Stories

It’s been a slow week at work, which gave me a lot of free time and a chance to transcribe some stories my grandpa recorded about his childhood. It is a delight to hear Grandpa talk about the world of his young life in Henrieville, UT and to hear him laugh about his experiences. My favorite statement so far has come from his description of a boyhood game he called Duck on Rock. He said, “I don't remember the particulars of the game, but I know that it always ended up in a rock fight.”

Grandpa also told of his first experiences with clay. As a boy, he used to gather the clay that accumulated on the sides of the irrigation ditch where silt would drop out of the water. Perhaps even then he was being prepared for the sculpting work the Lord would  have him to do.

Listening to Grandpa’s stories this week fit nicely with Pioneer Day. In Virginia, of course, it isn’t a state holiday, but the slow week let me watch the Days of ’47 Parade online. It was a delicious taste of nostalgia and Pioneer Day flavor in my far away corner of Virginia. It also brought back various memories: being roused at 3 am to claim a spot on the street to watch the parade (I don’t know if it was really that early; that’s just how I remember it); sleeping on blankets and sleeping bags after we found a spot while my parents cooked breakfast on a camp stove; other years of running the races, followed by wandering several more miles back and forth along the parade route (sometimes on tired legs; sometimes covering more distance after the race was over than I actually ran in the race); other years sleeping in and watching the parade online, but again having breakfast with family or friends.

They’re all good memories.

I also spent some time in the family history center this week, looking at old pictures and census records. Those records are like little tidbits of stories; tales in miniature about what life was like and the kind of people my ancestors are.

Being in a Colonial and Revolutionary Era town makes me think a lot about history. But in all the history that is here, I’m most grateful for my own heritage and stories from both sides of my family. My ancestors, grandparents, and parents have done so much to pave my way through life. Knowing a little about them helps me as I figure out my own work and write my own story.

I love stories. And I’m looking forward to more of them as the summer goes on.

A Taste of Heaven

I’m house-sitting again this week. But there are no dogs this time, only plants. And a piano, which is fun. I brought one of my music books over to see how much I can learn of Michael Ethington’s How Firm a Foundation while I housesit for three weeks. It feels good to play the piano again.

The highlight of my week was going to the Washington D.C. Temple. It isn’t as far away as I thought, only about 2½ hours (although I have heard stories of traffic extending the trip by one or two hours). I packed some snacks, turned on my GPS, and headed North through the tree tunnels that are Virginia roads.

I love this little light. It's the
best image I can think of
for representing how tall the
temple is. It's as if it's
craning its neck back trying
to see the top.

It felt so good to be at the temple. The inside is beautiful. I love the windows in the walkway after the entrance.  I loved looking up and down the tall spiral staircase. The Celestial Room is exquisite.  It was a peaceful, thoughtful, and edifying couple of hours.

The drive back was calm and uneventful. I listened to some TED talk summaries and Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me on NPR. And the only turn I missed that day was the last freeway exit when I was back in Williamsburg (I turned off my GPS thinking I knew where to go).

I think temples are always more beautiful in person. A picture never quite captures the beauty of being there. But I've included a few to give just a taste of my afternoon.

Easy Reading

The Jordan River Temple after a nice evening session.

Home, sweet home. I had a much needed week at home with family after my summer classes were over. On the way there, I read a National Geographic magazine from the stack on my table. (I didn’t do much magazine reading during the school year, so they sort of piled up.) I thought one magazine would be enough to keep me busy for the trip, but I finished it by the time I was halfway to Salt Lake City. Suffice it to say magazine reading is easier than law homework.

Wandering the Salt Lake City Cemetery
(a very peaceful and interesting place).

My trip was a wonderful conglomeration of the best parts of life: family and friends and adventure and  just being home. The highlights included visiting my grandparents, attending my cousin’s sealing in the Mt. Timpanogos Temple, dinner with friends at Vinto (casual Italian – not exceptional, but tasty), rafting down the Colorado River in Moab, stargazing on the roof of Dad’s Jeep with my sister and my niece (Mom & Dad were there too, but opted for the chairs),  getting a haircut (I knew it was a good one when my 5-year-old niece told me the result was “exciting”), appreciating a wild snake (courtesy of my brother and his mad reptile wrangling skills), and getting semi-buried in river mud (my nephew was up to his chest at once point).

Mt. Timpanogos Temple

The happy couple (& family).

There were some interesting sights too: mountains, shooting stars, a little World Cup soccer, red rocks, a movie (Life is Beautiful – good show), scenery that wasn’t hiding behind a forest (it’s wonderful how far you can see when there aren’t many trees around), a very dark road…

I saw the last one while my sister and I were driving down a streetlight-less road in the middle of nowhere in central Utah late at night. The headlights just turned off. It was dark. There were no other cars around (to give us light or, on the other hand, crash into us) so we found ourselves looking at a big black nothing coming at us at 65 mph. (We slowed down very quickly.) Happily, the hazard lights worked and we were able to strobe-light ourselves to the side of the road. After some fiddling with the controls, the headlights came back on and kindly stayed on during the last 30 minutes of our drive into Moab.

Getting a good stargazing picture while lying on the roof
of a jeep is rough. At least in this one our eyes were open.

Most of the trip was less dramatic than that. It was so good to spend time with my family. The trip felt like it was all over too soon.

A very little bit of some of my favorite scenery in
the world: Utah's red rock country.

______________________________________________
Back in Virginia

The flag flying at the Williamsburg Capitol
on Independence Day.

Williamsburg fife and drum corps.

I was back in Williamsburg for the 4th of July, which was fun. I heard the Declaration of Independence read from the steps of the Courthouse (arriving straight from its adoption in Philadelphia, of course). There was much huzzah!-ing for freedom and much booing and hissing at the mention of taxes or the abuses of King George III. Later, I toured the Bruton Parish Church, watched part of a colonial auction (the prices were not very authentic), enjoyed the fife and drum concert, and spent some time reading on the lawn near the Governor’s Palace. The evening entertainment was provided by the Virginia Symphony Orchestra and fireworks. Fireworks sound much more like actual cannons in the Revolutionary City setting.

Listening to the Declaration of Independence
read from the steps of the Williamsburg Courthouse.

Colonial auctioneer.

[I actually only saw 1/3 of the fireworks because I was on the wrong side of the lawn and most of them were exploding behind the trees. Someone once refer to newspapers as “thinly sliced trees.” Much as I like trees and believe that most of them should be firmly rooted in the earth and leafy, the thinly sliced versions are much better for visibility.]

Trees. Always trees.

The Bruton Parish Church, seen from a colonial garden.

After the fireworks, the fife & drum corps marched down DOG street, preceded by torches and followed by the crowd. It was marvelous to feel the military beat vibrating in my chest as I walked down the road in the middle of history – a perfect ending to Independence Day.

Marching toward DOG street at the end of the day.

I’ve also enjoyed some time outside. It’s been drizzly, hot, sunny, overcast, and invariably humid, but not markedly uncomfortable. The deer are clustering around South Henry Street again. The rabbits are all about, looking like the offspring of escaped household pets (I saw one trying to be invisible by sitting so perfectly still that it looked like a chocolate Easter bunny). I’ve been quacked and murmured at by the gang of white ducks that hangs out in a little cluster at the lake. And I was surprised to look down from the lake bridge one day and see a little snub nose sticking out of the water. It took some closer looking to figure out it was attached to a turtle. I gradually realized there were about a dozen turtles – in small, medium, and large varieties – swimming and basking in the murky water below me.

Besides that, I’ve mostly been working. My job consists of whatever odd tasks need to be done at the law school’s Alumni Development Office (for example, looking up graduation years for hundreds of alumni and entering the information on a spreadsheet).

And I’ve done a lot of reading: books, news, whatever. So long as it’s not too tough.