Bryce Canyon - Celebrating the World God gave us!

This last 4th of July weekend Andy, Vienna and I took our first road trip in two years. Andy was one day pining that we might not take another road trip again as a family since Vienna is engaged and an adult and in college and all those things that so often mark the transition away from family adventures with your parents - ok I have to stop that or I'll start crying. Anyway, Andy was pining this potential loss when Vienna piped in that she was up for a road trip. So, we put our heads together and after rejecting a few destinations, came up with one we could all agree on - Bryce Canyon in Southern Utah.

Southern Utah is, in my opinion, the most beautiful region in the entire world - at least so far as I have seen. It actually gives me a feeling of true awe - not the kind of the modern vernacular of "awesome, dude" but the kind of awe you would have if you were in the presence of angels. The scenery of huge red cliffs, monoliths and buttes towering over you is completely captivating. This trip, I was completely surprised, though by the 30-mile stretch of interstate 15 that cuts across the northwest corner of Arizona. I'd never noticed how beautiful the mountains were and you seem to wind right through them with no effort at all as they surround you as you go.

Plus, I absolutely love travelling in Utah. As a Mormon that has never lived there, I just love seeing the beehives on the state road signs and knowing what they mean. I loved the time I was walking through a small Utah town and saw a shop window decorated with a tree covered in popcorn and thinking "I get that!". It's just fun.

So, Thursday night we piled into the car and started the 14-hour drive. I won't give you too much detail about the trip. You can get that on Andy's blog if you like. But, anticipating the days ahead and the hours spent together was exciting and relaxing at the same time. It wasn't always like that for me, though.

Andy, Vienna and I have been on a lot of roadtrips - almost every year since 1996. Andy has created websites or blogs about most of those (I'll put some links below). When we first started doing roadtrips, I was not a fan. In fact, I put up quite a fight for a good 10 years or so. Fighting because they were a hassle, took time out of my oh-so-exciting life of work (sensing my sarcasm?) and meant less time for me at home - and for a homebody like me that's a big deal. I felt like I was taking time away from my goals and the money we spent couldn't be spent on what I wanted for myself.

But a few years ago something changed. I'm not sure what it was but I think it went along with a lot of other changes that were happening that I won't go into here. (I'm trying to keep this post light-hearted.) Somehow I realized that my job was just a way to earn money so I could have a home and do things with my family - that is literally why I had a job at all. I started caring less about how much time I took off work - who cares if I have to take time off without pay? All that pay is for anyway is to be able to do things just like this so stop worrying about it. Once I let go of the stress of taking time off of work, the other stresses went away and I started to not only enjoy the trips, because I always enjoyed them, but started looking forward to them more and being excited for the time with my family.

Then, I started realizing all of the amazing things we have seen on the road of the magnificent country. There is literally no part of this country that isn't wonderful for one reason or another. The South has such charm, fantastic BBQ and a homey feel you don't get in other places (and I really want to explore Louisiana more - what a different culture, there!). The northeast has amazing cities, lakes and gorgeous color in the fall. The mid-west has just so many trees and things that you don't expect- like the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota. A building made of corn husks! Go figure! The northwest has vast expanses of sky and Andy's favorite landmark, Devil's Tower in Wyoming. And of course the Southwest is probably my favorite with deserts, mesas, native american food and culture, Joshua trees and Suaro cacti. Andy and I have been to every state in the lower 48 and Hawaii. And Andy's even been to Alaska - I can't wait until I can go via the Alaskan highway. How many people can say that?

And then there's the pop-culture that is always imbued in whatever locale you're in: the cowboy culture of Texas and the west, Route 66 which has probably more pop-culture icons associated with it than any other landmark in the country, the nautical theme that permeates Maine and the Northeast, and the New England states with American History represented in names, signs and businesses everywhere. And did I mention Louisiana? The French/Cajun culture is completely unique to anywhere else in the country. We truly have a great country.

I guess I've been all over the place in this post but my bottom line is this - if you haven't been out there, GET OUT THERE! Get on the road! If someplace is less than 2 days drive then don't take a plane - pack the car and go! You can't see the country from the air. You can maybe make out the plots of farm-land in different colors, but you can't see the trees and plants up close and guess what's being grown from that tiny window on the plane. If the thought of spending hour after hour in a car bores you just thinking about it, then remember that it is time with your family that you'd never have otherwise with everyone's hectic lives. You get to see so many beautiful things if you just watch out the window. A boring desert isn't boring when you contemplate what kinds of plants and animals can survive there, what it must feel like to walk through it (don't be afraid to get out and find out, either!), and the giant mountains that are coming up right in front of you.

And, there's always the opportunities to stop at the roadside diners, tourist traps and shops. Not only do they break up a long trip but you can get close to the local communities and people that make a trip memorable.

So, now when I take a roadtrip with my family, I am reminded of how grateful I am to my Father in Heaven for all that he has given us in this world - the beauty and variety, the people and my family. We really do live in a great land that has so much to see. I hope that if you haven't already, you can get out there and see it too!

Here are some of our previous roadtrips:

2009 Diner Tour

2008 Great Western Roadtrip

2008 Andy's Route 66 tour (Rt. 66 was our very first roadtrip in 1996 but it was before we started doing the websites. It is a definite MUST on the list of amazing US roadtrips)

2007 BBQ Tour

2006 Cross Country trip

2002 Hawaiian Holiday (While not fully a roadtrip, we definitely rented a car and toured the islands of Oahu and Kuai by road)

2001 President Trek (A Marathon trip when we visited a site for every President)

2000 Texas Roundup

Milk cans, doorknobs and space clocks

Last weekend was an interesting convergence of changes. As my grandma started living in a new house, I was tasked with packing up and shipping what was left in her old house of my mom’s things that I acquired after her passing four years ago. At the same time, the family is also integrating into our lives belongings of my Uncle Carl who passed away last year. From each one of these life changes, I have wanted particular items to have as remembrances of people and places –my mom, Uncle Carl and my grandma’s old house. I found it interesting to think about why we want to have physical items to help us remember people and feelings of the past.

As I sorted through my mom’s things, there were several that I felt absolutely no connection to – A couple of collectible bears wearing cute outfits, some needlepoint patterns and lots of frames after I took the pictures out. I put these in the donation pile – or even the recycle pile for things not necessarily fit to donate. But, I found several things that I didn’t want to part with, including an embroidery of a lovely poem about children that I believe my mom made, a small wooden knick-knack shelf she made and gave to my grandma when she was in middle school – this was a new discovery for me - and of course the milk can. I remember when my mom brought home the milk can when I was a young kid. She set it in the hallway near the front door to keep it “for now” until she decided where she wanted to keep it permanently. There it sat the rest of the time she lived there – more than 35 years. That was my mom to a “T”. The only time it moved was when I used it to sit on when I talked on the phone as a teenager. I would move it four feet across the little hall to just inside the doorway of the kitchen, under the rotary phone that hung on the wall long after everyone else had touch-tone phones. I would sit on that milk can for hours talking to my friends and boys I knew.

Once, when Andy was in the Navy in Spain – when we were engaged and anxiously awaiting our wedding day when we would be together forever – he called me and as I was sitting on the milk can, the call got cut off. I knew he would call right back so I waited on the milk can. It took longer than I expected, probably because of the crazy phone lines on the Navy base in Rota, so I laid my head down on the kitchen counter. Being a college-kid who also worked late at night at the local Pizza Hut, I was often very tired and so as I was waiting with my head down, I fell asleep. I don’t know how long I slept – maybe 20 minutes but when I woke up, my feet were just as asleep as I was. Stupidly, I tried to walk on them to get to my bed – NEVER try to walk if your feet are asleep! Two or three steps later, my right foot buckled under and I went down in excruciating pain. It was fractured – the only bone fracture I’ve ever had. It was years before I could wear heels again for any length of time. But, I still love that milk can. How can I get rid of something that holds such memories for me? I gladly paid to ship the 35lb rusty metal monstrosity home.

Earlier, when I was talking to my grandma about the old house, she told me that my cousin Gwen said she wanted the doorknobs from the old house. These are great old antique doorknobs and when I heard the idea, I loved it and wanted one, too! So, I silently apologized to Gwen for not letting her have all of them and decided to see what I could do to get the doorknobs out of the house – maybe to share among all the grandkids. So, after I was done packing mom’s stuff, I found the little red toolbox Grandma kept in the utility room and hadn’t brought to the new house yet and worked to learn if I could remove the old knob from the living room door and replace it with a new one. After all, I didn’t want to leave the house doorknob-less. Alas, I found that removing the knob and plate was easy but because this was an antique knob with one of those big skeleton keyholes beneath it, there was a lot of hardware embedded in the wood of the door that I could not remove – at least without destroying the wood. So we are leaving it to my Uncle Larry who is much more handy with these things and visits often. He may be able to come up with a solution to our problem. But, I’m already imagining that little shelf my mom made with the doorknob on top as one of the small mementos it will house. I really hope Uncle Larry can figure it out and I’d love to be able to send a Facebook message to all my cousins announcing that we can have doorknobs if we want to remember that great old house with.

The other item I received that weekend that is of great importance to me is an item that belonged to my Uncle Carl. He passed away last year and I expressed to Grandma that I would love to have a small something from his house to remember him by. Thursday, when I arrived at her home, Grandma gave me a space clock – a desk clock that says “Nasa – Sharing Space Technology – Kennedy Space Center” below the analog face that she found in his house. Uncle Carl was a physicist and worked for Nasa on the space shuttle for most of his life. I tell more about him in another post from last year. I love Carl as I love all my uncles and to have this small piece from his life means a lot to me. I think I’ll put it on the little shelf next to the doorknob.

But, I have been asking myself, why do we crave these things in our lives? Why do we collect these items that take up space in our homes and won’t mean anything to anyone 2 generations from now? Vienna’s grandkids won’t care if I sat on this milk can and broke my foot waiting for their great-grandfather to call from the Navy. They won’t have any memories of the house that belonged to my grandma and that I loved so dearly. And the clock will just be a clock to them – if it even still works – if Vienna even keeps it herself after I die. All these things will eventually go the way of the earth, just as we do.

I believe in the afterlife – that our spirits live on forever after we die and that we will be reunited with our loved ones who have passed on before us. I also believe that we will each have a perfect memory of all that happened to us while we were on the earth – unlike the fading and fallible memory we have now. I wonder if clinging to these things – these physical reminders – is kindof like clinging to or reaching beyond the veil that lies between this earthly life and the eternities - for the time to come when we will be with our family and friends again with a perfect beautiful memory of our lives on earth and won’t need these things anymore.

I am wondering if these things are simply for us to hold as a semblance of that joy we will have with our loved ones. Has God given us a desire for these things so that we might feel a sliver of what we will feel then and maybe have an inkling of what He has planned for us?

Well, no matter the answer to that, I love these small tokens of love, memories and life. I can’t wait to scrub, sand and paint my milkcan or hang my mom’s little shelves and on them place a doorknob, clock and other sweet mementos. I plan to cling to them until I don’t need them anymore.

My Grandma’s House

My grandma has, until recently, lived in the same house since long before I was born. It’s an old Victorian near downtown Largo, Florida that has a lot of character with a couple of unusually large bedrooms, the original hard-wood floors, antique door-knobs and built-in knick-knack shelves. It is old, creaky and drafty – not to mention hard to maintain and more difficult all the time for Grandma to maneuver because of the second story. So, despite the character, I don’t blame her for wanting something new after almost 50 years.

But, even still I am having to come to terms with the loss of this house in our family. My first memory ever was in the unusually large upstairs bedroom. I was still in a crib and just learned how to jimmy the side down and get out. I caused my young mom some frustration, I’m sure as I climbed out again and again to get into bed with her. I then remember the small toddler bed she got me with the brand new brick-colored ribbed bedspread that smelled like maple syrup. Yes, I swear it smelled like maple syrup – I have no idea why but even then I knew it was wonderful.

My great-grandmother lived just two doors down and we would often drop by to visit her. She had a great house, too with a back bedroom complete with toy box just for us little ones when we came over.

After mom and I moved into our new permanent little house in Clearwater, we still visited Grandma often – especially on the holidays. My most favorite memories of my childhood are in that old house of hers at Thanksgiving – adults at the big table, kids at the little table and lots of yummy traditional Thanksgiving foods to eat. There was turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes (lumpy and I wouldn’t have it any other way), cranberry sauce from a can, home-made dinner rolls and the pumpkin pies my mom and I would make from scratch together at home beforehand. To this day, these are my absolute favorite foods to eat and I insist on having them each year no matter what my family says. I don’t’ think I ever even asked Andy his Thanksgiving preference – there is only one meal for me at Thanksgiving. However, we have made a few changes like the homemade cranberry sauce Vienna wanted and learned how to make. This is a great addition to the wonderful traditions started in that old house.

But, it wasn’t the food that made those times so special – it was the people of my family. My uncles, Carl, Rick, Steve and Larry- my aunts, Sheila and Linda – my cousins which were few at that time – just Cliff and Teri – and of course, my mom and grandma. All these people were so special to me and I have great memories of each of them.

This is not a unique story and these are not unique people – except in the fact that they all got along. Mine was never one of those loud, obnoxious, argumentative families that make such funny and dramatic movies. The adults tended to sit around the living room sharing news of other family members with long pregnant pauses of silence, never feeling awkward but enjoying the peace of the house and the day. Only Uncle Rick would be an occasional rabble-rouser, striking up a light-hearted argument stemming from someone disagreeing with his obvious right-ness. He could irritate his siblings, for sure – especially my mom, but there would rarely be hard feelings left over.

There was also the obligatory viewing of the photo albums, an activity that I continued throughout the years. Grandma has always been faithful at keeping them current and reliving our history through them is always a treat. I remember gathering them onto the couch and flipping through the pages and enjoying the images of my mom and her brothers as children and hearing the stories that went with them.

There would of course be times of activity when grandma was cooking, setting the table and getting people to help in one way or another. Sitting around the table at dinner was much the same – family style serving and calm but interesting conversation interspersed with laughter. We kids would fool around and laugh at our little table as most kids do but never caused any real problems. But, I don’t remember even one time of drama or fighting in our family gatherings– that would be the one unique trait we have. I love my family because of that. We all loved each other and while things in our individual homes were never perfect, our times together reflected that love and caring for each other.

Through the years, things changed – branches of the family moved away, the gatherings got smaller, Grandma eventually turned the cooking over to others but the house was still there and family was always welcome anytime. As each family grew in number they would take turns staying at Grandma’s house – sometimes crowded in the back upstairs bedroom which was about the size of two living rooms so could hold all 6 of my Uncle Rick’s kids, Uncle Larry’s 3 or a combination of everyone- on the bed, in sleeping bags and on the pull-out couch-bed. Sometimes people were really crammed in there – and that’s when I loved it! When there were tons of people, it was always a blast.

Later when my cousins grew up, they started bringing their own kids to Grandma’s house, and I brought Vienna. A new generation of great-grandchildren got to know Grandma and her wonderful house. More folks lived far away, including us who moved to Georgia, Ohio and then California but there was always room at Grandma’s house and the feeling was always the same – calm, happy, peaceful – just like a home should be – a haven from the world. Often, when Andy, Vienna and I would have a harrowing adventure driving or flying across the country, we would find ourselves finally at rest in the upstairs bedrooms of Grandma’s house – hearing the crickets and birds outside but otherwise, completely quiet. This was peace. This was comfort. This was home.

I know many in the family agree that we are going to pine for those days in that old house. My cousin, Gwen has the great idea of getting all the antique doorknobs out for a keepsake. (Sorry, Gwen, Grandma told me and now I want one, too! Uncle Larry’s gonna see what he can do.) I felt that pang of sadness as I walked through the old house this weekend, taking pictures and packing up my mom’s stuff to ship home. I remembered that I used to climb the tree in the yard when I was little and thought about the locusts that used to live on the side of the house – they scared and fascinated me at the same time. But, as I got to know my grandma’s new house, I felt better.

It is perfect for her – one-story, spacious, bright, clean, much newer and has an amazing tree in the front that I want to climb one day – and she has brought all her old furniture with her which all has great memories: the pull-out couch, her lazy-boy that her kids got her years ago and fits her just right, the old wooden chairs and couch with the square cushions and of course the rocking chair – my favorite piece that as a kid I would have to relinquish to my wonderful Uncle Carl who loved it, too. And, best of all, Grandma brought the spirit of that old house with her – the peace, the comfort and the joy are all there and it was a pleasure to be there with her.

Then I realized, of course she brought that spirit with her because she is that spirit of the old house. The house had that feeling because she was there. She is calm and peaceful and happy. She taught her children to be the same and they have taught their children. And now, the new house has that spirit, too. Grandma is the matriarch of our family and wherever she goes, the spirit of our family goes no matter which house she lives in. Thank you, Grandma for creating that spirit and fostering it through the generations. I’ll miss the old house but I can love your new home, too.

For more pics of both houses check out my Facebook Albums: Grandma's Old House and Grandma's New House.

My first day on the bus to Seagate

I am commuting again. For a nice 9 years, I had a 5 minute drive to work - or a 12 minute bike ride, which was my preference. When the CEO of Seagate decided to move our headquarters more than 20 miles away and over the Santa Cruz Mountains, I thought my life was going to come to an end - at least the life that I knew. It really has taken me the full year since they announced the move to accept this change - and I don't know that I fully have, yet.

But, today as I take my first 45 minute bus ride over the slow-winding but beautiful mountain road, I have at least begun to accept some of the blessings of this extra time. Though I won't get to spend it with my husband in the evening as I would prefer, I do have a lot of great things I can accomplish with an extra hour and a half each day. Most notably, I can blog!

In church yesterday, in the women's organization (Relief Society), we had an amazing lesson by Damaris Palmer who inspired me to write in my blog and do more in the social media network to share more of myself, my beliefs and my unique life. So, I'm going to act on that inspiration, starting today by telling you of the most recent struggles of my life and how I'm coping.

I got a job at Seagate precisely because it was 5 minutes from my home. I had been working full-time in Silicon Valley, while living in Scotts Valley for a year and felt very disconnected from my home and family. I would get home at 6 or so every night and then after dinner, taking care of my daughter Vienna who was still in elementary school, and the other sundry duties, it was time for bed. The next morning it was up early, get Vienna off to school and me to work. I felt like I never had time to even get to know the new condo we had just bought. Seagate was perfect because I could get home shortly after 5 and feel like I had a life.

A year ago they announced the big move over the hill (the Santa Cruz mountains) and into Cupertino to be in Silicon Valley, as opposed to outside of it. Our CEO felt this would bolster our business position, give customers more opportunity to visit and allow for the Valley inspiration to rub off on us. I just saw it as one more way this big corporation didn't care about me, my family or my fellow workers and I held a grudge.

I will say, that my work did not suffer - even though I was tempted to really slack off. I love the team I work with and would never slight them because of my disgruntled-ness. They deserve my best.

Now I'm on the bus, resigned to my fate and looking for the opportunities this situation presents me. My attitude, though not perfect, has improved and I am willing to give this a chance before putting in my resume to the company that has made an offer to buy the old Seagate buildings. Some of the productive things I can do now with this time?

• Write in my blog! - Ta Da!
• Read my Scriptures
• Practice my piano using a roll-up portable keyboard I'm hoping my best friend will get me for my birthday. ;-)
• Keep up with my friends on FB and share my insights with them
• Write to my dear friend who is in prison
• Catch up on reading all the books Vienna's always wanted me to read
• Work on writing grants - my latest endeavor to create income that will let me work from home.

So, maybe this commute thing won't be so bad. My optimistic nature tells me it will be alright and may even provide some valuable growth for me. I know that God doesn't give me anything I can't handle and every trial He's ever put in my life has eventually been for my own good - like any good father would do. It's now up to me to find that growth and benefit in this latest struggle.

I helped bury my Uncle Carl - literally.

My Uncle Carl passed away a couple of weeks ago - he was a rocket scientist. We in his family really didn't know a lot about his life in the last couple of decades because he was a quiet humble man and lived a bit more secluded than the rest of us. He worked for NASA at the Kennedy Space Center in Titusville, Florida, and he loved it. He worked on the space shuttle project for many years and was also very good at what he did, winning several awards and patents that we didn't know much about. Like I said, he was humble and didn't call to tell us about these, except for one - the Silver Snoopy award. This picture is him at his award ceremony when he won this award, and it was a very prestigious award, only given to maybe one person a year working for NASA. This one he was proud of.

Yesterday, Andy and I flew to Florida for his small, casual memorial. We took the red-eye from California so were both a bit bedraggled when we went straight from the airport to the church, stopping only at the rental car place to pick up the car and change. We looked none the worse for the wear, though, and when we arrived we were met by family members we hadn't seen for a long time.

The memorial was beautiful and, as you probably know from other recent writings, I love a good funeral. The spirit was strong in the room as family members remembered Carl and his eccentricities. As a child, he was a voracious reader, spending hours on his own at the expense of many other things, chores for one. I also learned from grandma that he would make the most intricate paper airplanes, and they would always fly. Teachers would complain that he wasn't paying attention in class and grandma knew it was because his head was in the sky with the airplanes. He was eccentric but also quite brilliant as those who knew him best figured out, quickly.

In the Air Force, during Vietnam, Carl wanted to be a pilot but a chronic sinus condition kept him from the cockpit. Instead, he painted the birds, teaching him more about how to care for their surface, which involved a lot more than painting. This eventually led him through school as a physicist and then to working at NASA on the space shuttle. One of his patents was for a particle detector for the outside of the shuttle, which they used to learn about what the shuttle brought back on its surface. Nothing left earth or came back without going through Carl's clean lab. And, while rheumatoid arthritis withered and deteriorated his body, his mind was always sharp and in the sky.

We had lovely music at the memorial as well, and a great display of pictures and awards that wouldn't even scratch the surface of the life of this man. Afterward, we visited with each other telling stories and remembering him fondly. Through the day the family kept making rocket scientist jokes in his honor - "it doesn't take a rocket scientist" and "well, she's not a rocket scientist." Personally, I remember one joke he always told about higher education (being a perpetual student, he had a particular awareness), saying a BS degree was just that - b.s. An MS degree was just More of the Same, and a PhD was just Piling it Higher and Deeper. He always had this same droll sense of humor that runs in my family (though I am sure it skipped me).

Shortly after the memorial is when the big event happened for me. Uncle Rick had secured a permit, and we were going to bury Uncle Carl's urn of ashes ourselves. I had never thought I would be able to actually help dig a grave and most of the family was surprised when I chimed in that I wanted to help dig. But what a great way to serve my uncle in some small way one last time - and I'd never had much of a chance to serve him during his life anyway, so I wasn't going to pass this up.

We met out at the local cemetery, after changing into more proper digging clothes, and at the foot of my mom's grave we broke the ground as Uncle Rick hopped onto the new shovel, acquired just for this occasion. Rick is the more down to earth, preferring to work with his hands, so he led the way on the digging. Of course, the other brothers, Larry and Steve would make some joke here about leaving it to him to take the lead, alluding to his more overbearing personality. The boys jab each other often about each other's quirks - always in fun, and I've never seen it go negative. I have a great family.

Anyway, after Rick had a few turns at moving dirt, he handed the shovel to me, reminding me not to break the sides down and to put the dirt in the depression at the foot of mom's grave. That way when we were done, the excess dirt would help to even out the ground right there. He's always thinking of these kinds of things. The hole he began was a perfect rectangle, and he cut the sod with the flat-edged shovel into four perfect rectangles and removed them carefully, stacking them to the side and not where the dirt was going to go. He does this as if it's common sense, but it was new to me.

I enjoyed my turn at digging and gave the shovel over to Uncle Larry who took a turn. I took over his camera to take pictures and we all stood around making jokes and laughing. What a wonderful way to spend an occasion that most would think dreary or morbid. Uncle Carl is a practical man, never caring what happened to his belongings after he died - he didn't even have a will. Being practical, we knew he wouldn't want us standing around crying and mourning his loss - what use would that be? Plus, we all understand that this is more of a happy occasion for him as he is now free of the arthritis that plagued his body and his life.

The stately wooden cubicle urn, holding Carl's ashes, was put into its vault, which Rick had painted green. Why, he asked us, did he paint it green? Well, because that was his "marking color" when he was a kid. Grandma marked their underwear, socks and even kitchen cups with their colors so no one would get them mixed up - and they could keep using the same cup all day. Carl was green, Larry was blue, Steve was red, and Rick was purple. Ok, now we know what colors the other vaults need to be painted!

Using a long string, Rick and Larry lowered the vault into the hole, and then we carefully placed the dirt back in - around the sides of the vault first and then on top. Larry did the job of packing down the dirt because, as Rick said, "he had the girth." Rick carefully put the four cut squares of sod back on top of the very neatly square hole, now filled with dirt, and packed it down one more time. The leftover dirt was spread evenly over mom's grave as planned.

Then Rick said a prayer to dedicate the gravesite, a special ordinance in our church meant to protect it and its sacred contents. It is now holy ground.

The rest of the day, we spent as a family at grandma's house - our favorite gathering place. It is here that we all feel peace and love together. We conversed, joked, poured through old photo albums, especially those found at Carl's house, and played with Jennie Mae, my cousin Alina's 7-month old. She helps to remind us all of the cycle that keeps going. One person leaves this earth, another comes - all part of God's great plan of happiness.

We love Carl and will miss him greatly, but we all know he will be there after this life and for now we can celebrate him, grow in our love for each other, and feel God's spirit closer than ever as the veil between this world and the next is thin. These are the times that make life so special and worth living.

Person-hood granted to corps but still not to some humans

When I realized this, I just thought "How DARE they". They have granted person-hood status and rights to corporations, but are still denying them to unborn humans. This is just inconceivable to me!

There has been a long-standing debate about whether a fetus is a living human or not and therefore whether or not they should have actual human rights - such as the right to life. But now, according to the Supreme Court who just last week granted free speech rights to corporations, these entities have a status higher than that of fetuses.

The debate is still being waged about the unborn being human but certainly there can be no debate that they are more human than corporations. Let's make a few comparisons, but first we must remember that a corporation is not the people that run the corporation - it is simply an entity created in the ether.

1. Physical attributes - Human fetuses have human DNA, unique and distinct from their parents. How about the corporation? Does it even have DNA? Human fetuses also have heartbeats, blood, organs, a brain, and senses while corporations have none of these things - they don't resemble humans in any way. Yet, somehow they have the right to free speech? Wait, where are their mouths? Oh yeah - they don't have them so their "speech" is actually money - at least according to the Court.

2. Life - Even at the earliest stages, a zygote multiplies its cells, takes nutrients from her mother and grows. One could argue that a corporation has life - that it grows, it feeds off of its employees and managers and that it multiplies (just take a look at any corporate hierarchy - there can be TONS of entities bred by the original) - but the corporation could do none of these things without the humans running it. Sure, the argument here is that without the mother, the fetus dies - but eventually, she can live on her own - this can never happen with a corporation. I think this is the definition of parasite, isn't it?

3. Potential - Corporations have some potential - to grow, and make money. But a human fetus has so much more potential than that. A human fetus will one day feel pain, love others, taste great meals, serve those around him, LEARN! These things make us truly human and add art, music, science and spirituality to the world. Corporations? No.

Last Friday, January 22nd was the 37th anniversary of another Supreme Court decision that took away a fundamental right from this underrepresented group of people. Roe vs. Wade is now famous, or as I see it notorious. It was bad enough that the court ruled that one set of humans' right to live should be supplanted by another group's right to choose (really right to privacy). Though we continue this debate, now and obviously I disagree with that decision in 1973, at least we were favoring humans over other humans. At least there is some debate.

But this decision last week just adds insult to injury. Even in the face of all of the scientific evidence, humanity continues to deny basic rights to this vulnerable group of people who are completely subject to our will. While we have been tasked in this life to nurture and care for our children, this has been denied to the youngest and weakest of them, yet we are content to allow (or at least remain quiet about allowing) the court to give basic human rights to something not remotely human.

Wake up, everyone - if this isn't turning wrong into right - what is?

Corporations are now human? Really??

Rarely, do I get so incensed by something political that is not a moral issue for me. But, yesterday, I was struck dumbfounded by the Supreme Court's decision to grant rights of free speech to corporations, by allowing them to now give freely and with virtually no limits to political campaigns. This is just another piece of evidence that the adversary is convincing us that right is wrong and wrong is right! Our world is being turned upside down, and it's happening right in front of us.

Of course my first and biggest argument is that these entities are not people. They don't have DNA - they are just signatures on paper. They have only one purpose - to make and increase profits. And, of themselves, they have no conscience. Individuals may act in selfish ways and some may seem to not have a conscience but corporate entities, by their very nature, are solely self-serving and have no feelings telling them right from wrong.

You may say that because these entities are created and run by people that they must have similar characteristics, and the people running them have consciences, so they have the ability to choose to act for good or bad. But, I believe that when acting on behalf of a corporation the saying is true: "it's just business," and that justifies many evils that will protect the corporation, and thus the corporation protects the people making the decisions. Managers at companies are beholden to the stockholders and boards of directors and, unless they are willing to lose their jobs and the high salaries and bonuses that go along with them, they have no choice but to do whatever they can to increase profits.

Now, I need to be careful here because I work for a corporation. And, I have to say that I actually very much like and admire my particular corporation and its executives. Yes, I can hear you say it under your breath - "brown noser!" - but it's true. I know a few of these people, personally and they are good, honest people, and I believe they run this corporation on as high of a moral ground as they possibly can. But, the nature of the beast still insists that they make money for the company, literally putting every other ideal second.

My point is that people are people - they have votes, consciences and true abilities to serve, while corporations do not. Granted, that now the flood gates have been opened, I am sure corporations will buy enough politicians so that possibly they can have votes one day. And maybe this will lead to religious organizations and other tabooed entities having the ability to give to their political causes with impunity.

So, the consequences of yesterday's decision are dire. I had to agree with Keith Olberman, last night (WHAT??). He compared this decision to the Dred Scott decision, which led us to civil war. I think he has a good point. Here's part 1 of his rant, which also gives his forecast of our future: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72ZwG5vQ_04

This world is about people and we have just given it over to corporations. Yes, they already had their roundabout ways of contributing through 501cs and covert loophole jumping but now the court has given them permission to take over our world.

One last point of evidence that this act by the court is wrong, wrong wrong! (I will expound on this more another time.) Now these non-human, paper entities have actual human rights, while unborn humans, with true human DNA, do not even have the right to live. Again we have been convinced that right is wrong and wrong is right. The adversary is at work here folks - don't be fooled by the politics of the day.

For more on this - see my hubby Andy's blog where he makes very astute comparisons. He's a much better writer, too! http://woodlandshoppersparadise.blogspot.com/2010/01/we-made-it-can-we-unmake-it.html