Reception Reflections, Kylee and Daniel, August 2015

 setting: an LDS multi-purpose room, anywhere

Oh the brothers and sisters can celebrate! The women are magnificent, powerful, ethereal, their divine futures peeking through. Sandra glides, floats, shines. The men are solid, well-muscled, disciplined, sharp. Doug, polished, precise, in uniform. Doug has his station nailed, the liquid is handled. 

In Idaho, be nowhere in the heat without liquid. Dallas is surrounded by generations, beaming, holding court. Ashton is confidence itself, patiently waiting. All this is his oyster too, now to smile, soon to do. Jacob moves sharply, smoothly, glides and skitters through the crowd. Black, white, and vertical black suspenders, nothing gray or passive. Cassidy is fierce and focused, dancing, dancing, dancing some more. Turning circles, eyes up, drawn to the chandelier. Minette is perfect Minette, no detail unattended, in command, My eyes follow her around the room, waiting for my orders, waiting for her to tell me where I might be needed, how I can help, what to do. 

I'm a floater, no assignments, ready. I know how this works, each part. I stand still and the celebration flows around me. I have been in the thick of it. I have eaten cake, I have been fed cake. I imagine what people are feeling, at least generally, I read the faces watch them interact with each other. I look at each person, every table, hardly moving, not difficult if one is tall. The father, Adam, everywhere. I talk with the bride in occasional eddies, so much wonderful, so happy, so beautiful. The funnel through which the future flows. And then the mystery to me so far, Daniel. Oh dear Lord, he is an island of calm purpose at his own wedding, a man who does, a man for whatever season comes. I don't really need any more information. 

Some faces project easily into lives unlived. Times that do not exist but will exist. Unique lives discovering all of life's dimensions again for the very first time. Making it all up, passing it all on. Saying good-by. Stepping aside. Relearning everything we worked so hard to figure out. Sliding into holes, tripping over rocks we cannot tell them about. It's a game I play, seeing lives flowing out into the future, knowing the territory, knowing sorrow and grief, knowing love, first love, true love, having children, grandchildren. So what if I mix up people's futures in my imagination? All the roles get filled, all the time. i took my turn being responsible for the world, making things happen, moving, shaking, striking fear, taking things seriously. 

Now I play the grandfather's part I remember from childhood, another fun time, every bit as good as being twelve, on the good days anyway. On the bad days just keep moving, one foot and then the other, do what must be done. Twelve and knowing how it works. Twelve and dancing. Simply stay on my feet, keep moving, my entire plan. Work is good for you, relaxing kills you. The body responds as long as you keep shoveling. Do not slow down. 

Children of mine all, listen. God is always. He's fine. You are fine with Him. Nothing to do, necessarily. Smiling is good. God can make it all seem without effort, like He's doing nothing at all. A good quality to emulate, effortlessness. God is there for me, has been for all my people, as far back as time goes, will be there as long as it takes. We love you all so very much. Pay attention. The big decisions are the one's you hardly notice at the time. Things rarely appear without warning. Yes, everyone else is watching the jolly circus, focused on the clown in that impossibly tall hat. Pay attention.

Originally posted on Facebook where it will lie entombed for time unknowable.

A Gun for Defense

I must thank an ex-soldier buddy for teaching me why NOT to buy a gun in 1967.  During the last 50 years I have watched Americans load up on guns and ammo at a frantic pace.  Everything I have learned during that time only reinforces Tommy's advice. In the hands of amateurs, guns get you killed.  Tom Heib was an American military advisor in Indochina during the early 1960s.  Early, before my generation's blood was squandered so lavishly, pointlessly in Vietnam.   Who better to help me pick a gun?  Tommy, that marvelous, vain, sneaky bastard.

Is the US a more dangerous place today?  I walked or rode my bike everywhere.  My mom only told me to get back before dark.  She never even learned to drive.  No, this is not a more dangerous world.  Not any less hostile if you are Black.  It feels more dangerous though. Popular culture is scarier, predators and violence everywhere.  We are obsessed with watching, hiding, exposing and controlling female bodies. Parents now chauffeur their children.  Well of course you have no time, silly people.

Of course your kids have allergies.  Children are designed to be dirty, supposed to come in intimate contact with everything in their environment very early.  We are not "designed" to move far away from the place we grew up, the place where we are immune to everything.  We descend from very long lines of hunter-gatherers.  We hunted and ate animals.  Living with them is different.  Medicine is still fighting diseases that animals tolerate. Our dwellings were warmer when we started sharing them with animals, but not healthier.

The Islamic State is simply the latest in a long line of blow-up bogeymen.  Fear!  Fear!  But they will not kill you on the streets of Boise.  Only your jumpy, concealed-carrying neighbors might do that.  My advice: Keep your hands in sight around strangers.  It's not only the cops who will blast you fearing the imaginary gun in your pocket.  Toy guns now get children killed routinely by frightened adults.  Progress.

Where did Osama Bin Laden and the Islamic State come from?  We created them by demolishing their world on a whim, leaving them with nothing but hatred and weapons.  We Americans created these nihilists.  We did it personally, on the ground, in their faces, from their skies and with sneaky cluster bomb-lets when we finally exhausted our treasure, declared victory and retreated.  For nothing.  For George Bush's petulance.  Now we try to eliminate them by re-breaking what we had previously broken so effectively which is why they hate us so much.  How much more can they hate us?  We will see.  But they are there and we are here.  The only thing we must now fear is our young and clueless not-quite adults.  Which is what always drives us crazy.

Back to the absurdity of "defensive weapons."  Animals in the world can be classified as either predators or prey.  Predators have by far the worst of it.  Prey always vastly outnumber their predators.  Prey evade being caught so effectively that predators can only occasionally catch babies, the old, sick and stupid.  Being a predator is hard, get it?

Yes, we breed cows to be stupid and render them defenseless.  Those wicked old bulls do actually have value with their long, sharp horns, but we won't let them near our artificially inseminated ladies.  Big bulls keep a herd safe from predators.  Oh how terrible, my defenseless calf got picked off by a wolf.  Predators have the really difficult life, remember?  If they are eliminated the prey animals will have lots of babies, eat everything in sight and then starve.  Yeah. Shoot that wolf ignorant fool.  Only man is capable of ravaging his own world through ignorance and false bravado.

If a predator gets anywhere close to you, human or animal, the best thing to do is what prey always do.  Look big and scary, or blend into invisibility.  Flee quickly, scream, hide, lie still as death.  Get something weaker between you and the predator.  Outrun anyone at all.  You know how this is done because for most of human history we were prey.

A gun in your hand messes with your mind, which is how it gets you killed. This is what Tom Hieb taught me.  You suddenly imagine you are a predator too.  Hey, you have a gun.  You move toward the actual predator rather than running for your life. But you are only delusional prey ignoring every prey survival skill.  You are masquerading as a predator with stage claws and wax teeth.  As ineffective as predators really are, often they can get the crazy, stupid ones.

A gun messes with your mind, makes you forget how to live another day.  I know, you spent a few hours at the shooting range.  You are ready for the rapist-terrorist.  Sure you are, in your imagination.  Have you ever noticed that cats really like to play with mice that fight back?  A cat will only eat a mouse when the mouse isn't fun any more.  Prey that try to fight back are so much more interesting.  Strap on that gun, deluded fool.  More likely your angry wife will kill you with it.