Halloween

I don’t like Halloween.  I think I have always felt sort of negative towards the “holiday” because it seemed to me that it was not something worthy of a special designation for celebration.  It was always dark and mysterious and somehow related to the false doctrine of ghosts floating around, senselessly bothering people who had done nothing to them.

My first recollection of the day was when we lived in Logan while Dad was finishing his master’s degree.  We lived in the prefabricated married student housing, basically a roof over our heads and not much more.  One night some teenage boys knocked on our door and said what sounded to me like, “Tweet, tweet!”

Mom fished out some sort of goodies and gave it to them and they left. I asked her in my six-year old innocence what that was all about.  “Oh, they are trick-or-treating,” she said to me. 

I asked her what that meant.  She said kids go out to their neighbors’ homes, knock on the door, and say, “Trick or treat.”  You give them a treat so they won’t pull a trick on you, like putting soap on your windows.

That seemed not right to me.  What gave people the right to place a ransom, a blackmail sort of thing?

I always wondered what sort of tricks would be appropriate for someone who did give a treat.  One year I went with some friends in Sugar City, so I must have been about 6, and we knocked on a friend’s door, expecting to receive a nice treat.  Some old lady with a witch mask on her face and broom in her hand came screaming out of the house, swinging the broom, beating us on the head and shoulders until we managed to escape onto the lawn.  I still can’t figure that one out.

We lived in Rexburg, I was in about the 5^th grade, and some friends invited me to come with them to gather goodies Trick-or-Treating.  My friends all had big grocery paper bags, so I took one, too, and off we went.  We actually accumulated a sizeable amount of loot and I was feeling good about the prospects of munching on the stuff for several days.  Bach then the goodies were usually things like popcorn balls or homemade fudge or a stick of gum.  If someone gave us a real candy bar, that was a luxury.

We were walking along a dimly lighted street, heading toward our next victim, when I noticed a couple of much bigger boys rising up out of the weeds along the side of the road.  They rushed noisily towards us, yelling and screaming as they came.  I froze, but two of my friends took off running for the nearest house.  These guys grabbed my paper bag, which ripped up the side, dumping all the candy on the ground.  They also took my friend Brad’s bag, and then they were gone.

Nobody was hurt, but we were mighty frightened.  We just walked back to our houses and that was the end of the night’s activity.  I think I told my mom what had happened, to which she offered some heart-felt but fatalistic condolences, and I went to bed.  The next day I went to where we had been attacked and found one little Bit-o-Honey, still in its wrapper, in the dust.  Brad had gone home and told his dad, who loaded him up in their car and drove to the crime scene, where they recovered some of what had been spilled in the attack.  I always felt that Brad’s dad must have loved him more than my dad loved me.  Silly, huh.

Over the years there have been parties at the schools to try to get the kids off the streets and out of harm’s way.  At least, that is the reason for the social activities in my own mind.  It was not so much about having a good time, because I never really had a very good time.  There were booths with grown up people acting like kids.  There were games and lots of sugary goodies, and I ate my share, but I never really felt satisfied by the result.

In Lewisville such a party was being held at the school, so I decided to go with a friend.  We walked everywhere, then.  As I was moving along the street I saw some 5^th graders running towards us (we were in the fourth grade), clearly intending to make the night miserable for us.  We dashed off the road, cut through a neighbor’s yard and apple orchard, and managed to lose the attackers, while getting scratched by the branches and muddy when we slipped in the wet ditch.  I don’t think we ever got to the party.

Many years later some of the kids in our ward, mid-teen aged boys, would get in a pickup truck and ride around smashing pumpkins that people had put out on their porches or in their yards as decorations for the Halloween remembrance.  In a very unfortunate accident that night, one of the boys fell out of the back of the truck and broke his neck at about C-1.  He was rushed to the hospital, but he died anyway.  That capped my dislike of the celebrating.

My wife and I disagree about the value of the celebrating that goes on.  I decided that if we were going to give out junk to the little beggars, I would give out toothbrushes.  Often the parents would be standing back a little just out of the light from the porch.  Once in a while some little tyke would say, in disgust, “Toothbrushes!?”  The parents would say, “Yes!”  I sensed that there were others who liked the practice as little as I did.  My wife, however, would stand out there and pass out the little candy bars, for which she received glum mutterings of thanks. They act like it is a guaranteed right vouchsafed by the Constitution.

So to you who celebrate Halloween, all the best.  Tonight I will be sitting in my home with the porch light turned off.  We have not had trick-or-treaters for the past several years.  That suits me just fine, but clearly, I am in the minority.

Siegfried and Brunhilda

Autumn in Southern Idaho

I love the fall in Southern Idaho.  This is the time for football, World Series, colors in the mountains, harvest, potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, cool nights, warm days, and General Conference.

BYU is not doing so well.  Taysom Hill is out for the season with a broken leg.  Utah State beat the Cougars at Provo for the first time since the Dark Ages.  Utah beat UCLA.  Boise State is not bad, but nothing to get excited about.  Baseball is in the league divisions playoffs. I am a National League fan.  I think pitchers should bat.  The leaves in the mountains are just beginning to turn colors, which is at least several days later than I remember from before our mission.  South Hills, Stanley Basin, and the Snake River Canyon are beautiful any time, but even more so this time of year.  The tomatoes are coming on well.  The deer have eaten much of the new growth on the tomato plants, which has actually helped them grow better fruit.  I wish the deer would go away, however.  We have not had a killing frost yet.  That will come soon.  The potatoes have been dug and are sitting in a big tub, waiting to be eaten.  I can't eat that many spuds.  I have some pretty carrots this year coming in colors other than the traditional orange variety.  They all taste the same, though.

We have had George and Sharon Peterson visiting us for a week.  They drove out from Ohio and came to see us first.  We went to the mountains, where it was rainy and cold, but also beautiful.  We also drove to Orem where we attended our first PRSJM reunion.  Pres and Sister Alvarado were there and it was great to see them.  We also enjoyed visiting with the young missionaries with whom we shared many experiences over 18 months in the Caribbean.  President told me that I did a good job as a missionary.  I was glad to hear him say that.

The best part is General Conference.  The messages were the right on point.  We are led by inspired men and women who have delivered the word and will of the Lord right into our home.  What a blessing to be living in a time when technology makes all this possible.  There were several messages that were very important instructions for how to live in the confused world of our day. I love Conference!

BASE jumpers going off the Perrine Bridge.  This guy is going into the water, on purpose!

Southeast of Twin Falls

Sunbeam Hot Springs by the Salmon River

Redfish Lake in Stanley Basin

Sawtooth Mountains near Stanley Idaho

Missionaries having fun

Still learning how to do a Selfie

Debbie's Special Pumpkin

Carrots from my garden

Gay and Sharon.  They think it is cold, at 55F.

Trees in South Hills near Twin Falls

In Stanley Basin

Chain-saw art

Near Redfish Lake

Facebook and Party Lines

Logan Utah

Dad was working on a masters degree at Utah State and our family of five kids and two adults lived in the married student housing.  It was quite Spartan, with a bathroom in each unit but a common shower in a different building, near where everybody kept their washing machines:  the Dexter ringer machines, not the modern laundry center.  The Quonset we lived in also had a fridge, a two-burner hotplate, and a kitchen sink.  Mom would bake bread and cook Sunday dinner in a big roaster pan.  I actually thought every day was an adventure.  Often I would walk to my first grade classroom at the old Adams School, crossing the USU campus on my way.  Every day was an adventure.

We had no telephone.  In fact, I don’t think there were more than three families in the complex who did have a phone.  (We also had no TV.  For entertainment we would occasionally go to a drive-in movie, taking our own popcorn, of course.) Later on, after Dad finished his masters and we had moved to Lewisville, Idaho, where Dad was the principal and taught the sixth grade, we did get a telephone.  It was a party line, so whenever anybody on the line was being called, everybody on the line knew it.  Our number signal was one long and two short rings.  Somebody else might have two longs or two shorts.  Socially connected people on the line would know who was being called by the ring pattern in their own phone.  (There was only one phone in each house.  Usually the phone was near the kitchen.)

Some of the more socially connected neighbors would quietly pick up the phone and listen in on the conversation.  We became adept at discerning a slight difference in the static on the line when somebody was eavesdropping.  Then we would say, “Myrtle, please hang up and stop listening.”  A private line was a luxury for the wealthy, few of whom I was personally acquainted with.   As the systems developed and take-home pay increased, however, we were finally able to have a “private line”.  You would think we had reached the highest social stratum.  Nobody could listen in any more.

Fast forward to the 21^st Century and social networks.  Now everybody wants to be on Facebook, “friends” with present and former acquaintances and family members and businesses, spending too many hours “listening in” on the lives of each other.  Isn’t it ironic!  Where the desired status was once to get a private line so nobody could listen, now we post everything about our lives on public bulletin boards where the whole world can listen in, often without our own awareness of what is taking place.

This is called progress. Every cell phone conversation is open to the whole world, and is probably being listened to by some government computer. I, and thousands of others, write a blog that is posted in front of the whole world.  I actually had several thousand hits on one of my blog entries  Are you kidding me?  What did I say that was that interesting?  What a mixed up world we live in!  Since it is not going away, maybe we should be more discreet in what we post on those bulletin boards.  But that would be boring.  Ahhhhhh!

1LT Patterson, Saipan

!

Danette to BYUI

TF Temple at Sunset

Several months ago while we were serving in the Caparra Ward, one of the young ladies in the ward told us that she was accepted to attend BYUI.  I told her then that if she can get to SLC we will get her to Rexburg and help her get settled.  Her name is Danette.

Danette and her mom, Nana, arrived in SLC on Sept 7 and stayed for a couple of days with some friends there.  Those friends then brought Danette and Nana to our house, where they would stay for a couple of days before we would take them to Rexburg.  We had fun showing them around Twin Falls, including Shoshone Falls, which is almost bone dry this time of year.  

Shoshone Falls during irrigation season

I asked Danette if she would like to mow the lawn.  She did, and she had a ball!

Mowing our front lawn

On Thursday I filled in at the temple for a neighbor, and we left right after I got home.  We decided to take them the back road, through Craters of the Moon.  

Craters of the Moon

It is a little longer that way, not distance but time, but it is also a little more interesting than going on the freeway.  They enjoyed seeing the geologic formations at Craters. 

Freezing at Craters of the Moon

They were both pretty excited to be there.  Temperatures around here are in the upper 60F range, so they are both feeling like we live in the deep freeze.  Danette will get used to it, though.  Nana is headed back to balmy Puerto Rico.

On Friday morning the plan was to sleep in a little bit and them drive leisurely to Rexburg to get moved into the dorm.  Danette was up at the crack of dawn, however, and they were both excited and ready to go.  We ate breakfast and drove the back way into Rexburg.  She is living in Ricks Hall on campus.  She met her roommates, moved her stuff into her bedroom, and quickly became immersed in orientation activities for new freshman students.  I think Danette will get along fabulously.  I suspect this will be harder on her parents than it will be on her.  We told Danette that she and her roommate(s) are welcome to come to visit us any time.  We will plan on having them over for Thanksgiving for sure, and maybe other times, too.  

Gaye showed Nana how to make some peach jam.  It was really good, too.  So now Nana has a few pints of jam for her storage, made by her own hands in Twin Falls Idaho.

Gaye and Nana making jam

Yellowstone

My son Spencer invited me to go with him and his two oldest boys, 8-year-old Grant and Henry, who is 6.  I met them in Pocatello and we drove to Yellowstone Park.  It was a wonderful experience in spite of the rain and high temperature of 49F.  We stayed Saturday night with relatives in St Anthony and drove early Sunday morning to try to get to church at Island Park.  

Sacrament Meeting is about to begin

The ward there is normally around 200-300 but in the summer there are often more than 2000 visitors attending.  We got there in time to find seats in the new chapel.  A man we sat next to said there were more than 3300 attending over the Fourth of July weekend.  They have a new building similar to our stake center that sits right next to their older A-frame building.  They hold a sacrament meeting at 0900 and another one at 1100, which is when they also have their regular block schedule.  There were 800 attending the building we were in and another 600 in the A-frame.  That was just for the first session!

In our building there were two sacrament tables set up—one in the regular position at the front of the chapel and another at the back of the activity hall.  There were two other tables set up in the A-frame building next door, where they received the broadcast of the meeting by closed circuit TV.  So administering the sacrament took about the same amount of time that you would expect in a normal ward gathering.  The prayers were read only at the sacrament table at the front of the main building.  It was actually very impressive how they handled the crowd. 

The meeting was special to me in several ways.  One was the efficiency of how they handled the huge crowd.  That was done reverently, too, so there was a sweet spirit present.  We attend sacrament meeting to partake of the emblems of the Lord’s Supper, but there was more.  In attendance at this meeting was Gary Stevenson, Presiding Bishop of the Church, so he was the presiding officer.  He was the closing speaker, and he bore a sweet and powerful testimony.  The other speakers were a man and his wife who are regular members of the Island Park Ward.  The theme was sustaining our leaders, so they spoke about different aspects of that subject.  They had been less active for a while until they were called to participate in Home Teaching and Visit Teaching, which got them involved, brought the missionaries into their home to renew the doctrine of the resurrection and of the Atonement, and then they caught the spirit of conversion and became fully active.

The brother who spoke was a retired football coach who had coached at “every major Utah program but BYU.”  He told of a young man who had transferred from a junior college, a smaller-than-usual defensive lineman, but who had a heart and determination to walk on and to play football at Weber State.  The story was sort of like Rudy, the kid who walked on at Notre Dame.  This young man was LDS however, and he worked hard to over come the ridicule of his non-LDS teammates when he would not drink or participate in the celebrations the others did that were not up to his standards.  Unlike Rudy, he actually was big enough to earn a spot on the team, and his teammates elected him as one of their captains the next year.  After the season was over, a group of those teammates who had not graduated, one of whom had poured beer in the RM’s face to teach him what it tasted like, came to the coach, who they knew was also LDS, and asked him to tell them about the Church.  Some of those young men actually joined the Church because of that, and it was a few years later when the coach saw one of them at the temple.  You just never know who is watching.

Another high point of the meeting was when Vocal Point, the famous male a capella singing group from BYU Provo, sang “I Need Thee Every Hour” as a special number half way through the meeting.  It brought tears to my cheeks as the power of the message and the presentation penetrated into my heart.  I guess they were just vacationing there and were asked to sing.  Ah, the power of beautiful music!

The highlight of the meeting, for me, however, was when one of the young men officiating at the sacrament table pronounced the blessing on the bread.  I don’t know how may thousand times I have heard or read the prayers, but I have never heard it like that time.  He spoke slowly and clearly, pronouncing every word with reverence and respect.  As he spoke I felt the influence of The Holy Ghost teaching me things that I have never thought of before, things related to the Atonement wrought by our Savior.  I noticed that there are three things that we should be willing to do: willing to take upon us the name of Jesus, willing to always remember Him, and willing to keep His commandments that He has given us. It was the "willing" that caught my attention.  I have tried to think of the Savior and the Atonement during the time of the sacrament administration every time I participate, with varying degrees of success.  This time was different, however, and it was in large part because of how the young man at the table pronounced the prayer.  I will never be the same.

Lake Hotel

Upper Geyser Basin

Old Faithful beginning to blow

Amazing Cloud at Old Faithful

Watching osprey nest

Upper Mesa Falls

Old Faithful Inn

Henry, Grant, and Fred the Bison