Tonight on a plane ride home I met a man named Henry. Dressed like many other men and women on my flight, his uniform told all of us right away that he was military, and I learned from him rather quickly that he is part of the National Guard working in Infantry/Demolition. When he isn't out on service, he lives in Arizona with his wife and four kids, working as a cop. He worked as a cop for some time before honoring his desire to serve our country. Henry likes to talk : ) not in an overbearing "listen to me" way, but very obviously because he loves life and people, he likes sharing his life with those around him, and eagerly invites them to share theirs with him. It is not often easy for me to open up with perfect strangers. But open spirits, open other spirits. Henry has a very sweet spirit.
We talked about many things including philosophy, and I was able to learn a lot about Serbia, Kosovo, and Albania, but most importantly; about the people there. He has been in Kosovo for the past 14 months, and other than the ten days he was allowed to come home last march to see his new born baby girl, this will be his first time going home. Not once did he even hint that he is displeased with any aspect of his life or let me know how hard it must be for him. Can you understand my respect for this man?
He is working on his masters in philosophy right now, knows that he has 1-2 years with his family, that in 2013 he will be sent to Afghanistan, that when he is 45 he will be able to retire from both the national guard and the police force, and that he wants to be a high school philosophy teacher when that happens. He knows that the military can call him at any time and say they want him to go to Afghanistan a year early, or a year late. He said it as easily as if he was saying his wife might want oranges for breakfast, or bananas. He has picked a path that I would deem extremely difficult, but he has clearly done so with his head facing forward, honoring his choices with happiness and peace. I am 20 years old. Henry is 30. We are not that far apart in age really, but I feel he has lived a lifetime more than I.
My flight from SLC to Seattle was 1 hour and 43 minutes. I remember because they announced it twice. During that flight Henry read a book titled "Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar; Understanding Philosophy Through Jokes", and I read "The Book of Mormon". He shared some of his book with me, and I shared some of mine with him. We shared some laughs and some powerful words from a loving father Lehi to his sons. It's the best plane ride I've ever had.
Henry left the flight with a book of mormon in his hands and a napkin with a scrawled scripture reference that he'd really felt the power of. I left with a new found respect for the men and women serving on behalf of our country. A greater appreciation for forgiveness, dedication, the spirit of God, and enduring to the end with joy. I met a brother today; and Henry will never know it, but he truly was my christmas present this year. He taught me more than he'll ever know.
Say a prayer for the people we call "troops". Whether you agree with the wars they are called to fight, or the peace they strive to uphold; they are souls who are serving up their lives. Giving their time with their little girls and boys, their husbands and wives, moms, dads, friends, cats, chrismas's. Say a prayer. Love each other. And share the gospel.
Merry Christmas
and God Bless
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
I Don't Especially Like Pumpkin Pie
at least, I don't think I do. It's been too long since I ate pumpkin pie though so it is impossible to tell.
However, once upon a time, I heard of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And just the thought of it sounded amazing.
So amazing that when I was offered pumpkin chocolate chip bread I took it assuming it would taste delicious, with a certainty almost as if I'd actually had pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and knew they were, in fact, amazing; therefore every reincarnation of pumpkin and chocolate chip was bound to be likewise. I ate that bread and I was right; it was delicioso. Especially good with a light spread of cream cheese. Great Harvest Bread Co. Opens at 7 am. end of plug.
Which brings us to now. Now being after I've made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for the first, second and third time, eaten other peoples pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, and in essence fallen in love with them.
They get softer after you bake them as the time passes. As the days pass. NO OTHER COOKIE I'VE EVER EATEN DOES THIS!
They are magic. And I have decided I could eat them and eat them and eat them. Like pita chips. Like veggie trays surrounding excellent dressing dip. Like real fruit smoothies.
Except they are undeniably less nutritious than all of those things. Yet so stinking good.
Happy Christmas Nakies : )
guess what?
I'm know what I'm getting you for christmas : )
[figuratively speaking of course]
[you'll just have to wait till christmas to come here and see what you got..]
[and no, I probably won't have time to get online on christmas day. But you shouldn't have time to check then either so we're good.}
However, once upon a time, I heard of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And just the thought of it sounded amazing.
So amazing that when I was offered pumpkin chocolate chip bread I took it assuming it would taste delicious, with a certainty almost as if I'd actually had pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and knew they were, in fact, amazing; therefore every reincarnation of pumpkin and chocolate chip was bound to be likewise. I ate that bread and I was right; it was delicioso. Especially good with a light spread of cream cheese. Great Harvest Bread Co. Opens at 7 am. end of plug.
Which brings us to now. Now being after I've made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for the first, second and third time, eaten other peoples pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, and in essence fallen in love with them.
They get softer after you bake them as the time passes. As the days pass. NO OTHER COOKIE I'VE EVER EATEN DOES THIS!
They are magic. And I have decided I could eat them and eat them and eat them. Like pita chips. Like veggie trays surrounding excellent dressing dip. Like real fruit smoothies.
Except they are undeniably less nutritious than all of those things. Yet so stinking good.
Happy Christmas Nakies : )
guess what?
I'm know what I'm getting you for christmas : )
[figuratively speaking of course]
[you'll just have to wait till christmas to come here and see what you got..]
[and no, I probably won't have time to get online on christmas day. But you shouldn't have time to check then either so we're good.}
Monday, December 7, 2009
Cleaning Windows Makes My Fingers Dirty
Naked Apes: Updates:
~ It is officially December, and my favorite time of year.
~ We have a real christmas tree. I do not believe in fake ones in my living room. [that is not an update, simply fact.]
~ We have wrapped presents under said tree.
~ I've mailed Tommy's christmas present, I kind of lied about the contents, and stupidly wrote "merry christmas" on the outside. Now all the Argentines know it has presents in it. So we'll just assume another lovely person in Argentina is getting kid drawings and other such necessities. ooops?
~ Malls/stores are fantastic places to render service : )
~ I've been dreaming a lot lately, so far nothing particularly good, but it makes for more journal entries.
~ I've learned that being greedy with the redbox is a fast way to lose money.
and urges to purchase and eat ice-cream cones should always be heeded : ) who cares if it's dinner time?
~ I've discovered in the last three days that I really like Ingrid Michaelson.
~ I just finished washing the insides of all the windows in our nook, kitchen, dining room, living room, and entrance.
~ I would have washed the outsides of them too, but it's 31˚ and I was nervous it would freeze + it got dark.
~ I learned that using windex and newspapers to wash windows is a great idea, but it turns your fingers and your mothers yellow rubber gloves black. So don't touch the walls, sinks, or curtains around the windows, or you'll leave a grey spotted trail. like me : )
~ I treated myself to dinner and dessert and light-seeing and a movie on friday because December 4th is one of my favorite days of the year.
~ and light blue, is not the clothing color of the season.
However it is the color of my cousins wedding that I will be a bridesmaid at in 11 days.
wearing something appropriate and light blue that I shall discover before then : )
Merry Christmas
poetry from the past two months:
-----
that shampoo bottle dripped to empty in her wet hand
seconds before she tossed it at the garbage and missed.
minutes before she gave up and yanked my old towel from the rack.
hours before that shampoo residue dried to its edges.
days before she packed every item she could call her own, and left me.
weeks before I found it in the middle of the bathroom floor
having stepped on it for the hundredth time
finally picking up my last piece of her
tossing it at the garbage
and missing.
-----
why is it that the older i get, the more i want to do
nothing.
just climb in bed and begin to sleep
hibernating like a west european hedgehog.
waiting for spring or energy or someone
to tell me I'm old, I don't have to work anymore.
why is it that i'm only 20
and i'm looking forward to retiring
forever.
------
the n stands for noble
dear n. mailman
i understand that this is just your occupation
a way to pay your own bills that call at your own box
these are just white or brown, square items,
directing you to yet another delivery point
another cold sorting in your shivering, squat vehicle
they've grown stale over your days,
letters, pamphlets, dirty magazines or vogue;
grown meaningless as someone else's
fingernail clippings.
You don't know me.
But those small pieces are clippings
of my love,
my joy.
the cargo you carry is priceless
to me.
so please understand the inked papers you carry
are more precious than securing the noon shift for life.
and i'm trusting you greatly to
carry them safely, in your hands
to mine.
-c.m.
------
"sore throats are like
bandaids with holes in them
or ones that don't stick."
-woebegone brother
----
wouldn't it be convenient if we didn't have to pee whenever
the thought entered our minds wouldn't
it be convenient if we just had to sit and
never do menial things again wouldn't
it be less exciting to not need to
move and live and take care of
important things like
peeing.
-----
staring down through stella lane
catching wreaths and trees alight
glistening asphalt, remembering rain,
i didn't think we'd meet today.
though in my mind our paths could cross
my blundering would break our chain,
delicate our secrecy, for we shan't speak
of lovers love, of us for us.
i thought i'd greet this fourth alone
whisper i'd not forgot or lost my love
leave you aligned, a star hung straight,
i'd love you from this lane.
but then there you were not so far
saying words i'm starved to hear
not to me, but in your way,
so i would know you'll meet me there.
-------
my eyes are blue
deep like the northern oceans
thrashing under an angry charcoal sky
they've each a burning core of ebony
melting beneath silver balls of glistening note
to some they say they know something.
maybe.
but mostly they are greedy taking in
and taking up light through gazes
towards golden expectation.
my lips are no good.
unskilled and flawful
they've no idea how to weave out the stories
captured by mind, heart and perception.
stumbling daily on ill-conceived phrases
they wish to resign their post entirely
lost in their graceless beginning
and well aware of more qualified pieces.
my fingers are crooked
only freckled twice,
but bent on experience
and in love with bearing pens,
brushes, pencils.
they know their purpose
and rise to stumble and rise again.
confident enough to continue,
young enough to glimpse their naivete
sturdy with the strength of grasping on.
my feet are imbalanced
but have learned to get along.
they are not used to kicking or gliding
continuing to walk and run up mountains of stairways
certain that carrying forward
needs moments of
standing still.
naturally obliging.
my body works
better than many, although
it is short and small and weaker than others
made of smoothed lumps of clay.
muscles hiding undefined and stubborn.
It deserves harder work and a straighter stance
for being so good and keeping me
from doctors doors,
and safeway pills.
my mind runs more than my legs
in circles, or down ideas winding
questions burning it fuel for always
even in my dreams it brims past bounds
imagining itself everywhere and never seeing
everything it wants to know and hold and keep.
at times it escapes me,
and perhaps before my body is through,
it will leap out a window on a breeze
to catch leave of me crazy.
my heart is best.
it keeps me wise.
soaks in years I haven't lived
sees with eyes more than blue.
my heart is good even in times
when my head hasn't caught up.
making good it intends to do
drawing in people, stop signs, city lights, to keep away
from lonely realizations of being a piece in three
worlds.
but it hides the best of every thing.
Who's me?
------
[poetry slam f.h.e.]
Jeffrey Stewart Lemon
makes you think of citrus yellow,
sour candies, british butlers, fluffy meringue pies,
makes me wish my name drawn out so long
were so poetic and so less white.
---
[shared but written previously]
whisper me winged and whisk me away
for to syphon some sparkles of splendrous sigh
hummed into heart and heaven
to beckon the butterflies flutter of life flight
whisk me and whip me away in this night
whoosh me and rail me in rockets of hail shale
burning to bursting the billows of breaking
lead me with lilies laughing one lovers lost song
tell me tales time has taken from trunks tangled tight
whisk me and warm me till I'm wrestling the night
wring me and bring me to the ring I'll be sling in
past the paths parting, proudly point me and push
high in the helven hopes holding on
brazen me brave strength blind in this blight
warm me and weave me white; I am the night.
------
gently sweeping up the bodies
on the sill where the light comes in
staring perplexities at the delicacy of death
in their wings and poised formations
did they come to this golden place to die
now cold in winters beautiful musk?
or did they when finally beholding suns glory
forget how to fly down from the glass olympus?
so much of the world, they had not seen.
and now in colors faded and yellow
they met me in curls and baggy greys
to be ushered away on a white, damp cloud
fainting of windex
to a cold plastic garbage.
so long winter sun.
------
friday night:
bought 3 movies
1 dollar each
for 24 hours.
watched 1.
saturday early evening:
returned 3 movies
before due time
0 dollars, 0 fines.
saturday late evening:
checked out 2 of 3
original movies, + 1 new
1 dollar each
for 24 hours.
sunday evening:
returned 0 movies,
3 dollars in fines.
watched other 2 movies.
monday evening:
returned 3 movies.
spent 9 dollars + tax
for 4 movies
for 3 days.
I could have planned this better.
------
Hey you!
yes you.
Not to be greedy but
Leave me comments.
Tell me what sucked.
What's good.
What needs a good beating.
How ever am I
going to become
awesome
without your scotch tape,
gum, paper clip, stapler,
chain saw, glued up
constructions of criticism?
Put some clothes on and have fun.
~ It is officially December, and my favorite time of year.
~ We have a real christmas tree. I do not believe in fake ones in my living room. [that is not an update, simply fact.]
~ We have wrapped presents under said tree.
~ I've mailed Tommy's christmas present, I kind of lied about the contents, and stupidly wrote "merry christmas" on the outside. Now all the Argentines know it has presents in it. So we'll just assume another lovely person in Argentina is getting kid drawings and other such necessities. ooops?
~ Malls/stores are fantastic places to render service : )
~ I've been dreaming a lot lately, so far nothing particularly good, but it makes for more journal entries.
~ I've learned that being greedy with the redbox is a fast way to lose money.
and urges to purchase and eat ice-cream cones should always be heeded : ) who cares if it's dinner time?
~ I've discovered in the last three days that I really like Ingrid Michaelson.
~ I just finished washing the insides of all the windows in our nook, kitchen, dining room, living room, and entrance.
~ I would have washed the outsides of them too, but it's 31˚ and I was nervous it would freeze + it got dark.
~ I learned that using windex and newspapers to wash windows is a great idea, but it turns your fingers and your mothers yellow rubber gloves black. So don't touch the walls, sinks, or curtains around the windows, or you'll leave a grey spotted trail. like me : )
~ I treated myself to dinner and dessert and light-seeing and a movie on friday because December 4th is one of my favorite days of the year.
~ and light blue, is not the clothing color of the season.
However it is the color of my cousins wedding that I will be a bridesmaid at in 11 days.
wearing something appropriate and light blue that I shall discover before then : )
Merry Christmas
poetry from the past two months:
-----
that shampoo bottle dripped to empty in her wet hand
seconds before she tossed it at the garbage and missed.
minutes before she gave up and yanked my old towel from the rack.
hours before that shampoo residue dried to its edges.
days before she packed every item she could call her own, and left me.
weeks before I found it in the middle of the bathroom floor
having stepped on it for the hundredth time
finally picking up my last piece of her
tossing it at the garbage
and missing.
-----
why is it that the older i get, the more i want to do
nothing.
just climb in bed and begin to sleep
hibernating like a west european hedgehog.
waiting for spring or energy or someone
to tell me I'm old, I don't have to work anymore.
why is it that i'm only 20
and i'm looking forward to retiring
forever.
------
the n stands for noble
dear n. mailman
i understand that this is just your occupation
a way to pay your own bills that call at your own box
these are just white or brown, square items,
directing you to yet another delivery point
another cold sorting in your shivering, squat vehicle
they've grown stale over your days,
letters, pamphlets, dirty magazines or vogue;
grown meaningless as someone else's
fingernail clippings.
You don't know me.
But those small pieces are clippings
of my love,
my joy.
the cargo you carry is priceless
to me.
so please understand the inked papers you carry
are more precious than securing the noon shift for life.
and i'm trusting you greatly to
carry them safely, in your hands
to mine.
-c.m.
------
"sore throats are like
bandaids with holes in them
or ones that don't stick."
-woebegone brother
----
wouldn't it be convenient if we didn't have to pee whenever
the thought entered our minds wouldn't
it be convenient if we just had to sit and
never do menial things again wouldn't
it be less exciting to not need to
move and live and take care of
important things like
peeing.
-----
staring down through stella lane
catching wreaths and trees alight
glistening asphalt, remembering rain,
i didn't think we'd meet today.
though in my mind our paths could cross
my blundering would break our chain,
delicate our secrecy, for we shan't speak
of lovers love, of us for us.
i thought i'd greet this fourth alone
whisper i'd not forgot or lost my love
leave you aligned, a star hung straight,
i'd love you from this lane.
but then there you were not so far
saying words i'm starved to hear
not to me, but in your way,
so i would know you'll meet me there.
-------
my eyes are blue
deep like the northern oceans
thrashing under an angry charcoal sky
they've each a burning core of ebony
melting beneath silver balls of glistening note
to some they say they know something.
maybe.
but mostly they are greedy taking in
and taking up light through gazes
towards golden expectation.
my lips are no good.
unskilled and flawful
they've no idea how to weave out the stories
captured by mind, heart and perception.
stumbling daily on ill-conceived phrases
they wish to resign their post entirely
lost in their graceless beginning
and well aware of more qualified pieces.
my fingers are crooked
only freckled twice,
but bent on experience
and in love with bearing pens,
brushes, pencils.
they know their purpose
and rise to stumble and rise again.
confident enough to continue,
young enough to glimpse their naivete
sturdy with the strength of grasping on.
my feet are imbalanced
but have learned to get along.
they are not used to kicking or gliding
continuing to walk and run up mountains of stairways
certain that carrying forward
needs moments of
standing still.
naturally obliging.
my body works
better than many, although
it is short and small and weaker than others
made of smoothed lumps of clay.
muscles hiding undefined and stubborn.
It deserves harder work and a straighter stance
for being so good and keeping me
from doctors doors,
and safeway pills.
my mind runs more than my legs
in circles, or down ideas winding
questions burning it fuel for always
even in my dreams it brims past bounds
imagining itself everywhere and never seeing
everything it wants to know and hold and keep.
at times it escapes me,
and perhaps before my body is through,
it will leap out a window on a breeze
to catch leave of me crazy.
my heart is best.
it keeps me wise.
soaks in years I haven't lived
sees with eyes more than blue.
my heart is good even in times
when my head hasn't caught up.
making good it intends to do
drawing in people, stop signs, city lights, to keep away
from lonely realizations of being a piece in three
worlds.
but it hides the best of every thing.
Who's me?
------
[poetry slam f.h.e.]
Jeffrey Stewart Lemon
makes you think of citrus yellow,
sour candies, british butlers, fluffy meringue pies,
makes me wish my name drawn out so long
were so poetic and so less white.
---
[shared but written previously]
whisper me winged and whisk me away
for to syphon some sparkles of splendrous sigh
hummed into heart and heaven
to beckon the butterflies flutter of life flight
whisk me and whip me away in this night
whoosh me and rail me in rockets of hail shale
burning to bursting the billows of breaking
lead me with lilies laughing one lovers lost song
tell me tales time has taken from trunks tangled tight
whisk me and warm me till I'm wrestling the night
wring me and bring me to the ring I'll be sling in
past the paths parting, proudly point me and push
high in the helven hopes holding on
brazen me brave strength blind in this blight
warm me and weave me white; I am the night.
------
gently sweeping up the bodies
on the sill where the light comes in
staring perplexities at the delicacy of death
in their wings and poised formations
did they come to this golden place to die
now cold in winters beautiful musk?
or did they when finally beholding suns glory
forget how to fly down from the glass olympus?
so much of the world, they had not seen.
and now in colors faded and yellow
they met me in curls and baggy greys
to be ushered away on a white, damp cloud
fainting of windex
to a cold plastic garbage.
so long winter sun.
------
friday night:
bought 3 movies
1 dollar each
for 24 hours.
watched 1.
saturday early evening:
returned 3 movies
before due time
0 dollars, 0 fines.
saturday late evening:
checked out 2 of 3
original movies, + 1 new
1 dollar each
for 24 hours.
sunday evening:
returned 0 movies,
3 dollars in fines.
watched other 2 movies.
monday evening:
returned 3 movies.
spent 9 dollars + tax
for 4 movies
for 3 days.
I could have planned this better.
------
Hey you!
yes you.
Not to be greedy but
Leave me comments.
Tell me what sucked.
What's good.
What needs a good beating.
How ever am I
going to become
awesome
without your scotch tape,
gum, paper clip, stapler,
chain saw, glued up
constructions of criticism?
Put some clothes on and have fun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)