teenage girls become pregnant? Here are some scary national statistics: 79% of teenagers who become pregnant are unmarried; 34 % of sexually active teenagers have at least one pregnancy before age 20, and 80% of teen mothers end up on welfare, for at least some period.

Utah has some scary statistics of its own to worry about, and they are not just about becoming pregnant. There are four major sexually transmitted diseases, and Utah has its share of them. The data here is all from 2011, and all supplied by the CDC. (The links are at the end of this article.) When I use the term population, I am referring to the 15-24 age groups, not the entire population.
Chlamydia, the so-called silent epidemic, is the most common STD in Utah; it was diagnosed in 4740 teenagers in 2011. That is a rate of 1059 for every 100,000 teenagers/young adults. The second most prevalent STD in Utah is gonorrhea, in 2011 there were 119 new cases confirmed in the 15-24 age grouping. The rate for gonorrhea was 26.6 per 100,000 of our teenage/young adult population. Next on the list is syphilis, which was diagnosed in two cases in 2011, for the same population, this puts it at .4 for every 100,000 young adults. Are you concerned about our children’s health yet?

You should be very concerned, in fact we all should be. Here is a statistic that should really frighten you. In 2011, 81 new cases of HIV infection were reported in our target group; and, even more frightening, 2091 of our 13-24 teenagers/young adults were living with the HIV infection.
Let’s do some simple math: in 2011, 5,377 unmarried teenagers/young adults gave birth (23 were under 15!); 4,740 teenagers/young adults were diagnosed with Chlamydia; 119 with gonorrhea, 2 with syphilis, and 2172 had the HIV infection.
Twelve thousand, four hundred and ten of our teenagers/young adults had their lives dramatically changed. 12,410 lives negatively affected in 2011 alone. So why do I want the legislature to go back to school?

The laws in Utah, created by our head in the sand legislature, do not allow discussion, by the teacher or in the textbook, about contraception, STD’s, sexual arousal, masturbation or alternative life-styles. Our legislature believes that teaching about sex in school may violate a parent’s right to control what information (about sex) their children receive. Remember, we are talking about high school students here, students that regularly use the internet, with wireless devices that connect them to the internet 24/7/365, provided by the parents. Well, mom, dad, and legislature, here is a news flash for you. Johnny and Sally are having sex, whether you like it or not. You don’t want to think Utah’s children are in any way sexually active, but that is obviously incorrect. You want to believe that if we raise our children in good homes, and don’t tell them about sex, they won’t get curious, they won’t experiment. Sadly, that is not reality, that is not what the data shows. That is the reason, however, why Canyons School District cut the pages out of 315 textbooks. (Canyons had originally ordered textbooks for 3000 students, so they have now gone back to the publisher to have the textbooks re-created without the offending sections.) It is ridiculous, it is wrong, and it is unfair to our children. It also means that there will not be new health books for the high school students until the next school year.

This legislative session in Utah, the legislators will consider SB31, which will raise the legal age to buy tobacco products in Utah from 19 to 21. The senator proposing this law says that this will prevent 4,740 teenagers/young adults from smoking. That is a good, albeit questionable motive. (If you are old enough to die for your country, I think you are mature enough to decide if you want to smoke.) If the good senator is concerned about the health of our young adults, should not the health of 12,410 teenagers/young adults be a greater concern than that of 4,740?

There are ways to reduce teen pregnancy and STD transmission; they include education at home and at school, availability of effective birth control, and good parenting/mentoring. The CDC has a program to reduce teen the number of pregnancies, here is one of the components that bears strongly on this discussion:
“Providing teens with evidence-based teen pregnancy prevention programs, including youth development and curriculum-based programs that reduce teen pregnancy and associated risk factors.”
Twelve thousand, four hundred and ten of our teenagers/young adults had their health, and their lives, put at risk due to our state-sponsored policy of “Don’t Tell.” It’s time to change that policy, and educate our children.

Thanks for reading my thoughts. Please feel free to add your comments, just click on the pencil to open the comment box!

Paul Rolly’s Tribune article is here: http://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/politics/57506243-90/district-books-sexual-policy.html.csp

Utah birth rates are here: http://health.utah.gov/vitalrecords/2011bx_UpdatedFinal_03292013.pdf

CDC Statistics are here: http://www.cdc.gov/std/stats/by-age/15-24-all-STDs/state/2011/UT11.pdf http://www.cdc.gov/hiv/pdf/HSSR_MSA_2013-PDF04.pdf

CDC program to reduce teen pregnancy: http://www.cdc.gov/TeenPregnancy/PreventTeenPreg.htm

Doctor's Orders

“There’s a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin’ like a toad”
The Doors

The state of Utah enjoys one of the nation’s lowest alcohol-related highway fatality rates; in part due to aggressive enforcement of its’ drunken driver laws. Our governor and legislature repeatedly congratulate themselves on this good news. Billboards along all major highways announce the cost of driving “buzzed” (10K, minimum); and in the state-owned (only) liquor stores, there are signs warning customers that driving while intoxicated is a crime and is aggressively prosecuted in Utah. Aggressive enforcement, billboards, and posters are only part of the reason Utah has a low death by drunk rate.

The truth is, most Utah citizens do not drink at all. Sixty five to eighty five percent of the adults in this state are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints*, depending upon your source authority. Active, believing members do not use alcohol at all. Certainly, that is their choice; I am not denigrating that in the least. If you don’t drink, you will not cause a drunken driver accident.

Our (80% LDS) legislature in Utah is about to convene. Normally, the LDS Church does not take a publicly announced stand on issues coming to the session, but this year it has. The past few weeks have seen TV advertisements, interviews with news stations, and a you-tube clip, announcing that our liquor laws are fine just as they stand today; there is no need for legislative correction to them this year. Why? Well, one of the major concerns facing our legislature is the so-called Zion Curtain, a wall, of a designated height, behind which bartenders store, mix and pour alcoholic beverages. All new restaurants, bars, or clubs –including national chains- are required to have this wall installed. The dining and tourism industries have asked this regulation be rescinded. (The purpose of this wall is to keep children from becoming alcoholics because they watched drinks being prepared.)

There is a 7 -seven- ton elephant in the room, which the LDS Church, governor, and legislature will not address. I will address it. That issue is prescription drug abuse, and the deaths from that abuse.

Nationally, 2.7 percent of the population abuse prescription drugs. (2010, National Institute of Health) In Utah (and in Texas, and in New York State) those rates are 4.08-4.45%, or double that of the national average. (2010, NIH) Utah ranks 4th in the nation for prescription drug abuse. More Americans, and more Utahans, die each year from prescription drug abuse than from alcohol or illegal drug use.

So what? Well, in Utah, you are 4 times more likely to die of prescription drug overdose than in a traffic accident, including a drunken driver accident. Prescription drug overdose is the number 1 cause of injury deaths in Utah. The Number One cause; it is ahead of motor vehicle fatalities, ahead of falls, ahead of gun violence. (2010, Utah Department of Health)

Our youth are extremely susceptible to prescription drug abuse. The National Institute of Health reports (2010) that 1 in 12 high school seniors have abused Vicodin, and 1 in 20 have abused OxyCotin. Seventy percent had obtained the drugs from the family medicine cabinet, or from a friend. We are guilty of addicting our children to drugs.

Where is the outcry from our Governor, our legislature, and the LDS Church? They have been very silent about the prescription drug abuse issue, even though it causes more deaths than alcohol. Utah prides itself on being a “Family Values” state, and one of the concerns about alcohol abuse is how it affects the children. However, again, 70% of the high school seniors get their drugs from the family medicine cabinet. Why are the legislative and religious leaders of the state not addressing this easy access issue?

Why are they -the Governor, Legislature, LDS Church- silent about this issue? Here is one thought: alcohol is used, (or abused) by a minority of Utah’s residents, which the LDS Church refers to as Gentiles; those who are not members of the Church. Prescription drug abuse crosses all lines of demarcation, all lines of religion, politics, age, sex, or income. Writing legislation that inconveniences a minority is easy; you really don’t need their votes to be in office. Writing legislation, or enacting a PR campaign that makes the majority uncomfortable, is not good for the election.

What, then, do I propose? First, I ask our legislature to look at the leading cause of injury death in Utah. I ask them to put strong money into mental health clinics; to promote prescription drug abuse programs as strongly as they promote alcohol abuse programs. I propose that we, as a nation, remove the stigma that is attached to using professional help to address our inner conflicts and turmoil. We need our insurance companies to accept that good mental health is as important as good physical health. Americans need to accept that they, their spouse or child may need a therapist as much as they need a doctor.
Our religious leaders need to have resources they can use to refer members who need mental health assistance, much as they do now for those who need medical or financial assistance. As adults, we need to make sure that the medicine cabinet is monitored. We should know what medications are in there, and we should ask questions if they start to disappear. In fine, we need to be parents to our children.

Yes, alcohol kills needlessly. Prescription drug abuse is more widely spread in Utah then alcohol abuse and it kills more people in Utah than alcohol. Let’s act on prescription drug abuse, and stop focusing on additional alcohol regulation.

Do you have an opinion, or an idea? Post it!


* The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has requested, in any article mentioning the Church, that the first entry use the full name; following entries may use common abbreviations (LDS, Mormons, etc.)

Source: National Institute of Health http://www.drugabuse.gov/publications/topics-in-brief/prescription-drug-abuse , Downloaded Jan 24, 2014

Source: ibid

Source: Utah Department of Health http://www.useonlyasdirected.org/articles/read/PRESCRIPTION_DRUGS_ARE_KILLING_MORE_THAN_PAIN , downloaded Jan 24, 2014

Eighty One Thousand, Three Hundred and Ninety Six

The world’s one remaining superpower has the dubious distinction of being the most dangerous. America has a gun fantasy, a dream built on death and destruction. In America, you are more likely to be a victim of gun violence than in any of the other developed countries.

You are twenty times more likely to be killed by a gun in the United States than in Spain, France, or Switzerland. Or Finland, Norway, Syria, Turkey or any of the other OECD countries. 20 times more likely to be killed by a gun. It bears repeating: Twenty times more likely to be killed by a gun, in the United States of America. Only motor vehicle accidents overshadow this figure, and not by much.
Why?

In 2010, homicide/suicide by gun was the 2nd largest cause of death in the United States. Are we, are you, proud of this figure?
I am not. But, sadly, it gets worse. Much worse, in fact.

In 2012, 81,396 Americans were injured in firearm-related accidents. Injured, not killed. Nationally, 25.93 percent of the injuries treated in ERs were gun-related. More than ¼ of our ER injury incidents are firearm related. Eighty one thousand, three hundred ninety six; were any of them your friends or neighbors? And, this has a cost, a cost you and I are paying.

Dead people do not use hospitals. But, the wounded do. They do, to the incredible amount of $632,000,000 in 2010. No misprint, there: six hundred thirty two MILLION dollars in ER/hospitalization was spent in 2010 for gun-related injuries. In America, the land of the free, and the home of the brave. $632,000,000.

Who pays for this 632 million dollars? Well, you and I do. 52%-327 million dollars- was paid by Medicaid. Our government insurance program for the poor paid for 52% of the gun related injuries in America. What could we do with 327 million for education, or to feed the poor?

Guns are big business, make no mistake about that. The firearm industry in the United States has 233,000 employees, more than GM has worldwide. The ancillary business -not the sale of firearms- accounts for $32,000,000 dollars in business annually. The gun business is good (?) for the American economy.
America manufactures 6.5 MILLION guns (non-military) each year, and if that was not enough, we import 3.5 million from other countries.
Why?
The trend is not in hunting rifles, that has fallen 20% over the last 10 years. We are buying assault weapons, pistols, and shotguns.
Why? What, or who, makes us so paranoid?

It is time, America, to deal with this issue. This is not a Second Amendment issue, this is a social disaster. It is not about your right to bear arms, it is about 81,396 of your friends and neighbors. It is about $632,000,000 in hospital costs; costs fueled by guns. It is time, past time, for America to sit down, discuss, and then work to solve the issues that fuel gun violence; poverty, discrimination, drug trade and the stigma of mental health issues. It is time to roll up our sleeves and go to work. America put a man on the moon in 10 years, can we not donate 10 years to solve our firearm violence problem? Are we so beholden to the gun industry, to the NRA, that we cannot overcome this problem?

Let’s talk, America; let us put the guns down and get to work.

Disclaimer: I own two sport rifles, locked up in a gun cabinet.
Second disclaimer: This article does not include bb/pellet gun injuries.

As always, I appreciate your views, and your discussion. Please post your comments, let us have a discussion.

Sources, not in any particular order:
CDC http://webappa.cdc.gov/sasweb/ncipc/nfirates2001.html on jan 16 2014

Data Source: NEISS All Injury Program operated by the Consumer Product Safety Commission for numbers of injuries. Bureau of Census for population estimates.

Urban institute. http://www.urban.org/publications/412894.html
article http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/13/taxpayers-gun-violence_n_3915434.html

United Nations: Source http://www.unodc.org/unodc/en/data-and-analysis/homicide.htmlus

Source: http://www.gallup.com/poll/150353/Self-Reported-Gun-Ownership-Highest-1993.aspx

CDC http://www.cdc.gov/injury/wisqars/pdf/10lcid_unintentional_deaths_2010-a.pdf

Source: ATF

I wrote this early on August 14, 2012. Mom passed late that day.
It has taken me a while to put it up, as I am still trying to understand everything that her life, and her death, mean to me.

Mother

It’s 0300 in my world
Don’t have a clue about yours
I’m wide awake and enjoying
The aches and pains of age.

Loud crickets, circling bats
Neighbors with restless pets
Fire trucks, police cars
Fill the empty night.

I know what’s coming,
I see the headlamp
Of the approaching train
No way to stop it, slow it down.

It’s on a schedule
No man wrote
Our time is determined
By another, not by us.

In His grace,
We are born
With His grace, we live
By His order, we die.

Restless, you roll the halls
Looking for salvation
As I study Holy Script
Looking for a reason.

I come up empty
Like so many years ago
When you thought you had the power
To call His wrath down on me.

When the train pulls
Into your station
And you climb aboard
No backward glance.

That’s your style
Tight lips, no wave
No long sorrowful goodbye
Turn away from me.

Go, ride away in peace
And leave me here
Our short time together
Always left me wondering

Was there something else
Something you tried to say?
Could not find the words?
I love you, with meaning

Would have been sufficient.
But those words
Did not fall
From your lips

Take your journey
Enjoy your trip
Knowing I am here
Wishing for you, peace.

Rest in Peace, Mother. Sylvia Eleanor (Hunter) Hartman passed August 14th, 2012. She was 90 years old.

Father's Day 2012

It’s Father’s Day, 2012. I’m sitting on my deck, cold glass of wine and a pipe at hand. Today has been quiet, and good; I had a wonderful hike with my wife and our dog, at a little known canyon on the east side of the Salt Lake Valley. The hike was in lush, green country, filled with ferns and deciduous trees; oaks, cottonwoods, and maples fill this canyon. In a very short time, we had reached a point where you could not hear any sounds of “civilization.” While it was not an easy hike (we gained 1600 feet in 1 hour); it was well worth the trip.

Perhaps what I enjoyed most about this particular hike was how quickly it brought me back to similar hikes with my children, who are both adults with spouses and children of their own. In the brief time we were the “controlling parents” Kathleen and I tried, with a good degree of success, to instill in our children a love of nature, all its beauty, and the values of being a family, enjoying and understanding life and its rewards. The reward, now achieved, is watching our children now do the same entertainments with their own children, and listening with joy to our grandchildren explaining with happiness the various walks, trips and family camaraderie enjoyed and remembered by all.

More than all of that, however, is the positive feeling I have for the success of our children. They have found love, companionship, and comfort with a person they are comfortable with. Our children have enjoyed becoming adults, spouses, and parents; and really, what more can a father ask for?

Being a parent is not easy! There really are no “guidebooks” for the role we play as parents. We can only try, with greater or lesser success, to bring forth the best we had as youth, and use our best skills to improve on what our own parents taught us. In this process, we analyze what the experiences of our own youth gave us, and selectively use the positive and discard the negative. Certainly, I have watched with pleasure as our children matured and eventually became parents in their own right. They will, I am sure, choose different paths for their families that we did, and I am also certain they will be very successful in their decision.

It’s good to be a father, and even better to be a grandfather! To all of the fathers that read this post, congratulations! I raise a glass in a toast to all of us! (Oh, yes, mothers also, but this is Fathers Day!)
Enjoy!

Another Sailor Slides Beneath the Waves

I’ve spent the greater part of today looking at pictures, sorting out memories. Memories of a person, not known outside of his own family and small circle of friends and acquaintances; a person who tried, and in my opinion succeeded, to get past a rough childhood and became a viable part of society.

He was born in post-WWII America, perhaps one of those “War’s over” babies, to a couple with some baggage and not a lot of resources. When the marriage faltered, then broke, he was placed in an orphanage because neither parent had the means to take care of him and his step-brother. After the father remarried, he took the young boy and his step-brother to live with his new wife and baby in a small town where hopefully they could become a family. It didn’t quiet work out like the picture-perfect 1950’s family.

There was not a lot of financial stability, and “back then” there were no social workers to check on the children and oversee the blending process. Mistakes were made by all involved, mistakes that would surface much later in revolt, distrust, and violence. 

Time, in it’s normal fashion, passed, and two more children were added to the family, and the step-brother left. The young boy became a teen-ager, and typical for rural families, worked on a ranch, raising cattle and hogs, driving a tractor and baling hay. He was not enchanted with high school, and ditched classes to spend time with friends. Those events generally ended with a “strapping” by his father, who in his own way wanted the boy to be a better person then he had himself been. (The father had never entered a high school.) As a teenager, he engaged in “pranks” of minor or major importance, and again, those that were caught ended with sad consequences. He had developed a few close friends, and they became, over time, inseparable in good and bad.

War had broken out in Korea, and the family’s nightly ritual was the evening news during dinner. “Better dead than red” was the father’s motto. The young man had gone to work for a local timber company, cutting trees to feed an ever-growing demand for wood to build homes for the post-WWII families. Fast-forward to the Vietnam conflict, and the draft. Certain he would be found 4-F during his physical, he and his two best friends went for the physical. All three passed, and all three joined up in the US Navy to avoid (they hoped) ground duty in Vietnam.

His father deserted the family in 1964, leaving the mother with four children, a stack of bills, and no money. The sailor sent a portion of his pay home each month to help with the family. His tours of duty saw a violence he could not imagine, and could not escape. Leave was at times difficult; he had learned to sleep with a k-bar under his pillow. The family was cautioned never to touch him while he slept, as he would react in an aggressive manner. He didn’t talk a lot about what he had seen, but he tried, during leaves, to be sure his siblings understood the world was not as safe as it seemed.

After his discharge from the navy, he drifted in and out of relationships, and in and out of his adopted family, never seeming able to create for himself a safe place. He finally settled in Florida, with a person that felt good, and established himself. He worked in several different industries, hampered by a lack of education, and always haunted by his past. His constant connection with his family was his step-mothers sister, she had long-before married the rancher he worked for as a youth.

I re-connected with my brother during a business trip to Florida in 2004. Over several trips, he told me of his life, and of his struggles. While I accept that his was only one side of the story, I came to understand him better. He gave me insight into the life he had, and I can only be grateful for his time on earth.

Harry Edward Hartman, Jr. passed on March 23, 2012, to a better life. May he rest in peace.

Christmas Day 2011

Its Christmas morning. December 25, 2011. Disclaimer- I am a Christian, and I say Merry Christmas! It does not mean disrespect to my non-Christian friends. It is simply what I believe.

Today, I am very grateful for the gifts I have received; not those under the tree this chilly sunlight Utah morning, but those that came from long ago.

I am thankful for my parents, Harry and Sylvia Hartman, who gave me my existence. They made choices, and I am here today because of choices they made. From my father and mother, I learned the example of hard work, and the result of honest labor. I also learned how to raise children, for which I am ever thankful. Let us remember that every person needs the freedom to make choices, and let us strive to allow that freedom of choice.

My grandmother, Mildred Hunter, who worked so diligently to teach me manners, reading, and math. “No, Robert, a gentleman always opens the door for a woman. He never goes first.”
“There is an interesting article in Readers Digest on (subject). Why don’t you read it, then we will discuss it.” Her living room table contained Time, Newsweek, Readers Digest, U.S. News and World Reports, Arizona, and Family Circle. Talk about diversity!. Numerous games of dominoes and cards; “You have to keep score, my arthritis is hurting me.” Then, after the games were done, she picked up her crotchet needles..you get the picture. Grandmother-never Grandma or (Heaven forbid) Mildred-adults are not addressed by their first name- spent countless hours educating me. But then, what would you expect from someone who taught school in a 1-room schoolhouse in Emporia, Kansas? Rest in Peace, Grandmother; you earned it. May we as a country remember and reward those who educate our children. They are the first line of defense in the “War on Poverty.” Indeed, educators are the first defense in the war on War.

My best friend, Billy, who taught me that friendship knows not the boundaries of fame or family fortune. Hours of bike rides, marbles, Scouting, rockets, and dreams. Hot rods, Air Force planes, and cold beer. He was always there for me, at times when my life seemed to be overwhelmed with grief and sorrow. Great loss, great gains; sadly, he died of cancer at too young a point in his life. Why can America conduct wars against people who never hurt us, and yet deny funding for cancer research?

The good Reverend Morale, who strived to create some peace and understanding in a young man torn by the war in Vietnam. A retired man who had been a cleric in the Korean war, he drove 50 miles each way to be in the pulpit on Sunday mornings in Beulah. He was truly a “Man of God”; he could, and did, speak well about the trials of mankind, and of the peace of God. I never heard him speak in anger, or in mistrust; he reached out to help his congregation, and the community at large. Even after he retired from this work, I could talk to him, seek his counsel, and feel better for it. And, perhaps not surprisingly, he could tap a keg of beer (and showed Mom and I how to do it). From the dogs of war, come men of peace. May the youth of today be coached by people like this gentle man.

Mickey and Elaine Neelan, and John Scott; all taught me how to work in a kitchen, how to not only cook but how to create food. In doing this, they also taught me many other lessons. Mickey and Elaine helped my sister and I through some ugly times; gave us good work, good pay, a safe haven, and most importantly, good examples. Wonderful examples of good people, good employers, who knew the job we were doing at the time was not what we would grow up to do, rather, they demanded we keep up with our education; that we understood a waitress or a dishwasher was not a life-long employment. “Scotty”, John Scott, taught me to prepare not just food, but an experience of eating, the total environment of taste and refinement. Every time I prepare a dinner or event, I am giving thanks for these wonderful examples in my life; an example I try to emulate to those surrounding me.

I am very thankful for my sister, who overcame her childhood to become an amazing teacher, parent, and friend. While she does not willingly talk about the ugliness and the poverty we knew and faced, she is an example of what a person can do when they set their mind to it. If ever a book is written about the Great American Dream, certainly several chapters should be written about her; her drive, her determination, and her ability to hold my hand in the dark hours.

On this bright, sunny day, I give thanks for my very existence and for the many people in my life, and there will always be a special place in my heart and life for the people I have mentioned here. Today, and every day that follows, when you have a special person who has uplifted and promoted you, be sure to thank and acknowledge them.

Merry Christmas! May God Bless and keep you! To my friends who read this, I thank you for allowing me to be in your lives. May this day be all, and more, than you desire. May the days that come be even greater than we expect!

Part of my reason for creating this blog is to open myself and my emotions up, to allow myself some freedom of creativity, of expression. This is a very personal poem; I wrote it on what would have been Adams 30th birthday, last May. When you are finished reading it, please comment, if you desire, but more importantly, learn the lessons it contains. Thank you for listening.

At Adam’s Funeral

I was being the strong
Husband, supporting my wife;
Father, comforting our two other children
(Adam was the middle child)
A gentleman approached me.

“May I talk with you a minute, please?”
He politely inquired.
“I know this is not a good time,
But I need to apologize to you and your son.”

I guess my questioning eyes
Permitted him to proceed.
“About a month ago, my daughter
Who was a friend of your sons’
Called him from a party.

She had gotten drunk,
Too drunk to drive
She was, I am ashamed to admit
Too frightened to call me.

She asked Adam to pick
Her up and drive her home.
She handed him her house-key,
He gently lifted her up
And proceeded to the door.

I was watching through the curtains,
Unable to control my anger,
I watched as she vomited over him.
Serves him right, I said to myself out loud.

He opened the door,
I offered no assistance
As he brought her in
Gently laying her on the couch.

Angered beyond belief,
I lashed out at him.
“How dare you!
What have you done to my daughter?

“Did you get her drunk
And violate her as well?”
I continued
To berate him.

To him, it must have been hell.
But he stood there tall,
And kept looking me in the eye.
Never saying a word.

“I stopped”, he continued.
"Adam finally spoke,
His words slow and clear.
I will never forget his courage.”

“Sir, in the morning,
After your daughter is awake and better,
I am sure she will set your fears about me to rest.
Good night, sir.”

He left, morning came,
And my daughter tearfully
Told me about the night.
Church friends invited her to the party.

She had no fear,
Sixteen, innocent, virginal
No idea of what waited for her
Alcohol was served
And she got drunk.
“I was afraid to call you, Dad;
I didn’t want the fight.
Adam I called because I knew
I could rely on him.”

I thought about calling him
Offering my apologies
For I had put him through hell
I got too busy, and it was not important.

Please know your son
Was a good man, not a boy.”
I remember that night, myself.
He had finished his first week of chemo.

Home for a rest, his mother and I went to dinner.
He told me he had taken the truck
To help a friend in trouble.
I asked if everything was ok.

“Sure, dad. I just wanted you to know
Why there were miles on the truck.”
Three weeks later, he died.
A good man, not a boy.

I went to his grave today,
Sitting, eyes closed, meditating;
When a voice whispered in my ear,
Dad, they are coming closer! Look!
Eyes slowly open; a doe and a fawn
Were 10 feet away.

And I understood.
He was here, in his chosen
Environment, a place with birds,
Trees, and deer.

I asked him then,
Would it be ok if I write this?
Show the world who you are?
Yeah, Buddy!
His voice rang loudly in my ear.
So here it is.

A Child's Commentary on Adults

I am your child, yours no matter how I got here; if you adopted me, bore me, or just accepted me because someone else could not, I am yours. I cannot speak yet, not quite, but I am learning, and one day will be able to tell you how much you mean to me. For now, you have to go on my actions, on my expressions.

We are learning together, you and I. First I focus on the sound of your voice: if it is warm and loving I know I am ok. When your voice goes harsh and angry I know something is wrong, and as I only know my world I can only believe I am the “something” that is wrong. I am told that I will learn that “little pitchers have big ears.” I do have those “big ears”, for right now that is the largest input into my mind, my physic. I may not yet understand what you are saying, but I can certainly tell how you are saying it. Please be kind, speak kind of me, about me, and around me. Don’t think it does not matter, it does. What you say and how you say it, parental figures, will always matter to me. Even when I am a rebellious teenager (what is that, anyway) it will matter to me.

I watch you prepare food for me; I have learned that the presence of the bib means I am going to get fed! YES! My three favorite food groups are food, food and more food. You watch my face as you feed me, and you learn through my expressions and my actions what I like and don’t like; but don’t worry, my tastes will change. Keep trying those vegetables on me; someday I may like green peas.

When you come over to pick me up, I am watching you, studying how you move, your legs, your arms, your face. I am watching because I want that freedom, that ability to move around and not just be in this little crib you have set up for my safety. Speaking of my safety, thank you for the crib, for the gate that will keep me from falling down the stairs; for the locks you put on the cabinets to keep my curious fingers and face out of trouble. Because I am curious, that is how I learn, curiosity, and I need you to keep me safe. Safe from harm from others, safe from harming myself. When I grow up, I will have learned from all the subtle things you have done that I need to keep myself safe, but now I am relying on you to teach me, to help me, to keep me safe.

Hold my hand. It is so tiny compared to yours. Consider how my whole hand grips just one of your fingers, how tightly I hold on to your finger, your hand, your presence. For you are my safety and security, my own private TSA so to speak. I have very good senses, and when I don’t want to go to a new person, please consider that I am yours, you are what and who I know; help me to learn how to tell if a person is good or bad company. Help me to learn how to be ok in company, how to behave. But do it with words and care, please. Remember your big hand? It does not take much for you, with your strong arms and mighty hand, to hurt me, really hurt me. Remember that I am not trying to make you angry, remember that when I sense your anger I feel that it is totally my fault. I don’t know any better. Teach me, with love and kindness; I don’t want anger to be part of our relationship.
Oh, and that car seat? It’s ok; really, the main thing I am not happy about is being out of your arms. I really am not protesting the car seat manufacturing companies. I will learn, if I don’t already sense it, that the car seat is really for my own good. I will even learn to buckle my seat belt, if you take the time to teach me.

Well, there is much more I have to say, but I am tired now, so if you don’t mind, would you put me down for a nap?

Thinking of Adam on his birthday

Adam
Or 5/4/80

Without our plan,
You came into our lives
In a time of trouble
And strain.

You put us back together
That night.
You made us realize
Nothing is as important
As Life.

In sixteen years,
You showed many people
What true love
Is all about.

Your best friend
Was eighty five.
You protected
Your sister on the bus.
And fought like cats and dogs
At home.

You always thought of others,
Your mom, Grandmother,
Grandfather.
You worked hard, always strove
To be your best.

I remember…
A deck, completed.
You were going to
Drink that beer
No matter how much you
Disliked it!
I wish we could fly,
Adam and I,
My son and I.
Those words ring in my ears
Every time I think of you.
We flew, my son,
We flew.

Your time here was much too short
I think of you often.
How much you loved
Nature and people.
Do you remember
Being a ranger
At Yuba, for a day?

Adam and I,
My son and I.
It’s been 14 years
I miss you every day.

I am not sad,
Nor melancholy
I know you are at peace
With Grandpa Ed.
Making up stories
About the one
That got away.

I feel your presence
In long, lonely nights.
When I cannot sleep,
You come to me.
With that open smile,
That welcoming grip,
You bring me back
To what matters most.


Your time on earth was
Short, and to the point.
You moved people
In so many ways.
Adam and I
My son and I.

I cannot forget
Your calm acceptance
Of the fates before you.
As I watched you pass,
I was impressed
With your brave demeanor.
You never forgot
To say a word of thanks
To anyone who
Helped you along.

Adam and I
My son and I.
This would have been
Thirty Years.
I wonder how you would be?

Your easy style!
I could not believe
You started to drive;
Like everything you did
With style, grace, and
A racer’s skill.
You were so natural
In all that you did.

Rest well, my son.
May I have the grace
You showed to the world.
My I have the strength
That you always displayed.

Oh, by the way
The lawn needs mowing,
And the dishes need doing.
You never shirked
Any duty.
Though you thought
It was your sister’s turn.

Every time I pull
The RV out
I think of you
And your broad
Smile.

Rest well, my son.

Tribute to my youngest Granddaughter, with my thanks!

Martha Anne

Walk and play
Little one!
Reach out
Pick up your blocks,
Your stuffed animals!
Taste and feel them
Enjoy the sensation
Of something new,
Smile and giggle
When you find
Something funny.

Set yourself down
Play with the remote
Doesn’t matter
What you do,
You’re learning
To be.
Amuse Granny and I
We discover ourselves again
In You.