Crazy House

Two days after her husband Leo passed away Norma was diagnosed with uterine cancer. Her doctors discussed treatment options, including surgery, chemo and radiation therapy. Norma told them, “I’m 90 years old. I’m hitting the road.” She wasn’t in pain and her mind was as sharp as a tack. She’d always dreamed of traveling. Norma and her son upgraded his old Airstream to a larger RV. Her standard poodle Ringo tagged along. They began touring the country last August, seeing places they'd never seen and enjoying life to the fullest. “We see what cancer treatment looks like every day,” said her doctor. “It’s exactly what I would do in this situation.” Friends and family followed their exploits – including Yellowstone and Walt Disney World – on their Facebook page. The last post in February indicated that Norma’s earthly adventure was coming to a close. I can only imagine that by now she’s been reunited with Leo. Bon Voyage, Norma!

Free Trade

There are five different kinds of apple available at the grocer near my home: Red Delicious, Yellow Delicious, Gala, Granny Smith and Fuji. Those five are there pretty much all year long. They never seem to go bad, but they were never all that good to begin with. When I was a girl autumn was apple season; that meant Rome, McIntosh, Jonathan, Cortland, Pippin, and dozens of other varieties. Their aroma was intoxicating. Some were incredibly sweet and juicy; some more crisp and tart. Some were better for eating or pie or cider than others, some made better applesauce and some kept longer in the cellar. Compared to any of them, all the apples at my local store taste like cardboard. When my grandmother was a girl there were hundreds of different apples, but my grandkids can only sample five. Will their grandchildren only know one – one shiny, red, odorless and tasteless apple that never spoils?

Belle's Favorite

There are hundreds – probably thousands – of quilt blocks with names attached, like Crazy Anne, Aunt Mary’s Tulips, Sarah’s Choice, Fanny’s Favorite, Dinah’s Pride, Fred’s Spool, Grandma Dexter, Kathy’s Ramble, Jack’s Delight, and so on. Every single time I run across one of these blocks, I find myself wondering about the person for whom it was named. Did Jack actually make a quilt with these blocks that gave him delight? Or was he delighted that someone else made the quilt for him?  For a few of these blocks, like Clay’s Choice and Lincoln’s Platform, it’s easy to make an educated guess as to why they bear the names they do. But with most of them I’ll just have to wonder. Who was Belle? Is it short for Isabelle, for Annabelle, or something else entirely? Or was she simply a southern belle? And why was this unpleasant and awkward block her favorite? I guess I’ll never know.

Flagstones

When I was young I used to give my age in half years. Saying, “I’m eight and a half” sounded more sophisticated somehow. When do we stop adding “and a half?” Next inauguration day, whether he’s elected or not, Trump will be seventy and a half years old. Hillary will be 69; the same age as Ronald Reagan when he took office. It’s been more than a few years, but I remember Reagan’s 1980 campaign, and what a big deal his age was then. Somehow no one seems to notice how old the candidates are today. (Okay, I seem to recall someone calling Bernie Sanders and old fuddy-duddy. But he’s 75!) The average American, willingly or not, retires at age 62. At that age most people would be lucky to find a job as a Wal-Mart greeter. But the people applying for one of the world’s most taxing jobs are already much older than that.

Indian Territory

“I find no difficulties in reconciling my scientific passion about Native American history with my religious beliefs. I am not looking for a personal testimony of the Book of Mormon in the double helix. The scientific method and the test of faith are two strongly connected dimensions of my existence, working synergistically in providing greater understanding, knowledge, and from time to time even a glimpse into God’s eternal mysteries. Anyone using DNA to ascertain the accuracy of historical events of a religious nature – which require instead a component of faith – will be sorely disappointed. DNA studies will continue to assist in reconstructing the history of Native American and other populations, but it is through faith that we are asked to search for truth in holy writings.” – Ugo A. Perego, population geneticist and LDS bishop

Four Corners

“My angel mother, Jasmine Bennion Arnold, clearly understood her role to help in the rescue of our Heavenly Father’s wounded or lost sheep, including her own children and grandchildren. What a marvelous role grandparents can play in the lives of their grandchildren. Mom was usually assigned to visit teach those struggling with their faith, the less-active and part-member families; however, her flock included several others that no one had assigned her to visit. Generally her visits were not just once a month, as she quietly listened, ministered to the sick, and gave loving encouragement. The last several months of Mom’s life, she was homebound, so she spent hours writing them letters, expressing her love, bearing her testimony, and lifting those who came to visit.” - Elder Mervyn B. Arnold