Traditions

My great-grandmother was born in 1900 and grew up in the shadows of Bunker Hill Monument in Boston. She was the only child of Doctor Allen and grew up attending finishing schools and those sorts of things. I have recently discovered that, unbenownst to my great-grandmother, there was a covert group of people who had a yearly tradition of jumping into Boston Harbor on New Years Day. In fact, the tradition started years before my great-grandmother was even born. I don't have any reason to believe that she ever participated in that tradition or even knew about it. However, there were pictures of people from her time period jumping into the icy Boston Harbor.

Fast forward a little over a century to New Years 2008. My sister, Ginette, and I were both home for Christmas break and decided to break the annual tradition of dull New Year's Eves and headed to Boston. We ended up running into several people we grew up with and were invited to join them for the 'Polar Bear Plunge'. Ginette and I were quite excited to go.

When we told mom, she refused to believe us until she saw it for herself. (It seems that my yearly tradition of April Fool's engagements is beginning to catch up with me.) Well, for those of you who join my mother's scepticism, I offer the following exhibits:

Exhibit 1: Before the plunge

(Bandits: Chantal, Luke, and Ginette)

Exhibit 2: The Plunge



Exhibit 3: After the Plunge

(Luke, Chantal, and Ginette soaking wet)

Anyone up for next year?

The Quiet Stillness of the Morning...

I woke up late this morning. It is Thanksgiving, and I felt no need to hurry out of bed and jump into my day. There was something different about this morning from many other mornings for the past couple of years...the ideas. I used to be a person who woke up in the morning to ideas, people I should write notes to, things I should do, quiet nudgings came throughout the mornings. It was just the way things were before law school and I never thought much of it. I used to keep little post-its and notebooks by me through out the day in order to keep track of all of the thoughts, promtings, and ideas that would come on a regular basis. The margins of my college notebooks are filled with notes of thoughts that came during classes or while studying. But with the intensity and anxiety of law school, my mornings for the last few years have been waking up and focusing on accomplishing the tasks that needed to get done.

So, if there is one thing I am thankful for this year, it is the quiet stillness of the morning in which I know that God is real. It is at those times when I am most aware that He loves me and everyone around me...down to the details of their lives.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

My Other Hobby

There Must Be a Reason

There is a generally known rule in the world of singledom that people aren’t just single by chance. In fact, it is commonly known that there must be a reason. We set out to figure out why the owner of this blog is single. It was an epic research project.

We began by interviewing her parents. “She has always been the competitive type.” said her father in a recent interview, “I really think she is out to beat my record.” Her mother, on the other hand, attributes it to her plain dressing. “I really think that if she would just spruce up her outfits a bit, it would help immensly. The things she wears are so drab.”
  

Her peers seem to think differently. A man who preferred to go by the unexplained codename of Mr. Pickle recently told reporters that it is because she is so opinionated. “I can’t tell you how many times she has been spouting off in a public setting about the things she can’t stand – like the time she went off about how much she can’t stand people who alphabetize their book collections right after I’d spent the last four hours alphabetizing mine!! Stuff like that doesn’t exactly help her dating life.”
 

Another peer, known to some as Mr. X, reported that her inability to return phone calls was probably the root of the problem. A recent survey, however, indicated that 55% of Chantal's friends wish that she would stop calling them. An overwhelming 85% indicated that they have started using filters so they didn't have to read her epic e-mails.
 

Recent singles ward graduate, Dave Welch, claimed that. “There is only one plausible explanation, she is crazy!! I tell her all the time, just pick one, we’re all the same, just a different serial number.” When asked about this at a recent press conference, Chantal affirmed that she is crazy but made no comment about what kind of cereal she prefers.
 

Her college friends on the other hand seem to have a different opinion. Her old roommate Heather insists it is because her intelligence is intimidating. However, Elliot refuted this by pointing out that her keys are permanently lost. He further points out that even if she found a man, she’d probably lose him. Jake S. insists that it really boils down to the fact that she is an overt man-hater. Mrs. Abboud, a not-so-recent addition to their tight knit group, disagreed vehemently stating that the whole man-hater thing was all a misunderstanding and that Chantal is actually a decent human-being. Chantal confirmed that she currently has no idea where her keys are.
 

Her life long friend Kristi S. recently told the press that it really boiled down to the radiance. “I’m telling you, before we were juniors in high school, we realized that our overwhelming radiance was the source of all of our problems.” Kristi was unable to explain how this radiance phenomenon did not prevent her from getting married.
 

Recent law school friend, Mark T. reported that she spends way too much time in the library. "I tell her all the time, if she ever wants to get married, she can't be in the library every Friday night. I am only here because they pay me!" However, her ex-boyfriend Chad scoffed at this idea. "I got engaged on my hour break between studying for finals. It can be done. She just lacks determination." Chantal looked like she was about to cry at the suggestion of spending less time in the library.
 

Shaun, a friend from her college days recently explained that it boils down to TMA – too many aptitudes. However, in a recent statement Chantal simply said, “Um…have you tried my cooking?” And for those of us who have, we’ll leave it at that.

My Latest Hobby

If right now you are thinking rrrrrriiiiiiigggggghhhhhhhttttt, then clearly we are friends. I always thought yoga was wierd until my old roommate, Rachel, talked me into trying it to shake up the daily running routine. It turned out to be amazing for streching and strength-building but truthfully I haven't done a stich of yoga since then - until this past Saturday. I am generally up for whatever so I agreed to give this yoga thing a try without much hesitation. (The acrobatics part was never mentioned.) I really had no idea what I was getting into, but I'll be honest, it was pretty cool. So Cindy, next time you are really struggling with that video game addiction, think acroyoga.

(The same goes for Brien and his narcisistic behaviors, Adam's need to write poetry about twistie ties...actually the image of Adam and Brien doing acroyoga is quite funny.)

Disclaimer: The people in the video are the founders. NEEDLESS to say, the acroyoga normal people do is much milder.

Monks...

If you have been keeping up with the news lately, you are probably aware that there has been some ruckus in Myanmar (otherwise known as Burma) lately. Strangely, much of the ruckus involves protesting monks. This seems vastly different from the image most of us probably have of monks quietly meditating in a pagoda. That is not to say that monks don't meditate in pagodas...but, they are much more multi-faceted than that.

Prior to traveling to Thailand I had drained my local library of any and all books on Thailand. Many of them covered topics like prostitution, culture, architecture...and monks. I was fascinated to learn that a great majority of Thai males enter the monkhood, even if it is just for a three month period. In fact, their king, at the time, had once been a monk (as well as a jazz music composer.)

Once I arrived in Thailand, I bought a paper and learned that the monks were protesting. If I remember correctly, they were protesting because a company had been admitted to the stock exchange that sold alcohol. The monks were protesting this moral decline.

Well, to make a long story short, this is what I discovered about monks:

There are smart, sociable monks (This one spoke English and was quite friendly, but when we tried to talk to him about the Olympics, he had no idea what we were talking about. I don't think they keep up with the news.)








And ones that chat on the job...


(I mean really, aside from the shaved head, primitive brooms, and robes, they are just like the rest of us.)














There are lazy monks...and hard working monks....




















(I hope nobody tries to steal the jade budda on his shift.)

In short, though more multi-faceted than is commonly thought, monks are human just like the rest of us. In fact, being human is one of the essential requirements for becoming a monk...in case you were wondering. Below is a list of the questions they must answer before being ordained, complete with a list of desired answers:

• Do you have Leprosy? (No)
• Do you have boils? (No)
• Do you have ringworm? (No)
• Do you have tuberculosis? (No);
• Are you epileptic? (No);
• Are you human? (Yes);
• Are you male? (Yes)
• Are you free of debt? (Yes);
• Are you released from government service? (Yes);
• Do your parents permit you to become a monk? (Yes);
• Are you 20 years old? (Yes);
• Do you have your robes and your alms bowl? (Yes).

(http://www.chiangmai-chiangrai.com/becoming_a_monk_in_thailand.html)

The Blind Man in the Chair

I lived in France for two years. As a result, my mother likes to send me articles about people who are somehow affiliated with France. Last September my mother sent an article particularly pertinent to me because one of the persons mentioned was living in Missouri. He was not only living in Missouri, he was in my stake.

Before reading the article, a picture of an odd-looking man caught my eye. He was staring off into space with his head tilted and metals of honor all over his jacket. He looked like he must be a little crazy. When I read the article, my smirk turned to awe.

Shumway, it turns out, fought in WW II at Normandy where he led his platoon. I've been to Omaha beach. I've seen the graves. I've seen the terrain they fought on. I was there when I was 20 and I remember the sense of awe I felt as I walked by the graves and realized that these men who died were my age. I remember thinking the inevitable questions, 'Could I give my life for the better good at this point?' I've sat through D-day parades, masses, and ceremonies in France. I've felt the profound feelings of respect that can hardly be explained. Needless to say, I already had respect for the men who fought there long before reading about Shumway. Shumway, however, not only fought there, he lost his eye sight. After spending two years in hospitals, he returned home, got married, had eight children, and now has 41 grandchildren.

I've picked up tidbits of information about him. He serves in the St. Louis temple daily. He is a determined person. Once, before giving a talk, he practiced walking to the podium repeatedly so he could do it without aid when the time came to speak. In short, he is a person of hard work, persistence, integrity, depth of character...but most of all, honor.

I was briskly walking out of the temple this summer when I noticed an old man sitting in the lobby chair. He was staring off into space just like the picture in the article my mother sent. I was so exicted to see him, as if I'd seen an old friend. I seriously contemplated introducing myself, but my shy tendencies won out. Shumway, after all, has no idea who I am.