Caving Featurette by Brent Peterson

Now that I've learned how to embed Youtube videos in my blog posts, I decided to upload the entire 4.5 minute featurette that Brent Peterson produced about my caving in 2004. This video gives a good idea of what it's like to go through the "Birth Canal" in Alabaster Cave -- and why it's crucial, if you're my size, to go through in the proper orientation, with the left arm "up" and the right arm "down." As I mentioned in an earlier post, I have since gone through the "Birth Canal" in the proper orientation, again, and had zero problems with it.

Guitar Solo from Ace's "How Long"

Here I am playing the guitar solo from Ace's 1975 hit song "How Long." I'm using my MIM (made in Mexico) "Classic 60s" Fender Stratocaster and my "new" Line 6 Spider II 112 amplifier. I'm not very good at playing other people's solos note-for-note, but for some reason I felt inspired a number of years ago to learn this one.

Las Vegas - The Great Days

This photo of me and my brother-in-law Mike P____, which probably dates to 1995, brings back good memories of fun times spent in Las Vegas in days gone by. Binion's Horseshoe was our favorite hangout, both because it had a preponderance of $2.00 single-deck blackjack games -- not to mention craps games that often had table minimums as low as $0.25 -- and because it offered value in other ways: (1) various food specials in the coffee shop (including a late-night $2.99 New York Strip steak special); (2) generous meal "comps" (a tremendous boon to low-rollers); and (3) free photos with $1 million (consisting of one hundred rare and out-of-circulation $10,000 bills). The casino smelled terrible and had oppressively low ceilings, but it also had tons of old-Vegas character and charm. In short, it (along with the Golden Nugget, before it started targeting a more-upscale clientele) was the heart of downtown Las Vegas.

The decline of the 'Shoe -- which coincided with Benny Binion's daughter Becky Behnen's wresting control of the property from her brother Jack -- was a tragedy to those who knew and had come to love the joint. It wasn't a good sign when the new management immediately did away with the free photos and sold all the ten-thousand-dollar bills (I'm informed they fetched three or four times their face value at auction) and then changed a lot of the games to raise the table minimums and to give the house a bigger advantage. Finally, after the daughter and her husband bled the property completely dry, they sold it off to people who were even more greedy and less knowledgeable about how to operate a casino.

Thus, "Binions" (minus the genitive apostrophe and the "Horseshoe" trademark, which was sold to a different concern) sits there on Fremont Street to this day, a sad shell of what it used to be. I haven't been to Las Vegas in over two years and have little idea what's happening there now, but I do know that practically nothing in downtown Vegas is as it used to be. I guess I've changed, too, pretty much having grown out of whatever penny-ante gambling "jones" I once may have had, but I still miss the old days.

[Update: I've now become aware that "Binions" has new owners who reportedly are interested in trying to restore the property to something approximating its former greatness. I doubt that will translate into $2.00 single-deck blackjack, $0.25 craps with 100x odds, and easy meal "comps," but maybe it will mean $5.00 single-deck "3:2" blackjack, $3.00 craps with 10x odds, and a few meal specials. That would be a start -- and if Vegas in general continues to tank along with the overall economy, the downtown properties may start targeting low-rollers again in earnest.]

October Family Update

There isn't exactly a lot going on in our family right now, but here's a run-down. Kiley decided to start playing the electric bass with her high school's jazz band (with her friend, Brittany Remund, who plays trumpet), so she dropped Italian and now has two music classes. Kiley also got her driver's license and from now on will be driving to seminary and school. We were tabbed to be one of the "work houses" for the Albuquerque Youth Symphony luminaria fundraiser, and we'll be pretty busy with all of that up through "Luminaria Day," December 6. Dorine and I were able to put a few lengths of pressboard up in our attic space above the garage, laying them across the joists for shelving, and then I moved some stuff up there from the garage for storage. (It helped, but I'd still like to get more crap off the garage floor!) I have a caving trip planned for November 7-9 with Rod Williamson, Jimmy Williamson, and Jim Rasmussen (and possibly others, depending on who can go). We're going to the high Guads in southern New Mexico and have secured permits for Cottonwood Cave, Black Cave, Hidden Cave, and Pink Dragon Cave -- nothing particularly gut-clenching, with Hidden being the only one of the four that entails vertical rope work (aside from a gratuitous long, dead-end drop in Pink Dragon that I think we'll skip this time). I'm still struggling to sleep through the night, but so far I've been able to avoid getting back on the medication treadmill. I received a calling as a temple worker in the Albuquerque Temple and have worked on two Wednesday evenings so far; last night I even worked on the "receiving" side of the veil for a Spanish endowment session -- pretty good for a noob! (I'm hoping my temple calling will both strengthen my testimony and help me develop more affinity for other church members.)

Darren is still working in Jesús de Otoro, Honduras with his missionary companion Elder Capiona, and they've even had a few baptisms in between all their work with the members of the branch. Devery is still hard at work on finishing her degree this semester and finding a job so that she can help support the family while Easton continues to work on his degree. Easton was selected for a team representing BYU in the construction-management area, which will be going to Las Vegas for a competition. Heidi and Dion continue to work, and Kayla will have her second birthday in a few weeks. Kristy and Chris are busy with their kids' sports and other activities, and the twins are now seven months old. Chris is a little tired of the up-and-down nature of the auto-mechanic trade and has talked about going into law enforcement, probably with the county sheriff's department.

Confessions of an Anti-Social Mormon - Part 2

Every now and then I sit through a discussion in priesthood meeting that practically causes me to have a brain hemorrhage, and, unfortunately, yesterday's lesson in the high priests group fit into that category. The topic of the lesson was the three degrees of glory and, specifically, what the requirements are for someone to reach the highest level of the Celestial Kingdom. The instructor used a "basketball" analogy, suggesting that perhaps those who attain that level of glory are like NBA all-stars -- veritable Kobe Bryants and LeBron Jameses of the spiritual realm! Curiously, at no point did the Atonement of Jesus Christ enter the discussion, notwithstanding the fact that King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon (see the stock illustration with my...ahem... modifications) assures us that we're all "unprofitable servants" and cannot abide a celestial glory absent the grace of Christ. Nor did the Parable of the Talents come up in the discussion, in which Christ plainly taught that each person can receive the greatest reward based on what he does with the natural gifts that are bestowed on him. Finally, one might have thought to bring up the example of the Widow's Mite (or, rather, two mites), in which Christ made clear that the magnitude, in absolute terms, of a person's contributions in the kingdom isn't nearly so important as what those contributions represent relative to the person's means and resources.

If one injects the foregoing into the instructor's "basketball" analogy, it seems the following is true. One, that no one attains "NBA all-star" status based wholly on his own natural gifts or even his long years of practicing his "spin move." Two, that one may not require great natural gifts to tie into that great "$100 million contract with the Lakers" in the sky. And three, that it's conceivable that a relatively small contribution on the part of the lowliest of church members may well secure that person a spot in God's "starting lineup," ahead of people whose gaudy "scoring averages" bespeak much-greater abilities in an absolute sense -- it may all depend on circumstances and what's in the person's heart.

I have to believe all this is true, for otherwise I'm wasting my time, my substance, and what little remains of my self-esteem after a lifetime of attending church, and otherwise associating, with other LDS church members who seem all too eager to deny the efficacy of the Atonement and the scope of its effect on the poor in spirit (who, after all, are supposed to be the ones inheriting the Kingdom of Heaven at some point). Does a person have a chance who pays his tithes and offerings, obeys the Word of Wisdom, lives the Law of Chastity, attends the temple once in a while, helps out on the occasional service project, sings in the ward choir, and loves his wife and family so much that he continues to attend church, week in and week out, with people whom he doesn't particularly care for (and vice versa)? Does it matter that he simply doesn't have the emotional resources to do much more than that?

I can't say, except that I'm glad God's ways are not man's ways and that, presumably, his judgments are wiser than those of most people I know.

Carlsbad Trip - Staying with the Twitchells

Dorine, Kiley, and I are spending part of a long weekend in Carlsbad, New Mexico with Chad and JoAnn Twitchell, friends of ours who lived in our ward before moving down here about five years ago. (Chad took a position down here in the Waste Isolation Pilot Plant [WIPP] program, which Sandia National Laboratories manages.) Chad and JoAnn currently have four of their six kids at home -- Kate is married and living in Utah with her husband Justin, and Paul is in Albuquerque attending UNM -- although it is anticipated that Curtis will start serving a church mission before the end of the year, leaving only Holly, Sophie, and Kenny at home. I very much like Chad and JoAnn's home (see photo), which simply oozes 1950s-era charm, and in many ways I envy their being able to have a simpler, small-town lifestyle. Dorine, Kiley, and I took our usual jaunt down to Carlsbad Caverns this afternoon and toured the Caverns, starting at the natural entrance (see other photo). I always enjoy the awe-inspiring walk through the cave, although it's pretty obvious that it only gets a fraction of the tourist traffic that it had, say, fifty or sixty years ago. The drive down here is much more pleasant now that U.S. 285 is a four-lane divided highway all the way from the Clines Corners exit off I-40. We'll hang out most of tomorrow with the Twitchells before driving back, but it looks like we will not stay a third night as I'd hoped.

Hiking Again - South Sandia Peak

Today I was finally able to take the third of three hikes in the Sandia Mountains that I wanted to do this year. This time I went by myself, starting at the top of Menaul Blvd. and taking what Mike Coltrin's Sandia Mountain Hiking Guide calls the "Whitewash Trail." The top photo, taken from Google Earth (double-click for detail), shows my approximate route, which traces a more-or-less clockwise path from the starting point on the left. I first wandered my way up to the first little promontory at the head of Whitewash Canyon. From there, I was able to locate the main "ridge" trail, which skirts around the north side of the ridge, along the head of what the topo map calls "Long Canyon," before following the rest of the ridge, up and down, to Oso Pass. (I'd never been on the "ridge" route before, which is surprisingly well-defined most of the way up, even if it seems to meander its way past every boulder or rock outcrop en route.) At Oso Pass, I got on the upper part of the Embudito Trail, which is unrelentingly steep until it finally curves around to the east shortly before its terminus at the South Crest Trail, and then I took the little spur trail that leads directly to South Sandia Peak, which trail, judging from its well-worn condition, must receive a lot of traffic these days. (The photo on the right shows the approach to South Peak on the spur trail -- guess I needed to clean the lens on my camera.) I felt pretty crappy on most of the ascent, so I was surprised that I made it all the way to the top in three hours, fifty minutes -- pretty good time for me, given the difficult route.

I ate lunch at South Peak, snapped a few photos (see the photo on the left, which looks down on the ridge that I came up), and wrote in my journal for a few minutes. Then I went down off the back of the peak to find the enchanting little canyon we'd found in 2001 while backpacking with the scouts, which is notable for both its thick stand of aspens and a number of limestone pillars that resemble statuary. From there, I made my way east to the South Crest Trail, then took a swing past Deer Pass (one of my five favorite camping spots in the world) on my way back down the Embudito Trail. I'd already decided not to take the ridge back down, so at Oso Pass I took the Three Gun Spring Trail down to the Embudo Trail (the upper part of which is only barely recognizable as a "trail"), and followed Embudo Canyon all the way back down to where my truck was parked. (It was definitely the long way down!)

I was almost totally spent at the end, having been gone for nearly eight hours and hiking most of that time. It was a pretty ambitious hike, one that I'm not sure I'll ever care to repeat at this stage of my life. However, South Peak is perhaps the most-enchanting area of the Sandias -- in large part because there's no easy way to get there -- and I'm sure I'll see it again soon.

Bouldering at U-Mound, Sandia Foothills

Here's some video, self-taken (hence its being off-frame), of me doing an easy (V0) boulder problem at U-Mound, which is located in the Sandia foothills between Lomas and Copper. (The sequence I'm doing here is one of the easier variations of the "I-2" problem described in Andy Mayer's "A Guide to U-Mound Bouldering," found at http://www.cs.unm.edu/~moret/u-mound.html.) I'd like to do a lot more climbing in the boulders than I currently do, but it's difficult to find time to do much of anything these days. There's been so much erosion around some of the boulders at U-Mound in recent years that I can't even get off the ground on a few "problems" that I used to be able to do. That which I'm still capable of doing, however, is good exercise, and I enjoy the outdoor recreation.

Buoying Up McCain: Our Tone-Deaf Media

I don't have much else to say about this year's presidential election, except that the manner in which most of the major news media have dropped all pretense of objectivity in seeking to secure a victory for Barack Obama has been positively breathtaking. That the election is still pretty much a toss-up at this point, even with the threats to (and pending broad-scale government intervention in) our financial markets, is a testament to the fact that traditional media no longer exercise nearly as much influence on public opinion as they'd like to think they do. Moreover, there is profound irony in the fact that the media's extremely biased reporting -- especially their utter refusal to scrutinize/publicize Obama's record and life history as they've done to his opposition, not to mention their completely glossing over the various idiotic things that Joe Biden has said (e.g., regarding President Franklin Roosevelt's supposedly going on television in 1929 to reassure the public about the stock market crash) -- seems actually to be causing a fair number of marginal Democrats to consider voting for McCain/Palin. In my observations, these media types aren't stupid, which suggests that they must know the effect their unfair reporting is having on swing voters. But they simply can't help it! The emotions that this election is eliciting, especially on the left, are producing a certain tone-deaf desperation that even Freud couldn't rationalize, making one wonder whether more than a few heads won't explode if McCain wins. (Me? I think it will be a shame if Obama wins, but I also think our country's institutions will survive four years of him, just like they survived four years of Jimmy Carter. I don't anticipate his being elected a second time if, perchance, he wins on this go-round.)

It's apparent that most Democrats and their fellow travelers in the media believe that Republicans are a dull, unintelligent lot (never mind evil and malicious). However, it bears pointing out, as more than one pundit has done, that the Democrats managed to nominate their sole candidate (not counting the moonbat-magnet Dennis Kucinich) who could lose this election, whereas the Republicans nominated their lone candidate who could win it. That tells me a lot.

Sixth Grade at McCollum Elementary

While I'm on this run of autobiographical posts, I thought I might as well upload the attached "class picture" from my sixth-grade year at McCollum Elementary School. I still have good memories of that year, which in some ways seems as though it happened yesterday. My teacher was Mrs. Whitmore, who was easily my most-sympathetic teacher to that point. The principal was Mr. Montman, who was in his first year at the school after his predecessor, Miss Morrow, retired. (My most enduring memory of Mr. Montman was from years later, when I was a senior in high school. He had been appointed to some kind of obscenity commission in Albuquerque that was tasked with determining whether the porn film Deep Throat offended community standards of decency. As he was leaving the theater, a local television news reporter asked him what he thought of the movie; his response -- something to the effect of "It was great! I thought it was the funniest thing I ever saw!" -- was rather telling, I thought.)

I could say a lot about my sixth-grade year, but I'll keep it relatively short. First, I remember I had a crush that year on Jeri Locke, which seems strange now. She was LDS, although her family was only marginally active in church when they moved to Albuquerque and went completely inactive shortly thereafter. Second, Duane Dalby was the third Mormon in the class and lived on my street, although he moved to Grand Junction, CO with his mother when his parents divorced a couple of years later. (Down the road, he and I went through the MTC at roughly the same time; he went to the Chile Santiago North mission, and we actually saw each other in Santiago a couple of times, too.) And third, I'll never forget a very funny classroom episode that happened that year. Most of the boys in the class were fairly expert at shooting spitwads; the usual delivery system was the shell of a Bic pen used as a blowgun, but one day, during "reading" time after lunch, I was experimenting with a 6" plastic ruler used as a catapult. Unfortunately, I overshot my intended target and the spitwad hit Mrs. Whitmore on the arm. (I still have a vivid mental picture of her being so startled that she practically jumped out of her chair!) She immediately got up and started grilling all the boys in the class to try to identify the culprit, but, luckily, the fact that it could have been any one of eight or nine kids gave me "plausible deniability," and I escaped punishment. (Yes...I lied.)

I can actually remember all of the kids' first names and most of their last names. Top Row: Mr. Montman, Mrs. Whitmore, John Lindsey, Toni Lopez, Mitch Magee, Kim Olson, Stan Esquibel, Dolores Trujillo. Second Row: Mary Weimer, Amy Harris, Patrick Sena, Elisa Banda. Third Row: Tom Eaker, Jeanette Vigil, David Lewis, Linda Peña, James Snider, Perri Stovall, Duane Dalby, Colleen Kimble. Fourth Row: Jeri Locke, Elizabeth Plumley, Jeff Kamin, Trina Stewart, Steve Gallegos, Cheryl MacKay. Bottom Row: Paul  Jones, Cella Dewey, Shawn Herringer, Laura Madrid, Clarence Montoya, me, Todd ____.

Playing Softball with the Saints

I played softball for a lot of years in the city church league with the Albuquerque Saints, a team formed by Pat Wallace and Tony Collyer that consisted over the years almost entirely of LDS church members. I came to love playing softball -- I can honestly say that until I had acute cerebral flatulence in 1993 and had radial keratotomy done on my eyes, which severely impaired my ability to see a ball under lights (or to tell how fast the ball was coming at me, day or night), I would almost rather play softball than eat. Slow-pitch softball is a hitter's game, but my favorite part was playing in the outfield and chasing down fly balls, and the frustration and humiliation of not being able to see the ball finally made me give up the game in, I think, 1997.

We were a pretty good team and won our league most of the years I played, although we always had it handed to us when we went to big out-of-town tournaments (e.g., in Show Low, AZ and Dallas, TX). Pat still has a Saints team, although I'm not sure how many of the original guys (most of whom are now in their early-to-mid fifties) still play. I played a few games with them several years ago -- I could still hit the ball well, but I had to play catcher and watch all the younger guys on the team run circles around me.

This photo was taken in my first year with the team in 1984. I remember I had a bad hitting year that season -- slow-pitch softball is all about feeling comfortable and confident at the plate and in the field, and I hadn't yet developed that kind of confidence in my playing -- but, thankfully, Pat and Tony kept me on the team. I hit my peak in 1990, when the team voted me their MVP, something I still consider an honor. It was sad that I had to give up softball a number of years before my time, but there was a positive outcome in that I turned to less-competitive forms of recreation that drew me closer to nature.

My First Car - 1978 Fiat Strada

In the summer of 1982, my sister Kristen took a roll of photos of me; the intent was for me to have pictures to send to people I'd known in Chile, but I ended up keeping a few of the prints, including this one. It shows me in front of my parents' house with my first car, a 1978 Fiat Strada that my parents helped me buy in August 1981 from Tracy Carroll's dad Bill, a car wholesaler. My Strada, which I drove until 1989 (at which time Dorine and I replaced it with a used Mercury Topaz), was an interesting, if temperamental car that simply did not like to run in cold weather. It had a surprising amount of interior room for a small car, and it was fun and economical to drive (well, most of the time). I had more than a few epic experiences in it, but two stand out in my mind. The first was the time I broke down late at night in Lybrook, NM on the way home from BYU for Christmas in 1981 (and had to call my mother and brother Roger to come tow me home in a snowstorm). The second was the time Jeff Jolley and I drove up to Sanford, CO to play with the Albuquerque 11th Ward team in the regional softball tournament in August 1983. Timewise, we were cutting things close anyway, leaving Albuquerque late, but what made things worse was that neither of us knew the route from Española, NM to the San Luis Valley, and we were well on the way to Taos before we realized we were on the wrong road. We didn't have time to backtrack, so we drove across the Rio Grande Gorge bridge, and fifteen miles of dirt roads, to get back on U.S. 285. By that time, we were so far behind schedule that we had to drive 90 mph the rest of the way -- looking back, I'm surprised my car would even go that fast -- and we pulled up to the field just a few seconds before our team would have had to forfeit. (Ironically, that first game was against the Albuquerque 6th Ward, my home ward, of which my father was still bishop at the time.)

BYU - Living at Deseret Towers

This photo, taken by my friend and fellow "KNOB" Galen Kekauoha, shows me sometime in the fall of 1977, playing my Gibson SG electric guitar in the dorm room I shared with Bob Maes in BYU's Deseret Towers dorm complex. I had worked that spring in Albuquerque, bagging groceries in a food store, to get the money to buy a nice electric guitar; I wanted a Gibson Les Paul, but in the end I wasn't quite able to save enough money -- hence my buying the SG instead. Deseret Towers has now been razed, or is in the process of being razed, which points up the growing unpopularity of on-campus housing in Provo. I kept the SG until 1984, when I sold it to buy the diamond for Dorine's engagement ring. I wish I still had it, especially since it would be worth some serious coin now. (I sold it for $225 in the days when every kid wanted to have big hair and play a fluorescent-pink Jackson Soloist. It would be worth perhaps seven or eight times that much now)

Seeing this picture now brings back a lot of memories. I was in my 4%-body fat days. We lived on the south side of the top floor of "T" Hall, which is/was situated between two other halls; thus, we had no clear view of anything besides "U" Hall to the south. I was seriously homesick most of the fall semester, but fortunately friends like Bob and Galen helped me stick things out.

I still have the leather guitar strap with my name on it (a very 70s sort of fetish), which a fellow student from my high school named Joe Lifke made for me right about the time I bought the SG (and for which he only charged me $8.00, as I remember). It still looks and functions like new, although with the extra girth that my body has acquired over time, my guitar rides quite a bit higher than it used to--and my name appears on my shoulder, almost!

The 11th Ward - Coda

Here are photos of Shawna M______ (left) and Sue A______ (right); I'm pretty sure I don't have a photo of Barbara T______. Out of curiosity, I googled Shawna's name and found that, indeed, she lives in the Seattle area. I also found a recent photo of her that strongly suggests that she is of a different "orientation" now, which is both surprising and, well, not surprising, given that she always swam against the stream. (One wonders to what extent jerk-y boyfriends -- obsessively clingy, insufferably priggish, and unable to accept rejection [describes me to a tee] -- figured in that change.) Sue is no longer listed in the phone directory as a lawyer, at least under her maiden name; thus I don't know if she and her husband still live in the Albuquerque area.

And -- I can't resist it -- here is the full set of lyrics to the song I mentioned in my earlier post: 

Journal (sung to "Diary"; words by D.R. Watkins III and R.A. Lenberg II [with tongues firmly in cheek])

I found the bishop's journal in a drawer,

And started reading of our ward,

Of all the sinful things that they'd confessed

Unto the bishop and the Lord.

I read of all the sick, perverted things they'd done.

Couldn't believe it --

Wish I had seen it!

I read where Patty after her first date

Went home and told her mom, "Steve's great!"

Displayed the marks he gave her at the Crest;

She even has one on her...arm.

And who would ever think Bill Steagall has a whip?

Couldn't believe it --

Wish I had seen it!

And as I looked through the book,

How my testimony shook,

But I liked it just the same.

I read how Ron went on a date with Pam;

They went out cycling by the Tram.

They hit a rock, both fell, Ron would be dead --

Pam amply cushioned up his head.

And Kevin Kartchner's got a new girl half his age.

Who's dating Sue now?

If Lowell only knew now.

And as Craig goes through his life,

All he thinks of is a wife,

And whose home teaching is done.

I put the journal back inside the drawer.

I didn't need to read much more.

I'd read enough sins in one afternoon

To make a filthy movie soon.

And all these marriages,

I now know why they're rushed:

They just can't wait now --
She's two weeks late now. 

As I go to church of late,

I now know which girls to date

For the best time I can have...

For the best time I can have.

(Well, I said we were pretty irreverent....)

["Patty" was Patty McGraw, a nice girl with a great sense of humor. "Steve" was Steve Schulte, Patty' s then-future husband. "Ron" was Ron Wiser, who eventually married Cindy Shupe and is now the stake president in Roswell, NM. "Pam" was Pam Aguilar, who, as the lyrics suggest, was both well-endowed and fitness-minded. "Sue," of course, was Sue A______, and "Lowell" was Lowell Huber, who dated Sue before I did. "Craig" was Craig Mortensen, who, in addition to being elders quorum president, was well-known for hitting on all the new girls in the ward. (Craig married a girl named Cissy Reazin in the summer of 1981, but by the time I came back from BYU in May 1982, he was already divorced and back doggin' the girls in 11th Ward.) Bill Steagall was a very strait-laced fellow from Brazil (his slave-holding forbears moved there after the American Civil War, and he spoke native-level English and Portuguese), who eventually married Melissa Maw.]

[Update 1/4/2011: Sue's senior annual from Highland HS has been uploaded to Classmates.com, and here is a bad copy (taken from a screen shot) of her school photo from it.  I didn't know Sue until years later, but she obviously was übercute as a teenager -- very pretty eyes and exotic good looks.  (I'd also say that straight[er] hair suited her better than the perm she wore in 1983.)  Reportedly, she dated a fellow named Randy G______ for a long time before deciding to serve a church mission; in fact, more than one person later expressed surprise to me that the two of them had not gotten married, but of course not all long-term dating relationships result in marriage.  I'm glad things have apparently turned out well for her -- she had a lot on the ball, certainly more than I ever did.]

[Update 1/5/2011: Here's what I seriously doubt is Barbara T_____'s favorite photo of herself -- her ninth-grade school picture from the 1976 West Mesa HS yearbook.  (It's amazing what one can dredge up on Classmates.com these days; "Gold" membership indeed has its privileges.)  I met Barbara five-plus years later, when she was twenty and had blossomed significantly.  She was working as a legal secretary and was bright enough to steer clear of me for the most part; she could see, at a time when she had me fairly bedazzled, that our respective neuroses weren't a good combination.  I have to assume she married a lawyer at some point, and I hope she found happiness.  (I once wrote a song for her, which I still sometimes play now, called "If You Want Me" -- to pose the condition was to respond to it in the negative)]

[Update 2/27/2011: Here's Shawna M______'s ninth-grade school picture from the 1980 Eldorado HS yearbook.  It's interesting to me for the fact that she appears to have affected something of a "mannish" look as a high-school freshman that she didn't have at age eighteen when I knew her (see her senior [twelfth-grade] picture above).  I would never have pegged her as having same-sex attraction during the short time that we dated -- and neither would her friends from that era [her best friend at the time is now one of my "friends" on Facebook] -- but now I'm wondering if there were signs of it earlier in her life. I guess one never knows.]

[Update 3/14/11: Here is a photo of Barbara T______ from roughly the period in which I was interested in her.  It came from an upload to the Facebook group that people created for 11th Ward Alumni.  Barbara doesn't look as attractive here as she remains in my memory, but she did start wearing contact lenses at one point, revealing pretty eyes.

Here is a photo that someone had from Sue A_____'s mission in Argentina; Sue (L) is standing here with a missionary companion.  This would have been around 1981.

"I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole"

[Update 7/28/11: I found this photo on Facebook, too.  It didn't mean much when I first looked at it -- just another photo from a ward activity in 1981 -- but when I examined it more closely, it made me laugh out loud.  I'm in the yellow shirt on the left, playing my guitar and hoping to impress Barbara T_____, who's standing on the right and is purposely keeping her distance from me (while looking like she might be having second thoughts -- either that, or she's annoyed at her sister Penny, to my immediate right, for standing so close to me).  What a perfect illustration for me of that summer's frustrations!  I can't really understand now my attraction to Barbara then, although I'm not sure I ever quite got over her rejecting me; however, I'm guessing I would finally let it go if I saw a recent photo of her.  (Not that I look any better after the ravages of thirty years.)]  

 [Update 7/3/14: There have been quite a few more yearbooks posted recently on Classmates.com from Albuquerque-area high schools, including Barbara T______'s 1979 senior annual from West Mesa HS.  It contains this picture of Barbara -- a much-better photo than her 9th-grade school picture, I must say.  It's funny how some high schools continued, in the late 70s and beyond, to make girls bare their shoulders, and boys to wear tuxedos (with bow ties, no less), for their senior pictures.  I still haven't seen a recent photo of Barbara, although I did meet up with her sister Penny, who still lives in the Albuquerque area but no longer attends the LDS Church, at last year's 11th Ward reunion.  I think I've finally exorcised my 11th Ward "ghosts."  Lyle and Wilma Porter's A History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in New Mexico notes both the creation of the 11th Ward on September 24, 1978 (from what had previously been the student branch/ward) and its dissolution on August 3, 1986.  Somehow I'd had it in my head that the ward had lasted a few years longer than that, but it sort of makes sense now that I know.]

[Update 4/19/16: Here it is -- the "recent" photo of Barbara (alongside her husband Kary Simcox) that I've been wanting to see for years.  Time appears to have treated her fairly gently, although the pic still represents a species of "resolution" for me.]

Sleep Re-ordered, Part 2

I've been off sleep meds now for six weeks; I wish I could report that I've been sleeping soundly for a solid six or seven hours every night, but unfortunately that isn't the case. I can fall asleep very easily most nights, but the difficulty is in staying asleep. The "VPAP Adapt SV" machine is still treating my problems with sleep apnea effectively, and I currently have no major psychological issues that impede my sleep (otherwise, past experience has shown that I would be having problems falling asleep). Therefore, it appears to me that the problem is one of environment, which is turning out to be extremely complex in light of the many factors in play, any one (or more) of which can be the thing that prevents my falling back asleep: (1) Dorine's snoring and her general night-time restlessness; (2) the discomfort associated with wearing a full-face mask and foam earplugs; (3) stomach upset from swallowing air coming from the "VPAP" machine; (4) a full bladder from drinking too many liquids before retiring; (5) frustration caused by restricted movement due to the mask and the attached air hose; (6) a hot-cold cycle (common in the fall and spring) that has me alternately pulling the covers on and then throwing them off; (7) occasional caffeine intake too late in the evening (Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper are the usual culprits); (8) indigestion resulting from my tendency to eat a late meal before bedtime; and (9) adrenaline overloads from going to the gym too late in the evening. (Oh, and I guess I can add one more to the list -- using a too-hard pillow while lying on our new pillow-top mattress, which apparently is what has caused the stiff neck I've had for the last two weeks.) Managing all these things requires extensive planning, something I haven't yet come close to mastering; however, I'm hoping it will become second nature to me over time. I'm still overjoyed at not having to take sleep medications, but I'm a little dismayed by the fact that I'm not sleeping any better or feeling any better during the day. This is obviously going to take some time!

(The attached photo was a joke played on me by a co-worker, who photoshopped my face onto an image of Tom Hanks playing Forrest Gump. Given this topic, it's somewhat appropriate -- lack of sleep makes me feel mentally challenged a lot of the time!)

The Bubble Bursts

I've often thought about the process of growing up and all the painful moments of self-discovery that I've experienced in my nearly fifty years of life. There were the early ones, such as the realization (a) that I would never be a great athlete, (b) that I was not endowed with genius-level intelligence, and (c) that most of the girls whom I regarded as attractive were not attracted to me. However, I have to say that the greatest disillusionments of my life were reserved for my adulthood. First: that, unlike me, not every Mormon kid of my generation grew up believing that it was more or less a doctrinal imperative to have a low sense of self-worth and an impaired sense of ambition. Quite literally, a day doesn't go by that I don't feel the far-reaching effects of what I call "King Benjamin Syndrome," yet it's obvious now, judging from the overinflated egos I continually encounter in the church, that I didn't have to view myself as slime or consider it wrong to want to excel in some worldly pursuit.

Second: that the management paradigm on the administrative side of Sandia National Laboratories, where I work, has gradually gone from being almost strictly meritocratic to being, well, something else -- which has caused me to realize that I'm wedged squarely under the proverbial "glass ceiling." It was nice to leave the CFO organization (the most-glaring bastion of the new philosophies) three years ago and move out to the "line," where at least I'm able to provide direct financial support to managers and staff of a technical organization. However, now all of the "line" admin personnel are being sucked back into the CFO organization, which I regard as the surest sign of the company's ongoing descent into the maelstrom of abject irrelevancy. The worst part is that I have no other choices -- after sixteen years at Sandia, my only real option is to keep doing what I'm doing until retirement in another 9-14 years (and hope that there still is a Sandia for that length of time).

And third: that my lifestyle -- which is dominated by having to go to work and then having to attend various church meetings, activities, and service projects -- is largely incompatible with the things that I find most rewarding in life: romance, spontaneity, creativity, travel, and outdoor recreation. One of the good things about working at Sandia is having no shortage of annual leave and other days off; however, I still find it extremely difficult to devote resources to those things that, to me, make life worth living.

I don't ask for much, since many of the things that I enjoy cost little or nothing. But will things ever change?

Kiley's First AYS Concert

These photos are from Kiley's first "official" concert with the Albuquerque Youth Symphony, at UNM's Popejoy Hall on September 14, 2008. The first is a view of the group warming up before the concert, taken from the mezzanine. The second is a shot of Kiley with Bethany Roper, a friend from our ward who plays the harp. The third photo shows Kiley with her private cello teacher, Pamela DeLisse (third from left), and Pamela's other AYS cello pupils, Johnny Mok and Katie Dunlap. The group sounded remarkably good for having such a long program to prepare in about six or seven weeks together!

The 11th Ward – The Original Singles Ward in Albuquerque

I attended the Albuquerque 11th Ward, a now-defunct singles ward in the Albuquerque Stake, during the summer of 1981 and, then, the two-year period between May 1982 and May 1984. The ward met at the old Indian School seminary building on the corner of Cutler Avenue and 9th Street NW (which building the church no longer owns). Since it was the only unit that met there, it kept the same “optimal” Sunday meeting schedule (10 am to 1 pm) the entire time I was there, and in addition maintained the “traditional” order of meetings (priesthood meeting [and Relief Society], followed by Sunday School, with sacrament meeting at the end).

Initially, 11th Ward was a fun and exciting place to be, and I enjoyed most of the activities and being around other young LDS single adults. My closest friends there were Tracy Carroll and Ken Mantlo, whose father Dick was bishop of the ward until he was called in 1982 to the stake presidency of the then-new Albuquerque South Stake (being succeeded as bishop by Tony Aguilar, who was later called to be president of the South Stake). I regret to say, however, that eventually the social aspects of membership in the ward almost completely overwhelmed the spiritual aspects, to the point where about all we did was have fun, often with pretty irreverent overtones.

Still, the ward served its purpose in marrying off lots of couples, even if I wasn’t able to find the right girl there. I can’t remember how many girls there were in the ward in whom I had a passing romantic interest, but three stand out in my mind now. The first was Barbara T______, who I think was from the old 3rd Ward and graduated from West Mesa HS. Barbara was the object of my attentions in the summer of 1981 (and beyond), although she paid only enough attention to me to "keep me hanging on"; I don’t know what became of her, although she moved to Denver and may still live there. The second was Sue A______, who was from the old 1st Ward (having graduated from Highland HS) and was on a mission to Argentina when I first attended the 11th Ward in 1981. Sue, who was a dental hygienist when she and I dated, later went to law school at BYU and became a successful medical-malpractice defense attorney, and I think she married a doctor. The third was Shawna M______, a pretty girl (originally from the old 8th Ward and, at that time, a recent graduate of Eldorado HS) who was (a) rebellious (and thus "dangerous"), and (b) six years my junior. I went fairly ga-ga for Shawna in the summer of 1983, even though she was headed to BYU and I knew things would never work out. She may live in the Pacific Northwest now, but I really don't know. I still have fond memories of all three of these girls -- I wouldn't guess whether they'd say the same about me -- even though my marrying any of them probably would have been a disaster (for both parties) in the end.

Some of my best memories of 11th Ward include the following. The many dances we had, including the memorable one at the Institute building that a number of us guys showed up for in drag. Going to movies at various theaters around town on dollar night (i.e., Tuesday). The “gong” show for which Ken, Tracy, and I put together a “punk” band called “Joe Regulator and the Little Factories” (which male church members will recognize as a reference to Boyd K. Packer's To Young Men Only). The New Year's Eve party in 1982/83 for which Jeff Jolley rented a suite at the Airport Marina Hotel. The Halloween party I went to dressed as a “blind cholo flasher.” (Of course, I did have clothes on under my overcoat, along with a sheet of paper pinned to my shorts that said "Sorry! You did not win this time! Keep trying!") The ward “movie night” for which five or six groups of people put together videos. (Bootleg copies of those videos have circulated for years -- man, I wish I had one!) The talent show in which some of us were Danielle Aleman’s backing group as she sang “Wedding Bell Blues” to her long-time boyfriend Jeff Jolley. (They later married and then divorced.) Hanging out with Dickerson Watkins, the coolest gay friend I’ve ever had (though none of us knew he was gay at the time). Ward campouts (a) up near Cuba (1981), (b) at Elephant Butte Lake (1982), and (c) in the Jemez Mountains (1983). (On the latter trip, Dickerson and Bob Lenberg came up with side-splitting alternative lyrics to the Bread tune “Diary,” which lampooned the ward [I found the bishop’s journal in a drawer / And started reading of our ward…] and various people in it, including me [...And Kevin Kartchner's got a new girl half his age -- a reference to Shawna M_______].) And numerous church basketball and softball games/tournaments, including the 1983 regional basketball tournament in Albuquerque (where I was voted to the all-tournament team), and the 1983 regional softball tournament in Sanford, CO (where, in a real travesty of justice, I most undeservedly won the MVP award).

The photos above are from the aforementioned overnight trip to Elephant Butte Lake in the summer of 1982; the girls "posing" with me in the first shot are Debbie Berger (L) and Yvonne Collyer (R). I'd ridden down to the lake earlier in the day with them and Danielle Aleman, and Danielle took the photo as we were joking around, waiting for everyone else to show up. Yvonne was going out with Ken Mantlo at the time, and Debbie was on what was then presumed to be a temporary hiatus from a long-term relationship with Mark Aguilar, so we were "just friends." (I honestly don't know what's become of Yvonne, despite the fact that I see her brother Tony quite frequently [and Dorine works every day with Tony's wife Tracy]. Debbie eventually married a fellow named Darrell Stephens, and I think they still live in the Albuquerque area.)

Things were never really the same in the ward for me after first Tracy, then Ken, got married, and I finally got tired of the dating scene -- or, in my case, the non-dating scene -- there. (The biggest factor, I remember, was feeling like I had lost face after making a fool of myself one too many times.)  Thus I finally went back to my home ward in May 1984 and started going out with Dorine; looking back, it's easy for me to see the hand of God in all this!

The 11th Ward limped on for several years in the mid-to-late 1980s, but finally it was disbanded, in part due to pressure from the Albuquerque East Stake leadership, who never seemed to like the fact that many of their young adults were attending a ward outside their jurisdiction. (I think we were having way too much fun from their perspective!) The East Stake later created its own singles ward (now known as the Eubank Ward), and I understand there is now also a west-side singles branch in the West Stake.

When the movie The Singles Ward came out in 2002, I tried not to like it, thinking it wouldn’t appeal to my sense of humor. However, the writers must actually have attended a singles ward at some point, because much of the satire was dead-on in my experience.

New Changes for Darren

Although Darren was expecting to spend at least one more six-week period in Comayagua training Elder Osorio, he received a surprise transfer to a small town further west called Jesús de Otoro. There he'll serve as both district leader (over two pairs of missionaries, including his own companionship) and branch president; needless to say, he's feeling a little overwhelmed by all the added responsibilities, but he must also feel good that his mission president has that kind of confidence in him. His new companion is Elder Capiona, a Bolivian. The attached photo shows Darren at a Primary activity in the small chapel there at Jesús de Otoro. Darren will hit his "hump day" this Friday, September 12 -- now he has a few added challenges as he starts the second year of his mission!

Life's a Rollercoaster - Family Update

Moving into September, here are some of the things that are happening in our family. Devery and Easton are now back at BYU and are living once again in south Provo. Devery will be finishing her degree this semester, taking 19 hours (!) of mostly business-related courses. Darren is about to hit the one-year mark on his mission and at present is still training a new missionary in Comayagua. We need to start looking into what it will take to get him back into school, anticipating that he'll be able to return a couple of weeks early next August so that he can return to BYU for the (entire) fall semester. Kiley is starting her junior year of high school and is busy with honors classes, early-morning seminary, and her cello-playing. Heidi and Kristy and their families are busy and have their trials. Dorine is back working as an EA at Chelwood Elementary School, and I hope to have a few recreational opportunities this fall -- a trip to Carlsbad over the APS fall break; a couple more hikes in the Sandias (South Peak, Piedra Lisa Spring); and a caving trip to the Guadalupe Mountains in November. So far I've resisted the idea of another trip to Las Vegas, where I haven't been now in almost two years.

I'm still not sleeping as well as I'd like, although last night I found it helped significantly to change out the air-filter element in my "VPAP" machine. But I still haven't had to resort to medications again, and that's the way I want to keep it. I still think I can overcome the minor "environmental" discomforts I'm facing, but it may take some time.

I have gone back to my "Rock 'N' Roll Favorites" posts from January-February and added links to video/audio files on Youtube for most of the songs (I couldn't find videos for a few of them). I think you'll enjoy following the links and seeing what my "favorite" songs by all those groups actually sound like.

The attached picture was taken in May 2007 on the "Ghost Rider" rollercoaster at Knott's Berry Farm, which of course is just up the road from Disneyland in Orange County, CA. As you can see, Devery, Darren, Kiley, and I all have interesting reactions to higher-than-normal g-forces!

McCain - Palin: A Home Run?

John McCain's selection of Sarah Palin, the governor of Alaska, as his running mate in the 2008 presidential election is, in my mind, an inspired choice, one that I've been hoping for ever since Jonah Goldberg first started touting her in National Review a few months ago. As many have already pointed out, it's a risky move, but one that can pay off richly in the end. She's young and relatively inexperienced, but it will be difficult for the media to make that point without highlighting the fact that Barack Obama is (a) almost as young and just as inexperienced, and (b) running for president, not vice president. It also remains to be seen how well-informed she is and how well she thinks on her feet in a debate on national television. (Regardless, the smarmy Joe Biden had better tread lightly around her; if he insults her or is condescending to her, he could easily throw the election to McCain.)

However, beyond the issues of experience and debating ability, I see nothing but upside to the Palin pick. One, she's an attractive and obviously intelligent woman, who not only presents a fresh, pretty face to the voting public but highlights the fact that there is no woman, pretty or otherwise, on the Dem ticket. (Her being a conservative woman will raise the hackles of certain feminists, and all other far-left elements, who regard a woman's being conservative as the very worst sort of blood betrayal, but this is a question of appealing to the moderate middle, not the loony Left.) Two, she's ardently pro-life (and even has a Down Syndrome child), which will excite the conservative base and draw a sharp contrast with the extreme-left policies of the opposition respecting abortion. Three, she's an anti-waste and anti-corruption crusader from a jurisdiction known for waste and malfeasance, which points up the fact that Obama, far from being a crusader, is actually a product of the even-more-corrupt Chicago political machine.

Four, being from Alaska, she's guaranteed to be more of an authority on energy policy and resources than the opposition, and she's on the right/realistic side of both expanded domestic oil and gas drilling (especially in ANWR) and the development of alternative energy sources. Five, she's an avid hunter and a lifetime NRA member, which is sure to appeal to the sort of working-class white voters who voted for Hillary Clinton in the Democratic primaries. Six, her husband Todd is at least part Native American, plus he's a blue-collar fisherman and oilfield worker who races snowmobiles -- no Teresa Heinz Kerry, he! And seven, like McCain himself, she has a son serving in the Armed Forces who will be deployed shortly to Iraq; which at least gives her some personal stake in the U.S.'s Middle East policy.

Only time will tell if McCain's choosing Governor Palin as his running mate is a home run, but it certainly cements his reputation as a bold "maverick" -- Obama's choice of Joe Biden suddenly looks wussy by comparison. It's really shaping up to be an exciting election now!

Donnie Iris's "Ah! Leah!"

On the way home from hiking on Friday, I heard a song on the radio that I've long admired, but whose title (along with the artist who recorded it) I'd never been able to ascertain. I knew that it must have come out while I was a missionary in Chile, although I don't remember hearing it until after I came back to the U.S. After the song ended, the DJ came on and said the name of the artist: "Donnie Iris." I went home and immediately went on iTunes and searched on "donnie iris"; the first tune on the list was "Ah! Leah!" and, sure enough, it was the song I'd just heard on the radio. I quickly downloaded it to my iTunes, then went (a) to Wikipedia to read the bio on the artist, and (b) to Youtube to watch the music video for the tune. I found it strangely appropriate that Donnie, the singer, was a thin, curly-headed guy with horn-rimmed glasses and bad teeth, which also explains why his band didn't become a huge act in the coming Age of MTV, with its emphasis on pretty-boy looks and big hair. (Donnie, it turns out, had already played in The Jaggerz ["The Rapper"] and Wild Cherry [post-"Play that Funky Music"] at the time he recorded "Ah! Leah!")

In one sense, "Ah! Leah!" came out about five years too late -- I'm almost certain it would have been a #1 hit in the mid-70s (instead of topping out at #29 in 1980-81) -- but there's something timeless about a hard-rocking song about forbidden-but-irresistible love. I'm not sure where it would fall on my list of all-time favorite rock songs, but it would definitely be in the top five.

Hiking Again - North Crest Trail

John Brewer and I were finally able to go hiking again today in the Sandia Mountains. This time we went and hiked the North Crest Trail, which starts at Tunnel Spring, in the Placitas area at the northern end of the range, and ends at Sandia Crest. I knew from my experience in 2005, the last time I hiked North Crest, that it was both a long (12+ miles) and a deceptively difficult trail; nonetheless, John and I decided to start our hike by taking the more-difficult-still variant trail up Cañón del Horno, which cuts off at least two miles from the route. I had last gone up Cañón del Horno in 1990, when we took my mother-in-law Rhea Wilson (who was then dying of pancreatic cancer) up to Tunnel Spring to get some of the reputedly "healing" spring water. Being eighteen or nineteen years older now, I wasn't certain what to expect, and sure enough, the Cañón del Horno trail was steep and energy-sapping, making the rest of the hike seem quite a bit more difficult; it was also a sunny and hot day, and the heat didn't make things any easier. However, as I've said before, any day spent hiking in the Sandias is a good day, and I had a great time overall.

We had some difficulty working out the logistics, but ultimately we decided to take two cars, leave one at the bottom Tram terminus, then drive around to Tunnel Spring and leave the second car there. We'd hike beyond the Crest all the way to the upper Tram terminus, then take the Tram down to get the first car, and finally drive back out to Tunnel Spring to fetch the second car. Everything went more or less to plan, although we were gone a couple of hours longer than we'd originally anticipated.

I decided to wear my Vasque trail runners on the hike instead of hiking boots, and they worked even better than I expected. Not an ounce of foot pain at the end!

The top photo shows John and me shortly before we boarded the Tram at the upper terminus; the second shows me at one of the overlooks on the trail; and the third shows me on a typical stretch of the trail.

Farewell, Devery and Easton!

Devery and Easton are leaving tomorrow to go back to Provo and BYU, and we'll miss having them around our house. It was a great summer and we're glad both of them were able to work lots of hours, make good money, and save for school. We'll see them at Christmas, and I suspect we'll make one or two trips to Utah to see them before school ends in April, but it doesn't appear likely that we'll get them for another summer. I'm sure Devery will be glad not to have to get up at 5:30 am to ride into work with me, and I know she won't miss having to escort an uncleared individual around the limited area at Sandia Labs anymore (notwithstanding the fact that the individual in question was Sean Naegle, a nice LDS kid whose father, John, is a distant cousin of mine). However, Sandia has been very good to Devery and has done a lot to pay for her college, and she's understandably a little emotional and nostalgic about leaving after five summer internships. I hope they have a great year at BYU, and they're in excellent position to do just that.

At Sandia Crest, pre-Wedding

Following up on my last post, here is a photo showing what Dorine and I looked like at about the time we were married in 1984. It's scanned and cropped from what was one of a roll of photographs that Mike P______, my then-future brother-in-law, took of us at Sandia Crest for our wedding announcements (although we ended up sending out prints of a different pose with the actual announcements). I think back on what a leap of faith it was to get married at all, given (a) that I still had three-and-a-half years of school ahead of me (not to mention several unforeseen years of difficulty finding a long-term career), and (b) that I would be stepping into the role of stepfather to Dorine's daughters Kristy and Heidi (then six and three years old, respectively). It was a good thing that Mike was generous to Dorine, who kept books for his software company, and that the girls were getting social security benefits as the result of their father's death (which benefits, fortunately, didn't go away after I married their mother), all of which enabled us to get me through school with essentially no debt. As you can see, Dorine was still a babe when I married her, and I like to think I wasn't half bad-looking, either. (Man, I wish I could still wear contact lenses!)

Dorine - The "Lost" Years

Every now and then I come across an old photograph of Dorine, dating to the time of her first marriage (1978-83), that makes me eat my heart out not to have been her love in those days (notwithstanding the fact that I was on a mission or at BYU during much of that period). This photo, which probably dates to 1978, is the "worst" one I've seen in that regard: Dorine looks so young, fresh, and achingly sexy that it almost kills me to know she belonged to someone else!

Fortunately for me, she was still attractive, and fairly young, when we married in late 1984 (and she still looks hot compared to most women her age), but, well, a person is only twenty years old once. I call that entire era the "lost" years -- not "lost" in that they served no purpose (after all, Dorine had Kristy and Heidi by her first husband, and her first marriage instilled in her a certain maturity that fueled her interest in me later), but "lost" in the sense that I missed out on something fantastic. If being married to Dorine for the last 23+ years has placed any great mental burdens on me, that's number one on the list.