Football

My first years of tackle football didn't go well. I played Little League in 7th and 8th grades and did not have much success or fun either year. In 7th Grade, my coach was Shane Watson and I believe John Hislop helped as well. There may have been others. The main thing I remember about that year was being terrified of the Tooele "A" Team. I'd scrimmage against the "B" Team all day long, but those "A" Team boys knew how to hit in a way I was not prepared for. I remember getting my first carry and getting creamed and I was done. Crying ensued. I was in 7th Grade and crying because the Tooele "A" Team hit too hard. I ended up disliking football so much that I missed the last game to go to a Scout campout. If you know me and my abhorrence of scouting and camping, you know this was an act of desperation.

I had no intention of playing in 8th grade, but John Ed Millward decided to coach the 8th grade team that year and actively recruited me. Finally, I relented and said I'd play. We were coached by John and several of his classmates (Cary Burr, Craig Ratcliffe, Kelly Clark, and Kirk Matthews are a few of the names I remember). We were not very good. Mrs. Burr (Cary's mother) was our English teacher and tried to motivate us one week for our upcoming game against Murray. She got up bright and early on a Saturday morning to come and watch us play. We got annihilated.

Another memory I have from that year was John Ed driving us all home after practices in his little pick-up (no idea where our parents were). I remember all of us sitting in the back and up on the sides and tailgate. On one occasion we got pulled over, but the cop just told us we needed to sit down in the bed rather than up on the sides or tailgate.

We lost every game but the last one. I don't remember what the score was exactly, but I believe I scored three touchdowns. It hadn't been a successful year, but at least we went out on a high note.

Despite the success of that final game, by the time the next season rolled around (our first year of high school football), I had decided that football wasn't for me. While most of my friends did play, my good friend George and I decided we were going to focus on basketball (this is getting ahead a little bit, but George and I would end up being two of the three from our class to be selected for 1st Team All-State for football our Senior year. The other was Ryan Keisel). My dad wanted me to play badly. Even after two-a-days were over, he took me over to talk to Paul Didericksen (who was part of the coaching staff at the time) about playing. I wavered a little, but ultimately declined.

Consequently, my one football-related memory from that year was betting the freshman team that they wouldn't beat Park City by four touchdowns and if they did, I'd let them cut my hair. Well, the team beat Park City by four touchdowns and came chasing after me as soon as the game ended. They held me down and got a few chunks cut out of my hair when I countered that I would buy everyone a shake, which they accepted. I later learned that John Hislop and another dad thought about upping the ante and offering to buy everyone two shakes to cut my hair, but in the end, they decided to let me off. We all walked down to Robin's from the high school and I bought everyone on the team a shake. As I recall, the Robin's workers weren't thrilled at having to make 20-30 shakes.

At some point over the next year, I decided I was back in on football. I went to 7-on-7 drills over the summer. I have one particular memory of defending my now brother-in-law Cam Jefferies (who is two years older than me and was headed into his Senior year) during 7-on-7 and him catching a pass but me being right there in position after the catch. Coach (Kevin) Butler said something like "You're lucky we're not in pads, Cam" to which Cam immediately retorted "When we're in pads, Mouritsen won't be here," which I can admit was a good comeback and one I deserved.

My Sophomore season ended up being a fun one. I started the year as the third-string tailback on the JV team, but ultimately found some success on the JV, and we only lost one game. Meanwhile, the varsity team would win GHS's first-ever State Championship that year, and I was able to take the field for a couple of plays in the State Championship game as part of the kickoff-return team. A very memorable year.

That year really boosted my confidence. While I didn't play a big role with the varsity team, I was part of the scout team and despite our "best in 2A" defense that year, I remember having some successful runs against our starting defense during practice. I decided I could be a football player.

When my Junior year came around I was ready. I intended to tell the story of that year in this post, but the lead-up ended up being longer than I thought it would be.

Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion...

Caleb

When Jeanell and I were married in May of 2000, she had three wonderful boys from her previous marriage. While I don't remember a specific discussion on the matter, I think we both thought we'd wait a little bit before adding more children to the equation. I had one more year to finish up my bachelor's degree at Utah State and I think we both thought we'd wait at least until I had finished my degree before having more kids.

We lived with Jeanell's parents the summer after we got married, and then in August we moved up to Logan into an apartment in Aggie Village (cinder block walls and no 220v outlet for a dryer, anyone?). Unlike the rest of you parents and your carefully planned families, we got caught up in the fun of the process that results in children and Jeanell became pregnant much earlier than we anticipated, which she announced by leaving the positive pregnancy test sitting on our dresser.

That winter was tough on everyone. The snow and cold were pretty harsh, even by Cache Valley standards. I'd moved Jeanell away from her family and friends for the first time in her life, got her pregnant right off the bat when she already had three little boys to take care of, and then began a busy year of work and school. (This wasn't quite as bad as my great-great-grandpa Mourits Mouritsen, who married two women on the same day in October of 1885, got one of them, my great-great-grandma, pregnant, and then within three weeks was off on a two-year mission to his homeland of Denmark, leaving his new wives to also care for his two daughters from his first marriage. It was a different time).

Despite the challenges of the intervening months, April rolled around and excitement over the birth of our new son was high. We were scheduled to drive down to LDS hospital in Salt Lake City on Thursday. April 12, 2001, and Jeanell was going to be induced (Jeanell's longtime obstetrician, John C. Nelson, was at LDS Hospital, which is why we made the trip to Salt Lake rather than staying in Logan). April 12 is my brother Brent's birthday and he was excited about his new nephew being born on his birthday.

We arrived in Salt Lake and as I recall, for one reason or another, the inducement was delayed. I believe we met Jeanell's dad and he took the boys with him so I was at the hospital with Jeanell's mom, Carol, and sister, Rachel. But somehow my family got the idea that all of the Jefferies were at the hospital and not wanting to be left out, suddenly showed up. My parents and five of my six siblings (I believe Alan was on his mission at the time) crowded into Jeanell’s hospital room. Scott even brought a date because anytime you can bring a girl you've been on a few dates with to the birth of your nephew you have to do it.

I didn't know how any of this worked and at one point, the nurses asked everyone to leave the room so that they could check how things were progressing. I was halfway out of the room, before they informed me that I was welcome to stay.

The night wore on and it became apparent that this was going to be a long process. Eventually, my parents and four younger siblings went home and when Caleb finally arrived at 3:57 AM on Friday, April 13, only Carol, Rachel, Scott, and Scott's date remained. I remember them handing Caleb to me for the first time and me trying to hold him, but I was preettty tired by that time. I think my head nodded a couple of times, which the nurses seemed not to notice, but Jeanell alerted them that they probably should take Caleb back from me for the time being.

And that's how my youngest son, Caleb, came into this world. Sure, he was born on Friday the 13th, but at least he had avoided sharing a birthday with his Uncle Brent.

When he was young and we lived in our first house in Ogden, I was working on my MBA from Weber State and Jeanell was alternating between working swing or overnights at Walmart. It was too difficult to do homework while trying to watch Caleb so I'd just go to bed with Caleb to get him to sleep and then wake up at 3 or 4 in the morning to do my homework.

Caleb loved Monster's Inc and was Sully one year for Halloween. Later, his Grandma Jefferies made him a Mike Wazowski cake, which he responded to with unbridled enthusiasm. I remember him finding some type of cheese sauce and dumping it all over himself. He loved the Johnny Depp version of Willy Wonka and learned all of the Oompa Loompa dances from that film.

I distinctly remember cutting Caleb's PB&J for him one day at our house in Ogden, and him becoming extremely upset. Not understanding what I had done wrong, I tried to get him to explain and finally figured out that he was upset because I didn't cut his PB&J the same way that Jeanell did. Jeanell cut the bread almost all the way through and then pulled the pieces apart, where I had just cut all the way through to begin with. Apparently, this was not acceptable.

Caleb learned at a young age that hitting his mom was not allowed, but he seemed to also learn that hitting his dad was fair game. Throughout his childhood, whenever he would get upset at Jeanell or be angry at something she was telling him, he would hit me. I don't know that I loved this system, but I guess I preferred it to him hitting Jeanell.

When he got a little older and we moved to Elwood, he first started to get into computers. He would play games on Club Penguin, but also built his own web page where he would display screen captures from Club Penguin and talk about the different games. We would give him activities and chores he needed to do to limit his screen time and he would go on runs and shoot baskets in the back yard. The chore that I remember giving him that he did faithfully was watering the trees along the back of our yard.

I don't remember exactly how old he was, maybe four or five, and we took a rode trip with some of the Jefferies family to Klamath Falls, Oregon to see Brian Regan. We drove from Grantsville to Klamath Falls in an RV, which was a 13+ hour adventure in itself. Upon arriving, Caleb was told that the condo we were staying in had a hot tub. He had already changed into his swimsuit and was sprinting out to the back patio where the hot tub was, not realizing that the sliding glass door was still closed. He slammed into the door at full speed. Fortunately, at his size, he did not break the door, but was merely knocked down, giving us all a good laugh.

I coached his Junior Jazz basketball team for many years, where he was always one of my better players, but we didn't always see eye to eye.

When we moved to Grantsville and he started high school, he got more involved in online gaming, and met friends that he has now been gaming with for several years. He met many of them last summer when they all met up where some of them lived in Wisconsin.

I don't know that Caleb loved running, but with his mom's and my encouragement, and his Uncle Scott (Mouritsen) coaching, he ran cross-country all four years of high school. He earned the nickname "Controversial Caleb" when he opined in a class that fruit-based ice creams were "crap."

Since turning 21, he has become the family bartender and enjoys mixing drinks for others in the family. We took him to Keys on Main (a piano bar in downtown Salt Lake City) a year or so ago and he had gone to use the restroom, and came out just as they started playing Bohemian Rhapsody. He ran back to our table and sang every word with a huge smile on his face. Relatedly, he's always a willing participant in our family Karaoke nights.

One of my favorite things about Caleb is the special relationship he has with his little sister Lila, who is almost eight years younger.

He's been working on a bachelor's degree in Computer Science and plans to finish it up next spring.

I love Caleb and am so grateful to have him in my life.

Meeting Jeanell

I grew up (at least from the age of six) in the small (at the time) town of Grantsville, Utah. When I grew up, there was one elementary school (K-4), one middle school (5-8) and one high school (9-12). What this meant in practice is that while of course some kids moved away (Ryan S (winner of the 5th grade 5K with a bit of an assist from Justin W, as I recall), Billy M, Casey W) and some moved in (Travis T, Kim H, Rhett B), by and large my entire school career was spent with the same 100 or so kids. Jeanell was one of those 100.

While we were in the same grade for 12 years, my early memories of Jeanell are few and far between. I have a vague memory of talking to her and her good friend Shelly Larson (now Matthews) at the Grantsville City Park, near or on the swing set, but I can't really place when that happened and if that was the first time I met her or I had already known her.

My first definitive memory of Jeanell was when we were in the same class for the first time. We both had Mrs. Mikelson (whose husband Bill was the head football coach at GHS at the time. Bill was recently inducted into the Utah High School Sports Hall of Fame). The one memory I have of Jeanell from that year is her coming to school one day and announcing that she had had a dream that we were all at a dance and she was telling each of us who we were dancing with at the dance. Sadly, as I recall, I was not who she was dancing with in her dream. I also remember that she was not one of the girls who stomped on my fingers as I attempted to scale the High Tower at recess, causing me to fall. I guess that's a plus.

(In this day and age, it is hard to believe that in the mid-80s, we had a playground toy that was just a tall platform, just high enough to get seriously injured if you fell from it. Fortunately for me, I did not fall from the top of the platform, but from the chain ladder that allowed you to ascend the platform with my outstretched hands at the level of the bottom of the platform. Not so fortunately, I did flip backwards with my feet staying entangled in the ladder and landed mostly on my face. It was the last day before Christmas break and I believe by the time we came back to school I was mostly healed).

The next time our paths crossed was when we were both in Mr. Camp's 6th grade glass at Grantsville Middle School. Incidentally, this is Jeanell's first memory of me. I don't really have any other memories about her from that year. I just know that we were in that same class together.

I didn't really get to know Jeanell until she started dating my good friend Dave our freshman year of high school. That's also when we started having more boy-girl parties and Jeanell hosted many of those at her house on Deseret Circle. A few memories stand out from that time period.

The first is that our group of friends put together a number for the annual Lip-Sync Assembly. I can't remember what other songs we discussed, but we finally landed on Madonna's Vogue for our number and recruited our classmate Greta Griffiths, who we all had nicknamed Madonna, to take the central role. I didn't then nor do I now know the words to that song so I'm not sure how I lip-synced to it. I don't remember much of the choreography, but I do remember we all wore white gloves and that at one point in the song we attempted to put our hands together to form a giant "V", but we weren't as precise as we needed to be and it ended up looking more like a "U", or maybe even just a smile. We didn't win. (My brother-in-law Cam, who is two years older than Jeanell and I, and his friends did an epic lip-sync to "Bohemian Rhapsody" that same year. I'm pretty sure they won).

I can't remember if it was at one of the rehearsals for "Vogue" or at a different gathering at Jeanell's house, but I do remember that on one occasion, a few of us guys had found the hoop shoot game on the east side of their house and began playing it, seeing who could get the best score. At some point, Jeanell made her way over and wanted to take a turn. Soon after the timer started, our jaws dropped, as the only thing more impressive than the speed with each she was able to rebound the ball and fire off another shot, was the remarkable consistency that each shot richoceted perfectly off the backboard and through the hoop. She handily beat all of our scores, at which point I think we decided to do something else, rather than be humiliated further.

My final memory is from a party at Jeanell's house. At that time in my life, there were three songs I knew how to play on the piano, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata (like my dad),  The Righteous Brothers' Unchained Melody, and the song that was most associated with me, the theme from Cheers. Whenever I was somewhere where there was a piano, sooner or later I would be sitting at it and playing one, or more likely all, of the songs I knew, and probably more than once. Where I only knew three songs, I'm sure this got old for my friends, but I didn't seem to mind.

Jeanell's family had a piano in their front room and so sure enough, as we were all over there for her party, I eventually made my way to the piano and began to play. At some point, my buddy Aaron came and grabbed my shoulders and pulled me backward, tipping the piano bench onto its back legs. As it turns out, there's a reason that piano benches sit on four legs, because as soon as it went back on two legs, they snapped. I remember Jeanell's mother Carol hearing the commotion and coming down to see what was going on. She's a wonderful pianist and I'm sure was none too pleased that we had broken the legs on her piano bench, but she of course didn't outwardly display any anger.

I always felt bad about it. Some time after that, Jeanell and I started dating and I remember every time I went to her house I would see a chair sitting in front of the piano and remember that I had broken the bench (or at least played a part in breaking it). Even several years later, when we started dating again my junior year of college, I believe there was still a chair at the piano. I don't remember exactly, but I don't think it was until after Jeanell and I were married that Carol got a new piano (and bench).

Looking back, we didn't really have a whole lot of interaction until high school, and even then, I don't have a lot of memories of our interactions our freshman and sophomore years. That would change when we started dating at the end of our sophomore year. But that's a story for another time.

I am first on the left in the third row. Jeanell is third from the left in the front row (wearing her Dallas shirt that she probably got from Uncle Scott).

Neighbors

This last Sunday, I noticed some cracking in the ceiling of my garage. We've lived in our current home longer than any other home we've lived in (we've purchased three homes in our married lives, we bought a home in Ogden, where we lived from 2002 to 2006, then a home in Elwood, where we lived from 2006 to 2013, and now we've been in our current home since 2015), so this was a new experience for me and I wasn't sure if this was indicative of some kind of problem or just a normal part of home ownership.

I texted my neighbor Rob on Monday.

Me: Hey Rob, sorry to bother you. I noticed this in my ceiling in my garage and just don't know how big of a concern it is. Any thoughts?

Rob: Hmm, looks like cracking. I can take a look tonight when I get home.

That evening, right after dinner, Rob was at my door, along with his son Zach, who just got his general contractor license. They came into the garage, surveyed the damage, and quickly reassured me that they had dealt with the same thing at their house and that it was most likely just part of normal house settling.

That was really all I was looking for, was whether or not it was a problem, but Rob and Zach wouldn't leave it at that. They insisted they could fix it. Within a few minutes, Zach was in my attic with a flashlight and other tools and Rob had brought over his saw along with a few boards of various lengths. In no time at all, they had cut a board to the needed length, attached it to a truss in the attic, and then screwed the drywall on the ceiling into the bottom of the board. When they came into the house to get into the attic, they saw that we had something similar in our kitchen ceiling and insisted they could fix that too. Zach has been back a few times this week, to apply plaster and texture it to complete the repair.

This is far from the first time Rob has come to my rescue.

Feb 1, 2018

Me: Hey Rob, are you around? Can you call me if convenient?

Our downstairs shower was stuck with the water on and we weren't really sure what to do about it. We had also stripped out the screw on the faucet trying to get it off because we didn't have an allen wrench of the right size. Rob was headed to a basketball game, but came over, helped us cut the faucet off and told us the part we needed to get and replace to fix the problem.

Nov. 18, 2019 (9:13 PM)

Me: Sorry to bother you so late. Are you around? Do you have a 1" crescent wrench?

I think this was just a running toilet, a problem with the flapper. The old flapper had to be cut off in order to replace it. Rob was over within ten minutes, helping me fix the problem. If I recall correctly, he also bought us a new flapper the next day at Home Depot (he just happened to need to go there anyway, or at least that was his story).

May 13, 2020

Me: Are you home? If you have a minute, I have another problem in my backyard and could use some advice.

Rob: I am on my way home still, I should be home shortly. Absolutely, I would love to come over and help. What is it in regards to? Drip lines? Sprinklers? Or do you need me to dig a hole?

(As Nate Bargatze says, digging a hole is impossible, and here Rob is offering to dig one without even being asked).

Oct 10, 2021

Me: I'm sorry to bother you on the Sabbath. Do you happen to be home?

Rob: Yes, I am home.

Me: Ok if I call you?

Rob: Yes

I don't even remember what this one was about, but I know that whatever it was, Rob helped me with it.

May 5, 2023 (9:22 PM)

Me: Hey Rob, are you home? And awake?

Rob: I am awake, but I'm not home. I'm on my way home. I should be there in about 25 minutes. What's up?

Me: Can I call you?

Rob: You bet!

I had had some topsoil delivered on the road in front of my house and was worried about someone not seeing it and running into it. Rob helped me put some reflectors on the pile so people would be able to see it.

Rob, his wife Jenny, and his whole family have been wonderful neighbors to us over the years. Hopefully everyone has the opportunity to have a neighbor like Rob.

As I've been thinking about the blessing Rob and his family have been to us over the years, I've also thought about other neighbors I've had in my life.

I can't talk about neighbors without mentioning my "neighbors to the south" for the past nearly nine years. We live next-door to my brother/brother-in-law and Jeanell's sister/sister-in-law and their kids. Though with each of our busy lives, we don't interact and spend as much time together as you might think, they are always there for us when we need them and I love having them so close. Our backyards are adjoining with no fence in between and I love that our kids (the self-proclaimed "doubins", for double cousins) can and frequently do go back and forth between houses through our backyards. I love hearing a knock at the backdoor, opening it up, and seeing Cate there to inquire if Nellie is home.

One of my favorite memories was when Emma (my niece who is the same age as my daughter Lila) was over late one night as they were waiting for Mr. (Matt) Price to send the email for the casting for the production of the musical "Freaky Friday" that they were going to be a part of at their school (Excelsior Academy). It got to be after 11:00 and they finally gave up and decided the email wasn't going to come that night and Emma left to go home, through the backyard. Ten seconds after she left, the email came, and Lila sprinted out, with Emma sprinting back, meeting in the backyard and opening the email together excitedly. Lila was cast as the mother and Emma as the daughter. They were so happy.

Who knows what life will bring, but I hope that we are next-door neighbors for many years to come. 

In Elwood, we lived next to Kirk and Vickie Day. Kirk had built the house we lived in as a spec home and was always there to help us out in any way we needed. He poured our back patio and a basketball court in our backyard (at a heavily discounted rate). He helped me put together and install the basketball hoop I bought for our court. He would plow the snow in front of our house with his tractor. He helped me numerous times with water getting into our basement.

And of course there are the neighbors we had at the home I grew up in on Eastmoor Drive. Tom Tripp and Lyle Lawton have been our neighbors for years and have helped us in so many ways over the years. Tom puts up and takes down my mom's Christmas lights (among many other things) and Lyle recently helped my brothers and me put down plastic and rock in the flowerbeds between the wall and the sidewalk north of my mom's house. Lyle is over 80. I remember Lynn Young (who lived behind us on Main Street in my younger years) fixing our old Blue Bomb years ago.

My dad went to prison for a year (maybe at some point I'll get into that story, but I won't go into details here) when I was a junior in high school. There are two people in particular I remember helping us at that time (though I know there were many).

Jerry Aldridge would take care of our cars and make sure they were running well. When we would be planning a trip to visit Dad (he was at Nellis Air Force Base near Las Vegas), Jerry would come and make sure the Komfort Koach (the big blue van we drove at that time) was ready for the trip.

But maybe the most selfless neighbor we had was Warren Archer, who lived next-door to the south (along with his wife Edwina and mother Mildred).  Warren would participate in hikes to Deseret Peak well into his 70s, often wearing shorts that some might describe as a tad too short.

When my dad went to prison, Warren, who was already retired at the time, worked the job my dad had prior to going to prison in order to hold it for him when he got back, and gave the earnings from that job to my mom to help pay the bills. Like Rob, Warren also knew how to fix anything. I didn't live at home at the time, but a favorite story my brother Kevin has related was how some kind of leak sprang in our basement bathroom and Kevin was trying to stop it and yelled to Brent and McKell (my two youngest siblings), "Go get Warren!"

In the age of social media, I find it easy to get caught up in the things we don't agree on. Our differences in beliefs on politics, religion, etc. can make us feel divided. But I think we need to remember that people our generally good and our willing to go out of their way for the benefit others. So grateful for good neighbors.

Zach is to the right of me and Rob is kneeling on the right.

Big Fish

As is probably clear by now, I have no real organization or plan of what I am going to write about each week.  While I have several draft posts of topics I could and at some point would like to write about, a lot of what I write for a particular week is based on events that happen and give me inspiration (if you can call it that) of something I could write about.

This week has been spent primarily attending my daughter Lila's performances at Centerpoint Legacy Theatre. If you haven't seen the musical, or the 2003 film starring Ewan MacGregor and Albert Finney, it's about a father who has always told wild and impossible stories about his life and about his son, who is skeptical of the stories, who is trying to understand his father as his father is dying from cancer. It's a wonderful show with many wonderful themes and messages about living life and the relationships we develop. If you haven't seen the musical, I highly recommend seeing it if given the opportunity.

As I've seen the show multiple times this past week, it's caused me to think about my own father, who passed away a little over two years ago. I've thought about the stories of his life that he shared with me, about the relationship we had, and about the legacy he left behind  While my dad's stories were not as exaggerated and improbable as those of Edward Bloom (the main character of Big Fish), they shared a love of puns and dumb jokes, and like Edward, my dad had a large personality and had an impact on many people that he encountered in his life.

Inspired by Big Fish, I want to share some of the stories my dad shared about his early life. Since my mom found a history my dad had written of his early life, I will quote some from him directly. Others, I will share to the best of my recollection.

Gasoline

"For some reason I developed a great love for the smell of gasoline. I was known for going around in the church parking lot, and opening the gas tanks just to get a whiff of that good, fresh gasoline. Because we lived on a farm and had great demand for gasoline to run the farming operations, we had a five hundred gallon tank just directly north and west of our house. On top of that tank was the opening through which the gasoline was put when the big trucks would come. Well, my love for that smell led me to the top of our big five hundred gallon tank, and having removed the cap I placed myself in a prone position with my nose inside the cap area and began to enjoy those beautiful fumes. The next thing I remember, I was in the doctor's office and was told that I had done something very foolish, and if it hadn't been for my mother, I probably would have died. Apparently by mother had been prompted to come out of the house. She came out back, saw me on top of the tank and knew immediately that I had passed out. She climbed up and pulled me off the tank and rushed me to the doctor. I have always admired the spiritual awareness that my mother possessed in being sensitive to the still, small voice and being able to respond to that voice in times of need."

Archery

"When I was a little older, I think I was seven or eight, I borrowed by brother's bow and arrow, and in the fall of the year, went out into the cornfield to practice my archery abilities. I would shoot the arrow and then retrieve it, and then shoot it again and retrieve it. After doing this for some time I began to tire and so I would (aim) the arrow higher so it would land closer so I wouldn't have to walk as far to retrieve it. Eventually I found myself shooting the arrow straight into the air. On one such mighty thrust, the arrow went up and seemingly disappeared. I could not see it and I stood there waiting for it to come back. Suddenly the arrow hit the bill of my ball cap and landed in an upright position between my feet. Had that arrow been over closer to me by a matter of inches, I would not be here today to tell this story."

Milking

As my dad got a little older, he began to work for neighboring farmers to bring additional income for his family. He tells of being kicked in the head by a particular cow because he had neglected to put the hobbles on her and that after being knocked into the gutter would have again been killed (I'm detecting a pattern) if the next cow over had stepped back at that moment.

"Another time, Paul (my dad's brother) and I were working for a fellow by the name of Arnold Troseth. We had an open house up at school one night, and mother had to come to get us from milking the cows for Brother Troseth. When she came, it was decided that I would clean up and Paul would feed, but I thought that I was to feed and he would clean up. Well, as it ended up, both of us fed and neither of us cleaned up, and we left that night without cleaning up. The next morning Brother Troseth called and wanted to know if something had happened. We said, 'No, there was no problem. Everything was fine.' And he said, 'Well, the reason I called was that when I went out this morning to milk the cows I found the milkers already on the cows and they have been there all night long.'"

Dixie

I remember Dad telling us about his girlfriend in junior high named Dixie, and how he made her a tape of him singing some song (we can't remember what the song was), but inserting her name into it. (No idea why he would do something like this). Somehow or other my grandpa got a hold of the tape and my dad said Grandpa would listen to it and laugh until tears rolled down his cheeks.

Basketball

In high school, my grandpa told my dad that he would be unable to play basketball because the family needed him to work. Because he loved basketball, my dad begged and begged Grandpa to let him play, and finally he relented, but not until try-outs were over. So my dad went to the coach and begged and begged to be allowed to try-out, and finally the coach relented, and my dad made the team. But then, Grandpa came back and said he was sorry, but the family needed his income and he would have to quit. Dad went and dejectedly told the coach, who had allowed him to try-out late, that he would be unable to play after all.

The Car

After my dad and my Uncle Paul had left for college, my Uncle Paul at some point bought a car. For some reason, my dad took the car home, which was the first time my grandpa saw it. My dad's family had always owned Volkswagens and this car was not a Volkswagen and my grandpa was not happy. He began to chew out my dad, with my dad unable to even get a word in in. Finally, my dad blurted out "Dad! I didn't buy it! Paul did!" to which my grandpa replied "I don't care! He's your brother!" To my dad's recollection and knowledge, Grandpa never said anything about it to Paul.

These are just a few stories from my dad's early years that I remember him telling us over the years. Seeing Big Fish made me remember some of these stories and think about my dad and our relationship. While we maybe weren't as close as we could have been, or in retrospect, as close as I wish we'd been, I certainly loved him, and he was a great dad to me. Sometimes I'll say things to my own kids and I can totally hear my dad saying the same thing and in the same manner.

I'll end with some lyrics from my favorite song from Big Fish, How It Ends:

I know I wasn't perfect
I know my life was small
I know that I pretended that
I knew it all
But when you tell my story
And I hope somebody does
Remember me as something
Bigger than I was

I love you Dad.

It's a Musical!

I am not a talented musician. I can somewhat carry a tune (but don't ask me to harmonize) and I used to be able to play 3-4 songs on the piano (Cheers, Unchained Melody, and like my dad, Moonlight Sonata). But despite my lack of musical talent, I have always enjoyed musicals, whether movies or on the stage.

My earliest memory of a musical that I liked was the much-maligned Popeye movie musical starring Robin Williams and Shelly Duvall with such memorable hits as "I Will Gladly Pay You Tuesday..." and "I Am What I Am." I liked it so much that my parents bought an 8-Track (yes, I'm old) of the soundtrack.

I also have memories of Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music movie versions. The memory is pretty vague, but I believe my dad (and if I recall correctly, just my dad) took me to a stage version of The Sound of Music. And if I had to guess where it was playing, I'd guess Pioneer Memorial Theatre. I don't know that I have it anymore, but it seems that I had the playbill of that performance for years afterward, with white flowers (edelweiss) on the cover.

Another fond memory from my early years is my dad receiving two cassette tapes of soundtracks for either Father's Day or his birthday. He opened the first (Fiddler on the Roof) and began singing "If I Were a Rich Man." As he opened the second, he thought it was something other than what it was and began singing a song from that show (I can't for the life of me remember what it was), but as he finished opening and saw what it was immediately transitioned into "Oooooklahoma! Where the wind comes sweeping down the plain." We listened to those two soundtracks, as well as The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, and The Music Man throughout my childhood. In particular, I remember listening to "(Ya Got) Trouble!" from The Music Man over and over in my room, trying to memorize it and to "I Could've Danced All Night" from My Fair Lady while trying to fall asleep.

In high school, I joined the Esteem Team (a theatre/anti-drug organization at our school) and through that class and its incomparable leader, Bill Green, expanded my horizons as far as musical theatre was concerned. The first show I remember seeing was Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at The Grand Theatre. I was mesmerized. It was the greatest thing I had ever seen. The following summer, I saw Les Miserables for the first time at Capitol Theatre and immediately fell in love (it remains my favorite musical).

Some of the shows I remember seeing in high school: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and Into the Woods (both at the Grand and my first introduction to Sondheim, whose music and lyrics I grew to adore), Evita, Little Shop of Horrors, and Man of La Mancha at Pioneer Memorial, and Cats at Capitol (my and Jeanell's first date). The Esteem Team also traveled to Las Vegas and saw Andrew Lloyd Webber's Starlight Express.

While in high school, all of the CDs I purchased were Broadway soundtracks. I reasoned that the other music I liked (mostly country at the time) I could hear on the radio, so if I was going to spend money on music I should spend it on music I couldn't find on the radio. From that I was introduced to the concept albums for Jekyll and Hyde and The Scarlet Pimpernel by Frank Wildhorn. My dad fell in love with the song "Til You Came Into My Life" from the Jekyll and Hyde concept album (it didn't end up in the finished show) and my brother Brent sang that song at his funeral.

Due to my limited musical talents I have only actually been in a few musicals. My senior year of high school, the inestimable Matt Price directed a production of Shenandoah and I was cast as one of the brothers (my actual brother Scott and good friend George were two of my brothers in the show). Later, in May following my sophomore year of college (1999), I was in a production of Joseph at the Ivy Garden (again as a brother, Zebulun). Finally, just a few years ago, I was in another production of Joseph (again as a brother, but this time Levi) at the Clark Farm (2017). So with all of the shows I have been in, I have always played a brother (I guess since I have five real-life brothers, they figured I could pick up playing a brother rather easily) and all three shows were directed by Matt Price.

In another strange twist of fate, when I was in Joseph in 1999, Jeanell's then brother- and sister-in-law were also in the cast and Jeanell attended one of the shows with her then-husband Brad and their oldest son Devin. I don't recall that we specifically interacted (though Jeanell remembers my mom telling Devin what a handsome boy he was), but later that summer, after her marriage had ended, we both attended a BBQ up South Willow Canyon with several of our high school classmates. Through that and a couple of other chance encounters, we began dating and were married the following May.

Musical theatre has continued to be a big part of our life. The first show I saw on Broadway was The Lion King (while on a trip with the Jefferies family adults). A few years later, we took our boys back and saw Wicked. And in recent years, we have made multiple trips, both just Jeanell and I and with various combinations of family. Some of the shows we've seen on Broadway: Hamilton (twice), Beautiful (twice), Waitress (thrice?), Dear Evan Hansen (twice), The Music Man (with Hugh and Sutton), Book of Mormon (twice), MJ (twice), Company (with Patti Lupone), Six (twice), Moulin Rouge (twice), Miss Saigon, Funny Girl (with Lea Michele), Sweeney Todd (twice), and probably a few others I am forgetting.

(A funny story about Sweeney Todd, the first time we saw it, we mistakenly bought the tickets for the wrong night. When we discovered our error, we felt we had no choice but to purchase tickets for the show we had been intending to attend, which we did, but when we arrived we discovered that we were on the second row, which sounds good, but in this particular theatre, the stage is elevated in a way that you can't see the whole stage from the second row. Lila was so frustrated by her inability to see that we bought her a ticket to come back by herself the following day. We would later find out that the tickets we had purchased are not sold by the theatre, but are only awarded to winners of their ticket lottery. Fortunately, we were able to get our money back).

While Broadway is wonderful and the talent is unsurpassed, I also enjoy attending local and community theatre shows. We've had season tickets to Centerpointe Theatre in Centerville the last few years. We've also seen The King and I, The Sound of Music, and Secret Garden at The Old Church in Grantsville, Guys and Dolls and Into the Woods by Lehi Performing Arts, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee by Sandy Arts, and Little Women and The Drowsy Chaperone at the Murray Amphitheatre.

Jeanell and I both grew up loving musical theatre and it's a love we've been able to share with our family. Whether it's the music, the lyrics, or the powerful messages conveyed, I hope that musical theatre will always play a big part of my life.

I'll end with a few YouTube clips of some favorites, the first for its comedy, and the other three for the important messages these songs convey.

Disclaimer: I don't find any of these songs particularly offensive, but everyone has their different standards, so if you find anything offensive, I apologize.

First, from Something Rotten: A Musical (the absurdity of musical theatre that we love)

Second, from The Drowsy Chaperone: As We Stumble Long (about the struggle of life and finding joy where we can).

Third, from Hello Dolly!: Before the Parade Passes By (the widow Dolly Levi explaining to her deceased husband that she needs to move on and live life while she can).

And finally, from Fly By Night (never on Broadway, but Off Broadway): Cecily Smith (about how life is not the things that we do, but who we're doing them with. This song hit me especially hard immediately after my dad's death).

Tyler and Brayden (The Twins)

I imagine it can be a challenge to be a twin. I'm sure it has its benefits as well, but I think it can be difficult to be appreciated individually when you're a twin. I'm sure there are twins who are very different in their likes, interests, personality, and even appearance, but that is not the case for our twins. All of this is a very long-winded way of saying that I wanted to write separate posts for Tyler and Brayden, but when I try to think how those posts would be different, I don't come up with a lot.

While not a twin, I can relate somewhat due to the similarities in appearance I have with my brothers. At times, I am greeted quite enthusiastically by people who I am quite certain I have never met in my life. One of my favorites was picking up some takeout at Casa del Rey a few years ago and the worker at the window, thinking I was my brother Scott (who she'd had as a teacher) said, "Hey! Good to see you! You look different." Another favorite is my Aunt Jacquie (who incidentally is herself a twin) calling my brother Carl "Scott" at a family Christmas party and when Carl corrected her, responding with "Does it matter?"

I still remember when I learned that my twins were going to be born. I was on a mission in Mexico City (this would have been late 1996 or early 1997) and my friend Ashley had organized a friend newsletter as several of us were on missions or otherwise apart following high school. In one of those newsletters, Ashley wrote "Jeanell found out what she is having! And it's not a girl and it's not a boy! In March, she will be giving birth to twins!" (Or something like that).

(One fun thing about two of your sons being born while you were a thousand miles away serving an LDS mission is the fun you can have with other missionaries you served with. I ran into a fellow Mexico City North missionary a few years later in Park City (incidentally, this missionary was the former boyfriend of my sister-in-law, Natalie (Jefferies) We were serving in the same zone when he received his Dear John, though we didn't put it all together until the night before we came home). The twins were with me and when I affirmed that they were mine, you could see the confusion on his face. He immediately began asking the twins how old they were as we walked away).

I wouldn't actually meet Tyler and Brayden until a few years later (when they were two in the fall of 1999). My earliest memory of them is playing football with them in the family room of the townhome where they were living. Several months later, just a couple of months after they turned three I would become their bonus dad.

Some early memories include them getting into Aunt Rachel's scrapbooking and cutting up a bunch of pictures when I was "watching" them, the way they'd both respond with "no, yuh!" when you asked them to do something or said something about them, the way they loved to dress up (Buzz and Woody, Spiderman and Batman, Merry and Pippin, Captain Hook and Smee), the terms and phrases they would come up with ("gray sky" to describe that time of day either before the sun comes up or after it's gone down, but it is light out or "wasted it" to refer to someone finishing the last of something).

The first year Jeanell and I were married, the twins (and Devin) called me "Richard." When Caleb was born, we encouraged them to start calling me "Dad" so that Caleb would learn to call me that rather than by my name, which they have done ever since. But I do remember in their younger years, when they were mad at me, they would revert to calling me "Richard." Or they would threaten to do so.

When we lived in Ogden and Tyler and Brayden were six or seven, they went around the neighborhood and stole the mail from several neighbors' mailboxes. We discovered the crime when random pieces of mail made their way into our house. I still remember collecting what was left and undamaged and walking around the neighborhood, returning what I could to the rightful recipients. I remember all were very nice about it, but one guy tried to tell me that he had been expecting cash from his grandma. I told him I hadn't seen anything like that. I never heard anything else about it so I guess either he was lying or it showed up.

As the boys got older, we bonded primarily over sports, whether watching, participating in, or playing the latest pro or college football or basketball game on the PlayStation or XBox. I used to record all the Jazz games and watch them fast later. One night, I was just sitting down to watch the latest game when I heard Tyler exclaim from downstairs "The Jazz lost!" I became unreasonably angry about having the outcome of the game revealed. Jeanell and the boys give me a hard time about it to this day. But it pretty much has broken me of trying to not learn the outcome of a game, intending to watch it later.

I had the privilege of coaching their Junior Jazz teams. We had several good teams over the years, but with subpar coaching, we only got so far and never captured an elusive championship. I also enjoyed watching them compete in baseball and football over the years.

When the twins were thirteen, they (and Devin) decided to move down to Grantsville (we lived in Elwood at the time) to live with their dad. That was a difficult adjustment for Jeanell and I, and probably in a different way, for the boys as well. At one point, Brayden decided he was going to move back to Elwood and live with us again. I took a day off of work and drove down to Grantsville and spent the day helping Brayden get things squared away with school so that he was ready to transfer back to Bear River. This was on a Friday and I drove back home with the plan of coming back to get him on Sunday. But then he changed his mind. I wasn't thrilled at the time, but I think it was the right decision. And I wouldn't have wanted he and Tyler to be split up. I remember he texted me and apologized, and thanked me for coming down and helping him get his grades up in some classes. That meant a lot.

As adults, we have made many wonderful memories with Tyler and Brayden. We've been to four College Football Playoff Semifinal games (Ohio State vs Clemson twice, Alabama vs Cincinatti, and TCU vs Michigan). We've been to see both the Lakers and Clippers play the Warriors in Crypto.com/Staples. On March 11, 2020 we drove to LA to watch Lebron and the Lakers play the next day. News about Covid was ramping up and so we were following the news throughout the trip, hoping the game wouldn't be canceled. Right as we got to the hotel in LA, we got the news that Rudy Gobert had tested positive for Covid and the NBA was suspending the season. We spent the night in LA and then drove back home the next day (we talked about maybe going to Universal Studios, but I was pretty nervous at the time and convinced Jeanell and the twins that we needed to just go back home).

This last September, we took them to New York, saw a few plays, and attended the Men's Final of the U.S. Open where Djokovic defeated Medvedev in straight sets. It was a great experience, but Brayden (and to a lesser extent Tyler) were upset that Medvedev didn't provide a better match (they'd been hoping for Alcaraz).

One of my favorite parts of these road trips is the opportunity it gives us just to talk. We have different opinions in many areas, and these trips have stimulated great discussion on a variety of topics. Tyler and Brayden help me to see other perspectives and to question my own paradigms. I love the talks we are able to have.

I'm so grateful for Tyler and Brayden and so glad that they came into my life those many years ago.

Dave

My first best friend was David Fawson. When my family moved to Grantsville in 1983, his cousins, the Johansens, lived next door to us on Eastmoor. (Deana Johansen is Big Dave Fawson's twin sister). Our friendship, like I assume many other male friendships, started with a fight. While I don't have any memory of what the fight was about, I do remember wrestling with Dave on the lawn in front of his cousins' house. I don't remember if Dave's dog at the time (Big Zack, I believe) was present on that occasion, but if he was, it's a wonder that I wasn't bitten.

I don't remember how that initial fight transitioned into friendship, but I do know that through Elementary School and into Middle School we were always together.

Building hay forts in Grandpa Vern's haystacks behind their house, exploring Grandpa Vern's fields and catching minnows and leeches in the ponds, investigating some beehives in the fields a little too closely and both being stung a few times, playing basketball on a mini hoop down in the dance room while watching Jazz playoff games, making elaborate "Turkey Delight" sandwiches (I don't remember all of the ingredients, but do remember that they included sauteed onions), helping Grandpa Vern deliver a baby calf, helping Grandpa Vern reshingle the roof of the barn (I remember Grandma Ina writing us each a check for our help on that occasion, paying Dave $15 since he had helped more and me getting $10. We were both thrilled), roller-skating at the Elementary school, Nintendo and spending hours playing Super Mario Bros, sleep-overs, Little Zack, Sunshine Generation, being in the same class at school (at least for 1st and 2nd Grade, when we had Mrs. Baird and Mrs. Syndergaard, respectively), watching BYU football games together, and many, many more.

As we grew older and new friendships entered the picture, we didn't always stay as close. I remember at some point in Middle School he had brought some new friends over. I was there as well, but was feeling left out. I remember crying and being consoled by Barb (Dave's mom).

In High School, we continued to play sports together, but also dated the same girl (yes, Jeanell. Dave dated her first. In what now is hilarious, on New Year's Eve 1992, the three of us ended up together, with me driving them around Grantsville as midnight struck. Of the three of us, I was the one who did not get a kiss at midnight). That put a strain on the friendship for a while, at least. But time went on, and we became friends again.

Dave was always the life of the party. He was the Student-body President and did such a great job. He had so many ideas for how to make school better and led many assemblies and other activities. His humor and enthusiasm always leaves you feeling better about things.

These days, he is my one classmate who I can always count on to show up at the Alumni Basketball Tournament. And even though we aren't quite as good as we once were, there's nothing quite like playing basketball together with good friends.

Last summer, Dave and I along with some other friends (George and Kimi and Kimberly) hiked to Deseret Peak and that was a great chance to be able have some great conversations and catch-up in a way we hadn't been able to in many years.

Finally, just a couple of weeks ago, I reached out to Dave because I needed some carpet stretched in some rooms. Dave showed up, helped me move furniture, stretched the carpet, fixed the carpet on our stairs that the cats ruined, and provided great conversation. And then when we realized our closet also needed the carpet stretched, he came back and took care of that as well.

Dave has been a great friend throughout my life and I'm so glad we're still in touch and see each other.

Slapping My Best Friend

 A few weeks ago, I got a call from my good friend, Aaron Allred. In fact, while I have many good friends, whom I love and care about, if I was forced to name my one best friend (my wife excepting, of course), it would have to be Aaron. Even though we haven't lived near each other for many years, we talk regularly, and try to get together whenever he's in town. That was the purpose of this call. His niece was getting married and he'd be in Grantsville a couple of weeks hence. Would I be available for a Saturday morning run?

That's usually the form that our get-togethers take. Since when he visits, it's usually for specific family event, and I have my own activities and responsibilities, it's often not possible to get together in the evenings. But we seem to usually be able to schedule time for a run early (but not too early) on Saturday morning.

This time would be no different. I was planning to run some miles (7) that morning anyway, so it worked out well. At 8 AM sharp (well maybe a few minutes after because I hadn't accounted for The Willow / Durfee intersection being shut down and had to go back and around) I met him at his parents' house and we took a run around Grantsville. West on Durfee to West Street, then north to Clark, east to Hale, north again to North Street (Grantsville has a North Street, a South Street, a West Street, but no East Street, but it does have an Eastmoor Drive), then east to Maple, south back to Clark, east to Bowery, south to Main, west to Willow, and south back to his parents'. This was a little over five miles, but Aaron had to get back to get ready for the wedding (don't worry, I ran another couple to get in my seven).

While we run, our conversation spreads over many different topics, our families, politics, religion, Grantsville (who currently owns the Drugstore and the BlueBird and if they might be willing to sell), and many other things. On this run, we talked about our friendship. I mentioned that I thought it was interesting that even though we'd grown up in the same small town and had obviously known who each other was for most of our lives (I definitely knew who Aaron was, he was the tall kid who got to be both the Ring Master in the 1st Grade Circus and the Nutcracker in The Nutcracker. I had to settle for a lowly Hippity-Hop and the Mouse King), we hadn't become good friends until our Sophomore year of High School.

In fact, our one interaction I could recall before then was a negative one. My best guess is that we were probably in the Sixth Grade. We were playing touch football at lunch and as time was running out and the score was tied, I urged the other people on my team not to rush the opposing quarterback on this next play. The opposing quarterback was another Aaron (Sweat) and he was very fast. And if we rushed, that meant he could then run, and would likely score a touchdown.

Well that was exactly what happened. Nobody rushed initially, but eventually Aaron (Allred) rushed, Aaron (Sweat) took off running, eluded the rest of our team, and scored. I, who admittedly was overly competitive as a child, was not happy. As we headed back into school after the bell rang, I got in Aaron's face, wanting to know why he rushed when I had said not to (like I was the coach or something) and that he'd caused us to lose the game. Aaron, who was always more laid-back than I was, didn't understand what the big deal was (a much more rational response) and told me as much. I think there was maybe a couple of light shoves and then I up and slapped him across the face. Aaron rightfully mocked me. As I recall he said something like "Oh, you're real cool. You can slap. Can I shake your hand?" I don't remember anything else about the interaction, but obviously we did not leave that confrontation as friends.

But once we became friends again in high school, we were basically inseparable. I spent as much time at the Allred house as I did at my own. We played sports together, did comedy sketches together for different assemblies, double-dated, many movie nights and sleep-overs (Rocky, Star Wars, Back to the Future, Big Trouble in Little China).

My first kiss came on a night when we pulled the old "telling each of our parents that we were sleeping over at the other's house" scam. That ended up being foiled when someone called my house late that night and asked if I was there and my parents took that to mean that something was amiss and my dad came looking for me. As it turned out, we had left the girl's house where we were just in time and got back to my house before my dad found us somewhere else. But I'll never forget pulling into my driveway and seeing my mom sitting in the living room, waiting for us. We lied and said we'd been at Aaron's and left to come to my house and sleep out on the trampoline. The kiss actually happened later that night on my trampoline when the girls we'd been with sneaked over to my house in the middle of the night. And yes, for those wondering, Jeanell was the girl I kissed. I'll let the other girl, who Aaron was dating at the time, remain anonymous.

Aaron thought that the reason we became really good friends once we became friends is that we had similar interests and a similar sense of humor. That's probably true, but another part of it is just that Aaron is a really good guy. He was always someone that everyone liked to be around. He tolerated my intensity and helped me to be a little more relaxed.

A few years ago, I went back east to visit Aaron and attend a BYU football game with him. A couple of things stand out from that trip.

The first is that I flew into Nashville late on a Friday night and we went downtown to get something to eat. I remember going to a restaurant and as the hostess was telling us some of the specials, told us about a particular dish that cooked for eight hours. In near unison, we both said "Oh, well we don't have eight hours." cracking ourselves up by both making the same lame/hilarious joke. We didn't get back to Aaron's house until 2 AM (Jeanell still teases me about that because I am not really a night-owl, so she calls this version of me "Tennessee Rich", but I am quick to point out that due to the time difference it was really only midnight Mountain Time, but now as I think about it, it might have been 1 AM Mountain Time (I can never remember if Nashville is Eastern or Central, but I think it's Central)).

The other thing I remember about that trip is that we went to the BYU pre-game and I was amazed at the number of people there who both knew Aaron and wanted to talk to him. I know the dynamics of BYU fans / members of the Church are a little different in Tennessee, but it was still just amazing to me the number of people who came up to talk to Aaron while we tried to chat and eat our pulled-pork sandwich.

Aaron is one of the good ones. Someone I look up to (both literally and figuratively). Grateful for our 30+ year friendship that I'm sure will continue throughout our lives.

Late-night Cat Vomit

 As you may have heard, we have cats. And not just one or two cats, but four. And sometimes those cats (especially one in particular) vomit. And that's just part of life when you have four cats. Just like emptying the litter box every morning and vacuuming up oodles of cat hair. You just clean it up and move on with your life.

So Jeanell and I are in bed the other night and I'm starting to drift off. It's a little before 11 and I had been reading and falling asleep a little bit and now I had put my book away and was within minutes of drifting off to peaceful slumber. Suddenly, we hear the unmistakable sound of the cat vomiting. And to make matters worse, the sounds are definitely coming from under our bed. Where I'm almost asleep, I'm all for dealing with it the next day, but not Jeanell.

In what now seems like a surreal dream, the mattress is off the bed (no easy feat). Then the box springs are tipped so we can get underneath, and an assortment of blankets and boxes that were stored underneath are moved out of the way. Now Jeanell's in the kitchen, getting hot water and Pine-Sol, along with the special pet cleanup spray. She gets the vomit cleaned up, but now she's in high gear. She gets the vacuum and now she's vacuuming (my job is to hold the canister). It's now 11:15, maybe 11:30. Lila stumbles in and asks what is happening. "We're vacuuming," I tell her. She goes back to bed. Jeanell finishes the vacuuming, we replace the items that were under the bed, put back the box springs and mattress, and by 11:45 are back in bed, this time for good.

For me, that story perfectly illustrates Jeanell and her boundless energy. She goes full bore all the time and you either try to keep up or you get left behind.

Those who connect with us through social media know the time and effort she puts into decorating the house for every holiday and every change of season. She works full-time at the store, splitting her time between Store Director of the Grantsville store and Dairy assistant in the Stansbury store. She takes care of the flowers and decorations at my dad's grave. She drives Lila all over the county and to Centerville once (or more) a week. And on and on.

Something Jeanell will do once in a while is ask me, "What's your favorite thing about me?" This is always a difficult question for me to answer because there are so many things I could say. She's an incredibly hard worker. She's beautiful. She's caring and compassionate. She has a terrific sense of humor. She's fun and adventurous. She's an amazing mother (our kids adore her in a way that they will never adore me, and that's ok).

This morning (after I had already written most of this post), Jeanell asked me this question again (it seems that often this question will come about following intimacy, but sadly, this morning, that was not the case). I was again left pondering which of her many terrific qualities I would answer with. I reflected on last night, when we spent the evening at Uncle Scott's house, singing songs around the piano with Scott, his dear friends, the Watsons, and Jeanell, Lila, and myself. I don't know the Watsons well, but I noticed how Jeanell has this way of making everyone in a situation feel welcome, comfortable, and accepted. I answered, "I love the way you make people feel comfortable," I told her, but realized that made it sound more like she gave people a comfy place to sit down, which wasn't quite what I meant. "I love the way you put people at ease and make them feel accepted when they're around you." I don't know if I said exactly those words, but that's what I tried to convey. And I don't know if that will always be my favorite thing about her, but for today, that will do just fine.

I've known Jeanell for most of my life and now been married to her for over half of it. What a blessing she is to me. So glad she's mine.

Cate

 I have a double-niece by the name of Cate (meaning she is the daughter of my brother and my wife's sister). Because Cate lives next-door to us, and is several years younger than both my youngest and her older siblings, and maybe a little because she is the youngest grandchild on the Jefferies side, we have a pretty close relationship with Cate.

The closeness of our relationship is almost entirely due to Jeanell. Cate loves her Aunt Nellie and will frequently come knock on our backdoor, just to see if Aunt Nellie is there. They've been watching Harry Potter movies together and once in a while Cate will even sleep over.

I'd say my role is more as just someone who Cate tolerates, but I like to tease her about how I'm her favorite uncle. She'll quickly tell me that in fact Uncle Scott (not my brother Scott, who is also Cate's uncle, but Jeanell's uncle Scott, who is technically Cate's great-uncle, but who is really keeping track? I am, that's for sure). Usually she'll let me know that I am somewhere around her 9th or 10th favorite uncle (she only has 11 uncles, 12 if you count Great-Uncle Scott, so I'm definitely toward the bottom). It's an ongoing joke between us.

A few birthdays ago, (Cate's) Grandpa Jefferies asked me to say the blessing on the food at a dinner we were having to celebrate Cate's birthday. I decided to take that opportunity to have a little fun with Cate. In the middle of my prayer, I said something like "and I'm thankful Heavenly Father, that I was able to say the blessing today for Cate's birthday, since I am her favorite uncle." What could Cate do or say, at least immediately? She couldn't interrupt the prayer. But as soon as the prayer was finished, she made sure to let me know that I was still not, in fact, her favorite uncle.

Last week, I attended my niece Hallie's missionary farewell. Jeanell was out of town for work and my kids are not really church-goers, so I was the lone representative from my family. When I went over to Hallie's parents' house after the meeting, Cate was there (that's the thing about double-nieces, they're at every family function, regardless of which side). Cate asked me if I would go out into the backyard with her (you'll notice she didn't ask Great-Uncle Scott, but I digress). I agreed and we went into the backyard where she started playing on the swing set.

I asked Cate about her friend Claire who lives next-door to Grandma and Grandpa Jefferies, but who is moving at some point. When Claire moves into her new home, Claire's grandparents are going to move into Claire's current home. So I was asking about that, whether Claire had moved yet, and if her grandparents had moved into the home next to Grandma and Grandpa Jefferies.

Cate told me that Claire hadn't moved yet, but would be in mid-February. She then told me that probably only Claire's grandma would be moving into the house because her grandpa was in the hospital and "his body was shutting down."

I don't know Claire's grandpa well, but I know who he is. A couple of his kids are around my age and they lived not too far from the house on Eastmoor where I grew up. I hadn't heard anything about this man being in the hospital and so I wanted to have this confirmed.

Later that day, I asked my mom if she had heard anything about that. She hadn't. We asked Uncle Scott if he had heard that. I asked Grandpa Jefferies (my father-in-law) if he had heard anything. He hadn't heard anything either. I asked my own brother Carl if he knew what Cate was talking about. Nope.

All week, the question was out there and hadn't been definitively resolved one way or the other.

Finally, Jeanell took matters into her own hands and texted Claire's cousin, Lauren, who is the same age as our twins and used to do Jeanell's eye-lashes. As luck would have it, Lauren was coming out to Grantsville to visit. The next day, she texted Jeanell back "I just saw my grandpa and he is good. He was working cattle all day yesterday so he probably has at least a few years left."

We were glad to hear that Claire's grandpa was well. I'm still wondering where Cate got her information or if she was just messing with me.

I'm grateful for Cate and the fun she adds to my life.

OCD and Wetting My Pants

As I've become older, I've decided that I have OCD, not to a debilitating degree, but enough that I notice it. For me, it's that most of what I do has to have a pattern or a schedule to it. I have a routine, and when my routine is disrupted, my mood suffers.

Some examples:

• I do laundry every Wednesday and Saturday. This happens pretty much without fail. The only exceptions are if Christmas falls on one of those days or if I am out of town on one of those days.
• I wash my hair every Thursday and Sunday and I condition my hair every Sunday. I might have this wrong but it seems like I learned on an episode of Queer Eye (first iteration) that you should wash your hair every fourth shower or something like that and that you should condition half of the times you washed your hair. I don't know if that's right or wrong, but that's where I got it and that's pretty much what I do.
• I shave every Sunday. I've rarely gone with a clean-shaven look in my adult life so I can get away with shaving once a week. When I was a church-goer (maybe we'll get into that at some point), it made sense to do that on Sunday and I've maintained that since I ceased being a church-goer.
• The last Friday of every month, I run the "basket clean" cycle on our washing machine.
• Every April, I order a new water filter for our refrigerator and new furnace filter for our furnace.
• At the end of each year, I map out my exercise plan for the entire next year. For example, on May 16, 2024 I will do P90X2 Yoga and run three miles. I would be extremely surprised if that doesn't happen.
• Every Sunday I fill up both our cars with gas. And every other Sunday I wash them. (This is something that started after I stopped being a regular church-goer).
• After I finish a run at the gym, I go to the drinking fountain and take 30 sips/swallows of water. Next I get a wipe and go and wipe off my treadmill. I then return to the drinking fountain and take 25 more sips of water. Then I stretch (same set of stretches every time with a 10-second hold of each position). Finally, I take 20 sips of water, gather my things, and leave.

There are probably other examples, but I think that's enough to give you an idea.

One other aspect of this part of my personality is that it is very difficult for me to stop working on a task before it is finished. And I can recall a specific incidence in the 2nd Grade where this had a detrimental effect.

My 2nd Grade teacher was the wonderful Christy Syndergaard. I have nothing but fond memories of her and her class and she remains one of my favorite people.

On this particular day, we were working on a math worksheet in class and as I got going on mine, I suddenly needed to use the bathroom. But I couldn't just stop with the worksheet half-done and go to the bathroom. I remember thinking, I'll just finish these last problems and then go ask if I can (may) use the bathroom.

But the urgency of the situation increased, and the need to go became so intense that it began to interfere with my concentration so I was doing the problems slower, creating a terrible negative feedback loop. The more I needed to go, the slower I could do the problems and psychologically I couldn't go until those problems were finished. I just couldn't bring myself to leave the unfinished assignment and go to use the bathroom. 

As you may have guessed from the title of this post, I didn't end up making it. At some point before the assignment was finished I lost control. And let's be honest, it wasn't just a little pee. In fact, I don't know if to this day I have ever urinated as much at one time. My pants were soaked. There was a puddle on my chair. It was not a good situation.

This would have happened late 1984 or early 1985 so I don't remember a lot of details about the rest of the day, but two things I do remember.

The first is that it was winter, and that not too long after my accident it was time to go outside for recess. And I remember it was oh so cold. If I had been outside when the accident occurred, it's possible there would have been an initial sensation of warmth as in Dumb and Dumber, but where I went outside some time after the accident, all I remember was the cold.

The second thing I remember about it is that no one said anything about it. I don't know if it was that no one noticed (I don't know how that would be possible) or if everyone was just trying to be nice about it, but neither Mrs. Sydergaard nor any of my classmates said anything about it. I went home at the end of the day and came back the next day as if nothing had happened.

When AWS Ruins Date Night

Full disclaimer. This will probably be pretty dry, boring, and maybe overly technical. But...it provides some insight as to what I do for work, and for people who work in a similar field, it might be relatable to problems that you deal with. And besides, the primary purpose is to document events for myself. If other people enjoy reading about them, great.

For the last seven years, I have worked for a company called 365 Retail Markets. We provide hardware and software for micro-markets. I have spent most of my time with the company working in the vending division. My current title is Manager of Vending Technology. I head up a small team that is responsible for three different card reader devices, a website for managing these devices, and an api that allows the devices to communicate to our backend. I primarily work from home, from my little office in our basement.

It was Friday and the work day was winding down. I had plans to go see a movie with Jeanell and a few of my kids. (We were going to see Mean Girls Musical Movie. First it was a movie. Then it was a musical. Now it's a musical movie. And Tina Fey has laughed all the way to the bank every time). It had just passed 5:00 and I stepped away from my computer. We weren't planning to leave for the movie until 6:15 or so, so I thought I might go relax for a bit, maybe read a bit of my book.

Suddenly, I got an alert on my phone saying that our database server had gone down (our backend consists of two server instances in AWS, one which hosts our database, and the other that hosts our web applications). I headed back down to my computer and when I couldn't login to the database server, I pinged Rob, a co-worker who manages our AWS infrastructure. He is in the Eastern time zone so it was just after 7:00 for him, but he said he was logging back into his laptop.

While we were getting logged into the AWS console to see if we could determine the problem and get the server backup, the server suddenly came back online. Rob looked in the console and there was a notification that our server instance had failed a status check and since it was set for auto-recovery, AWS had automatically created a new server instance. It looked like we were good.

I use software called New Relic to monitor the performance of our websites and I checked it to make sure that things were going back to normal. It quickly became apparent that while things were back up, they were most certainly not back to normal. The average web request response time was much higher than it had been and our APDEX score (a measure of what percentage of web requests receive a response in an acceptable amount of time) was about half of what it had been. I logged into the website and found it to be running extremely slowly. We weren't out of the woods yet.

At 6:00, with problems still ongoing, I texted Jeanell and told her I probably wouldn't be able to go to the movie. I was still hopeful that maybe things would start working again in the next few minutes, but it wasn't looking likely. She came down to my office, looking gorgeous. I couldn't believe I wasn't going to be able to go.

I pinged my boss Chad and our database administrator Kris and made them aware of the situation. They are both in the Eastern time zone as well, but both willingly jumped on a call, along with Rob and me. We were trying to get things going, but nothing was working. Jeanell was still waiting for me, but time was up, I wasn't going to be able to go. Jeanell and Lila left to go to the movie.

We spent the next 2.5 hours looking at logs, monitors, and doing everything we could think of to get the performance back to normal. We rebooted both servers. We tried to launch yet another new instance of our database server. Nothing seemed to work. Finally, we let Rob and Kris step away and Chad and I reached out and arranged to get on a call with AWS Support.

With the AWS support engineer, we again looked at various logs and performed various queries against our database, trying to figure out where the problem was. We were on this call for another hour without finding anything. Finally, he said he would send us some instructions of some logs to get that we could upload for another team to review. We ended the call.

We waited for the email with instructions on the logs that they needed. By this time, it was 10:00 my time. We wanted to get the logs before we stepped away so someone could be reviewing them while we slept. Chad pinged Rob and Kris for help with getting the logs we needed and even though it was now midnight EST, Rob responded and said he could get the logs.

That process took about a half-hour, but we got a zip file of the logs and were able to upload it to AWS for their review. At this point, we stepped away. I let Chad know that I would be up at 6:00 the next morning and if there was something for us to do, we could start working on it.

Jeanell and Lila returned home and we went to bed. I happened to wake up at 3 AM and AWS had responded with some additional suggestions. They suggested initializing one of our hard drives and updating some drivers. I went back to bed and got up at 6:00. We needed Rob's help with the additional steps and understandably he wasn't up yet. We pinged him and by 7:30 we were back on a call to proceed working on the problem.

But the suggestions didn't really make sense to Rob or any of us. We went back and forth for a bit, but finally decided to request another call with AWS. Finally, we got an engineer who had some insight into what was really going on, due to a similar case he had worked on a couple of days before.

He noted that our database server instance type was m4 and said that he had seen some newly created m4 instance types having performance problems. We had in effect created two new m4 instances, one automatically by AWS and then we had tried the process again manually. Both had resulted in the performance problems.

He suggested upgrading our instance to an m5 instance type and thought that would resolve the problem. We stopped our websites, took a backup of the current server, updated some AWS drivers to later versions that were needed for the m5 instance type, and then performed an in-place upgrade of our database server. After completing the upgrade, we started the database server back up, started the websites again, and held our breath.

I watched New Relic and breathed a sigh of relief when the performance metrics went back to what they had been before the initial crash. Chad logged into the website and found it to again be fast and responsive. It looked like this had solved the problem. It was now 9:30 AM Saturday morning.

Fortunately, this kind of thing doesn't happen too often, but it was still frustrating to miss my date with Jeanell and the kids due to something outside of my control.

Either way, it felt good to finally have the problem solved.

The Stop-and-Go Sign

I moved to Grantsville, Utah in the summer of 1983. I had completed kindergarten in Kaysville, Utah, where I was born. That fall I started first grade at Grantsville Elementary School in the class of Mrs. Jan Baird. Since this was forty years ago, my memories of first grade are not entirely clear. I remember learning songs from Mary Poppins and participating in the First Grade Circus (where I was a Hippity-Hop and also took part in the Purple-People-Eaters number). I'm sure there was some reading, spelling, and math as well. But there is one memory from first grade that I still remember pretty clearly.

When we'd eat lunch in the cafeteria, the teacher on lunch duty would carry around a Stop-and-Go sign. It was literally two pieces of construction paper (one red, one green) cut into circles and glued back-to-back with a popsicle stick handle in between. The words "Stop" and "Go" were printed on the corresponding sides. The sign would be used to indicate if a particular table was excused to go out for post-lunch recess. I don't remember exactly how this worked. There wasn't a sign for each table, so maybe it was just that when a table was excused to go out, the teacher would go to that table and dramatically turn the sign from "Stop" to "Go." In any case, it was used in some fashion to excuse kids to go outside after they had finished eating lunch.

My best friend in the first grade was David Fawson (still one of my very good friends who I can always count on to show up to the Alumni Basketball Tournament). One day after school, on our way to wait for the bus, we stopped by the Lost and Found, which was located in the cafeteria. I believe one of us was missing something and stopped to see if it had been placed in the Lost and Found. We did not find the missing item, but sitting atop the assorted items, was the aforementioned Stop-and-Go sign.

At the time, I think I believed it had been misplaced or lost and that is why it was in the Lost and Found. I later realized that's probably just where they kept it. For reasons I no longer remember or understand, and in an act that for me, qualified as rebellion, and against Dave's protestations, I decided to take the sign.

It's comical to me know, but I can still recall Dave's disbelief that I would be so brazen as to just take the Stop-and-Go sign. I mean, how would we be dismissed for recess the next day?

The consequences that would come to the school as a result of my larceny notwithstanding, why did I even I want the sign anyway? What was I going to do with it? It's appeal as a source of entertainment seems limited. If it had been awarded to me or given to me as a gift, pretty sure I would have thrown it straight in the trash. But since I was stealing it, I apparently wanted it desperately. I grabbed it from the Lost and Found and headed out to wait for the bus.

In what was maybe an indication of how I would fare as a criminal, I was not discreet about my theft. Instead, I proudly displayed my treasure to several others at the bus stop. When the bus arrived, I got on the bus and took the sign home. I have no memory of doing anything with the sign once I got there.

When I came back to school the next day, I left the sign at home. (I guess I had the good sense not to return the item to the scene of the crime, or something). Not long after the first bell rang and the school day had begun, Mrs. Karen Johnson (the school secretary at the time) came over the intercom: "Students, the Stop-and-Go sign is missing. If anyone has seen it, please let us know."

Never one who liked to be in trouble, I was immediately in a panic, but for a few moments, thought I could get a way with it. I would just act casual, bring it back the next day, take it to the office, and claim I had found it somewhere.

With a swiftness that astounds me to this day, this fleeting hope was shattered. It seemed that the crackling of the intercom from Mrs. Johnson's initial announcement had scarcely gone silent when she came over the intercom again, this time only to Mrs. Baird's classroom: "Mrs. Baird, I've received several reports that Richard (I was know as Richard in those days) Mouritsen was seen with the sign." (Several?! Was this school chock full of narcs?!).

It seemed that every head in the classroom turned toward me with looks of disgust. Mrs. Baird looked at me disappointedly and asked sternly if I had the sign with me. I replied that it was at home. "Well, you better go to the office and call about it."

I slowly walked to the office. I entered, and Mrs. Johnson glared at me with maybe even a bit more sternness than Mrs. Baird had. "Are you here to call about THAT?" she asked icily, without a hint of a smile. "Yes," was my meek reply.

When I think about now, I still laugh at the gravity that everyone gave the crime. We're literally talking about two pieces of construction paper, a popsicle stick, and a bit of Elmer's Glue. You'd have thought I had vandalized the school and taken some precious historical artifact with the way people were acting about it. Did we really need to get it back right then? Could we have survived the day and I would have brought it back tomorrow? Couldn't the teacher on lunch duty just say, "You're excused to go outside." Just for one day?

I dialed my phone number (4-6967, in those days, we didn't even have to dial "884", just "4", although I honestly don't remember if from the school you had to dial "9" first to get an outside line. This was 40 years ago. I was in the first grade!).

I think about my mom, and what the situation at home would have been like at the time. I don't recall if this was in the fall or the spring, but I guess either way, my mom would have had three young boys at home. Carl would have been a little over or under a year, Alan about three, and Scott five, I don't know if my mom had a car at home or if we only had one car at the time, which my dad would have taken to work (at Zion's Bank in Tooele, which was at the corner of what is now Utah Avenue and Main, though I don't know if it was called Utah Avenue at the time. There's certainly another story there. Maybe another time). I believe at some point we received an old blue car (I don't recall the make or model) from my Grandma Nalder, but I don't know if we had yet. (All I remember about that car is that it didn't run real well and was certainly not winning any beauty contests).

I don't remember exactly how the conversation with my mom went, but do remember that she was not about to drop everything and bring the sign to the school. I told Mrs. Johnson I'd have to bring the sign back the next day.

And to the best I can recall, I did. And thus ended that chapter of my troubled criminal past.

Attempting to Blog Again

One of my resolutions for the new year was to "Write a blog post (or equivalent) each week." While other of my resolutions I have kept reasonably well, I have made no real effort at writing a blog post (or equivalent, whatever that means). Today I am attempting to change that.

Part of the problem has been trying to figure out things to write about. My take on current events, politics, local issues? While I certainly have my opinions on many issues, my past efforts in that area haven't typically generated a lot of positive discussion, and in general, I find wading into controversial topics to be exhausting. There may still be times I decide to put an opinion out there on a controversial topic, but for the most part I am content to keep my opinions to myself, unless specifically asked.

So what else of value do I have to write about?

I work out consistently, but don't really consider myself an expert. Maybe from time to time I'll write about that topic. I'm a software developer by profession. I'm not what I would call a cutting-edge developer, but maybe at times I'll write about my job. I enjoy reading, and try to read a variety of almost exclusively non-fiction books. I'm a big fan of stand-up comedy and musical theatre, so maybe at times I could offer opinions on those topics. While I've dedicated less time to it recently, I enjoy researching family history so at times I might write about the experiences of my and/or Jeanell's ancestors.

But since I've never consistently kept a journal (other than the two years I served a mission for the LDS Church), I think I will try to mostly write stories from my life. I don't know that my life has been particularly interesting, so writing about it will probably mostly be for my own benefit. But I feel like I'd like to write some things down so maybe at some point, if someone takes an interest in who I am or what I was about, they might stumble on this blog, and find somewhat of an answer.