Turning and Tossing

In the process of scanning papers with iPhone all week, I did a lot of turning (flipping) through pages and tossing into trash and my recycling bin.  I set aside some of Kay’s childhood treasures for her historian sister to archive, and a few for our kids to show their children before they discard the papers, etc. 

In another process of trying to get comfortable in bed last night, I turned and tossed to sleep.  It reminded me that life this year is encouraging frequent change ... hopefully not forcing it.  Changing a common phrase to “turn and toss” is an inconsequential example I use.

Think of something that changed this month.  Does it leave you turning and tossing for the better?  I pray it will be so for family, nation, and our world.  And I gratefully hold onto truth and gospel principles that never change.  Recall my sweetheart’s love of lighthouses that guide to safe harbor.

First 90 Days

The first quarter of 2021 has 90 days (one less than Q1 last year).  For me, I think it may largely determine the course of the remaining 275 days.  How is that?

With the first month almost gone, “as time goes by” (Casablanca 1942), what do the first 90 days look like to you?  Are we making progress?  (Pausing here for thought at Colonial Court.)

While getting excited about the future, last week I was mainly drinking in the past.  Thankfully, my sweetheart Kay saved papers from her childhood (Avenues SLC) and teenage years (Vancouver BC).  Scanning (digitizing) them with iPhone and light box brought me endless joy and occasional tears.  A friend asked, “What does that have to do with packing for the move?”  My simple explanation: lightening my load.  I could have added, “The world will always welcome lovers ...”

Oh yes, we know how that is.

Notes for Ned

This one is for me, albeit the world is welcome here and in Ogden, Utah.   Some may perchance see my blog without my usual prompt.  I never know.

Time-off Tuesday, working at home alone (never really alone) is a weekly luxury I granted myself several months ago.  It is a welcome gift for an older man who sometimes feels overwhelmed.  I have several friends who don’t enjoy being alone — some “can’t stand it.”  Puzzling and sad when I hear it.

This day is exceptionally fun and productive, as I scan family history treasures saved by my wife Kay since her childhood.  She makes me smile — sometimes with tears of love.  It’s a Tuesday with Kay.

My light box and iPhone work well together for digitizing all kinds of material to be shared and discarded after photos are backed up.  All part of lightening my load before I pass —  always on my mind, so the physical burden isn’t passed to our children.  Digital hoarding, as Kay & I jokingly call it, is my proven means of letting go of stuff like what others may tend to keep for posterity to donate, dump, or pass on.  (“Someday this will all be yours,” says the comic dad showing his packed storage unit to his sad son.  Makes our sons and me laugh.)

What will I take with me when I move in a few months?  What will I leave behind when I pass?  I hope to make the move by myself and leave people with happy memories of one who serves and loves them unconditionally.

Baby Steps to Chocolate

Several (maybe all five) of our children learned to walk by taking brave baby steps with the encouragement of chocolate held by Mama Kay a few feet away.  Irresistible (“attractive and tempting “).  It was our fun, proven method for motivating babies to take those first steps.

As an adult, I sometimes use “baby steps” to get myself through challenging projects like planning, shopping, wrapping, packaging, labeling, love-note writing, and mailing gifts.  (Naturally, Kay was always the leader for that, while I was good at driving to the post office.)  When done, I can reward myself with dark chocolate (the healthy kind).

What is your personal or family history of baby steps?

Moving Plan: One Man

Before most major moves, I liked to review this favorite book: Walden, which always helped me prepare and focus on essentials.

“Our life is frittered away by detail ...  Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let our affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred ... Simplify, simplify!”

Henry David Thoreau, Walden

— goodreads.com

A month ago, I made a short list of “essentials”.  (Turned out to be a long list that would horrify Thoreau.)  For example, my 2002 Winter Olympics boots still bring me joy about once a year and may be passed on to grandchildren, regardless of “global warming”.

Fortunately, I am forever free of couches, sofas, big beds, dressers, entertainment centers, bookshelves, and curio cabinets.  In 2017, my wife Kay & I sold and donated all of that to prepare for a mission.  I will move my few things by myself — a one-man job without help from the quorum and Relief Society.  (Since October 2018, my companion is free to work on the other side ... with love.)

By the way, what’s the difference ...  “Chances are, you’ve been using [the words] sofa and couch interchangeably for years without thinking twice about whether or not they’re the same.”  Historically they are different, but designers now dismiss that for marketing.  So, use the word you prefer, like “soda” or “pop”.  

— Kelsey Mulvey 7/11/2018, apartmenttherapy.com

What will my next dream home (studio apartment) look like?  The open house will simply show it all (like my “holiday open house” did 11/16/2019) ... possibly with a virtual tour.

Moving History

The pioneer trek from Nauvoo Illinois to the Great Salt Lake Valley was an epic move involving my Cannon and Rich ancestors.  The written history is very moving, bringing me to tears.  The move took faith, courage, and endurance to the end.

It would be interesting to read accounts of my young parents’ moves to San Francisco (WWII upstairs apartment), Salt Lake City (duplex by his parents — my first home), 2nd-Avenue remodeled home (huge back yard for my 4th-14th years), two large Northcrest-Drive homes (SLC upper Avenues), and Canyon Road Towers (123 2nd Ave).  Sadly, there are no written records or photos of those moves, as far as I know; they could also move me to tears. 

Skipping some history, I will never forget moving our three sons from H Street SLC to East Mill Creek across town for a big back yard and the best neighbors our age.  That’s when Kay & I learned the hardest part of moving is the last ten percent.  “When will it end!”

Anticipating my next move in three months, as most residents here at Colonial Court Apartments must eventually do for the two-year total renovation, I will photograph, lighten my load, then simply do it myself.  A little nostalgia, but no tears.  Having thought I’d never have to move again, I am back in touch with reality, preparing for another exciting move and new friends.  Do you keep a moving family history?

Happy Day!

Can you remember a new year that was needed more than this?  And do we call it “twenty twenty-one” or “two thousand twenty-one”?  Regardless, this is a happy day for many of us!

Among other good things, I did three today: missed an early-morning call so I could sleep late, jumped through hoops to cancel my Adobe plan (not needed), and held an impromptu neighbors party with a sweet friend’s assistance.

A favorite rhapsody on Classical 89 this afternoon inspired an image of Sweetheart Kay by my side at symphony hall in Salt Lake City.  We were in the moment together.  Memories of concerts we enjoyed brought tears of love.  I recommend it ... (love, that is).

Being in a happy place in life with cheerful family and friends, I started the new year with a joyful day.  Expect happy days ahead!