Bizarre Rudeness

Yesterday, my wife and I had the unexpected opportunity to go see "National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets", without the kids. It was a wonderful movie, and I'm glad we went. However, when we went to the theater, it was a complete zoo. It seems a lot more people than usual had Friday off because of the holiday than we normally encounter on a weekday.

The theater had two screens showing the movie at 4:30, and we showed up at about 4:00. One of the theaters was completely sold out, with the other filling up quickly. We were afraid that we wouldn't get tickets in time, but we did. However, when we went into the theater, it seemed as if they'd oversold.

There was not a single pair of seats available except on the very front row. Since we'd end up both blind and crippled (with a broken neck) if we sat on the front row, we decided to investigate the other theater to see if it was a little less crowded. Sure enough it was, and there were individual seats scattered here and there.

We looked around and found a few seats right up towards the middle of the theater that were empty. A guy was sitting between two empty seats, so I asked him and the people on each side of him if anybody was sitting there. The man in the center indicated he was alone, so I asked if he'd move to one side or the other so I could sit with my wife.

He said no! I was flabbergasted. The theater was totally full of people, he had empty seats on both sides of him, and he wouldn't move. I asked him why and he said he had the center seat and wasn't going to move. He was totally rude about it. The people all around him were looking at him and he was unwilling to accommodate even in the least.

After a few moments of exasperation, I shook my head and looked at my wife for ideas. She said very loudly, "Well, we'll just sit on both sides of him." She was hoping he would feel somewhat awkward by the situation he'd created and would yield, but no go. She even sat on my lap briefly just to be funny about it. Didn't work.

So, I took a look down the row and found what seemed to be yet another seat on the same row that was empty. I left my wife there and walked up the row to ask if the seat was indeed empty. It was, so I asked the seven pre-teenage kids between the empty seat next to the rude man and the other empty seat down the row if they'd mind shifting one seat down so we could have two seats together. Without even hesitating, they said they would and did.

So my wife and I had two seats together, next to what this rude man said was the center seat in the middle of the theater. Sitting next to him shaking our heads, we looked around at where we were. From our perspective, it seemed that both my wife and I were actually in the center seats of the theater! We giggled over that little bit of irony and settled in to enjoy the show.

It was great. The second the credits began to roll, the rude man immediately stood up and made a bee-line for the door. Clearly, he didn't want to even look at us, let alone face the possibility of actually carrying on a discussion with us -- not that we actually wanted to talk to him. Once he was gone, some women sitting behind us, who had watched the whole thing go down, leaned forward and said, "What an a--!" We laughed together about how unbelievable this guy was. They said I handled the situation well, which I guess I did.

It was just really weird.

Regardless of the very rude man, the show was well worth seeing. I give it three and a half stars! Even worth the encounter with the rude man.

Blind Parenting

My wife insists that I write this as a therapeutic means of expressing my frustration. We went over to Six Flags this morning and had a very pleasant time. Right before leaving, we decided to stop and let the kids play in the "ball" house -- it's a pretty neat little area with thousands of foam balls that can be gathered and shot around in the room with air-compressed guns. It's a pretty neat place, but tends to be a little unruly.

So, I'm following my youngest around -- he's 2 2/3 years old -- and there's another little person there. I'm standing back to see what they'll do when the other child, who was about two inches taller than mine, sticks his chest out, puts his face right next to my son and looks down on him. Then he winds up a fist and pops my son right in the nose! I was shocked. It was exactly like what a bully in high school would do to the little nerd.

My son wasn't really hurt, but like any good parent, I grabbed the little punk by the arm, moved him back, and told him "No! You do not hit." Then this little boy did something astonishing. He wasn't apologetic at all; he looked up at me with a look of utter and complete hatred. I'd never seen that expression on a child his age, and it was unnerving. He didn't say a word. I looked up and there was his mother about fifteen feet away looking at me. She was far enough away and it was so loud that I pantomimed that her son had hit my son in the face. My son at this point had already turned to walk away, so I turned to follow him.

At this point, I was just going to put everything behind me, but eventually my son wandered back towards the other little boy, and I was soon confronted by both of the parents. The mother told me that her son was complaining that his arm was hurting him. She had stripped off all his clothes down to his T-shirt (he had several layers on) and was looking at his arm as if it had a compound fracture! While pointing at it, she was telling me that I had hurt her son! (There wasn't even redness on his arm, as far as I could tell.)

The father was standing by and I told them both that their son had hit my son in the nose, so I moved him away. The father seemed mollified, but his wife was still on the rampage. She kept going on and on about how he was complaining about his arm and how he shouldn't've felt anything through all those clothes, let alone be hurt, if I had been gentle enough. The little fink had ratted on me! I was flabbergasted. There was no apology from the parents, no acceptance of the fact that their precious child had done anything wrong -- just blame. The mother kept repeating over and over again that she watches her child closely and would never allow that to happen. Yet ... um ... hello! ... it just happened!

My wife had joined me mid-berating and we soon excused ourselves to leave. I was shocked and upset by the whole thing. I just couldn't believe what had happened. I had done absolutely nothing wrong, and yet I was somehow made out to be the bad guy. These parents (well, I think it was just the mother) were simply unwilling to be accountable for the actions of their child, instead placing blame anywhere but where it belonged. It was so weird.

Keep in mind that I'm around children all the time. It's tough not to be when you have three of your own who have play dates and birthday parties coming out their ears. In our church, we're also greatly outnumbered by the children, so I interact with them on a very frequent basis. I think of myself as a fairly decent parent, and I am not afraid to correct a child who is not my own if I see behavior that is out of order. In this particular case, my correction was mild, pointed, and I did not linger with a lecture or make a big deal. I simply moved the child away, told him not to hit, and went on my way.

In the clarity of afterthought, my wife suggested that we should've asked them what they would have done if it had been our child who had popped theirs in the nose. I'm sure they would've done as I did, or perhaps had an even stronger reaction. Then my child would've been to blame, and I would have been even more clearly to blame since I had raised my child so badly. My wife further suggested that some parents are completely blind to the fact that their children are not perfect angels.

Not me. I harbor no illusions that my kids are perfect. They're pretty good kids, don't get me wrong, but they make mistakes, as do we all (myself included!). But today, I know for a fact that my son and I did nothing wrong. So why do I feel so horrible about the whole thing?

First Day of Vacation

Today is the first full day of my Christmas vacation! I won't be working until the 7th of January, so I have over two weeks to chill out and be with my family! I am so excited. Of course, we have plenty of plans, but if we don't get to any of them, I'm not going to care too much ... I'm on vacation!

We do have planned to go to Six Flags as many times as we can muster while our season passes are still good. We'd like to go down to the L.A. Temple to see the Christmas lights. We want to take a walk over to a street nearby that is all decked out in Christmas lights. We need to make some goodies and take them around to families we'd like to visit. We are going to Utah to visit with both sides of our family. These are all our plans, but if we don't get to them, oh, well! I'm on vacation! (Well, maybe the Utah trip needs to happen ...)

It should be a nice couple of weeks, assuming the kids don't fight the whole time. Of course, I am on-call for work through next Wednesday ... I'm hoping everything goes smoothly with my spacecraft so that I don't get a call.

It's just astonishing that Christmas is in 4 days! My wife and I spent last night wrapping gifts and watching Stargate. It's amazing how much stuff we've accumulated to give away to people -- most of it we have to haul to Utah. Lots of fun! I'm on vacation!

Acultural

I am culturally clueless or, as I've said before, acultural. I used to think I was anti-cultural, but that's not really true since I do enjoy some cultural things. This morning, though, I was walking in to work and I saw a woman drive by. I could hear what I think was "gospel" music blaring from her car and she was driving with one hand.

She was moving her other hand, which was palm to the roof of her car with her fingers pointed behind her, up and down in a rhythmic fashion. I usually see this done with two-hands, but since she was driving, I'm glad she had at least one hand on the wheel.

So, what makes me acultural here is that I have absolutely no idea why people raise their hands above their heads in this fashion when listening to music or when they get particularly excited. People sometimes make a hooting noise to accompany the hand motions.

So ... why do people do this?! What is the significance? Does it represent something? How does one learn this behavior? I just don't get it ...

On Clinkers

Do you know what a "clinker" is? I didn't. My father said this word not long ago and I was baffled by what he meant. It took some explaining on his part before I finally understood that a clinker is what's left (the ash) after coal is burned. "Back in the day," when people had coal-burning stoves, the remaining coal ash would make a "clinking" sound when they bumped together. They would have to remove this ash fairly regularly, so sometimes the person tasked with removing the ash would also be called a "clinker".

To my knowledge, I've never seen one. I know that when wood burns down it's ashes certainly don't make a "clinking" sound when they are bumped together, but coal is much harder, so I guess it's not outside the realm of possibility. To me, this is weird.

This is an example of some bit of cultural knowledge that has become outdated and is being lost as time moves on. To me, the very term seems quaint.

So imagine my surprise to be on the receiving end of a similar experience.

One day when my oldest son was being particularly repetitious, I told him with some exasperation, "You sound like a broken record." He looked at me like I was a space alien. He didn't have any idea what a "record" was! What soon followed was me trying to clearly explain that they used to make disks -- much bigger ones than DVDs -- that had grooves in them, and there exists machines that spins these disks and pulls a needle across it's surface. The little vibrations caused by the pulling of the needle across the surface of the record would be amplified by the machine into music.

He was flabbergasted. Never had he heard such an idea, and of course he wondered why they didn't just use a CD. It seemed so complicated to him. Lost on him was the pleasure of placing the record gently on the turn-table then setting the needle ever so carefully on the edge of the disk. He'll probably never know the joy of listening to a big band as it blares from crackly speakers in all 78 rpm glory (wow, so fast!).

Another bit of cultural knowledge lost on the next generation. What is this world coming to?! (I wonder if my father asks that question sometimes ...)

Pre-Holiday Doldrums

Do you ever get the pre-holiday doldrums? At work, my productivity has tanked. It's not even my fault, either. Everybody that I need to talk to that has that one piece of information I need to make some forward progress is either already on vacation, or already mentally on vacation. This means that I have spent pretty much the whole day moving items from today's to-do list to January. The few things that I actually could do, I can't do because others have come to me to get that one piece of information that they need to make some progress, and they need it right now before the holiday.

So now today is wrapping up and I am left with just one more workday (tomorrow) to get everything done that really needs to get done before my Christmas vacation. I don't have much hope that anything will really get accomplished, but honestly, who cares?! Nobody else around here does, and my work will be here when I get back. My biggest fear is that management will make bad decisions in the first week of January that I will need to wrestle with when I return the second week of January. What a wonderful thought on which to leave on vacation ...

Family Home Evening - I Am Clean!

Tonight we had a Family Home Evening. We were originally intending on baking some goodies and delivering them to my Home Teaching families for FHE tonight, but that went bust as both my wife and I were home sick for the day. So we had to scramble to find a topic for tonight, and when we realized the kids needed a bath and they started to complain about doing so, this idea popped into my head: let's talk about being clean!

I remembered a story about a man named Joseph F. Smith, the nephew of the prophet Joseph Smith that was in one of the church manuals from a year or so ago that was about this very topic. Being unable to find my manual quickly enough, I simply did a google search for "i am clean" and voilà! In 15 seconds I had it -- the internet is so awesome. The particular rendition I found was from a talk by the current prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley. I quote from that article here:

Joseph F. Smith was the son of Hyrum Smith, who was the brother of the Prophet Joseph and was martyred with him in Carthage. Joseph F. was born at Far West, Missouri, on November 13, 1838. He came out of Missouri as an infant. As a lad not yet six years of age, he heard a knock on the window of his mother's home in Nauvoo. It was a man who had hurriedly ridden from Carthage and who told Sister Smith that her husband had been killed that afternoon.

When he was 9, he drove an ox team with his mother across the plains to this valley. At the age of 15 he was called on a mission to Hawaii. He made his way to San Francisco and there worked in a shingle mill to earn enough money to buy passage to the islands.

Hawaii was not a tourist center then. It was populated by the native Hawaiians, who were, for the most part, poor but generous with what they had. He learned to speak their language and to love them. While serving there he experienced a remarkable dream. I quote from his narrative concerning this. Said he:

"I was very much oppressed [when I was] on a mission. I was almost naked and entirely friendless, except [for] the friendship of a poor, benighted . . . people. I felt as if I was so debased in my condition of poverty, lack of intelligence and knowledge, just a boy, that I hardly dared look a . . . man in the face.

"While in that condition I dreamed [one night] that I was on a journey, and I was impressed that I ought to hurry—hurry with all my might, for fear I might be too late. I rushed on my way as fast as I possibly could, and I was only conscious of having just a little bundle, a handkerchief with a small bundle wrapped in it. I did not realize . . . what it was, when I was hurrying as fast as I could; but finally I came to a wonderful mansion. . . . I thought I knew that was my destination.

As I passed towards it, as fast as I could, I saw a notice [which read B-A-T-H], 'Bath.' I turned aside quickly and went into the bath and washed myself clean. I opened up this little bundle that I had, and there was [some] white, clean [clothing], a thing I had not seen for a long time, because the people I was with did not think very much of making things exceedingly clean. But my [clothing was] clean, and I put [it] on. Then I rushed to what appeared to be a great opening, or door. I knocked and the door opened, and the man who stood there was the Prophet Joseph Smith. He looked at me a little reprovingly, and the first words he said: 'Joseph, you are late.' Yet I took confidence and [replied]:

" 'Yes, but I am clean—I am clean!'

"He clasped my hand and drew me in, then closed the great door. I felt his hand just as tangible as I ever felt the hand of man. I knew him, and when I entered I saw my father, and Brigham [Young] and Heber [C. Kimball], and Willard [Richards], and other good men that I had known, standing in a row. I looked as if it were across this valley, and it seemed to be filled with a vast multitude of people, but on the stage were all the people that I had known. My mother was there, and she sat with a child in her lap; and I could name over as many as I remember of their names, who sat there, who seemed to be among the chosen, among the exalted. . . .

"[When I had this dream,] I was alone on a mat, away up in the mountains of Hawaii—no one was with me. But in this vision I pressed my hand up against the Prophet, and I saw a smile cross his countenance. . . .

"When I awoke that morning I was a man, although only [still] a boy. There was not anything in the world that I feared [after that]. I could meet any man or woman or child and look them in the face, feeling in my soul that I was a man every whit. That vision, that manifestation and witness that I enjoyed at that time has made me what I am, if I am anything that is good, or clean, or upright before the Lord, if there is anything good in me. That has helped me out in every trial and through every difficulty" (Gospel Doctrine, 5th ed. [1939], 542–43).

The core of that meaningful dream is found in the reproof given by Joseph Smith to young Joseph F. Said the Prophet, "Joseph, you are late."

Replied Joseph F., "Yes, but I am clean—I am clean!"

The result of that dream was that a boy was changed into a man. His declaration "I am clean" gave him self-assurance and courage in facing anyone or any situation. He received the strength that comes from a clear conscience fortified by the approbation of the Prophet Joseph.

I shared this story with the children, and they suddenly quit complaining about taking their baths. It was more interesting, however, to see them understand that I was talking not so much about being physically clean, but about being spiritually clean. They understood that we need to repent when we make mistakes and even though we may sometimes be "late", it is important to be clean when we finally do arrive at our Heavenly home.

It was a good lesson, but as soon as it came time to ask which of the kids were going to get into which shower or tub, they started fighting. *sigh* Funny how even in the act of getting clean, sometimes we get dirty ... and I wish that was something we could grow out of ...

I've Been Tagged Again

By my wife, of all people! So now I'm supposed to identify seven random facts about myself and then identify four other people to tag. Well, I guess the first random fact about me that I'll share is:

1) I detest chain letters and so-called email tagging. In this particular case, however, since it is my wife, I'll go ahead and humor her. (Love you, babe!) When it comes to email chain letters (you know, the kind that if you don't forward it on to everybody in your address book, a bus will fall off a bridge and kill your cat), no matter how well-intentioned, they always come off as being self-righteous and stupid.

2) In colege I got myself a b in technicul writin. I now firmly believe that english college profesors are dimwits. I done never met one who wasn't totally full of themselves with actual reason to. Being well-read is totally useless if you're personality have more flaws than this here paragraf.

3) I am the owner of a green car, which my wife and I call "El Guaco". The car is "guacamole" colored and it's name is a spin on "El Guapo" from the movie "The Three Amigos." I drive it to work nearly every day, and I quite enjoy doing so, even if it has the acceleration of a slug -- a pea green slug.

4) I actually like yard work. I especially like to mow the lawn. When I was a kid, I grew up hating it, but I made that chore into an art form by making patterns in the large and spacious grassy areas of my childhood home. Now I live in a house with only a small bit of grass and find that I somewhat miss the ability to make the patterns. In addition, I dig really well. In fact, whenever I'm talking to my kids about my talents, I always mention that I dig really well. For now, they think this is pretty cool. I also like to trim trees and take them out of the ground, even though it is usually miserable work.

5) I've read the Old Testament front-to-back 4 times, and I'm working on a 5th time. I'm reading towards the end of Job right now. I think it's the least appreciated and least understood body of scripture we have.

6) I love science fiction books and movies. I have a very soft spot for disaster movies, and enjoy watching the total mayhem. Oddly enough, however, I don't enjoy what some call "military sci fi" and I especially don't enjoy gore in the movies. I also have little patience for fantasy, which, in one of the most atrocious mistakes of the 20th century, has been literarily grouped in the same category with science fiction. Such a categorization cheapens and weakens the appeal of true, "hard" science fiction.

7) Aside from activities related to my family, my job, and my church, I have no hobbies. What are these "hobby" things, anyway?

Looking back, this is a strange list indeed. It's pretty random, which I guess was the point. (There you go, my love!)

The Entire Family Is Sick

That's right. The entire family. This means that my wife, usually the anchor of our little family, is also struggling, so you should expect our house to undergo a supernova event sometime soon.

It actually started two weeks ago. My wife caught a light cold at that time, but managed to beat it back. It was mild and she thought she was in the clear. Then last Saturday, my oldest caught something that gave him a dry, hacking cough, mild headaches, and a slight runny nose. A the time, we thought it was the same thing as what my wife had. That Tuesday, my son ended up coming home early from school, and we kept him home on Wednesday; his cough was incessant.

Come Monday evening, I was showing similar symptoms, and they quickly got worse. I ended up taking two sick days from work, an extremely rare occurrence, but I was home from work since Tuesday (I worked from home when I felt up to it). My symptoms manifested themselves as an exaggerated version of my son's -- without so much of the headaches.

Tuesday, my youngest had a runny nose, but the cough wouldn't come 'til Thursday. Wednesday, my daughter finally manifested symptoms, staying home from school Thursday and Friday.

Then the real blow to our family came last night. My wife, whom I had figured had navigated the shallow reefs of this sickness without running afoul, started showing symptoms last night. This dispelled two of our assumptions: that what the rest of the family had was the same thing she had two weeks ago, and that she would make it through without catching it.

It is typical for our family to pass any and all sicknesses around to each other, and in a way, this apparently quite contagious strain of ... whatever ... has done us a favor by getting us all sick simultaneously -- this way we shouldn't be passing it around and prolonging the misery.

Hopefully we'll all be over it and healthy by Christmas, assuming we don't catch something else. All the kids seem mostly better, though the cough is lingering for all of them, worst of all in my daughter. I feel somewhat better, but still tired and my cough is lingering, too.

So now my poor wife has to face up to this cold. She's supposed to sing two Christmas songs in church tomorrow, but she may not even be able to talk by then, let alone sing, if the cold progresses as it did for me. I'm hoping she beats it faster than I have been. She usually does; I think it's a Mommy superpower. Nevertheless, it's over-optimistic that she'll be okay for tomorrow, and I'm going to encourage her to plan accordingly.

The Stargate is Real!

Sorta. This is a tongue-in-cheek posting from a NASA watcher. I am a huge Stargate fan, so I got a kick out of it. Check it out.