Nothing

The great comedian and storyteller Mike Birbiglia has said, "The internet is an infinite well of nothing."  Knowing that truer words have never been spoken, I have not wanted to add to that infinite well by posting something in the Den, simply because I should.  It's been a weird week, one where I've felt almost zero compulsion to post.  I've had nothing to add, nothing to say, nothing to share. So I've stayed silent.

Silence can be is golden, as the saying goes.  I guess I've been pretty golden this past week.  I intentionally opted to stay above the latest Presidential debate angerfest that broke out on social media this past week.  Is it November 6th yet?  Lo, that it were...

Speaking of that auspicious date, I'll be in China, where I'll be silent on the blog, as it appears the blog is still banned there.  That said, it will be interesting to see how Chinese media covers the elections.  The stunningly patient and mighty SML and I were in Sydney, Australia during the 2008 election campaign, and watching the Australian media cover President Obama's nomination at the DNC Convention was awesome.  It was no-holds barred commentary, something that any of our dying broadcast media networks would ever dare to do.  I somehow think the Chinese will cover the U.S. elections a little differently.

So, on this quiet, gorgeous fall afternoon in this little corner of New England, I'll get back to pondering what I can do to contribute more actively to the infinite well of nothing that is the interweb.  Feel free to post your suggestions.

Walking it out

Along the Farmington River

With the leaves falling and with those trees that have retained their leaves exploding in brilliant hues of orange, red, and yellow, fall has decidedly arrived here in our odd little corner of New England.  It is an absolutely beautiful time of year and I'm glad that we are able to experience this season here.

Yesterday the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I decided to take advantage of the crisp but not yet cold fall air and take a long walk along the Farmington River.  As you can see from the picture, with leaves serving as our carpet much of the way, it was a beautiful walk. While the scenery was exquisite, even better was the opportunity that she and I had to simply talk.  I am pleased to report that after nearly 24 years of marriage, we haven't run out of things to talk about.  Of course, with me as a spouse,  I'm not sure that the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML will ever run out of things to discuss. Admittedly, I give her plenty of fodder.  Unfortunately, it can often begin with "Why did you have to say (insert my latest inappropriate comment/observation) while we were out with (insert couples' name)?"

That said, much of what we talked about on our walk focused on what's next for us, particularly as a couple on the cusp of full empty nestedness (I don't really think that's a word).  The reality is, though, that with Our Lady of Awesome married, CAL in school full-time, and the Boy less than two years away from a mission, we are much closer to being lone parents in the Garden of Eden than we probably think. It was a little exciting to talk about some of the things we might do.  It was a little scary to talk about some of the things that could loom ahead as well, too.  Scary simply because of the unknown, nothing more dramatic than that.  I can report though that my dream to be called 'Fred' in place of 'Grandpa' is dead.  I will not under any circumstances be allowed to let any grandchildren that we might have call me 'Fred.'  And before any of you think that I am telegraphing an announcement here, let me be perfectly clear, I am not.

I hope we get a few more walks in like this before it gets hideous here.  Maybe we'll get lucky and we'll have a mild winter.  We'll see what else we can figure out on our walks.  Perhaps we can tackle what to do about the Middle East next....we're all for a good challenge.

Vitriol

VITRIOL - as defined by the word nerds at dictionary.com, means: something highly caustic or severe in effect, as criticism.

Welcome then, my friends, to the week that was in social media.  It's been a veritable cavalcade of vitriol.  And what pray tell was the source?  That would be the one and only Vice Presdential debate of this insufferably long political season.

Earlier this week, America's favorite crazy uncle, Vice President Joe Biden, and Republican congressman, VP candidate, and P90X/Tony Horton acolyte Paul Ryan debated.  I was only moderately interested in the debate and as it began, my wise best friend, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML, suggested that perhaps I watch something else or watch nothing at all.  I opted for watching nothing at all.  I then started checking my Twitter feed and comments on the interweb's favorite place to spew, Facebook, and decided that maybe I should not look at that either.  So I started reading a book about North Korea and the modern-day underground railroad that exists to help people escape that vicious regime.

Based on the invective that was all over the two aforementioned social media outlets the following morning, I was never so glad I opted to read a book.  I'm all for a good debate and I'm all for political discourse but the level of personal vitriol that has erupted is incredible to me.  And I'm not talking about the snarkfest that was the spat between Biden and Ryan.  I'm talking about what I saw on the FB and Twitter and for comments that were directed to me personally because I am not of the Mittite tribe. Wow.

I have friends from across the political/social/religious spectrum and if I stack up the comments that were made during the VP debate and the first Presidential debate, in terms of acting/reacting really poorly and spewing personal attacks on those who choose not to support their candidate, the folks supporting Team Romney win.  Frankly, I'm not sure that's an award you want to win.  It's been interesting to have those supporting Team Romney (and who, ironically enough, share the same faith as me and Romney) call me an idiot, call me ridiculous, and mock me because their candidate "won" the first presidential debate or because I somehow had something to do with crazy Uncle Joe's snarky performance.  If only I had that kind of influence...I don't.

Everybody, relax.  Remember what you were taught in your high school civics/government class (except for those of us educated in the Arizona public school system), these things have a way of working themselves out.  We still live in a mighty and great nation.  Be grateful for the freedoms we have.  Be grateful that we are free to have open political dialogue.  Be grateful you aren't a young Pakistani teen-age girl with a bullet in her brain, courtesy of the Taliban, because you had the audacity to speak out.  Be grateful that you aren't living in a vicious, oppressive regime like North Korea.

That said, Tuesday, November 6, can't come soon enough.

18/19

Yeah, these numbers are going to have new meaning

Every six months, we members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints gather for a worldwide conference.  It is a time to be fed and taught spiritually, to be reminded of what is important in life, and, occasionally, to shake things up.

Thanks to the satellite television and the interwebs, this is one conference that we enjoy from home.  It makes for a different experience as we gather to hear the counsel of a prophet and to be taught.  Sure, we also wait to hear of anything new, like new temples (congrats, Tucson and Arequipa, Peru) or to see if any long-rumored changes come to fruition (c'mon, two-hour meeting block!).  While the two-hour meeting block was not announced, yesterday an announcement involving the numbers 18 and 19 was made that was nothing less than epic.

In the Church, it has long been expected that young men upon reaching their 19th birthday embark on two-year missions.  Young men sacrifice two years of schooling, work, etc., to serve these missions at their own expense. They are sent all over the world to do some good.  These are life-changing experiences.  I was honored to serve the Spanish-speaking people in Miami for two years in the Florida Ft. Lauderdale Mission and my life was forever changed for the better as a result.  Not only did I learn practical skills, including another language, but I learned to be a better man.  I served with a lot of great people, including young women who voluntarily served for 18 months, beginning at age 21.

As of yesterday, 18 and 19 became the new 19 and 21.  It was announced that now young men can embark on missionary service at age 18, provided, of course, they have graduated high school.  Young women can now serve, if they choose, beginning at age 19. The reaction to this announcement was priceless.  The reaction of those assembled at the Conference Center in Salt Lake City was audible.  Several young men who looked to be about 18 and whose reactions were caught on camera looked like they had just been punched. Young women were giddy.  Several mothers looked stunned.

The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML was one of those stunned mothers. She immediately began to cry, saying, "I just lost a year with him (him being The Boy, of course)!" Well, not really, I explained to her. He doesn't graduate until May 2014, about four months shy of his 19th birthday.  This realization seemed to be a bit soothing.  I'm sure plenty of families have tons to think about right now.

This is a pretty exciting thing for members of the Church.  It will be most interesting to see how this plays out. I'm eager to see how this goes down.

While this little bombshell announcement has overshadowed the Conference, there has been great teaching this weekend as well. The counsel to man up here is one I will be studying and will work to implement. I've got to be better for my family and for me.