Tuesday, April 9, 2019

Covenant Israel


As covenant Israel, we don’t just try and try on our own to change. If we earnestly appeal to God, He takes us as we are—and makes us more than we ever imagined. —Neill F. Marriott

Admitting failure is not sweet;
I hate to think I have been beat.
But when it happens I must try
unto the Lord for help to cry.

Though covenants are hard to keep
and sometimes make me sigh or weep
I know that strength to persevere
can come from God and is quite near.

Make of me whate'er Thou must;
I am, at last, thine ancient dust.
Have mercy on my doubts and fears;
please help me face the coming years!

Monday, April 8, 2019

The pure love of Christ


As we grow in the pure love of Christ, our hearts soften. That love will humble us and lead us to repent. Our confidence in the Lord and in each other will grow. And then we will move toward becoming one, as the Lord promises we can.
Henry B. Eyring.

A heart that is humble and melting with love
is not apt to judge or to yell or to shove.
Repenting betimes with a confidence sweet,
our hearts will be one as our sins we defeat.
The promise of God is as sure as the rock
on which we reside as Jehovah's own flock.

Saturday, April 6, 2019

Sunday. April 6th. 1980.

Here we go again -- I’m lifting another one of my personal journal entries verbatim for this date from 39 years ago, with interpolations as I deem them necessary. Enjoy!

SUNDAY. APRIL 6th. 1980.
Went up to Tioga Friday nite with Connie Howard & her brother Craig for Amy’s birthday party.
(Connie was the Animal Control Officer for the city of Williston, where I worked at KGCX. She was a new member of the church, but didn’t last very long -- she got involved in some kind of cultish End of Days group that convinced her the Mormon Tabernacle Choir -- as it was then called -- was delivering messages from Satan. I remember the last time I saw her, just before Amy and I moved to Provo, she seemed very lost and sad.)
On the way there I noticed how dry everything was. The snow is gone from all but the deepest coulees, but the vegetation is a uniform brown, without a touch of green. It’s a constant wonder to me that this dry country produces so much.
(Everybody had a garden in Williston. During the summer I was inundated with tomatoes and summer squash. The soil, apparently, was superb for potatoes -- everyone knew someone on a farm nearby who would plant half an acre of spuds for them while planting the wheat or sunflowers. I rented a basement room from the town barber, and he filled up the half of the basement I wasn’t using with so many red potatoes that they kept rolling over to the washing machine, where I’d accidentally smoosh them into raw paste. That earthy potato smell got into all my clothing; I smelled like a farmer’s market when I went to work each morning.)
When we got to Amy’s we found the whole family gathered around the kitchen sink, where Mr. Anderson was trying to unplug the drain. After he succeeded we sat down to dinner and then gave Amy her presents. I gave her a piano shaped music box. (I wonder whatever happened to that thing? I remember seeing it at our house in Mill Creek, but I don’t think it survived the divorce, unless one of the kids has it.)  She got a purse from her mom -- with her new initials on it -- ALT. We danced in the basement for awhile -- but I was very tired by 10pm and went upstairs and waited lying down on the couch, until they were ready to go back to Williston.
I got home about 12:30 and had to be up on Saturday at my usual 8:30 a.m.  
(On Saturdays I didn’t go on the air, just sat around the station office until noon to answer the phone, since the usual receptionist/secretary, Arvella, didn’t come in on Saturdays. The station owner, Oscar Halvorson, had hundreds of brittle old LP records from the 40’s and 50’s, which I would rummage through for interesting things to play. I recall one record in particular: “Ted Kelsey’s 40 Banjo Orchestra.” It featured a few circus marches, which sounded pretty bizarre when plucked out by nothing but dozens of banjos.)
After morning work I took a brief nap and then Amy and I went to the library to check out some music to record for the shindig we’re holding in Williston before leaving for Utah.
(We held two wedding receptions -- one in Williston and one in Salt Lake. My mom took the train from Minneapolis to our Williston reception and gave us a check for a thousand dollars. She called getting married in the Salt Lake Temple “snooty” because only church members in good standing would be allowed into the ceremony. Amy’s parents gave us their old blue Ford station wagon, but not as a gift -- they wanted $1900.00 for it, which we paid them little by little for the next several months. At the time Amy was the only one who could drive -- I didn’t have a driver’s license and wasn’t interested in getting one. I was under the impression, right up until we were presented with the station wagon, that Amy and I were going to go out to Salt Lake by bus and learn to live without a car. My mistake . . . )
I also got a letter from the MTC saying they had no openings  -- so I will have to find work elsewhere out there. Saturday evening I went to priesthood meeting at the chapel. We have a direct wire broadcast from Salt Lake. It seemed to me that each speaker emphasized genealogy work and I made a silent vow that as soon as I had the means I’d go home and bring back my genealogy -- I don’t know why I didn’t bring it out with me when I came. That was a serious mistake.   
(In the event, I never did go back for my genealogy files -- I had several boxes full of group sheets and letters from cousins detailing Torkildson family connections. But my mom threw it all away several years after Amy and I were married. She liked to throw stuff out. While I was on my mission I kept a big steamer trunk full of clown props in her basement, which she cheerfully informed me she had given to the Good Will Store when I got home again.)
I almost forgot. The novel is all typed up -- so it is officially FINISHED.
(This last sentence confuses me dreadfully -- I know I did not finish “The Vita-Goodie Lady” until many years later. So what novel am I referring to here? I think it may have been something called “The Further Adventures of Elder West” in which I made fun of returned missionaries like me who were too eager to get married right away. But I’m not at all sure about it. I also remember writing a murder mystery with a circus background, with a clown/detective protagonist and a bunch of dead teeterboard acrobats strewed around the lot. Gosh dang it! I can’t remember -- maybe it will come to me tonight when I go to bed. Clarity often comes to me just as I’m drifting off . . . )
This morning I have the disagreeable task of working instead of going to church. I have to record & broadcast the Lutheran Easter Service.

After that was over (church taping) I went to church and caught Pres. Romney’s closing address for the morning session. Then I drove up with Amy & family to MacGregor, where Amy’s aunt Janice lives on a farm with Omer. We had turkey, ham, lefse, potatoes, yams, pickles, buns, and 6 different kinds of pie. Whew! I drove back down with Uncle Jimmy -- who is taking the discussions with the lady missionaries, wrote a poem to Amy and retired.

Friday, April 5, 2019

In Brunei you'd better behave



HONG KONG—The oil-rich Islamic kingdom of Brunei is implementing a legal code this week that includes penalties of stoning for adultery and sodomy and allows courts to punish thieves by cutting off their right hands, reflecting a conservative shift across Islamic Southeast Asia.
WSJ

In Brunei you'd better behave,
If something indecent you crave.
They'll chop off a paw
for flouting their law
or brain you with rocks from a cave.


Postcard to the President


Russia Says It Will Try to Free Almost 100 Whales Held in ‘Jail’ (Headlines in Today's NYT)



whales in jails
how could that be?
are they adherents
of Trotsky?
*
mules in schools
oh what a jibe
they must have paid
a heavy bribe
*
bats in spats
now there's a thought
that Hollywood 
will soon have bought
*
sharks in parks
a scary thing
that we can blame
on the left wing
*

hares on chairs
would be polite
don't serve them wine
or they'll get tight
*
snakes in cakes
a birthday treat
for Instagram
or as a tweet
*
birds in herds
and not in flocks
is news you'll hear
tonight on Fox
*

Trump Likely to Announce Plans for Summit With China’s Xi on Thursday (Headline from the WSJ)



It's likely I will be
having a Summit
with the cashier
at Fresh Market
about those avocados
*
And I'm taking a meeting
down at the bank
to iron out a few wrinkles
concerning 
their tariffs on bounced checks
*
Next on the agenda
is likely to be
a confab with
someone named Hamilton
who panhandles on
Center Street
whenever I go for a
haircut
*
Then a secret meeting 
with . . . 
well, if I told you
it wouldn't be a SECRET
anymore
no media allowed
*
I'll most likely end the day
with a conference call to
Papa John's Pizza

Where the love of God is shed


Yea, it is the love of God, which sheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men
First Nephi. Chapter Eleven. Verse 22.

Where the love of God is shed
there's no mourning, there's no dread.
In His cooling gentle shade
there's no cause to be afraid.
And the fruit from ev'ry tree
is a bite of ecstasy.
Why, then, should I ever stray
from the Tree of Life's good sway?
Help me grow, O Lord, to be
spreading like the green bay tree! 

Thursday, April 4, 2019

Movie Review: Stan & Ollie. Twilight of the Clowns.




Let's cut right to the chase -- should you go see this movie?

My answer is simple and blunt:  Yes and no.

Yes, if you are already grounded in the protean world of Laurel and Hardy -- and no, if the retro comedy duo does not infuse your consciousness.

To those who take the trouble to express their disdain for Laurel and Hardy (and they are legion) I would recommend this movie on the merits of the two superb actors who portray Our Heroes -- Steve Coogan as Stanley, and John C. Reilly as Oliver. Their performances are confidently low key yet sparkling. If the comedy of Laurel and Hardy leaves you cold, their off-camera personalities as portrayed in this film will give you a smile, because they are played as unassuming and slightly raffish men who took the greatest pride in their craftsmanship as clowns. They took a great deal of pleasure in their work, but not always in themselves or each other. And it takes some real acting chops to get that over without a sledgehammer or hankies.

Was anyone else bothered by all the smoking that takes place in this film? I mean, it's about as drenched in nicotine as Humphrey Bogart's 'Casablanca' or 'To Have and Have Not." I nearly started wheezing from the second hand smoke myself. Such emphasis doesn't add anything to the movie -- the milieu could have been recreated just as well without the Lucky Strike Hit Parade.

At bottom, I think, this film is primarily about the twilight of clowns. At one point in the movie a skeptical woman asks the box office cashier before buying her ticket to their live performance "Who's playing them?" She cannot get it into her head that they are still alive, still active, still able to create their screen characters on stage. 

You would think that more than any other people clowns could not be the ones most often to "go gentle into that good night." They definitely should be the ones to kick up a fuss, throw some pies, bring down the house rather than fade away without a furious blast. But, as 'Stan and Ollie' proves, somewhat sadly and wistfully, old clowns do go gentle into their decline -- eschewing a crotchety anarchy for whatever shreds of dignity and respect they can garner. Their pursuit of comedy at last tames them into an unseemly docility. The shadow of Till Eulenspiegel's grim fate, perhaps, lays much longer across their lives than they care to admit. 

Grimaldi, Lou Jacobs, Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy, even Jerry Lewis -- they all grew quiet and reflective as the walls of old age closed in on them.  The blow off, for them, amounted to little more than mundane tropes with a cup of chamomile tea.     

A wall of news cameras and satellite trucks

A wall of news cameras and satellite trucks flanked the federal courthouse in Boston as Hollywood actresses Felicity Huffman and Lori Loughlin made appearances in the college-admissions scandal.
(Courtesy of WSJ)

So
a Wall at last
made of cameras
and satellite trucks
*
President Trump
are you seeing this
are you considering
the use of your arch enemies
to build the Wall for you
*
just hire hundreds of
hollywood eye candy
(bollywood would be even cheaper)
to stand sultry at the border
*
and whammo
a wall of news cameras
and satellite trucks appear
and your problems are over
*
don't thank me
no medal is necessary
a border of babes
is it's own reward
*