Talking to Strangers

As a teenager in Vancouver BC for three years, my wife Kay developed a talent for talking to strangers.  With her outgoing, vivacious personality, she quickly made friends of all ages.  Some have kept in touch, never to forget her unselfish kindness.

Recently we were driving through the Daybreak 55+ community in Salt Lake Valley, when Kay spotted a “young” couple our age out for a walk with a dog.  Naturally we stopped so she could ask them, “Do you live here?”  (I am never surprised by her freedom from shyness when something’s on her mind, which in this case was looking at homes for sale.)  As we introduced ourselves, the man said he enjoyed working with Hal Cannon in video production; (I remembered his Deseret String Band.)  Next minute, the couple invited us to see their home that was listed on the market; (they had just held an open house.)  They made us feel welcome, and did a nicer presentation than any realtor would have done.  The home was staged simply but beautifully, reminding me of Better Homes & Gardens.  My favorite feature was the batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies generously displayed on the kitchen island.  Kay and the other young woman warmly chatted as if they had established a lasting friendship.  The man cordially answered my questions about the property; I just wanted the facts.

We began Kay’s short spring break with a weekend trip to Iosepa (deserted Hawaiian settlement), Bonneville Salt Flats (Speedway), and historic (WWII) Wendover Air Base.  Yesterday we attended the Wendover branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Between sessions, Kay had a great time talking to strangers, easily learning all there is to know about the area.  One brother in the Civil Air Patrol told us about the airfield museum nearby, so we enjoyed visiting it after church.  The female docent there was nice and helpful, but did not open up to Kay – probably her modus operandi for dealing with the public on the job.  It was OK – I don’t expect everyone to respond unreservedly to an extraordinary, fascinating stranger like Kay.

Rough Draft

I really did not feel like writing this morning, so I thought a rough draft would do; let’s see where this takes me.  (Google defines draft: "a preliminary version of a piece of writing.")  First of all, a request to the reader: You can mark my words (errors), but don’t be too critical of this first draft.  It’s rough, I know.  For me, the initial draft is the hardest part.  The second and third versions come easier.

Judging from what I've seen and herd, a surprising number of high scool English students never get past the rough-draft phase; some writing is unbeleivably rough.  (Maybe it ain't so surprising after all, if you know the trend.)  For example, poorly developed essays full of errers and bad sentense construction get marked red threwout (by my favorite teacher) and that is often the end of it – the standard second chance for an improved grade fails to motivate more than a few to spend additionel time and effert cleaning up there little act.  Simpel suggestions and obvious corections are thus ignord, often never seen, possibly in favor of comunity service, internships, math and science, or other pursutes young people focus on these days to improve life.  
(I shouldn't be a sad cynic, but I got it off my chest – so there.)

Ray Bradbury, author of Fahrenheit 451, wrote an autobiographical book that I had fun reading: Zen in the Art of Writing, about “releasing the creative genius within you” (©1990).  Although I dug deep and found little genius to release, I was inspired to work harder, as he habitually did, eventually gaining his fame as a great writer (certainly not my goal.)

About doing the hard work, Bradbury impressed me: “I wrote at least a thousand words a day every day from the age of twelve on.  …  I began to discover the treats and tricks that came with word association …”  (Zen …, paperback, p. 15)  

“My first decision about a career was at eleven, to be a magician and travel the world with my illusions.  My second decision was at twelve when I got a toy typewriter for Christmas.  And I decided to become a writer.  And between the decision and the reality lay eight years of … school, and selling newspapers … [in L.A.], while I wrote three million words.”  (Zen …, A Closing Note, p. 48)

Although I cannot find it in Bradbury's book, I recall reading this advice recently: 
Cruise through the rough draft, without corrections, to let your creativity run free; then go back, correct the spelling, and refine your writing for the second draft.  Repeat that for subsequent drafts until it’s as good as it gets (to put it roughly.)

Personal journals are typically rough drafts, especially when handwritten.  You are free to write and release the genius within you.  Do it for posterity, or at least for the fun of it.

I have been reading a 75-cent book from DI.  You know the plight of this Jewish family.  (Nazi-occupied Amsterdam) “Saturday, 20 June, 1942 – … I want this diary itself to be my friend, and I shall call my friend Kitty.”  Beginning her writings to Kitty, Anne opens her heart, “I hope I shall be able to confide in you completely, as I have never been able to do in anyone before, and I hope that you will be a great support and comfort to me.” (Anne Frank – The Diary of a Young Girl, ©1952 by Otto H. Frank.)  I already know how her story ends, making me cry.

Daylight-Saving Gain/Loss

My eyes were opened to a different way of looking at Daylight Saving Time.  Last Saturday night, as DST was to begin a few hours later, I complained to Kay that we were about to lose an hour.  Trying to give me a hard time, she explained that, on the contrary, we would GAIN an hour when we “spring forward” and ADD one hour to our watches, and Verizon adds an hour to our iPhones automatically.  So it depends on how you look at it!  Oh boy – what a revelation.

On the other hand, imagine being born March 8th and losing an hour the next day, and not gaining it back until you started crawling six months later? As a newborn, maybe a "morning person", would you want to lose an hour of glorious daylight at the dawn of day, so you could gain an hour of glaring sunshine in the evening when ready for bed?  That may put DST into perspective.  (Are the folks in Arizona lucky or what?)

Trying to illustrate my view Saturday night, I proposed, “What if DST began in the middle of our three-hour block of meetings at church, and suddenly we were compelled to leave after only one or two hours?”  I knew that would make it perfectly clear … but how would my wife handle the loss?

Uncommon CORE

Remember studying classic literature, music and art?  … getting educated, not just passing tests?   Then you probably read something by Shakespeare or Nelle Harper Lee.

“My love is thine to teach: teach it but how,

And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn

Any hard lesson that may do thee good.”

– William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, (comedy; Don Pedro to Claudio; quoted by shakespeare.mit.edu)

"The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience."  
– Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird (novel; Atticus Finch in Maycomb; quoted by goodreads.com)

I digress with acronym and initialism, first reviewed 10/26/2010 in "Acronym, Initialism, Abbrev."  New examples, good versus bad (in my humble opinion.)

Google defines acronym: “an abbreviation formed from the initial letters of other words and pronounced as a word.”

G defines initialism: “an abbreviation consisting of initial letters pronounced separately.”  (I prefer this over the old, maybe outdated, broader definition which encompasses acronyms.)

The CORE (Class Of Real Education) will face extinction under government control ... unless we reverse the trend in our public school system.

What can I say?  It is now uncommon, versus CCSS (Common Core State Standards).

Just think about your favorite teachers in grade school.  Were they constantly dictated to, numerically evaluated, micromanaged and stifled, with their feet held to the fire?  If so, how did they rise above it?

Be informed about Common Core and how it sets the stage for the next act and a new play.  When you see the marquee change, it may be too late.

It’s going down fast … food for thought. 

Parents, “teach your children well … know they love you.  …

Can't you see we must be free to

Teach your children what you believe in.”

[Song by Graham Nash, on the album Déjà Vu] "Teach Your Children" by Crosby Stills Nash & Young  [1970]  – stlyrics.com/songs [and Wikipedia]

My Three-story Hut

Looking back, it was the biggest, ugliest backyard structure one could imagine.  As I envisioned and built my three-story hut over several years, one story at a time, it became a boy’s play world to be envied.  Our backyard on 2nd Avenue (SLC) was second to none … behind an old home originally built by a pioneer, mostly torn down and rebuilt by my father.  It was like a field of dreams where I spent endless hours as a young boy working hard at having fun. 

The northeast section of the yard had little or no landscaping except a big apple tree at the north wall, shading a huge sandbox and tree house that Dad built for us kids.  An old log wall, probably built by a previous pioneer owner, separated this frontier from the lawn to the south, and was the beginning as a sturdy support for the hut.  (In one of Kay’s heavier albums we have a photo of my hut with a younger brother and me looking out of second-story windows above the “great wall”, and a sister riding the pony nearby … a future addition to this post.)

Built with old wood and nails saved from the original pioneer home, it was low-budget (more like no-budget) construction, free from power tools, building codes and inspectors … except maybe my father making sure it didn’t collapse on a child.  The third story was made of lighter-weight wood which could easily blow off in a high wind, but which reduced the risk of crushing the rooms below.

On the northwest section of our backyard was a pony house and fenced area for the … (you know it.)  In between the pony property and frontier was a big lawn where my friend Lassie roamed and did his thing which I was responsible for cleaning up every week.  One year we had a lamb using that pasture … more cleanup.  The southeast section was the asphalt raceway for our rugged tricycle and wagon to do wild, endless laps around a long flower bed and clothesline.  South of that was a big drive-through garage with wide back doors, perfect for delivering lumber, etc. for additions I helped Dad build on the back of the house as the family grew.

The way my hut was built makes me wonder – without a plan, using old materials full of cracks and holes, and nails that took time to straighten out by patiently hammering, sometimes hitting my fingers … what was I thinking?!  I won’t call it a metaphor for life; (Google defines as “a figure of speech …”).  Hopefully it didn’t set a haphazard (G defines as “lacking any obvious principle of organization”) pattern for my life, but a dream-come-true that gave me self-confidence and the joy of carefree fun.  Youth -- married life with children -- empty-nester … a wonderful three-story life that cannot be compared to my three-story hut.  However, I do need to reinforce that third story before a high wind hits.

RootsTech Valentines

The two complement each other.  A week after attending the family history event, I see a connection with today – RootsTech Conference (2/6-8) and Valentine’s Day, complementary in life’s work of extending love to family and friends. 

Watching demonstrations in the Salt Palace Expo Hall, and attending classes in grand ballrooms with standing room only, was like drinking from a fire hose.  Lots of new technology to learn, understand, and apply.  In retrospect, for me it was all about love for ancestors, family and friends.  I was in heaven!

A few pertinent samples from the expanded offering at RootsTech 2014:

Passing down memories of family to future generations – Sandra Crowley

Deciphering Old Handwriting Online – BYU’s Enhanced Paleography Website 

– Abbie Black and Amy Harris

Introducing the New FamilySearch Indexing Program – Scott Flinders, product mngr
Remembering Those Who Have Passed: Why Obituaries Are So Key – Curt Witcher

Learning How to Tune Your Ancestry.com Search – Anne Mitchell
Blogging to document family stories, memories, trials and triumphs – Julie McDonald

Organizing digital photos to enjoy, share, and preserve – Alison Taylor

Communicating discoveries to younger generations through social media – D. Joshua Taylor

In the movie First Knight (1995), Lancelot (Richard Gere) enters the great hall and reads the inscription on the Round Table: "In serving each other, we become free."  King Arthur (Sean Connery) adds, “That is the very heart of Camelot.”  If you’ve seen the film, forget all that’s questionable, and think about those whom you love and wish to serve.  And have a happy Saint Valentine’s, not just for one day!

My 40-year Secret

It's not like I tried to keep it a secret for 40 years.  You won't believe it till you try it a few times, but it works!

I learned this secret from a mission buddy, Kent Lambert, the best life insurance salesman for "the quiet company" (not so quiet now.)  It has consistently worked to simplify my life.  Through 40 years of using it without fail (except maybe once, out of compassion), I revealed it to only a few close friends.  Now I am sharing my secret with the world (I estimate three or four lucky enough to see this:)

When a salesperson attempts to start or close a sale,

you say, "I prefer not to."

When he/she asks why,

you reply, "I prefer not to say."

Salesperson is left speechless; a friendly farewell ensues.

Operate on a need-to-know basis; a sales rep doesn't need to know that you're broke, afraid, repulsed by him/her, or whatever.  If you say the usual "not interested", that means you don't yet have enough information to appreciate the incredible value of the product or service being offered; so it easily proceeds from there, following the manual.  The “prefer not” words may need to be kindly repeated for salespeople who are hard of hearing, forgetful or unbelieving, so be nice and repetitive (no extra words) as you make your answer perfectly clear and concise.  Try the secret next time you’re in a luxury-car showroom, for practice; (be honest – you ARE interested in the Ferrari.)  Incidentally, if you want to buy, just say yes.  No fear.

The language is fast.  It is food for thought if you do sales training; (trust me – "it ain't in the manual" – I’ve never met a salesperson who has a prepared response for it.)  You will have total confidence as you fearlessly meet salespeople and answer telemarketing calls, knowing YOU are in control. By the way, since learning the secret, I have generally loved to be a part of good salesmanship at work, and have gained a wealth of knowledge from those professionals, whom I respect.  For their fine companies and shareholders, it is value-added work.  For me, it’s free education without trepidation.

There you have it.  Of course, always follow the Scout Law (seriously):

“A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, COURTEOUS, kind, obedient, CHEERFUL, THRIFTY, BRAVE, clean, and reverent.”  – scouting.org  (all-caps for my emphasis)