Bike Theft (Day 20)

I enter his office and take an offered seat. The painting of 

George Washington kneeling by his horse in prayer 

draws my attention, as well as the pictures of his family behind him. 

Where is George Washington? I think. 

Where are the fine gentlemen with the wooden teeth that don't care for power or greed?

I look to the badges and stars on the wooden clock: "Sheriff" one reads.

-It was one of the better jobs in the country.

"There’s two kinds of auto theft- Grand theft larsony and joy riding," says Brother Garth Gunderson, University Security Director. Brother Gunderson clarified that bike "borrowing" is not borrowing at all, but is theft, in our interview last Tuesday, and that there is little or no distinction between it and car theft.

"Pety theft is a misdemaneor punishable by the fine not exceeding 1000 or by improsimnotent in the county jail not exceeding on year, or both," he says, quoting out of the book. When someone on campus decides to steal a bike, they pick-up a large chain of events. Most often a student will steal a bike at the top of campus, near the Ricks building, and coast on it down the hill, leaving it down near the snow. The victim comes out to find their bike missing, and "its a sick feeling to walk out and have your bike missing." They do not know if their bike has just been borrowed so they call the campus security. The campus security in turn alerts the Rexburg Police department, and they in turn file the report on the theft. The security sends out their men to search all of the bike racks, starting at the bottom of the hill working they're way up. The bikes are often found off campus, parked in other racks. The victim loses their time. The police and security loses their time, and "the loss just in man hours is usually larger than the cost of the bike." 

"They should be charged with the crime of impersonating an industrious person,"says Brother Gunderson, or in other words they are just being lazy! When asked what we should do to stop this, he replies "lock your bike up...we have not taken a stolen bike report in the last ten years where the bike was locked up." Its as simple as that- if we do not want bike theft on campus all we have to do is lock our bikes. And why don't we lock our bikes up?- "for exactly the same reason that people dont lock their doors on their apartments when they leave."

15 out of the 22 bikes at my rack were locked today. We can all look forward to future surveys in accord with Brother Gunderson's suggestions, and also a lock your bike campaign, helping students be aware of their security. 

"I'm sure there are criminals that just completely rely on the naivety of the students. They could make a killing!" says student Katie Weaver. She locks her bike. 

-Would you like to see an end?

-Oh yeah, I'd love to see an end to crime on campus- but I'm not looking for another job yet.

The Art of the “Doctrine Throw Down” (Day 17)

The Art of the “Doctrine Throw Down”

I thought a lot about my topic for my guest appearance on Mr. Simons' illustrious blog. While I had plenty of interesting ideas, what I really wanted was something that would capture the core of our mission experiences together. Once I had that angle in mind it wasn’t difficult to see that what was needed was an explanation of what Simons and I call a ‘Doctrine Throw Down’. Having never actually been companions, the then Elder Simons and I took part in these ‘bashes’ during splits and various zone conferences throughout both of our missions. 

So what is a ‘Doctrine Throw Down’ then? Well, actually there are three different types: the hardcore lds doctrine exploration, philosophical speculation, and last but not least ‘apostate smack-down’. Each of these subgenres deserves a little explication of its own.

Hardcore Doctrine Exploration: This is the most common and frequent type of all.  It consists of talking about and seeking to better understand the writings of LDS scripture, general authorities, and scholars. It can be either peaceful or involve the debate of disagreed doctrinal points. Simons and myself were usually in concordance on the majority of issues, so the debate side of things usually didn’t occur. A word of caution- doctrine know-it-alls (like a certain secretary turned AP from our mission whose name shall remain anonymous) can completely spoil your endeavors. Deep doctrinal discussions are more fruitful those with a solid understanding of the gospel, but your best bet is to throw it down with individuals who have the humility not to derail the discussion with their pompous recitations of the Journal of Discourses. Of all the three throw downs this is certainly the one that leads to the most practical and applicable knowledge.

Philosophical Speculation: As the name suggests, we are dealing here with something far removed from any notion of practicality. This is where interesting connections between the Gospel and other belief systems can be discovered and obscure points of interest can be pursued. While such discussions can be glorious and extremely spiritual, such as Simons' and my conversation about the applications of Kierkegaards “The Crowd is Untruth”, this version of the throw down is the most likely to get bogged down in nonsense. Interesting discussions of this sort can easily swerve into silly things like ‘were dinosaurs on the ark?’, ‘what’s the deal with Cain and Bigfoot?’, ‘do the three nephites wear modern clothing?’, ’what kind of animals will you make when you’re a God?’(an utterly blasphemous and stupid question to be throwing around flippantly) and other such things. And it only takes one over eager “Tennis Shoes among the Nephites” or “Twilight” aficionado to make you never want to compare a doctrine to a work of fiction for the rest of your life. 

Apostate Smack-Down: This only really happened once with Simons and I but it was sufficiently epic to deserve mention. It was New Year’s night. Being in the same house for the occasion Simons and I took it upon ourselves to not join in the others in their festivities (there really isn’t that much intense party stuff to do as a full time missionary anyway) and started in our usual doctrinal discussions. This time things took a turn of exceeding awesomeness however, when we raised the question “What false doctrines do many members commonly hold?” The result was an entire night long of running through and deconstructing all the heresies we could think of in the hallowed tradition of Bruce R. McConkies’ “Seven Deadly Heresies”. I don’t have space to go into everything; a few of the more interesting points we raised will suffice.

Heresy: We all chose our family members specifically in the pre-mortal life. This heresy is particularly imbedded within LDS culture because so many of us are brought up with some sort of version of this same theme. Out of all the points that could be raised against this heresy, the best is that simply it cannot be found in any of the Standard Works or doctrinally binding statements by church leaders. Our first Mission President, the illustrious President Silva, raised the interesting question “If everyone got to pick their families, why would anyone not pick to be born into the Covenant?” A better way of looking at this idea is to say that God picked our families and we got to sustain His decisions in the same way that we sustain our General Authorities.

Heresy: God is always learning and will never come to a fullness of knowledge. You might be surprised how prevalent this heresy is among members. I need say little on the topic for great doctrinal expounders such as Joseph Fielding Smith and Neil A. Maxwell have destroyed this heresy from about every angle already. Basically, if God did not have all knowledge He couldn’t be God. 

Heresy: Captain Moroni acted immorally in putting those to death who would not bow down to the standard of truth. Come on people!!!!!!! Are you trying to sound ridiculous? The Book of Mormon specifically says that if all men were like unto Moroni, Satan would have no power. What the fetch else do you need?!?

Heresy: Those who go to the Telestial or Terrestrial kingdoms will be able to progress upwards until theoretically everyone will be Celestialized. The idea of such a thing is an utter mockery of all the commandments and the sacrifice that Christ made in Gethsemane. Members who espouse such nonsense do not realize that they are in effect rooting for the plan of Lucifer in which everyone will be saved eventually.

Heresy: Parents who reach exaltation will be able to lift their unrighteous children up to the Celestial kingdom. Um……..I am staggered that anyone can accept such an idea. This stems from a misunderstanding of an admittedly hard to understand statement by Joseph F. Smith.  Yet that’s not excuse for espousing doctrine which completely undermines every principle of the Gospel. If such were the case then if Adam and Even reached exaltation then none of us needs to worry about anything because they will be able to start an exaltation lifting chain that will save all of us. How ludicrous. 

Well there you have it. I know that the few of you who made it through this whole post are now chomping at the bit to get a throw down going. As long as you use good judgment you can have yourself a good’ole time. Perhaps the throw down won’t be as awesome without a cacau to eat as you walk around the beautiful scenery of Bahia, nor will it be as enjoyable without a Jaca waiting for you when you get home. But we can all make the best of what we’ve got. Enjoy! 

Keoni Chuang (Day 15)

-How do I spell your Grandmas first name-

how do I refer to your grandma respectfully in Taiwanese-

is it by the first name, last name? 

-Yeah, the last name- Chin, C-H-I-N.

-If you dont go now, you will regret it for the rest of your life!- repeated Keoni Chuang. Those were his father's words, used to spur Keoni in the direction of a mission. His father had not served a mission. He was baptized when he was 17, he and his mother, Grandma Ching, were some of the first members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and he felt he was not prepared to serve. If Keoni were to go he would be the first LDS missionary of his family.

- I don't want to because I don't want to lie to people, because I don't even know myself, how can I teach people this is true.- Keoni rebuttals. He was born into the church and says that he just believed what his parents told him, but that he had never known for himself. At this time he and his family had been living in Kirkland, Washington for a few years. Keoni and his sister came over from Taiwan first, and stayed with some friends; his parents later followed. He was now faced with this decision: to give up two years of his life for something that might be true, or to shirk the responsibility and move on to other things. He decided to attend Bellevue Community College for a few semesters and think things over alittle. 

Time went by, and a few months later he found himself riding on the Seattle Metro. Most likely it was overcast outside the tinted windows of the bus and Mt. Rainer was nowhere in sight, and a slow incessant drizzle that had been around since the end of last winter, that had no intention of leaving, dripped on the road. Why do we tint our windows in Seattle?

 -It wasn't his voice but it was those words that echoed in my head- If you don't go now you will regret it for the rest or your life.- It just clicked. His father's words came to him like the Nephite Prophet Enos recieved his fathers words before his time of prayer and repentance. Keoni realized on that bus that he had to serve a mission. His life just did not feel right where he was. He had his friends. He had school. But something was not right. He says that the Holy Ghost testified to him that day that he had to go. 

He turned in his papers and a few months later he was on his way to the MTC, to prepare for his service in California. He knew his father was full of joy inside his heart, even if he did not express it outwardly. The Taiwanese are more reserved. There he was in the most spiritual environment available- missionaries working twenty-four hours a day to be missionaries- to know their material and learn to teach it by the spirit, but still, Keoni did not know for himself- he did not have his own personal testimony of Christ and of his Church. 

It was in a devotional. They were not speaking of  God and if he exists, or  of Christ's existence, but Keoni decided then and there that he would find out if God existed. - So i pray in my heart, do you exist if you are there let me know, and i just had this strong feeling go through my whole body- he is there.

-So you would recommend it?

-Yes, highly recommended.

...

-And your sister? first name?

-Leilani, L-E-I-L-A-N-I.

-Is that Hawaiian? 

-Yeah.

-I have a friend over in China right now. Alright.

Riding Behind the Bike Borrowers (Day 13)

Sit outside your doorstep on weekday mornings at Rexburg and you will see the regular hustle and bustle of BYU-I students transporting themselves to classes; some walk, some drive, some ride unicycles, some ride two wheeled cycles, and others ride "borrowed" cycles. 11 out of the 46 reported thefts this year on the BYU-I campus have been bikes. That is in stark contrast to other US campuses where bikes do not even rank on the top five list for most common stolen items. 

-You'll have to talk with the big man himself on this topic, he will give you more official information.- tells me the woman on the otherside of the divider. She sits with the radios. 


*           *           *             *            *             *         * 

-I used to be a bike borrower- divulges shamelessly the voice emitting from the small box of plastic in my hands. -Again?- I think.

Shiniqua, as she asked to be called in this article, for purposes of privacy, admitted that she also was a former bike borrower, that her and her room-mate "used to steal them," "used to take them for joy rides," "because we felt liked it... because we wanted to ride a bike... we just wanted to ride around." However, after her own bike began to borrowed she realized how frustrating it is when you "go out there and your bikes not there."

Last week, her bike began to disappear sporadically. Shiniqua would leave in the morning to ride her bike to school, come back for a few minutes leaving her bike unlocked, and then would come back to find her bike missing. She would then have to run her way to work to not be late. This went on for about three days, all the while she failed at consistently locking her bike, and on the third day she came out to see the culprit in the act. It was a freshman girl from the same apartments. When confronted the girl responded saying that her grandmother had sent her a bike that was pink and had described it perfectly and that this was the very bike. Shiniqua explained to her that it was hers, but the girl insisted to the contrary. Finally Shiniqua reached under and showed her the permit stickers on the underside of the seat. The girls bike was actually two bikes down and a different shade of pink. Yeah, it's "because she's a freshman," remarked Shiniqua.

This is not a true example of bike borrowing, however, its relevance is great in that it gave to a borrower a bit of her own medicine. Shiniqua locks up now. She has a lock from Walmart that is said to be of more worth than her actual bike which is a handed down relic from the eighties. (I highly doubt that her lock is better than her bike, on the premis that all Walmart products are always of the lowest possible quality.)

Will you lock?

I think to myself- is this the best thing to do? Am I doing the right thing hunting down these bike borrowers? Are they really doing any harm to society? or are they just adding a little spice to the culture? By putting an end to this vogue would we be   withholding freedom or restoring it? It seems like in this day and age everybody roots for the pirates.

Good Goodness (Day 11)

So clearly my ambitions to write a daily blog have been thwarted. My eyes were too big for my stomach. The gap was too big for my leap. From here out I plan on writing three times a week. This will allow me more time to edit my entries and provide quality material, also it will account for any human delays.

That being said it has been an exciting few days. I was permitted to dabble in small town battering and joined the police at my first party at The Dunes. 

I peddled down the road yesterday afternoon when I saw the sign "Yard-sale" I immediately flipped around to fondle their wares. There where three elderly folk out front, far too old to be living still, a mess of goods on a table, and a fine selection of grandpa sweaters and button-up blazers on a few hangers. I perused the variety, finding the jackpot right in the beginning- Paul Simon Negotiations and Love Songs, and The Mamas & The Papas: 16 of their Greatest Hits. 50 cents a piece. There was a sonograph that caught my eye but upon closer inspection I found that it was a fake and that the only antique on the property was 97 year-old Darrel sitting behind me on his camouflaged rocking camp chair. (What did I tell you about the camouflage.) Well, small of price as it were, I did not have a dollar on me.  

I turned to the woman looking over the joint and said, "Listen here, Mam, I will hustle on over to my home and then I will be back for them here CD's real quick, so hold on tight to them, because we are gonna make a deal." 

Darrel

After a small scheming session with my Sienfeld buddy Kyle, and a few minutes, I returned to the yard-sale sign, this time my bag was a little heavier- one peach, one carrot, 85 cents, and an old Nordstrom's clip on tie heavier, to be exact. Scandalous battering pursued, but after a few moments I was on my way with Simon and the Papas, leaving here with the 85 cents and the clip on. I did not hesitate to snap a few pictures of Darrel and his camouflage, before I was off down the road again. It was a pleasure doing business, bless your hearts.

FIRE AND BUBBLES!

The Dunes blew my mind. As good as it gets. The police stopped by, of course, I attract them it seems. Fire, pallets, races, women, sand, man-tights, hats with pom-poms, wool, more fire, more wool, strangers, and bubbles. Oh yes, I did say bubbles. Bubbles and fire together- FOR THE FIRST TIME IN RECORDED HISTORY! It does not get any better than that- except for Bruce R. 

Bubbles! Fire!

I applaud the patriotism Darrel

Reggie Espinoza Beltran Junior

We sit in my room, on plastic chairs. 

His hair is tousled, my MacBook open, ready to write.

My recorder- on.

"It was Mother's Day. I drove with my biological brother to my biological mom's house." Reggie Beltran, a student at BYU-I told me this evening in our apartment. I was very excited to show her my new car, and it was funny, because my brother said, 'Lets take 101,' but I said, 'No we should take 98, its a short cut, we can take horseshoe bend road and we will save thirty to thirty-five minutes. He said, 'No, no it's to dangerous, it's lippery and too curvy.'

 'No we will be fine.'

It was Southern California, and the road they were driving soon turned to dirt.

As I was driving, we were talking about our older brother, because he had some problems back then, and we wanted to help him.  On the side of the road there was a piece of metal." The piece of metal caught onto his tire. "It started to make weird noises, and then- it exploded. My left front tire exploded, and in a matter of seconds I could have turned to my left and there was a concrete bridge and I could have gone into the bridge wall and river. I saw my brother, and I steered all the way to my right, as fast I could." He makes turning motions with his hands. "And I took the impact on the left, on my side." The impact hit hard on his side, breaking the window and windshield.  "My little brother called 911 and took me out of the car.

I was taken to the hospital, and from the hospital to anoter hospital. The doctor said I would never recover my memory because I would kick every one out of my room, because I didnt recognize anyone- even my mom. I told her -Lady i dont know you. It was the first time I saw my mom after my baptism.

Reggie was born in Southern California, both of his parents being immigrants from Mexico. He was raised by an Argentinean family, however, for most of his life, as his father struggled with serious drug and alcohol problems, and his mother was a full time nurse, and was always on call, "always busy." For the most part of his life he had cared for his two younger sisters, and his younger brother. His parents separated when he was 13, and so he moved out and started living on his own when he turned 15. He first met the missionaries at his Aunts house. He had stopped by looking for directions after a long absence from the home. He received directions. As he entered through the door he saw the two men on the couch, in shirts and ties- the first thing he noticed was the name-tags. Four weeks later he was baptized. "I always believed in god," he indicated, "and I paid attention because I was having a hard time." 

He found himself in the hospital, suffering from internal bleeding, a severe concussion, and just recovering from a 3 day a coma, only a few months after his baptism. His mother blamed the accident greatly on his new found religion. One week later his elderly uncle was hit by a car and killed. The following week his mother received a call from LA notifying her that her cousin was killed.  His great grandma passed away three weeks later. Everybody blamed the church.

Amidst the great tribulations Reggie continued to recover at extraordinary speeds. Regardless of the doctors predictions that he would never recover even fifty percent of his memory, he had returned to sixty-percent within six short months. His Bishop had given him a priesthood blessing on the night of his accident, and the missionaries continued to minister to him, offering him blessings every other day.  At the seven month point, the doctor explained to him that only time would help him now he was released from intensive care. He left the hospital in much better condition than he had entered, but his trials had by no means seen an end. 

His mission papers had been submitted before the accident, and now he had to go through numerous evaluations before he was found to be in acceptable condition to serve. 

On the night of his setting apart he sat and waited with his small family.

Reggie what time is it? asked his sister.

It's about 5.

Its not 8 yet?

No.

Then you still have a few hours to regret your decision, your decision to be an elder. If you are leaving us because you are spending too much money on me I can eat the cafeteria food. 

Reggie Espinoza Beltran Junior was set apart as an Elder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints that evening. He did not leave his small family out of selfishness, but rather out of charity- he knew that because of his service as a missionary the Lord would surely bless them more than he would be able to alone.

"I grabbed all my meds, all of them, and emptied them out in the toilet- and flushed them. No depression pills, no concussion pills, no anxiety attack pills. And I prayed and said, 'Father, Reggie died today, and Elder Beltran was born.' "

Reggie went on to serve an honorable full-time mission. He is now enrolled at BYU Idaho. When asked why he chose BYU-I over his other schools he responded- I really wanted to come to a church school. I wanted to have good people around, people who read the scriptures, who went to church, who believed as I do. I love Idaho.

-Here i am. I made it. I made it. He finished.

- I didn't come to get married, I never, had a problem with girls. 

The Lord always blessed me with lots of girls in my life. 

He smiles and gives a characteristic wink. 

I close the MacBook.

I turn the recorder off. 

i < 3 dragons: The Ever so Elite Group of Bahian Literature Afici...

i < 3 dragons: The Ever so Elite Group of Bahian Literature Afici...: "Having served a mission in Brazil in the state of Bahia I was privileged with exposure to an extremely vibrant literary world. Our at least ..."

First Devotional (Day 6)

The great and largely rumored Devotional came to pass today. The first one of the semester mind you. Thousands of students, prepared for this two o' clock hour, drifted onto to campus and flocked towards all open seats in the available auditorium settings of the school.

Swarming like insects over the beach, like bees

That hum from a hollow rock in an endless line

And fly in clusters over flowers in spring,

Grouping themselves in aerial throngs.

(Iliad)

I was just trying to enjoy my highly desirable 12" sandwich when this woman came up to me and held out the "Usher" name-tag. My friends where gathered round me, "You can't put that thing on me," I screamed, "I won't do it." 

"You're an Usher, George?"My friends asked bewildered.

"... Yep," and I stood up taking the badge, "I did sign up for it after all." 

They looked at me like a stranger. I told them to take my stuff in and took my post at the eastern entrance to the Snow Drama Theatre, bracing myself for the oncoming swarms.

A wave from the restless, churning sea

Crashes on a beach, and the water seethes and

     thunders. (Iliad)

Inside, big man in suit on big screen commenced to speak about love and things. Entitlement. The words came forth out of his mouth like water in a babbling brook. If the Spirit of Entitlement infiltrates and poisons the students and the faculty and the staff of BYU-I then the Spirit of Ricks will soon be distinguished. The Spirit of Entitlement is the idea that God owes us something.

How do we know if we have the Spirit of Entitlement?

1. Are we overly critical of others?
2. Do we use the word deserve to often? "I deserve this," "I don't deserve that."
3. Are we to focused on status and rank?
4. If we are not recognized for doing some act, do we immediately start to think "what about me?"
5. Are we often justifying special treatment for ourselves?

The antidote for the Spirit of Entitlement is the Spirit of Gratitude. To have more gratitude, do the following:

1. Pray with real intent
2. Partake of the sacrament weekly, remembering the Savior
3. Go to the Temple often.

When we pray with real intent we will trusting in the merits and the mercy and the grace of Christ. By partaking of the sacrament we remember the atonement of Christ. On going to the temple often we feel more of the great presence and grander of Our Lord God, Christ and the Father. 

These are principles that we should all understand, and if applied in our lives, we will be able to be humble and have strength in God. Truly, I know that Christ lives, that we owe everything to him and God the Father. All that we have is theirs. I desire to serve them with all that I have, and I believe also that in the same way we owe everything back to our temporal parents- they have given us all that we have in this life, if it were not by them, we would not be here.

Then fathers wont get along with their kids anymore, 

Nor guests with hosts, nor partner with partner, 

And brothers won't be friends, the way they used to be.

Nobody'll honor their parents when they get old

But the'll curse them and give them a hard time,

Godless rascals, and never think about paying them

  back.

For all the trouble it was to raise them.

(Works and Days)

But let us rather focus on the good. Gratitude is a great key to happiness. 

All of the available viewing areas were overflowing. At its end I finally rejoiced at my reunion with sandwich, my one true love. 

And then I did the Insanity workout. Ugh, bad choice.

To see the BYU-I official site for devotional.

http://www.byui.edu/devotionals/default.htm

Bike Borrowers (Day5)

"I was a bike borrower once," divulged shamelessly the man at my side. We conversed in a room full of listening people while I was waiting for my TB test. There were deep sea fish on every wall that you turned to, striking colors and beautiful forms buried under fathoms of  water, waiting to be discovered. "Sweet," I responded, "tell me more."

Numerous bikes are "borrowed" every semester here at BYU-I.  "It's pretty ridiculous," commented Marry Moss, "It's probably because there is nothing else to do in Rexburg. "I didn't know that anybody did that," charmed in Matt Rascone. The views and the awareness vary widely when it comes down to bike borrowing here on campus. 

Here's how it is generally thought to go- a late student running down the sidewalk to class, sees an unsecured bicycle, pauses to think, and then hops on it to carry him the rest of the way to class. When the unsuspecting and trusting owner comes out of class, they notice that the bike is gone. They may report the missing bike to campus security, who proceed to perform a search of the campus and generally find it in some bike rack at the opposite end of campus. The culprit rarely caught. When asked about this the campus security responded that most students are unfortunately unaware of this still, even though it has been published in the Scroll, the campus newspaper various times. Two women said that it lowered their faith in the students

"My friends bike was stolen," told Moss, "then he found it again."The friend (friend b) of her friend (friend a)  arrived at the house of a study group member ready to learn more and apply the teachings they had been learning in class, when he saw what looked like Friend A's bike, in a wide open area in the complex. After calling Friend A over to take a look at the bike, it was decided that it was indeed the stolen and missing bike. The consequences are not known at this time.

The man at my side had his black hair up in a fo-hawk, a few Volcom labels dispersed on his clothing. Everybody in the room seemed to be a bit uneasy at this mans open confession of once being a bike borrower- as if it were some great crime.

"I usually returned them back," he stated. "I did it for fun mostly, in the middle of the night, just grabbed a bike and took it around, I 'borrowed' it, I wasn't out to trash it or anything." He said that he did not ever do it out of necessity, or to get to class on time, but one-hundred percent for fun, for the excitement, for the adrenaline. "I left the school, went on a mission, and decided that that probably wasn't a good idea, and that I should probably be more respectful." 

The woman in the white dress and the white gloves called him in, selected him from us to move on to the next stage. 

"Would you lock your bike now if you had one?" 

"I would definitely lock it."

He had been chosen. I stayed behind with the fish, and the interested people.

Who once borrowed now would lock.

A little Kramer anyone?

Direction of the Blog (Day 4)

I would like to discuss presently the direction of this blog. It will not be a public journal of my personal affairs. It is not aimed to be mere "entertainment"nor a ramble of endless nothingness. It will discuss both local and universal events of the past and present, ideologies both political and religious, and also preconceived notions of our ever present social structure and our ability to act on it, generally in relationship with Rexburg and BYU-I and my life within it. We must act and not receive the action. Inherently it should prod to action. Principally, its purpose is to help make us all better people. That is my hope, my desire, my wish- that I, and all of those that read these entries might become better individuals, more able to act and to chose that which is good and comes from God.

“My lord, I should be sorry if I only entertained them; I wish to make them better.” Handel.


Thus said, I would like to lay out the structure for this coming week, each day dealing with a different topic.
Rexburg Monday
Spirit Tuesday
Profile Wednesday
Doctrine Thursday
Miscellaneous Friday
Savage Saturday
Renewal Sunday.


I ask that all those who pass by here to freely express yourselves in the comment boxes, and I invite you all to follow Loving Rexburg by clicking on the button in the top right. Thank you for listening. 

Sincerely  Yours,

George Simons

Day 3: Study and 9/11

Study created
New pathways in my mind. It
hurt me my first time.

As I went out on bike for a small hiatus from my studies, I went around town to see what I could see. I heard that there was to be some largely conspicuous bike ride just waiting to photographed. What I found was an event of much more significance and reflection.

Chief Corey Child

Today, the Sept. 11, 2010, Rexburg/ Maddison Fire Department and the citizens of Rexburg and surrounding towns remembered the sad events of the Sept. 11 nine years ago, and the related death of town hero, Brady Howell.  The memorial service commenced at 6:00 pm and continued untill before sunset. The Keynote address was given by Fire Commissioner who brought the minds of the audience back to the words of Jesus Christ: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13)." This love and willingness was easily seen in the eyes and the attitudes of the service men present. Following his remarks Firefighters Ellis Johnston and Brandon Pope unveiled the new Firefighter Memorial which proved to be deep in symboism: the MFD Crest  signifyies the departments core values of  Integrity, Honor, Pride, and Courage sits at the top, the bell at its side symbolizies years gone by and years to come, the two "I" beams at its flanks representes the Twin Tower Tragedy (send picture at end of article). Johnston then preceded to ring the bell four times, the last ringing into a minute of silence and tears of remembrance.

I stepped quickly to the left side of the bleachers as the great American flag billowed in the wind above me, bolstered on one end to a fire truck's ladder and on the other to a long construction arm. My camera clicked and beeped as I caught these moments and their spirit inside my small box. I felt as if I were being disruptive, but still my feelings that these scenes should be well preserved and shared won over. The Bell's last ring still floated on the air; the words on its plaque beneath it reading "the Bell Rang and so We Came."  Gradualy, bag pipes started to play from some hidden spot. Their location was slowly made know, as the men, the firefighters, in their traditional Scottish garb stepped up on the ridge of the fire department wall. The sun shown down, adding a shine to their impressive display and instruments, warming the cold half mast flag.  

The brother of Brady Howell, deceased,
receiving the flag in his honor.

 Perhaps the most memorable part of the ceremonies was what followed. The flag was lowered as the pipes continued to play; it was the folded and presented to the brother of Brady Howell and his family in respect of the service he had given to his country. Chief Child then offered the closing remarks: "Patriot defined means one who loves his country," he said. He then invited the townspeople to consider the men and women of the MFD patriotic. When asked later what would be the one thing that he would hope that the people would leave with, Child responded by voicing his desire that they would also be more patriotic, that they might be patriots themselves, that they might truly love their country.

I ate the cake. I did not come for the cake, but it was served and I accepted. Why turn down the service? It would be a terrible place to live in where nobody accepted another's service. This does not mean much to me, I thought, as I watched fellow photographers snap pictures of family and friends, and servicemen. The flag, the uniforms, the hats, the sad eyes and the bag pipe music. It was certainly a magnificent and wondrous display, but still, for me, a young photographer, it seemed disappointingly hollow. I was just a small when the buildings fell. I wish I had a reason to cry when I saw the flag at half mast, or at least to smile in remembrance. I know what the flag stands means for, but do I really know what it represents? The country behind it? The souls that gave themselves for it? The smalls towns and the big towns that help make up those fifty stars. The Constitution and the Federalist Papers, I fear, are just words that I hear and do not feel. I want to feel them. I want patriotism to be in my heart, along with God. If giving up ones life for the life of his friends is the greatest love, where does that put a man who gives up his life for his own country? I will better understand these things when I leave Rexburg next December. I will take them in my heart. 

These were the thoughts that stepped through my mind as I ate my cake. The plate and fork were not recycled.

The Patriot Day Memorial

Firefighter Ellis Johnston presenting
the firefighter memorial.

The soloist of the MFD Pipe Brigade.

Johnston ring the bell in memory.

Day 2: Actual Classes and First Date?

Awesome. BYU-I definitely is full of some awe, to say the least. Day two here in Rexburg was full with some actual classes, some more class crashing (cannot do without it) and a bad example of mormon dating.

I arose at a bright seven o' clock, enjoyed a fine breakfast with a mite of orange spice tea, no sugar added, and went off to class I did. My first and second classes were with Sister Arnell, a respectably disagreeable woman, and later I crashed the class of Brother Lane Williams, this time fully succeeding. Brother Williams  played Orchestral music for us as the class began.

The bad example of mormon dating. Do I really need to say more than group date or rather get together with odd numbers? Next time lets X the group. The movie however was excellent.Classic Movie Night, back at the students request, featured The Egg and I, Starring Fred MacMurray and Claudette Colbert, this one took us for a ride through post-war era farming.  Following the newly-weds Bob and Betty MacDonald (Old McDonald had a cow?) who shortly after their wedding start to give life back into an old abandoned chicken farm. A completely surprising and strange film, extremely funny in its humor that  we expected to see more in a modern film. Definitely a must see Black and White.

Day 1: Class Crashing and Getting Involved

I rested in a chair in the Ricks building. The room was dark, and I was alone as I pondered, preparing myself for the school year that was about to begin.

Welcome to the first day of the fall semester at BYU-I.

I rode my bike up the long hill to the Ricks building beneath gray clouds and pending rain at 7:30 in the morning. I thought I had left these clouds behind me when I had crossed over the Cascade range. I hardly reflected the over-head grayness as I parked and locked my bike and strolled on in and up to the second floor. I took a seat in the front row 5 minutes early and whispered to the girl at my side- "I'm crashing the class."- "Oh, fun" she responded. "I am actually in block 2."  The block class is something unique to BYU-I; they break the semester in two, the first part being block one and the second block two. Block classes run Monday to Friday at a condensed rate to run more students through. I was enrolled in the second block of the class, not in the first, but I was making an attempt at something coined by the students here as Class Crashing- showing up on the first day and hoping to get in. The teacher commenced with the general first day syllabus pleasantries and I began to be at ease until a number of late students arrived. The Teacher politely asked us all to check if we were indeed in block one, and, after a small pause I was the first to raise my hand. I left the syllabus.

Walking down the hall in the Manwaring Center, a few hours later, I was on my way to an Ushering meeting I had signed up for. There was a conspicuous young man awaiting in front of a door with a too big of a smile and way to happy to see me. This must be the ushering meeting, I thought. And indeed it was. The woman at the front with the large hooped earrings spoke of love and of service and of the great experiences that awaited us as ushers. The gray clouds still stood outside the window. When she spoke of how we can brighten students lives with our smiles and kind words it seemed that the clouds parted a small amount to bless with the heavenly light from up above. This campus is founded by the widows mite of the families in Armenia, and the widows mite of the single mothers in South America that make a dollar a day. Lets not let it go to waste- lets help the students take full advantage of the opportunities offered here at Rexburg, she said as unexpected tears came to her eyes.

Kim B. Clark, President of BYU-Idaho

After a thoroughly exciting and partly successful second attempt at class crashing I find that I reflect back on the opening orientation days here. When President Kim B. Clark opened on the first day, he immediately spoke of love and prophetic vision. He spoke of the love that we would feel and receive from the staff. He spoke of that we would in turn give off to others whom we would serve. And he spoke of the love that Christ has for everyone of us. The prophetic vision he related to us was that of Elder Wilford Woodruff and of President Henry Eyring. Elder Woodruff said the following when he visitd the Upper Snake River Valley: "I see churches and meetinghouses dotting the landscape ... schools and colleges of higher learning ... as I look into the future of this great valley I can see temples – I can see beautiful temples erected to the name of the living God where holy labors may be carried on in his name through generations to come." President Eyring prophesied more specifically of the future excellence of the students of Rick's, that  the students would go out into the world and would be sought out by the employers and by people for their great leadership capabilities, that would be drawn to them and would desire to follow them. I do feel the love here. I feel that staff does want something more than to simply pass us knowledge.They want us to be better children of God.


And now I find that the day comes to a close.

Prelude

All of my life I have been trying to avoid Idaho. A dry and desert land, I see it, void of all decent life and culture. Dwelling on the east coast in my younger years and relocating to Washington in the west to pass my adolescence, I have been ingrained with a negative but comical stereotype of all mid- westerners and "middlers" if you will. I have been made to imagine them: A bloated, middled-aged man, with his rifle in one hand and his all-controlling remote control in the other, sitting atop his camouflaged-reclining-with-a-bilt-in-mini-fridge-throne; his shirt folded up to allow his bearded beer belly to breath, his whiskers over-grown, his face eternally sunburned, his neck born red, one eye lazy and the other just works well enough to hunt down the big game of the season. Put simply, Idaho just never appealed to me. I do enjoy a good potato now and then but there are lots of other bulbed vegetables that can easily substitute it. The desert! It never exactly called to me, especially not after my first encounter with it blistered my lips and sunburned my face. It is certainly not my first pick even if it has "blossomed like a rose." And who ever said that God was a cowboy? That he created wide open spaces from the very start? This is clearly erroneous as we can hardly imagine the Garden of Eden as a wide open space, with its abundant produce growing at every which way, if God lives anywhere it certainly is not Wyoming! It is clearly my beloved Washington where he dwells- in the mystical mountain tops of the cascades, in her clear rivers where the salmon swim free, in the Seattle cityscape where the man-made metropolis meshes beautifully with mother nature- that is where God dwells.

So, when I applied to both Provo and Rexburg during my mission, I wasn't exactly looking forward to either one, however the subsidized costs and the undeniable goodness of an all LDS environment I could not resist, and so I went ahead. However, I did not write the required essays for the applications as I desired to focus on my missionary work, and my GPA was a little less than favorable, it was no surprise that BYU Provo denied my entrance and that BYU-I happily accepted me, even allowing me to enter immediately as a  returned missionary.  I studied out my option and prayed about it and received a clear answer that BYU-I was indeed the place for me to go. No battles a good battle that is won against the Lord, so I packed my bags, and prepared.

Brigham Young said "We have been kicked out of the frying-pan into the fire, out of the fire into the middle of the floor." Here I am, in the middle of the floor- and now? And now I am going to love it.  He closes: "and here we are and here we will stay." Here I am and here I will stay.

There is much to be learned in this world, and even more to see; I hope to brighten my view of the mid-west, and increase my respect for small towns. I hope to learn all that I can and do what I can to help others. All the while I will be loving Rexgurg.