The Return of an Old Friend

The day after thanksgiving, we always get a visitor to the house. He shows up in the night and sticks around until the day after Christmas. This has happened now for the last 6 or 8 years.

He says his friends call him Engelbert. Engelbert is the Santa’s elf assigned to our house. He has magical powers that will go away if you touch him. He comes to our house each year to make sure we are good. We leave notes for him and he writes us notes on little pieces of white paper with torn edges.

Mostly he just hangs out in high places and watches our coming and goings throughout the day. He likes spots with views of as much of the house as possible but rarely spends more than one day in the same spot. This makes finding him each morning part of the fun.

Engelbert showed up again this morning. I wasn’t sure if he would since he told us last year that he was getting old. He made it sound like he was maybe thinking about retiring. I’m glad he didn’t.

When Engelbert first started coming to the house we didn’t really know what to think about him. It was neat to find him each morning, watching us from some new location in the house, but that was really as far as our relationship went. Over the years we have come to love him, and from his letters, Engelbert seems to have come to love us too.

Last year was especially with the kids writing him little notes several times a week and him responding to them. The kids would ask unusual questions about where he lives, and what kind of work he does when he is not here, and if he gets to ride on Santa’s sleigh. Engelbert would faithfully write back in his little neat handwriting, always on those small sheets of white paper with the torn edges.

Over the years, and I think especially last year, our relationship with Engelbert blossomed into something much more than just a standard Elf/Family sort of thing. Last year he became our friend.

This morning Engelbert is setting in a small handmade bowl that sits from time to time on the mantle in the living room. When our four year old woke up, he walked through the house calling, “Engelbert, where are you? Engelbert.” In time he found him, sitting there, looking down from his perch. The customary first night gifts at his side.

Ah, Engelbert, it’s good to see you. You are welcome in our home. You look well. I’m glad to see you haven’t retired yet. I’m glad to be able to spend another magical Christmas Season with you, watching over our small family as we grow up together. I’m glad you’ve chosen again to spend this time with us. And I’m excited to read more of your notes and watch my children’s faces as they find your new spot each day.

More than all of these, I’m glad you are my friend. Merry Christmas.

Clark

Angels in the Snow

My moms birthday was last week so I finally get to post this.  I didn't want any leaks so I didn't even tell my brothers about this song.

This was written with the help of Marvin Payne.  I thought of him while writing the lyrics because I knew she liked him back in the time period of when this takes place.  When I emailed Marvin, I told him that back in the day when this event happened, she might have given away one of those two boys to have you write a song for her.  

Marvin was amazing to work with.  He gave me some great pointers with the lyrics that mad the song better than it would have been.  When we got around to making the music, I told him the type of music my mom liked to play on the guitar.  I listed a few of the favorite bands of the day and described the type of music that I was looking for.  He said, "like this?" and started to play.  I couldn't believe how well he nailed what I was hoping to hear. 

Mom came over for dinner on her birthday.  While she waited for us to finish cooking things, I told her I wanted to play a song that reminded me of her.

After the first few words, she asked if I wrote it.  I just shrugged and she stared crying.  She does that.


Let me know what you think.

Clark

Eight Great Quotes on Gratitude

There is so much to be grateful for.
  -- Spencer W. Kimball

Thanksgiving opens the windows of opportunity for ideas to flow your way.
  -- Jim Rohn

Silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone.
  -- Gladys Bertha Stern

Happiness comes when we stop wailing about all the troubles we have and offer thanks for all the troubles we don't have.
  -- Unknown

No duty is more urgent than that of giving thanks.
  -- Saint Ambrose

Gratitude is a mark of a noble soul and a refined character. 
  -- Joseph B. Wirthlin

Give thanks for all & for what is around you.
  -- Unknown

Count [your] many blessings & name them one by one.
  -- David O. McKay

How about you?  What are you grateful for?

Clark

Fall – Photo Set 6 of 6 – Snow

This was taken on the first snow day of the year.  I was headed back to the office after a meeting.  I was on the freeway and kept looking up at the mountains and the snow and the way the sun came through the clouds and lit up the snow and rocks and trees.  The mountain was calling me and I couldn't resist a little side trip up the canyon to take a few photos.  I never did get that perfect shot of the light on the new snow, but I had to get back to work so I left.  What a blessing it is to have mountains like this so close to home. 

I took this a week or so later, the same morning as the school bus photo (post 5 of 6).  Nancy and the kids had spent fall break at the family cabin.  I drove up separately and then left a day early to make it to work about three hours away.  It doesn't take much ice on the road and a brewing storm like this to make me wish I had just taken the day off.  On top of this exciting drive, the heater in my car was acting up, so I had to endure temperatures inside the car in the 30's and 40's.  I drove most of the way with one hand on the wheel, while the other warmed up in my coat pocket.  Then, when I couldn't feel the one I was driving with, I switched hands.

This was taken later that same snowy morning.  A few days earlier at about this same spot, I pulled over and made a post on Facebook that said something like, "Evanston Wyoming in the rear view mirror means I'm headed someplace else."  I lived in Evanston the last two and a half years of high school.  I was always happiest when Evanston was in the rear view mirror and I left for the last time the very day of graduation. 

A storm like this can strike in Evanston anytime of the year.  In fact, it snowed there on the 4th of July both summers I lived there.  I once got stuck in a storm like this while on my bicycle.  I was several miles from home with no jacket.  It was not a happy day. 

This photo was taken specifically for my friends from Evanston, especially those that right now are shrugging their shoulders and saying, "Yah, so?"

How about you?  What kind of places have you lived where you were either super happy to be there or super happy to see it fading in the rear view?

Clark

The Aggressive Driver

On Veterans Day, I always think about three people: My Dad, who spent a year in Vietnam, my grandpa, who spent the last few years of WWII aboard fighting ships in the South Pacific, and my Uncle Kim, a Marine, who served three tours in Vietnam.

Uncle Kim never talked about his time in Vietnam.  Only once did I ever know of him saying anything about it.  He was leaving the movie theater with his wife.  They had just seen Saving Private Ryan.  He turned to his wife and said simply, “That was the most realistic war movie I’ve ever seen.”

That was it.  End of conversation.

Of course he had seen all of them, including ones about the war he was personally involved with: Full Metal Jacket, Platoon, etc., but none was as accurate as this one about a war that ended before he was even born.

In the past two years, my grandpa and my uncle have passed away.  I still think about them on Veterans Day, and of course at other times as well.  My grandpa had countless tools, an unquenchable desire for perfection, and handwriting that was very hard to read.  Kim was a big, man’s man, the father of four great children, and a very aggressive driver.

Kim was also a very aggressive driver who liked to drive.  More accurately, he liked to be going someplace.  He rode horses, bicycles, and for a long time, drove an old Chevy Astro, the most aggressive minivan on the road.  I don’t know what it is about that particular van that brings out the aggressive side of drivers, but ever since my first ride in Kim’s Astro, I have never seen one that wasn’t going fast, swerving through traffic, or otherwise doing something most people would consider overly aggressive.

On Veterans Day this year I woke up a little late.  Just before I finally hauled myself out of bed, I had a quick dream about my Uncle Kim.  The dream was short, but very memorable.  I was standing on the side of the wide, main road, near his old neighborhood.  I was waiting for something or someone coming from the East.  I turned momentarily toward the west and noticed a van coming up the hill.  A Chevy Astro to be more specific.  It was all white with no windows except the three front ones. 

There at the wheel was my uncle, leaning forward aggressively, the driver side window open with his elbow hanging out.  He turned and made eye contact with me for several long seconds, but he didn’t stop or even slow down a bit.  We held eye contact as long as possible before he turned his attention back to the road.  And off he was gone as quickly as he came.

No, cool as it would be, I don’t really think my uncle’s off, cruising around Heaven in a celestialized version of the old van.  But, I do think he’s busy at whatever it is you do when you get there.

I’ve thought some the past few days of the fleeting nature of our lives, of our relationships, and of our very existence.  It interests me how we can be actively and anxiously doing one thing on minute, and then quickly move onto something entirely different and equally as important the next, never thinking again about the last, big important thing.  Sometimes I wonder if it’s all really so important after all.

There’s so much to do each day, so much pulling us this way and that, so many people with so many agendas.  So many distractions.

Kim wasn’t distracted by me.  He saw me, he made sure that I knew he saw me, and he kept on rolling.  He had stuff to do, places to go, and a singleness of purpose that bordered on overly aggressive.

Maybe he was saying life is too short to get distracted.  Do what you need to do, acknowledge the people that need to be acknowledged, but focus, get going, put the pedal down and don’t let up, no matter what, and no matter who crosses your path.  Just keep going.  Decide where you are going, get going, and just keep going.  But always, no matter where, or what, or with whom, you should always have the window down and be enjoying the ride.

How about you?  What are you working on that maybe can - or should be dropped for something more important?

Clark

Fall – Photo Set 5 of 6 – Random

This one was shot out the window at breakneck speed on a narrow road in the mountains.  I thought I was going to die. 

 

We spent the weekend at the lake about a month ago and I left early to make it to work on time about two and a half hours away.  I was standing on the side of the road taking photos of some ducks in a pond when this bus blasted past me.  My mom drove bus one winter in the early 80's.  Some days I would get up early to ride with her along the whole route.  Those drivers have to get up way too early every day.

This same morning I ended up hitting a major storm (see photo set 6 of 6) and it took me several hours to get to work.

 

I did say this is the random batch of photos.  I went out to the garden a few weeks ago to did up the potatoes and found these on the vine.  I was thrilled since it was getting so cold at night and I thought we had already pulled in what we were going to get this year.  We still have a couple of these but it won't be long now until they are all just a memory. 

How about you?  What are some of your favorite things to eat in the Fall?

Clark

Fall – Photo Set 4 of 6 – Harvest

This barn is about two blocks from downtown Paris, Idaho.  Its a beautiful little town near Bear Lake.

I couldn't resist this shot of a farmer clearing the last stubble of his corn fields.  This is right next door to the pumpkins from a few days ago.

This house is at one of the many points in Wyoming where the old Mormon Trail meets up with I-80.  I first became acquainted with the house when I was about 16 years old.  I have loved it ever since and look for it every time I pass this way.  A small cave near the house proudly displays the initials PPP, presumably carved about 161 years ago by Parley P. Pratt, teacher, historian, author, and friend of Joseph Smith Jr.

How about you?  What are some of your favorite places in this wide world?

Clark