What's the message?

Today on the way to work I was engaged in the sports radio discussion of the morning. Turns out a local high school senior, was recently reprimanded physically and verbally by his Coach. As the story unfolds this kid though talented, has a mouth and isn't afraid to use it and has done so with numerous tirades to his coach regarding playing time, his role etc etc. In a recent blowout by a state powerhouse as his defeated team and teammates were leaving the field, he goes off to anyone in ear shot. He was shouting his opinion on the offense being called by his coach. It wasn't mild opinion sharing mind you, it was loud, obnoxious and repeatedly drew similarities between the offense and bovine excrement. What followed was a frustrated coach advising his "no I in team" mascot, that he should think hard about closing his pie hole, only he used terminology not fit for such a blog as mine.

Fact is I don't know the kid and I don't know the coach. I can only go by what I have read. But if this kid is getting in his coaches grill over and over and then proceeds to tell the world and his team mates his oh so important and educated opinion of the play calling, his coach should have kicked more than just his butt off the team.

But hey I'm old school.

Now the coach has been disciplined and the kid and his family have lawyered up. He wants to go play somewhere else now and demands the right to do so. After all the coach did grab his shoulder pad breast plate and shove him, a move that if done as a reward for a good stick or catch would have largely gone unnoticed, and the UHSAA has determined he is right and has given him the okay to do so. What is equally disturbing is that a rival school has agreed to enroll him and give him a spot on the football team.

Clearly I am no Einstein, but am I the only one around that questions the judgment of this decision? In the world I grew up in you respected adults and coaches, at least until you were one. That didn't mean all coaches deserved respect and were beyond reproach, it just meant if you disagreed with a coach you typically tried to work harder for a position or approached him and asked him what could be done to improve your situation. Things were handled civilly or at least attempted. Sometimes it got results and sometimes it didn't. But isn't that the way life is? Things can't always go the way you think it should and when it doesn't we build character by learning how to handle it or how to improve ourselves. Now any punk high school kid with and attitude can work the system to his advantage and we all just stand around and shake our heads.

When are other coaches or school administrators going to stand up and say, sorry we don't tolerate that bovine excrement here, (his words not mine). Get over it. It's time someone with power draws a line in the sand and then have the guts to stand guard and make sure no one crosses. Don't get me wrong, I believe kids need to express themselves and their frustrations but they need to do it in a way that proves they have a brain and not just daddy's deep pockets or his myopic view. We want our kids to be able to function in society and our education system is suppose to help that right? At least to some degree. If we continue to tolerate this idiotic and self centered behavior we are going to see law suits cropping up because our 5 year olds t-ball coach believes rotating positions is a good idea at a young age, when clearly our kid is the best short stop on the team and needs special nurturing.

Man, I used to only get disgusted when professional athletes acted like this, now it's in my back yard.
Great message we're sending.

What is it about a thermos?

My entire life I have loved a thermos. I don't know why and I have no logical explanation for my affinity but as I often say, it is what it is. I bet I'm not alone.

This morning in an effort to eradicate a recent invasion of fruit flies or D.melanogaster for those of you looking for the specific genus, my lovely wife was going thoroughly through the pantry with her patented hot liquid Lysol to clear the little fly freaks. It has been quite an ordeal, but that is blog of a different color and one for another time.

Anyway as the shelves were cleared and as I entered the kitchen I spotted it. There majestically perched on the back of one of the pantry shelves, now unhidden by the blue lake green beans, was my thermos. It was given to me by a close friend a year or so ago for leading him across the treacherous waters of the San Francisco Bay in a kayak as he swam from Alcatraz to San Fran. It was filled with some an incredible hot chocolate mix and the taste was worth remembering but that isn't what was so endearing about it. It was the thermos. My very own cool silver bullet thermos. I could put anything I wanted in that baby from now on. It was sleek and heavy duty and frankly I looked important just packing it around.

Now before you confirm your thoughts of the past that I am totally crackers, think again and remember when you were just a pup. Back then they had some pretty cool lunch boxes, complete with a themed thermos to pack your PB&J, Cheeto's and apple in to elementary school. My first thermos was a Peanuts version. It had Snoopy and Chuck on it and it had a cool blue lid. Yeah the whole lunch box was nifty but the thermos was the keeper. I was always happy to bust that bad boy out and plop it down on the wall mounted fold out lunch table at Forbes Elementary. It was almost like pouring your koolaid or Tang or whatever you got out of the house with into that self contained screw off cap made you an instant "wheel" and the envy of all the kids who were eating school lunch or had to brown bag it.

If your like me you try and hold on to those little moments of glory. They serve as great memories to build self esteem.

For being such a big deal back then, I don't see a lot of combo lunch boxes anymore with the specialized thermos. I am sure they are out there somewhere, probably being packed to 1st grade by some lucky little toe headed kid. He no doubt is counting the minutes until Sponge Bob makes his lunch room appearance and all the kids think to themselves, I gotta have one of those thermos's.

Something to that Royal Army

So once in a while you have an experience that at the time seems to carry great impact. You feel it and you appreciate it, not understanding fully how it will effect your future. I had such an experience last Sunday evening and now after about my 4th "Holy Cow" I thought it was time to share it. Sunday evening was just like any other. Around nine a clock we head over to the ward house for a little ward prayer. It is something I look forward to. We have been drawing record crowds and that obviously speaks to the kind of feeling the kids get being around one another and gaining a little spiritual muscle as they prepare for the week, and I am no different. I appreciate the boost. We usually sing a hymn, have a thought and kneel while someone prays in behalf of the group. I should say at this point that we had a new kid playing the piano, I'll call him Curtis, and he had some obvious enthusiasm for our hymn that night. It was "Behold a Royal Army" hymn #251 for those of you following along. As I sat there I could tell something was different. Take a note, I'm not the king of spiritual sensitivity but there was a stirring that was quickly filling the room, one that even I could feel. We sang all three verses and with each verse this feeling grew. Something about singing Victory, Victory through him that redeemed us, was just having an incredible impact on me. After it was over I wanted to sing it all over again. I looked around and couldn't tell if anyway was feeling the way I was, but the way I felt it didn't matter. I was hooked. I hummed it or whistled it the rest of that evening, wrapped up the day in normal fashion and went to bed.
I naturally assume that experiences like that disapear in the rigors of our daily lives once we reengage on Monday. Just another great experience to chalk up to Sabbath Day observance. Not so.
Four different times this week I have been at some kind of personal cross-road. Some decision needing to be made. Nothing that is going to make much difference to anyone else but 4 that would surely make a difference for me. Each time as I sat thinking, Behold a Royal Army came to me and each time with the same level of feeling and impact it had on Sunday evening. Each time it pointed me in the better of the directions I had to choose from. I haven't had my mind on that song all week. Its not like I had been singing it so it was a natural process of thought. No, it was a gift. A gift 4 times over in fact, and what a difference it has made. It made me thankful and it made me humble and I had a distinct feeling that someone cared. It was quite a feeling. I have never really considered myself much of a soldier but I sure do now.

Behold! a royal army,
With banner, sword and shield,
Are marching forth to conquer,
On life’s great battlefield;
Its ranks are filled with soldiers,
United, bold and strong,
Who followed their Commander,
And sing their joyful song.

Chorus

Victory, victory,
Thro’ Him that redeemed us!
Victory, victory,
Thro’ Jesus Christ our Lord!
Victory, victory, victory,
Thro’ Jesus Christ our Lord!

And now the foe, advancing,
That valiant host assails,
And yet they never falter,
Their courage never fails;
Their Leader calls, “Be faithful!”
They pass the word along,
They see His signal flashing,
And shout the joyful song.

Chorus

Oh, when the war is ended,
When strife and conflict cease,
When all are safely gathered
Within the vale of peace,
Before the King eternal,
That vast and mighty throng
Shall praise His Name forever,
And this shall be their song.

Turn Out the Lights. . .

Its hard to believe we semi-willingly left this heaven on earth to return to the grind of our daily lives just a couple of weeks ago. Time seems to pass all together too fast when we're out on the tour. It has to be the fact that we surround ourselves with incredible people we are fortunate enough to call friends. . . Real good friends. Interesting how the company can make the trip and this time was no exception. It didn't matter whether we were on DawnPatrol or trying to get the grill to emit even a blue dart level of cooking heat, the people made it bliss. I remember this poem that I used at a special occasion in my life and today as I thought about the first NWT entry it came back to me. I figured that was a sign to include it.

If nobody smiled and nobody cared
and nobody helped us along.
If every moment looked after itself and
good things always went to the strong;
If nobody cared just a little about you
and nobody cared about me,
and we stood alone, in the battle of life,
What a dreary old world this would be.
Life is sweet, because of friends we've made
and the things which in common we share.
We want to live on, not because of ourselves,
but because of the people who care.
It's doing and giving for somebody else
on which all of life's splendor depends.
The joy of this world, when you've summed it all up,
is found in the making of friends

Now as I look at the hundreds of pictures, I just sit and smile. It's a memory my family will keep for a lifetime. One trip never replaces another, it just falls in line with the millions of memories we have made and treasure in Lake Powell. While there will be many more posts on this trip to come, it's still hard to say. . . The party's over.