Who can I trust?

Here is something I wrote in September of 2016, that I feel is pertinent now:

Yesterday morning I woke up and glanced at the clock and thought I saw that it was 5:30 a.m. I did not want to be up that early, but I was awake, so I got up. (I realized, after an hour on the computer, that I’d actually gotten up at 3:30.) Everyone else was asleep, so I went to look at facebook where I was bombarded with political memes and the bickering that always follows them. As I read, I suddenly thought of Joseph Smith’s history. It struck me that his words—with a few changes (from religion to politics)—were very applicable here:

For, notwithstanding the patriotism which the voters for these different candidates expressed at the state primaries, and the great zeal manifested by the respective parties, who were active in getting up and promoting this extraordinary scene of political feeling, in order to have everybody vote, as they were pleased to call it, let them join what party they pleased; yet when the voters began to file off, some to one party and some to another, it was seen that the seemingly good feelings of both the candidates and the voters were more pretended than real; for a scene of great confusion and bad feeling ensued—politician contending against politician, and voter against voter; so that all their good feelings one for another, if they ever had any, were entirely lost in a strife of words and a contest about opinions.

During this time of great excitement my mind was called up to serious reflection and great uneasiness; but though my feelings were deep and often troubled, still I kept myself aloof from all these parties, though I followed their several campaigns as often as occasion would permit. In process of time my mind became somewhat partial to a third party, and I felt some desire to be united with them; but so great were the confusion and strife among the different parties, that it was impossible for a person such as I was, and so unacquainted with men and politics, to come to any certain conclusion who was right and who was wrong.

My mind at times was greatly excited, the cry and tumult were so great and incessant. The Democrats were most decided against the Republicans and Libertarians, and used all the powers of both reason and sophistry to prove their errors, or, at least, to make the people think they were in error. On the other hand, the Republicans and third-parties in their turn were equally zealous in endeavoring to establish their own tenets and disprove all others.

In the midst of this war of words and tumult of opinions, I often said to myself: What is to be done? Who of all these parties are right; or, are they all wrong together? If any one of them be right, which is it, and how shall I know it?

As I said, I wrote that in September of 2016.

Today, February 23, 2020, with the whole political and election season hard upon us again (if the craziness ever really did die down from the last time) I’ll add these quotes by President Russell M. Nelson:

“You don’t have to wonder about what is true. You do not have to wonder whom you can safely trust.”

“If we will truly receive the Holy Ghost and learn to discern and understand His promptings, we will be guided in matters large and small.”

This time of politics is wearisome enough, with all of the mud-slinging that goes on. Let’s not add to it by bickering on facebook. This is not the place for debate, because without body language, vocal inflection, and facial expressions to help out, it’s difficult to tell whether you’re engaged in a “friendly discussion” or a bout of verbal fisticuffs. By all means get together with your friends and family, face to face, on both sides of any issue, and discuss it like you are friends and want to stay friends—please do! But let’s be above the fight.

And as you work on making a decision, remember who you can really trust.

  

The difference between my mom and my dad

I love my mom. She is a great person—funny, generous, and smart.

I love my dad. He is a great person too—witty, intelligent, and kind.  

Mom and Dad were alike in the important things—shared beliefs and values; hard workers; loving; good parents; great people. But they were also very different from each other. Here are a couple of illustrations for you:

This picture was taken of Mom at work,
about ten years before this story happened.

1.  Bruce and I started dating about a year after I got my driver's license. He was surprised that I couldn't drive a standard transmission car. Well, I'd never had to drive one; I always drove my mom's automatic. But when he said he'd teach me, I thought it would be pretty cool to learn, to have my boyfriend teach me, and to be the only girl in my family who drove a stick-shift.

So Bruce taught me to drive a stick, mostly in my dad's Ford Ranger, and I did really well! So well, in fact, that I was confident to drive it all by myself one day. I don't remember where my mom's Subaru was for the day—maybe out for a repair, maybe my dad had it; I don't know. But one afternoon only the truck was around, and I wanted to go hang out with Bruce at his house for a while. So I told Paul, that I could get Mom from work that evening if I could take the truck over to Bruce's house. (Paul was supposed to pick Mom up.) And I drove that truck right on over to go see Bruce. Perfectly smooth. No jerking starts or stops, just smooth sailing all the way there. Bruce was proud of me! Then, just before 5:00 I drove over to my mom's office to pick her up; again, it was a smooth ride. I felt pretty awesome. And wouldn't Mom be surprised to see that I had come to get her in the truck all by myself?

Oh, she was surprised all right! Not surprised like, "Wow! Look at you, driving the truck!" but more like, "What in the world are you doing driving Dad's truck?!" and, "I hope we make it home in one piece!"

Well, I was instantly nervous. And it was rush hour, stop and go traffic all the way home. And I killed that darn truck every time I had to stop, and had a hard time starting it up again every single time, and Mom kept up an anxious, worried scolding the entire drive. To make things worse, our bishop had been behind us the entire way, and that weekend he laughingly told my mom that he was sure whoever was driving that truck had stripped all the gears. Which she then told me as proof that I should not be driving the truck. And I never did again.

This picture was probably taken pretty close
to the time these stories took place.

2.  On the day I registered for my senior year in high school—while I was at the school, actually—my dad had driven the motorcycle to work and was in an accident. He broke his ankle pretty badly. I don't remember if he just had to stay home for a long time, or if he was just home this day, or what. But anyway Dad was home, and I was home (hm... it must have been before school actually started back up, then)... and he needed to stop at his workplace for something. I had driven Mom to work (in the automatic transmission Subaru), so Dad asked me to take him to work, and I did, and of course made it there without incident.

On the way back home we were driving down the freeway, which was wide open and empty... except for the car that was directly in my blind spot. So we're flying along at 55mph, Dad's reclined in the passenger seat, and I need to move left so that I won't be in the exit lane. And I didn't see the one. single. other car on the entire freeway for miles. Now, this guy could have moved into the next lane over as he honked his horn at me, and he could have flipped me off, and sworn at me, but he didn't. He just laid on his horn and stayed right where he was. I, on the other hand, had a near heart-attack, and over-corrected, yanking the steering wheel hard to the right. And as I'm racing toward the freeway barrier, I freak out again and yank the wheel hard to the left, making a swooping, speeding arc toward the left barrier. Once again I pull the wheel to the right, braking this time, and shrieking out my best horror-movie, blood-curdling, "we're about to die" scream as we come to a stop about a foot away from the right-side barrier. And after a second, Dad looks over at me and calmly says, "Did that scare you?"

And that is the difference between my mom and my dad. ♥

Odds & Ends

..or maybe Oddities & Ends

Just a few things I've noticed about myself...

I've been sick for the last couple of days, and I seem to have a morbid fascination with the way it makes me feel. First I had a fever—102.9 at the high point, although I have to wonder if this was because I was buried in blankets with the bed-warmer on...  And of course, fever means chills (hence the cocoon). This lasted a night and a day and a night. Today I'm mostly just tired.

But the weird thing is... well, two weird things: 1. Food tastes strange. I swear I could taste cinnamon in the home-made chicken noodle soup that had no cinnamon in it. Bleh.
2. I just feel wrung out. My body hurts, I'm super tired, and I'm shaky. Like I had a really long workout session. Which maybe I did.

But here is the odd thing: I'm not out for sympathy or anything. It's just that I catch myself really paying attention to the way these things feel, almost as if I were observing someone else who was sick. But, oh my goodness! I am so glad I don't feel this way when I see other people who are sick. (Could you imagine, in a household of ten people?!)

Well, Being sick is weird. That's one thing.

Here's the next thing I've observed:
I am sewing a costume and I'm putting in a lot of extra work that might not even be seen from the stage. But I have to do it. I am driven to do it. Because it will make me happy. Like Inigo Montoya wanting to fight "the man in black" left-handed, I can have no satisfaction if I don't do it this way.

And here's the third thing:
Whenever I am sewing a seam, the first pin I pull out of the fabric goes into my mouth and stays there until the seam is completely sewn. I never put more than one pin into my mouth; I never take that pin out until I'm finished. Every. Time. It is how I sew.

So, three idiosyncrasies. There's probably a lot more. A lot more. Do you ever observe yourself this way—as if from the outside, looking in?