Beneath the Wraps

Before I entered my last post, I knew I wasn’t finished with what all went through my mind yesterday.  I don’t mean for these posts to sound morbid, but rather respectful.  There are many who may not understand why I view funerals the way I do. I couldn’t have been more than three when I was first introduced to funerals.  It was someone from the ward.  We weren’t close but apparently I had inquired about going.  Mom didn’t even think I even had known whoever it was, but I had been told that mom had confronted with the neighbor across the street who suggested she take me because it wasn’t someone close and it would give me exposure without being a traumatic situation that perhaps I could experience if the situation was with someone close to me. I’m guessing I must have been a lot more reverent than Jenna has ever been.  I don’t remember anything about the experience – nor do I recall going to grandpa’s funeral just a few months later...

There was a funeral in the ward today – a man I didn’t actually know.  But Roland was presiding and asked me to be there.  The funeral did not start until 12:00 and yet I had been asked to be there at 11:00.  I still don’t know why. So while I was there I started reminiscing over some other funerals I have attended during my lifetime. I have attended well over 40 funerals (perhaps more than 50) during my lifetime.  I don’t say that to boast – it’s just always been part of my existence.  As a result, I have always been surprised by the ignorance of others who find themselves in a situation of having to make funeral arrangements and not having a clue as how to go about it. Death takes place all the time.  It happens all around us – I suppose for some more than others.  And each culture/religion views death differently and there are just as many funeral ceremonies as there are ways of dying. For some cultures it is considered disrespectful ...

We all know a David Smith such a common name  In my case you were the boy next door middle child your mom and my mom showed pregnant bellies three times the same time – well maybe just two and a half. Tow headed blonds we both were neighborhood games and school Your family had the only trampoline there for a while chain linked fence separated our back yards we grew neither of us married until our late thirtys you had two daughters I have one.  Wish we could have gotten them together before you passed on a year ago last month Your final act of service happened when you were only 49.  You were in the basement of your parents up  on the ladder  I believe  and you lost  your balance  or your footing and you fell and left this earth life.  Your family will keep your memory alive and I hope that your girls may visit often and learn more about who you we...

         Children call her the animal balloon lady as she has brought her pump and balloons to various activities providing the children with a sweet gift to take home (provided it doesn’t pop first) Noel announced a service that she would be providing for parents to drop off their children for four hours and she would provide snacks for them and a play a holiday movie and provide other activities.  Sounded like a great bargain to me.           I signed up for Jenna’s sake more than my own.  I figured she’d enjoy the activities and association with whatever fellow classmates might have showed up.           Noel offered two shifts: 8-12 and 1-5.  I chose the earlier of the two – figuring there would be less children and it wouldn’t be so overwhelming for Noel to have a huge amount of children in her apartment.      ...

          It was 5:30 when we received a frantic knock on the door.  Jenna dismissed herself thinking it was the next door neighbor who had already dismissed himself three times when he did not get his way.  I had thought the same thing – but at the same time it was a more aggressive knock – one of panic not childish play.           Jorge’s mother had a worried look in her eyes, “Is Jo rge here?” she asked hopefully.           “No, I’m sorry.  I haven’t seen him.  Did he come home from school?”           “No.”           Jorge and Jenna don’t even go to the same school.  I had no clue how to help her.  Her cell phone drowned out my question, “How can I help?”           I wo...

          Communication is SO important – whether it is the working place, or homes, our churches, our communities . . . and it’s important that we all stay on the same page.  We need consistency.            I recall one work place that made egg salad sandwiches.  Some of the workers would put pickles into the mixture, while others refused because they thought it was gross.  I don’t care if the egg salad has pickles or not.  When I am in a working environment I would expect to make the egg salad according to what the customer orders from the menu and expects – not to my own personal preference.  I think when a customer expects a certain product, he or she should receive the same product or courtesy or satisfaction that kept him or her coming back to begin with.           I know different cooks have their own ...

When I was a youth, the only children that knew the principal were the ones who misbehaved during class.   And the only parents who knew the principal were the parents of the children who acted up.   I never knew my principal.   I knew his name.   I knew what he looked like.   But because the only children, who actually knew him personally, were the “bad” children, I had taught myself to be afraid of my principal.   Growing up, the principals were always male.   A female principal was unheard of.   As I have checked out schools in ours and surrounding   districts,   I am finding that it is rare to have a male principal – at least over the elementary schools. Two of the female principals I’ve encountered seem to have sticks up their butts, artificial smiles, and dagger themed tones to their voices.   Not pleasant.   But the principal at Jenna’s present school is so so different from any principal I have ever encounter...

I had given her the nickname Hitler because of the way she was barking – trying to keep children in line.   Okay.   I understand a little bit – from personal experience I do know that not ALL children listen.   And sometimes it is necessary to bark to be heard.   But when she barked at me, I was offended.           I was wearing the visitor name tag – only she hadn’t seen it as it was beneath my coat.   Perhaps she was just having an off day – or maybe I was.   But she didn’t make a good first impression (and maybe neither did I)   Still it was wretched of me to use a same wicked nickname on her that I do for Roland’s ex.   NO ONE deserves that!           I have repented of my ways.   I no longer refer to her as Hitler.   I think her name is Sarah – or perhaps Sarah is the tot she pushes in the stroller.   Though the Tot was not with h...

          Everyday school crossing guards put their lives on the line – whether intentional or not. With the guard at Jenna’s school it is intentional.   Oh, sure,   there is more than one crossing guard, but Mr. Ruthless is stationed at the main street populated with cars and drivers with led feet.           Drivers might not respect Mr. Ruthless, but I think as I parent I would feel honored to have him as Jenna’s crossing guard (if we were near enough to go on foot) but because my usual route is to drop her off behind the school,   my encounters with Mr. Ruthless have been brief.           Mr. Ruthless is one who will intentionally put his life on the line.   I am floored whenever I see it happen.   And yet I can’t help feeling a sense of pride that he is seriously willing to lay down his life for our children. ...