Someone I Wish I Could Meet

I love being an archivist. 

I get to go through the boxes in which a collection is donated and organize the material so that they can be more easily used in research. I learn so much. Even in the most mundane and/or "boring" collections I can usually find at least one item that is fascinating.

Just over a year ago I began processing a collection that has changed my life, completely altering the way I view the world around me. This collection was material from the life of Marian Bruce Logan.

Marin Bruce Logan circa 1978.

Marian Bruce was a cabaret singer who performed in New York, London, and Paris. She moved from Philadelphia to Harlem to begin her career. At one point she was considered the "next Lena Horne." She was also frequently a topic in the gossip column of Jet magazine. From scans of Jet on Google I learned that when she went to Paris to perform, her then beau in New York cabled several dozen roses for her dressing room. He also shipped his car over so she could drive around while there! I'm guessing their relationship didn't last as Jet also reported that Marian was having a "woo-mance" with a maharajah. 

I swear I'm not making any of this up.

At one point Marian's New York apartment caught fire and she lost over $150,000 worth of evening gowns. That's a lot of money even now, but for the 1950s? That's the equivalent of about $1,400,000 when adjusted for inflation.

Marian recorded one record, "Halfway to Dawn." You can listen to the tracks of the record on YouTube. I like her voice. It's very smooth and pleasant. 

After marrying Dr. Arthur Logan, Duke Ellington's personal physician, Marian retired from the stage. 

She began working with Jackie Robinson on his charity, the Student Emergency Fund. This fund was set up to help African-American students pay their tuition so that they could stay in college and earn their degrees. 

A canceled check signed by both Marian Bruce Logan and Jackie Robinson.

While working with Robinson, Marian learned of the diner sit-in protests where college students would sit in the "whites only" sections of diners to bring attention to the problems of segregation. Marian began asking her friends and neighbors for donations to purchase books, magazines, and food to send to keep the protesters fed and entertained. She quickly raised over $1,000 for this purpose. 

Raising this money brought Marian to the attention of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He asked her to join the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC). Marian quickly became instrumental in raising funds to support the group's non-violent protests. She became the first Northern member of the SCLC's board of directors. She and her husband developed a close friendship with Dr. King and Coretta. The friendship was close enough that Marian was invited to travel with Dr. King's group to Oslo, Norway where Dr. King received his Nobel Peace Prize. While with the SCLC, Marian also participated in the famous March on Washington.

Here is Marian (in white) with Coretta Scott King.

Marian also had a close relationship with Dr. King's parents, here expressing condolences to her on the occasion of the death of her husband. Note how they signed the telegram "Momma and Daddy King."

After Dr. King's assassination, Marian remained with the SCLC for a year, parting ways as she felt the group was starting to stray from Dr. King's ideals.

In 1977, Marian was appointed New York City Human Rights Commissioner by Mayor Abraham Beames. She worked in the position for two years to better the living conditions of the citizens of New York.

While Commissioner she also became involved with BASIC (Black Americans in Support of Israel Committee). BASIC was formed to help better the situation of Black Hebrews living in Israel. Marian traveled to Israel in 1978 and again in 1981 as part of the group. She worked with prominent Israeli leaders to help stop the mistreatment of the Black Hebrews who were living in the country.

Marian Bruce Logan lived an amazing life, the majority of which was spent in trying to help create a better situation for others. She used her position of privilege to become a voice for those who didn't share her advantages. 

As Marian Bruce Logan doesn't have much of a presence on the internet, I wrote this post as a warm-up of sorts to write a substantial Wikipedia article about her. I would love to see a "Hidden Figures" type book written about her, as I feel she deserves that sort of attention.

The information in this post was drawn from the Marian Bruce Logan Collection of Civil Rights Activism held at the Irvin Department of Rare Books and Special Collections at the University of South Carolina. Here is a link to the catalog listing of the collection.

Pictures for this post were pulled from the same collection, scans of which can be found at this link.

Be Better...

...than what we are now.

I watched a clip of Jeff Daniels in the opening scene of The Newsroom the other day. It made a deep impression upon me. In the clip a college sophomore asks a panel, of which Daniels' character is a part, to describe what they think makes America great. The other two members of the panel respond "Diversity and Opportunity," and "Freedom and freedom and let's keep it that way." 

Then Daniels' character goes off.

I won't try to quote the entire monologue here because it's quite long and Daniels' delivery is amazing. Pull up the clip on Youtube. It will be just over eight minutes long. I know. That's a long Youtube clip, but it's worth the time to watch the full scene. The scene is amazing. Enough so that I want to start watching the show that it came from.

Basically, the gist of the monologue is that America isn't great. We used to be great.

That idea really struck me. Part of what disturbed me about Trump's rather unsettling presidential campaign was his rallying cry of, "Make America great again!" My knee-jerk reaction to hearing that for the first time was, "What do you mean, 'again?' We ARE great." However, the more I think on it, the more I realize that America is not great, just as Daniels says in the Newsroom clip. What I found disturbing about Trump's campaign slogan was that I don't want any part of an America that he would consider great. But that's another subject entirely.

The more I think about it, the more I believe that America is resting on its laurels. As a country we're like the 40-year-old former jock whose highest point in life was throwing a game-winning touchdown in high school. And now all he does is relive his glory days.

The story of the United States is quite amazing. We went from being an English colony to being the country that was a world-leader. In less than 200 years. That's pretty incredible. The United States was where everyone wanted to live.

A book I once read had a thought about leadership that went more or less like this: "When you hold your light up for others to follow it reveals your own weaknesses and failings." This revelation gives the true leader a chance to improve. Seeing what's wrong is the first step to correcting the problem. 

The U.S., for all of our vaunted declarations of "Freedom" and "Justice for all" has had problems with slavery and inequality. Problems that are ongoing. It sometimes seems that a lot of us don't want to share our freedom and justice. 

As the Newsroom clip points out the U.S. isn't great. Especially in those areas that are easily quantified and compared with others. You know, literacy, math skills, infant mortality. While we are lacking in many, many areas, I feel and hope that America can be great again.

If we are to become great again, it will be in the same manner we did so before. Our people. We need people to become great by being honestly and truly good people. People who work hard. Care for others. Make decisions because they are the right thing to do, no because it gives them the greatest advantage. 

America can be great. To do so will require us to become great. We need to be better than we are. 

Time to start working on that.

Why do I Identify with The Waitress?

This is an honest question. I haven't quite figured it out yet. 

Last summer I watched the Tonys. I was excited to see if Hamilton was going to run away with each award. Let's be honest. Hamilton is something of a cultural phenomenon and it deserved every award it received. I was hoping that Sara Bareilles would win an award for her work on The Waitress. I bought Sara's albums of songs from the production, performed by Sara herself. I had a strong reaction to the song "She Used to Be Mine." When I finally got around to listening to the original cast album I didn't like it. It wasn't Sara. I finally gave it another chance.

It's amazing. 

I think that in any year where Hamilton wasn't winning every award, The Waitress would have won at least a couple of awards. Jessie Mueller does an amazing job at portraying the title character. All the characters feel real and authentic. 

Here's the crux of my title question. Why do I identify with a musical about a woman in an abusive marriage and is pregnant with a baby she doesn't want?

She feels trapped in her life, like she isn't in control of what happens to her. It seems as though life will never get better. I know that feeling well. I don't feel it so much anymore, but I did for quite a while.

She doesn't feel like she's allowed to dream. She doesn't dare hope for a better life. That was my life for so long. I felt I had to be practical. That I couldn't pursue anything that I wanted to do. Decisions had to be based on what would be best for my life. Nothing frivolous. Sometimes I feel myself sliding back into that mindset and I have to fight to remember that I'm allowed to dream and pursue those dreams to the best of my ability. 

At one point in the play Jenna asks another character if he's happy. He replies that he's "Happy enough." Jenna finds that interesting, but she wants to be more than "happy enough." She wants to be happy. So much of my life is dictated by what I know I don't like. And I'm glad that I know what I don't like. However, I also feel that life can't be lived by the process of elimination. I need to find what I like. And go for it.

Hmmm, maybe it does make sense for me to identify with The Waitress. 

Good to know.

My Ongoing Project...

I've  had to transfer my iTunes collection to new computers several times. It's an annoying process. If only because the transfer never brings along the ratings I've given to the songs. 

I use the ratings as follows:

Five Stars are my absolute favorite songs. These are the songs that I never skip when they come on. Also, I tend to have an emotional connection to them. Some examples include You Matter to Me by Sara Bareilles, Oasis by A Great Big World, and Vivre A En Crever from Mozart: L'Opera Rock.

Four Stars are the songs I really enjoy and rarely skip. Usually only when I'm really not in the mood for a particular song. These are the songs, along with the Five Star Songs, that are in regular rotation on my iPod. Some examples include Tennessee Line by Daughtry, Easy Silence by the Dixie Chicks, and Turn to Stone by Ingrid Michaelson.

Three Stars are the songs that I like, but I don't want to listen to on a regular basis. This is the bulk of my collection. 

Two Stars are generally Holiday or Religious songs. I like them, but I want them to have their own rating. 

One Stars are waiting to be deleted from iTunes. That simple. I just don't really enjoy listening to them.

I'm currently working on listening to each song in my collection. This way I can make sure each song has the appropriate rating. Also part of the project will be to delete duplicate songs that have been included in multiple albums. 

If I find any albums that include fewer than half of the tracks on the album I change the songs' album to a generic one that includes all the "albumless" songs of a genre into one collection. I'm getting close to having listened to each song. I'll then work on the eradication of duplicates. Then I'll go through and give each song another listen. The difficult part is that I have somewhere around eight thousand songs. So it will take a while. Luckily I'm able to listen for two to three hours each day while at work. That helps.

It's a fun project. For me anyway. Any surprise I'm working on a degree in Library Science?

This is What It Feels Like...

...to be depressed. At least for me.

The Sun Dispels the Morning Fog by William Posey Silva

Sorry you can't see the painting better. 

When I saw this painting in Greenville, SC, I connected to it. This is what it feels like when I'm depressed. I don't necessarily feel sad. I feel like all my emotions are muted. I don't feel excited about anything. I just move from moment to moment.

I was trying to think about an analogy. I think this one works. 

Imagine you're driving your car through a thick fog. You can see maybe ten, maybe fifteen, feet in front of you. You know that there is a world outside the fog. There are other cars. Houses. Fields. Trees. The sun. However, you can't see any of that. As you drive along, you start to get tense. It's a lot of work just doing this mundane thing, driving. You have to keep an eye on the lines painted on the road. They're the only thing that keeps you on track. Every now and then great, shadowed shapes loom up in the fog. You can't make out any details, but they are terrifying. Cars, not using their headlights, the bastards, zip by, the noise and motion sudden and terrifying. An interruption to the drive. You get quiet, focused on the task. You know that, due to stress, any response you make to the passengers in your car will be harsh. Almost violent. When driving in the fog, it's easier to stick to routes and streets that you know. Driving down a new road is an extremely stressful experience. You can't see the street signs. You can't see any landmarks. The fogged-over road is your world. Nothing exists outside of it. 

The road rises high  enough that you're above the fog. The sun shines. From above, it doesn't even seem like there's fog on the valley floor. You can see everything. You relax. Turn on the music. Maybe sing. Laugh with your passengers. It feels like you can do anything. Looking back, you realize you didn't know just how awful it was to be in the fog. Now that you're out you don't want to go back. Unfortunately, the road will dip and fog will come again. 

I've been lucky. I've never had anyone ask, "Well, why don't you just snap out of it? Depression is just being sad. Decide to not be depressed!" 

If only it were that simple. 

Sometimes, realizing I'm depressed will help me start to rise up out of the fog. I can try to take roads I know will help me feel more light, guide me toward the high ground. Unfortunately, I'm not always near those roads and finding the right path can be tricky. 

I can't control thick fog surrounding my vehicle. I can't control the chemicals in my brain from numbing my emotions and causing me to feel helpless, that I can't do anything. I do have techniques I can use to help me through those times. But using the wrong one can be worse than doing nothing. Ever used your high beams in a fog? It's doesn't always help. The fog can reflect all that extra light right back into your eyes. 

Listening to songs or watching TV shows you enjoy can help. If the depression is deep enough it can hurt. It scares me when I realize that I don't feel a connection to something I enjoy. 

So what can you do when someone you love is depressed? That's probably a better question for Chelsea. I think invitations to do small things is good. Especially the invitation part. Give me a choice. Let me know that there aren't going to be tons of people there, or that there isn't going to be anything required of me. I think if you choose something I've done before, that makes it easier as well. To be honest, each depression is a little different. And it's different for everybody that goes through depression. Sometimes just asking if there's anything you can do to help is helpful. Don't expect an answer right away. Just leave the offer hanging. 

And that's what depression feels like. To me anyway.

Fear...

Earlier today I thought of a funny idea that I wanted to write down before I forgot. I grabbed the first notebook I saw and started turning to a blank page. This is the last piece I had written. I don't remember writing it. I think I must have written it in the hospital the day before Mom passed away, but I just don't remember for sure.

Fear

I used to think true fear was Gmork.

Gmork is a talking wolf with glowing green eyes. He appears in The Neverending Story. For most of the movie he's a shadow pursuing Atreyu. When they finally meet, Gmork starts to talk. He serves The Nothing, the force devouring the fantasy world of Fantasia. Every time I watched the movie I couldn't watch that part. I would close my eyes, but hearing his words still chilled my heart. I would stick my fingers in my ears, telling my sister to let me know when Gmork was dead. 

Just two nights ago I watched that scene again, hoping to exorcise the green-eyed demon that had hounded me for a quarter of a century. I thought it had worked, that I was finally over fearing Gmork. 

Night fell. I went to bed. I had to get up to use the bathroom, but I couldn't move. I needed a flashlight to make sure Gmork wasn't there, waiting to open his eyes and leap for my throat.

As it turns out, Gmork isn't fear.

Fear, true fear, is walking into Room 127 to find my mother lying in bed, tubes entering and exiting, violating her appearance. Her head to one side, mouth open in a silent plea for help that I cannot give. Bile flows through a tube from her abdomen, slowly filling a 32 oz plastic mug.

Her eyes struggle to open when I say, "I'm here."

Her mouth works. To say what, I don't know. Her lips are so dry that the skin sticks and stretches as if her mouth had disappeared completely.

Fear is watching her eyes clench in pain, a moaning cry wisping from her throat as she begins to hiccup, the movement tugging at her recently opened abdomen, tearing at stitches that haven't even begun to form scars.

Her left arm begins to lift, her hand flapping uselessly. She wants to lift it to her nose, to pull the tube inserted there, but she doesn't have the strength.

She had a stroke, a big one, in the left hemisphere of her brain. A stroke so big it jumped the divide and spilled into the right half. 

The doctors are worried about swelling. They offer to show me, and my siblings, pictures.

Fear is leaving Room 127 after she has been dosed with Dilotid. Her erratic movements cease and she starts to slip off to sleep.

I tell her I love her. I say I'll come back to visit.

As I turn to exit I feel my heart contract and it has to work harder to beat.

Gmork could wait in the shadows and I wouldn't care. His glowing green eyes and snarling manner of speech no longer matter, for I have learned true fear.

I am terrified that death is waiting to escort my mother away and I'm not ready.

True terror is getting a call at work that says, "You need to come to the hospital. Now."

I know what's going to happen. I also know there's nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is be there for my mother and my siblings.

A Few Words...

...regarding the death of my father.

Is it weird to be grateful? It has been so many years since Dad had the full use of his faculties. He didn't know who I was, though he sometimes looked like he knew he should. I can't imagine it was a pleasant way to live. He had Alzheimer's. Dementia. Parkinson's. And he finally decided he'd had enough. And that's OK. I had long since mourned the passing of my father. The funeral was just a formality. 

It was a nice funeral. There were some family members I was glad to see again. I got to interact with the Mosdell family (the morticians), which is always nice. They were very friendly and were concerned with my well-being. Not just as family of the deceased, but as a friend. It was cathartic to go through the funeral services. I didn't have any responsibilities, which was great as I was very involved with Mom's funeral. 

I loved my father. I know he loved me. 

(Here's the part where I try to process my thoughts about my relationship with my father. This is from my perspective. There were many people, including many of my nieces and nephews and some people who weren't blood related, who had a better relationship with my father than I did. Please don't try to discredit my feelings. They are mine. They should in no way diminish yours.)

I didn't have a stellar relationship with my father. I feel now as though he just didn't have time for me. I think we just didn't have a whole lot in common apart from our familial relationship. Even though we were both avid readers, our books of choice were vastly different. I remember trying to read some of Dad's collection of Louis L'Amour novels. The only one I liked was Lando, and it wasn't a typical L'Amour book. 

Back in February I started working with a counselor. I started off focusing on my grief following Mom's death. As we worked through those feelings, we started talking about my relationship with Dad. That became the focus of the bulk of our sessions. For one session, my counselor asked that I come prepared by remembering a "disturbing" memory. 

In my memory I believe I'm around 12 years old. I'm jumping on the trampoline. Dad is working on a project with Mom. He calls me over as he needs an additional pair of hands. I walk across the lawn in my socks to help. He needs me to hold his drill while he adjusts the pieces he is screwing together. His drill that is all metal. I take it, get shocked, and drop it. Dad gets a little irritated. He picks it up and hands it back to me. I drop it again. I'm crying now because getting shocked is a bit painful, plus Dad is now upset with me. I can't remember how the situation was resolved. Thinking about it now, I can't believe that Dad didn't realize what was happening when I first dropped the drill. He taught science. I was grounded. It's no big surprise I was shocked when he, wearing shoes, was not. 

I discussed this memory with my counselor until I no longer felt it was disturbing to me. I made some progress resolving my feelings toward my father. I moved to South Carolina, then went back to Utah briefly for Dad's funeral. 

After I came back to South Carolina I spent a while trying to scan family documents. I started scanning a calendar that Dad used as a diary, making brief notations for each day. I stopped to read one when I saw my name written. He was talking about supporting me at a Cub Scout ceremony. Then he wrote the following, "When Adam was born I was jealous of him because he took my wife as a mother. He still does. I, however, have lost my jealousy feelings."

My father resented me.

This was quite the revelation. There were emotions and memories that clicked into place. From what I understand, feelings of jealousy and resentment from fathers toward their children is common. I wonder if Dad really had conquered his jealousy. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. That journal entry helped clear some things up. It helps explain why I didn't feel all that close to Dad. 

Knowing that Dad felt that way makes me feel a little vindicated. That I'm not crazy for feeling that there was a distance between us. Is there still some processing I need to do? Probably, but I feel like, as far as feelings about my dad go, that I'm in a pretty good place now.

 

Thin and Stretched...

...but not in the "I'm being slowly possessed by an evil power that dwells in this neat bit of jewelry that turns me invisible when I wear it" way.

I was going to say that I'm tired, but "tired" is an inappropriate choice as far as words go. It implies that I don't care anymore, that I'm putting my head in the sand and refusing to participate in the world. 

No, far more accurate would be "weary." I'm weary. To the bone. 

Word of warning: this post will wander a fair bit. I don't even know that I have a point to make, but I need to write about what I'm feeling.

Chelsea and I have moved to Columbia, South Carolina. I'm excited at the opportunity to study at the University of South Carolina. It's a great school. I also managed to get a Graduate Assistantship. This means that I will only have to pay in-state tuition and that I'll receive some financial aid benefit as well. This is a very good thing.

We've been here a month and neither of us has managed to find a job. Chelsea has applied for a huge number of jobs. Over one hundred by now. I haven't applied for that many, mostly because I need a part-time position and one that won't make me hate myself hasn't presented itself yet. It's getting to the point where I don't think I can be all that picky any more. We'll see. My assistantship starts in August. I'm hoping to get an additional one that will function as a part-time job. We'll see.

I haven't been sleeping well. Part of that is due to the heat. We can't afford to run the air-conditioning as much as would be sufficient to help me sleep. So I'm sleepy quite a bit. 

I'm depressed as well. I don't do well with change, even when it's change that is one I've been looking forward to making. Add in the job situation and it has brought me down. I'm trying to do things that will give me moments of pleasure, like hunting Pokemon on an app for my phone when I run errands around town. I've been playing Magic each week as well. I enjoy that a lot. It feels like a silly expense, especially when we don't have jobs, but I feel it's an important thing for me to do. 

And the world seems to be going insane. 

It's almost to the point that I don't want to read the news or my Facebook feed when I go online. I'm deeply saddened by the senseless violence that seems so commonplace now. I hate that it is commonplace. 

And those that aren't directly affected by the violence just seem to clamor about how it's going to affect their individual rights. 

I don't have a solution. I'm not nearly wise enough to know where to begin formulating one. 

To my eyes it seems as though there is a drought of epic proportions when it comes to loving our neighbor. There is almost no sense of community anymore. Everyone is just looking out for themselves and letting everyone else do the same. 

The current presidential election isn't helping anything. I am so sick of elections where it seems like all people do is choose the "lesser of two evils." When I voted for President Obama, it was because he had an aura of hope about him. Unfortunately, he was saddled with a Congress that seemed to take a childish pleasure in saying, "No," to everything he wanted to try and do. There didn't seem to be any attempt at compromise or to work together. And that is sad. 

The two frontrunners in the current election don't give me any sense of hope. Trump is a businessman who has manipulated the system so he could make huge amounts of money every time one of his businesses went bankrupt. I can't help but feel that he is running for president as an attempt to make more money. His campaign is one of hatred and anger, two emotions that are definitely not needed in the current social atmosphere.

I don't know that I like Clinton any better. 

I have a secret hope in my heart of hearts that Bernie will somehow manage to obtain the nomination. He's someone I feel like wouldn't be the "lesser of two evils." I'm not saying he's perfect by any stretch, but his views tend to align more with mine and I feel like he wants to actually effect positive change.

There's a lot more swirling around my head, but I don't know how to articulate it at the moment. Here's to hoping that tomorrow finds me a lot less weary.

Favorite Songs A to Z...

...well, let's be honest. I don't have a favorite song that starts with either "X" or "Z." There just aren't that many songs that start with those letters, and of those I've heard I don't like any.

Anyway, there are people in the world who will judge you based on what music you listen to. I think that's silly, personally. Just because you enjoy a particular music genre, or even a particular artist, doesn't mean you're a bad person. Unless you're a huge Toby Keith fan. Just kidding. I think.

Anyway, I've done lists like this before, and I find it to be a fun exercise. I guess I could try and do a Top 25 or Top 10 song list, but this gives me an opportunity to explore what I like and defining what can go in the list makes me ponder the choice to make sure it's the accurate one. These are songs that either mean a lot to me at the moment or that I find amusing or fun. These are the songs that don't get skipped when they come one. In fact, they'll often get repeated. Three or four times.

Without further exposition, let's get to the list.

A. All About That Bass (No Tenors) by Straight No Chaser. You are probably more familiar with the original, Meghan Trainor version. This is the version I like. If you've ever sung in a choir, or know someone who sings, you might be aware that basses don't like tenors all that much. I'm not sure why. I'm a bass, and I tend to mock tenors. Anyway, Straight No Chaser has written new lyrics that speak to my experience in choirs. So much fun.

B. Better When I'm Dancin' by Meghan Trainor. I didn't expect to have a Meghan Trainor song on this list, much less two. You know, if you count the previous entry. Anyway, this was a song that was featured in the recent Peanuts CGI movie. I enjoyed the movie, partially because I am such a huge Peanuts fan. And I love this song. It's just so positive and uplifting. It brightens my day to listen to it.

C. Criminal from the movie Ra.One. Ra.One is a Bollywood movie. When it was made, it was the most expensive movie ever made in India. They ask a lot of their actors. They have to be able to act, be competent with action, sing, and dance. This song was the opening musical number from the film and it's a lot of fun to listen to. You should look up the video on youtube. It's a hoot to watch.

D. Defying Gravity by Idina Menzel, from Wicked. A song all about overcoming the expectations of those around you and becoming who you truly are. I've cried many times to this song. I find it to be personally inspirational and very important.

E. Ecos de Amor by Jesse & Joy. Jesse & Joy are a brother/sister duo from Mexico. I've loved their music from the first single of theirs that I heard. Each album is much more rich musically and shows the siblings' growth. After listening to this song, which translates as "Echoes of Love," I was left emotionally drained and dumbfounded at the intricacy of the music and the lyrics. The music was unlike anything I had heard from Jesse & Joy previously and the lyrics are packed with imagery and meaning. Each word works to make the whole that much more powerful. I've been working on translating the entire song. It's a tough task, but a labor of love.

F. Fuckin' Perfect by P!nk. This is the song I listen to when I get overly judgemental of myself. I have a tendency to hold myself to an unrealistically high standard and then, when I don't live up to my unrealistic expectations, I beat myself up and think less of myself. Listening to this song makes me remember that I'm a pretty decent fellow and don't deserve my own harsh thoughts. This is another one where, if you get the chance, you should watch the music video. It's incredibly powerful. There's a "clean" version, if that's something that is important to you. 

G. Gravity by Sara Bareilles. Sara has three songs on this list. I love her music. I find this song to be beautiful and moving. It's all about finding the strength to overcome those aspects of your life that hold you back or down. This is another song where the music video is amazing. It's done in one long shot, gradually showing a galaxy created by practical effects. It is really cool.

H. Hold On by the University of Illinois Rip Chords. This is an a cappella rendition of the Wilson Phillips hit. I love this arrangement. I also really like the song itself. The lyrics have made me cry on more than one occasion. 

I. I'm Going to Go Back There Some Day by Gonzo. Yes, the Muppet. For me, this is all about the sense of longing you feel as you try to find your place in the world. I also particularly like the line, "There's not a word yet for old friends you've just met." It doesn't happen very often, but there have been times when I've met someone who instantly becomes a friend I've had all my life. It's a powerful moment, one that's captured really well by this song.

J. Just Give Me a Reason by P!nk and the lead singer of Fun.(yes, the period is part of the band's name for trademark reasons). P!nk is on my list a total of four times. I love her music. This is just a great duet. If you wish to see a video, search for the performance at the Grammys. They do a great job live. Sidebar, P!nk could break the guy in half if she so chose. 

K. Kaleidoscope by A Great Big World. I discovered this duo about a year ago and I've loved their music ever since. They only have a couple songs that I will skip when they come on. To me, this song is all about the colors and new shapes that come into your life with each new friend and loved one that you meet. It's a bouncy, cheerful song that buoys me up.

L. Let it Be from Across the Universe. I love this Beatles song, but I particularly love the rendition from the musical that uses Beatles songs. It's kind of a Gospel rendition of the song, and that adds a lot of soul to it. It tends to pull my heart along on an emotional journey. 

M. El Malo by Jesse & Joy. Joy usually does the bulk of the singing on their songs, but for this one Jesse takes the lead. This helps me as I try to overcome my tendency to feel guilt that I shouldn't. Helps me to feel better about myself. One of the lines I particularly enjoy is "Darkness isn't the enemy of light." I find that a fascinating concept. I think there's a lot of truth to it, that the two are only opposite sides of the same coin. 

N. Not Ready to Make Nice by the Dixie Chicks. I recently watched the documentary "Shut Up and Sing," which is about the years following the controversy over what Natalie Maines said during a concert in England. I won't go into it here, but it was an interesting documentary. I like the way this song presents those moments where you're willing to forgive what's been done to you, but you can't forget it. Whether you're going to use the experience to make yourself stronger or to try and avoid a similar situation in the future, bad experiences can be great teachers. I love this song.

O. Oasis by A Great Big World. I was lucky enough to find a woman who has become my safe place, who helps protect me from the world. She understands me and lets me know that it's OK to be me. I can be my introverted self. I can take some time to be alone and recover. She supports this. She also lets me know when those times arrive that I have to come out of my comfort zone. But when those times happen, she is there to support me and protect me. She makes me be a better me. She is my oasis. This song reminds me of that.

P. Pictures in My Head by Kermit. Yes, the Muppet. This song is about those times when you wonder what you could have done to change the outcome of a particular situation. Sometimes I regret the way things have gone in my life. It's OK to feel sad. What this song helps me remember is that, even with the sad feelings, there are good memories to hold on to. I need to treasure the Pictures in My Head.

Q. Quédate Conmigo by Ha-Ash. It's a love song. In Spanish. I really enjoy listening to it. I like these sisters' voices. It's also fun to hear country-style music in Spanish.

R. Raise Your Glass by P!nk. This song is all about celebrating all that is unique and "weird" about you. Be who you are and don't be afraid of it. I particularly like the line, "If you're too school for cool..."

S. She Used to Be Mine by Sara Bareilles. From "The Waitress" broadway musical. The main character sings this song as sort of a letter to her younger self. Giving her advice, lamenting her bad choices, wishing she had done some things different. I have heaved huge, soul-rending sobs to this song. I have to change the pronouns, but so much of it applies to me. There is a beautiful music video on youtube. Here's one of the lines I relate, pronouns changed to match me: "He's imperfect, but he tries. He is good, but he lies. He is hard on himself. He is broken and won't ask for help." I could quote almost the entire song, because it really hits home, but I'll stop there. It's well worth the listen. Probably the most personally important song on this list.

T. Turn the World Around by Harry Belafonte. I know this song from Harry's appearance on the Muppet Show. It's based on some African creation myths. And it's all about learning who we are, who our neighbors and friends are, and coming together to help turn the world around. Great song.

U. U + UR Hand by P!nk. This song makes me smile. Plus it teaches the important lesson that no one is here to be used or possessed by someone else. We all deserve respect.

V. Vivre A En Crever from the musical Mozart, L'Opera Rock. It's a French musical. I love listening to the songs. This one is particularly powerful. It looks like the title means, "Live Life to the bursting point," more or less. Feel free to correct that translation. One of the early lines translates to, "No tears, no fear," and I like that. It's a male voice duet, sung by some beautiful voices. It's an amazing song. There is also a pretty amazing music video on youtube. 

W. Where Does the Time Go? by A Great Big World. All about living and enjoying life as it happens because time really flies by and if we're not careful, life can pass us by.

X. Yeah, I don't have an "X" song.

Y. You Matter to Me by Sara Bareilles and Jason Mraz. It's a beautiful duet from "The Waitress." Sometimes we all need reassuring that we matter, that someone cares about us. Some of us need it more than others. And it's so nice to find that person who makes us feel we matter.

Z. No "Z" song either, mostly because I refuse to include "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah." I just won't do it.


So there's my list. I hope you enjoyed reading it. Feel free to make your own list, but you certainly don't have to. It's a lot of work.

 

The Recent LDS Policy Change...

...has caused a lot of conversation. And arguments.

My purpose in writing this post tonight is to try and process my own thoughts and feelings about the policy change. I hope that I don't hurt any feelings or cause any feuds, but I can't promise that I won't.

I saw a link to the news article on KUTV Thursday night. I was stunned, to say the least. I searched to find any sort of verification from the Church. Nothing came until Saturday, if I remember right. Chelsea was in Sacramento all week for a training. She called Thursday evening and we talked a little about the news item. It was hard for me to talk and she didn't know any more than I did. 

My heart ached. My soul felt bruised. I thought about my cousin Carrie. I thought about my friend Blake. I thought about my friend Brian. I thought about some of Chelsea's friends who I don't know well, but care about, because she loves them. I hurt for them. I prayed and cried and prayed and cried Thursday night. I didn't get much sleep. 

I'll be honest, I asked myself, "Is this the straw that breaks my back? Is this what is going to make me re-think my membership in the Church?" The thought was frightening. I enjoy some of the aspects of going to church. There's a measure of comfort in doing the same thing I have done all my life. I have had periods of inactivity, but I always came back. Complicating matters is my marriage. This wasn't a decision I could make alone. I don't think now that I will walk away from the Church. I have some issues that are tied up in my religion, but I'm working on them. 

In the meantime I've done some research. I've read many different blog posts and Facebook posts. Rants and complaints on both sides. I've read posts of acceptance and explanation. I've learned that the policy about children of same-sex marriages is the same as for children of polygamous marriages. Those children can't receive a name and a blessing when they are born. They cannot be baptized at age eight. When they turn eighteen, if they choose, they can be baptized after receiving approval from the First Presidency/Quorum of the Twelve. To receive approval they will have to move out of their family's home and disavow the practice of same-sex relationships or polygamy, depending on their situation. This seems difficult and hard to me. 

So I thought and prayed and cried. I talked about it with Chelsea when she got home from Sacramento. She felt much the same confusion and pain that I did. And do. 

And here's where I'm at. I comprehend the decision the leaders of the Church have made. Logically I can connect the dots. I just don't understand. I don't get it. It seems divisive. It feels like it singles out the gay members of the Church.

I rejoiced when gay marriage became the law. I don't know where same-sex couples fit in God's eternal Plan. I have faith that He has space for them. I felt that the Church recognizing that being gay wasn't a choice was a huge step forward. And now I feel that perhaps an even larger step has been taken back.

I stand with my baptismal covenants to "mourn with those that mourn and comfort those in need of comfort." If I lived anywhere near Brian, Blake, or Carrie, I would seek them out and give them a big hug and just let them know that my heart and soul aches with theirs.

And I don't have the answers and I am still confused. I hope that I will understand in time and that all will be well.

I hope.

 

*Obligatory Father's Day Post*

Today was a rather rough day.

Before I get going on this post, I want to write a disclaimer: I am writing this post in an attempt to explore my feelings and work my way through them. I think my father was an amazing person. He did many things really well. My experience with him throughout my life was distinct and different from your experience, whoever you are. I experienced some hurt that will never be fully resolved. If you can't leave a thoughtful, un-judgemental comment, then I'd rather you didn't comment at all.

Ok, back to today. 

It was rough.

Father's Day was omnipresent in my church meetings. I was on the verge of tears several times. The thought that kept coming back around was, "Happy Father's Day. My mother passed away a year ago and, as far as my father is concerned, I don't exist."

Let me explain. I don't exist to my father because he, quite honestly, does not remember my birth. When I visit him, I can tell that he knows he should know who I am, but he doesn't. This is due to a sequence of events. 1. Dad had a couple micro-strokes that affected him in many ways, one of which was triggering the onset of his Alzheimer's. 2. Shortly after Dad started having memory issues, Mom was in a car accident and didn't see Dad for several months. 3. Dad got it in his head that he had had three wives: His first, with whom he had six children (this is true), his second, who died in a car accident (Mom was his second wife, did not die), and his third (Mom). 

In Dad's memory I just kind of faded away, like Michael J Fox in Back to the Future. 

At least, that's what happened as near as I can figure. 

In my memory, which admittedly could be faulty, Dad would frequently give precedence to his church callings over some of the activities I participated in. During high school he would go to choir and band concerts and the plays I was in. I remember him going to a couple choir performances while I was in college. 

One that he missed sticks out. 

The choir I was in had a big Spring Variety Show. In this particular show I had a solo and a couple featured parts in small ensembles. It was a big performance for me, and I wanted my parents to be there.  They were serving as workers in the St. George Temple at the time. They said they weren't sure they could make it. I begged and pleaded. 

The performance was recorded. On the recording, just after my solo performance and the last of my small ensembles, you can see Mom walk in front of the camera. Just Mom. I was glad she was there, but so disappointed she missed my big solo. And I was crushed that Dad didn't come.

Several years later I received a letter from Dad. I had since stopped going to church because I wasn't sure that was where I wanted to be. Dad's letter was six pages long, detailing how I was a bad son because I wasn't going to church. I can't remember exactly what he wrote, but it was damaging. I can't even refer to the letter. I was so upset that I burned it.

It was shortly after that letter that dad had his strokes. And now those bad feelings won't be resolved because Dad doesn't remember me, and he certainly won't remember writing that letter.

Don't get me wrong. I'm working on letting the bad feelings go. I don't want to have negative feelings about my father. The truth is, however, that that's how I feel.

It makes Father's Day a tough day.

I hope next year will be better.

Inside Out...

...and upside down.

Well, not really upside down, but it went with "Inside Out."

I went and saw Inside Out last night. It is Pixar's latest movie, and it is a masterpiece. That's not a word I use lightly. I'm still trying to process what I feel after seeing the movie.

Honest opinion: Inside Out is the most important movie Pixar has made. It's a movie that is going to be studied in university classes. It's going to be mentioned in the list of animated movies that everyone should see, and I think it deserves a mention in with regular movies. I read a review that said the race for Best Animated Oscar is over. I can see that. I hope that Inside Out pulls a Beauty and the Beast and gets nominated for Best Picture. I think the Academy will avoid that, but Inside Out deserves it.

Inside Out is poetic. Now when I say that a book or movie is poetic, what I mean is that the work in question portrays story and emotion effectively, without wasting words. Inside Out uses all the tools of the medium in a spare manner to tell its story. Every element is doing work and working with the others to create a greater whole. This is a movie that I will need to see multiple times to fully appreciate each element.

On top of just being a great movie, Inside Out taught me an important lesson. Each emotion is important and has its place. Sure, everyone loves to be happy, but trying to be happy all the time is enormously stressful. Being sad maybe isn't necessarily enjoyable, but it is necessary sometimes. Allowing myself to be said will help me to process an emotionally tough time, work my way through it, and then achieve catharsis. Tears can be healing, if we let them.

I will need to see Inside Out  at least a couple more times before I really get a grip on how it makes me feel. I can't wait for it to be out on Blu-Ray so I can really absorb the movie. 

For now, go see Inside Out. You will love it. 

An Anniversary...

...that I don't want to forget, but that I'd just as soon not have.

See, just over a year ago my mother passed away. 

My life hasn't been a shambles, though it has become more difficult in some ways. I think part of me is in denial that she's really gone. As important dates have come and gone, I've had a tough time dealing with the fact that she won't be calling to wish me a happy birthday, or a happy anniversary, or sending me an email to comment on something I wrote on my blog. Not that I've been writing a whole lot for her to comment on.

When she died, it was a sudden thing. No one was expecting it. Honestly, my family all figured Dad would die before Mom. 

The siblings came together, helped each other out, and dealt with everything we needed to. It was nice. 

I went numb. 

I'm an emotional guy. I cry at movies, books, and tv shows. It doesn't bother me that I do. I can get a little self conscious about it, but that depends on who is around me. 

Yet when Mom died, I went numb. I got a little choked up at the funeral while I was speaking, but that was it. I was a little worried that something was wrong with me. I even tested myself by watching a scene from Buffy the Vampire Slayer that has always made me cry. It's after Buffy's mom has died and her friends are getting ready to go support Buffy. Anya, a thousand-year old ex-demon, says the following: 

"I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she's- There's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. And-and Xander's crying and not talking, and-and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch ever, and she'll never have eggs, or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why."

The actress who plays Anya does an incredible job with this scene. In my opinion, it's a real tear-jerker of a moment.

But I didn't cry. 

After some thought, some real soul-searching, I decided that being numb was probably better than being catatonic. If my brain had let me feel everything in those months following Mom's death, I don't know how well I would have survived. 

On the plus side, I'm feeling again.

It's been a difficult journey. There are still some things, fallout from Mom's death, that I need to take care of, but I think I'll be able to focus on it and do it. I'm letting myself feel the grief and pain that Mom's passing has caused me. I still haven't had a good cry over it, but I'm sure that's coming. I'm just trying to take care of myself and to live each day. 

That's all I can do, right?

 

This Might Get a Little Controversial...

...so consider yourself warned.

I'm a registered Democrat. You may or may not have known that. It's quite possible you didn't care. I only mention it because I live in Utah, a staunchly Republican state. In Utah, I would be considered very liberal. In a more liberal state, I would likely be considered a moderate, if not conservative. 

I'm also a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (AKA the Mormons). This is a very conservative church. 

For the last week or so I've been mulling over an article I read, linked here. In this opinion editorial, a Mormon bishop claims that Mormons who vote Democrat should not be considered worthy members of the church. I also read a couple response articles found here and here. I've been thinking of what my response would be and what my thoughts truly are in regards to being a Mormon Democrat.

I'm just going to list them and discuss them.

Abortion: I believe that a woman has the right to choose abortion. I think there should definitely be a time frame involved. I personally do feel that choosing a medically unnecessary abortion is never the right choice, but that's my personal feeling. I do not believe that I have the right to make that decision for someone else. It is HER CHOICE. 

Why do I feel that she should be allowed to make that choice? That is why we are here on Earth. To make choices. Before the Earth was created, God held a council in heaven. He presented his Plan to allow all of us to come to Earth to make choices and learn and grow. To help us, because He knew we would make mistakes, He sent His Son to atone for us, so that we could repent and return to Him. In that council, an alternative plan was presented. Lucifer wanted to save every soul. He proposed that we all come to Earth to get bodies and live, but that we should be forced to make the correct choices, we would have no chance to make mistakes or learn and grow. Everyone would be returned to God's presence. There was a war in Heaven over these two Plans. God's plan, obviously, won out. We can make choices. Even the choice to have an abortion. 

Women can choose to have an abortion. Not making laws against this act means that, if a woman should choose to abort, she can do so in a facility that is clean and safe. Will she still have to live with the consequences of aborting? Absolutely, and I believe it is something that she will think of every day of her life after. But it is HER CHOICE. The government should not legislate a woman's body.


Gay Marriage. I firmly believe that two consenting adults who wish to spend the rest of their lives together should have that decision legally recognized by the government, especially when benefits and hospital visitation rights are involved. I believe in the separation of Church and State, and I believe that separation goes both ways. Congress can't govern churches, and churches should not dictate laws. Would church authorities, such as pastors and bishops, still be allowed to perform marriages? Yes. Would they have the right to refuse to perform those marriages if their religion forbids it? Also yes. I understand, but have not studied the topic, that the law does not require Catholic priests to perform marriages for those who have been divorced before. It's the same for not being required to perform a marriage for a gay couple. 

Quite frankly, it makes sense to require everyone to get married civilly, then have a second ceremony if they wish to have a religious ceremony. That's how they do it in Peru, and in many other countries as well. It works. The government gets their legal ceremony, the couple gets their religious ceremony.

As far as gay marriage and the Church goes, well, as it has been heretofore revealed, the eternal nature of marriage is between a man and a woman. I don't really see that changing any time soon. I, personally, am all for gay marriage. 

As for the arguments I've heard:
"It makes a mockery of the institution of marriage!" Really? I think hetero marriage had already been thoroughly mocked, by those that have participated in it. Remember Britney Spears' flash-in-the-pan marriage? It lasted, what, 72 hours? What about Elizabeth Taylor's 12 marriages? How is that not mocking marriage?
"Allow two people of the same gender to marry and next people will be marrying their dogs/a child." Well, child brides have been thing for a long time, but hopefully we've abolished that. And it was only when their parents had made the contract. As for marrying pets, well, can that pet sign the marriage license? Does it know what it is doing if it is able to sign by some miracle?
"Marriage is for procreation, gay couples can't have kids." What about infertile couples? Are they required to get divorced when they can't have kids? Gay couples can adopt one, or more, of the many, many children in foster care. That's just an option off the top of my head. Foster children deserve a home, with loving parents. If those parents share a gender, well, then they share a gender.

At work I generally hold my tongue whenever my coworkers talk politics. I avoid political discussions as a matter of principal, but I also don't enjoy being grossly outnumbered. It has been nice to just let this all out. 

If you have questions, please let me know. I'll be glad to explain anything I've said here. 

 



 

A Long Absence and All the Feels...

Up until April of last year, there was one thing I could expect whenever I posted anything on my blog.

Before I get to that, I want to touch on why I blog. I do it to process my thoughts. To figure out why I feel the way I feel, think the way I think. It's therapeutic. Whenever I got a response, it was always nice to read, to see that what I wrote helped someone else or gave them insight.

But the one thing I could always expect with every new post was an email from my mother. She would generally mention how much she enjoyed what I wrote, and that I had a wonderful way of expressing myself. Sometimes she would write a long paragraph about something I had said about the way I was raised. She would try and explain her actions. I always tried to explain that I was writing not to judge her parenting skills, but to figure myself out. I think she understood that, but always felt compelled to shed additional light on the matter I had mentioned in my blog. 

I've been finding it difficult to actually sit down and write a blog for quite a while. I had things I wanted to write about, emotions I wanted to figure out, but I just couldn't find the drive to sit down and write. I couldn't really figure out why. 

This week I got it.

It's because I know I will not get an email from Mom. 

When I lost my mother at the end of May, I didn't just lose my mother. I lost the principal audience for my blog.

When I was writing to figure myself out and gain insight into who I was, I was also providing the same insight for a mother who desperately wanted to know what was happening in my life. 

I really miss my mom.

Who I Want to Be Like, Part 1...

I'm not going to use his real name, even though most of you who read this blog won't know who he is. It's not a guessing game or anything, and where he did nothing wrong he'd probably be ok with me using his name, but I want to be careful, just in case. 

I met this man while on my mission. I served in his ward twice. It was my first area, thought I didn't really get to know him until I returned a year later. Let's call him Eduardo.

When I returned his wife had started cooking meals for my companion and I and another set of Elders. When I walked in my first day back she said hello, then, "We had another Elder Crosby here about a year ago. Was he your cousin?" I said that that was me. She responded, "No, you can't be, he was nice and fat." It took a while to convince her that I was the same guy. When Eduardo came in he said hello and gave me a big hug. He recognized me right away.

It didn't take long for me to notice that while Eduardo was a returned missionary, he didn't participate at church. He never gave talks, never gave the prayer, nothing. I found out that he had been excommunicated. I didn't ask what had happened because, well, excommunication is a private matter. Later on I found out the story. 

Eduardo had been a member of the Stake High Council. One night he caught the Stake President stealing tithing money. Eduardo called the president on it, so the president excommunicated Eduardo. Obviously this was an abuse of power, but when someone came to Eduardo's defense, that person was also excommunicated. I don't know how many years this lasted. I would assume more than five, because Stake Presidents typically serve about five years, and I think Eduardo was waiting it out.

Even though his excommunication was completely unjust, Eduardo followed the rules. He didn't participate in church, didn't take the sacrament, didn't wear his garments. What he did do was go to church every Sunday. He paid his tithing, albeit through his wife. He didn't complain or speak ill of the Stake President.

He would often get asked to pray, or explain the meaning of a passage of scripture. He would simply decline and say he couldn't. 

His oldest daughter turned eight between the times I was there first and the second time. She wanted to wait until her dad could baptize her. I think she was almost nine before her parents convinced her to be baptized, that it was going to be a long time before her father could perform that ordinance. 

I cannot imagine the pain Eduardo experienced on a daily basis. He was always cheerful, never bitter. In his situation it would have been so easy to get angry at the Church, to decide that he just didn't want to be a part of it anymore. 

I cannot fully express my admiration for Eduardo's Faith and Humility. He is the personification of long-suffering. He loved having the missionaries in his house on a regular basis. He took the time to help my companion and I when we were having troubles.  He waited patiently for the time to come when the records were corrected. Those records have long since been corrected. He is even more happy and prosperous than ever before. He hasn't let his ordeal change him. He never let his faith waiver. He knew that everything would be made right. And it has. 

I want to be like him.

  

My Mother's Funeral...

...went very well. At least I think so. 
     I was asked to speak at the funeral. I put a lot of thought in what I wanted to say about my mother. Here is what I prepared to say. What I actually said was a little different, but not by a whole lot.

My siblings asked me to speak today. When I asked them what topic they wanted me to focus on, they said to speak on Mom. My first thought was, "That sounds kind of like a eulogy, and we already have one of those, I don't know that we need another." So i thought some more, trying to figure out what angle I could take.

            I remember Mom as a natural caregiver; she liked taking care of others. She didn't want anyone to fuss over her, and she never wanted to be the center of attention. You could tell this about Mom by how fast she would cover her face or hide when a camera came out at family gatherings. I'm pretty sure Mom wouldn't want a sad funeral, full of people saying how much we miss her. I'm kind of surprised she didn't pull a Grandma Adams and nix the idea of a funeral completely.

            So the direction I want to take is to celebrate her life, not mourn her death. So what I want to talk about today are Things You May Not Know About Mignon Adams Crosby. Or maybe you did. My hope is that I can help you smile, or laugh, or giggle, and forget the gaping hole her passing has left in our lives, even if only for a few minutes.

·         Mom was a social worker. She helped those in need, particularly in the area of placing children in adoptive homes. She did this in California and Utah. One of the children she placed grew up right here in Kanab.

• ·         Either in college or while she was in California she had a fish named Dammit.
  ·         While attending BYU, Mom had a deaf roommate named Chick. Chick was pretty adept at reading lips. When Mom and her other roommates wanted to say something and not lot Chick "hear," they would cover their mouths with their hands.
        In the late 70s/early 80s her favorite television show was The incredible Hulk. Later on her favorite show would be Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, and, even later, Friends. I find it incredibly amusing that one of her favorite shows was The incredible Hulk. When i was a kid she wouldn't let me watch Thundercats because the main villain, Mumm-Ra, was "ugly." I think that if you held an ugly contest between Mumm-Ra and the Hulk it would probably end in a tie.
  ·         For many years her favorite author was Danielle Steele. Right up until she and Dad were called as Temple Workers. Then she stopped reading her romance novels and gave them away.
  ·         Mignon sounds like an easy name to say, but not if you see it written first. Mom was the one listed in the phone book and we always knew when it was a telemarketer calling. Well, a telemarketer or Aunt Celeste. She never quite got the hang of Mom's name. "Mick nun."
  ·         When you lived in or stayed at Mom's house you quickly learned that she had many rules. My friend Mariah Alderman once got banned from the house for "being too loud." If you know my sisters this seems like a silly rule to have. When Dad was gone Mom would sometimes declare that lunch was under "library rules," meaning no one talked, we just ate and read our books. Once when several of us came home for Christmas we found that Mom had actually prepared and posted a list of rules for us to follow while we were there. I can't remember specifics, but it was quite long.
  ·         Mom would occasionally be unintentionally funny. For example, while I was on my mission, Mom had everyone pass around a tape recorder and say hello. When it was Mom's turn she said, and I quote, "It's so hard to think and talk at the same time." End quote.
  ·         Mom was a creature of habit, especially when it came to Sundays. Before going to church she would put our Sunday dinner in the oven to cook. It was almost always roast beef, mashed potatoes, carrots, onions, gravy, and a side vegetable. If we were assigned the Celestial or Terrestrial church times (11:00 or 9:00) we would have the roast dinner for lunch. Supper would be cinnamon toast and hot chocolate or holiday orange bread. If we were at the telestial time (1:00) Sunday dinner would be dinner. At 7 or 8 O'clock mom would prepare popcorn then go upstairs to read her book. She would usually take her Pepsi with her. Well, it started as Pepsi, then she switched to Caffeine-Free Diet Pepsi, then to Diet Coke, then to regular Coke. Mom was a complex person.
  ·         You had to watch Mom pretty close. She would sometimes ask you "For a swig" of your drink then proceed to drink half of it. Depending on the size of your drink, that was way more than a swig.
  ·         Mom had some bad habits, but they were ones she couldn't help. She had a cacophonous sneeze. Keith and his family could hear it across the street. Maria and I once went to Ace hardware for something. We walked all the way there. While shopping, we heard Mom sneeze. She was at the front of the store while we were at the back. We walked up and found her. Mom would deny this strenuously, but she also snored. When I came home from work at 3AM, I would creep up the stairs then listen at my parents' door. There were two distinct snoring patterns going on. She never believed me when I tried to tell her this.
  ·         Mom was super organized. For example, whenever we traveled to Mesa to visit family we would leave at 7AM. Once we passed Fredonia, Mom would hand out Donuts and Chocolate milk. Two days before leaving she would freeze a jug or two of water so we had cold water all the way to Mesa. We would always stop in Cameron for a potty-break. Mom always had butterscotch candies for us to suck on. And we always listened to John Denver, Patsy Cline, & Afterglow.
  ·         Mom was also brilliant with finances. She would feed our family on a teacher's salary. That takes smart budgeting and organization. And powdered milk.
  ·         Just over 4 years ago, Mom was in an automobile accident. The following were things she said while medicated.
  ·         She got a voicemail from her sister Helen. Mom was talking and responding to the recording. She realized what she was doing and laughed then kept on talking to the voicemail.
  ·         At one point she was adjusting the blanket and said, "Oooh, it's not very wide. (disappointed) Oh, I forgot where I was going to itch."
  ·         Mom declared she was bejeweled at one point due to all the electrodes that were monitoring her body.
  ·         While on the phone with Helen (for real this time, not a recording) she started coughing and hacking, then said, "Well, actually, it's from a hose that was stuck down my throat last night."
  ·         At one point Maria checked her phone then said, "Ohhh, it's Josh's last day with his Scout group." Mom responded, "Why? Are they kicking him out?"
  ·         After getting her gall bladder removed, Mom said a couple funny things while again medicated.
  ·         She described getting an MRI: "They put me through the donut-hole."
  ·         She also said to her nurse after maneuvering out of bed, "Help me go to the bathroom. Well, support me and I'll do the rest."

Mom's done and said many more funny things. From here I want to shift gears just a little. There will still be some humorous notes, but I wanted to mention some things that represent even more closely who Mom was.

            In 3 Nephi 14: 16-20, Christ is talking about false prophets and how to recognize them, but it teaches us how to recognize a good person.

16. Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?

17. Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit.

18. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.

19. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire.

20. Wherefore, by their fruits ye shall know them.

            When Mom married Dad, Dad already had six children. A lot of people wonder how she managed, because that's a rather daunting prospect. Mom was a wonderful person, and I think that covers most of how, but there's one other ingredient: Mom had practice.

            When Mom was 15, her mother, Zada Perry Adams, died, leaving Mom, her dad Louis, and her two brothers, Jerry and Mark. A couple years later, Louis met Theda Shelley, whose husband had died in a car accident, leaving her with six children, Donald, Linda, Mark, Marla, Raelene, and Helen. Since Mignon was 17, and almost ready to graduate and go off to college, Louis and Theda decided Mignon should have her own bedroom, much to the consternation of her four new sisters and Mark Shelley, who had to share a bedroom with those four sisters. Something that Mom learned from this experience that she took with her when she married Dad and had two more kids was that we are siblings, not half siblings, not step siblings, just siblings.

            Mom loved her brothers and sisters very much. She loved to go on the Sisters' Retreat that they had every year or so.

            So to Mom, suddenly having six children wasn't completely out of her previous experience, just that before she suddenly had six new siblings.

            Mom first got to know Dad through letters. Dad was living in McGill Nevada at the time and Mom was in Mesa, AZ. Dad wrote first. When mom got his letter she thought it was from a real estate agent in Nevada. She quickly learned differently. After getting married, Mom and Dad lived in McGill for a little while then moved to Utah, first to Alton, then to Kanab once they found a house. A year later they found a better house on the same block, and moved there, where the family lived up to present times. That house is home.

            After the family moved to Kanab, Keith Robinson came home from his mission in England. seeing that he had new neighbors he came over to say hello. The story goes that Mom answered the door, saw that it was Keith and said, "Lisa, it's for you!"

            Having a daughter and son-in-law live nearby was handy. Once, when Mom and Dad went out of town, Mom had Lisa and Keith take care of me. While Mom was gone, Lisa potty-trained me and weaned me from my bottle. Most mothers don't have it t hat easy.

            Later on, Mom was pregnant with Andi. At the same time, my sister Lisa was pregnant with Brandi Dawn and my sister-in-law Kathleen was pregnant with Daniel. since they were in the same ward, the three families would sit together in Sacrament meeting. Sometimes Dad would be sitting alone for a minute with his pregnant wife, daughter, and daughter-in-law. People gave him some strange looks.

            Mom also touched t he lives of everyone in the 4th ward. She was Relief Society Presdient for 5 years. In those five years she carried the burden of organizing 62 funerals. That's an average of just over 1 per month, for five years. The phone rang for her so often we would often say, "Mom, it's for you!" before even answering it. And this was before the days of caller ID. After the call we would often ask, "Who died?"

            Mom served willingly and well, even when the thought of her calling gave her panic attacks, like when she and Dad received their mission call to Thailand. The people there still love her. I have received a couple messages from her friends there saying how said they are and how much they miss her.

            By their fruits ye shall know them. we are the fruits of Mignon's time on the Earth. And if the fruit is any proof, Mignon Adams Crosby was a pretty amazing person. Mom I love you and I miss you. I hope you keep and eye on all of us and let us know when we're breaking the rules.

            May we remember the good and happy things from Mignon's life as we struggle to find our way in world without her.

            I'm grateful for the Gospel and for my knowledge of life after death. It gives me hope. Mom, no offense, but while I can't wait to see you again, I hope it isn't for a while.

            In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.