Let me introduce you to my beloved calculator, the HP 48G. It is a marvel of engineering, for engineering. When I started into my engineering program at BYU, fully accepted program that is, I scrounged up enough money to buy an HP 28s. It made the program doable. It could do what I needed to pass my classes, like vector and matrix math and algebra.
Fast forward a few years. I am in my first paying job. I'm considering starting a master's degree at some point in the future (Tracy's came first though). My 28s is beaten to the point where I have to hold it together to keep the battery connected. Another BYU graduate that worked there mentions going to go up to BYU to register or some such. It also coincides with BYU's Bookstore Alumni Sale. That is like 20% off anything and everything. I'm still too broke to go up to Utah much and certainly not up to Provo. So, somehow I convince Tracy to depart with our huge stockpiles of cash and have him purchase a new 48G for me. I loved my calculator. I felt naked without it and certainly, my 28S was on life support.
So I purchased it. Didn't use it. We moved to Illinois. Tracy started her graduate program and I was working for Motorola. I had more computing power around me than I thought possible. I didn't need the calculator. I started my degree program. Still didn't need the calculator as it was a computer degree and has surprisingly little math. I think in the 24 years I've had this, I've used it for taxes every other year or so. (Notice in the upper right corner, it states it has 32KB of memory.)
So I'm tooling around the interwebs and for some unknown reason, I stumble upon an emulator for my phone of the 48 Series of calculators. FREE!. I paid over $250 for my original and here some jag with too much time on his hands puts one out there for free. Well, yeah. I'm all over this thing.
FREE! Look at it! Isn't it beautiful? It's on my freaking phone! My phone that has 1,000,000x the memory of the actual calculator!
You might not know what this is. This is a rock that Joseph Smith, founder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and numerous other churches based upon his teachings, found in a well while he was looking for buried treasure. He used it to look for other treasure, otherwise known as scrying. Later in his life, he used it to "translate" the Book of Mormon.
It presents a lot of issues for those, like me, who don't believe in magic. I can't tell you when I learned about the rock in particular as I've always had a thirst for history, including the faith that I was a member of.
Rather than project any of my problems and issues with this rock onto anyone else, let me just state some of the problems I had. If it does or doesn't cause you to pause, I'll leave it to you.
The Book of Mormon was said to be a translation of plates saved by a civilization over 1000 years. The method of using the rock was to place your head into a hat to shut out the light and read the words that appeared on the rock. No plates were involved nor needed in the actual process.
There were stones with the plates that were to be used for the purpose of translation. He didn't use those. Instead he used a rock he found in the ground.
I don't believe in magic. I don't believe that Joseph could find treasure by looking at a rock. I'm not sure why I gave a pass on his writing a book with it, except I accepted the book as scripture. I don't believe in a person using a rock or a crystal ball to divine anything. I never have. This departure of my skepticism in relation to this rock still is fascinating to me, for just the psychology of it.
If someone came to me today and told me that he used a rock to read ancient plates (that turned out weren't needed or used), I wouldn't believe him. For what logical reason would I?
It's a rock. It always has been a rock. It will always be just a rock.
I don't believe in magic. I never have, but I did it seems. I fixed that.
I tried to come up with the right way to present this, and I think that this is probably the best way to do it. I wanted to present the pictures and where they fall on the map. Unfortunately, Google doesn't really have a great way to show you everything and still allow it to be a casual experience. So, if you are easily entertained, this is for you.
Ever since I passed over the Hennepin Canal on one of our rides, I have been drawn towards it. Perhaps because it is relatively available, abandoned and hosts a bike trail. That combination is intriguing to me.
So, let's get on the trail.
This is Lock 29. It is not the farthest lock on the canal, as there are some more along the Rock River but aren't as accessible, and aren't on this path. My journey is along the bike path, not necessarily the length of the canal. Which is a good thing, because you can't get to the last locks on either end.
This is Lock 28. We are still along the well maintained part of the trail. The camera is already fogged by my sweat and the phone being in my pocket.
After passing a small sign with the notice, "Trail Closed", and passing under a waterlogged tunnel under I-80, we made our way further to the next lock. This is Lock 27 with the ends sealed off and the Green River now cutting across the canal path. The bridge was fairly nice. I had told Hayden that I was going to be taking pictures, and I got off my bike and dashed to the edge of the lock. The mosquitos were thick and instead of just ignoring them and getting on the bike, Hayden panicked and struggled to get out the bug spray from his backpack. The atomizer broke and I could smell it all the way to the bridge. I guess that is one advantage I have with growing up with a lot of bugs; not freaking out with their presence.
Along the line we had a few washouts and some were quite extreme. Then we met the above. We looked at it and along the right side, there was a gap in the limbs where if we laid our bikes flat we could slide them under the tree. So we did. I started to think that the sign announcing the trail was closed was somewhat accurate.
With Lock 26, we came out of the closed section of the trail and back to civilization, or close to it. Mowed grass at least. Notice the bridge. Because of the lay of the land, or lack of desire to build a bridge high enough, they chose a drawbridge that the barges had to operate as they went through. Only a few locks had this feature.
Lock 24 and its environs and mechanisms that are still in place. At the end of the ride in Rock River, it describes what the mechanisms do.
Lock 23 with some fishermen hanging out. The Hennepin Canal holds the records for largest fish in Illinois. It is so boggy there are probably many new branches of evolution happening there without being studied because, the boggy.
A few shots at the end of the day's ride. We had to pack up and head home for an appointment. 1/3 of the way done.
My wife made me stuffed zucchini tonight. That might not mean that much to you but it is a food that I remember fondly. I also am fond of cold cucumber soup, but that is another story.
Perhaps this post should be called Mission Food, but I only remember a few things worthy of culinary note while I was on my mission. Let me give you some setup for the food in focus today. As every other missionary, I started my mission attending the MTC. I was there to learn German as I was called to Switzerland, a fact I only recently started to publically acknowledge. The food at the MTC was standard institutional fare and I was quite used to it, having just completed 2 years in Helaman Halls. While it was starchy and filled with enough carbs to practically kill me now, I actually lost weight. I was so stressed, so depressed that I lost around 20 to 30 pounds, even though I ate well. I also had serious reservations about actually being a missionary. I loved some aspects of the LDS Church and culture and I wanted to go mostly because, 1) it was expected and I wanted to please my family and friends, 2) I wanted to be a good person and I was told this was part of being a good person, 3) I wanted to show gratitude to my Savior for helping me straighten out my life and giving me such wonderful friends and a beautiful girlfriend and for being able to attend a school that I loved. I loved learning so much. My reservations were that I didn't necessarily feel qualified to preach the Book of Mormon. While I felt it was a strong testimony of the Savior, I also didn't know if it actually happened. I mean, the characters were almost unbelievable and there wasn't any real evidence that the civilization described therein existed. That isn't to say I didn't believe in it. I also was extremely introverted. I was going to preach religion, some of my most personal beliefs, and I really didn't want to open myself to that kind of rejection and criticism. I just wanted to be a good man, a good husband and a good engineer.
Where was I? Oh yes. After two months of feeling guilty of past sins, stressed over missing my friends and girlfriend, all of whom I loved more than I admitted to anyone, I went to Switzerland. I went but none of the money that my parents sent me went. Here I was, halfway around the globe, holding my pants up with one hand, in the most beautiful part of the Earth I'd ever seen. Who in the world would want to talk to me about Jesus when they have all of THIS around them? I didn't even want to talk about Jesus when all I wanted to do was see things, and eat. That's right, eat. You see, no money means no food. Even after losing so much weight, I was destined to lose more because I had nothing. What little I had with me, borrowed off my companion, or the mission, I still wasn't eating. I wrote a few letters home telling them that I wasn't receiving anything and that they had to get to Zion's Bank and do something. I sent a few other letters out but that was expensive, and each letter cost about what a cup of macaroni cost so many letters were sent out at the expense of my eating. Macaroni was cheap (and food there was expensive) and it fooled my stomach into thinking there was something in it. I still get teary eyed when I think of one family there. I'll call them Family S. They looked at what a bag of bones I had become and let me have the run of their fridge. My pride kept me from eating everything, but I do remember a wonderful soft cheese that I could put on bread. Without them, that first month would have been much, much harder. I was in the land of bread, cheese, yogurt and chocolate, and I had none of it. I still was losing what little weight I had left and Family S had my suits redone so at least I could walk around clothed. I remember while the woman of the home measured me, she wondered if I had ever fit into those clothes.
My second month was much like the first. No money. No food. The branch held some get togethers and I had the chance to eat. While I didn't like my companion there, he did talk to the branch president and soon some Francs were pressed into my hand from members and we started having dinner, or rather, lunch appointments. This is where the stuffed zucchini came in. It was the first recognizable meat I had there, that wasn't in sausage form. We were at a young couple's appartment and the woman of the home brought out the zucchini fresh from the oven, cut crosswise with the middle hollowed out, filled with hamburger, potatoes and cheese. I don't think I ever had such a meal, one that was so appreciated. I think I hadn't eaten for a few days previous so I was so hungry and this meal was a work of art.
That is why I am fond of Stuffed Zucchini.
I later reconnected with a friend and asked if she knew why I had lost weight. "I think you said you didn't like the food." Really, is that what I said? Did I lie about everything to make things seem that they were going ok? "No. I was depressed, and I was starving. What little food I had was incredible."
Why did I lie about that with my friends? I know I didn't want to let anyone know how bad off I was, but these were the people I trusted and loved. Have I changed so much now?
I was sent stateside after my two months in Switzerland. I figured I was 40 or so pounds lighter than when I started at the MTC but I was gaining again because I received some money a few days before I left and I was working in the mission office for a week and the mission president had fed me. I got off the plane, met my new mission president and was promptly told that I was a "problem missionary" and he didn't want me in his mission. When I did meet my new companion, I just told him to take me to McDonalds because at the moment, all I wanted to do was eat Big Macs and sleep. And I slept for a full day.
John Legend, All of Me, One of the greatest love songs ever written in my opinion. I was messing around on Chromcast the other day with my kids surrounding me. I decided to watch a few music videos that I enjoy. I do this occasionally, mostly to upset the kids with my musical tastes.
While a few of them played, I noticed how focused Bennet was on the screen. He seems to have inherited our love of music. He was all kinds of excited when Tracy gave him his own playlist on Spotify and announces with joy when he finds another band/song that he enjoys. I decided at that point to play some Electric Light Orchestra, which was my favorite band for much of the 70's, when I was the age Bennet is now. I can't tell you how much I wanted to meet Jeff Lynne, the frontman and genius behind ELO. He was quite boring to watch, but his lyrics really spoke to me at the time, and he had a way of engineering and producing a sound that was so distinctive. I wonder if Bennet will get to the point of appreciating music at that level.
As I watched Bennet in my periphery, I decided to put on a video that he might like, Bruno Mars' "Just the Way You Are". That, of course, was all I needed to start thinking about my own affair with love songs and how it affected the way I think about love.
Bruno Mars, This guy knows how to say everything.
I don't know what normal is, but I would like to think I'm kind of normal, but I did have an affinity towards love songs. I didn't let that on to my classmates and friends in my teens. I was firmly in the Heavy Metal scene for all intents and purposes, but I enjoyed listening to love songs. I wanted to find that someone that would accept me, someone who I could open up to, let all this emotion go.
I can't say that I found that in my teens, and by the time I felt comfortable with my feelings, I'm so practiced at holding them in that they still don't come out. I did date a few women that I wanted to open up to, let them know all that I felt and could feel, for that matter. I didn't get some of the subtle cues that let me know they were comfortable with that particular aspect of love. I admit freely that I can be intense when I want to be. One woman stated often that she felt love was blind AND stupid. I never really understood what that meant and I was too bottled up to ask. I didn't feel that way towards love or her. Love was freaking fantastic and I wanted so much of it that it scared me.
My daughter and I went to the library this afternoon and she stated, somewhat out of the blue, "I hate poetry."
"You do? Why?"
"It's boring. It doesn't make sense."
"Well, you like music don't you?"
"Yes."
"Songs are just poetry set to music. Poetry is all around you. Perhaps it isn't fair to push it on someone your age. I certainly didn't like it at your age. It took me several decades to appreciate it."
"But I don't know how to like it, you know, without the music."
"Well, perhaps you just haven't found the right kind, or you might not ever like it. You don't have to like it you know. Let me tell you, some of the best poetry I've found, with the most depth of feeling, was written by young women when they are just 19 or 20. Also, you might consider the stories of the poets themselves. There was a man named John Keats. He met and fell in love with a woman while staying with a friend one summer. He wrote her such beautiful poems and letters declaring how much he loved her. One summer he became fatally ill, contagious so he couldn't ever see her. As he was dying, his poems became desperate, his love all the more intense knowing that he would never see her again, never kiss her or eventually marry. He wrote his friends, family, some of the most profound, hopeless and frantic letters. He loved her so much, and he was slowly dying. That gives you a lot more feeling behind his poems."
I am not sure I convinced her, but it did convince me that I needed to finish this post. I hope you find a good love song and let it in, let it swirl around and change your view towards the world.
Perhaps if you do, you'll be able to say or sing to someone "You're all I need" too.
I sit here at my computer. Funny, just a few days ago I had
so much to write, so much to say. I wanted to pour my heart out to anyone and
everyone. I wanted my life to change. I wanted to tell how much my thinking
about certain aspects of my life has changed.
Instead, I sat. I sat and looked at a few chipmunks scurry
across the porch. I sat and watched two of my kids ride bikes up and down the
driveway; one of them on a bike that I rode all over the Farm, ancient even
when I was a kid. I remembered coming back from the gravel pit with my cousin
so tired and hot that I almost couldn’t function. I sat and watched the fire,
the fire that my kids wanted me to start, abandoned after but two minutes.
I slipped into a non-thinking state. I had an earlier case
of panic in the days previous, haunted by earlier decisions and actions that I
have no power over now. I am still riding the waves of my earlier life, filled
with poor choices and some good choices but with elements that I couldn’t
control.
Do I want to be here? A life of solitude and separation no
longer holds any fascination with me. I find I’m too interested in people. I
want to travel. I want to walk and hike and climb that mountain. A life of
walking the sands doesn’t grip me anymore. What a change I have experienced.
As I started my Facebook feed this morning, I was greeted with this,
There are some memes that are funny, some that are ironic, sarcastic, whatever. This one was thought provoking. For those that read this blog regularly, you realize that there were some pivotal points in my life that I regularly revisit. They're pivotal. Of course I would. That's kinda the point, right? This reminded me of one of them. Probably the most influential in my life,
You know I'm all about relationships. I write and think about them all the time. That might seem odd for an engineer to say, but if nothing else, I think I have my priorities straight. I was head over heels in love in one particular point in my life. It certainly wasn't the most convenient. There were things that would take me away from the relationship for several years. I wasn't doing well in school. I was engaged in something that I was struggling with. I lost track of a lot of things, a loss of perspective. I wasn't feeling the most mature and I was emotionally flailing. I gave ultimatums. I needed, desperately wanted, security and a feeling of being desired. I felt like such a burden to all who I knew and loved. Depression is a horrible thing to go through with absolutely no support.
"Don't ever write to me again!" Funny how a few words can change your life, bring things back into perspective. Those words started a chain of events that modified almost everything about me. I didn't respect her boundaries. I wanted so much to be a "we" that I didn't respect "her". I never, ever wanted to feel that way again. I didn't want to ever lose sight of the person, the individual, with all their feelings, emotions, dreams, desires like I did then. I learned a very painful, miserable, and necessary lesson.
With that in mind, I have tried to improve and keep boundaries in the relationships I've had since then. Vows and covenants took on a different view in my life. I viewed them as unenforceable. I certainly wouldn't ever try to enforce them. For example, if Tracy ever decided that she had enough of me, I wouldn't hold her to a relationship that she was uncomfortable in. If I'm ever a hindrance, I would expect her to kick me to the curb and go on to a more fulfilling life.
And speaking of boundaries, there are some that I need to have in my life. We all have boundaries and sometimes we aren't clear with those around us what exactly they are. I know the first couple years of marriage with Tracy was discovering what her boundaries were, as well has her learning mine. I recently came across an article that laid out some of these boundaries. While I might take issue with some of these and perhaps the finality of the language, I found this list interesting, to say the least.
