Isn't It Incredible What 26 Little Letters Can Do?

November 21, 2006 Observation:

On Halloween, October 31, 2006, I listened to President Gordon B. Hinckley speak to the BYU student body at their weekly devotional.  I was impressed that at age 96 he was still able to speak with such intelligence and clarity.  It was his opening remarks that caught my attention.  He said that on one occasion, Ralph Waldo Emerson, was asked what books he had read that had influenced him the most.  Emerson replied that he could no more remember all the books he had read than the meals he had eaten, but they had made him what he was.  As I reflected on what Emerson said, as quoted by President Hinckley, it struck a chord within me as being a true statement.  I suppose all of us are shaped, not only by the meals we eat, but by the books we read.

I have been blessed in my lifetime to have been exposed to some of the greatest books ever written which certainly have shaped my thinking and even my behavior I believe.  My mother introduced me to many great books as a young boy, and then I met Dr. Nan Grass while attending BYU, who for an entire two semesters, five days a week, taught me to love the great literature of the English language in her marvelous course, "Major British Authors".  Through her guidance I began to love the writings of Shakespeare, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Browning, Lord Byron, Matthew Arnold, John Milton, John Donne, Chaucer, and a host of others. 

And then, still a young man, I came to Southern California in 1970 to be the institute director at the Institute of Religion at California State University at Los Angeles.  I was able to determine what I would teach and one of the first classes I chose to teach at the Institute level was entitled "Presidents of the Church".  At that time there was a very meager lesson manual for that course which was a great blessing because it forced me to read a biography on each one of the presidents we would be discussing.  This began a passion that I still have to read biographies of great people.  I would read the biography of one of the Church Presidents and then around the dinner table each evening I would tell my little children stories from the lives of the prophets.  They were a very receptive audience and came to know a great deal about the presidents of the Church.  Little did they know how much they were helping me to teach my Institute class by trying out stories from the lives of the prophets on them.

The lives of these great men, along with the great literature I had been reading, shaped my thinking and inspired me to always want to be a better person.  I am always looking for good biographies to read.  How blessed I have been to not only read the biographies of great Church leaders, but also of men like George Washington, John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses S. Grant, Theodore Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Harry S. Truman, Douglas MacArthur, Dwight D. Eisenhower, and many others as well. 

Since my accident and loss of physical mobility I have also come to love history, and through my reading have witnessed the building of the Panama Canal, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Transcontinental Railroad, been on the Lewis and Clarke expedition, circumnavigated the globe with Magellan, experienced the incredible year of 1776 and Washington's crossing of the Delaware, seen World War II through the eyes of a "Band of Brothers", and on and on it goes.  How dull and boring my life could be if it were not for the magic of reading. 

Through my reading one of my favorite historical characters has become Theodore Roosevelt.  I am just amazed at this man.  I think my subconscious self would like to be like Theodore Roosevelt.  I have read three major books on his life and am just finishing a fourth that I picked up at Costco (not a bad place to find a good cheap paperback).  It is written by a lady by the name of Candice Millard and is entitled "The River of Doubt".  Roosevelt wanted to run for a third term as president of the United States but the Republican Party didn't want him.  The Republican Party was backing very strongly, Howard W. Taft, at the time and therefore Teddy formed his own political party which became known as the "Bull Moose Party".  Because of the third party Teddy formed, the Republicans lost the 1912 presidential election.  Teddy was used to winning and when he lost the election by a substantial margin he went into an unusual depression.  Shortly after the 1912 election he was invited to South America on a speaking tour, and his family, thinking an exciting adventure would help his depression, encouraged him to accept the invitation. He accepted on the condition that he could also do some exploring.  He was 55 years old at the time.  This book about his adventures and adversity in traveling down a river ("The River of Doubt") in Brazil that no one had explored and was not even on a map is exciting and reveals so much about the character of this great man.  He suffered greatly in the vast Amazon rain forest -- 1913-14 -- and died a few years later, much younger than he would have had he not taken this trip.

Theodore Roosevelt had traveled extensively in his lifetime.  He led his Roughriders up San Juan Hill in Cuba, had fought grizzly bears, had a big cattle ranch in the Dakotas, and was tough as nails.  I think his trip to Brazil tempered him somewhat and taught him a great lesson about life as evidenced by a statement he made near the end of his life. "Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."  [Theodore Roosevelt, 26th president of the United States, 1858-1919]

Having studied his life, this statement appears to me to be so untypical of this adventurous and vital man.  However, I believe any human being who learns to do what he can, with what he has, where he is, has discovered one of the great keys to a happy and fulfilling life.  I believe I have tried to adopt Roosevelt's philosophy into my own life since my accident.  I haven't always been successful in doing so, but those days that I do all I can, with what I have, where I am, are rewarding and fulfilling days. 

At this Thanksgiving time there are a multitude of things I am thankful for, but very high on the list is being able to read.  Although my body is mobility impaired, through the magic of reading, my mind knows no limits.  Through reading I have become acquainted with some of the greatest people with the best minds that have ever lived, and have vicariously experienced many of the world's most important events in history.  Isn't it incredible what 26 little letters can do? 

"... and be content with such things as ye have..." [Hebrews 13: 5]

Dad/Grandpa/Jack

Memory

Friday November 10, 2006

I have learned over the years to accept and deal with the big problems of life like being paralyzed and living on life support.  It's the supposedly simple and small things of life that make me cry out at times, "It just isn't fair!"

For example, my Internet provider for a number of years now has been Comcast.  Without consulting me, Comcast sold out to Time Warner, and a couple of weeks ago I got a letter in the mail from Time Warner informing me that some outfit called Road Runner would now be my new cable Internet provider.  They told me I had a week in which to convert my e-mail system to Road Runner and gave me the necessary information to get on Road Runner's "easy installation" website.

With some trepidation I accessed the website and my eyes crossed and began to water as I tried to follow the "easy installation instructions".  I soon discovered that these simple instructions would cross even a rabbi's eyes and challenge the intelligence of a rocket scientist. You may not know this about me, but I am a hard loser and like a challenge, so I dove into it and tried my best to get my e-mail working once again with the Road Runner service.  Conservatively speaking, I spent 15 hours before I admitted defeat.  It happened late one night when nothing I tried seemed to work and I just admitted to myself that there was no way I could get this Road Runner e-mail service to work.  I vowed that the next morning I would not even look at the Road Runner website nor even think about e-mail.

The next morning my son, Rich, called and wanted me to do a school project for his son Trevor which involved the use of the computer and e-mail.  I told Rich I would love to help out but my e-mail was not working right.  Well, about noon Rich showed up and I showed him what I had done and was doing to install the Road Runner e-mail program.  He took one look at it and said "Dad, I'll bet you that your password is case-sensitive."  I gave him my password and he punched it in using uppercase instead of lowercase and it was like hitting the jackpot.  25 or 30 e-mails appeared in my inbox and I haven't had a problem since. 

Why are our kids so much smarter than we are?  It just isn't fair!  Then to infuriate me just a little bit more, the other day for some reason, I went to the Road Runner home page and at the bottom right hand corner in small letters it said something like, "By the way, for you former Comcast users make sure that when you type in your password realize that it is case-sensitive." Have you ever felt you were getting close to being sanctified and translated only to have something like this happen and you think thoughts and mutter things under your breath that are hard evidence that the "natural man" is still alive and well?

And then my voice recognition software began giving me problems.  For no reason at all a little sign would pop up and say, "You are having a memory problem."  Well, lots of my older friends and I do have memory problems so this was not exactly a revelation.  However, Dragon Naturally Speaking 7.3, my voice recognition software program, wasn't working the way it normally did.  I had Jo Anne call John Klabius, the owner and operator of a little company called "Voice Solutions".  I have been working with John for over 10 years now and he has always proven to be honest and straightforward regarding the selling and installation of Dragon Naturally Speaking products.  He told me that the 9.0 version of Dragon Naturally Speaking was incredibly good, and that if I upgraded it would solve all my problems.  The next day John came over to install the new version and was surprised at how slowly the installation program was operating.  He asked me how much memory I had in my computer.  I proudly told him I believed it had 512 megs of RAM memory (whatever that means), which I thought was a lot of memory.  John informed me that I needed at least one gig of RAM memory for the new Naturally Speaking software to run well, as well as all of the other programs on my computer.  I foolishly stared at him for a moment and then said, "The only Gig I ever knew was a Griffith" (son of Ed & Bunkie Griffith).

Well, I knew I was pushing my luck with Jo Anne.  The new upgrade for Dragon Naturally Speaking had set us back several hundred dollars and to upgrade to a gig of memory, whatever that was, wasn't going to be really cheap according to John, depending on how my computer was configured for memory.  Thankfully, Jo Anne has lots of faith and trust in John Klabius, so nonchalantly I revealed to her that John said we needed to upgrade the memory in my computer to a gig in order for Dragon Naturally Speaking to work well.  Jo Anne got a dazed look on her face and muttered, "The only Gig I know is a Griffith!"

To her credit she loaded me in the van the next day and we paid a visit to Micro Center, a computer store located just several blocks from where we live.  We took my Hewlett-Packard laptop with us and told the salesman that we wanted to double the amount of RAM memory in the computer for a total of a gig.  As we were in the store I began thinking what an incredible thing it is to be able to go to a store and buy "memory".  Wouldn't it be wonderful if when our thought processes slow down that we could go to a Micro Center and have several gigs of memory implanted in our brains.  I guess we would be willing to pay almost anything to get just one gig of memory installed in our brain as we get older.

As generally happens, Micro Center sold us and installed only half the memory we needed and had requested.  It took us several days to iron out all the problems but now I am the happy owner of a gig of RAM memory and the 9.0 version of Dragon Naturally Speaking.  Nothing is ever easy and the "natural man" in us wants to cry out "Life just isn't fair!"

I know we can't go to a "memory store" to upgrade our memory as it goes on the decline.  However, thankfully, there is a form of a "memory store" available to all of us at really no cost.  The "memory store" I refer to is the Scriptures.  In the Scriptures, if we search them each day, we are reminded of the most important things in life, and especially the most important thing -- the mission and atonement of Christ. Incredibly, there are 275 references in the Scriptures that use the word "remember" or a form thereof.  There are an additional 73 references in the Scriptures that use the word "remembrance" and if that were not enough, 39 references where the word "memory" is used.

President Kimball once said: "Scriptures are man's spiritual memory. In a very real sense special records, such as the holy scriptures, are the spiritual memory of mankind." (Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, 125)

And so, as wonderful as it would be, sadly, we can't go to a "memory store" and buy a gig of memory and have it implanted in our brains.  However, if we are wise we will be renewing our spiritual memory through the searching of the Scriptures every day of our lives.  Ultimately, our spiritual memory will prove to have been a greater blessing to us than our deteriorating physical memory.

Dad/Grandpa/Jack

Halloween

Tuesday, October 31, 2006 Observation:

Each year when Halloween rolls around I am reminded of my mom and dad, long since gone from this earth.  They were married in Abraham, Utah on October 31, 1925 -- Halloween.  At the time of their marriage my dad was 17 and my mother 18.  My dad had only an eighth grade education, but my mother had graduated from Hinckley high school, near Delta, Utah, as valedictorian.

They couldn't make a living by farming in Abraham, so when my 17-year-old dad heard that there was work in the mines in White Pine County, Nevada, he went there to investigate.  He traveled to Ruth, Nevada, a very small mining town, and went to the Star Pointer Mine, an underground copper mine, owned by Kennecott Copper Corporation.  The day he went to the mine there was a large line of men also seeking work. Dad was only 5'4" and weighed, at that time, probably 125 to 130 pounds.  The hiring boss took one look at him and told him there was no way that somebody so small could do the hard physical labor required of a miner.  Dad, never lacking in confidence, told the boss that he could out shovel any man he had working for him.  The boss liked his spirit and said he would give him a chance to prove what he said was true.  That began dad's career as a "mucker" in the Star Pointer Mine.  A mucker is one who shovels ore into little ore cars after blasting takes place in the tunnel in which they are working.  True to his word, dad was a world-class mucker as I learned later in life in trying to keep up with him shoveling anything.

Dad sent for mom and they began their life together in Ruth, Nevada and working for Kennecott which dad did until the day he died in 1970.  On his 34th birthday he was walking home from work one day and realized that he had spent exactly half of his life working underground.  He applied for a new position above ground which he was granted and eventually began working in the warehouse where his expertise with numbers and handwriting stood him in good stead.  He was working in the warehouse at the time of his death.

Mom and Dad had one message for their boys; "Go to college, and don't end up in the mines."  We must have paid attention because all four of us graduated from BYU and went on to receive graduate degrees.  Both mom and Dad were instrumental in inspiring us to go on to college and to a better lifestyle, but mom was the driving force.  It was not until I was paralyzed and living on life support that I truly appreciated what my mother did for me as a young boy.

She was a voracious reader all of her life, and instilled a love for reading in me and I believe in all of my brothers as well.  Almost every year for Christmas and my birthday I would be given a beautiful book of some kind.  I remember receiving and reading such books as Kidnapped, Treasure Island, Heidi, Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, The Bobsy Twins, and a series about a great fictitious athlete by the name of Chip Hilton.  Chip Hilton was a fabulous baseball and basketball player and through this series I followed him from high school through college.  I could hardly wait to get my next Chip Hilton book. 

Mom was the cultural refinement teacher in Relief Society for many years.  Her love was to teach great literature which she shared with me and my younger brother, Kim.  She introduced us to Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and a host of other great writers.  In the early 1950s before the civil rights movement began she had us read a book entitled "Black Like Me".  I still remember how horrified I was as a young boy to read of the plight of African Americans in the United States.  My mom was forward thinking with regard to these kinds of things.

However, she was not only a voracious reader but she loved music and sports as well.  She never forced me into music but once I signed up to play the clarinet in the fourth grade and then to take piano lessons when I was 12 years old she would never let me quit.  I can still remember her standing behind me and counting out loud while I practiced the piano.  She was a pretty tough taskmaster. As the years went by I began to love music and had always loved sports of any kind.  She was a knowledgeable sports fan and won a little money by entering the Ely Daily Times football prognostication contest for college football.  In her 80s when she would be living in our home for several months out of the year, we would watch every Lakers game we could together, and she knew what was going on and had a few insults for the referees if the call went against the Lakers, or especially her hero, Magic Johnson.

When I had my accident it took only a few days to realize that my life from that point on would be a life of the mind and spirit.  Because my mother had instilled such a love of reading and music in me, and because of her constant encouragement for me to do my best as an athlete I discovered that my life could be very fulfilling and satisfying because I loved so many things that I could do with my mind.  Of course I couldn't play my instruments anymore or participate in sports as I had once done, but I could listen to music, and watch sports, and especially I could read and write with my voice recognition software.  Reading the scriptures and other great books has been so fulfilling and rewarding during the 17 years I have been paralyzed, but I have also enjoyed great music, great baseball, basketball, and football games, as well as Turner classic movies.

The mother of a teenage boy who had a spinal cord injury called me to ask me if there was any hope for a good quality life for her son.  I began telling her enthusiastically about the computer and the blessing it is to someone in my condition to be able to read and write and have access to the Internet and etc. There was a pause and then she said "I'm afraid that won't do my son any good.  All he has done during his lifetime is to play and ride motorcycles.  I don't think he has ever read a book."  That was one of the most tragic statements I have ever heard.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell once spoke of traps that we might fall into during mortality if we are not careful. "[one  trap]... is that some of us neglect to develop multiple sources of satisfaction. When one of the wells upon which we draw dries up through death, loss of status, disaffection, or physical ailment, we then find ourselves very thirsty because, instead of having multiple sources of satisfaction in our lives, we have become too dependent upon this or upon that..." (Neal A. Maxwell, But for A Small Moment, 1 Sept.1974, BYU Devotional)

Thanks mom and dad on this Halloween for having blessed me in so many ways to deal with my physical ailment because of the multiple sources of satisfaction in life to which you introduced me as a young boy. 

Dad/Grandpa/Jack

Sword of Damocles

Thursday, October 12, 2006 Observation:

I have a friend whose e-mail name is "Sword of Damocles".  He has studied classical literature and was in a Ph.D. program studying philosophy at Columbia University in New York City for several years.  When I first saw his e-mail name I was intrigued by it, but at the time did not know of its significance.  However, in doing a little research I found out the following regarding the "Sword of Damocles".

Damocles, in classical Greek mythology, was a courtier at the court of Dionysius I. He so persistently praised the power and happiness of Dionysius that the tyrant, in order to show the precariousness of rank and power, gave a banquet and had a sword suspended above the head of Damocles by a single horse hair. Therefore, because of this ancient Greek myth, over the centuries the expression, "the sword of Damocles" has come to mean "an ever-present peril".

I don't think my friend is paranoid necessarily, but why would he choose the "Sword of Damocles" as an e-mail moniker? I must ask him some time.  As I have thought about it though, I believe it is his way of stating a fundamental truth regarding his mortality.  In a sense, we all have the Sword of Damocles dangling over our heads.  My expression for the Sword of Damocles -- "an ever-present peril" -- is "living on the edge".  I have been especially sensitive to the "Sword of Damocles" philosophy while living on life support for 17 years.  I have had numerous brushes with death, all of them convincing me that I indeed am living in "an ever-present peril".  You may think this is a very negative way of looking at life, but I don't think so.  Realizing that I am "living on the edge" and under the dangling "Sword of Damocles" helps me to appreciate and value each good day I am given.  It motivates me to make the best of every day of life I am granted. 

You may not want to believe it, but we are all "living on the edge" and directly under the dangling "Sword of Damocles".  I personally believe it is a healthy thing to realize how fragile life is, but I don't think the Lord wants us to face the present or the future with fear and trembling.  To feel at peace and secure each day of our lives is what living the Gospel should do for us isn't it?

A while back I was speaking on the phone to my good friend, Jim Carter, who lives in Ogden, Utah.  Jim has some health issues at this time in his life, and as we were sharing our medical histories with one another -- a sure sign of old-age -- I said to him, "Jim, when do we get to start living happily ever after?" He laughed and said that sounded like a question for one of my observations.  Well, I suspect that the Lord did not place us on this earth to really ever live "happily ever after".

Elder Boyd K. Packer put it beautifully in comparing the plan of salvation to a three act play.  “There are three parts to the plan. You are in the second or the middle part, the one in which you will be tested by temptation, by trials, perhaps by tragedy … Remember this! The line ‘And they all lived happily ever after’ is never written into the second act [of a play]. That line belongs in the third act, when the mysteries are solved and everything is put right...Until you have a broad perspective of the eternal nature of [the plan], you won’t make much sense out of the inequities in life...When you know the plan and the purpose of it all, even these things will manifest a loving Father in Heaven”. (The Play and the Plan [satellite broadcast, 7 May 1995], 1–2)

And so, really only in fairy tales do princes and princesses live happily ever after.  That is not to say that life is not to be filled with peace, joy, and fulfillment, but that peace, joy, and fulfillment -- fruits of the Spirit -- will come from righteous living, exercising faith in Christ, and being strengthened by Him to deal with the vicissitudes of mortality.

I think we must be careful not to give our children a false impression regarding life.  They need to understand at some point in time that seemingly bad things can come into the lives of everyone.  A careful reading of the parable of the house built on a rock, as opposed to the house built upon the sand, will reveal that the full fury of the storm came to both houses.  Just because one house, or life, was built upon the rock (Christ) did not protect it from the full blast of the wind and rain.  However, because it was built upon Christ, it did not fall! 

The storm sooner or later will come to all of us.  It is not a matter of if, but of when.  However, if our lives are built upon the sure foundation of Christ, "... when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall."  [Helaman 5:12]

Whether we want to believe it or not, living under the dangling "Sword of Damocles" or "On the Edge" is a reality for each one of us.  I think we will have to wait a while, at least until we enter the spirit world, to begin "living happily ever after!"

Dad/Grandpa/Jack

Mornings

Friday, September 29, 2006 Observation:

I believe it happened in February when I was spending an inordinate amount of time in bed because of a pressure sore.  Thankfully, when I spend time in bed I am able to work on my laptop computer making the downtime not as "down" as it would be otherwise.  For some reason I was spending a lot of time reading the Old Testament.  I just couldn't seem to get enough of it.  I was reading 2 Samuel one afternoon when some words just leaped off the page at me.  These words were David's final words recorded by the author or authors of Samuel, preserving a metaphor regarding Jehovah, Christ, The God of Israel. "Now these be the last words of David...The God of Israel...the Rock of Israel spake to me [saying]...And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds..." [2 Samuel 23:1-4]

I think David's metaphor concerning Christ struck such a responsive chord in me because of my love for the precious rising of the sun I have witnessed and enjoyed during my lifetime.  For the past 17 years I generally haven't arisen until the crack of 10 a.m., but before my accident I was very much a "morning" person.  I believe my love of the morning began when I worked for Kennecott Copper Corp. each summer as a young man.  I would make enough money each summer working for Kennecott in Eastern Nevada to pay for two semesters at BYU the following fall and winter.  I invariably worked what was known as the "Graveyard Shift" which began at 11:30 p.m. and ended at 7:30 a.m.

The summer I worked as a drill helper I will never forget.  The drill was mounted on a rig that could be driven slowly from site to site depending on where holes needed to be drilled.  We would drill holes all night and then in the morning the powder crew would come and fill the holes with explosives, ignite them, and the entire town would shake, rattle and roll for just a few minutes during the moment of explosion.  Immense electric shovels would then scoop up the shattered earth which contained the precious copper ore, and deposit it in large trucks for ultimate transport to the smelter.

Once the drill began its work the driller and his helper didn't have much to do but watch the drill and correct any problems that might occur.  The Liberty Pit in Ruth, Nevada, where I worked is located in a mountainous area which is more than 7000 feet in elevation. I remember standing and shivering outside in the very cold Nevada night air, hour after hour and night after night, anxiously awaiting one thing -- the arrival of morning.  The Nevada nights were beautiful, full of stars, but I felt a great joy inside me as I looked at the Eastern Mountains and could discern them against a graying sky.  The dark would reluctantly and imperceptibly give way to the powerful light of the rising sun.  The morning star would still be visible, and then the sun would just seem to explode above the mountains and bathe me in its warm, life-giving rays.  The long, cold night was over, and one of God's greatest gifts to his children, a new day, had dawned.

In the mission field I became an "early morning Nazi"(translation -- fanatic).  I made it part of my mission to always be out of bed before any of my companions.  I felt so righteous (self-righteous) as I would sit at my desk studying Spanish and searching the scriptures for an hour or so before my companions would begin to stir.  Those hours, undisturbed by the awakening world, became precious to me.  I would always make a point of going outside, or looking out the window as the sky would begin to gray to witness another glorious morning burst upon the world.

Arising early did not end with my mission.  My most productive time of day was in those early hours before the sun would break over the horizon.  While I served as bishop my two oldest children were in early morning seminary, but not old enough to drive.  We had an old Volkswagen bus and I would take my two children and pick up three or four of their friends and drive them to the chapel each morning.  While they were in seminary I would run from the chapel up Browning and into the foothills.  My run would begin in the dark, but as I would return, the sky would begin to gray and by the time I reached the chapel to pick up the kids, the warming rays of the sun heralded that indeed, once again, a new day had been born.

I could go on with many more sunrise experiences, but suffice it to say, I think I know why David chose to describe Christ the way he did: "... He shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds..." David was a shepherd boy who cared for his father's sheep in the hills surrounding Bethlehem.  How many long nights did he spend guarding those precious sheep, anxiously awaiting the glorious sunrise and dawning of a new day? How he must have enjoyed the warming and life-giving rays of the sun that would come each morning bringing life to him, the sheep, and to the earth.

Christ himself said: "... I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."  [John 8:12] Christ disperses darkness, the darkness of sin and of death.  Light and darkness cannot occupy the same space at the same time.  David's metaphor is very powerful in teaching us that Christ is as the "light of the morning, when the sun rises, even a morning without clouds", dispelling the cold darkness of night and symbolically reassuring mankind that just as the night of death will come to each one of us, so will their come a glorious and literal "morning" of resurrection.

The scriptures reveal the following significant truth as well: "... Christ...is in the sun, and the light of the sun, and the power thereof by which it was made. And the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings... Which light proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space— The light which is in all things, which giveth life to all things..." [Doctrine & Covenants 88:7,11,12-13]

I believe when Christ comes to usher in his millennial reign he will come as the "light of the morning, when the sun rises, even a morning without clouds." I hope we will all be "morning" people then.

Yes, mornings are special as they remind us of the "light and life of the world".

Dad/Grandpa/Jack

Cuffed Trachea

Thursday, September 21, 2006 Observation:

I believe one of the most frustrating and terrifying experiences a person can have is not to be able to communicate, and because of it, to not get the help or reassurance needed to be comforted, and at peace.  The Lord gives little babies the ability to cry, really the only way they can communicate their needs, in order for them to receive the help or reassurance they need to be comforted and at peace.  A baby's cry, though oftentimes annoying to adults, eventually gets their attention and is a vital tool of communication given to each baby by a wise Heavenly Father.

While I was in the hospital a week or so ago the doctors felt it important to put me on a "cuffed trachea" while they put the scope down my throat to see what was going on inside my stomach.  A cuffed trachea has a little balloon-type device which when inflated allows no air to escape between the ventilator and the lungs.  The problem with it is that no air goes by the vocal cords making it impossible to speak, nor can one eat when on a cuffed trachea. 

Being paralyzed from the neck down and on a cuffed trachea makes any form of communication almost impossible, except for the blinking of the eyes which doesn't really work very well.  Approximately 18 years ago I was on a cuffed trachea for almost a month, and not being able to communicate almost cost me my life several times.  Early one morning, for example, I was running a fever and when I get overheated I begin to experience an anxiety attack similar to claustrophobia.  I was in the ICU of a trauma center and nurses were everywhere, but because I couldn't communicate my need to them, they really weren't paying much attention to me. I got to the point that I thought I would die if I did not get some kind of relief.  Just at that moment a good friend walked in, came to my bedside and looked into my eyes, felt my face, and instantly knew the problem and how to resolve it.  She got a container of ice water and with a washcloth began to bathe my face, arms, and legs.  The nurses quickly caught on and began to assist as well, and as my temperature went down so did my anxiety and I was soon comfortable and at peace once again. 

It is impossible to describe the desperate feeling that accompanies the feeling of needing help badly, and not having the power to express that need.  Several weeks ago now when they put me on a cuffed trachea to do the scope it was "deja vu all over again".  The doctors felt it would be wise to leave me on the cuffed trachea until the next day in case I started bleeding profusely once again.  Imagine being totally paralyzed, unable to communicate in any way, and then having Jo Anne finally asked by the nurses to go home.  The nurses were attentive thankfully, but I felt extremely vulnerable all night long -- a very long night -- and was so grateful that I did not experience any pressing need or life-threatening situation.  What joy to finally have the cuffed trachea removed later that day, and to be able to talk and even cry out for help if the need were to arise.

Our good friend Ken Rogers, fellow Central American missionary, BYU roommate, and best man at our wedding, during a conversation several months ago, perceived how dangerous it was for Jo Anne to leave me alone in the van while running into a store, even for just a few minutes.  Ken, an electrical engineer, wanted a day or two to think about the problem, and then he drove to our home in Tustin from San Diego with some small handheld radios that are able to transmit an astonishing distance.  Mine is voice-activated as I speak into the microphone which is part of my headset. Now, Jo Anne can leave me in the van with confidence for a few minutes, while she takes care of business in her favorite stores.  It is comforting to me to be able to say, "Jo Anne, where are you?"  More often than not she replies, "I'm at the return desk!"  I ask, "How long will you be there?"  She responds, "Just a couple of minutes" -- translation -- probably 20 or 30 minutes.  We are even getting the hang of radio talk.  I usually say "ten four" (I have heard radio people use that phrase; I'm not sure what it means but it sounds very authoritative and knowledgeable).  Jo Anne responds with "seven eleven" which to me makes more sense than "ten four".  When I am finished talking I always say "Roger, over and out!"  I don't know what that means either, and I like Jo Anne's response better than mine as she counters with, "Roger, In N Out".

As I have thought about our need as human beings to communicate, to be heard, and to receive a response, the principle of prayer has come powerfully into my mind.  Even with a "cuffed trachea" we can thankfully communicate our gratitude, and the needs we have to a loving Heavenly Father.  When on a "cuffed trachea", my prayers, though silent, have been fervently offered, and I have been blessed with peace and comfort beyond my ability to describe.

One of my favorite biblical figures is Joseph who was sold into Egypt by his brothers.  He was a young teenager at the time, torn from the loving arms and influence of his father, and placed in a radically different and worldly culture from which he was accustomed.  I would imagine there were those days that Joseph would have given anything to have talked to his father, Jacob, and to have received his assurance that all would be well.  However, Joseph was in Egypt and Jacob was in Israel, and no communication between them was possible.  Joseph prospered in Egypt as we know.  Although the scriptures are silent regarding the frequency and intensity of Joseph's prayers, there is one verse that explains his success, and I believe the peace and comfort he must have experienced as a slave and prisoner: "And the Lord was with Joseph..." [Genesis 39: 2]   

I believe the Lord "was with Joseph" because Joseph plead with the Lord in faith for his help.  Prayer can bring to us the comfort, sense of well being, and assurance we need so that we never have to experience the terror of not being able to communicate our urgent needs to someone who can help.  Not even a "cuffed trachea" can keep us from calling upon Heavenly Father from the depths of our souls.

What the Lord told ancient Israel applies to all of us today: "But if ... thou shalt seek the LORD thy God, thou shalt find him, if thou seek him with all thy heart and with all thy soul. When thou art in tribulation ... if thou turn to the LORD thy God, and shalt be obedient unto his voice...he will not forsake thee..." [Deuteronomy 4:29-30]

Dad/Grandpa/Jack

ICU stay

Friday, September 8, 2006 Observation:

Yogi Berra, the great philosopher, baseball player, and manager, said to one of his malingering players, "Are you dead yet?"  About a week ago in the ER I put that question to the doctors in the first person and asked them "Am I dead yet?"  Thankfully they assured me that I wasn't which was very comforting.  They asked me what my blood type was before giving me a transfusion and I told them "Ephraim".  This threw them off for just a minute but they quickly recovered and got me the blood.  Thanks to good doctors, marvelous medicine, and lots of fasting and praying by family and good friends, coupled with priesthood blessings, I am home and out of the hospital with a positive prognosis for the future.

However, a terrible thing has happened during the week I spent in the hospital.  Black Strap Molasses sales have plummeted in health-food stores all over the United States.  My week in the hospital even damaged the sugarcane market in the Caribbean and a number of plantations are on the verge of going under.  A consortium of health-food stores has asked me to rise up in defense of Black Strap Molasses.  I also think my son-in-law, Matt Riley, was a little off base in writing that Jimmy Durante, Groucho Marx, and Danny Kaye were not reliable nutritional experts.  They all lived to a good old age by eating "Black Strap Molasses and the wheat germ bread", and they all lived so long that others probably wished they were dead.

I have already told you more than you would ever want to know about blackstrap molasses, but to strengthen the sugarcane market, as well as blackstrap molasses sales in health-food stores across the nation, I must punish you with the following information.

"The George Mateljan Foundation is a non-profit organization free of commercial influence...Our purpose is to provide you with unbiased scientific information about how nutrient-rich World's Healthiest Foods can promote vibrant health and energy and fit your personal needs and busy lifestyle."

"Blackstrap molasses is a sweetener that is actually good for you. Unlike refined white sugar and corn syrup, which are stripped of virtually all nutrients except simple carbohydrates, or artificial sweeteners like saccharine or aspartame, which not only provide no useful nutrients but have been shown to cause health problems in sensitive individuals, blackstrap molasses is a healthful sweetener that contains significant amounts of a variety of minerals that promote your health. In addition to providing quickly assimilated carbohydrates, blackstrap molasses can increase your energy by helping to replenish your iron stores. Blackstrap molasses is a very good source of iron."

I promise never to mention Blackstrap Molasses again -- unless sales in health-food stores have been irrevocably and permanently damaged.

On a more serious note, let me share with you some random observations regarding my latest brush with death as a result of a bleeding ulcer that the doctors described as Mount St. Helens.

My faith and testimony in the "tender mercies" of the Lord has been strengthened.  The day the ulcer erupted was the day Jo Anne and my daughter Rachel and her two little girls were to fly to North Carolina to join Rachel's husband Matt who has begun a new career there.  Due to some extenuating circumstances, the trip was postponed and Rachel, an RN, along with her perceptive mother called 911 when I didn't think it was necessary.  Had I been put to bed that night without going to the ER, I doubt I would have lived to see the morning.  Some would say these were just coincidences, but I call them the "tender mercies" of the Lord.
My appreciation of my fellow human beings has been greatly expanded as a result of this experience.  I have never been treated so well by so many people for such a long period of time, that I can recall.  All of my nurses were from the Philippines -- I call them the Filipino Relief Society.  They treated me with great love, tenderness, and respect.  They couldn't do enough for me.  They were also very teachable, and although they were highly trained ICU nurses, they let Jo Anne teach them how to care for somebody in my condition.  The doctors were competent, compassionate, and did everything in their power to get me over the hump.  There are lots of good people out there!  Yes, we live in a very wicked world, but I believe there are still so many more goodhearted people then there are evil.  Instead of my injury making me cynical it has had the opposite effect.  I have a great love for people of all races and religions.  I have been treated so kindly by so many for so many years that to not love my fellowmen would be a sad reflection upon my own character.

My love and appreciation for my family was greatly enhanced as a result of this experience.  My sons and daughters and sons-in-law and daughters-in-law rallied behind me and were an incredible source of strength.  My son John, the ER doctor, was with me for three days questioning everything the doctors did, but I think really keeping the doctors on their toes.  My son Mike, the district attorney and prosecutor, was constantly cross examining the doctors, and I learned some things about my case through listening to those conversations that I would have not known otherwise.  It was reassuring to have all my children care so much.  In the ER room, my sons, Richard and Mike, gave me a special blessing that was very comforting at a very uncertain and difficult time.

The highlight of my stay in ICU however, was when my four oldest grandsons -- two priests, a teacher, and a deacon -- held a special sacrament meeting for me last Sunday afternoon.  They are all in the same ward and my son Mike is their Young Men's President.  Two of the boys are Mike's and two are my oldest daughter Jolene's oldest boys.  For me, it was one of those paydays that are unanticipated and therefore that much the sweeter.  They sang hymns, blessed and passed the sacrament, and then each one bore their testimony.  Each one recounted a sacred experience in which the Spirit had come to them and powerfully touched their hearts in such a way that they knew The Church was indeed true.  I do not have the verbal ability to accurately recount this experience, but it was one of the highlights of my life.  It was worth a bleeding ulcer to have had such an experience with my grandsons.  These kids are light-years ahead of where I was at their age.

I was also touched by the many friends that have expressed love and concern.  I have had reinforced in my heart that the only thing that really matters in life is the relationships we have with family, friends, and the Lord.  Nothing else really matters much at all.

Life is precious.  Each day is to be savored.  The most common things are really very special.
If there is a theme to this observation, in my own mind, it is that we have a kind, loving, Heavenly Father who pours out his "tender mercies" upon us constantly. "And in nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things..." [Doctrine & Covenants 59: 21]

Dad/Grandpa/Jack