My Sleeve Where It Should Be

“Grandpa?  What makes Hooper tomatoes so much better than all the other tomatoes?” I would often ask this of my Grandfather Don Read as he would drop off what seemed like endless buckets of Tomatoes from his Garden each year.   The Garden (yes in capital letters) looked like a farm to me even though it was nowhere near that size.  And it produced tomatoes that even to this day I remember fondly as the best tasting I have ever partaken of.   He would often respond with explanations, like the fact that they were watered once a week, or that in Hooper there was a lot against growing them and so the ones that made it was the sweetest, or sometimes he would just say that the soil was a high alkaline soil.  Some of these explanations have probably less to do with science and more to do with legend.   “There must be something in the water” is a comment I have heard from time to time standing in line at one of the many stands that pop up around Hooper Utah during the harvesting

The Disney film "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" is full of contrasting characters.  Each of the characters has flaws.  The writer of the book which was adapted into the animated classic, Victor Hugo, explores the difference between keeping God's commandments and not. The story gives us such fascinating characters as Esmeralda, the Gypsy street dancer, Phoebus the soldier, Frollo the Archdeacon of Notre Dame, and Course Quasimodo, the deformed hunchback and bell ringer of Notre Dame. So much of what we may call righteousness can quickly become distorted when the love exemplified by Christ is absent. Esmerelda by many of the citizens of Paris, including Frollo, is considered a harlot.  In one aspect, she is adored as a dancer and entertainer, but then she is despised as a witch.  Many of the reasons for the citizens to love or hate her are external.  Likely many have no real knowledge of her moral standing and only judge what they see.   What we find through the

Sometimes I wonder why God gives some people in the scriptures clear answers, and others that are unambiguous, and to some, he is less then clear and makes them put more work into finding the solutions. Often, I want God just to tell me what to do, and then I will do it.  And I admit there are times I have a clear answer, one that is unambiguous.  But most times I have to work a lot more for an answer and even then it isn't as clear as I would hope.  It brings up the question of the leaders of the Church, even the prophet.  Christ is the Head of this Church.  Does God work with his Prophets the same way he works with me?  Giving some obvious direction, but other times allowing more work and decisions to be on the mortal side of things?  Let me start with one of my favorite Book of Mormon stories.  It is the Story of the Brother of Jared. Specifically, when he struggled with what to do about the design he had been given for the vessels that would take the people across th

"Best Friends"   by  Max Ruckman  is licensed under  CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 About two years ago, I assisted our local missionaries with teaching and befriending the husband of one of our ward’s devoted sisters. I will call him Jim. Jim and I have become extremely close. Due to an age difference, it is unlikely we would have become friends in any other way. He has progressed through the lessons on to baptism and is now sealed to his wife.  It has been my pleasure to become acquainted with and love this brother. Each week I found it strange that he had to attend with the high priests while I attended with the elders.  I would always tell myself it was great that he was associating with others, which was true, but something that I was used to doing all my life now seemed odd. I guess the idea of two separate groups, supposedly working toward the same goal, started to feel unproductive. As you are probably aware, there have been quite a few changes to how we do things in The Chu

At the Semi Anual General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on April 7, 2019, as the choir was singing “Jesus Once of Humble Birth” I witnessed one young man struggling to sing as tears formed little trails down his cheeks.  I remember feeling the same way as I sang at the conference a few years back.  I struggled to sing “Hope of Israel” as the spirit spoke directly to my heart.  Music can be such a pure conduit to the Spirit, it is often overwhelming. Several years ago I was asked to be part of a multi-stake choir to sing for the priesthood session of general conference. Of course, I said yes. Because the actual experience of singing during a worldwide conference was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Yet I did not look forward to singing in a choir that big and to the rehearsals. I guess I had a bad attitude and I needed to be taught some new virtues. You see I don't like big choirs because they don't like it when I do things to stand out. I

About two years ago, I assisted our local missionaries with teaching and befriending the husband of one of our wards devoted sisters.  I will call him Jim. Jim and I have become extremely close. Due to an age difference, it is unlikely we would have become friends any other way.  I have been with him as he progressed from learning to practice. He has progressed through the lessons on to baptism and now has been sealed to his wife.  It has been my pleasure to become acquainted with and love this brother. Each week I found it strange that he had to attend with the High Priests, while I attended Elders.  I would always tell myself it was great that he was associating with others, which was true. Something that I had become used to all my life, now seemed odd.  I guess the idea of two separated groups, supposedly working toward the same goal, started to feel unproductive. As you may be aware, there have been quite a few changes to how we do things in the Church of Jesus Chr

“You will always be in our hearts little guy,” is the type of thing that we would say as we tossed candy onto a “sacred” spot. This memorial is not like other memorials.   And neither are the “so-called” mourners.      Four friends, Nathan Graham, Tom Fowers, Kyle Christensen and I began paying tribute to a fly we found frozen in ice.   I do not remember all the details, except that our tongue in cheek ceremony began as one stupid idea was thrown out to outdo the last person. I’m sure it was probably Kyle who first pretended to be devastated at finding this frozen little fly and everything built off of that.   We paid homage to the fly who somehow was ultimately named ”Little Bugger Booger” nearly every day during lunch that year.   And the next, our corny ceremonies became stranger and stranger, and since one or all of us usually had candy out of the machines with us, we often left some on the site we chose to bury him instead of flowers.      The concept of “you had to be the