Feeling old

Sometimes you just feel old.

Today was that kind of day for me. I was walking through the library--no easy feat given the hordes of freshmen in orientation groups having tours--and after just getting through a mass of young people, when the crowd had thinned out some, a young girl called out "Hi, Myrna!"

It was Julia B., Claudine's daughter, who is just starting her freshman year at BYU. And suddenly the scene of the first time I met Julia flashed into my mind. It was in the library, only on the fourth floor, and Julia was a tiny baby in the pram Claudine was pushing. That happened in late August 2001, 18 years ago.

And here was Julia standing before me today, happily telling me about how she had made a deal with her parents that if she lived at home, she would go to all the social things, so even though she knows her way around campus already, she was at orientation to meet people.

And I was like--wow! The library and work in the library are pretty much the same as they were 18 years ago. I am pretty much the same, even wearing some of the same clothes as 18 years ago. But Julia--Julia has changed a whole bunch! (She--now--could NEVER wear the outfit she was wearing on the day I met her!)

I remember the first day I met her, even though she looks very different from that day 18 years ago. She, I know, doesn't remember the first day she met me, even though I look pretty much the same,  because she has just always known me. Like, she has no memory of NOT knowing me. If you asked her, she could probably not even tell you when she first realized she knows me. Because she just has.

So that just made me think, wow, I have been working here a long time! And I am getting old. Huh.

I do not know how to relate this next thought to the foregoing, but I have just been so grateful for the words that Jim Thompson said at Grant's funeral. Like, when someone dies young, especially someone with some fame, they sort of can become an icon and can be seen as practically perfect.  And I guess this does relate to the theme of being old, because Jim is old enough to remember that Grant went through hard times as a youth.

This is not something that his wife, Janae, is familiar with. When she met him, he was the confident airline pilot that he had become, not the 14 year old who was maybe sometimes in the shadow of his younger, funnier, livelier brother Mark. Grant's sons will one day be young teens, and one or more of them might have some confidence issues. And they will grow up watching their confident dad in all the hundreds of videos which they fortunately will have to help them remember him. And they might feel like they are somehow less.

But if they REALLY had their dad around, he could tell them about those times when he was anything but confident; when he was scared, shy, unhappy, miserable--and they would be able to understand that there is hope for them, that they can be all those things, and still grow up to be confident and successful men.

So I am glad they will be able to listen to the words of their grandfather telling them that their dad was not always practically perfect in every way; that he was very human. (Funeral program recording.) 

A Kinder World

How I miss a kinder world! We once had one. It would be nice to have one again. I don't know how to get there from here.

This experience has been on my mind. When I was in upper elementary school (grades 4-6) we got a new language arts teacher. The way our school was organized, we had a home room, and we all went to the same classes together, but we moved rooms. For example, when I was in Grade 4, Miss Fisher was my homeroom teacher, and she taught us language arts. But we went to Mrs. Shaw for writing, to Mr. Wentz for science, to Mrs. Woolley for reading, to Mrs. Jensen for social studies and music, to Mr. Oshiro for math, and to Mrs. Miyashiro for library. I think we also had PE with Miss Fisher, although it may have been Mr. Oshiro. I may have had him for PE another year. Well, Miss Fisher married one of the high school teachers and moved from our school. So we had a new language arts teacher, Mrs. R.

Mrs. R. seemed like a nice enough person, and she was nice mostly. It was just that when she wasn't nice, she would slam a dictionary down on the head of the person who was in trouble. Not a paperback dictionary. These were hard cover and about 2 inches thick. We each had one in our desk--or on our desk--in her classroom. A couple of people getting whacked on the head with a dictionary, and I was ready to be absolutely perfect in her class. So if she was hoping everyone would behave because they were afraid, it worked for at least some of us.

But it didn't work for other people. They were just more squirrely. So it was harder for them to remember to not do whatever it was that got them in trouble. Not that it was always exactly the same thing...so some people got whacked multiple times. These were mostly boys.

The whacking was getting on the nerves of everyone in the class. In Mr. Oshiro's room we had a suggestion box, and people could write anything they wanted anonymously, so a few people wrote about how unhappy they were about the whacking of the heads with the dictionaries.

Now Mr. Oshiro was also the principal, so sometimes he did some whacking, which was called "the strap." But "the strap" was administered on the hand, and only in severe instances. When Mr. Oshiro read the suggestions about the whacking, his face showed no emotion. He read calmly; he asked questions and let us talk about what was happening.

He told us that we should elect one person to be our representative, and then in class, that person should speak for all of us and tell Mrs. R. that we wanted the whacking to stop. This was a very scary proposition for us; what if Mrs. R. whacked the head of our delegate?

We chose Ronalee B. She was tall. Probably as tall or taller than Mrs. R. She was also very articulate. When the time came, Ronalee said her piece. Mrs. R. thanked Ronalee for telling her, and she said she was sorry and would not do it again.

At the time, this seemed like a miracle. There were no hard feelings. We went on throughout the year as a class, and I think we all learned to appreciate Mrs. R. She was actually a very good language arts teacher, and I personally have good feelings about her to this day. I do not think of her with  fear or contempt.

I do not know if Mr. Oshiro also spoke to Mrs. R. privately and told her to stop whacking kids on the head with the dictionary. I only know that he made US handle the problem--or he made us BELIEVE that we were handling the problem. That empowered us. We all grew in confidence, thinking that we could do hard things.

I often think about this scenario happening in today's world. First of all, how many kids would she need to whack before a parent called the school? In our case, no parents called the school. We kids knew that if you get in trouble at school, you don't tell your parents. Your duty is to NOT get in trouble at school. So, in today's world, after one or maybe two but probably not more than three whackings, a parent would call the principal. Since whacking a child on the head is probably child abuse, the principal will have to call the appropriate agency. The teacher would be suspended either with or without pay. Criminal charges would be brought against her.

There would be a trial at which she would be found guilty because she indeed did whack kids on the head with dictionaries. She would become a convicted felon. She would be on the child abuse list that never goes away--no repentance possible--and would never teach again.

The children would all receive counselling. The teacher would be demonized. The children would grow up believing that they had a horrible, abusive teacher.

Now, I do not think it is okay to whack kids on the head with dictionaries. I rather think it is a terrible idea. But, that said, Mrs. R. was a good person. When she was asked to stop whacking, she did stop. I never heard of her ever whacking again. She maintained a good relationship with our principal; she maintained good relationships with us as children. She didn't become a financial burden on society, sitting in jail. Her family did not have to be stigmatized by her being a felon.

I just think that the kind way this problem was dealt with is a better way. And I miss that kind of world, where kindness can be extended even to someone who whacks heads with dictionaries.

Alberta Trip

Bruce and I with Patrick and Josie left home just after 8 AM on Thursday August 15. Our destination for the night was Janet Navratil's house in Raymond.  Dwayne was actually home, too, along with Sean. Sara has moved to a group home in Lethbridge.

I always love to be at their house. It is a very comfortable, peaceful, calm place to be. And the people are like that too, though Sean always has lots to say. But that is okay! It is fun to talk to him a few days out of the year.

Janet has a new bedroom upstairs! The computer room, playroom, catch-all area at the top of the stairs from the garage has been renovated into a bedroom that sleeps three (double bed and single pull-out love seat) and a space for a laundry room, so Janet can stay upstairs to do the laundry. She also has imposed a new rule on the two downstairs guest rooms: the guests have to make the beds. She decided that the bunk beds were too hard to change the sheets on, and she isn't going to do that anymore. Usually, it is her children and their families who stay in those rooms, so they just have to plan to either bring their own sheets or plan on doing the laundry while they are there.

Janet had all of us sleep upstairs--Josie in the new room, Dad and I in what used to be Scott's bedroom, her grandson Dayvon in what used to be Sara's bedroom, and Patrick in the room off the living room. They can sleep 10 upstairs, and another 15 downstairs!!

Friday morning, we were off to High River. We took Dayvon with us--he had been at Janet's for three weeks, while his mom took his brother and sister to Europe. He was so excited to see his mom he was about bouncing off the walls! (Yet when she came to pick him up, he said, "I need to finish this game first." Ahaha!)

We went straight to Abra's house, then went to check in at our AirBnB. Which was fine. Not my favorite, mainly because we had to walk through their house to get to our suite. Our suite was nice; a large living room with kitchen amenities, a bedroom and a bathroom--but only a baby gate and a curtain between us and their two dogs. Their cat, Scout, was supposedly very shy and we would never see it, but actually, it loved Patrick and Josie very much and since they slept in the living room, could make its presence very apparent to them. So, we did not come and go much. If we came, we stayed, usually, because it was not that comfortable to go in and out. At least, not for me.

Friday night was our family activity in Okotoks. Unfortunately, it was kind of rainy and cold, so we could not do our planned outdoor activities. Honestly, we didn't do our planned indoor activities, either!! We just ate and talked and cleaned up together. Except David's table and Curtis Navratil's table each had a game going for the last hour or so, about 6 or 8 people at each table.

There were a boatload of little girls running around like crazy! That church's nursery has a dress-up box, and all the little girls were all over that! Plus just playing in the nursery in general. It happened that most of the boys were the smallest of the people there, so the girls definitely dominated the play and the racing round the church hallways. They were mostly good, if lively, and people mostly just let them be.

Who was there=42: 
(the old people=11)
Lavon and Dennis Leavitt
Rod and Heather Navratil
LeRon and Colleen Torrie
Bruce and Myrna Layton
Kerry Allred
Rita Hardy
Leola Ilsley (Amy's mom)

The six Hancock cousins who were there: Rod, Colleen, Lavon, Kerry, Me and Rita

Adding the spouses who were handy. Bruce had gone to the van to sleep. So, same people, with Heather, LeRon and Dennis added.

(the teens through adults up to the 40ish range=17)
Abra Layton
David and Ruth Layton
Patrick Layton
Josie Layton
Carolina Cutugno (Ruth's sister)
Deklan Baker
Piper Layton (Baker)
Amy Ilsley
Curtis and Leslie Navratil
Jason Navratil
Megan Rasmussen (daughter of Cara Hardy R.)
Joseph Hardy
Janae (Hardy) and Dustin Purnell
Heather Leavitt Adams

A subset of the available people: Heather, Abra, Patrick and David in the back; Carol, Josie and Ruth in the front.

(the children=14)
5 little Adams girls
3 little Purnell girls + 1 little Brent Purnell
2 little Navratil girls + 1 little boy Navratil (I think)
Scarlett and Arthur

Bruce and little Arthur

Josie, Piper and Abra with Arthur

Amy and Arthur

Amy and Leola with Scarlett and Arthur, who was very much enjoying Scarlett's hair.

Malachi did not go to the family event because he thought he was busy with a friend, going to a comedy thing at the U of C with tickets already purchased. Turns out he had the wrong night in mind, and spent his time worrying that his friend was lost, in an accident, whatever--when actually it was just a mistake. Too bad! It would have been fun to have him with us that night!

Saturday morning, David brought Ruth and Carol, his s-i-l, to spend the morning with us. We went to George Lane Park and did some walking around. David and his dad had to check out silly wording on signs in the park.

2-5 OR 5-12. Not both. Nope.

Then we walked along the river and back into town. Town is sort of turning into a movie set for Heartland.  We were walking around and looking at murals and storefronts that are real and storefronts that are fake, and were about to drive over to Abra's to see if her kids were up, when we heard someone call out "Patrick!" And it was Cameron Navratil.

Patrick, Cameron, and Cameron's middle child

Cameron's wife, Kayla, is a HUGE Heartland fan. Like a mega-fan. She and her little cousins, two from Claresholm, and one from Philadelphia, were hoping to do some Heartland spotting. But Saturday was not a good day for it. So we had a great conversation with Cameron. That was fun!

Then we decided to go to the museum while waiting our lunch reservation, which was for 12:30. Turns out the museum is also turning into a Heartland exhibit/souvenir sales place.

We thought we were meeting Jim and Donna for lunch at 12:30, so with Carol there, we had 9 instead of the 8 that our reservation was for, but it turns out Donna rode over by herself on her bike--a three wheeler with a basket--while Jim was at home cleaning the bus. Jim's way to deal with grief is to stay as busy as possible so he doesn't think about it. I know this is so because he told me that on Sunday!

So, without Jim, we were 8, so that was the perfect number. A train car, which the the venue of the Whistle Stop Cafe, is rather narrow, so there is not much you can do to change the arrangement of the tables and chairs. Meanwhile, Abra was the chef, in the kitchen cooking the meals that we all ordered. She already had done a batch of pickle soup, because she knows that Donna loves it. And Donna did indeed order pickle soup! I think David did, too.

Here is their table: David, Josie, Carol and Ruth

Here is our table: Patrick, Bruce, Me and Donna

The food was delicious. The conversation was interesting. At one point, Donna was explaining how sometimes she is okay, and other times she just can't stop crying. She was having a time like that once, and Jim came into the house and saw her crying and said, "Donna, what's wrong?"  She looked up through her tears and said in shock and disbelief, "What's wrong?!!!" She thought he KNEW what was wrong!! So she had to explain to him what he already knew: that their son was dead!! So the next time he caught her in a puddle of tears, he said, "Are you missing someone right now?"  Donna said he is getting closer. (They just have different ways of dealing with the grief.)

Bruce, David, Ruth, Donna, Carol, Josie and Patrick

Bruce, me, Ruth, Donna, David, Josie and Patrick

I don't think we did much the rest of the day on Saturday, honestly. Abra had to work. We made hamburgers for dinner. We watched something on TV. Malachi really did go to the comedy show, and had a good time. We were all sooooo tired. We left Abra's at 9 pm and went straight to bed. Well, I did, anyway.

On Sunday, Dad and Patrick and I went to the High River Branch while Josie slowly woke up--she was not feeling the best and had enjoyed too much cat attention in the wee hours of the morning. We saw Merrilee Peterson, the Rowbottoms, Nancy Richards (who has sold their house and moved to the other side of town; but she is engaged to a man from Tremonton, Utah, and will be moving when her paperwork comes through. What?!) Also saw Lavon Anderson who was visiting their branch to hear Margaret Dean speak. Margaret was my visiting teacher before she and her husband moved to the Yukon. Also she is Q Barker's grandmother. I practically walked into Jocelyn, so gave her a quick hug, but then didn't see her again after because she rushed to the nursery. The branch is soooooo small!

The talks were excellent! Margaret's was on tithing. Lots of good stories, but mostly the idea that when the windows of heaven pour out the blessings, they may be significant, but subtle. Like, they might be gifts of patience or fortitude, rather than the actual solution to a problem. That kind of thing. The next speaker was from the stake. She said she was so glad to be assigned to the High River Branch and not the ward, because she accidentally gave the same talk TWICE to the High River ward last year. due to an assignment shift at the last minute, she thought she was going to a ward she had not visited. She found out her mistake when a friend in the ward said, after the meeting, "I really love this blah-blah experience. It doesn't matter how many times I hear you tell it, I always enjoy it." She said, "When have you heard me tell it before?!" And that was when she realized she had given the total talk a second time in the same ward! For us, she spoke about a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Broken, as in broken open so the spirit can penetrate it. She told the Rats in the Cellar story by C. S. Lewis, which I don't think I have heard before, but which is very much on my mind since then. (It is in Mere Christianity, which I have read. But clearly it did not sink in.) That God, and only God, can actually fix the things that are wrong with us. We, through our sheer will, cannot; we cannot even perceive what needs to be fixed. Really has gotten me thinking.

Then, leaving Patrick at the church, I drove back to the AirBnB to switch Bruce for Josie. Lots more people we knew in the High River Ward. We sat with Jim and Donna. Brownings had brought a copy of People Magazine, because Grant made it to their Death Notice section. A little paragraph. Scotty would be upset because they called it a paragliding accident, and it was really a paramotoring accident. There was this notice in the High River Ward bulletin:

We talked to Martine Leavitt--Patrick and Josie visited with her at length while I dashed into the Primary to give out hugs. Pat Peterson, Heather Lowe Lawlor, Deb Duce, Cindy Dupuis, Lavon Anderson, Joan Browning and Kaly Court all got hugs from me and a super brief chat. I also talked with Sister James, Juli McCue's mom, to tell her I was Juli's friend. Her mom is someone I have always admired, though she didn't know it. Her husband never had good health, so she had to work. She decided if she was going to work, she was going to be good at it. She went from being a bank teller to a bank manager in her career. You can see, perhaps, how she became a role model for me. Even though we didn't know each other, just Juli had told me about her.

Then after lunch, while Abra and Piper were working, and Bruce stayed at Abra's house with the TV for company, Patrick, Josie and I with Malachi and Deklan went to have a field trip to Kananaskis. It is so interesting how the prairie gives way to rolling prairie, to hills, to mountains. So beautiful. Such a thick, thick, forest!

Josie, Malachi and Patrick

Patrick in the distance in the yellow hat, Josie, Deklan and Malachi closer

Malchi, Deklan, Patrick, Josie. The glasses brigade.

Malachi, Deklan, Patrick

Josie

Elbow Falls with people everywhere!! So many people!

This is silly, but a nice picture of Patrick. Down by the river, above the falls.

All settled into places to sit. Deklan, me, Malachi, Patrick.

Patrick is accidentally hiding Malachi.

All four can be seen!

Josie walking along the river

Deklan and Patrick framing a beautiful view.

A stop at Bragg Creek. Malachi had just gotten miserable. We didn't know why at this point, but we found out why soon after.

May I just say how GREAT Abra's kids are? They are so helpful, polite, kind, always cleaning, not fighting. It was awesome to see! Because it was not always like that. They have grown up to be GREAT people!!!

When we got back to Abra's house, we made perogies for dinner. (We had a bunch of leftovers, but by Monday morning, Deklan and Malachi and Piper had polished them off!--Piper had to work late, and Malachi is a growing boy, and Deklan is one of those who grazes all day long, but doesn't eat much all at once.)

Deklan was working on Monday, but they wanted us to taste his food, just like we had tasted Abra's food, so we were going to go there for lunch. But first, in the morning, Patrick and Josie and I went with Piper to Black Diamond to try to get her contact lenses. We failed--they were not open. So we shopped in Okotoks instead. Dad went with Abra to Shopper's Drug Mart to get some things she needed, especially stuff to help her back feel better.

Lunch was at Knee Deep Bar and Grill, where Deklan is a cook in the kitchen. Our food was delicious, especially the Brussells Spouts. Oh my goodness! So very good!

Deklan wearing his little black net to keep his hair out of the food. Abra and Piper. The rest of us are there, but you can only see part of Patrick's arm and hand, and Josie's elbow. The menus are not very fancy.

 Then we walked through town a bit while Dad and Abra went to the bank. We saw Kayla again, with her three kids and three cousins. They had been in High River from 10:30 until about 2:30 watching the filming of Heartland. That may have been interesting to them, but this sign in the barbershop was pretty interesting to me!

 Here are some shots of the Heartland filming. Not super interesting, really.

Then back to Abra's. A walk around Sunshine Lake for me and my three kids, A, P and J, and then we were in the van. Back to Janet's after supper at Burger Baron in Raymond, where nobody could finish their food because they give too much, then up in the morning and on the road back home. And now we are home. And still really tired, although after two sleeps, feeling better.

And what about the cat?

Cleo stayed at the home of my colleague, Matt Hill. Whose four children were over the moon!

We couldn't find anyone in our ward or family to leave her with. So I had put out a call to my department, faculty, staff and students, to see if anyone would watch her. So many people either had allergies, another territorial and/or mean cat, or lived in a no-cats-allowed place--but Matt said they would take her. He said, "Yup! We’re excited. The kids have been wanting a pet for a long time, so this is a good chance to practice, so to speak. "

After we got home, Matt texted me last night to say: "My kids today said, "I miss Cleo. I wish she was here." So, that went well, too. But now we are all at home. For now. 

Communication Fail Part Deux

Hilariously, this lack of effective communication also concerns an organ.

Quite a number of years ago, I honestly am not sure when, the music librarian was SN, and he negotiated with the professor in charge of the organ area in the School of Music, DB, to have an organ placed in the library. I do not know what the deal was about it; I saw no paperwork; anything important about the placement of the organ in the library was not communicated to me.

My part was to buy an apparatus that prevented the organ from sounding in the building; an apparatus that made it so headphones were required to hear yourself play. I did that. And we happily enjoyed the organ for many years. More than 5. Maybe 6 or so?

Then one day last fall (October 12, actually), DC, who is now the head of the organ area in the SOM called me to regretfully inform me that the organ had been recalled by its owner. DC also knew NOTHING about how the organ came to be in the library or what the deal was about it; DB had actually died without sharing that information, so how could he know? Someone above him in the SOM, however, called DC and said he needed to get a BYU truck and some students and come to the library and get that organ and drive it to Idaho, where its owner was.

And so that happened. It was rather randomly bad timing, because the Daily Universe had JUST published a piece about how there was an organ in the library that anyone can play...and in less than a week, poof, the organ was gone. That was a bit embarrassing, but c'est la vie. Things happen.

We had also JUST had the opportunity to have the organ played out loud for a library event. That was so cool. A literal one time happening, given that a few weeks later, the organ was gone.

Fast forward to yesterday. I was in a library wide meeting in the morning. I got back to my office, and saw that I had voice mail. It was DC. He told me "I have found an organ to replace the one that we took away last year. The only thing is, I have to pick it up today, because she is moving. Can you please call me back as soon as possible. Here is my cell phone number."

I did not know what to do! First all all: DC apparently has spent the last ten months worrying about the loss of the organ and assumed that we would want a replacement. I mean, I am happy to have a replacement, but the library of today is not the library of 6 or 7 years ago, when people could pretty much do any good thing they wanted to do. In today's library, if you want to breathe, the committee in charge of breathing will need to decide if that is okay, and then they will have to take their findings up the ladder until someone with real power can say, "Yes, breathe" or "Nope. No breathing around here."

In other words: I couldn't even tell him yes or no. So I passed the buck to my department chair, who had to call him and let him know that I was not able to say yes, and she was not able to say yes, and we weren't even sure who could say yes or no, but we certainly could not have that answer today. And then she sent me the 8 bazillion questions to answer (well--8 anyway) that she will look over, add to, take away from, and submit to the appropriate committee, who will then decide if we can have back an organ that was taken away less than a year ago.

DC was, understandably, frustrated. He could NOT grasp why we might not WANT an organ. "It takes up about 5 square feet," he said in exasperation. And honestly, it was popular. People played it every day. People who had organist callings, but no organ to practice on. People who just wanted to play through music for any instrument--it has a keyboard; easy enough to pick out a tune.

My department chair said that by the end of their conversation, he was much less upset. Maybe even not upset. The organ will go into the SOM, and they might keep it, and might give us a different one. But she did NOT think that he understood that the answer to us having any organ MIGHT be no. She believed that the message he got was that he needed to be patient and wait for the yes answer to come. But really, neither she nor I know what the answer will be. We are not on the recommending committee. We are not the people above them...we do not really know the outcome.

But we failed to communicate that. The communication about this organ, from the first organ to the potential second organ has been pretty horrible, hasn't it?

Hancock Family Reunion July 24

I am happy! Bobby Hancock, one of my cousin Gordon's sons, had a photo booth at the family reunion and we finally have the pictures, so I can do my family reunion post.

Before I do that, though, we were happy to have Kelli over for dinner on Friday night, so she could reconnect with Patrick, first time they were together in a year due to her driving and his going to Greece. Nice to have the only three children in Utah together for a couple of hours. I love them dearly. And I love the other three dearly, too.

I didn't realize that I was also taking a picture of myself in the mirror!! Oops. That is kind of a weird photo bomb. I also forgot about Josie deciding to connect with her siblings' heads, and didn't notice until I had shared this photo on Facebook. I sort of like the connection; what do you think?

Okay! Family reunion: I will start with the pictures Bobby took at the nice little photo booth they had set up. Okay, so I have a lot of cousins.
Uncle Loren - Had 4 children; 1 died young (Thomas), before I was thought of. 3 living: Phil, Frances and Martha.
Uncle Alma - Had 7 children; 1 died young (Glenda), again, before I was born. 2 have died in recent years (Dorine and Calvin). 4 living: Keith, Myrna, Gilbert and Charonne.
Uncle Roy - Had 4 children. Penny died in the last decade. 3 living: LeRoy, Janeane, Brent.
Aunt Edna - Had 3 sons. 2 have died (Ted, Ken). 1 living: Bob.
Uncle Earl - Had 6 children. I think. 2 have died (Ray, Carol). 4 living: Ron, Gordon, Darlla, Leonard.
Aunt Lillis - Had 5 children. 2 have died (Gerald, Eldon). 3 living: Jean, Mary, John.
Aunt Zilpha - Had 3 children. 3 living: David, Helen, Lavon.
Uncle Leo - Had 4 children, 1 died before I was born (Wayne). 3 living: Ann Sherry, Garwin and John.
Mary Beth - died young, so no children.
Celia - Had 9 children. 1 has died (Nola). 8 living: Darrel, Donna, Rita, Lori, Dwayne, Priscilla, Rod and Kerry.
Pearl - my mom; 4 children: Bruce, Colleen, Arlene, Myrna.
Ila June - handicapped, so no children.
So: the count! - only 49!! That is fewer than I thought!

Darrel, Frances, Me, Bruce my brother, Ron. Martha, Mary, Lori, Gordon. Two children from each of Loren, Earl, Celia and Pearl. One from Lillis.

Gordon and Louise, who knocked this reunion out of the ballpark,and Gordon's youngest son.

Gordon and three of his sons. These guys made the reunion. They were awesome, of course with the help of their women who were amazing.

My mom's representatives: Bruce and Sara, me and Josie, Kelli, Allen and Rosie. And Not-Me the pirate/parrot dog.

Kelli, Allen, Rosie and the dog

Kelli, Allen and the dog

Aunt Celia's representatives: Lori and Jim Olsen with Darrel and Dixie Navratil.

Don and Mary with three of their children (Debby, Denise and Michael), and grandchildren including 3 of Denise's children, 1 of Debby's and 1 of Marianne's.

At the reunion, our group was into playing games and painting rocks. It was Natalie Gee, Darlla's daughter-in-law, behind the rock painting.

Debby, her son Tony, Mary, Allen and Kelli enjoying a card game.

Josie, Rosie and other relatives hard at work painting rocks.

Josie's door; Rosie's flower; Josie's moon; Rosie' cactus; Kelli's 1918 biker symbol.

Family is a wonderful thing. I am thankful for mine! Much as I love my cousins, I have been on the list of those who think we need to end the Hancock reunions. But it is a hard group to eliminate! A few years ago, when Bruce was in charge of the reunion, we tried to spend all the money in the account, but we ended up still with money. I have given money to the Canadian side, and got the account down to less than $900. When I sent Gordon $500 for this reunion, I thought, good--not many people are going. We can slowly de-fund ourselves. But Gordon and Louise sent me a check fot $1080!!! Holy Cow!!!! So now we are back to about $1400 or more. Well, those of us who go do enjoy the chance we have to connect, so that is good. Just getting too many people to be easily manageable! Still, I do love my family.

Communication Fail

This has been a hard summer. I have lots of reasons to be worried about lots of things. Nancy and her family moved. Kelli changed jobs from something she loved doing to something she didn’t love doing. I am feeling some stress about Patrick and Josie and their futures. Too much death this whole year. Patrick went rock climbing for the first time since arriving home and banged his knee up pretty good. I continue to worry about Nancy and her family while they are making the adjustment to life in Atlanta, which seems from afar to be not the easiest of transitions.

But the biggest problem is me. I am the biggest problem.

I just really suck at communication. I am so bad at it. This thing that happened over Thursday and Friday is a great illustration of how bad I am at it; how oblivious I am to even noticing that I am bad at it. And how my failure to communicate effectively really messes things up for everyone involved.

So, on Wednesday when we went to dinner with the Torries, LeRon told Josie and I that while he was enjoying the organ workshop (and probably mostly, enjoying sharing this experience with three of his children) he was very disappointed because he had believed that this workshop would allow him the opportunity to play the tabernacle organ, something he has always wanted to do. This activity was listed on the schedule, but the fine print reveals that they only do this every other year, and this year (2019) was an off year. So, while participants had done that in 2018, and would do it again in 2020, it was not slated for 2019. The plan for him and Colleen is that they will be on a mission in 2020. He is not getting any younger, and he worries that the opportunity to play the tabernacle organ will slip away from him.

So that thought had been planted in my brain.

On Thursday, Josie got off work at eleven, and I decided to run her home even though I had a student party that started at 11:30. It would make me late, but then Josie would not have to wait around. I got back from dropping Josie off at about 11:40, and made a brief stop in my office to leave my purse there, when I saw that my friend Sheri Peterson was at the desk, checking some materials out. Serendipity right there—Sheri and I in the same place at the same time.

She saw me and said, “Myrna! I just met your brother-in-law!” Sheri is an adjunct professor of organ at BYU, and she has been teaching classes at the workshop Torries are attending. So I told her how much my family members were enjoying the workshop, and how my niece Michelle said that Sheri’s class on Wednesday had been her favorite, because it covered just the topics that Michelle is most interested in. Sheri talked about how much she hopes to make the ideas she shares practical for organists.

As the conversation progressed, somehow we got around to the topic of how disappointing it was for LeRon that he would not have the opportunity to play the tabernacle organ. And we talked about where the Torries had come from—Chicago, North Dakota, Canada—and Sheri said, “They should be able to play the organ! We LIKE people to have that opportunity, especially if they have come from far away!”

She asked me about their schedule—if they were going to be here on Saturday, she knew it was easy-peasy because of who was going to be playing the organ that day for the daily tabernacle organ recital. But I knew that the Torries were leaving on Saturday morning, so Saturday seemed to be out. I told Sheri I believed Saturday would not work, but that I did not know what their schedule was like otherwise.

Sheri pulled up the tabernacle organ schedule and saw that Clay Christianson was going to be playing on Friday. “He is just the sweetest man!” she said, “He will let them play the organ.” She said that if they went to the recital, they could just wait and talk to him afterwards, tell them she had said to do that, and he would very likely let them play. But also that she would do her best to contact him and ask ahead of time. I did tell Sheri that I didn’t know what the schedule for the day on Friday was like for the Torries. But I am not sure that Sheri completely understood that.

So I texted Heather and told her that they could maybe play the organ, that Sheri could maybe set it up for them. Heather seemed excited, but also wary—unsure about if they would have the time for it. I decided the best thing for me to do would be to remove myself from the communication path, and let Sheri and Heather discuss whether doing this was possible. So with Sheri’s permission, I gave her number to Heather so they could talk to each other and not go through me, because going through an intermediary is always awkward compared to people just talking to each other. (Especially when I am the intermediary! Because—poor communicator…)

So Sheri and I both walked away from that conversation with ideas in our minds, but not substantiated ideas. Like, I THOUGHT that Heather would contact Sheri right away and tell her their schedule to see if getting into the tabernacle was even a possibility. And Sheri THOUGHT that Heather would contact her, but she also THOUGHT the Torries would want to play the tabernacle organ no matter what. But neither of us knew if what we thought was true. And actually, I don’t know if what I think that Sheri thought is what she actually thought, do I? I am only surmising that based on what Sheri’s actions were.

It was about noon when I texted Heather, so I THOUGHT they would have enough of a break at that time that she could text or call Sheri. But I didn’t say, “If you are interested in the possibility of having this experience, please call or text Sheri as soon as possible so that she can contact people and make the arrangements for you. She will need to know what your schedule is like. If you are not interested in doing this, or you simply do not have time for it, please also contact her to tell her thanks but no thanks. Otherwise, being the kind of person Sheri is, she will do everything in her power to set something up for you, and if you are not able to do it, we need to turn off the “Go, Sheri, Go” switch.” All I did was share Sheri’s phone number. Heather doesn’t know Sheri—she doesn’t know that Sheri would try to move the earth and sky to afford strangers an opportunity. I know that about Sheri, but people who don’t know Sheri won’t know that about her.

So I spent the day imagining that Heather had contacted Sheri. And Sheri spent the day imagining that the Torries would want to do this thing (although she did not know their schedule and so did not even know if it was possible) and so began to set things up for them. It was clear that Sheri was doing this, because at 11:45 pm I got a text from Sheri—she did not have Brother C’s phone number, only his email address, so she had contacted him that way. He had finally emailed her back and told her that after he played the noon recital, the Torries could have turns to play the tabernacle organ. He said where and when to meet him after the recital. I was excited for the Torries that they could do this (even though I didn’t know if they would be excited for themselves) and said to Sheri “That is so cool! Thanks! Did you tell Heather?”

Sheri responded “I can’t tell her, because she never contacted me, so I don’t have her number.” So you see already here is a big problem, and my heart sank to hear this, because I THOUGHT that Heather would have contacted Sheri, even though I did not SAY “Please make sure you contact her, because if you can’t do this, she needs to know that or she is going to invest time into setting it up, because that is just the way she is made.”

At this point it was nearly midnight. Sheri had literally spent 12 hours thinking about providing an organ playing opportunity for out of town organists, and she had pulled it off. But without knowing the schedule of the people involved. I also did not know their schedule. And at that late hour, I was not about to call Heather to try to figure out if this was even something they could do.

That was why I had given Sheri’s number to Heather—to take myself out of the equation, and let them figure out if doing this was even feasible. But I did not SAY that to either of them. I just assumed it. I assumed that Heather would contact Sheri. I assumed that Sheri would not do anything until Heather contacted her. Which was a ridiculous assumption, because I know that Sheri is so service-minded that she needs to be told, “No, don’t do this.” I did not give Heather’s number to Sheri, which I should have done, because clearly, if Heather had not contacted her, Sheri could have contacted Heather and said, “I can set this up for you, but I need to know your availability.”

Like, this is the obvious thing that was a missing piece of the puzzle—when could this happen? Was putting this into an already full schedule even possible?

So, all I did was forward the information to Heather, who responded in frustration that she didn’t know if they could even do this at the time that Sheri had set because of their workshop obligations. I was frustrated with Heather because I thought she would have been in contact with Sheri already and yet she hadn’t been.

But on reflection, I had left too much unsaid! I did not explain things to Heather well enough to allow her to know what needed to be done. Nor did I think to ask, at the outset, is this something that you even WANT to do? Or should I just tell Sheri thanks for the thought, but they just don’t have time for it? Also, was I even talking to the right person? I have been communicating with Heather since they arrived, but it was LeRon who had wanted to play the tabernacle organ, so why didn’t I just text him? (Because I forgot that was possible, that is why. I completely forgot that I had his cell number.)

Anyways, I just feel really bad because I messed that up SO BADLY for everyone. So much assuming and thinking I did, but my actual communication with people left gaping holes. I hope that everyone can find it in their hearts to forgive me. And I hope I can forgive myself. When Sheri said, “But they should be able to do this!” I just wanted to perhaps do my bit to provide a great opportunity for people I love, but in my absolute mishandling of it, all I did was cause frustration for everyone. Aargh.

This, following on the heels of the Thompsons being here for Grant’s funeral and me feeling like I totally mishandled that, too. Like, I wanted to do something nice for Thompsons while they were here, but in retrospect, the best thing I could do for them would have been to SHUT UP and SHOW UP. I did too much of trying to reach out in words (not my strong suit) and not enough of being there—like, I should have driven to Hurricane on Saturday. I was stopped by some unknown shyness or fear—of what? I don’t even know. But showing up would have meant a lot to Donna. Also I failed to show up for the last event, and I should have been there. It doesn’t matter if I had anything to say, or even if I did nothing more than just give each person a quick hug. Showing up matters.

Do you think I will ever learn? Will I ever get this interpersonal stuff right? I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like just going into hibernation all the time, but I know that I need to keep trying.

Happy Reunions!

Good things happen, too! I am still waiting for some pictures to post from the Hancock Reunion which was on July 24, but just this week we have had happy occasions to gather with family.

On Sunday, we had a get-together at Carlie's house, because all of her siblings were here for her son Dallin's wedding. He had a small wedding that we were not able to attend, but it was nice to see everyone at her house on Sunday afternoon.

Patrick and Ash

Jim, Patrick, Ash, Heather, Carlie, Me, Bruce, Cody, Elizabeth, Judy, Wally, Mel. In front: Cali, Maddie, Mindy holding Abbi, Josie and Bridget in the very front holding up her "smart phone" that her mom is needle-pointing for her.

The same people, minus Jim who was taking the photo, and adding in our 2nd cousins Stacey and Theresa Hancock and several of Stacey's children. These are my cousin Bert Hancock's children. Bert is Uncle Alma's youngest son. I used to babysit Theresa and Stacey when their family lived in Taber. Bert was the shop teacher at St. Mary's School at the time Stacey was born. Later, they moved to Raymond and Theresa and Heather, and Stacey and Carlie, were the same age, in the same ward and at school together, and they have had enduring friendships. That is so awesome!

And this week, the Torries surprised us--Heather let me know that she, her dad, and Craig and Michelle are all here for the organ workshop at BYU that runs Tuesday through Friday. Their schedule is jam-packed, but we took the time to meet them at the Cannon Center so they could do visiting and eating in one fell swoop (or swell swoop, which I like better if it is a good thing!)

Michelle was in a class taught by Nora Hess, so she went up to her after class and said, "My little cousin took organ lessons from you..." and Nora said, "Oh, was it Miriam? She is so talented!'

I didn't make us all get in a group for a photo, but except for me, who was the photographer, every person is in at least one picture, and a couple of people in more than one:

LeRon and Michelle

Bruce L. and Heather

Bruce C., Heather and Sara

Craig and Patrick

Josie and LeRon