The fire burns warm in the almost pot-belly stove. The bench near by- vacated. Lon reads the Funnies in a suit and tie, jacket removed, and cuffs rolled up. Last night I interviewed John Chesley on that bench. He sat awkwardly before my camera, revealing his inner feelings and telling stories of his relationship with Jackie Monson that brought him to this day- the red dot blinking- to the day of his marriage.

Now, the marriage is nearly done, only the reception remains. The lunch was exquisite. The mood divine. The sealer stumbly, yet accurate and spiritual. At the end of the ceremony, they were asked to rise, the bride and the groom. They stood, and looked before themselves into eternity, between two mirrors. In the mirror before them, their images reflected endlessly, as it was tossed back and forth between the two. A representation of the generations without end that would come as a result of their covenants. They turned, and in the mirror behind them reflected again endlessly their images. A representation of those who had come before, their ancestors, Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, and all who paved the way. And in the middle, stood them, two children in adult clothing, a beautiful gown and handsome suit. Children.

Yet children of God. Their potential roared as the silence around them listened.

Wealth disparity, flat, or even regressive taxes, seem to be commonly supported by many of the mormons, with whom I deal.

Robin Hood and his merry man now march on France and much of Europe. Germany approves. And Italy is already implementing.

"A tiny levy on trades in the financial markets that would take money from the banks and give it to the world’s poor" is the proposition. They call it the Robin Hood tax.

The 99 percent continue to protest in cities across America. A third of our nations wealth is still held by the 1 percent.

The Obama administration remains reluctant to support such a tax however for fear that it will drive away business.

My question here is- in times of such inequality and disparity, how can we as Christians support such a thing as wealth inequality?

I have no grand political arguments. I'm not a mastermind economist and I don't pretend to understand theoretic mathematical concepts. I offer no persuading numbers.

All I say is this-

 There is a closed door.
A person comes and opens that door.
The person walks through.

In this simple example, are we to imagine that the only person involved in opening that door was the person that did the deed of opening?

Nay.

Surely the carpenter who crafted the door should have some credit, for without him there would be no door to be opened. And the custodian? did he not make sure the hinges were properly greased so as to be easily opened? And who told the person the location of the door? Should we imagine that they found it all by themselves? And what of that persons parents? Did they not raise them, and nourish them to be strong enough to open the door? Did they not teach them how to turn the knob and get on through?

And so it is with money. It is narrow minded and foolish to say that I have all of my money because of myself and all of my hard work.

Now I'm not talking about welfare, and government handouts, and such nonsense systems that stunt the growth of a countries citizens. And I realize that mormons are one of the top donating demographics for philanthropies and such.

But what I'm getting at is that we should not assume that what is ours is really ours. We should get through that door and say -Ahha! I made it- and close the door on all the other people behind you. To do so would be ungrateful and, in our terms faithless.

I try to remember that we're all in this together and that not a penny of mine is a penny of mine.

Pomegranate Sorbet

I created pomegranate sorbet. Two fresh pomegranates. Hand sqoozed. One half of a lemon. Hand squozen. Pure cane sugar. Frigid water. Mixed all into the White Mountain ice cream freezer. Meredith, the Goddess of my heart, stirred. I, the master of my heart, churned. More ice was added. Post beef wellington, thinly sliced potatoes toasted crispy, and pleasantly sauteed green beans, we enjoyed the paleteous sensations of fresh pomegranate and lemon frozen goodness. It was aromatic. It was sweet, powerful, strong. It was nearly unbelievable. It was choice. 

Someone may have toppled over upon tasting the art of its confection, I, however, did not. I smiled blissfully, fully aware of the loved ones around me that shared its joy with me. 

And then we were off to the Yule Ball.

So, I haven't for quite some time. Yes. Thats true. In part I've been waiting for I-COMM to get their blogs up and running, because I rather wanted to write for them. But I got tired of waiting so I started writing. And here you have it: a column for the scroll for next week.

Snow's starting to fall, but things are starting to get hot, and I don't know about you, but I need to be heard. And I hope you do to. So,

Sing out, cry out, let it ring out, however you choose to do it. 

Ill-prepared

5 June 1976. “All we had for dinner was bread as we watched the flood waters roll in from our camper atop the hill,” recollected Bruce Eckman, former owner of Rexburg Food Storage. “Our first meal was up on campus in the cafeteria: bouillon soup and sea biscuits.” 

Eckman was 18 when the Teton Dam broke and 80 billion gallons of water came pouring through the Teton River canyon. He doesn’t remember where the food came from but was grateful for it. His father taught in the Austin building at the time, and for what seemed like two months, he and his family slept on top of the podium in the classroom, victims of the Teton Flood. 13,000 cattle deceased, 11 people dead , $2 billion of damage caused. The blessing? School was out of session- few students were on campus during the summer. 

Now, school is in session in the summer and the student population is effectively one half of the city’s total population, and those students are ill-prepared, un-aware, and non-caring towards emergency preparation.

Another flood isn’t likely to wipe out Rexburg, as the locals aren’t keen on the idea of a new dam, but many other potential disasters threaten the area, our homes, and our lives. 

Droughts, wind storms, earthquakes, and fires; from the more mild- a hot day- to the more extreme- the explosion of  the Yellowstone Caldera super-volcano, or trouble at the Idaho National Laboratory- to the most likely-severe winter weather- all challenge your life. Campus, Church, and government officials are all doing their part to prepare, but many students rely on a pillow for a crutch and find comfort in myths of others’ benevolent preparation. 

On campus the University Emergency Council oversees precautions. Compiled of four branches- operations, planning, logistics, and administration- it certifies that students and employees will be safe during emergencies. Electronic sensors and systems allow two-thirds of campus to lock-down at any moment. Campus blue-phones and the text-messaging web facilitate mass communication though out campus and to individual students. A rotated meal supply housed on campus provides nourishment for 72 hours to one-week. Government officials will administer the first nation-wide test of the Emergency Alert System over radio, TV, and cable channels. Nearly 300,000 people died in more than 350 natural disasters in 2010, the deadliest year in the last quarter century. The Church helped victims in 58 countries last year, responded to 119 disasters and provided millions of dollars in emergency aid, according to Newsroom. The campus is astute, the government is ready, and the Church is prepared, and you are playing angry birds. 

I wager that the average BYU-I student’s food storage consists of little more than a Hot-and-Sweaty cooling off in the fridge, and a few cans of green beans waiting to be purchased at the case lot sale. I don’t expect us to build a fortress in the mountains with enough food and ammunition to last a decade, but I do find it prudent to heed the Lord’s advice to be prepared and  self-reliant. As Eckman noted, the most likely disaster isn’t some epic out of Hollywood, but its the loss of a job, a surprising health issue, or rising financial turmoil. Things that happen everyday. 


"If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear." D&C 38:3.

And the best part is: if ye are prepared, you will be empowered to offer a helping hand, to be someone’s angel in their time of need. Prepare yourself.

A Note For Sunday

Inspired, I explained that obedience is not about not doing the wrong thing, but more about actively doing the right thing.  We needn't worry soo much about avoiding the bad, as we should about pursuing the good. I challenged all of us in the Gospel Principles class to apply our lesson on the Life of Christ by asking ourselves not what Jesus wouldn't do, but what he would do, and then do it.

In my life I often feel that this is one of the best questions that I can ask myself in any situation. It is inspired as it seeks action, not passive knowledge. It keeps in mind that sin is not only doing what is wrong or rebelling against the law of God, but, perhaps more commonly, failure to do that which is good.

Next time we come to a moral question, let us not ask if it is wrong, but let us ask if it is right.

What would Jesus do?

Loving Austin

Eh, Why not love Austin too?

They call it dirty sixth. Or at least I think they do. All I know is that it is dirty, and it is sixth street. And I danced with a large drunk black woman in the 311 Blues Bar and she was black and drunk and large. My Girl tangled with smoke and tobacco as it rolled out of the speakers and drifted away from its creators on stage. I was a little startled by the woman's agility as we danced, so I tried to dip her on the last- she didn't fall over. The music drifted out past giggling friends and spectators and into the open street- Sixth Street. Four or five blocks were closed to automobiles, allowing pedestrians to roam freely. Women in uncomfortably high heels and indecently short skirts flaunted themselves amongst underdressed men and overly invasive street performers.

Inside the 311 Blues Bar. My lady in red is at the table.

i can't say the club is exactly my thing, however much I like to get my crazy white boy on. So I split my separate route as some of my friends went into the club with the glass floor and later told me that the roof opened up too. I drifted down stream with the music and photographed some guitarists and artists and such, and clapped along with some folk singing with soul. I hooted and howled until I could tell they had had enough of me. I feel I found my place with some nice hippie folk: Happy Happy James and Kim.

Happy James squatted next to his portable drum kit and told me that Austin officials had banned live music outside of clubs after 2230hrs: bad words "and they call Austin the capital of live music!" he exclaimed as we watched his wife, the love of his life dance the hula hoops. He wore his wedding ring with pride. He told me to go to Barton Springs.

Happy Happy James' wife. Proudly.

Kim was next. She drew on the sidewalk. And drew and drew andrew. I watched until we talked. And talked and talked andtalked. She lived in a nice house, a couple hundred a night drawing famous people portraits on the sidewalk with chalk. She had a nose ring and crazy socks and excepted a cigarette when someone gave it to her even though she doesn't "usually smoke". I don't either. She was a nice person and wanted to get big like this other guy. She told me to go to Barton Springs.

Kim and Alfred Hitchcock. It was his birthday.

Long story short. It made me ask myself: why do I desire to willingly subject myself to the capitalist system? Getting paid for less than I am worth, earning less than I work and making a fortune for he who owns the means of production? "Why don't I just go and be free" I said tonight, while I finished my pint of Southern Blackberry Cobbler in a dimly lit kitchen. "Why don't I just be free!? That's what I really want!" I said. Is it? Is that what we all want? Or do we want to be burdened by responsibility and play a respectable role in society? I want to play a respectable role in society to change it for the better and help everyone else out. Or least that's what I tell myself. Maybe I really just want to  go hop on cart 36 with Brother Man Dan.