Led Zeppelin ROCKS!

For anyone who grew up as a teenager in the 60's Rock and Roll is a vital part of that experience and memory. We remember the British invasion of the Beatles, Stones, Turtles - easy listening rock with a catchy melody and cute romantic lyrics, albeit the Stones pushed the envelope of acceptable earthiness of the times. The protest rock; Dylan, Donovan, Baez. Then the evolution of drug- culture rock; Buffalo Springfield, The Byrds, Jefferson Airplane, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, The Grateful Dead. But there is one rock band that really gets me. The one whose music stirs the dark side of my soul like no other; LED ZEPPELIN. I don't know the names of all the Zeppelin songs. I am not a groupie and frankly don't own any of their albums, 8 tracks, cassettes or CD's. I don't have an old Zeppelin poster from the wall of my teenage room rolled up in the trunk in the garage. All I have is the memory of the songs, the places and feelings their music evokes in me. I guess at my age I should be writing about the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the inspiration of the church hymns. Sorry! One of my daughters told me she enjoys reading my blogs simply because it gives her a glimpse of how the real Rick Black thinks and ticks. Not "Dad". Zeppelin makes Rick Black tick. Zeppelin is the music of choice for an adrenaline rush, the war cry to that "get me off my ass and do something" feeling. If you let it, some of Zeppelins music can pull you down to the depths of sadness and depression with it's slow, woeful, bluesy drone. Mostly it makes me want to run and speed and conquer!

I had the opportunity to see Page and Plant in concert a few years ago. I took my 4 oldest children. I don't think my kids appreciated what they were seeing. Page and Plant played a couple of the Zeppelin songs. We were down close to the right side of the stage and could see their faces and expressions. They are old men. They have complexions of rock stars with a lot of hard miles, they are not my hero's. But at one point Jimmy Page looked me right in the eye and smiled. It was so cool! Jimmy Page is is the God of Guitarists. No one can do what Jimmy does.

Last night Zeppelin played a benefit concert in London at the 02 Arena. In reading the commentaries it appears they still have the magic. I am sure the critics will take occasion to rip them for their age and diminishing vocal range and passion of youth. It won't be a critic from my age. A younger critic simply won't get it. What Zeppelin really is to people. It's not whether Plant can wail like he did in his twenties and thirties. It's not whether Page can hit all the notes in his signature riffs. It's not whether Jason Bonham has that unique rhythmic genetic link to his late father John. This is LED ZEPPELIN. One of the greatest rock bands EVER!

You Just Gotta Speak Up!

(Turn on your sound)

The Ten Commandments of Baseball

I am reading a book called Riding With the Blue Moth. It is a true story about a man who rides a bike across the country as a way of dealing with the tragic death of his son. The author is Bill Hancock whose job it is to set up the NCAA basketball tournament every year. He has a lot of sports quotes throughout the book. Last night I was reading and he used a quote from Joe McCarthy’s “Ten Commandments of Baseball”. I played a lot of baseball and never heard of the “Ten Commandments of Baseball”; so I Googled it. I was glad I did. It is pure conventional, homespun wisdom. But if you read between the lines it is about what we should all do in our daily lives. I particularly like commandment #2 and am personally working on that one. If I can make my life as simple as playing baseball I can really improve things. Because I love baseball!

Ten Commandments for Success in Baseball

by Joe McCarthy (1949)

1.Nobody ever became a ballplayer by walking after a ball.

2.You will never become a .300 hitter unless you take the bat off your shoulder.
3.An outfielder who throws in back of a runner is locking the barn after the horse is stolen.
4.Keep your head up and you may not have to keep it down.
5.When you start to slide, slide. He who changes his mind may have to change a good leg for a bad one.
6.Do not alibi on bad hops. Anybody can field the good ones.
7.Always run them out. You never can tell.
8.Do not quit.
9.Do not fight too much with the umpires. You cannot expect them to be as perfect as you are.
10.A pitcher who hasn't control hasn't anything.

I figure there should be an Eleventh one, so I will add it:

11. Always wear a cup!

Have a good day. Adjust your cup. Pull on the bill of your hat. Spit in your glove, smack it few times with your fist and PLAY BALL!

A Few Special Reasons for Thanksgiving This Year...

This wonderful family. This was taken in October on our recent trip to San Diego. Shortly after my pratfall in the tide pools. (See Falling is Always Funny blog)

From left to right. Hilary, Cecily, Bryan, Jill (Bryan's friend) Natalie, Marian and Keegan. Missing are; Chris & Jacey and Bruce (their dog!), Emily and Brandon, and of course Calvin our stupid gay cat and Pele our black lab. One of these days next spring when Brandon returns from Samoa we will get one of the whole group. It's been awhile.

This wonderful wife Marian. Who continues to exercise great patience and forgiveness with me. (OK - so it was taken a few years ago - she hasn't change that much to me)

This wonderful son Brandon. Serving an LDS mission in Samoa.

This wonderful son Chris. That landed an unbelievably awesome "180" on more than just this snowboard!

This wonderful daughter Cecily. Who was recently in the hospital dealing with a blood clot.

And of course... Bruce! Who is always glad to see us.

Falling is Always Funny

Nothing makes me laugh harder than to witness people falling down. The only thing funnier is when Marian sees it and I get to watch her uncontrollable laughter.

For our trip to San Diego I needed some new flips flops and waited to get some in Southern California figuring I would have a better selection. WRONG! All sold-out and not a thing I liked on the shelves. I ended up buying some slip-on sailing style shoe's. The idea was to just get something I didn't care about getting wet, sandy or muddy. These had those cool non-slip soles. I was so proud of them and modeled them in the hotel room before going to the beach making everyone tell me how good they looked. I was concerned they made me look like a middle-aged tourist. My family managed to prop up my insecurity and stroke my ego. About 2 hours later I managed to destroy it.

Natalie, my oldest daughter, and I were walking along the rocks at the tide pools in La Jolla. We were talking, I'm sure, of something of global importance and lagging behind the rest of the family. (Good thing) I had my hands in my shorts pockets and was walking slowly along stepping over small crevices in the rocks and avoiding the clear pools of water in the small hollows. I noticed the rocks were wet where I was walking and had full confidence in my brand new non-slip sailing shoes. WRONG! - Second mistake of the day. It's funny how quick you go down when you hit a patch of green algae on wet rocks.

I have been blessed with above average athletic ability and lightning quick reflexes; albeit a 54 year old reflex at this writing. In a nano-second I went into what appeared to be the old high school football "whistle drill". At the sound of the whistle you hit the ground on your stomach and bounce up running until the next whistle. It wasn't quite that smooth. Yes, I started to go down hard, face first. I don't know how I managed to get my hands out of my pockets in time to catch myself and avoid french-kissing some barnacles. I must have looked like I was doing semaphore at warp speed. Now on all fours I was trying to avoid the inevitable face plant and smearing algae all over myself. Actually, like all egotist athletes I was trying to make it look natural and come out of it as if it were an advanced Olympic floor-tumbling exercise. No such luck. I was slipping and sliding like a deer on ice. You couldn't tell if I was trying to finger paint on all-fours or imitating a drunk spider doing push-ups! I finally managed to create friction with two of my limbs and develop some traction. I saved it! No face plant. I slowly worked my way to my feet, stood tall and acted as if I had planned it that way.

Natalie is her mother's daughter. Raucous laughter echoed off the rocks of the nearby cliffs. She had just witnessed the $100,000 winner of America's Funniest Home Video's. Bummer -no video camera present. I am sure I made the old people at the picnic tables above laugh too. They probably come there every day and sit there just waiting for some gringo like me to hit that patch of algae and go down like a flopping tuna on a sport fishing boat. I was no worse for wear and had managed to not tear any muscles or clothing in the process. Best of all, my ego was still intact, despite my daughters guffaws. I'm just glad the whole family didn't witness it. I would have been the topic of conversation, imitation and laughter the whole weekend. Just a private show for you Natalie!

Editors Note

I have realized that I get a little too serious in my blogs. I figured since the thing that got me started writing was my sense of humor that I should be a little more light-hearted about this and not editorialize so much. So for the next while I will attempt to make myself laugh. It doesn't really matter whether it's funny to you. After all, this is my Blog!

Navy SEALs

I find myself in San Diego, California. Place of my birth. We are here on a family vacation. As a family we enjoy Coronado Beach. I spent a lot of time there as a teenager and my kids have adopted it as theirs. At 9PM Thursday night we were walking the grounds of the Hotel Del Coronado. As we approached the hotel from the beach side I could hear the unmistakable sounds of Navy SEALs training at the jetty just south. We were drawn to the shouting of the instructors, the unified chorus of response from the different teams. Initially all we could see were what appeared to be about ten small groups. Each group identifiable by eight green light sticks moving in unison in the dark distance. From previous experience I knew what they were doing. Paddling out in a raft past the breakwater, then on a signal paddling back in. As a team carrying the raft over the jetty, then wet and cold and in full uniform, standing at perfect attention until the team was told to do it again. Training. It happened to be a warm October evening. The water in San Diego hasn't started to take on it's winter temperature just yet. It wouldn't have mattered. These men train in all conditions. War is not seasonal.

I have driven up the Silver Strand 1000 times and passed the Amphibious Base located there. Home of Sea Bees, the previously designated Underwater Demolition Teams, Frogmen and the now modern Navy SEALs. In fact, the summer of 1975 I worked as a civilian on the Amphibious Base and saw these men up-close. They seemed so old to me at that time. I was 22. In reality they were most likely my age or younger. As I watched them that evening I thought of how young they really were and yet how willing each one was to volunteer to be charged with the responsibility of protecting my freedom and the freedoms of people not of our country.

The first team of Navy SEALs was commissioned in 1962. In 1987 the modern day SEALs became part of the Naval Special Warfare Command. I want to emphasize the word "SPECIAL". The 300 Spartans at Thermopylae had nothing on these guys. I told my sons and daughters who were with me that these were special men training for special assignments of the most critically dangerous kind. We were witnessing the making of the best warriors in the world. I don't agree with war. I hate war. SEALs I'm sure, loathe war as many of them have faced that ugly and vicious dragon up-close and personal. I have only seen it on TV. But the reality of the world we live in today requires men to step up and take a position on the dangerous front line of freedom where philosophies clash and bullets fly. These were the boys that allowed us to keep the privilege of having a peaceful family vacation in Coronado. The irony of SEALs training within the view of the fantasy people were experiencing as guests of the revered Hotel Del Coronado was not lost on me.

I just started the book by Navy SEAL, Marcus Luttrell; "Lone Survivor". It is a true story of Navy SEALs who served in Afghanistan. I don't need to read the book to know it is a story of courage, preparedness, teamwork and ultimate sacrifice. My interest in reading the book has been intensified. I want to personally thank all the people in the military for their service to me and my family. For allowing me to live a free life. I want to thank all the veterans. Particularly my father, Leonard Black Jr., U.S. Navy WWII, my father-in-law, Melvin Sven Johnsen, U.S. Army WWII, and my brother-in-law, Michael Johnsen, U.S. Army, Vietnam. I want to thank Marcus Luttrell and SEAL Team 10. I want to thank all the young but fully capable U.S. Navy SEALs for their dedication to duty, sacrifice and unwavering patriotism and loyalty to country and constitution. I wanted to shout out to those young men, "You make us proud gentlemen. You are the best!" I didn't, and have felt bad that they don't know how this citizen feels. That's why I'm writing this.

I entered a restaurant today for dinner. As I opened the door an officer of the U.S. Navy was walking out. He hesitated, I am sure to let me pass first. I stepped back and held the door open for him. He smiled and as he walked through said, "Thank you." I looked him square in the eye and said, "No. Thank YOU, Sir!" I hope he caught my meaning.

Nice Shoes!

There are certain movies that you watch every time you stumble across them in a channel surfing moment. At least a few minutes of them. If it's late and you're up you will probably watch the whole movie for the 30th time. A few of those movies for me are, Predator (which I watched 15 minutes of just last night - you know the part where Arnold puts mud all over his body and stalks the predator because the beast can't see his heat signature through the mud...) The original Die Hard, The Bourne Identity, and The Italian Job. But they aren't all macho "man" movies either. I always get sucked into Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail. I've already told you I was a hopeless romantic. Two others are Dave and The American President. There are even lines from movies that have stuck with us over the years and have become part of our conversational vocabulary.

There is a scene in The American President where Michael Douglas, portraying President Andrew Shepherd, is getting ready to go out on a date with Sydney Ellen Wade, the lobbyist played by Annette Bening. The President's daughter Lucy is fixing his bow tie and the widowed father asks his daughter if she is OK with him going out with another woman. Lucy assures him it is totally OK with her and sends him happily on his way. As he departs Lucy says to him, " Tell her she has nice shoes. Women like it when you notice their shoes." He later uses the corny line and it works. "Nice Shoes".

This blog has nothing to do with anything, but isn't that true of all my blogs? I just found this cartoon really funny and decided to write about it. It just made me laugh. Maybe it will do the same for you.

Ruuun BeeYotch Ruuun!!!

Cecily -"Hurry, I don't feel so good", Natalie -"I did it!", Marian -"Will anyone run a 10K with me?", and Emily -"Can we go to Cafe Rio now!?"

The weekend took the family to the St George, Utah Marathon. No, we didn't all run it. Are you kidding? I would like to be in the kind of shape that it takes to run a marathon; but pardon me... I have no interest! We all went to support my oldest daughter Natalie in this, her second marathon. The object for Natalie was to finish the marathon. The object for us, the spectators, was to wade through the mass of people and road closures and hopefully find a few places along the way to cheer and yell out encouragement to our runner. I also had time to reflect on the fact of how grateful I was to not be one of those people running by with pained gray faces and beyond weary bodies. I am proud to say that in her second marathon Natalie shattered her time by 38 minutes. A time of 4:33:05. You Go Girl!!

When I caught her at mile 24 I could tell she was in a lot better shape than her first marathon experience. She even smiled and waved. I guess like anything else, once you know what to expect you are better prepared. The thing about running a marathon is the marathon of preparation that precedes the race. That in itself is an accomplishment worth noting.

I am proud of my daughter and her goal oriented discipline. As I have said in a previous blog, "She gets that from her Mom".

Congratulations Natalie. I am proud of you. Ruuun BeeYotch Ruuun!!

People on the Subway

Yesterday I had lunch with my friend Charan Singh from work. Charan is not from Utah he is from Delhi, India. Charan is not Mormon he is Sikh. Charan smokes, and by his own admission has a couple of other unhealthy habits. He is liberal and outspoken. On the surface Charan and I have nothing in common other than we are male, we are married, we have the same job and we both laugh outloud when someone trips and falls. He is not a person I would probably hang with on the weekend or join he and his wife for dinner on a Friday night and plan a vacation together.

Charan has a contagious laugh and I love his sing-song lilting Indian accent. He is an extremely intelligent man in his early thirties and one of the best options traders I have ever met. He and I have led completely different lives. We don't have politics or religion in common.

Charan has a gift of understanding human nature. He is very philosophical and has an insight into what makes people tick and why they think what they think. On many occasion he has shared his observations of me and my successes and failures; my complaints and challenges. He has offered me some incredible insight and advice on conquering the demon I seem to be afflicted with at present. He has said things to me that have stopped me in my tracks and voiced truths that have been painful to hear. He has caused me to ponder and think deeply on what is holding me back in certain areas of my life. He has truly been instrumental in my recent decision and success with dieting.

A week ago he and I were moved to a quiet area of the office and will be working in close proximity to one another. He came up to me yesterday with a BB gun in his hand and asked me to come out and shoot it with him. We set up a water bottle and took turns plugging holes in it from 20 yards. We laughed. He told me a story about when he was a boy. He shot a bird with a BB gun. He felt so bad he picked the bird up in his hands and cried. He took the bird to his temple and asked for forgiveness and vowed never to shoot a bird again. I remember having a similar experience as a young boy. I hit my bird with a rock. I picked the bird up in my hands and cried and vowed never to throw a rock at another bird. After target practice he invited me to go to lunch with him. I am grateful for my association with this man and his insight and caring. He will truly be a light and a mentor and help me improve my thinking and my performance.

OK- Back to the people on the subway.

Our lives are filled with people that are homogeneous to ourselves and our beliefs. We spend the majority of our time with people that think like we do, believe how we do and look through the same glasses. Nothing wrong with that. That is human nature and allows us the luxury to be comfortable in our surroundings and validate our thinking and our lives.

I have had occasion to ride the subway in a few large cities. We board, find a seat alone somewhere and look at all the suspicious and dark people around us. We would never be friends with them. We most likely would never engage in a conversation with them. What could we possibly have in common with these people? And after all, we will only be associated with them for the next 5 to 10 minutes. How many people do we come in contact with that are like the people on the subway? People we work with. People in the line at the store, or seated next to us in an airplane or at a sporting event. People that are very different than ourselves. Men and women that lead different lives, have different political views, religious beliefs, cultures and ethnicity. People we think couldn't possibly know our struggle or have any insight to help us cope, work through or ultimately change our stars. People like Charan that we would never talk to on the subway. After all, we will only be travelling with them for 5-10 minutes.

It is those very people that look at life through different glasses that could potentially share with us the most insightful thoughts about our own journey. They could make our journey much richer, help us see things from a unique perspective and open our minds and hearts to real positive change. You never know. Maybe I could share something from my different life experience that would help them.

My challenge to myself is to talk to more people on the subway. The God I believe in talks to all of them. He listens to them and helps them find answers to their prayers. He helps them see their struggle in a different perspective so it becomes a more positive experience. That's why He is God. He created us all different for a very good reason. Why shouldn't I be more like Him and talk to all the people on the subway?

...I swear in the days still left we'll walk in the fields of gold....

...So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I’ve broken
But I swear in the days still left
We’ll walk in the fields of gold
We’ll walk in the fields of gold...


Sting
Ten Summoners Tales
A&M Records 1993

Lake Mead 1984

I have had this picture on my desk for a long time. Lake Mead houseboat trip 1984. Great time! Great company! Great sunglasses Marian! Great hair Rick! I like this picture because of the attitude. The tiger-by-the-tail time of our life before the rains came. Lot of water under the bridge since this picture was taken. But this is who we are. Who I am! We can't recapture the moment but we can recapture the feeling. I love shaggy long hair, tan dry skin and rough edges. I love the feel of a well worn Gordon & Smith t-shirt. Bare feet, ski-boats and beautiful women in bathing suits. Water balloon launchers, barbecues and sleeping in a sleeping bag on the top deck. Laughing so hard with your friends you puke! Getting up before the sun rises to catch the smooth water and hitting the glass once again just before sunset. This is who I am. Time and life have occasionally made me forget that. That's why I keep this picture on my desk - to remind me. I am fun. I am laughter. I fix the boat when it breaks down and enjoy it. I am the first one up in the morning and the last one to bed at night. I'm the one that starts the fire in the morning that allows others to wake up to the smell of bacon frying. I'm the one at the end of a long day and night that secures everything, turns out the lights and then finds a quiet place to read or just look out on the water for an hour or two meditating. Why have I forgotten this? Why have I lost touch with this guy in the picture? He's funny as hell and if you want to have a really good time on your vacation you make sure he and his beautiful wife come with you. Plus...He owns the boat and he's buying!

Excuse me while I go outside and stand on the fence post, flap my wings and crow like a rooster. COCKADOOODLEDOOOO!!!

Now I have to go back to work.... (but I am starting the long journey back by growing my hair out)

My Morning Walk in Paradise

This week the seminar circuit takes me to beautiful Honolulu, Hawaii. By the time we got checked into the hotel, scouted the seminar room and made last minute technical changes and arrangements, which included a 2 mile walk to the mall to buy a missing power cord for our projector, the day was pretty much shot. Dinner and in bed by 8:30 Hawaii time (12:30 MST) No wonder I was tossing and turning at 4AM this morning. I can’t tell you the last time I slept till 8AM in the morning. That’s what time my body was telling me it was. I felt kind of funny getting up in the dark to go check my email in the lobby of the hotel. I wasn’t the only one. There were other people out of their respective time zones doing the same thing. By about 5AM the sky was starting to turn that pre-sunrise purple blue color. I decided to check my laptop in at the front desk and take a walk.

Southeast on Kalakaua Avenue takes one past all the high-end shopping and eventually to the beach at Waikiki. I walked past Tiffany’s, Chanel, Dior, Burberry, Fendi, Ferragamo, and the Wyland Art Gallery. Then it was Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Bvlgari, Rolex. Each lit up like Christmas showing their overpriced wares to the overpriced ego’s that shop there. All the stores I don’t shop in. I guess when I have the money I will probably go to Tiffany’s once a year for a trinket for Marian. I was simply hoping to find a 24 hour ABC Store so I could get a cheap pair of shorts. No such luck. My walk took me to the Royal Hawaiian. The pink palace. Queen and matron of Waikiki. Marian and I had the privilege of staying here for a week in 1999 so I have a certain attachment. The building is historical and beautiful. I walked through the open lobby into the inner courtyard. It’s like walking through a tunnel to Shangri-La. The grounds are impeccable. Each blade of grass and flower seem hand trimmed. The tremendous banyan tree was preparing to shade yet another wedding. The white tables and chairs in neat stacks were there waiting for the morning crew to begin the set up.

I walked through the courtyard garden to the modern tower of the Royal Hawaiian where Marian and I stayed. I proceeded down the steps to the pool and beyond to the sands of the beach. Off with the sandals! The cool sands of Waikiki felt like new, thickly padded carpet on my tired bare feet. There aren’t a lot of people on the beach at 5AM. Even Waikiki. A few fellow strollers and of course, the hardiest of surfers, at least a dozen or so. Certainly not the thousands of bodies that would dot the sand and surf like ants in an ant farm in a few short hours. I rolled up my Levis and with sandals in hand stepped into the easy waves lapping the sleepy shoreline. AHHHH! To truly understand how that made me feel, you need to read my previous blog, “The Ocean”. I made a commitment at that moment to begin each morning here at 5AM in the surf at Waikiki to regenerate and stimulate my thinking. Awaken and invigorate my dreams again.

Ironically there was a twinge of sadness mixed with the rush of pleasant emotion. How could that be? How could there be any sadness in paradise? Not necessarily sadness but hollowness, loneliness. I was alone. Marian wasn’t here. My family wasn’t here. It would have been so much better with them walking beside me, sharing the moment. I don’t ever want to be here alone again. As beautiful as it is. The sights of surf and sunrise. The sounds of the waves and birds. The smells of the ocean and the flowers. All of that diminished by the absence of a tender, yet strong, female voice. I wanted to punctuate the moment with easy conversation, the feel of her warm familiar hand, and the sight of her beautiful feet with freshly painted pink toenails leaving their prints in the wet sand in unison next to me. Call me a hopeless romantic. Guilty as charged. It is not complete here without her. Never again will I come here without the person I love.

Well it’s off to the store to find a cheap pair of board shorts so I can completely baptize myself tonight and again at 5AM tomorrow morning. It is time to renew! Aloha!

Holy Mitt!?

You just knew I wouldn’t be able to remain silent. I have finally organized my thoughts sufficiently on this subject into an opinion I can put on paper. Previously they were random with no connecting thread. I found the connecting thread. It was an address given by Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve on February 29th, 1992 to the Brigham Young University Management Society, Washington D.C. Whether you believe Dallin H. Oaks wears the mantel of a modern day Apostle is irrelevant. His office and calling do not detract one iota from the clarity and truthfulness of this message.
In fact, understanding where the root of this message is derived only gives it a deeper ring of truth.

I am offended by media pundits or other less enlightened citizens that bring into question the religion of a presidential candidate. Not the fact that they bring it into question but the ignorance and maliciousness in which it is done. Today it was suggested by one writer that Mitt Romney is the one that brings up the subject and the fact that he is persecuted so if he isn’t elected he has the excuse that it was the people that persecuted his religion that caused him to lose. How absurd!

This election is all about integrity, leadership, and who can get the job done. Who can manage the “business” of government. Who can draw from a pool of talented people with different philosophies to create business solutions that work for the American people. As opposed to someone who knows how to work the political system and create an ugly duckling solution that is not good for anyone. Who has less of an axe to grind? Personal agenda to push? If anyone really understood the “Mormons” they would understand how low on the priority list the following achievements are; Rising to the top of the heap and holding the most powerful office in the world. Having your portrait engraved on a coin or printed on a dollar bill. A statue, memorial. A street or school named after you.

A true Mormon’s legacy is not found in a library in his home town at the end of his term. A true Mormon’s legacy is written in his home, his family. The selfless service given to others along the way. The giving and sharing of love and charity. Helping feed the poor, housing the homeless and caring for the afflicted and persecuted. Those are the core beliefs true Mormons subscribe to. What’s wrong with a President with those attributes?

According to the politically intelligent if those attributes stem from religious belief and conviction they are not worthy of the public platform. Let me quote from Dallin Oaks address.

“Many differences of opinion over the role of religion in public life simply mirror a difference of opinion over whether there are moral absolutes.”

… “Some moral absolutes or convictions must be at the foundation of any system of law. This does not mean that all laws are so based. Many laws and administrative actions are simply a matter of wisdom or expediency. But many laws and administrative actions are based upon the moral standards of our society. If most of us believe that it is wrong to kill or steal or lie, our laws will include punishment for those acts. If most of us believe that it is right to care for the poor and needy, our laws will accomplish or facilitate those activities. Society continually legislates morality. The only question is whose morality and what legislation.”

I could never have written words more inspired and clear. The only question indeed is, “whose morality and what legislation.” What if voters took that thought into the voting booth and judged each candidate based on that point alone. The poles may show a different leader. It appears that historically, with the aiding and abetting of the press, the misinformed public seek out and rally behind a candidate that is ambivalent about moral absolutes. Leaving room for the popular interpretation of the day. Not necessarily the correct interpretation.

The concern with Mitt Romney is the fear that he would push the LDS definition of the moral absolute on our country. Tongue in cheek I say, what’s wrong with that picture? Absolutely nothing! Dallin Oaks continues in his address on this perceived dilemma.

“I have a hard time believing that the teachings of religions or churches deprive their adherents of any more autonomy in exerting the rights of citizenship than the teachings and practices of labor unions, civil rights groups, environmental organizations, political parties, or any other membership group in our society.”

As citizens of this country we have been victimized by lobbyists pushing private agendas and private definitions of moral absolutes. We seem to be OK with the thievery, dishonesty, self-serving political motives driving these lobbyists. But we are willing to assume that a citizen running for president who was raised drinking from a cup of honesty and integrity and sound moral absolutes would be detrimental to the rights and privileges our constitution guarantees. Once again I say, what’s wrong with that picture?

I don’t care who you vote for. But do you want more of the same? Do we need moral leadership? Or do we just need leadership? After all, Hitler was a great leader. Does the business of government need to be repaired? Why don’t we try a successful businessman this time instead of a successful politician? Why don’t we try someone who is more concerned with how he will be remembered by his family and a right and just God rather than how he will be portrayed by the political spin doctors in media.

It’s your choice. Vote your conscience, but remember, that’s a moral absolute too!

Here is the link so you can read the entire address of Elder Oaks. It will enlighten you.

http://www.lds.org/portal/site/LDSOrg/menuitem.b12f9d18fae655bb69095bd3e44916a0/?vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&locale=0&sourceId=4bd89209df38b010VgnVCM1000004d82620a____&hideNav=1

The Most Recent MVHS Graduate

Did I tell you how much I love my 4 girls?! Especially Cecily, she's my favorite! (But I tell each of them that) She graduated from high school a couple of weeks ago. She's a 4.0 student but that's not what her report card said. But I will tell you this, she had more fun than any high school kid should be allowed. She did it right. Smart, pretty, athletic, a great sense of humor, all the boys like her .... what else could you ask for. She is a joy to have around. There isn't a time that we sit down as a family or partial family that she doesn't make us laugh with her faces and voices. She is a living, breathing, walking Saturday Night Live gig. She lights up a room.

Each one of my girls has a special place in my heart. They all are so different yet have so many things in common. And they love each other so very much. Fortunately they got their grace and beauty from their mother. I can claim some of their intelligence and athleticism, but then again, they got that from their mother too. Their activism and social conscience, from mom again. OK - their sense of humor and contagious laughter, mom again. Their strength, drive and goodness. Concern for their fellow-man. Friendliness, outgoing personality. Loyalty, work ethic. I guess I will concede...mom again on all points. Ability to be on time to meetings...YES! Two of them got that from me!

Did I tell you how much I love my 5 girls?!

A Different Kind of June 6th

Wherever you are sitting today when you read this I'd like you to look out the window. Consider your troubles, consider your future, consider your opportunities. Then consider the enormous price that was paid to allow you to have the freedom to look out the window and ponder these things; most importantly the right and freedom to change your stars.

JUNE 6TH, 1944 was a very different kind of June 6th than the one you see out your window today. Especially if you found yourself on the beaches at Normandy, France on D-Day.

To all of you who were there - Thank You! Thank you for allowing me the peace to look out my window and ponder my freedom and opportunities.

Another Agonizing SHOOTOUT!

Reprinted from Utah Rangers Website May 24th 2007

'93 Rangers Beat Unbeatable #1 State Cup Seed To Advance To Semi Finals

It took the Rangers '93 team ten minutes in the opening half to calm down after the referee's whistle opened the match. In a game considered the "match of death" by the the other six quarter finalist U14 teams gathered to watch the overtime match at Lakeside Park on Wednesday, the grim reaper tapped out the Rangers '93 Premier team to face the #1 seeded Sparta Premier team. On paper Sparta appeared unbeatable. On the field the Rangers proved otherwise.

A 2-1 pool-play loss to Wasatch Shock forced the Rangers into a quarter final match against a formidable Sparta team, the defending state cup champions. It wasn't until David Hardman beat the Sparta right wing defender at the 15 minute mark that the Rangers organized enough attacking play that resulted in two dangerous shots on goal and a second half push with two one-v-one's by Winston Sorhaitz and David Hardman only to be turned back Sparta's talented keeper to preserve the tie and force the overtime and shootout.

Ranger Shooter #1, Ryan Wilson, placed the ball into the lower right corner and Keegan Black followed with a save of Sparta's first shooter. Ranger forward Winstons Sorhaitz and Defender Parker Lopp gave Sparta a one goal advantage when they knocked both their shots over the crossbar forcing a decision on Sparta's fifth shooter. Luck prevailed when Sparta shot wide, sending the decision into extra shots. Josue Cisneros was good for the Ranger's sixth shot but Sparta answered with an equalizing goal. In rare dramatic fashion, Ranger midfielder Lincoln Salmon's seventh shot was saved, but the referee whistled the goalkeeper was off his line early and Salmon knotted his second try while Sparta lost the match when their seventh shooter went wide.

Well done Rangers '93. Now its on to a Semi Final win on Friday.

"Delightfully Tacky - Yet Unrefined"

I saw a guy in a Hooters shirt the back of which stated, "Delightfully Tacky - Yet Unrefined". That about sums it up. I looked on the Hooters website to see if that was a trademark statement or just simply a fact. I learned that there is a Hooters Lifestyle Section, what could that be? I didn't bother to look. There is a Gallery and the Hooters Girl-of-the-Month and a shop-online section for all the great orange Hooters gear from calendars, coffee mugs to golf bags. You can even get you own personalized Hooters Visa Card. You've got to be kidding me! Despite how I have started off here this is not an article about Hooters. It could be. Hooters is just symptomatic of another issue.

I grew up in California. Not that everything in California is cool but since moving to Utah a whole new side of what I would call "Americana" has been revealed to me. It's not unique to Utah (although Utah has some Americana uniqueness itself) Maybe it's because a lot of Utah is "country". Outside of Salt Lake there isn't a lot of urban sprawl. Most of urban Utah is touched by and borders the "country" and everything that comes with it. I apologize to you people that might consider yourselves country folk. You can write your own blog about those of us who grew up in urban sprawl on the California coast if you want. If not, just sit down, read and laugh with me here a minute.

I was never one to sport designer clothes too much. I never relished the thought of being a walking billboard for the likes of Ralph Lauren, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Gucci, Dior, Armani or Nordstrom for that matter. OK, I did buy a pair of Gucci slip-ons once in New York when I was a stock trader. Frankly I liked the look of the little gold trademark Gucci buckle across the front of the shoe. And I own an Armani tie my wife got me at the thrift store for a quarter. I don't think that qualifies me as a fashion icon.

But I have to say this, clothing by Cabela's, Browning or Big-5 doesn't qualify either. Yet these logos are worn with the same pride an 80's yuppie wears the Polo horse on his/her chest. OK, maybe that's not extreme enough to explain what I am trying to say here. Let me try and hit a little closer to the target. What's with the decal on the back window of trucks with the little kid peeing on everything from a Ford logo to the words "my ex-wife"? And I love the chrome nude lady on the mud-flaps. It just doesn't get much more unrefined than that.

I can take or leave tattoos, mostly leave; but when I see someone with a tattoo creeping up out of their shirt and up the side of their neck like the mystery plague I have to say, the words "delightfully tacky" do come to mind. It always makes me wonder what it's growing out of....eeeeewwwww!

I like hats , but when I see a man who looks like he's a quart low all the time because from his nose up he is butt-white because he never takes his hat off, it makes me wonder. We go from Yankees and Dodgers to CAT and John Deere - I know those are two of my favorite teams! How about "Sexy Senior Citizen". There's nothing sexy about a senior citizen. There's nothing even funny about using those words in the same sentence, let alone having them emblazoned on the front of your hat. What about the 60 year-old lady with the glitter shirt that says, " I hit the Jackpot in Wendover!" Darn, I'm sorry I missed that trip. I'll bet that was fun. I would hate to admit I got my tennis elbow from a slot machine.

Where do some of these people get name books when they have children? Not at the Barnes and Noble I shop at! I guess if your name is Dale and you have a daughter it's OK to change the spelling to Dael and call it good. Or Darryl becomes Darelle... whatever works. Shontay, or is it Shontae! Laverle, Gaylene, Heavenly-Treasure, Lawanda, Shandalyn, Chewbacca.....gad zooks! Give your poor child a break. Life is tough enough without living with names you have to explain.

Willya borrow me a pencil? Lets go upta Salt Lake. Let's go downta St.George. We played a good game but they wunnus. Won us? And my personal favorite, my daughter goes to the BYU. "The" BYU? Is that the same thing as going to the Harvard or the Stanford?


Jeff Foxworthy does a much better job at this. But I just had to give it my two cents. "Delightfully Tacky - Yet Unrefined" is alive and well in the Utah.

Who is Hank Hill voting for?

Politics is not the first thing you would think Hank, Dale, Boomhauer and Bill are talking about in the alley while having a cold one. But like every other blue-blooded American it is not far from their lips. In fact one of Hanks favorite sayings is, "Nobody likes a knowitall who sits around talking about their genitalia." Do you think Hank was discussing politics when he made that statement? It caused me to pause and think, "Who would Hank Hill vote for".

So with some conjecture and analysis and a lot of tongue-in-cheek I will attempt to put a ballot in their hands and get them to speak out. It should prove to be interesting and potentially thought provoking. Hank and the boys have become American Icons. They are real, everyday people we all know. They are so believable to us that we think that we could drive down to Arlen and find them standing in the alley on a warm Texas evening. As for myself, I would love to stand there shoulder to shoulder holding my own cold one (in my case a Mountain Dew, although Hank besides beer probably only has Dr Pepper in the fridge) and join in the banter, challenge their political beliefs and get them to speak up and tell us what they think. My apologies in advance to creator Mike Judge.

Dale is the owner of "Dales Dead Bug" extermination service. Dale is a chain smoker and loves golf. He is a conspiracy theorist and believes government is out to get us. "Guns don't kill people. The Government does." Dale is paranoid. Dale is a card carrying member of the NRA. Golf and guns would make him a Republican but Dale trusts no one... "You really believe they landed on the moon?" Dale is a veteran. Dale supports the troops but most likely thinks we should drop the bomb because they eventually find the weapons of mass destruction. He voted for Bush but that not being an option he is leaning toward McCain the hawk. But POW's are pussies who couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag so he is torn. Dale doesn't believe anyone is qualified to lead the country. He would vote for Oliver Stone if he could, because Oliver "gets it". He really wishes Cheney was running "cuz that ol' boy can shoot!

Boomhauer has an IQ of a hockey score. He talks like mumbles on Dick Tracy. I think Boomhauer did too many drugs. He loves NASCAR and naked chicks on the internet. He voted for Clinton and was pissed he got caught with Monica. "Dang ol' Bill man that's Bills business". He wishes Ricky Bobby was running cuz Ricky's a winner. And dang we need a winner in the White House! Boomhauer won't get around to voting because he'll be busy working on his car

Bill is like a deer caught in the headlights and will vote for pretty much anyone Hank tells him to vote for. Bill is a Barber for the Armed Forces of America. He also supports the troops and has a yellow ribbon and a flag on the tree in his front yard but can't remember why they are there. Bill voted for Ross Perot in 1992 because he thought Perot made sense... "If you see a snake, just kill it - don't appoint a committee on snakes." That made perfect sense to Bill and made him laugh. Bill won't vote for Mitt Romney because, "I like beer. Don't you like beer? I mean, I love beer." Romney's a Mormon and they don't drink beer.

The burning question still remains. Who will Hank Hill vote for? Hank's a conservative. He's a Republican. He sells propane -clean fuel. He most likely agrees with Al Gore on global warming but won't get on the bandwagon until he sees icebergs floating in Galveston Bay. Hank is pissed we haven't won the war in Iraq and thinks we made a mistake. Hank is for Gay Rights, "They have the right to leave and go to France!" He worries gays will have an negative influence on his son Bobby. The Immigration issue can be solved with a wall like the Chinese did to the Mongols. Peggy, Hanks wife is a big influence on Hank. Peggy is outspoken and an activist. She's the moral compass of moral compasses. Peg is a Democrat. "That Barack is smooth but I just don't know about him," she will say. Peg would counsel Hank to vote for Hillary Clinton. Hank will acquiesce to her request, much to Peg's delight but once in the booth Hank will vote for Rudy Giuliani "Because voting is a private issue and you don't have to tell anyone who you voted for, even Peg." That means Bill will vote for Rudy too but wonder why he's voting for an Italian.

Hank would tell all of us to vote our conscience. He wouldn't argue with your choice, he would be happy that you exercised your right as an American citizen to vote. He would hope you would vote for people that would allow him to stand shoulder to shoulder with his best friends in the back alley, have a beer and have the freedom of speech to talk or complain about anything. I agree.

Hail the Graduate!

As a parent I have many hopes for my children. The achievement of those hopes are mostly up to them. You try and provide them an environment of love, peace and learning where they can develop self-confidence and ambition. Once they become mentally independent and then actually move out on their own there’s not much else you can do. You hope you’ve raised good citizens, taught them the value of hard work and that in the end they will become self-sufficient. All the rest is gravy.

Kind, sweet and tender as a little girl, Hilary has always shown strength of conviction. She has been generous and loving to her brothers and sisters. She is a bit stubborn and quick to show her emotions. Her opinions are equally based on fact and feeling. Through the genes of her good mother she has a deep social consciousness and desire for fairness in the lives of her fellow human being. She is a loyal friend. She is independent and solution minded. Handy at home and car repairs, she could be called a “Miss Fix-it”. I am not at all surprised that she just earned her degree from the College of Social and Behavioral Science at the University of Utah.

Hilary has a long list of accomplishment to her credit. Shortly after graduating from high school she moved out and began working and attending classes at the University of Utah. Immediately she was self-sufficient. Always the saver and the best of all our children with her personal budget; she paid her rent on time, made her car payment, paid for car repairs and always seemed to have enough left to take annual trips to places like Europe, Hawaii and Costa Rica, all while plowing through a tough university schedule.

After a year or so of college she felt the desire to serve a mission for the LDS church. She was called to the Romania, Bucharest mission. She learned a difficult language and served in a handful of cities throughout Romania spending her last six months in Moldova. She gained a great testimony of the gospel and a deep love for the Romanian people.

Back home after 18 months out of the country she tackled school and became focused once again on her education. Plowing forward, struggling, and taking a step at a time a day at a time she has finally made it. It has been hard work but she has had a lot of fun along the way. An avid reader and movie fan she always has a book or two she is reading and a stack of DVD’s to watch. She has tempered her journey by rewarding herself with frequent Dave Matthew’s concerts and the anticipation of the next “road trip”.

I am sure as she looks back she is satisfied with her accomplishments, but by her nature, insecure about the next step and opportunity. Well done Hilary! You are a great example. You have made us all proud. Look well toward the future. Let your accomplishments of the past give you confidence in your abilities for the future.

Like I said; if your children turn out to be good citizens, know the value of hard work and are self-sufficient, as a parent you feel like you have succeeded. The rest is gravy. Hilary – you have filled the gravy boat! Congratulations graduate!

…So when’s the next Dave Matthews concert and where’s the next road trip taking you?

Illegal Immigrants

Today on MSNBC there was an article entitled, "Immigrant rights groups rally across the U.S." Here is the link, http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18411370/

While personally I harbor no ill-will to any specific group of people, I am troubled by the current situation. My opinions and convictions run deep. I decided to post a comment to that article which I am publishing here as well. I will let the article and my comments speak for themselves.

It appears that the people that "don't have the courage", to quote Angelica Salas, "to resolve a major situation", is not the American Congress. It is the illegals themselves who have chosen to break the laws and are now demanding Congress fix it for them. Sorry- it never worked that way for us in middle-America. I knew what the laws were, I chose to break them and now I want Congress to fix it for me!? What kind of logic is that? I came here illegally and therefore I have the right to engage in identity theft and use someone else's Social Security number illegally to obtain work? Boy Angelica, you're right, Congress better get right on that because there are currently no laws protecting all of us legal owners of Social Security cards. This issue will not be brushed under the rug during the upcoming Presidential campaign. This will be a huge issue. The silent majority will speak with a loud and unified voice with their votes. And that is a whole lot more than 12 million people! I hope we have a leader in the White House that will have the "huevos" (to coin a phrase) to man-up and deal with this head-on. Maybe true enforcement of existing laws would be a good start. This is the land of the free and it is for everyone. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, ..." is not exclusionary. As a citizen of this country I believe this inscription on our Statue of Liberty applies to all people. But just like at Ellis Island; get in line, sign up, do it right. Then there won't be a "major situation". What illegals fail to realize is that in large part, freedom in a true democracy is obtained first, by obedience to existing laws. Not willful disobedience and demanding change because the laws are not convenient. If that's not the case, then I am going to begin to seriously speed on the freeway and demand that Congress fix my tickets and give me and my people the right to speed!

- Richard Black, legal US Citizen.

The Ocean

I grew up with the smell of the ocean in my nostrils daily. It was in the air, the fog... it was in my soul. Not that I am a mariner who wants to go to sea and spend weeks and months at a time. But the ocean is every bit a part of me as a true mariner. I saw the ocean each day of my life growing up in San Diego. I just had to look west. I have great memories of the beach, the waves, the sand, the people, the fires, the laughter. The ocean was spring break, summer, music; a happy, active, energetic time of my life.

...I live in the mountains now.

I miss the ocean. I am Pisces. I have an intrinsic love of water. Pisces are governed by a duality, a struggle of the spiritual soul within the physical body. Two fish swimming in opposite directions... That's another blog completely. This is about the ocean.

The ocean invigorates me. It inspires me. It heals me. It makes me think bigger thoughts. It makes me want to throw off my self-imposed limits of thinking and accomplishment. It makes me want to be better, grow, succeed, reach-out, expand, create. The primordial soup is an elixir my soul welcomes and wantonly drinks. When I am physically in the ocean I feel my body absorbing it's strength and life. I can float and swim for hours. I dive and let it envelop me like caressing, caring, therapeutic hands. Each wave brings new feeling, new hope, new messages, rejuvenation, renewal.

I miss the ocean. I need the ocean. Of all the things I could think of doing right now, none would be as powerful, gratifying and healing as swimming against the oncoming waves of the ocean. I never actually swim against the waves. That's why I am good at it. I swim with them. I let them carry me, lift me, lower me, flow over and through me. It's a relationship, a dance. A giving and taking. I receive more than I give. I let the ocean wash the poison and pain away. Take with it the struggle and hurt. It allows me to walk away better and happier. With a few last kisses of my feet as I walk onto dry land.

The ocean is never innately angry. At times the ocean simply needs to throw off the anger and poison and self-defeat it has absorbed from people who have let her take it from us.

...I live in the mountains now.

Wall Street Wisdom

One of my favorite movies is the 1987 blockbuster "Wall Street". Well, maybe it wasn't a blockbuster. It was probably at best, a B+ movie. Even though Michael Douglas did win an Oscar for best actor in a leading role. The plot was simple. The characters predictable. I relate to the movie on a couple of levels. I spent time working on Wall Street. Although these characters are fictional, I have associated with the real people from which these characters were drawn. They do exist. I have worked with them. I have seen them in action. I have heard the speeches, seen the conflicts and felt the intense emotion evoked by being around that much money. The thing that I like most about the movie are the intriguing lines that have lived on beyond the movie itself. Many of these lines have come back to me throughout the years and I have used them as earmarks of conventional wisdom. For example:

Martin Sheen as Carl Fox. Blue collar aircraft worker as said to his son Bud Fox played by Charlie Sheen: "Stop going for the easy buck and start producing something with your life. Create, instead of living off the buying and selling of others."

Gordon Gekko, investor, corporate raider played by Michael Douglas in a speech at a shareholders meeting: "The point is, ladies and gentlemen, that greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works."

Hal Holbrook as Lou Mannheim, Bud Fox's boss and mentor: "The main thing about money, Bud, is that it makes you do things you don't want to do."

And one of my favorite lines which seems to be echoing in my head of late.

Once again Hal Holbrook as Lou Mannheim to the young broker Bud Fox: "A man looks in the abyss, there is nothing staring back at him. At that moment he discovers his character. That keeps the man out of the abyss."

Many times I have felt like I was staring into an abyss. Never more than at this time in my life. The question I ask myself daily is; Will I discover my true character and will it prevent me from falling into that abyss?

I will have to dig deep. I will have to summon every ounce of personal strength and will power. I will have to look to God, and the support of friends and family. But I am committed to not fall into that abyss.

Imus

I must say this... I don't excuse Don Imus for demeaning remarks about The Rutgers Women's Basketball team. It was rude, it was wrong. But I am curious about a couple of things. It seems we have two champions of equality and crushing out racism in Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson. They always appear at the forest fire like Smokey the Bear, except Smokey carries a can of water, Al and Jesse carry a can of gas. Whipping the fire into a frenzy and demanding the pendulum of inequality swing far to the other side. Swift and harsh punishment for the wrongdoers. A reminder to us ignorant folk that we still haven't climbed entirely out of the 60's. We have not fully realized Dr. Kings vision. (I have the utmost respect for Martin Luther King, his message and his humanity) In fact, it's interesting to think of what Dr. King would say to us in light of these events. I think it would be in sharp contrast to the Al and Jesse show.

I have a question. Someone please answer me. If Jesse and Al are so concerned with disparaging racial slurs and abusive verbal inhumanity to black women, why aren't they camped on every radio station doorstep that plays what has become known as Hip Hop? Screaming for boycotts of music stores that sell it. Have you listened to those lyrics lately? Have you viewed those videos lately? C mon' Jesse, Al. They make Don Imus look like Shakespeare. Where's the outrage? Where's the call to broadcasting for no play? For firings of the VJ's and DJ's that spin this blatant racism? Where's the rush of trampling feet of vacating advertisers from MTV and every radio station that promotes this kind of inhumanity to blacks and black women in particular? Speak up - Al, Jesse! Where's the outrage? Bitches and Ho's has become the new "N Word" for women. Where do you guess Don Imus first heard the term "Ho"? Could it have been a rap song? But I guess it's OK if it's propagated by black men. Someone help me here!

Duke Lacrosse Scandal

Over the past year I have followed with interest the Duke Lacrosse Scandal as it has become known. I have to weigh-in on the recent news that all charges have been dropped. For my part, I smelled a rat from the beginning. But I won't tell you, "I told you so." I wasn't there and I wasn't privy to all the evidence. We live in a country where the judicial system is based on the promise of a fair trial and you are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. What boils to the surface for me are two things, separate but related and tied to what we have become to know as "The Media". I am beginning to believe "the media" is the largest culprit. The media has become a forum for maverick and irresponsible influence peddling. The byword is "Spin". Mike Nifong , the prosecuting attorney should be hung from the rafters! Seizing a media frenzy he jumped at the opportunity to get votes for his upcoming campaign. Nifong lost sight of justice in attempt to appeal to a voting block. Doing the right thing may not be the convenient thing. Pandering to a minority vote that was justifiably enraged had the accusations been true. They too are at fault. The press represented the minority community standing outside the court screaming for a lynching before there was ever a trial.

The media early on turned this into a made for television movie. Journalist and newsrooms no longer motivated by truth but simply motivated by promoting careers and selling commercials. When the smoke cleared and wiser heads could step back and do the job the law of due process asks us to do the truth came out. The only winner here is justice. Every real person involved is a loser. The American public is a loser for having been dragged through this mud. The media once again proves to be delinquent in selling a spin cloaked in the constitutional guaranty of free press. Duke University is a loser. The Duke Lacrosse team is a loser. The victim is a loser. The community is a loser and now further polarized. The falsely accused are certainly the biggest losers of all. This has changed the course of their lives forever and not for the better. They were innocent....but were they?

Here is the lesson to all of us. Was there an appearance of evil? Was there a frat party flush with alcohol? Were strippers hired? Was there an atmosphere and occasion for a false accusation to be created and inflamed? Some would say this is just what college boys do. This is just part of the college experience. Far from true. I hope my boys don't make this behavior part of their natural and normal college experience. Hopefully my boys are better than that. Hopefully yours are too. It wasn't innocent behavior or an innocent atmosphere. It was ripe for bomb to go off. And it did. Unfortunately it went off in the faces of otherwise good men. It affected a lot of lives negatively. We are taught to avoid the appearance of evil. What goodness and positive life experience will come from a party of flowing alcohol and strippers. Call me prudish, call me moralistic. Call me whatever you like. It doesn't matter what the current spin on college life by the media would have you believe. When the smoke clears and wiser heads step back and the evidence is considered .... what good came of this?

My Favorite Songs

A friend of mine told me about a website that I could download songs for listening on my computer. These are free. Not the pay for play iTunes; but Share360 - kind of like the old Napster. My children have filled their iPods with songs and I am welcome to listen to their choices on my home computer or borrow their iPods. But the fact of the matter is I am 54, they are teenagers. We have different tastes in music. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of songs on the radio today that I like. But if I had a choice of favorite songs it would be those songs from when I was a teenager.

Why is that? Because there is more to a favorite song than just the melody and a beat. A favorite song is defined by it's emotional signature. It's a song that pinpoints a feeling or a time in our life. Many of those where when I was a teenager - late 60's early 70's. Or when I was a young adult and music was a daily part of my life, in my car, on my stereo (8 track to be exact). As I dated. When I met my wife to be. When I was in college living a simple married life. The music I listened to defines those times, those feeling. It seems as we grow older music is less a part of the times we experience. The music is replaced by the sound of children, and work and white noise. Not that we become less romantic or less drawn to the flame of music. It just becomes less important.

We simply drive around in welcome silence. If we do turn the radio on we listen to the news, talk radio, or the pre-programmed stations our kids have chosen. Then it happens. We stumble across a station and it's playing. We turn it up. Then we turn it up louder! We start singing the lyrics because we've sung them a thousand times. We start to move our heads, tap our hands on the steering wheel. We want to dance in the car. We are charged with emotion. We are once again taken to that place, in that moment, a long time ago. It is a magical emotional arousal. A physical and chemical awakening.

If someone is in the car with us and we say, "OH MAN, I love this song!" We turn it up. "This is one of my favorites!" Most likely they won't feel the same. Because they are just hearing a melody and a beat. They are not feeling the song the way we are. It's not taking them anywhere. My favorites are varied. Soft rock, hard rock, ballads, I don't discriminate. They have a common golden thread in the way they have intertwined with the fabric of my life's quilt. They have been with me through thick and thin. They will be my favorites until the day I die. Whether you like them is not important. They are my favorites!

The Curve Ball

I've spent a lot of time during my life standing in a batters box. Literally, as a young boy and a young man playing the game of baseball. Figuratively, as a man, father, husband, and employee. I've come to the conclusion that it's all about learning how to hit a curve ball!

There is nothing quite as intimidating as standing in a 4' x 6' chalked out piece of earth called a batters box. Not just standing in it, but adding the following variables make it really interesting. 60 feet 6 inches away is a person called a pitcher. This pitcher is preparing to throw a rawhide covered hardball about 3-1/2" in diameter as hard as he can in your direction. In fact, more than in your direction. He is trying to throw it into a little area called a strike zone. The strike zone is the space defined by a 17" wide "plate" on the ground in front of you whose height is loosely calculated from your armpits to your knees. The pitcher doesn't necessarily like you and he doesn't like the team you play for. On top of that, he wants you to look bad. You don't necessarily trust him, or his ability to throw the ball within the strike zone. This is not a good recipe.

Every logical bone in your body is telling you to move from where you are standing before you get seriously hurt. Hurling the ball straight at the strike zone is not good enough. At some point in baseball and baseball throwing history, someone invented the curve ball. The ability to spin the ball and make the air passing over the surface of the ball cause the ball to bend or curve. The amount of curve is dependant on one thing; the speed of the ball. (The novice here should understand that there is such a thing as a slow curve and a fast one) The pitcher places his index and middle fingers parallel to the red stitching on the ball. At the top of his throwing arc the pitcher snaps his wrist hard and downward. This produces a spinning push on the ball, causing the ball to curve when it interacts with the oncoming air pressure. OK - enough of the scientific chatter.

I repeat, the pitcher doesn't like you. His goal is to have you swing and miss 3 pitches and then set your sorry butt back down in the dugout. The curve ball is the equalizer. When it is thrown correctly to a left-handed batter from a left-handed pitcher, it looks like it is being thrown from first base. The idea here is to stay in the batters box. Don't let your mind tell you that the ball is coming from first base and looks like it is going to hit you right in the ribs. You have to forget all the logical signals. Ignore the minds inner protection devices and not respond to the nerve wrenching signal your brain is screaming to the rest of your body, "GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!"

You have to trust this person called a pitcher. Trust what you know about a curve ball and trust that it will ultimately end up out in front of you in the strike zone. At this point a couple of things can happen. You can engage your arms and legs into a twisting motion to bring the bat down and make contact with the ball. Hopefully hitting the ball straight back at the pitcher to let him know you don't like him either. Understand that this decision process has to take place in a nano second. The other thing is that it isn't a curve ball at all and your trust in the pitcher who hates you is misplaced. At that point the ball will hit you somewhere. Again, this is mind over matter. It's just a baseball. It only weighs about 5 ounces. It's only travelling at 80 or so miles an hour. You have a helmet on to prevent a "death-blow". What's the downside here?

I'll tell you the downside. It's a welt on your leg or back that will finally disappear after a week or two once it goes through a metamorphosis of color changes that encompass the entire rainbow. It is definitely a spot you don't want to touch for awhile or get poked or hit there again. But the real problem is the bruise it will put in your confidence. You just might want to listen to your brain when it shouts, "BAIL!!!!" next time a curve ball is approaching. You may move your back foot or interrupt the twisting motion. You may do a number of things that will cause you to never hit another curve ball solidly in your life. You may let your experience rent space in your head and bail on every curve ball in the future. You may never understand or have the confidence that you can actually hit a curve ball out of the park.

You have to hang in there. You can't listen to the wrong voices. Sometimes you have to go against everything logic is telling you. Stay planted. Keep your feet firm. Twist. Extend. Put the wood on it! CREAM IT! .... And if it hits you... it's just a welt. It will go away.

As for me; I've knocked a few out of the park.... and yes a few have left some serious welts.