This happened today, thanks to Pokemon Go

A reunion three years in the making

I am getting the sense that TMFKATB is keenly aware that his time in the mission field is drawing to a close. His letters are arriving a little bit later each week and they have a familiar ring to them. I think he's trying to maximize his time with those he is serving and serving with as opposed to waxing poetic in emails home. Today's letter was nice, almost formulaic, but reassuring that all was well.

The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I were talking about his letter when are respective phones began noising off that each of us was getting a text. Quicker to open her text, SML let out a half-giggle / half whoop and said I needed to open my texts. Now.

There it was - TMFKATB with his buddy from here in the 'Stan, Cooper. They've not seen in each in three years. Cooper began his mission service in Rio de Janeiro a year before TMFKATB left, so their service has kept them apart. Until today. Cooper's family is behind the Zion Curtain, visiting their family in Mormon Mecca. TMFKATB and his companion were driving down a road in West Jordan when he saw, unbelievably, his buddy in a K-Mart (turns out there are still K-Marts that are open - who knew?!) parking lot playing, wait for it, Pokemon Go. They pulled over and a joyous reunion ensued! The best part is that Cooper was with his mom who immediately began texting us pictures and a blow-by-blow of the sudden reunion. To hear from someone who knows TMFKATB, who saw him when he was home sick from Mexico, and to have her say, "He looks so good!" was an absolute blessing for us. We loved getting the play-by-play. We loved seeing TMKATB see Cooper's dad. It really was terrific! Did it make us jealous? No, it made us so excited to know that we'll be seeing him in 23 days (but who's counting?!). We've been flying high all afternoon and into the evening as a result. Massive thanks to our sweet friends for making this happen today!

The world is so much smaller than we think. I'm grateful for this crazy technology that we have that allowed us to see and hear our boy today. We're grateful for friends that were able to give our boy more than a few hugs today.

I'm even grateful for Pokemon Go. Had Cooper not been playing it in that parking lot today, I'm not sure this reunion would have happened. Never in a thousand years did I think I'd be grateful for Pokemon Go. I suspect that this will be a one time thing.

Hear him for yourself!

An Early Christmas Greeting

As we began Phase Two of Vacation Shenanigans 2015, we found ourselves in CAL's heavily laden ox cart of a Ford Escape emerging from the Zion Curtain, bound for the red hills of Utah's Dixie, St. George (I have no idea why it's called 'Dixie.' Maybe named for one of the polygamist wives that are all over the place here?). During that drive, we heard from TMFKATB. His letter, entitled Merry Christmas, was an early gift to us.

From the picture at the top of the post, our twenty year old son proves he is still a little kid. He failed to wait until Christmas morning to open the gifts we'd sent him. It made his mother and I smile, to be honest. So did the the thought of being able to Skype with him on Christmas Day. Talk about an awesome gift that's awaiting us. As for the rest of his update, it was good. It was a good week to serve! He talked about witnessing the power of friendship and how it helps people heal. It was great to read.

We, too, were reminded of the joy of friendships yesterday as well. Thanks to my inability to not post stuff on various social media sites on the Interwebs, we were able to connect with friends we'd not seen in nine years (since we moved from Temecula, CA). They just happened to be overnighting here in 'Dixie' on their way back to SoCal and we were able to spend some time together last night. As far as reunions with friends go, it was pretty darn sweet. It was an early and unexpected Christmas gift, for sure. Those are the best kind!

Hoarding

When the "Hoarders" television series first aired, I saw the first few episodes and watched with my jaw agape, wondering how things could get that out of control in anyone's life. It wasn't long before I stopped watching because it doesn't take too many rat/cat/bird carcass discovery scenes before you get bored (more of a pathetic commentary on our media consumption and expectations than anything else, isn't it?) and off you go, never really giving the mental illness that is often associated with hoarding or its impact any further thought.

While I ran into a few hoarders during my missionary service thirty years ago and a couple of others since then, I hadn't given hoarding much thought until yesterday. Along with some friends from church, I spent a chunk of my day yesterday on a community service project (non-court ordered, by the way) that involved hauling nearly 100 bags of leaves, raked by kids from the local high school, from the yards of those that aren't able to do so to a farm for composting purposes. After playing a couple versions of real-life "Frogger" after a few leaf bags flew out of the back of the truck, it was off to our final assignment of the day - hauling refuse (let's be honest and call it what it was - junk, straight up junk) from a woman's home. Before we got there, we'd been told that there was a pile in front of the home, ready to go be scooped up and taken to our town's Transfer Station (aka dump - remember we live under the icy fist of Martha Stewart so apparently you can't use the word 'dump'). When we got there, we found that there were multiple piles and that the home was nearly indistinguishable from the piles. We literally did not know where to begin and there was no asking the homeowner. All we were told of her was that she was widowed and terribly hard of hearing and would not come to the door. So we tore into the largest pile, separating metal from wood from plastic from just garbage in hopes of making a little difference for the homeowner. Looking behind the pile, we found a 1966-ish Cadillac El Dorado convertible marooned in the earth with trees growing all around it. It was amazing and heartbreaking all at once. Staring at the heap of junk in the yard and the rusting hulk of that old car, I wondered aloud, "How does it get this bad for someone?" I wondered where was this woman's family. Where were her friends? Wasn't there someone in her life to say, 'Please let me help you.' There was work to be done and I had to stop asking questions and so I got back to tossing junk into the back of the truck. Although I had stopped asking the questions aloud while at the site, I haven't stopped asking them in my head.

I don't have the answers to those questions. I'm not a mental health professional, nor do I play one on TV, so I won't presume to try and answer the profound mental / medical issues at play here. I know that family dynamics can be a DefCon 5 / lit fuse on a powder keg situation in even the most perfect of families (P.S. there is no such thing), but how can you let a family member descend into such a level of despair? You can't. You just can't. While I have no idea how things can get so bad in someone's life that hoarding is the answer, I hope I can be a person who is there to say, "Please let me help you. Let me be your friend." I hope I can be that guy.

I've also been thinking a lot about my friends over the course of the last few days. I'm grateful for each of my friends and for what you've added to my life. Our lives, beliefs, and who we are, in many cases, could not be more different but I wouldn't want it any other way. I am better for it. I hope I've given back to you in some small way as well and that I'll be able to keep doing that.

Life can be stormy. In some cases, a person may find refuge from those storms in something extreme, like hoarding. Others are able to find comfort with family and friends. I'm happy to be that port in a storm for my family and friends. And I know you'd do the same for me. Thank you.

An Old Friend

The grilled cheese? Great. Catching up? Excellent!

As I was walking back to my office down a sun-soaked Lexington Avenue yesterday after a lunch meeting, I looked around, paused, and took in the perfection that was New York City at that moment. The sun, the beaming blue sky, the warmth (although cool enough that the city doesn't smell like pee yet), and the beautiful chaotic symphony of taxi horns, buses belching to life, and people talking as they hustled, all made for a perfect day. I, and I know this will shock you, felt compelled to overshare make a comment about said perfection on the Facebook.

Shortly thereafter, I got a message from an old friend who I have not seen in nearly ten years. He happened to be in the city and wanted to know if we might be able to get together. Fortunately, I had scheduled myself on the later train that night so it would work out that we could connect. What better way to prepare for my usual showdown with our nation's passenger rail overlord than seeing an old friend!

After a debacle with my MetroCard and a mad dash into a cab, I was able to meet up with C. As I said, we'd not seen in each other since our families moved from SoCal within a couple of months of each other nine years ago. Since then, we've both moved again, but thanks to the interwebs, we've stayed in touch. Catching up last night over grilled cheese sandwiches (shout out to C for ordering his with maple bacon!) was just plain old fun. Although much has changed for us both over the years, it was easy conversation and I was reminded how fortunate I am to have the friends that I do. My friend C is a gifted musician / singer and I suspect he has no idea the impact one of his performances had on me. Years ago, he performed a song in church that had me crying like a little girl (and not the creepy fangirl way either). Rather, as he sang that day, and emotions and the Spirit flooded over me and the tears fell with abandon, I realized my sense of manhood would not be diminished by the shedding of tears in recognition of the feelings at that moment. Since then, music in particular has led me to some pretty good emotional moments, for which I make no apologies. Just ask the Chick-fil-A drive-thru girl in American Fork, UT who had to deal with my quivering mess of a self two nights before Our Lady of Awesome got married. The poor thing is, no doubt, still traumatized.

I've never forgotten the impact of that song and meeting up with C last night reminded me again of how fortunate I have been. I've been given so many good friends. I think of things my friends have said to me that have had a profound impact on me. I think about what I've learned and what I continue to learn from my friends and I am grateful. Thank you, friends, for making my life richer. I only hope I can return the favors and kindnesses somehow. I owe C thanks for that lesson he taught me and I didn't say thank you last night, so I say it now - thank you, my friend.

Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together. - Woodrow T. Wilson