Saturday, May 16, 2009
Biggest Loser...
Recently my wife, who runs 20 miles a week and goes to the gym on the days she doesn't run, was lamenting about the after effects of having four kids. Always thinking, Kai piped in: "I know Mom! You can be on Biggest Loser and you can get a Biggest Loser shirt too." Uhmmm... Not gonna touch that one buddy.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Most, But Not All...
Yesterday at church an 8 year old boy was asked to give a short talk. He began by saying, "I love my mom and most of my family..." Unfortunately, I was trying so hard not to laugh I don't know what he said after that.
Monday, May 04, 2009
A Time to Laugh...
Call it Karma or whatever, but life has an interesting, ironic and sometimes funny way of dealing with incidents such as these. Today I visited the same grocery store where this incident happened in 2004. Outside the store a large sign announced the arrival of a new item: “SUSHI Made Fresh Daily At Seafood/Deli.” When I saw the sign I laughed. This time my wife laughed too.
Sometimes the unique irony of life gives us great opportunities to pause, reflect and laugh.
My family and I moved to the Heber Valley in 2004 excited to experience small town life in such a beautiful place. Looking back, by and large our time here has been wonderful. We have found many sincere and generally opened minded people. We’ve made many new friends. We’ve fondly experienced the European charm of Midway and the western adventure of Heber City’s Cowboy Poetry Gathering and Buckaroo Fair. (Okay, so I’m exaggerating about the Buckaroo Fair portion. I’m not really much of a Buckaroo so I didn’t actually go to the Buckaroo Fair itself per se, but we did really like the Cowboy Poetry Gathering part, particularly the steak dinner night). We’ve logged many miles on the local outdoor trails and we’ve taken in the beautiful autumn splendor of the oak brush surrounding the valley. We’ve even survived the last two winters which old timers describe as a more “normal” sort, though if we have many more of these “normal” winters my sanity may begin to mirror my crumbling cement driveway. (No, the year 2004 was not a good vintage for cement driveways in the Heber Valley, but I digress).
Unfortunately though, I must admit that there is one minor incident that has always bothered me a bit – an incident that reminds me that even the Heber Valley isn’t immune from the foibles that often face humanity. Mentioning it is certainly not an indictment of the Heber Valley. Indeed, this incident could have occurred anywhere in the country. It just happened to have occurred here. I mention it only because I find a certain irony in it.
Not long after moving to the Heber Valley in 2004, my wife, who happens to have been born in South Korea, but has since become a United States Citizen (On the 4th of July, 2001 no less) visited one of the local grocery stores. While she was shopping, a group of teenage boys passed by and laughingly said, “There’s no sushi here!” They cracked themselves up pretty good, and they snickered all the way down the aisle as they left. Having also grown up in small town Utah and still being in touch with my inner first grader, when my wife told me of this incident, initially I too gave a little chuckle. Only one problem: my wife wasn’t laughing. I could tell that this racial insensitivity hurt her. I felt badly and wanted to find the teenage boys and perhaps share with them a few choice vocabulary words I remember hearing during my mining town upbringing. (My farmer friends tell me that such words would have been very effective in communicating with teenage boys because animals even understand such vocabulary, but I digress again). Fortunately, my wife didn’t let this incident affect her. She moved on and continued to embrace all the good in the Heber Valley. However, I’ve always remembered it – wishing somehow I could take it away or erase it from our experience here.
My family and I moved to the Heber Valley in 2004 excited to experience small town life in such a beautiful place. Looking back, by and large our time here has been wonderful. We have found many sincere and generally opened minded people. We’ve made many new friends. We’ve fondly experienced the European charm of Midway and the western adventure of Heber City’s Cowboy Poetry Gathering and Buckaroo Fair. (Okay, so I’m exaggerating about the Buckaroo Fair portion. I’m not really much of a Buckaroo so I didn’t actually go to the Buckaroo Fair itself per se, but we did really like the Cowboy Poetry Gathering part, particularly the steak dinner night). We’ve logged many miles on the local outdoor trails and we’ve taken in the beautiful autumn splendor of the oak brush surrounding the valley. We’ve even survived the last two winters which old timers describe as a more “normal” sort, though if we have many more of these “normal” winters my sanity may begin to mirror my crumbling cement driveway. (No, the year 2004 was not a good vintage for cement driveways in the Heber Valley, but I digress).
Unfortunately though, I must admit that there is one minor incident that has always bothered me a bit – an incident that reminds me that even the Heber Valley isn’t immune from the foibles that often face humanity. Mentioning it is certainly not an indictment of the Heber Valley. Indeed, this incident could have occurred anywhere in the country. It just happened to have occurred here. I mention it only because I find a certain irony in it.
Not long after moving to the Heber Valley in 2004, my wife, who happens to have been born in South Korea, but has since become a United States Citizen (On the 4th of July, 2001 no less) visited one of the local grocery stores. While she was shopping, a group of teenage boys passed by and laughingly said, “There’s no sushi here!” They cracked themselves up pretty good, and they snickered all the way down the aisle as they left. Having also grown up in small town Utah and still being in touch with my inner first grader, when my wife told me of this incident, initially I too gave a little chuckle. Only one problem: my wife wasn’t laughing. I could tell that this racial insensitivity hurt her. I felt badly and wanted to find the teenage boys and perhaps share with them a few choice vocabulary words I remember hearing during my mining town upbringing. (My farmer friends tell me that such words would have been very effective in communicating with teenage boys because animals even understand such vocabulary, but I digress again). Fortunately, my wife didn’t let this incident affect her. She moved on and continued to embrace all the good in the Heber Valley. However, I’ve always remembered it – wishing somehow I could take it away or erase it from our experience here.
Call it Karma or whatever, but life has an interesting, ironic and sometimes funny way of dealing with incidents such as these. Today I visited the same grocery store where this incident happened in 2004. Outside the store a large sign announced the arrival of a new item: “SUSHI Made Fresh Daily At Seafood/Deli.” When I saw the sign I laughed. This time my wife laughed too.
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