Beneath the Wraps

            I vaguely remember a class called “Culture Refinement”.   It was taught in Relief Society on the 4 th Sunday of the month.   I remember my mom was a cultural refinement teacher.   I know that was her calling while I was out on my mission. The subjects of her lessons seemed to focus on arts, literature, and customs.   I liked the custom part of it – learning about other cultures, nationalities and backgrounds. The class was dropped sometime before this century – though I can’t pinpoint a date.   I was serving in the primary for so many years.          I guess I was reminded a little bit when we had our lesson on Sunday.   The theme (from my point of view anyway) was on acceptance and loving a person though you might not agree with their lifestyles.   It would be nice to understand different walks of life – what makes one tick.   Becoming more aware of our diversiti...

I have always considered myself an introvert – well maybe not always.  I was evidently extroverted in my early childhood.  School changed that.  School was not a good experience overall. I felt excluded and found myself withdrawn from wanting to be a part of life.                             Illustration by Joshua Seong. © Verywell, 2018. I remember being comfortable in the company of certain adults and grew to accept those who were decades older than me or several years younger than myself.  It was a long time before I was comfortable with any peers of my own age.  I never liked crowds or artificial people.  I enjoy learning but not in a structured environment.  I am better at learning when it isn’t a requirement. I didn’t realize that it was possible to meet in the middle as AMBIVERT exists in the middle of introvert and extravert.   I am ...

          When Roland's ex was a part of our lives, I remember her sending a "friend" of hers with the girls so that she could keep an "eye on us".   I don't believe she and Karen were good friends.   In fact, I now believe that Karen didn't actually know Roland's ex all that well and was not aware that she was mentally disturbed and has a history of using people.   Karen was with us for only two visitations before she told Roland's ex that she wasn't happy about spying on us.   I don't know the conversation except that she had realized that she must have liked us better than Maleficent.             Karen had a daughter named Alexis.   I believe she went to the same school as Pamprin and Francis, and that is how they knew one another.   Alexis took a shine to Roland.   She loved him.   She played with him along with his girls and he treated her j...

            A couple of weeks ago we had the missionaries come over for dinner.   As we were talking, one of elders made the comment that several people don't see us a family oriented church.   I took the opportunity to explain to him why that might be.   Though there is a strong emphasis placed upon the family - even the definition according to the proclamation (see here ) seems discriminatory.   We're not all like that.   The average family doesn't fit the mold. The proclamation gives us an ideal that we are supposed to strive for.             When I wrote this post , I referred to a couple named Juleen and Al Jackson.   I mentioned how I'd been under the impression that Juleen had believed that the show should have focused more on their story (or families of similar living) rather than explore those that didn't quite fit into the mold of "Mormon living"   - she DID NOT say it that wa...

        I watched the 2016 version of Ben-Hur for the first time last night.   I don't recall ever having made it through the 1959 version without crying, so why should 2016 be any different?   Jenna looked at me after the Chariot Race scene and asked if I was crying.   I cry for a number of reasons each time.   She had excused herself before the crucifixion.   That was heart-wrenching.           I had recently met some of my water buddies at the local coffee shop.   One asked what makes one a Jew.   Is it a race? a religion?   It doesn't matter - we're all part of the human race.   He was just wondering.   I'll admit I've wondered about that myself.   I sent him a link to this site .         I am one who could never be in the Klu Klux Klan or put labels on people - usually I don't know.   I don't know if that would be consider...

   My dad was a man of few words.   He did not share much of himself with anyone - including his own children.   So when he did share experiences with us - particularly about his past - it was indeed a rare treasure.   Although I may have not appreciated it at the time, I now realize what a treasure it truly was.        We were having a family home evening lesson - I'm thinking on judgement.  I remember him sharing an example from his past.  He said that there was a boy in his class who was not all that nice, one that had the reputation of a bully.  Someone whose personality clashed with everybody.  My dad was no exception.  He said though he had tried, he just didn't like the guy.        One day the teacher had given the class an exam.  My dad said his arm was in a cast at the time, and he wasn't able to write the answers in the given amount of time.  When ...

“Paperboy” takes place in the mid to late 50’s sometime after Elvis had made a name for himself and when Arkansas started integrating schools The story takes place in Memphis and reads like a journal.   No commas, no quotations.   Very cleverly written, I think. The summary of the story itself got my attention, but what really intrigued me was Rob Buyea’s recommendation.   I had posted a review on Buyea’s books here Victor Vollmer has agreed to take his friend’s paper route for a month.   He enjoys throwing papers and is good at it.   His problem is with collecting money, for Victor has a stuttering problem and lacks the confidence in talking with people. But he learns a lot and meets a few people that he may not have otherwise.   He records his thoughts and some conversation and little by little the reader can see the growth of this young man. There doesn’t seem to be much of a plot until pretty much towards the end – after all...

Formally titled "Walking in Another’s Shoes (or "What Are the Odds?")" Miranda and her mother live in Arizona.   They had come to Utah to spend the Thanksgiving Holidays.   On Black Friday they found themselves at an Old Navy store in Sandy, Utah.   The two were smiling as someone took their picture, which evidently Miranda immediately posted to her facebook page.   The focus should have been on mom and daughter – to see their happiness.   But for some reason her facebook friends seem more drawn to the woman in the background.   Apparently she wore a sour expression that many “friends” felt the need to poke fun at.            I have not seen the photo myself nor read the hurtful comments.   But I’ve been told that they exist - or did.   And with the given track record of facebook, I have no reason to doubt it.   People can be hurtful and mean and put others down without even knowing them...

I love Love LOVE this book.  I think it’s the best piece of historical fiction that I have read EVER . . . Kristin Levine did a lot of research before writing this book found in the juvenile fiction.  Originally she thought she would do a story on the Little Rock Nine but as she was doing her research she learned about the WEC (Women’s Emergency Committee) and the STOP (Stop this Outrageous Purge) and the battle of Segregation/Integration and the closing of schools that followed the Little Rock Nine. The author’s mother had left Little Rock in 1954 – three years before the nine were admitted to Central High.  She hadn’t had a first hand experience in the events explained in the story. The story is told through the eyes of Marlee, a twelve – thirteen year old white girl who makes friends with Elizabeth – the new girl who is light enough to pass for white, but really she is what was then referred to as colored or Negro.  Today we say African American...

While I was reading   this post , my mind flooded with ideas for a comment I might leave – but there were too many thoughts racing through my mind that my fingers couldn’t keep up with what I thought I wanted to say – so while trying to condense my comment (so that it did not come out to be longer than the Jake’s post) I made errors with spelling and smooth transitions.   My comment sounded disjointed and stupid – to me anyway.   Perhaps not all of it sounded unpolished and sloppy.   My thoughts were flying faster than I could get the words out. When I reread through the first comment that I left, I realize I should have just stopped at the second paragraph. I copied the first two paragraphs and deleted my original comment and tried again – with just the two paragraphs and a link for my brother’s blog. I’d like to share my ideas and hope that they are valid and helpful.   But I don’t want to sound preachy. Some of ...