Random Reading

For my history, I had planned to publish in 2024 a selection of my blog posts.  Miraculously, publication of my wife’s biography, the extraordinary history of Kay Hinckley Cannon, became a reality and blessing instead.  In November 2025, I finally published my “random memoir” as planned.

Although careful thought and effort went into each post “back in the day”,  I confess to choosing a lazy-man way of writing my disjointed personal history, avoiding the more thorough, chronological form typically used near the end of one’s life.  A simple timeline is my token effort in that regard.

At this year end, our Kay deserves to have the last word: “Live every day to its fullest. Be adventurous; act on good impressions. Follow the Prophet with love for the Lord.”  And she would cheerily sing a lullaby, “Remember Me.”

Mudroom Memories

Recalling one word (like bedroom & bathroom).

On Second Avenue, Salt Lake City, the east side door, entry from breezeway between the house and garage, led to our regular way through the mudroom to the basement stairway door and (what is now called) the great room — family dining room and kitchen.  (A simple architectural sketch would have helped here.)  Coats were hung and boots were removed; Lassie’s meals were prepared.

Our remodeled home in East Mill Creek, SLC, had the most memorable mudroom — designed and built by my father-in-law.  The entrance by the garage led to a large, white-painted room with an island of specious closets for hanging coats, etc.  It was the perfect place for the washer, dryer, and wall-mounted ironing board (cabinet) by the inner door.  The far side with a door to the garage had a work counter with shelves above it.  That became an office space for me — a challenge to keep it organized and materially minimized.  Friends still remember being impressed by that large mudroom.  It surpassed the design we had an architect draw for the home we fortunately did not build in Mountain Green, Utah.  (Recall the Great Recession, 2007-2009.)

Memories of family life in those and other mudrooms prompt recollections relating to family history we treasure.  What are your mudroom memories?

Inside Voices

A sign in the Pleasant Valley Library kids area got my attention two weeks ago (of course I took a picture). “Be kind. Use inside voices, play safe, and make the library fun for everyone.”  I welcomed the reminder to subdue (American English quiet, British quieten) talk when visiting a library.  I learned it in my youth at the old library in downtown Salt Lake City, like a sacred space.  Now I practice it in my old age as I frequently visit the main library on Jefferson Ave in Ogden Utah.  Naturally my wife Kay’s angelic voice would be welcome anywhere.  “(of a person) exceptionally beautiful, innocent, or kind”  — definition from Oxford Languages 

Patrons in temples are encouraged to use reverent, “inside voices” appropriate for that sacred space; whispering is sweet.  A UTA recording routinely reminds FrontRunner riders to keep conversation volume low in that “shared space.”  It would also be nice to remember restaurants, theaters, and symphony concert auditoriums are shared with some folks with sensitive hearing like mine (impossible to avoid eavesdropping).  On the other hand, young voices I hear inside public places like the new Marshall N. White Community Center (sport courts, pool, party rooms) are good to hear at high volume.

The world we live in together — it’s small, after all.

Winter Warmth

Up in the night, warmed by my favorite patchwork quilt with yellow highlights. My first thought, “Tuesday with Kay”, always makes me smile.

Memories in a warm stream of consciousness. A time for celebrating the newborn Child wrapped in swaddling clothes and held by His loving mother. Now the warmth of love Jesus offers us.

Winter get-togethers for family and friends needing a warm hug.  Hot cocoa, chocolate chip cookies soft from the oven, and Kay’s famous spiced wassail drink.   The wood-burning stove on a brick “stage” in our cozy antique room in East Mill Creek.

A favorite sweater received on Christmas Day. Keeping warm while caroling at neighbors’ front doors.

Our first daughter, born in mid-winter, who warmed the hearts of three brothers, two parents, and four grandparents.  (“My caregiver”, I call her now, with love.)

Expecting another January thaw with sunshine like last year.  Come February, budding thoughts of spring, renewed life, and fresh starts.

For now, with winter warmth, we can all do something to help Light the World.

Quiet Time

Not the app or amazing AI Overview result anyone can see for complete descriptions.  

This is more like personal history. 

My view of quiet time:

Curling up in bed with a good book. 

Using the mute button for TV commercials.

Listening to a classical second movement (adagio) with headphones. 

Remembering my companion, Kay.

Strolling on sand by surf at Cannon Beach.

Writing.

Using ear protectors when neighbor dogs are constantly barking while owners are away.

Browsing books at the public library.

Eating ice cream and drinking hot chocolate.

Walking on the Ogden River Parkway Trail.

Praying and studying scriptures. 

What is your quiet experience?

(Puzzling?  Walking the dog?  Sleeping?)

Light the World

The initiative launched in December 2016, and has grown exponentially worldwide since then, including the Giving Machines.  

How can you Light the World this Christmas season?

Collectible Comments

“Aren’t pets just the sweetest things?”  — CRC artistic director, watching a cat video she likes

“Save those Veggie Straws for breakfast. Eat a real dinner.”  — Curt D, NOMAS leader, Ogden Utah

“11/11 is a powerful day!”  — the Internet

“If you aren’t sharing the Universe with someone, it’s a waste of space.”  — Ms. Young, our friend

"Don't manage time. Manage yourself."  

— David Beardsley, writer

“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”  — Mahatma Gandhi