An Evening of Volleyball

I watched the BYU Women's Volleyball games this weekend. It was the beginning of the NCAA finals and I wanted to make sure I watched them. I'm kind of a volleyball fan. In a rare event, the whole family was in the same room. I'll let you in on some of the conversation.

Tracy: Hayden, stop trying to break your father.
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Me: Look at Alexi. She runs the whole court, leaps and hits the ball and stops as soon as she hits the floor.
Hayden: It isn't that big of a deal. They're trained for that.
Me: So I can't appreciate it? Next time you win a wrestling match I'll just say, "No big deal, he was trained for that."
Hayden: No Dad, I mean it is just physics.
Me: Of all people, you don't have to tell me about physics. It is because I know physics that I am impressed.
Hayden: No I mean...
Me: You know, I might say when you graduate, "It's not that big of a deal. You know he studied for four years to do this."
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Hayden: How do you like that Dad? I used lots of big words there.
Me: Yeah, probably not use appropriately, but they were big words.
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<I don't know the context other than it was said.>
Hayden: ...next thing you know, quarters are shooting out of you.
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Bennet: OOOOWWWW!
Madsen: I didn't mean to Mom!
Bennet: Madsen kicked me in the crotch!
Tracy: Come here. Let me hug you, make you feel better.
Bennet: He needs to trim his toenails....stop laughing at me!
Tracy: We aren't laughing at you, you just said something kind of funny.
Madsen: I didn't mean to kick him, Mom!
Tracy: I know. How is your foot?
Me: Did your foot survive the gonad thrashing it received?
<Tracy is laughing so hard she can't breathe.>
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Me: Watch this Ellie, this is how you loosen the top of a pickel jar. <Banging the bottom of the jar>
Ellie: Sure, Dad.
Me: <trying to open it> Okay, let me bang on it harder. <More struggling> What the heck?!
Ellie: Give it to me.
Me: Great, my twelve-year-old daughter can open it and I can't?!
Ellie: <placing the jar on the table and takes the plastic cover off the lid.> There, try it now.
<Now I can't breathe because I'm laughing so hard.>
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Tracy: You know why I had to leave? It was your pickles.
Me: My pickles? Is that a euphemism?
Tracy: Ha. No. You chew and eat so regular. You chew the same number of times. You swallow with a rhythm. I can't be in the same room with you when you eat them.
Me: I do? Sorry. You know, the DJ in the morning knew he had to divorce when his wife said the same thing to him. She even resented the way he breathed.
Tracy: I don't want a divorce, which is why I left the room.
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BYU won. They'll be playing next weekend.

My Rant About The DMV

Ok. It isn't a rant. Not really anything close. While I can't say it was a pleasant experience, it wasn't a bad one. I don't recall ever having a negative experience there. Much of the time, I enjoy sitting watching people do things so the DMV lets me see a group of people sharing a cultural situation together, not unlike my joy of watching people at a high school football game.

On of the endearing qualities of being me is that I'm always trying to figure things out. I remember my mission companion in Switzerland getting annoyed at my constant watching the trains come and go out of the train station. While I do have a pleasure in looking at infrastructure, much of that staring had to do with my figuring out the circuits established by the locomotives through the overhead lines. I do that kind of thing a lot.

So I was at the DMV. I picked up my number at a desk and sat down. The ticket said H258. That was an odd number. As I sat and watched the workers come in for the morning, I tried to work out if there was a situation where certain agents did certain things. You know, this one spoke spanish and armenian, this one handled motorcycle renewals...that kind of thing. I didn't see much rhyme or reason so I just decided to sit there and watch. Some people were late for their numbers and didn't get to their agent so they had to wait again. Others were coming in for their driving test or their first licence...

Which reminds me. About the only thing truly interesting that happened to me in a DMV was when I lived in Arizona and needed to get a license. A young man went up to the counter and next thing I know, yelling ensued. I don't know what the laws were but something about marking the license so he could buy liquor or something like that. He wasn't 21 so the agent said he can't do anything about it so he'll have to wait. He didn't like that answer and stormed out yelling about how he'd still get his booze regardless.

Anyway, while I was sitting there, I mused about that odd number. I followed the way the numbers were called out and looking for a pattern. I did discern one and I eventually got it. The numbers were somewhat random and knowing a bit of human psychology, I think I realized the genius behind the number selection. Have the numbers random or at least seemingly random enough so that a casual observer wouldn't see the pattern. Having it like that means that the people waiting would have to be somewhat alert. No trips to the bathroom in anticipation for a long wait. No snoozing lest you miss your slot. Also, it wouldn't allow the user to become annoyed by having to wait 30 people back. They'd have no idea how long they had to wait. I almost wanted to verbalize "That's freaking genius!" when I figured out the reasoning behind it. It used our own psychology against us, not unlike what Disney does to use while waiting for the rides. Yep, the DMV is manipulating us too, probably to avoid riots.

Still, I highly recommend a mid-week, early morning visit if you must go. It is a lot less crowded.

BTW, this visit also elicited a dream which I posted on Facebook on November 16.

I had a dream last night that I took a woman on a date...to the DMV. 
I never realized what a failure of a human being I am.

My Biggest Fear

A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life.
Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.

~~~~~~~

I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.

After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.

She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.

Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.

The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.

The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.

Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.

I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.

~unknown

Without Tracy

Tracy and I take separate vacations.

I don't know if I ever mentioned that before. It started when we adopted children. It was mostly an economic thing at the time. Adopting children is expensive and like many married couples, we have different interests. While Tracy wouldn't mind spending time at a Disney park every other year, my interest tend to be wilderness filled with granite mountains and lava. Kids on vacations can be time-consuming and taxing and both of us can be quite driven when we are out and about. Tracy builds schedules and lists that are hard to meet with kids in tow. I am a hard-driving, ADD-addled tourist that stops unexpectedly. My main activities are "I want to touch that rock" "I want to climb that" "I want to sit here for 10 hours and watch that crab walk across the beach". There is no motive to my travels other than see and do things I haven't done before.

It's Tracy's turn this time. She's out of town visiting family where she can feel free from the burdens of motherhood, and those are many, and doesn't have to have her guard up when she decides to tell them what a jerk I am. I get it. We sometimes need time away. I did earlier this year when I visited Oregon. My love of the West this time made me rethink much of my life. I'm sure my wife is getting tired of my epiphanies. Well, I don't think she'll be getting any epiphanies out in the stinking desert, but I'll give her that opportunity.

It is times like these when I realize.., well, not really. I'm always very aware and very appreciative of all that Tracy does. She runs this home. She pays the bills, makes the food, does most of the parenting. I know exactly how much she does. I do sometimes think about what I would have to do if she died, left me or decided I wasn't worth the trouble anymore. Would I be able to operate and run this house? I know that the kids adjust to my parenting style fairly well. I do things quite a bit different than the way she does. It really only comes out when she's gone for more than a few days. Otherwise, I mostly defer to her style.

I do the dishes regularly. The floors get swept. Homework is finished. Just this morning the garage was cleaned and swept, the bikes were put away for the winter and I did a workout at the gym. Not bad for finishing at 10:30 am. I think that is what drives the kids crazy the most. I'm a morning person. It also helps that the kids are getting older and don't complain about everything like they used to. About the only thing I got a complaint about from the three oldest was Ellie wanting to go on a road-trip with me. I might have to consider that. Bennet has a temper and if you look at him just the wrong way, he goes into a tantrum. I'm learning how to work with that.

There was a time a few years ago where I thought Tracy and I would have to separate. I felt I was being so disruptive to her and the family that I would have to exit, at least for some time, for us to get our stuff sorted out. I didn't know what I would do at that point. I did contemplate life without her. I wanted her to be happy and if I was blocking that, then I had to move aside if that is what was required. The thing is, separation and parenting requires rational adults. We had to play nice. If that is what was needed then, why couldn't it happen now? Separation would just compound the difficulties.

Things worked out. We both had to adjust to being married to different people than we started out with. We became much more verbal with each other, instead of just letting the unspoken similarities and familiarities between us rule the day. Some things were hard for each other to hear but we said them.

But we still take separate vacations. It isn't that we are having problems now. We have taken family vacations and some were epic. We did go to Hawaii for our 25th anniversary but it also required effort from family and friends in order for us to be away with each other. We got along pretty well. We still are the best of friends and want the other to be happy. For now though, until the kids start their own lives, I see separate vacations as being the norm. Our adventures were mighty and strong before the kids and will be after them.

As for you empty nester friends of ours, why the heck aren't you out having the times of your lives? Lord knows I would.

Crazy Ex Girlfriend

I think I have a new favorite show.

I don't say this lightly. I like a lot of TV. I'm particularly drawn to The CW lately which caters to a younger audience. I'm not sure if that means I'm young at heart or immature in my preferences. I have The Flash (where the protagonist is named Barry so what's not to like), iZombie that I simply adore, as well as binging on older shows I catch on Netflix.

This show isn't for everyone. It has singing and a humor that is subtle. I really like the lead. She's gorgeous, smart and witty and while that can draw you in, and even sympathize with her on a lot of levels, she does things that send alarm bells ringing all over. In one plot point she starts feeling attraction to a man that took her to a carnival and to overcome her feeling trapped by that feeling, leaves him standing there and sleeps with a carnie. The man that took her out can't understand just what is wrong with this girl but he still is fascinated with her.

The lead, Rachael Bloom, isn't quite as overtly crazy as Liana Morris of Overly Attached Girlfriend fame but she does have a history of portraying obsessive love as demonstrated in her earlier Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury video.

I won't go into the psychology of the situation and my own latent fears of appearing to be the crazy ex-boyfriend to my past significant others. I have my own issues with appearing to be stalkerish when I really just like to talk and be social. You know, social media, I figure if they didn't want me to look at their 6 year old photo albums and post a random like, they wouldn't keep them there, amiright? I also try not to tag their photos with my name, but sometimes mistakes happen.

It's a good show. Not for kids as there are plenty of references to body parts and functions as well as the whole psycho thing. Still. it is good for some of your remaining time on the earth. At least that is my opinion. Your mileage may vary.

It Will Have an End

Well, maybe not "THE" truth, but the truth as I see it now.

I never intended to be an activist. I don't intend to now. I merely have opinions, and I'm getting rather sick of it.

My church, or maybe it should be called "The Church I Attended" (TCIA) made an announcement about its positions on homosexuals. I'm not really all that interested in that. I am interested in the stance it takes against their children. I think it is deplorable. I'll leave it to the reader to do some research and see why I might take that stance.

No, I want to talk about the divide it creates and thoughts that I have on the side. Some of these thoughts aren't that charitable and don't make me look very good. I think these show my own humanity. I don't really want to be vocal about my disagreement of TCIA and its policies. However, I have been fascinated with the process of my own life and why I made the decisions of my journey through it. I think I have a lot of that figured out. The past year has helped me make peace with most of who I am and what I have done to arrive where I am.

I have always been interested in church history. I found the early TCIA church history filled with fascinating things and new ideas. Some were great and uplifting. Others were completely disturbing, but I had made my decision so those conflicts were pushed off to the side. Considering that TCIA was consistently pointing to its own history for guildance, I felt safe studying it. It eventually lead to early Christian history which gave me an interest in patristics. That led to apologetics through some well-placed internet links, which led to other items in TCIA history. Some of that I was told not to read from TCIA, but I did. The first was the Nauvoo Expositor. That is the printing press that Joseph Smith destroyed and led eventually to his violent death. Why? I read it. It had the truth in it. The things that it accused Joseph of doing, he was doing. So, he didn't want it known. That is why he took offense and had the press destroyed.

I let that sit for a bit. Like years.

So, long story short, my conscience just couldn't take it anymore. I was sick of the lies and obfuscation from the institution that I had dedicated most of my life towards. That led to a lot of other problems personally. I've weathered them. My family has too.

In the interim, I have seen TCIA publish essays that disavowed its past leaders, its own scripture, and in some regards, the foundational teachings of Judaism and Christianity. It is quite entertaining, and that is the problem. I don't want it to be. There are people behind this. I've seen friends defend what I once defended. I don't  want to consider them as lacking empathy, but I also realise that I was there once. I thought those same things. On my mission, where my own sanity and well-being was being carved away, I had those thoughts, that TCIA could not do wrong; that I was to blame for my problems, not the church. That others that I gave my moral authority to knew better than I did. I was there. I was fully onboard.

Now I look at it and I know how harmful that was to me. All the rebuilding my wife and I had to do emotionally to claim our lives back and now I was looking at friends and seeing such a lack of empathy and disregard to others on this life's journey.

*sigh*.

At times I wish I didn't have opinions. I know that I've changed a great deal. I don't want to be that person who forgets what it is like to be a believer, and now look at them with the same disdain that I once viewed atheists. I can be better. I can be better than I was, than I am, being more moral, more empathetic.

I won't have the hubris that others I know have, that I have outgrown TCIA. I think lessons can be learned wherever in life a person exists. I have decided to try the wider waters than I used to sail. I know my reality isn't others'. I want to fully understand "He who is without sin, cast the first stone." and the message behind it (Even though Christ probably didn't say it.) I want to find truth, even if it is only my own.

Forgive me of my faults. I will forgive you for yours. Ultimately, I don't have any other choice. I don't want to walk this earth bitter to my own past and future while honoring only the present. At some point we may all meet our maker and I hope She isn't in a ticked-off mood. Maybe we'll only fall asleep never to know anything ever again. Either way, I want to live my life as I see it and I want you to live yours.

Are Men Threatened by Women?

I take as my text for this morning's sermon, a quote.

“Why do men feel threatened by women?” I asked a male friend of mine. […] “I mean,” I said, “men are bigger, most of the time, they can run faster, strangle better, and they have on the average a lot more money and power.”
“They’re afraid women will laugh at them,” he said. “Undercut their world view.”

Then I asked some women students in a quickie poetry seminar I was giving, “Why do women feel threatened by men?”

“They’re afraid of being killed,” they said.

~ Margaret Atwood, Writing the Male Character

I had posted this on my Facebook wall and I suggested that I could write more about this. I don't know if it was wanted or if someone might want to just have more quotes. I don't have a lot of other quotes like this as I tend towards depressive romantic quotes and poems, not insightful things. Plus, I project a lot of these things onto me and wonder how bad of a person I have been in my life. Really, there's only so much introspection I can do and still be a functional human being.

I did want to address this though, even if it is from my perspective only. I guess if you weren't interested then you wouldn't be reading this. Ok. that aside, here it is.

I don't have that much of an ego. I'm aware of how badly I have acted at times of my life. My own stupidity is constantly getting in my way. I know I'm rather intelligent when it comes to particular aspects of technology but I know I'm nowhere near the smartest. My wife capably runs our home and does the most of the parenting. I consult her for any and all decisions that affect both of us. I'm rarely a unilateral person. I hope people don't consider that as a lack of confidence. I view it as respect for the other soul that travels this life with me. At those times when I did act unilaterally, it didn't end well and provides a life lesson that I'm not alone and can't just do what I want in things that concern us both. Because of this, I have a hard time with the idea of a woman laughing at me and undercutting my world view.

Now whatever my enlightenment in this particular aspect, that doesn't mean I would be impervious to ridicule. There are certain things that would be deal breakers, as I hope would be deal breakers with the women I know. I'm more than open to a woman calling me an idiot, especially if I do something idiotic. However, if I was called an idiot by a woman that I was in a relationship with and she MEANT it, then there is a problem. I wouldn't be open to demeaning conversation. I wouldn't tolerated that as I hope no woman would tolerate that either.

I don't know if I would have a problem with my wife earning more than me. It hasn't happened yet but I can't envision that being some sort of imasculating event. I will soon express my opinion in another post about women that are smarter than me, but I don't consider that an unreachable feat. I've had several women that were my supervisors at work and I can't say that I acted or felt any different about them. I think I view men and women as humans more than any other category. I would think that I'm a pretty mellow guy when it comes to my world-view. My wife might think differently and you'd have to ask her for any contradictory opinions. She might have a completely different view of me than I have of myself.

Do I know of men where undercutting their worldview would upset them? Yeah, but to tell you the truth, I'm not that intimately aware of other men's worldview to say that too definitively. I don't have too many male friends and those that I do I'm only taking on the deeper issues of personality with a few of them. I wish men were more comfortable talking about this aspect of their lives. Maybe that is an aspect of the topic at hand. Men don't share those deeper aspects because they don't want to open themselves up to that kind of inspection by their peers.

<later> After a few days of reflection, I realized that most of my world-view changes happened directly because of women. I remember going on a date and tooling around the woods in our truck and the road was very rough. The girl I was with was smiling and laughing all the way through it. I remember glancing at her and catching her smile. Right then I knew that is what I wanted to do the rest of my life, do whatever I could to make the woman I was with smile. I'm not saying I was successful, but that definitely changed my world. Women I dated after that refined my goals, made them deaper, but it was all part of that life-changing realization of what was important to me.

While attempting to create a good life and be a good person as I it was defined to me, I spent time and mental effort to be a good religious person. It wasn't without its struggles. When someone I trusted and respected let me know that she had stopped going to church, it put my own life in a tailspin. I could no longer rationalize certain goals with the knowledge that I had acquired over the years  The house of cards that I had built with my belief started falling around me. Did she do this purposefully? No. She had no idea how that would affect me. It just put other things into focus and it became a life changing event.

I also would be remiss if I don't mention a woman I knew from high school. We didn't talk much in school, if at all but we became more talkative via Facebook. As we became for comfortable with each other, she helped me talk through the tsunami of personal issues I had at the time; she became my sanity check. I treasured her advice and friendship.

When I rehearsed some of this to my wife, she let me know that she appreciated the effort I put into understanding her positions, that I visibly considered what she tells me. Indeed, sometimes it changed some very key narratives in my life and made me rewrite what I thought had happened into something new with the new information.

Perhaps I am odd in this regard. Women have changed my life many, many times. Perhaps I just have surrounded myself with considerate, intelligent women who are honest with me instead of those with a demeaning soul. I do consider myself blessed by the women I have known and shared a bit of our lives together.

I don't know what to say about the situation with women being threatened by men. I know I'm very aware of my position as a male and that women have no idea about my intentions when I talk to them. I've come to know many women that I've met on the web or reconnected from other times in my life. I do have a tendency to talk about things that most men don't. I didn't want to be seen as a stalker or some other mal-adjusted individual. I try to behave myself. I recognize that women can take their lives in their hands by opening themselves up to any man.

Sorry for the meandering writing. I wrote this over several weeks and ideas that I thought would gel, didn't. You read this for free. You got what you paid for.

Why Did You Get Married?

This thought has been on my mind quite a bit recently. I can probably answer it in many different ways, at different times of my life.

As a teenager, I wanted someone to talk to. I wanted romance and honesty and acceptance. I can't say I put that into action. When I did start dating, I was clumsy and didn't even know how to initiate romance. I was horrible at it. I felt that a woman wanted sweeping jestures. Instead, I didn't even know how to do the small things right. I felt that it should come naturally, and for some things, it did. Still, I didn't do anything too well. I'm sure every introvert out there could say the same.

Hmmm. Even the struggle for acceptance when the words "I love you." finally slipped out of my lips for the first time.

After my mission, I wanted to have fun more than anything else, after that miserable experience. I wanted someone with a sense of humor and interesting stories to tell. I didn't get that with my first more serious girlfriends after my mission. I wanted someone that could break me out of my introverted shell, push me to my limits, let me grab life by the throat. I wanted adventure. I wanted broken boundaries. I wanted to feel a freedom of thought that I hadn't experienced with some of my other girlfriends I have had. It wasn't that they hindered anything, but that I hadn't found the way to express anything.

I started dating a few girls quite seriously. They enjoyed my presence. That was new to me. I was more given to the chase, and these women didn't make me feel that I had to work hard, to guess what was wanted. They were enjoyable to be around. One clearly liked me but the one I was very interested in seemed to be more distant. As time went on and I had to evaluate my options. I would love to be in an exclusive relationship with either of these women, but I got tired of guessing with one of them, so I stopped dating her. My only reservation was the one I was leaving had a very interesting life and I was sad that I wasn't to find out more, but I wanted someone that wanted to be with me, demonstrably so. The girl I chose to focus on was from the midwest, Ohio to be more exact. I really wanted to stay away from the midwest, and that wasn't a plus, but she liked me, and I liked her.

Then I got a call. "I have cookies." I have since found out that it is almost cliche for a girl to do that. Still, it was a change; a drastic change from the girl I had tried to get close to unsuccessfully, the one with the interesting stories. I no longer wanted ambiguity in my dating. I wanted clarity.

She took me to Disneyland. I'd never been to Disneyland. Or California. When we went to her hometown, I saw scenery that astounded and amazed me. In her hometown, we stopped by a lava flow. A lava flow in the middle of town! Volcanoes were here! My God! This was so different from the sand and pine trees that I thought was my lot in life.

I wanted adventure. I still do.

I don't know what anyone else wanted out of marriage, but I think after much thought, that is what I wanted. Getting married to the person that was likely to provide it is a good reason, isn't it?

RaNt (Part 4.11 §10 ¶ 3 of the Trilogy of Fear) General Conference and Mission Health

I'm going to talk about religion. If you don't want to read it, leave now.

In preparation of the first part of this essay, I want to preface this with a small setup. Much of my life I spent time consciously “dismissing” things that didn’t fit in with the way my life was headed or things that disagreed with my feelings on how life should be lived. I dismissed friends that felt differently about religion or sex or politics. I built a self-imposed echo chamber around my life because to actually listen, to have sympathy or understanding, might create a conflict.

In the past few years I’ve realized that some of my life has fallen out of the narrative that I felt I was expected to live. I became open to listening to other’s experiences and feelings and opinions. I began to understand them on their own terms and found so many wonderful new friends and new ways of looking at life.

This following video explores someone whom I would have dismissed in a different part of my life. She didn’t fit in how I felt a woman should feel. She was “other”. Now, I can understand where she is coming from, even if I don’t fully empathize. But this is her opinion and she has strong feelings about it and I completely respect that. She yearns for a divine feminine. She wants to be understood on her own level, as a woman, in a male dominated religion. My word, how wonderful, and angering, I find her words. This woman deserves to be heard, to be understood and to be respected.

This woman, like all others, matters.

For the rest of this rant, see this story on Missionary Health.

I'm going to go once more to the well of my mission. I'm going to be honest about it. If you don't want to hear what I feel, then why are you reading this? Anyway, here it goes.

I went on my mission for the best of intentions. I was thankful to God for what He did for me. I had a bad relationship with my parents for a time and going to church helped me repair that. I thuroughly enjoyed going to a church school as I could focus on my education the way I thought I should. I found some great friends, dating a beautiful woman and I just wanted to be the best person I could be, The people in my life deserved the best I could be and this was how I was told I could accomplish that.

I had a terrible time. Depression gripped me like grim death. I hated what I was expected to do as faith and religion were intensely personal to me. All I could foresee was not helping my fellow man but selling God, opening up parts of me that I didn't want to open for ridicule. Instead of the acceptance I craved, I was throwing myself into a pool of rejection. Guilt and shame kept piling up on me. Unlike the article, I did see someone about the depression. I can't remember much about the meeting but hysterical crying. I was a mess. I was told that it was suggested that I do not leave on my mission. With that, I want to refer to my first quote of the article.

Missionaries who do get sick may be reluctant to report any serious problem to an authority figure, in part because they fear getting sent home early, according to most Mormons I spoke to. Every former missionary I spoke with told me that those who leave a mission prematurely are ostracized and stigmatized. They struggle to find a spouse willing to marry them or friends willing to be seen with them. Friends and family presume you weren’t righteous enough to serve—or you just couldn’t hack it. Even missionaries who return home due to serious medical conditions such as cancer are suspect. As one former missionary told me, “You’ll do almost anything to avoid being sent home early.”

This. This kept me on my mission. If I went home, I would come home to NOTHING. My girlfriend would certainly leave me. My friends would leave. I would have to go to another school because BYU wouldn't accept me back (I had a bad last semester and was counting on Returned Missionary or RM status to return.) I still believed in the church, but I knew what my life would be like. I stayed. My depression began to consume me. I was losing weight and losing sleep and I began to hate the life I enjoyed just a few months earlier.

I was called to Switzerland. A more beautiful place on the earth you will never find. I was broke, starving and hoping that some money would come my way. I lost more weight and felt so far removed from the things I wanted to be grateful for. Eventually, I had lost enough weight and was so devastated that I was sent stateside in hopes money and a bit of positivity would come my way.

I still lost weight. I was still depressed. I wasn't suicidal, but I wanted to disappear. I wanted it all to go away.

So, I stayed out. I think I was about 50 or so pounds lighter when I returned home ( I had lost 40 before coming back stateside). The knowledge that I was happy once was what had kept me going, that I was going to come home, meet again my wonderful friends and date and get to know new wonderful people who wanted to be around me. Leaving was the only thing that kept me going, and the irony is not lost on me. I still believed, but my mission time was the darkest part of my life and I hated the idea that it would define me. I never mentioned it but a sentence at a time. Indeed, this next quote summed it up for me.

I found Mike, along with many of the former missionaries I interviewed for this story, through Sick RMs, a website that gathers the stories of ill and injured missionaries. (RMs are returned missionaries.) “I am now 48 years old,” Mike told me, “and I still have recurring nightmares about being ‘called’ back on a new mission. These nightmares are draining, feverish events that leave me cold, yet sweaty, at the same time. My mission is my deepest regret.”

I still feel I lost most of what was me during my mission. It is only now, as I approach my 50's, that I have a feeling that I am returning. That is why I'm as verbose on this as I am. I need to be honest about my life so that my friends and those around me can understand. I'm tired of being quiet about it. I want to be known.

I am thankful for those friends who have stayed by me. I no longer believe in the church and I try not to be overbearing on the matter. I realize that others had very different experiences on their mission and with the church. This was mine. I don't think anyone I know dismissed it. I know my wonderful wife hasn't. She's had to put up with a lot of things lately as I try to sort out all the things I had hidden down the rabbit hole. I can't tell her how much I appreciate all the time we sit talking about things. I think both of us have come out better for all of this.

You Oughta Know My Fight Song

Many years ago Alanis Morriset released a song called "You Oughta Know" and I liked that song. It was once panned on a radio station that I listened to as "The Psycho Bitch Song". I chuckled at the time as it being something clever, but I have long since rethought that position.

The song is reportedly about Alanis' affair with David Coulier of Full House fame. Not having been in an affair or really knowing the mechanics of that kind of relationship, there is a lot of information in the song that I can't empathize with. However, this is a song of a woman wronged. Those are genuine emotions being described. She has been used and discarded. She has every right to complain about the lack of respect and care that she has been handed. I've tried most of my life to be respectful of the women in my life, most of the time being completely amazed by them, but there have been selfish times where I didn't act properly, said things I shouldn't have. I can't imagine doing it on this level.

Recently another song has come out by another woman titled "Fight Song". Another song of empowerment (without a man in the picture at all, which is great). I have spent a good deal talking and writing to women who have come out of a patriarchal organization and I'm still fascinated by how incredible the transformation of these women are reclaiming their lives. It has given me a lot to think about and how I don't want my daughter to be in a position to have her life and goals in any way lessened by anyone or anything.

Huh. You know, I had a stalker in college. I called her that most of my time since. I've since learned how unfair that was. I know by my own experience how powerful expectations and failed results, for that matter, can work on a person and push them a bit over the edge. Yeah, I was a good date and I had that magic "Returned Missionary" label. I felt my mission was a failure because of my depression and my inability to sell God with any success. As I was pushed towards a mission most of my teen years, she was pushed to marriage and only to an RM. If you want to get to heaven, you need to do that. God, what a thing to live with. So here I was a guy right off the mission who had a good year previous to think about how to date and be someone that a woman wanted to be around. She hadn't dated much at all and I was more than willing to listen to her. We could vent our frustrations to each other. She saw me as the one. I'm sure she felt levels of panic when I went out with someone else.

It didn't end well. She threatened someone else I was seeing, not even dating really. I understand what it is like to see expectations fall around you and being impotent to do anything about it. Why it took me years to realize it, I am truly sorry. It doesn't excuse the threats, but I now understand it. I hope she found a way to be happy. I hope she realized her potential, and that her life and happiness isn't tied around the expectations of a man or of an institution that tells her how to live her life.

I hope that my daughter finds her own fight song, and doesn't put up with any male dominated crap. I want to to be happy with who she is and make the decisions for her own life, for her own happiness. I want her to be strong. I want all the women in my life to be strong. It is so much more interesting that way.

You Oughta Know
Fight Song

Do Not Remember Me as a Keeper of Secrets

For my last road trip of the season, I decided to take a slightly familiar road. I have long since run out of unique ways to reach the Mississippi River from my home. The default road has been and always will be familiar at this point. I can feel the complacency of Autumn slide up next to me and my yearning for difference starting to wane. I guess that is to be expected, but I still resent it.

I start my ride south and west along a now memorized road. I stop and take some photos of the remnants of the passage of a tornado earlier in the year; the restaurant that stood here now a memory. I curse my memory for not remembering to bring earplugs to quiet the roar of air in my ears. I stopped at a hardware store to pick up some.

Farther south I stop on the interstate bridge and take a picture of the canal underneath. That was the canal I biked earlier this year, putting an end to a 5-year desire to traverse its length. I go by the ditch I fell into the year previous on my trip along the length of the Illinois River, the source of a well read blog post of mine. I quickly turn onto a road that travels through Bradford. It holds some unique memories. On one of the family's trips to Nauvoo, we stopped to let Hayden play in a playground there. For some reason, it has burned itself into my memory and I feel compelled to visit it on occasion. This road is also unique in that it sports one of the few tree-covered stretches of road in Illinois. It also holds some unique abandoned buildings and some amusingly named rivers. I pass the church where the police have a speed trap and I continue my journey towards Nauvoo. I stop briefly at a road along the bluff where Hayden and I coasted down to the valley, hitting 70 mph from a stop at the top of the bluff.

I go to Nauvoo with some bittersweet memories. Tracy and I have tried to spend at least some time there every year of our time in Illinois. We had anniversaries and camping trips with the kids. I watched the Temple site go from a hole in the ground to a new temple. I spent a few weekends as a tour guide during the open house and Tracy and I had the opportunity to go through as Patrons once. That becomes hard to do once you have young children. Mostly we came to camp at the state park there once we became parents. When I arrived, I made my obligatory trip through the state park as it had changed slightly from earlier trips. I pulled the bike into the parking structure and changed into my street shoes. I took a trip around the temple, taking pictures along the way. I then headed up the street for my real goal, my present to myself, ice cream from Grandpa John's. I know I've eaten here before but I can't recall ever eating ice cream. I ordered a raspberry shake and vowed to send a photo to George in our continuing saga of shake pics. Don't ask. Another persistent memory I have of Nauvoo is when I traveled here once with my parents and my dad ordered a beer, Coors, from a restaurant that no longer is in town. He was told that he was on the wrong side of the river for that as Coors is only found on the West side of the Mississippi. Even in a town on the river, I felt the other side was still prohibitively far away. Funny how some things stick with you.

As I sit on a bench eating my shake, a treat that is getting rare in my post-diabetes life, I contemplate my last camping trip here. I was in the middle of one of the most challenging times of my life. My faith was slipping away because of the studies I made of church history. I had determined that it wasn't intellectually honest of me to avoid all the negative histories of my faith. These were histories written by faithful members but I discounted them because they didn't fit the way I wanted to view the church. I had known some of this for a very long time, but I never let the implications sink in. I didn't let the truth of it all to register because of what I used the church for. I had known that Joseph Smith was polygamous. I had known that he lied to Emma and the Church about it. I had read a decade earlier the text of The Nauvoo Expositor, the paper that Joseph destroyed and eventually led to his death, and found no untruth in it. Still, I didn't let it register. Only recently did I study about his coersion of families and women as young as 14 to marry him. If you were a female and served as a nanny or foster-daughter in his home, there was a good chance a sexual relationship would occur. I couldn't help but read Section 132 and its treatment of women as reward as something more and more foreign and unwilling to accept. I knew that if what was documented by faithful members at the time was happening to me, I would have Joseph arrested. It was an inescapable conclusion for me.

I had read about the origin of the temple and Joseph's connection to Masonry. I had read about the origin of the endowment and it's connection to Blue Lodge Masonry. Much I had already known but it didn't fit what I needed, what I had desired from the church, so it didn't register. Even now, the subtle untruths of the reconstructed city of Nauvoo grated on me. The avoidance of calling some of the buildings after their purpose irritated me. The Seventies Hall was a Masonic Temple. Joseph had tried unsuccessfully to get a master lodge in Nauvoo and so the endowment was established in the church's temple.

The unjust persecution of the church became something a bit more understandable. There was disenfrachisement of the native population and having a militia in Nauvoo as large as the standing army of the entire US was something that would worry me too. No, it wouldn't incite me to be a mob member but I also understand human nature a bit more than I used to.

I remember on that trip looking over to Tracy at some point and saying "Do you know all that went on here?" I don't recall a response, but it became so difficult for me to be there, I didn't forsee many trips to this place in the future.

So we weathered the storm that was our marriage for a year or so. We are now at a better place and I can believe in the person I've become. I'm sitting outside the temple completely comfortable with that arrangement. I'm saying goodbye. I don't know if I'll be by this way again. I don't need to be by here again. Aside from memories, this place has no hold on me any longer. I grieve a bit. This place loomed large in my life for some time. Now, it is a place on my travels through life.

After a short stop in Ft. Madison where I enjoy some quiet time by the river and watch trains crossing the bridge, I head home again. Life goes on, and so must I.

*Title of this post is taken from an adaptation from a line of the poem Movement Song by Audre Lorde, for no reason in particular.

Things Change

I had lunch with a friend of mine yesterday. I always enjoy my time with him and I really enjoyed the times we've worked together. We have lunch occasionally to catch up. It isn't a particularly deep conversation that we have, but it is interesting. We talked about work and what we are doing now. There are a lot of things happening at Motorola so I fill him in on what some of them are. We get to our personal lives a bit later.

"I went to Oregon this last Spring. I had an epiphany."
"Another one?"
"Ha. Yeah. Seems like I have a lot of those. Kind of. You know those times when you look inside yourself and try to figure it out."
"So you're having a midlife crisis?"
Holding up my motorcycle jacket, "Did you see what I rode in on? Of course I'm having a mid-life crisis. But I don't like to call it that. I like to think of it as taking an introspective look at your life and making course corrections."
"But you had plans. We've talked about them. What about Utah? What about Michigan?"
"Things change."

I think that if anything that has impressed me more in the past few years is that things indeed do change. I've lived much of my life wanting to live the life others expected of me. I wanted stability, confidence that life wouldn't throw me something that I wasn't expecting. I gathered stuff around me to give me the illusion that things wouldn't change.

Then, things changed. My life was thrown into a type of turmoil. I found an institution that I valued more than my life had been less than truthful. I realized how much harm it had done to me. After floundering around and long talks with my wife, I figured I had a new normal. I don't view security the same way. My kids will grow and leave me. That isn't something that I'm sad about. It is the way it is. I looked at my home. Granted, it isn't all that pretty, but it was "mine". Paid for many years back. Filled with things. I realized that I could lose it all and it wouldn't bother me all that much. It was only stuff.

I thought about the things and times that made me the most happy. College. I loved college. While I might not be able to relive my youth, I love learning. And I had nothing then. I talked with Tracy about the years after our marriage and how poor we were. Yet, we were happy then. Every weekend we packed up the car and took off to some god-forsaken rock garden somewhere in The West and camped. We had adventures. Even when we were struggling in Phoenix after graduating, we were happy. We had a little apartment that we could barely furnish. We had tennis raquets and a car. That was enough. When we finally bought a computer, it sat on the floor for want of a table. We could pack up and go anywhere easily because we didn't have enough to worry about.

I now find solace in typing my random thoughts. I can't seem to read a book as my ADD has taken over my brain. I take bike and motorcycle rides and cherish the times I get away from the security I thought I wanted so much.

So here we are. We are trying to shed ourselves of some of our stuff. We have a plan to start reliving our adventures. I have a bucket list of things to do -- elsewhere. I have a different sense of purpose. These things probably should be done when we are empty nesters, but since we started late on our family, our kids have a front seat view to my, our, morphing life. I don't think they mind too much.

Things change. They sure do.

RaNt (Part 7.12.1a of the Trilogy of Fear) by Ranty McRanterson

No Way Out
or
Facebook Link

I want to give a very measured response to this because this post hit home. In many ways, it mirrors what I have and am going through. What really distresses me is the response by the women on this subject. It is incredible.

It has taken me a long time to be honest about what I think and what I feel with those that mean the most to me. You know something? Honesty isn't all rainbows and unicorns. Sometimes it is "I don't want to be here." "I want to change, I want A change." "I feel trapped." Those are honest sentiments. Those are things that need adulthood to discuss properly. Because, you know, I've said worse. I've thought much worse. There are times when quiet desperation or even impotent rage is part of my psyche and I have to work with it, weed it out, discuss it.

I want to say a lot of things. I have a lot of things unspoken in my life. My regrets are legion. I wish I wasn't such a coward when I first started dating seriously all the way through marriage. I wish I gave expression to my fears and my struggles. I wished I had the guts to ask "How do I show you that I care?" "I really want to say something and I'm scared to death to say it." "I need to talk about something and I can't find the words. Will you be patient with me as I try to express it?" But I didn't say it. I was afraid. I was afraid all my life to say what I felt. I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be thought of poorly. I was afraid of rejection.

So here I am. I'm going to give a little bit of honesty. I'm going to tell you what I think, and probably many men feel the same way.

“I feel trapped.”

“By what?” I asked.

“By … my life,” he said.

I tried to reason with him: “The life you're living right now is the one you CHOSE.”

“But, it’s all just such a heavy responsibility.”

You know what? I've had that conversation. I have that conversation often. You know why? I feel that way. I feel trapped. I'm a father. We adopted three children and had one ourselves (my wife did the vast majority of the work, I realize.) We did choose that. And I feel trapped. I have 5 people that depend on me for financial support as well as emotional support. I can't just change something. I can't get up one morning and say "Screw it, I'm gonna go hiking in Hawaii." I have the money. I just can't do that. It isn't all my money. My kids need braces. They need clothes and shelter and a father that loves and cares for them. My wife needs all those things too, as well as support and my presence. She deserves every single moment of my time when I'm at home. I also have to make sure I keep my job, that I stay relevant to my employer. I walk a line to make sure I get the people in my life the things they need to survive, if not thrive. I FEEL that. And I feel trapped. I can't go to Hawaii. I have to work. I can't move to Eugene and work at Walmart and live out my fantasy life of a professional wind boarder. I have human beings to take care of.

I feel trapped. My wife feels trapped. We are slaves to our responsibilities. Yes, we chose this. Yes, it is perfectly freaking normal to feel trapped! If a woman also doesn't feel this at times in her life, she's lying to herself.

Suddenly, my husband began throwing her things around violently. “I never counted on us having a child,” he spat out under his breath.

Let me talk about children. The decision to have them, and in our case, adopt wasn't a simple decision. Tracy and I spoke long and hard about it. We discussed finances, emotional and all the other things we could think of at the time. I wanted to leave this world doing a little bit of good. Well, parenting is hard. You make certain decisions and allowances and sometimes you don't fully grasp the multi-decade commitment that you are making. You accept it intellectually, but the reality is daunting. And then came Bennet. Mind you, I love Bennet. But let's take a look at my life a bit. He'll turn 18 when I'm 62. Let that sink in. 62. I'm hitting retirement age right about then. That is on my mind. That doesn't mean I'll abandon anyone, but that hits home for me. That is something that I need to talk through. It is something that I need to grasp, even now. Do I regret having him? No. I love him. Do I realize what affect it will have on my life? Yes. And perhaps there are a few of my wants and dreams that I need to mourn. We many times hear that parenting is a sacrifice. It is. Let's just be honest about it and stop punishing the thoughts of what that sacrifice entails.

He said how dissatisfied he is with his life—how he feels despondent because there's no way out. He talked about what his options would be if he weren’t married, with a young child. How he could retire early and travel the world and enjoy a carefree life. He described our daughter and me as burdens, chains around his ankles keeping him from the life he feels he was meant to live. The life he envisioned for himself years ago. He didn't look at me as he spoke.

Here's a thought. Listen to him. Seriously listen and stop thinking about how this affects you. He's talking about himself now. That might be completely out of character. If he's verbalizing it to this degree, he's thought about it for some time. It is human nature to put up defenses and think of yourself. I've had similar talks with my wife because I felt comfortable enough to express it. Yes, it took time for us to get to that point. She's had to deal with me with near desperation in my voice. I've had to pull off the side of the road to cry about my life and how dissatisfied I am with it. Here's what I needed to hear.

"Let's talk about this. What exactly do you have a problem with?"
"Everything. Mostly, I don't want to be here. I hate being here."
"What about it bothers you?"
"I'm not doing what I enjoy. What I want to do costs money. I don't feel free to do that."
"Like what?"
"I want a bike. A good one. I want a motorcycle. I so loved riding them when I was growing up."
"Ok, we can do that. What else?"
"I love my job, but I hate being here. I want mountains. I want to climb, hike, I want to feel awe and love and fascination with the world."
"What can we do about that?"
.
.
.
Of course I summarized this heavily. This took place over years. It didn't involve just things and places. It involved religion, sex, romance, stuff. dreams, expectations. We had to learn how to talk about the deepest desires we had. Our expectations of each other changed because of it. We weathered it out and can talk about things that I never thought we would ever discuss. Yes, it helps having a marriage counselor as a spouse, but if you don't have one, you can hire one. I would suggest putting in the time and effort to do this yourselves first though. That isn't to say it ever will be unicorns and rainbows, but you will at least be able to say you were honest. If the marriage doesn't work, it doesn't work, but don't penalize the poor guy for expressing what he feels. Try to understand it. Work through it. It might turn out all right.

People are Allowed

Over the past couple of years I’ve seen many old and new friends undergo some profound changes in their lives, including myself. I’ve seen relationships grow stronger, weaker, and some have been completely destroyed. I’ve had my own closest relationships under the microscope. Because of this, I probably view relationships as a bit more ephemeral than I have in the past, and I’ve always been a fatalist. I see relationships, both intimate and friendly, as more of a daily choice than something that was ordained. I want to thank those who choose to have me in their lives and state how much I love and respect that choice. Things change. Life changes. Thank you for sticking around. Yeah, I am awesome, and thank you for recognizing that.

I say that because I found this short passage of truisms. Perhaps they are a bit harsh, but I think it is something that I need to keep in mind as people come and go.

people are allowed to leave you.
people are allowed to break up with you.
people are allowed to love you but not want to be with you.
people are allowed to not want to talk to you.
people are allowed to put their happiness before yours and do what makes them happy even if it does not include you.
people are allowed to move on from you.
people are allowed to fall in love with someone else.
people are allowed to not want you in their life.
people are allowed to do whatever they want to better themselves and become the version of themselves they are trying so hard to love.
don’t be bitter towards someone who is only trying to be happy.

Hey Mike!

A couple of years ago I took a trip to Salt Lake City. I got my rental car and headed south on 215. I turned on the radio and found a station that was playing "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard. I really love that song. After it was over I mused how the musical taste of Utah hasn't progressed in 30 years. I doubt that is true, but it made for a chuckle.

So I round Point of the Mountain and head into Utah Valley. I start realizing that I need caffeine. I need my Dr. Pepper fix. And I'm a little hungry. Mind you, I'm not a foodie. I eat to survive more than enjoyment. I want to eat and get about other things. So. McDonald's, of course. Right across from Lehi Roller Mills.

As I placed my order for a double cheeseburger and large soda (Yes, I call it soda. It's a carry over from my mission days in New England.), the 20 something girl then asks, "What's your name?" I didn't know how to answer that. What kind of question is that in a McDonald's? "Excuse me?" "What is your name?" she repeats. Scenarios play out in my mind. Why is this woman asking for my name? This stop for energy has suddenly become a bit more familiar than I cared for it to be. Is she going to try to sell me something? Am I going to undergo a religious spiel? No, I don't wear my ring and a woman that age certainly wouldn't be striking up a conversation with me for that reason. Goll, that was an arrogant thought. So, I squint up my eyes and slowly respond. "Why?" This isn't a quick "Why?" but a more drawn out "Wwwwhhhhyyyyy?"

"For the order."

Okay. That's different. That's not how they do things in the impersonal midwest. I can do this. So I give my name and in short order, receive my barely edible food. Once again my world is restored and the evil caffeine is circulating through my system, bringing life again to your humble correspondent.

That was my introduction to fast food places using my name. I've gotten a bit more comfortable with it but not a whole lot.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go to a fast food place that I frequented a few years ago and also when Tracy and I first moved to Illinois. Things have changed a bit there. For example, this is where we used to shop.






















Not much going on there now, is there? Anyway, as I was eating the taco that took 20 minutes to make for whatever reason, I overheard the guy at the register retell his experience applying there.

"Yeah, when I came in and applied, there was only one person working at the whole place. Now that I'm working here, I'm the second person. Since this is my first day, it is actually worse than having only one person here."

I must admit, I enjoyed the candor of the guy. He was all smiles and trying to make a good impression on the customers.

As I went there today, there was a woman ahead of me that seemed to be confounded by drink sizes and only 3 or 4 other people in the dining area. One gentleman was at the drink station trying to figure out which of the 5 options to choose. The afore mentioned worker came out from the prep area with a tray of food, set it on the counter and spoke out the items loud enough so the patrons could hear him. No response or movement from anyone. There was some uncomfortable looking back and forth between us and he again yelled out the order. Again, no movement. When he looked at me fairly exasperated, as it was a busy day at the drive through, I pointed tentatively towards the guy still trying to figure out the mystical powers of Pepsi vs. Diet Pepsi. The worker looked at me again, rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath as he went back to the prep area. What followed was a great lesson in why they ask for your name. The worker returned and announced in a commanding bellow, "Hey Mike! Your food's getting cold, man!"

That was enough to rouse the drink whisperer out of his coma and he took his tray and took a seat.

That was highly enjoyable. I hope I told it well.

To Be Known

If you never tell anyone the truth about yourself, eventually you start to forget. The love, the heartbreak, the joy, the despair, the things I did that were good, the things I did that were shameful–if I kept them all inside, my memories of them would start to disappear. And then I would disappear. 

~Cassandra Clare, The City of Heavenly Fire

In a recent listen to a podcast that I enjoy, a psychologist spoke about transitions in our lives and our desire "to be known." I found that very insightful (at the 1 hour mark is that interview). I think much of the angst that I felt much of my life has been tied to that concept. Humans in our more intimate relationships what to be known. Yes, and with implied acceptance. I've hidden a lot of that from others because I was afraid of being known. I wanted to be accepted. This is a very common human condition, I believe.

I am a deep thinker. I'm very introspective, self-correcting and probably over-critical of my actions. I want deep romance, a poetic life, to be lost in someone. I'm not saying I'm any good at that, but it is what I want. I want that deep connection. I tend towards the depressive, romantic longing of poetry. I want to travel and see the world. Not the people side of the world, but the things of nature. I'm fascinated by lava, volcanoes, the sweep of an ocean wave. I can stare for hours at the push and pull of the tide and the flow of a river. I'm taken by the engineering of man. bridges, railroads and powerlines. Infrastructure isn't boring, it is part and parcel of being human.

I used to be seduced by religion but I've learned it can prey on my longing for understanding and acceptance. It hasn't been kind to parts of my thinking.

I'm not very good at some things. I'm a horrible handiman. I'm not given to tinker with things. I'm not excited about cars or motorcycles, but I love riding them, but mostly to get somewhere. My view of many things that men are fascinated with is purely utilitarian with me. I like sports, but can do without.

Learning a new program or way of doing something on a computer is exciting for me. I'm not any good with video games but I am enamored with the worlds the programmers create. It is my favorite view of art. And it is art.

I'm sure I'll reveal other parts of myself as time goes on. I'm feeling a bit of a shift in my thinking, my outlook on the world. I want to investigate it. I want to rip open the wrapper I encase myself in and let myself out. I don't think it will be too impressive, but I am looking to surprise myself. I think I'm still capable of doing that.

Bucket List Entry: Biking the Hennepin Canal Day 3

I was debating on whether to finish the canal by going up along the feeder canal, but technically, it is part of the canal and boats could have gone up and down it. There just aren't any locks along the route, but it turns out, there doesn't need to be one. The engineering is this, the canal summits by lock 22. There needs to be a source of water to make sure the canal stays at a usable level. So, they dammed the Rock River and channeled the water down to the canal, 30 miles to the south. During operation, they would get a good water flow and the water would run clearly. Since they are letting the canal go back to nature, they don't channel much water down the feeder at all. Flow is barely perceptible. Still, it is 30 miles of canal. Might as well complete the task.

The day started out again at Lock 22, my favorite spot on the canal. It wasn't all that cold, but it was early. Tracy dropped me off and I started towards the feeder basin as the mist rolled off the water. I was on my way, hopefully along the easiest part of the canal. Tracy went off for coffee and supplies and would meet me later up the path. I started the five miles to the Green River Aqueduct, my first anticipated stop. Many years ago, I biked up that aqueduct with Hayden. There was a closer one to Lock 22 but the Green River promised a nicer view so we went north from the lock. Now I was doing this myself. 

One of the artifacts along the route are these occasional cement poles that were used for signalling or maybe just because there was a right of way. One of the things I found interesting, because I find strange things interesting, were that there was a fence line, more visible on the right photo, made of the same cement poles. I assumed that the same time the poles went up, the fenceline did also. It really was a beautiful morning and my new phone has a much better camera than my older one.

I reached the Green River without any problem. I wasn't even breathing hard, unlike the first time I took that trip. I now had 25 miles of harder trail to traverse, if what I had read was correct. There weren't any wash outs, but the trail wasn't paved for most of it, and it was even more sparsely populated than the rest of the canal. We had traveled here in our VW and it wasn't sounding all that great. I hoped it would last for the trip and the way home.

If you have been paying attention at all to me, you know how some things fascinate me, mostly infrastructure like bridges, power lines and canals. This high power line crossed the canal just a ways from the aqueduct. At another point of the canal there were signs on either side of the canal telling boaters to not anchor there as there was a gas line below the canal. I didn't take a picture of that because I did have a rhythm on my biking and I didn't want to break it. Just north of IL92 Tracy caught up with me and I pumped in some liquid and calories. I had eaten a few protein bars along the way and I was amazed at how my body reacted to them. I was energized for a time but I could tell when the quick calories were finished. My body quickly let me know that my blood sugar was diminished again. Still, it wasn't a hard ride, and I made good time.

I wanted to capture a stretch of the canal that was indicative of the path as a whole, perhaps to be a Facebook Cover Photo of mine. This was what I came up with. It was a very nice stretch right here. Tracy caught up with me north of IL 172 and I was off again for Rock River. She did stop to say "Hi" just south of town. There was a small turn out along a road there (as with every other road that crosses the canal) with two other cars with bike racks. Considering I had only met a guy illegally fishing and an older gent walking along a particularly isolated part, I hadn't met anyone else. Shortly after I said goodbye to her, I met two women biking south. I waited until they went around a dead log blocking the path. I'm always self-conscious about meeting women on these isolated parts, and I had met some. I don't want to be maced just for being a male, if you understand what I mean. I always think women will suspect the worst from me because of my gender.

I finally reached the end. This is the lock and intake for the feeder canal, along with a few of the building for maintenance of the entrance.

Some descriptive info from the end, or beginning, of the trail. I talked to some guy there at the end as I seemed to be always crossing his path while taking these shots. He told me that the city was trying to take ownership of their part of the canal because the state isn't taking care of the place. I am considering giving some $ to the Friends of the Canal.

OOne short bike across the river, and DONE!