You've Never Let Me Down Before

Dear Semicolon,

I don’t want to use you and toss you away; rather, I wish to show the world my devotion by utilizing you as often as possible. Some people may not understand you, some may use you wrongly, and some may think you are unnecessary, but I promise that I will never mistreat you.

It’s difficult when someone (or some punctuation mark) is being hard to read and isn’t straight-forward, but you have a wonderful ability to step in when things get confusing, like in long lists. You are able to clarify which parts of that list go together, namely when there are internal commas. I’m so grateful that you exist in order for clarity to be preserved.

  

I am tired of those who are repetitive, a quality which I wish to eschew. The use of the word “and” is valuable, but there can be too much of a good thing, such as when “and” is overused to join two independent clauses together. You can combine them, showing them that they can live with each other and even have a deeper relationship.What joy you produce in bringing them closer together!

Take, for example, the following sentences: “My brother cried” and “The store was out of Mountain Dew.” Anyone related to my brother would realize that there is a causal relationship between the two statements. However, someone unfamiliar with my brother’s drinking proclivities would not. Put a plain period between the two and they have nothing to do with each other. “My brother cried. The store was out of Mountain Dew.” How sad, how lonely those two statements appear. And then you come along and all is made clear. They go together! “My brother cried; the store was out of Mountain Dew.” That is the power you possess. Do you not know your profound worth?

You may be abused or neglected by some; however, there are so many who understand and appreciate everything you do in their lives. You perform a valuable function, and you do it with such grace and elegance that I am left breathless. Never were function and style combined so beautifully into one. You are the classy punctuation mark.

That is why I love you. That is why I wish to treat you with the utmost respect. Oh, semicolon, what would my life be without you? Perish the thought!

Your devoted admirer,

Megan

"Extremists think 'communication' means agreeing with them." -Leo Rosten

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Warning: Long post to follow.

I rarely write about serious things. I hardly ever post serious things on facebook. I’ve always been more comfortable keeping my online persona more frivolous, happy to be passionate about things like the Oxford comma. (don’t get me wrong; I still am passionate about the oxford comma, but that’s another story entirely.) So this is a departure of sorts, but I haven’t been able to get this out of my head for the last fifteen hours, so here goes.

Last night, I was taking Isaac for a walk in his stroller. At one point in our sojourn by the river, I saw we were coming upon a small group of young teenagers . . . they looked to be 14 or 15. Two boys, two girls. The girls looked like they were trying to hang back and have a private conversation while the boys went on ahead. I then noticed that the two girls were holding hands. So naturally I assumed they were an item.

That is all I assumed about them.

As I was passing, I heard one of the boys call back to them, seemingly in an effort to speed them up, “Come on, molesters! Come on, child rapists!”

What did they say???

I was absolutely appalled. I nearly turned around to ask those girls if these boys were their friends. Part of me still wishes I had. But I kept on walking, disgusted and disappointed by these boys who decided to use terrible words to refer to who I thought were their pals.

Now, part of me thinks that they only used such horrific terms because I was there, and they probably thought I was making assumptions and judgments about those girls simply because they were homosexual. I pretty much fit into the cookie-cutter shape of a Mormon woman (I was even wearing a BYU t-shirt at the time), so they probably were making some kind of commentary on whatever stereotype I was imposing on these two girls I was passing.

That is absolutely no excuse for calling them “rapist”.

Whatever my beliefs about homosexuality, I know that it does NOT equal “molester” or “child rapist”. Nothing of that kind had passed through my head. Unfortunately, there may be people who do think that, but I can guarantee I am not one of them. It is sad and unfair that there are people who think that, but it is also sad and unfair for these kids to think I'm one of those people merely because I am a mother walking her child and wearing a BYU t-shirt in Provo, Utah.

So yes, I was annoyed on my own behalf if that’s why they were using such language, but that wasn’t why I wanted to turn around and ask those girls if the boys were their friends. Because like I already stated, there is NO excuse for calling them those terms. None.

When did it become all right for us to insult and demean those people to whom we are closest? I include myself in this question, although I have never used such terrible words to describe ANY of my friends or family. Somehow, some time in the past, our culture flipped a switch and made it acceptable and normal to put down the people we like, while we remain polite and friendly to people we don’t actually know (or even like). It is usually in jest, and if the words seem innocuous enough, the recipient isn’t at all offended or hurt. I guess it’s supposed to speak on how close those two people are, that they are friendly enough that they can tease each other without feelings being hurt.

There may be something to that, but incidents like last night tell me that many people are taking it too far. That the coming generation has seen us behave this way and has decided to up the ante. Imagine a friend of yours has played a friendly prank on you, something harmless, but you feel a little foolish for being duped. It’s no longer enough to call them a “brat” or “punk” (again, seemingly harmless terms); they must be a “bitch” or a “rapist”.

Have these kids and the adults who have taught them forgotten what words mean? Did those boys last night somehow think that calling those girls “rapist” and “molester” was harmless? That they’re not talking about something that is actually horrific and terrible? Do they not know that to be a friend in this day and age, you actually have to have gumption to say something nice? It has become so easy for us to be sarcastic and insulting, all in the name of good fun and gentle teasing. Terms like the ones I heard last night and have heard in other places are NOT gentle. They connote something very serious and very harmful.

That’s why I wanted to turn around and ask the girls if these boys were their friends. And if they answered in the affirmative, I would have told them straight out that they were doing a lousy job of showing it. That’s why I still wish I had turned around, to let the girls know that they don’t have to put up with anybody calling them names, even and especially their friends. They should expect and even demand respect and kindness from their friends. So should we all.

The part of me that is all right with me continuing to walk away last night tells me that these teenage girls would either just have sworn at or ignored me. Who am I to butt in, right? But I should have been braver. Because teenage girls will put up with anything to keep the few friends they feel like they have. But keeping those kinds of friends only makes you feel lower. I would have told them that was something I wish I’d realized earlier as I put up with having less-than-stellar friends when I was beginning my teenage years. I got lucky by the time I was finishing middle school and starting high school, though. I ended up having awesome friends who were willing to build me up and be amazing to me. But I didn’t start out that way, and I was desperate to keep those few friends who would willingly eat lunch with me, even if they did constantly tease me and call me names, all in the name of good fun, acting like it really wasn’t a big deal the times I actually showed them I was hurt. “Oh, come on, we were just teasing. You don’t have to be so defensive.” Believe me, girls and boys, it’s all right to feel hurt when your apparent friends call you names. Because that’s how you find out who your friends are. Your friends are the ones who won’t hurt you.

I should have told them that, even if they wouldn’t have appreciated the stick-in-the-mud adult stopping and sticking her nose into their business. Because we all need to know that this deterioration of how we treat our closest friends and family is wrong. It’s an epidemic that desperately needs a cure. That cure is the bravery to be kind. It’s the creativity required to build someone up, rather than take the easy road and tear them down. That doesn’t mean we ignore the times that a friend really is being a jerk and needs to mend their ways. But when that’s the case, we don’t tease and call them names; we tell them there’s a problem in a sincere desire to help them be better people. Like we would hope they would do for us. Isn’t that what a friend is?

Some of you may think I’m taking this too seriously, and that’s all right. But if we keep pushing the line of what we call our friends or how we treat our family, how long (or short) will it be until we are conditioned to never say a kind word ever? So how does this stop?

I’m going to do what I can and simply start with me. I’m going to be better. I’m going to be kinder. I’m going to stop teasing my husband and stop being so sarcastic. I’m going to at least try to stop calling my son a “stinker” (even though, quite often, that’s what he literally is, being only four and a half months old and not potty-trained, after all). I’m going to be more positive. That’s really all I can do to change the world at this point. I can’t force others to be kind. But I can change myself. And I’m going to do it. So, if you see or hear me slip, let me know. I could always use an encouraging word from a friend.

-Me

Up next, my love letter to the semicolon. I'd rather get back to being passionate about punctuation.

Beautiful Boy

Just in case anyone was wondering, I haven't dropped off the face of the earth, although I will admit that I was wondering if I'd ever get back onto the blog. Laziness kind of just took over as month after month went by. And then January hit, and it wasn't laziness preventing me from writing any longer. It was this little fella.

 Brand new baby

 Proud Papa

Looking toward Ganny

Goodbye, Baby Blogger Envy!

Isaac Glen came into our lives on January 15th ,and he's definitely made an impression on our existence, mainly in the form of sleep deprivation and the oscillation between joy and frustration/inadequacy.

It's crazy to think that I'm actually a parent now; it was always something that would "eventually" happen. Kind of like, "Some day Glen will be done with school" or "I will move out of Provo". Occasionally I find myself still waiting for it to feel real that the term "mom" applies to me, even as I chat with Isaac and actually say the words, "I'm your mommy!"

 Blessing day -- what cute booties!

 Loving the rubdown after a bath

 Daddy's such a goof

But now he's nearly three months old and is finding new ways to charm and amuse me each day, which helps in the times he squalls and I am tempted to toss him out the window (glen's phrase, not mine). It's been especially fun since he's started smiling at us more often and consistently (especially at me, the meal provider). We're pretty sure his favorite spot is the changing table, because he always starts smiling when we get him on there (unless he's in a really bad mood). He has also discovered mirrors in the last couple of days, so he'll smile at himself for QUITE some time. I wonder if he knows it's him he's seeing. If he does, I'm tempted to start singing "You're so vain" when he gazes at himself. I may have already done so this morning.

In a more serious vein of thought, it's been a very humbling experience to become a mother in two distinct ways. The first is how inadequate I feel as I learn to take care of this little person who depends on other people, and primarily me, for everything. I realize how truly selfish a creature I am naturally and how much I need to overcome that feeling so that Isaac can be nurtured and taken care of. I need to work longer days because I'm constantly taking breaks to be with him, I have to keep my temper reined in when he's taking a long time to be consoled, I need to give up sleep (one of my favorite things), I need to give up time with Glen (who has been awesome as he's stepped into the role of father). Taking care of a child requires me to give up the easy road. One side of me is starting to embrace it, the other side is saying, "Dang it!"

 It's Easter!

 I love this face. -snicker-

The second humbling thing is how much I have depended on others the last couple of months. Having Isaac and the subsequent health trials that accompanied labor and delivery forced me to ask for and accept help, something I have never liked doing. I have even struggled with accepting help from Glen in taking care of Isaac, mainly because I feel like I've lost a battle if I have to give up my crying baby to his dad, and I should be able to do everything myself (right?). I have been extremely blessed, though, by Glen, family members, and friends in our ward who have all been so willing and eager to help and serve me. I just need to work on allowing that help and not feel guilty about letting some things go as I juggle Isaac, Glen, work, church, and life.

Wish me luck! And please don't hesitate to tell me how cute my child is.

-Me

"Parents were invented to make children happy by giving them something to ignore." -Ogden Nash

Physical

Before the last couple of weeks, I hadn't watched the Olympics so much since the Salt Lake Games ten years ago. (goodness, it was over ten years ago!) I have to say, I was one of the people who was truly annoyed with the NBC coverage, but I didn't really have another alternative, so NBC and I spent some evenings together.

I am constantly amazed by human beings. As I sit and watch TV, there are people out there stretching their limits and seeing just how far these amazing bodies can go! I'm very glad that I had a childhood instead of a gymnastics career (that would be over long before i reached the age i am now), but wow!!!

I loved cheering on gymnast Gabby Douglas in her all-around gold, to say nothing of seeing the U.S. team gold performance. I loved watching the people who were truly thrilled to win silver or bronze, because I couldn't help but be a little bit annoyed at those who cried over getting the silver medal at the FREAKING OLYMPICS. (good example of happy silver/bronzers: Dawn Harper and Kellie Wells in the 100 m hurdles.) I loved watching South Africa's Oscar Pistorius historic runs, mainly because I would fall down just walking on those prosthetic legs, and he RUNS on them! And FAST! I loved seeing Missy Franklin's enormous grin, the parents in the stands, and just the sheer awesomeness of these Games.

I'll tell you the most underwhelming part of the Games for me: the Opening and Closing ceremonies. I think my over-all impression of them was that they were a rock concert catering to a very specific demographic, and how many people were going to truly enjoy them? There were definitely highlights: The James Bond opening, Rowan Atkinson, giant Voldemort, Eric Idle, Glen discovering that I can sing along to the Spice Girls . . . but in hindsight I'm not sure that it was worth it for me to watch them because on the whole, I didn't enjoy them. That's kind of sad. I'm sure plenty of people did, though, so good on them. (were the ceremonies this long before they were televised? just curious.)

Certain images of past Olympics stick with me: Kerri Strug's final vault in Atlanta, bringing in the American flag from Ground Zero during the Salt Lake Opening ceremony, Michael Phelps' eighth gold medal in Beijing. What will stick with me from this one? Only time will tell.

-Me

"Finishing second in Olympics gets you silver. Finishing second in politics gets you oblivion." -Richard Nixon

Light My Fire

In the spring, Glen and I made "plans" to go camping this summer. It did not happen. There probably were a couple of weekends that we could have gone, but those were also the same weekends that there was major smoke in the air thanks to all the wildfires. Nothing ever came really near us, thank goodness, but I had no desire to head outside and deliberately breathe it in.

So a few weeks ago, Glen and I decided that, darn it all, we were going to camp this weekend. He requested time off at the ropes course (where he's been interning this summer) so that we would be sure to have a Friday night-to-Saturday morning/afternoon free, and it was going to work out.

Enter Education Week and basically-mandatory set-up for Glen. Goodbye, camping plans. Stupid Education Week.

Enter phone call with my mom expressing my disappointment. Enter brilliant Mom, who made an off-handed remark about camping indoors. I don't think she expected me to take her seriously, but I thought it was a great plan. Thanks, Mom!

I had no idea if our tent would actually fit in the living room, so I didn't even bother with it and instead hung up sheets (which glen informed me was probably harder than actually setting up the tent . . . i would agree with him on that score). I visited the library to get "scary story" books (to read by flashlight) and some sound effects cd's so that we would hear wolves howl in the distance (which i was really excited to find), and I am proud to say that I truly surprised Glen. I had told him I was planning our date and it would be at home, but he had no idea what to expect when I pulled him out of exile (our bedroom). Yay!

The set-up

Glen and the local "wildlife" -- I had also put out a couple of bears for us to not feed.

I was also proud of my faux fireplace.

 Glen "roasts" his hot dogs.

The night was not entirely without technology and use of our kitchen, but it was a silly success, nonetheless. (even if we didn't make the s'mores until the next evening.)

-Me

"A husband is like a fire, he goes out when unattended." -Evan Esar

Sweet Home Oregon-a

Let's play catch-up!

Last month, Glen and I headed up to Oregon, yay! My mom had what she termed a "hare-brained scheme" and pitched the idea to me of us taking my oldest niece and nephew with us, an idea that I took some time to say yes to, but I said yes nevertheless, and we had some company on our drive up and throughout the week. Actually, it was another family-filled week in Oregon, anyway, because my cousin Steve got married (hooray!), and a Kelly wedding always means LOTS of Kellys!

Highlights of the trip were:

1. The beach. We went there for the first couple of days we were around, and despite Mom's horror at the fact that it was so windy, it was a nice get-away. We made a stop in Newport and ate at the original Mo's (where glen fell in love with clam strips), walked around the waterfront shops, and stopped at a public pier to watch some locals crabbing (but not at each other, bahahahaha!!!) . The rest of the time was spent in Lincoln City, chilling out and tracking sand in the house.

2. The wedding. I was pretty excited to be in attendance at a wedding at which I was not the bride, and we had a good time with the fam. Glen had his first introduction to Kelly Brown ice cream (verdict: he preferred the dark! do i know how to pick 'em?) at Tom and Tracy's, I finally got to meet Graham, my newest nephew, who was so chill that I had a hard time relinquishing my hold on him, and the locale of Steve and Christine's reception was absolutely GORGEOUS! Out in farm/vineyard territory, and while I had a blast at my own wedding reception, I did envy them the view. (so did dad.) Congrats, you two!

3. Elephant ears at the Oregon zoo. I hadn't been to the zoo in MANY years, so I was all for making the trek there, and fortunately Glen was game. And the instant I spotted the elephant ear stand, my day was made. Of course, we went to the zoo while several of the animals were napping -- story of my life --, but it was a good walk, and we enjoyed seeing the animals that did appear.

4. Rose garden. It's a law written on my heart for me to make a stop there, and when I took Glen there last year, the weather had been so unaccommodating that the roses weren't out yet (in june!). So I needed to make up for it. This year came through. So beautiful. I love that place.

5. Seeing Kate. Because of family being around, the beach, and the wedding, I really had a lot less time than I initially thought we would to just hang out and meet up with any of my Oregon pals, but at least I saw one of them while I was there.

6. Swimming at the Silliman's. Some friends of my folks were gracious enough to allow us the use of their pool on our last afternoon, and it was just fun. The Swensons showed up, too, so we had a good time watching/participating in (megan watched, glen participated) the little competitions that sprang up once they arrived.

7. Every single person asking me how I was feeling. I made the big general facebook announcement about our little bundle of joy just a couple days before we left for Oregon, and I'm pretty certain every relative asked me how I was feeling. Dad joked that I should put my answers on a nametag: "Hello, my name is Megan, I am pregnant, and I've actually been feeling very good." But these are all people I love, and I didn't mind telling each and every one of them that I've had a pretty decent-feeling pregnancy . . . so far.

(In fact, I think the baby really enjoyed Oregon. I was feeling great the entire time we were there, and the first week we were back in Utah, I felt sick. I feel your pain, baby. Really.)

Oh, Oregon. I love you. And I miss you already.

-Me

"Home is where the heart is, so your real home's in your chest." -Captain Hammer

She's Hearing Voices

Picture this:

A group of men sit at a table in a restaurant/diner/coffee shop/some sort of eating place. The average age of these men is 77. (The oldest is 90, and the youngest is 66.) They talk about the food they'll order, the way they're going to spend or have spent their day, maybe a little bit about their jobs, family, or friends. Nothing incredibly earth-shattering is discussed; it's just a pleasant meal among friends who come and go at their leisure.

All right, that doesn't sound too interesting, huh? You probably wouldn't be tempted to eavesdrop and listen to their voices and stories.

But what if those men were Morgan Freeman, Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, Sean Connery, James Earl Jones, Christopher Lee, and Alan Rickman?

Seven men with incredibly distinctive, awesome, and dare I say it? legendary voices. Who wouldn't want to listen to them, even if it's about something as seemingly mundane as their favorite food?

I'd willingly pay to see that movie, if ever a movie there were. And not just to see them, but to LISTEN and enjoy. I could close my eyes the entire time and still be perfectly contented.

That was our dinner conversation tonight, Glen's and mine. We especially liked the idea of getting them all to sing together, but I honestly don't know how many of them can carry a tune.

 So we know Patrick Stewart can.

*others who we considered, but who probably aren't as "legendary" (or as easily parodied): Kelsey Grammer, Sean Bean, John Rhys-Davies, Anthony Hopkins, Tim Curry, Richard Armitage (the inclusion of richard is simply because i melt every time i hear him speak any of his lines in the final scene of north and south. yum).

-Me

"Actually, I think the average voice is like 70 percent tone and 30 percent noise. My voice is 95 percent noise." -Harvey Fierstein