Cascading Consequences

Have you ever tried to skip a rock on water? If you choose a small, flat stone carefully and throw it so that it strikes the water parallel to the surface, it can skip six or seven times before it finally loses momentum and sinks. But skipping creates many overlapping ripples that spread out from each bounce of the rock. Soon however, the water settles down and the ripples disappear. The things we do or say are somewhat like this, but here the metaphor breaks down. Often what we do or say remains in the hearts and minds of those around us for many years, even a lifetime. It may even be passed on to future generations. Even though they are not seen, the effect of the ripples is immeasurable, especially with social media – consequences can cascade far beyond our ability to control or manage them.

Eithth-grade Glee Club

So… here I am in eighth grade at the old Antioch Junior High School. I survived seventh grade the year before, enduring considerable bullying and even some petty blackmail by the big time ninth graders (Karma fell upon them when they became freshmen in high school the next year).

I had always wanted to learn to sing, so I signed up for eighth grade glee club. I had never sung before in any organized fashion, but I really wanted to learn. The sad end of my first semester was that the teacher actually asked me not to come back for the second semester. She not very kindly informed me that I could not carry a tune in a bucket. I was the only one (that I am aware of) she removed from glee club – very embarrassing, and it resulted in a mostly lifelong assumption that I could not sing.

Trees of Righteousness

Once again I have chosen to revisit Isaiah 61:3 (look it up) because the idea that the Lord is willing to prune me to help me become a “tree of righteousness” is so inspiring to me that it just pops into my mind from time to time. I do want to live up to the potential he sees in me – which I often do not see in myself as clearly as he does – but which must be there if he sees it. So I am willing to keep trying.

The Wild Chicken Eggs Incident (circa 1953)

We only lived in LaVerkin, Utah for about 2 years, but I thought that it was a wonderful place to live, with considerable forgiveness for boyish mischief and stupidities, and all the freedom I wanted of the town and the hills.

I quickly made friends with Leon Duncan, who lived next door to me. We did everything together. We roamed the hills and fields around LaVerkin all summer, went to Church together, worked on our Trekker bandaloes together (an LDS Primary thing), and cooked and ate some rotten eggs together, among other equally dumb things.

Come to Scratch

I have told this story before, in a 2010 blog post, but I think it’s worth retelling seven years later. It seems to fit well with the intent of this post. As you will see as the discussion proceeds, I “came to scratch” with the adversary and lost.

My first chance to get a taste of real beer came one evening in Antioch, California when I was about 14 years old, as I was babysitting our next-door neighbor’s children. They were not LDS, and there were three or four beer cans on the table in front of the couch. There was also cold beer in the refrigerator. I didn’t have the courage to open a fresh one, but as I shook some of the cans on the table, I discovered that they still had some beer in them. After some personal discussion with the adversary (or one of his minions):

My Personal TOUCHDOWN!

When I was in 9th grade in the old Antioch Junior High School (long gone now) we had gym class every day. We suited up in our grey shorts and tee shirts (gym uniform – everybody wore the same thing) and went out on the playing fields to do whatever our gym instructors wanted us to do.

The Murals

In the Salt Lake Temple, the walls in the various rooms are covered with beautiful murals. While the temple is not open to the public (only church members in good standing may enter), many smaller renditions of the murals can be seen in the work of the 5 art missionaries sent to Paris to prepare by studying with the masters of the Paris art scene. They were to return and paint appropriate murals on the walls. The most prominent among them was a Swiss-born artist, John C. Hafen. You can find out much more about him by Googling John C. Hafen, or Utah impressionism.