NO MORE NIGHTS!

I just recieved word that my days working night shifts are over! (Starting the week of June 28th!) If that doesn't deserve a shout out, I don't know what does. I tried to post a photo of a sleep deprived zombie, but the left button on my mouse has been deactivated. What ever.
Wahoo!

Truman G. Madsen

1926-2009

Most of us, if we are lucky, will have pivotal moments or experiences in our lives that, when we look back, play a defining moment in the process of becoming "us". One such experience occurred to me as a young missionary in Northern California. A friend, Brandon, let me borrow a series of lectures on tape concerning the Prophet Joseph Smith. In so doing he introduced me to a man who would, and still does, inspire me in his unique and genuine way. Amber just likes the sound of his voice. {;-) His name is Truman G. Madsen.

In a lecture he shares an old German proverb that deals with a swine herdsman and his family who took a piglet in to their home as a pet. For days they relived the same experience: the pig is washed, and clothed and fed at the table, but as soon as they turn their backs it is out the door and right back into the wallow. In frustration a family council is called where different ideas are presented, but none seem appropriate. Finally the father has an idea, the pig is brought in, an operation is performed and the pigs heart is replaced with a human heart. Now, not only does the pig stay in the home, but it loves being in the home with the family.

This week Truman passed away and I feel it timely to express my love for the man and his life's work. He helped perform a similar transformation in my heart as I sat at his feet and listened to his testimony. I appreciated his lectures on the Prophet, but it wasn't until I studied his "The Presidents of the Church" lectures that I became completely smitten, I am in deep smit. His lectures went to my core.

This man seems to have had an almost open door to every church president since his grandfather Heber J. Grant. Being a historian, philosopher, and a professor at BYU his life work has carried him all over the world, and even lead to his becoming the director of the BYU Jerusalem Center for New Eastern Studies which gave him many personal experiences with Church leaders and Presidents, and even the then mayor of Jerusalem, Teddy Kollek.

His biography on his website mentions that we may never know how many lives his work touched and I just wanted to acknowledge him and the way he opened my eyes and mind to the men we revere as prophets. I would not have gotten to know these men with out Truman, and for that I am grateful. Thanks to Brandon for turning me on to him and his mastery of our language. "Pseudologia Fantastica"!

Thanks to my family and friends.

Just wanted to take a moment, in reflection, and thank everyone who has played a role in my life and in our little family (i.e. Jayrod, Ambo and the Cherub). Eight years ago Ambo and I, for reasons unknown to us, decided to get married. (I think she felt sorry for the sappy kid who stumbled his way through a courtship and proposal, and decided the only responsible thing she could do was keep as close an eye on me as possible so as to prevent me from getting out of control!) I can honestly say that marrying her was the best decision I have made, and couldn't be more pleased with who Ambo is becoming and also who she is helping me to become.

But our story began long ago. We were blessed with the best sets of parents imaginable. Individuals who were parents. Companionship's who actively looked out for our best interests regardless of the fads, trends, and tides of the day. And who have each slipped seamlessly into the role of grandparent.

The other night I found myself walking down a dirt road, Sam asleep in my arms, after dark, with my Dad. As we walked he shared with me his feelings and some counsel concerning being a father and a dad. He spoke of his belief that the relationship between a child and his father is beyond measure in both value and importance. How many people have that kind of experience? Once we reached camp, our conversation continued as we looked at the stars. I have had this experience with my Dad many times over the years, and it never gets old.

I have had many similar conversations with my Mom as well, but these were usually held in our kitchen, front room, or her bedroom. One pivotal conversation occurred on pages lane as I accompanied her on a morning walk about nine years ago. Another occurred over the phone from a very unsure and frightened twenty year old, living away from home as he sat hunched over a computer at work. I will always remember her voice as she said, "Nobody messes with my kids, you are coming home!" Needless to say, shortly afterward I did pack up and come home. Not because she told me so, but because, as usual, she was right. The time had come for me to return home.

I have heard Ambo speak of her love for her parents, and many, many, similar experiences with her parents. As her husband I offer my deepest thanks to both of them for raising her, for protecting her, and for loving her. She is everything a man could ever want for a wife, and everything a child could ever want for a mom. And as such, she is perfect in my mind. I myself have had opportunity to listen to Clair and Patti, in similar experiences as my own parents, their words have only strengthened what I was taught growing up. I can only say Thank you.

As for the siblings: Clint and Tob have always set the example for me, even when they didn't think they were. I have followed in both of their tracks throughout the years in an effort to mimic their strengths and have grown accordingly. Being the elder bro/sis is hard and thankless work and so I thank you for your fearless tackling of age appropriate challenges thereby making the way clear when I reached them. Thank you for your examples.

Tim, Amy, and Angie are also among my closest friends. As being an elder sibling is hard work; it is also tremendously motivating to see those following behind you, and know of the challenges they face, you yourself having just battled them. Thank you for your good lives, your good desires, and the good choices you have made. Thank you for your examples, your support, and your love. We make a pretty good team, that is when we can all meet at the same place and at the same time. Anj, Ryan, Liz all fit in their perfect ways and I enjoy each of them as they are. Anj thanks for keeping Clint in line, even if you did introduce him to yoga (sickie). We look forward to Tob and Angie adding theirs to the pot in time.

All of my life I have been blessed to have close friends. From Ben and Steve, to Brandon and Curt, to Jon and Derek, to the Postma's and the Sadorus', well the entire neighborhood really, and on and on. I have never been alone or lonely, I don't think I have ever experienced either emotion or state. I apologies to everyone for not listing you name by name, but I couldn't do it justice. But know that I appreciate your influence and friendship more than I can express. We have had some very good times, and in the words of Percy Blackeney "More to come, more to come".

Well enough of that. Is there any question as to what kind of drunk I would be? (You're in my eyes, you're in my dreams...) I am sitting at work, and I think the vials of Dilaudid and Ativan I am carrying in my pocket have begun to seep into my skin, so I will sign off before I really get carried away. Thank you all for a wonderful life, and thank you all for the years to come.

SWINE FLU UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can stay silent no longer.... We are all being stalked by a dastardly nemesis, the deadly SWINE FLU!!!!! Which is following closely in the footsteps of it forefathers (i.e. Avian Flu, West Nile Virus, Giardia, Cryptosporidium, Salmonilla, acid rain, global cooling, global warming, alien invasions, and Hilary Clinton) and all other media dubbed "crisis".

In case you haven't heard, Utah suffered its first fatality, Marcos Sanchez. To his family we offer our deepest condolences, this is not ment to make light of your situation. However, in regards to this "epidemic", "Pandemic", and all out panic I wish to comment.

What is it about the media and us as people that lends us to the sensational in life? If the news were to report the life story of an elderly lady who wore out her life in service and goodwill, most of us would either change the channel or fall asleep before the headlines had even faded from the screen. However, tell the story of a little old lady caught shoplifting and we are all wide eyed with attention, memorizing the details so that we can share them with our co-workers first thing in the morning. And if you happen to know the old lady, or any of her distant relatives, this would of course elevate you to the level of "expert" and many would rely on you for up-to-the-minute updates.

Enough of the Pig flu already! Egyptians put down your rusty rebar, baseball bats, and other pig impaling weapons! It is just another of thousands of virus' to which we have no cure, but can manage with anti-virals. Which can almost entirely be prevented with a ground breaking habit, WASH YOUR HANDS FREQUENTLY! When you sneeze, aim it into the crook of your arm, or a kleenex! If you are otherwise healthy, and you do catch this little devil, do not panic! It will pass over you like a typical flu, and you will get over it! If you are immuno-compromised you are just as likely to catch it as you are any other bug out there, and you will be likewise in danger. Not because of the nature of the bug you catch, but from the fact that you are immuno-compromised. Such as was the case with Marcos.

IHC reports in a newsletter that seasonal (regular) flu causes upwards of 200,000 hospitalizations a year in the U.S. and is responsible for 36,000 deaths. At last count Oink Rot has a death toll of 9. I think falling rocks have more notches on their belts.

One comment on KSL's reporting of Marcos' death. They report that Marcos had chronic respiratory and other illnesses, his sister Rae just had bronchitis and pneumonia, her daughter has come down with something, and Marcos' mother has bacterial pneumonia. This is not the most healthy of situations...Open the windows people and let some fresh air into that little petri dish you call a home.

In completely unrealated news, I am going private, so anyone interested should send me your email so I can grant you rights...etc.

Thanks.

Ok, it is time I pass on a great website that Amy and Ryan turned me on too a few months back. The closing of Marburgers has me scared, I want this place to stay in buisness, and that means they need customers!

Go visit this place if you haven't already. They throw up one deal at a time and give a few minutes to sell out. It is up until it either sells out, or the time expires. The deals are on name brand, full quality items of at least 50% off.

The best part is that the company is located right here in Salt Lake so you can return and exchange in person instead of having to do through the mail.

GO, SHOP, ENJOY. You can thank Amy and Ryan later.

Ode to Marburger; the death of a king.

What can I say?

The day that Marburgers meats opened their doors a few years ago, it was proof that heaven is on earth. For years we have sampled of their tasty kabob's, delightful chicken and pork, stuffed bell peppers, and of course STEAK! But unfortunately an era has passed, Marburgers is closed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I tried to find a picture of orthodox jews renting their clothes and lobbing plumes of ashes in the air, but google failed me. The weird guy with the black arm band was the closest thing I could find to mourning, but this stately fellow does little to mimick the renting of my heart that occured when I learned of said closing.

I had such plans for Marburgers and me! The future looked impossibly bright as I thought of a life filled to the rim with meats, meats, meats! Of course I was naive; who isn't in the early stages of any relationship? Especially when you want, in the very depths of your soul, for things to work out.

Where did we go wrong? The plight of this country and its current ecomomic situation had entirely missed me until it claimed this latest victim. I simply will never love again, no not in the same way. I am damaged goods.

President Obama, you call this hope? Is this the change you had in mind? Curse you, curse you! You will never taste the savory drippings of a New York strip, rubbed of course, as it gently massages your taste buds, and lingers in your dreams for all of eternity! You can have your private chefs, and $20,000 a plate dinners, all we want is our Marburgers back!!!!!!!!

I think I have said enough, words will never do the hurt justice. I must appologies to all of those whom I promised would one day partake of THE RUB! It is too late, and I am sorry. You can hate me, I understand. I hate myself for not stocking up.

Curse Marburgers for taking the secret of his herbs and spices down with him! Pride! Pride goeth before the fall!!!! I am spent.

With what I once thought was proof of terrestrial heaven has instead revealed a spiraling hell. Oh how I long to caress the counter once more, make my selection, and once again hear the cheerful inquiry, "You want it rubbed"? Of course I do, of course I do!!!!!!!!!!!

Viaduct

In Ayrshire stands the oldest surviving railroad viaduct in Scotland, the Laigh Milton. Built in 1812 it spans the river Irvine where it services a major portion of the southwestern corner of the country, providing the life sustaining blood and muscle of industry. Carved in the tired sandstone arches among the morter and the grit is the tracings of a story that caught my eye.

On July the twelfth, 1867 trouble began between two local clans, the Boyds of Kilmarnock and the Stewarts of Darnley. Brew and pride combined to fuel a hot fire of hatred that stemmed from long forgotten trespasses against long forgotten fathers.

Many of the locals found themselves taking sides for various reasons ranging from business interests, to the simple love of a brawl. One of those prescribing to the later was a young hot head by the name of Annick Water. Annick never turned down a fight, ever. It was rumored that he once walked thirteen miles with one shoe on for the chance to bash in the head of the man who hid the other.

And so, you can imagine his reaction when word reached him; as he sat at his dinner table with his beautiful wife Agnes and his two year old son Annick Jr, that the Boyds and Stewarts were at it again. This time they were going to settle things once and for all. You can also imagine the pleading reaction of Agnes who feared for her husband; whom she loved despite his irresponsible tendencies.

Ignoring the plea's of his wife and his child, Annick grabbed his rifle and his coat and ran out into the rain.

In nature there are irrevocable uncertainties, or as Bilbo Baggins put it, "It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you might be swept off to". And so it was on this night that two things occured which couldn't have been foreseen, but should have been considered.

Firstly, when Annick arrived at the tavern he found the confrontation teetering on the brink of hystaria, with chests heaving and man screaming at man. He quickly joined with the Boyds who seemed to be out numbered, and being one of the few sober men present, he found himself hoisted to a position of leadership.

Laying all caution aside he waded in to the muck of hate and fear surrounding him, swaggered up to the eldest of the Stewart boys, and greeted him with the best of his right hook.

The consequences were immediate.

The second unfortunate happening came as a result of the first. As the fight wore on, one of the younger Stewart's decided he would teach Annick a lesson for meddling in his families affairs. And so, with two of his cousins at his side he rode off in the direction of Agnes and Annick Jr.

Agnes heard the horses ride up, and immediately assumed the worse. With a hand to her mouth she started to open the door at the same time the three came bursting in, throwing her to the floor, and knocking her unconscious.

She was aroused a moment later to the sound of glass breaking and Annick Jr crying out for her. Immediately she was on her feet wrapping her arms around him as she ran out into the cold night air, leaving the house in the hands of the three intruders.

Local lore tells that Agnes stumbled through the night with little Annick Jr in her arms until she came upon the river Irvine, swollen with rain. As she crossed the viduct she lost her footing, sending Annick into the rushing water below. Without a moments thought she plunged head first into the chilly water in an effort to save her pleading child. But the water was swift, deep, and unforgiving. Both succumbed.

Some time later Annick returned home, as he rounded the final bend and saw the state that his house was in his heart stopped beating. Panic rose in his throat and a million thoughts, questions, and conclusions collided in his psyche.

Where was Agnes? Annick? Who had done this? How do I find them? Where do I look? Why did I leave them?

A quick search of the house revealed what his heart refused to accept, that his family was no where to be seen. For the first time in his life, Annick felt the full throws of fear as he realized what his actions from earlier may have cost him.

Praying that his wife and child had managed to escape; he felt certain that she would head in the direction of town. The shortest route from their home meant following the railroad tracks. And so he followed them, calling their names at the top of his grief stricken lungs until he came to the Laigh Milton, where he happened to glance to his right and see something that took the wind completely out of his lungs, and for the second time that night, stopped his heart cold. There on the bank, partially submerged in the water, rested one of his wife's shoes.

It was Jay Bee who wrote, "Twice the man rose, in anger and haste. Twice the man fell landing flat on his face. The haughtier the man, the greater the fall. Each time learning little, til he had lost it all".

And so it was with Annick on that dreadful day, his world that was built on his pride and his hate came crashing down leaving him equally broken and equally lost.

But that isn't the worst part of the story. You see, for years he searched the banks of the river hoping to find the bodies of his loved ones and each day he would return to the viaduct to rest. He stopped shaving and showering, and he only ate the lichens and the moss off the stones, an occasional fish and whatever else he could find as he walked and walked. When his friends and his family would try to comfort him he would lash out at them and turn them away, until eventually he was alone with only his guilt, angusih and self pity.

He never left the Laigh Milton. Instead he took up refuge under its arches growing weaker, thinner, and more wild until the locals took to calling him a troll. No one knows when he died, some swear he never did, they claim he just sat down one day and never got up. Allowing the moss and the vines to grow over him he eventually became part of the viaduct itself. Others think he just curled up somewhere and stopped living.

So where is the moral? Why am I telling you about Annick and his wasted life? It is true, if he had stayed home that night, things would have been different. If he had learned to value peace and harmony more than anger, and adrenaline this never would have happened. If, If, If.... But that isn't the point.

Only a half mile to the east of the Leigh Milton there is Maria's spring, and to the west, about the same distance, bubbles Monks Well. For centuries people have pilgrimaged to their waters to be healed of a variety of maladies and hurts. Regardless of what lead them there, all walked away whole.

The point is that Annick's pain, his hurt, his regret was never so deep, so rare, so painful, that a simple walk in either direction wouldn't have taken it all away. For all the walking that he did, he never walked in the right direction, nor to the right location.

The point is, in life when we find ourselves battered and bruised, don't be an Annick. When you find yourself in need of healing make sure you walk in the right direction and to the right location and don't stop until you reach it.

Just thought I would pass it along....

It is finished!

Just a quick broadcast. Nursing school is finally, and offically over. I took boards Wednesday mornigh and this morning at 0100 my Nursing license was posted on DOPL. I promptly went upstairs to inform Ambo of the news and our significant pay raise, and I was met with a "congrats, now either roll over and go back to sleep or go downstairs and lay on the couch so I can go to sleep." Thanks hon, love you too.

And so... I got my life back, and those hag nursing school instructors/administrators will never again have their bony hands around my neck again.

Just thought you might like to know. Idiot nursing instructors.....

Thanks for everyones prayers and support

Jared.