Tuesday, August 16, 2005


When I was a kid, my grandfather had a boat. Not a big car, mind you (okay, he had one of those, too) but a motor boat. When my sibs were younger, they used to water ski and fish. By the time I was old enough to go on these outings, we mainly just went fishing.

Then he got older, the boating got more expensive, and he sold the boat. Once or twice we went fishing off of a dock, but it wasn't quite the same (I caught an eel, eww).

This weekend my sister and her husband chartered a fishing boat. Three of us, and the captain, set out at 6:45 AM. We were essentially alone on the bay. After trying a few different fishing holes, the captain told us we would try another place. We zipped along right to my grandfather's favorite fishing hole.

I closed my eyes, and I was a kid again. The sound of the engine, the sound of the water swishing past, the smell of the salt air, the wind on my face. If I opened my eyes, I knew I'd see my grandfather at the wheel, his fishing cap on, and I'd be 11 years old again.

It had been at least 15 years since I'd been out on the bay. Time has stood still, because it was exactly the same. I've gazed at it for many an hour in the intervening time, but always from the shore, usually as a pitstop on a long bike ride.

So we were back. At one point, while fishing along one corner of the bay, we turned on the radio. Mom had me call dad to find out what radio station they had been listening to that week (okay, with the advent of cell phones, some things have changed out on that bay...). We tuned to the Golden Oldies station, and listened to a Frank Sinatra song.

This was ironic, you see, because my grandfather couldn't stand Frank. Why not? My grandfather was a professional musician for his entire career. That was his work, and that was his passion. If you listen to old recordings of him, you might think you were listening to Frank. He had theories that Frank put him out of business... So, you couldn't talk about or listen to Sinatra around him.

After the Frank song ended, the announcer came on and said, "You're listening to the sounds of Sinatra.." The entire program was Sinatra. We snickered a bit, and cast our lines back in. Towards the end of the program, I stood on the bow, casting into the current, the warm sun on my face as Frank crooned "The Summer Wind".

Such moments are nothing short of magical. Somewhere, I'm sure, my grandfather had to smile.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

A Bad Sign


Monday when I came to work after being on vacation, I passed a sign as I approached my office. It said:

"Expect Delays July 2005 - Fall 2007"

Two years of delay expectations? A bad sign indeed.

To their credit, they have ripped out the road in front of the office, which resulted in some "electrical supply continuity issues", not to mention continuing, fun traffic "delays".

Well, on the bright side, it's only two years.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Lend Me Your Ears

Perhaps you can help settle a differing point of view that Incrivel and I have come across.

Allow me to propose the following hypothetical situation.

You find yourself sitting, waiting for a Church meeting to begin, and perhaps you are seated next to a friend, such as Incrivel.

Hypothetically, you and Incrivel are reverently sitting there, minding your own business, quietly pondering and reflecting. Seated behind you, again hypothetically, is a person who holds a leadership position in your stake.

This stake leader begins to discuss something concerning your wife... Not knowing, of course, that you are your wife's husband, hypothetically. At least not recognizing you from the back of your hypothetical head.

So, while reverently sitting there, waiting for the hypothetical meeting to begin, you hypothetically overhear someone discussing your spouse's current calling, and how her calling was hypothetically inspired.

Now, hypothetically, what is one to do? Plug one's hypothetical ears? Irreverently begin to talk to someone else, so as not to hear? Hypothetically speaking, if someone discusses something while seated amidst 100-200 other people, shouldn't that person naturally assume that, hypothetically, others will overhear?

I maintain just that. Incrivel says I'm going straight to hell. Hypothetically speaking, that is.

Your thoughts?