Something to think about

Something to think about . . . an excerpt from Wired, March 2010, p. 060:

Hamlet, that lucky stiff, only had to worry about being or not being--what a nice, binary Denmark he lived in.  We modern mopes, on the other hand, must consider not only our too, too solid flesh but also our online infinitude:  From banking to book-buying, from Facebook pages to busty Warcraft avatars to scrupulously Tubblr'd "bucket lists," we leave our silicon snakeskins scattered from here to tim.buk.tu.  * * * Our local, carbon-based "hard drives" may fail, but vestiges of our inimitable selves will remain ambient and accessible long after we log off this mortal coil.  This distributed deathlessness means we'll all need a little cleanup on Aisle Me.  The aspects of life we archive online, be they valuable, heritable, or simply embarrassing, require posthumous management (and, in some cases, eradication) lest our friends and loved ones and executors be embarrassed or inconvenienced by our lingering digital detritus, a trash-strewn wake of left-behind liabilities.

Thought for the day

"I don't want to get to the end of my life

and find that I lived just the length of it. 

I want to have lived the width of it as well." 

 --Diane Ackerman, poet.

Walking Tour

For YW, thanks to the Mia Maids for planning and inviting us, we did a self-guided walking tour of St. G.  It was very interesting--I like that kind of stuff anyway.  We were also lucky enough to happen along just as the last tour of the day was starting at the BY home. (Here we are in front of the BY home, after our tour of that home.)  I loved the "feel" of the home, particularly the main floor with its high ceilings.   

Now it makes me want to see the rest of the town on some kind of walking tour since our tour route was only a fraction of the old buildings/houses in town. At some point in the year, they have actors posing as old time St. G residents during some kind of walking tour.  I have wanted to do that for years, too.  See, I do not even have to leave the county to see and learn new things.  :o)

Before we could leave town Tuesday night, I had to take these young ladies past the historic H. G. home.  It was not on our tour route, but ALL of us in this picture, except one leader, descend from him. It was a must to round out the evening. :o)

Fun baby shower!

Friday night, I went to a fun, fun baby shower for my niece C.  She's expecting a baby girl next month.  Her mother-in-law and sister-in-law put together a fun night for all of us.

Here is a picture of C with both of the "grandmothers"--my sister in the foreground and C's mother-in-law in the background.  C's baby received many nice things at the party.

Fun times ahead for C & her husband D! 

Young Women Recognition Evening

Tonight, we had a Young Women Recognition Evening.  Unfortunately, this is not a great shot and I will replace it if someone has a better one.  There were three young women (including my daughter L) receiving their medallion, one young woman receiving her Bee, and five adult women (including me) receiving their medallion.  I worked very hard to finish with L and I completed the program completely--not just in part like the leaders can do and I "came from behind" and hurried to catch up with these girls.  This culminates a lot of work on my part (whew!) and on the part of the whole group.  This group contains four mother/daughter duos who are being recognized together tonight. 

  

Here is L and our bishop.  Way to go, L!

This is the whole Mia Maid class (those who are active) and my first counselor being recognized together for earning their medallion or Bee.  The first counselor had issued a challenge to the Mia Maids to see if they could finish their personal progress before she did.  All of them finished this summer (and all but one of the girls finished before their leader).  I am so proud of every single one of them!

 

These are the adult recipients of the medallion who are posing with our bishop.  These include, left to right, my second counselor (and mother of one medallion recipient), the mother of the young woman who earned the Bee, yours truly (and mother of one medallion recipient), the stake Young Women President who happens to live in our ward, and her daughter who is my first counselor.  Excellent.

My one regret is I did not get a picture of L and me together (and now she's in the shower), and the one of us standing up in the group together is very poor.  Anyone with a better shot, please let me know.  Maybe I can crop a picture so she and I appear in one together.  Thanks.

That was then. This is now.

Back in February, my sister and I went to my cousin Jean's husband Kent's graveside in Springville, Utah.  Kent had suffered with poor health for years.  Jean, their girls, and probably hospice were the caregivers.

It was a bit stormy and cold that day.  Everyone huddled around the graveside seeking shelter from the dripping rain.  Kent's choice was a plain wood casket, made with no nails.  He wanted no services except the dedication of the grave, but their son Jeff gave a short and excellent eulogy.  Then the grave was dedicated.

The family gathered at the chapel for a luncheon.  I spoke with Jean and each of her children to give my condolences.  It was so nice to see them.  I visited with other relatives there and met some new people, too.  Here is Jean's family all gathered around her.  There was a lot of conversation and picture taking.  There was a respectful and stoic air to the gathering.  Kent had been released from a bed of pain and everyone seemed to understand that. 

Who knew what was ahead? That was then.

This is now.  This is deja vu. 

This week, my sister and I went to our cousin Jean's graveside in Springville, Utah. Same place.  Same overcast day.  Some drizzly rain.  Not so many coats and umbrellas.  Most of the same people.  Same family.  But new tears.

Same plain wood casket, made without nails, but this time it is Jean's casket and not Kent's. 

There was also an abbreviated service:  Jean's daughter K welcomed everyone and announced the order of the brief program; opening prayer by my cousin D . . .

a beautiful eulogy by Jean's daughter L, and a dedication of the grave by Jean's brother C. Kent's sister and her family had prepared a luncheon at the church and most everyone made their way there.  I think this food was the best I have ever had at a funeral luncheon.

Here are cousin C and her mother L.  They had to leave right after the graveside.  (Note the man in the suit behind Aunt Lucile. It is Kent's brother and when he arrived at Kent's graveside service last February, my sister leaned into me and quietly said, "My goodness!  Kent has come to his own graveside!"  I had had the same reaction upon seeing him.)

Here are the rest of the Nielson first cousins (minus C--don't know where he was right then.)   Clockwise starting at high noon :o) S, B, C, Patty and D.  Thanks to B's husband D for taking the picture. 

There was such an overlay of stunned sadness at this luncheon, maybe shock at doing this all again so soon.  Maybe it was emanating from me.  I hardly took pictures.  My heart was not in it this time.  I made it a priority to speak with each of Jean's children (except I somehow skipped Scott this time).  I could barely get my words out to offer sympathy to Jean's girls because I kept getting chocked up.  It just did not seem possible--hadn't we done this already? Shouldn't Jean be right here with us like last time? During the luncheon, I sat next to D. I do feel particularly sad for Jean's girls and for D because Jean's death will leave such a hole in their lives.

I made efforts to visit with others but it all seemed so surreal that I was not as talkative as I might usually have been.  And then it was all over, sooner than it seemed possible, and everyone was leaving. 

It is sad to see Jean go, particularly when it feels like she passed away too soon.  However, I also believe there is a reunion going on in heaven with all those who love Jean, such as Kent, her mother and father, our grandparents, and other relatives and friends, including my mother.  President Spencer W. Kimball said: "If we look . . . at mortality as the whole of existence, then pain, sorrow, failure and short life [are] calamity.  But if we look upon life as an eternal thing stretching far into the pre-earth past and on into the eternal post-death future, than all happenings may be put in proper perspective."  Good bye, Jean. Fare you well, 'til we meet again.  And give Mom a hug from me.

Year of the Funerals

I had been working on a pithy blog post about the deficiencies of the Golden Rule, and I may still get back to it, but I have abandoned it for now and will forge ahead with thoughts I have had lately. Also, I have been sick in bed with some crud the past few days so I am sure that colors my thoughts.  My thoughts have also been colored by my sorting work at my mother's house. 

For the last several weeks, I have been at work de-junking at my mother's house, this time in my dad's office.  I have spent about thirty-six hours in there lately, and I am not finished.  Just as an example, I spent ten hours on only two drawers.  Papers are the most time-consuming to sort, especially when I have to read through things to see if they should be kept or thrown away.  It is a very poignant project as I remember again and again all these loved ones who are gone.

One category of items I have come across are old letters to my father and from my father when he was away in the military during World War II.  Of course, I was not around then but I know all of the family members who are mentioned in the letters.  I do not read all the letters--there simply are not hours in the day for that.  I do read letters from people whose names I do not recognize to see whether their letters should be kept (usually not) and, occasionally, I will read a letter here or there from someone I do know.  You have no idea how many times I have had thoughts like this:  "I need to go visit Aunt Genevieve and ask her about this person/event."  "I think I will call Uncle Don and talk to him about his."  And so it goes as I am immersed in old letters and documents and I just completely forget that virtually all the people I am reading about are dead now.  I mean, I have not REALLY forgotten.  However, I just momentarily forget for just the slightest little instant because I am so caught up in the old letters and the old things from that long ago time. 

Another thing I often find myself doing is sending some kind of mental telepathy though time, "Grandpa, you will pass away in the few months.  Be aware!"  Or to my uncles or aunts who lost spouses during the war or who died during the war, I am sending out messages back in time: "You/your spouse will not live to see the end of the war!"  Of course, I know these messages are not going back in time and I do not speak the warnings aloud.  (Do not send the guys with the straight jackets!) But I cannot keep my thoughts from forming warnings.

I have also been thinking of the value of the written word, as opposed to the fragile and ephemeral quality of the electronic word.  If all these letters had been email, they would all be gone now, lost forever on some fried and obsolete hard drive.  And what should happen with these letters that have survived the test of time is a post for another day . . . perhaps.

Saturday, I attended another funeral for G.E.Stratton, a man I knew in Hurricane, and it was a very nice service.  All of his children spoke and all of them did a wonderful job paying tribute to their father.  Once again it is sad to see the adults of my youth leave all of us "youngsters" behind, and he was not really all that old.  There are just some people who I thought would be around forever somehow, the way irrational thoughts like that find a roost in our brains.

(My cousin who passed is on the right side.  The other two are her siblings.)

Then, I received word yesterday that my cousin Jean, my oldest cousin on my mother's side, had quietly succumbed to brain cancer just that morning.  Earlier this year, I posted about the graveside of her husband.  They both seem too young to have it be their turn to go but there is no rhyme or reason to death.  I will be attending her graveside in northern Utah next week (assuming I am over the crud).

This really feels like the year of the funerals to me from the little "re-funerals" I go through in my de-junking to the actual funerals that I have attended this year, with my mother's funeral being the big funeral for my year. 

I guess that is one dynamic of middle age, that you begin to know as many people in the Great Beyond as you know here, and this year I officially took one step toward the other side of the middle, so I suppose I am not finished with funerals for some years yet.  And I am not finished with all that sorting and "time travel."  Surely there are things to learn in all of this, like:  "Life is short."  Perhaps that is a post for another day, too.