Utah is really, really, ridiculously good looking

So I’ve picked up a couple of pictures from recent activities, and seriously, Utah is just a gorgeous place. The first one is from a hike that I went on with my dad a week or two ago. It was a little less than three miles in, so not super long or anything, but you are rewarded with some beautiful vistas. There are drinking fountains along the way, so you know it’s a serious hike…

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The view climbing up rock canyon. Sorry for the weird lighting. You take what you can get when you’re hiking.

The other picture is one that I took at my nephew’s soccer game. You can see him just behind the kid with the red shirt. More importantly, look at the mountains. This was the view on a soccer field in a public park where elementary school kids play. The sun was starting to  go down and it turned the mountains this bright gold color. Even after growing up here, I’m still amazed that you have these amazing views just right outside.

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I don’t think there are too many places in the world where you can play soccer with a view like that.

Thankful Thursday 8 – Song of Myself

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Picture from wikipedia. ‘Cause that’s where I find everything.

I was reading Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” today. When I studied Whitman a little bit in high school and undergrad I remember not liking him. I don’t have any good reasons for that (at least not any that I remember), but a distaste for his work has stuck with me. Regardless, I was looking for a quote that I remembered, (which might appear in another post if I get it edited to my liking) and I found that it was from this poem.

The work isn’t something that I’d give to a kid, since it gets a little erotic in places, but I found the piece incredibly moving.

His meditation on grass in section six (I put the text at the bottom of this post) was particularly striking, perhaps because mortality is something I think about a lot these days. I love all the meanings he ascribes to something so simple: a remembrance of the creator, a symbol of the basic equality of all people, or the words of the dead communicating with us.

The whole tone of the poem is so hopeful. It embraces the potential and the nobility of humanity, and I’m always a sucker for stuff like that. It’s worth taking some time to read it. I found the whole thing online here.

Today I’m grateful that I could steal a few moments to think and reflect about my life, and I’m grateful for Whitman’s inspired and inspiring words.

6

A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;

How could I answer the child? . . . . I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child . . . . the produced babe of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people and from women, and from offspring taken soon out of their mothers’ laps,
And here you are the mothers’ laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths
for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.

All goes onward and outward . . . . and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

Fun at the Museum

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This is the picture you get when you tell your kids to say “dinosaurs!”

We’ve taken our little family to a couple of museums lately. The first one was actually a backup plan. Since it was a sunny, beautiful day, we decided to go to the park. Of course, by the time we shaved the yak and were ready to get out the door it had started raining. Time for a visit to the BYU Earth Science museum.

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I was always scared to put my head in that thing as a kid. My kids take after me.

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Photo booths are totally fun, and totally overpriced.

There are tons of fossils in Utah. Because of that, even a small museum can have some really cool stuff. Bonnie and I have been to the museum of natural history in New York and it’s one of the only museums out East that I’ve seen with a good fossil collection. The BYU museum, on the other hand, lacks the massive budget and resources of a New York museum, but it still has some great fossils, and was the perfect size for the two kids. There are tons of things to look at and touch, so it’s really fun.

The other museum that we went to last week was the Museum of Natural Curiosity at Thanksgiving Point. We have a family pass that lets us get into a bunch of children’s museums all over the country, so we didn’t have to pay when we went. It’s basically a huge activity center. We didn’t see the whole thing, but we spend a lot of time in a room with a bunch of science demonstrations on movement and mechanics (or something like that). It was super cool.

We also had a great time in the section with a lot of wind and water things. There’s even this huge area where kids (and adults) can build structures that can spray water, or direct the flow different ways. You don’t even have to worry about getting the floor all wet. It’s really well done that way. Anyway, we all had a great time taking a few field trips, especially since we were able to go during non-peak hours. Hooray for having cool stuff (almost) completely to ourselves!

So, does anyone else know any really fun and free museums or activities in the Orem/Provo area (or thereabouts)? We’re always looking for fun stuff that we can take the kids to.

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R is really good at smiling naturally.

I think L needs sensitivity training…

IMG_1251Whenever I hear the phrase “sensitivity training,” I think of an old ad campaign for Reebok. Do any of you remember “Terry Tate, office linebacker?” He would run around tackling people for doing annoying things at the office. In one episode he gets in trouble for what he says to a guy and has to go to a ridiculous sensitivity training.

If our family were run like a business, L would spend her life talking to HR. Being a four-year-old, she doesn’t really have a filter on what she says, so in the last few months there have been a slew of awkward and insensitive questions and comments.

With me, she tends to stick to unkind comments about my weight:

“Dad’s fat, Mom’s thin, I’m little.”

“Dad, don’t eat all of those or you’ll get really fat.”

I’m not even fat or anything. I have maybe a little paunch, but I’m not fat. Of course, my weight isn’t the only part of my appearance which falls under her merciless gaze:

“Don’t put that on! You’ll break it because your head is way too big!”

…Thanks for dredging up my childhood insecurities honey.

Bonnie is not immune to this. In her case L usually leaves her appearance alone, but I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

“Dad, you’re smart right?” “Sure.” “But Mom’s not smart though, right?”

“Here Mom,” *hands her a stick* “It’s a present for you before you die.”

Anyone have a good response to that? Because I don’t know what etiquette demands for the “here’s a little something for you until you die” kind of present.

Friends and neighbors aren’t immune to the questions and observations either. We had a couple over for dinner who didn’t have any children. I don’t know if it’s by choice or not, but I prefer not to ask. L, on the other hand, piped up almost immediately with “do you have a baby in your tummy?”

Even strangers are often impaled by the queries of my child. When we were out on a walk, we were passed by a Native American guy with long hair. L piped up, “Is that a boy or a girl?”

“It’s a boy, L.”

“But why does he have long hair like a princess?”

Why indeed.