And he's gone. Plopped into a parking garage at the MTC, a hug for Mom, a few photos snapped by a missionary practicing Japanese, and we were off.
Almost home now. Happy for him but feeling like the car is a little empty.
And he's gone. Plopped into a parking garage at the MTC, a hug for Mom, a few photos snapped by a missionary practicing Japanese, and we were off.
Almost home now. Happy for him but feeling like the car is a little empty.
We're lazing about in a hotel in Ogden, getting ready to drop Isaac off at the MTC. He has to be there to meet his district (and Elder Palmer, his companion, with whom he has merrily klonked heads for the week of home MTC). It's odd to think the time has come, and I think this morning the import of the moment is hitting Isaac a little hard. He's been subdued and quiet.
Or maybe just tired from the day before. We did a session at the Logan Temple, then had a $170 dinner at Maddox in Perry before we stopped in Ogden for the night.
Side note: The Logan Temple was much more modern inside than I was anticipating for a Pioneer-era temple. I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but I certainly know the Idaho Falls Temple has survived remodeling efforts with much more of its 1940s Art Deco intact.
More to come . . .
Michelle painted the stairwell and the stair rail last year. Just got the rail back up today. And I did *not* use drywall screws to fasten it to the wall, thankyouverymuch.
I did this scientifically, since she puttied over the holes in the drywall as she painted. I measured the basement rail height, figured out which end of the rail went where, and then with the assistance of Isaac, busily preparing to depart for the MTC today, got the rail put up and back into the actual studs.
That's one of those things you do when you're taking a much-needed day off work for a trip to Utah but need to burn off some nervous energy before the trip begins.
It's the automated rush to mediocrity that bugs me. I mean, I can be a mediocre writer on my own; I don't need technological help to be so.
The worst part: Most AI acolytes don't care. Writing is a chore to be taken off a checklist, not anything to be done to help increase one's abilities or make their brains work.
I get it -- writing is hard. I've been working on a novel for years. Reading is one thing, writing is completely different. It's like saying "Hey, I like cars. I can drive them. I'm going to build one myself." Two completely different worlds.
But this AI writing for us isn't us writing, it's us going to the used car lot and buying the blandest piece of machinery on the lot. . .
Hello Isaac,
Thought you’d enjoy having a bit of mail in the mailbox when you got to the MTC. That is if this letter beats us there. We’ll see.
I imagine you’ll find your time at the MTC going fast. It went fast for me, as I recall, and I was there for 2 ½ months. You’re going to be busy there – and that’s a good thing.
If I can offer any advice, it would be this: Take what they teach you there seriously. I know you’re going into the mission full-bore; I expect nothing less from you. I’ve always admired your dedication and enthusiasm. Keep it up. There may be times, even in the two weeks you’re there, that you’ll feel discouraged. That’s normal. Just remember you’ve got a huge support group there, and we’re all rooting for you at home. More importantly, God called you to serve, and He’ll do everything he can to help you succeed as long as you’re doing your part. That you’ll do that I have no doubt.
Your personality and charisma will be tremendous assets to you in the mission field. God expects you’ll channel that into good. I saw charismatic missionaries accomplish great things. I also saw them lead other missionaries into things they shouldn’t be doing. Don’t do that.
I’ll get off the soapbox. You know what you’re facing, and you’ll hear plenty of advice from all sorts of people in the MTC and in the mission field. Just remember to listen to the spirit and you’ll do wonderfully.
As you serve your mission, you’ve inspired me to re-read my mission journals and letters. Maybe I’ll send you a bit of stuff here and there and you might relate (or not) to experiences the old man had on his mission. I won’t promise you any Naked Ninja moments, but as I recall my folks did build a new house and move while I was on my mission, so the opportunity was always there. Dad wanted to keep the new house a secret, but Mom was always bursting to send any news she could. Roles would be reversed for your Mom and I, as I’m the one who likes to blab.
Journal writing (soapbox comes back out): Do it. You’ll see the value in it as you go. I don’t know that you need to do it daily, but certainly record things that happen to you. Record promptings from the Lord. Record the good stuff and the bad stuff. I know when I re-read the entries from the days when I was feeling low and lousy it helps me keep perspective on how I dealt with the bad, and how I could certainly have dealt with it better. The more we record, the more we’re able to recall and ponder on. The Book of Mormon in many parts (I’m thinking particularly of Enos and Mormon/Moroni) are dudes like us recording their ups and downs. There’s a lot of value in what they wrote, and while what we record won’t necessarily become scripture, it can still hold a lot of value for us. And remember that the incidental things you write – emails, letters, etc., can double as journal entries. I haven’t journaled on paper in years but put a lot of stuff on my blog. If I have something significant I want to keep, I save the file on my computer. We’ll do what we can to preserve the emails and letters you send, so they can supplement your own journal writing. Just find a way to record your memories and thoughts (backs off the soapbox again).
I just really hope you enjoy your time, have fun with your companions, and can look back on your mission years with fondness. Missions are a lot of work, but as with life, they can be a lot of fun as well. I know you know how to find fun and how to make things fun, so as long as you’re doing things in a way that keep you and your companion safe and keep the spirit with you, you’re going to do great things.
I’ve babbled long enough. I’ll end this letter and let you get back to the MTC thing.
Love, Dad
I offer a few updates after a busy week.
Update 1: Isaac sold his truck, thus the pile in this photo.
It's good.
So I am upset.
But in a good way. Though the book was a bit predictable in parts, the story is entertaining, and the last 30 or so pages I had to finish in a gulp because the tension built nicely and the bad guys get their comeuppance and it doesn't really matter all that much if there were so many characters, many of whom blended together, I kinda forgot who some of the bad guys were even at the end. That might be this novel's biggest fault, and something I should learn for my own writing. We don't need to make all of our characters zany and Gentry Lee-esque, but we should certainly strive to help them be memorable enough when their names are mentioned again long after they're introduced we remember who they are. And maybe that's my fault; sometimes I'm not the most observant reader. But this book is no Dickens character fest, either.
It's not the best spy spoof or whatever that I've read, but it was a fun read nonetheless.
I can't recommend it to my wife, to whom I pass many a book, because there's plenty of swearing in the story. I don't mind an occasional cuss, but this kind of went beyond the pale. True-to-life dialogue it might be, but it certainly makes the characters a lot less memorable when all they can do is drop an f-bomb rather than say something clever.
The Indiana and the Illinois units came over the barricade north of the railroad and captured a gun. Private James S. Adkins of the 33rd Illinois, exhilarated by the bloodless victory, leaped astride the gun tube, waved his elbows up and down at his sides, and crowed like a rooster. Then, curious, he tugged at the lanyard. The gun went off, hurling a shell close over the heads of the units coming up in support, and bucking Adkins head over heels into the dirt. Miraculously, no one was hurt.