Giving Thanks for Turkeys Tasted and Time... Wasted?

Brazilian author Paulo Coelho once Tweeted: "If you are wasting time and enjoying, you are not wasting time."

Smiling at such a philosophy, I thought about the times just hanging out with friends or family, watching a game or a movie, seemingly doing nothing - even "wasting time" according to some - but enjoying ourselves nonetheless, and I nodded my head in agreement with Paulo.

I was happy to spend Thanksgiving with the family in Arizona. I really do have an incredible family and some great friends back there. It was also nice to go back to some of the incredible eateries that I miss: including Pizzeria Bianco, Popo's, The Habit Burgers, Patsy Grimaldi's, and - since there are none in Austin, TX area - Inn&Out Burger!

Central Phoenix appears to be gaining even more momentum in promoting and establishing small businesses, and that is crucial for revitalizing the downtown area and establishing more pride and personality within and for the city and the state, as well as helping the overall local economy to recover.

Earlier in 2011, the dam at Tempe Town Lake burst and the water drained out from the lake. While repairs were being made, Tempe decided to build a pedestrian bridge upon the dam's already prominent footprints and create another passage over the lake for foot and bicycle traffic without cluttering the waterway with an overabundance of bridges. I was excited to stop by and visit the structure, mostly because I enjoy the Pfluger Pedestrian Bridge over Lady Bird Lake (also locally known as "Town Lake") in Austin. It's such a great addition to the area and offers a safe crossing and destination for pedestrians to more fully enjoy the area's attractions. I hope that the Tempe Pedestrian Bridge does the exact same thing for Tempe and the Phoenix area that the Pfluger Bridge does for Austin.

(Pluger Pedestrian Bridge)

(Tempe Pedestrian Bridge)

 

Like most of us, whenever Thanksgiving rolls around I try to reflect on those things I'm most grateful for and count my blessings. The blessing that has been foremost on my mind this year is often considered the one thing most valuable, most precious, most important: TIME. Time to spend with those I love. Time to recover from ailments, tragedies, setbacks and afflictions. Time to enjoy the beauties of nature and the energy of community. Time to grow, plan, learn, develop, and better oneself. Time to share and love. Time to live.

We are all allotted a certain amount of time in life, and how we choose to use that time really makes us who we are. Recently a movie entitled In Time came out about a futuristic world where time is the currency. It stars Justin Timberlake and Amanda Seyfried. At the time of this writing I have not seen the movie, nor does it really call out to me to see it, but I was intrigued by the premise emphasizing the unparalleled value of time. In the movie the poor spend every moment scrambling to get as much done as they can and frantically working to earn more time before their small amount of life"time" expires.

I also happened upon the music video for Nickelback's "Savin' Me", which - truth be told - the only Nickelback song that I can really stomach. In fact, I'll admit that I like the song, but only after I saw the video. I'm not sure how much the story in the video actually correlates with the lyrics of the song, but it underscores again the importance of the time allotment everyone has in this mortal existence - and that perhaps some die before their time, sometimes perhaps due to the acts of of others; conversely, some are also afforded more time due perhaps in part to the acts of their fellow man(?). One particular scene I liked it where he looks into the reflected glass, and he realizes that he is able to see how much time is left for everyone else's lives, but not his own. Anyway, I found the video interesting and entertaining.

Time back home for Thanksgiving was spent visiting with friends and family, seeing the sights and taking in the beautiful weather and scenery of my home state. We got a great deal on some turkeys at Safeway, and while we were there we secretly attached an "Over the Hill"  balloon to Mom while grocery shopping.

 I was happy to try my hand at smoking a Thanksgiving turkey in the smoker Mom had bought for me a few years ago, which was too large to take with me to Texas. So I was happy to fire it up and threw some hickory chips in it which produced a tender and delicious bird of plenty for all to enjoy.

Thanksgiving dinner was an incredible feast, and we remembered how grateful we were to have such nice food to eat and enjoy, and to have each other. I thanked God for those special times spent with loved ones, even those times when we just sat around doing nothing. ...Doing nothing? ...Wasting time? Nay, we enjoyed every minute of it. No time wasted at all.  Thanks, er... obrigado, Paulo.

The Matriarch

My late Grandma Vera Porter Bigler has been on my mind lately. Perhaps it's because it's been two years since she passed away; or perhaps it's because I recently received a correspondence from my Uncle Cleon Bigler and my Aunt Laura Clifford regarding the family trust established by my Grandpa and Grandma Bigler. Whatever the reason may be, I have been thinking of my dear grandma.

Grandma Bigler was the quintessential grandmother; she looked the part, and when she spoke she sounded like a loving grandma with a sweet and sincere voice filled with wisdom, love, concern, and experience all rolled into one. Having lived in the small town of Heber, AZ for nearly her entire life, she was a well known member of the community and was referred to as Aunt Vera, whether she was a relative or not. Heber was small enough that there was a pretty good chance that she WAS your relative aunt though. She had been a widow since Grandpa Laureld Bigler passed away in November of 1996, and she had mentioned more than a couple times in her final years how she missed him and was ready to be with him in heaven.

The last couple years of her life were spent living with Uncle Cleon and his wife Penny in Washington state. She missed her Heber home, but they were able to watch over her as she bravely faced the physical challenges of knee surgery and breast cancer and other ailments. I got to see her at the Bigler reunion in Snowflake, AZ in 2009, and it was nice to sit and talk with her, hold her hand, and share some stories and laughs. She was very weak and that sweet voice was so quiet. I had to concentrate really hard to understand what she was saying. We said our goodbyes that day. She went back up to Washington after the reunion for a short time. Her health began to fade and she really wanted to return to Heber, so Cleon and Penny brought her back to Heber to live out her days. These days were shorter than most had thought, for once she was made the journey back to her beloved mountain home, her time had come to return to her heavenly home. She was ready.

A call came and we were told that she would soon pass away. Loved ones were gathering in Heber to say their goodbyes. My brother Spencer and I talked about how we had basically already said our goodbyes to Grandma at the reunion, but for some reason we thought it was important to go anyway, and we decided to make the trip up north from Phoenix to Heber. Jenny also made the trip with her kids.

When Spencer and I arrived, all of Grandma's children were there save for Aunt Laura, who was hurrying to arrive from Colorado. Grandma, herself, was resting deeply in the front room. Her health had completely left her and at that time was moments away from passing on. I sat next to her and held her hand and once again said a tearful goodbye, gave her my love, and thanked her for all she had done for me, my Dad, and my brothers and sisters. She did not wake but kept resting. In the other room we all sat and reminisced, shared stories, and made arrangements as to what needed to happen after she passed. A funeral program was drafted and assignments made.

We then felt the time was very near and we wanted to give Grandma a final Priesthood blessing before she died. We wanted to wait for Laura to arrive, but time was very short. Uncle Keith was given the honor and proceeded to pronounce a final Priesthood blessing on his mother, our grandmother. What transpired during that blessing will forever be kept in my heart as one of the greatest spiritual experiences of my life. He relayed to her the love of the Savior toward her, His delight in her tireless lifelong service, the incredible heritage she established for her posterity, among other great blessings. He then told her that it was OK to move on, that is was OK for her to go and blessed her to be at peace and be able to move on; and IMMEDIATELY following this pronouncement, Vera Porter Bigler let out her final breath, bidding farewell to this mortal life and beginning her eternal life hereafter. It is difficult to describe the incredible feeling in the room at that time. I can only witness that there are moments when the veil between this mortal realm and the spirit world is so very thin. There were many others with us in that room that day - familiar relative spirits, angels, joining us in our farewell... or more accurately... gathering for a joyful homecoming to welcome home the matriarch on the other side.

Following the blessing and this very powerful event we all embraced and shared the moment with tears of awe and gratitude. Spencer, Jenny and I shared a special moment and embraced as well. We then made the call to Kenny in Indiana to let him know, and recounted the experience with him. Aunt Laura arrived about an hour after Grandma passed away, but she was able to spend some moments next to her and we were able to grieve alongside her.

The funeral was that Saturday. The company Jenny worked for owns a wonderful cabin in the nearby community of Overgaard where we stayed that weekend. With so much extended family in town for the funeral, it was nice to have an additional place to stay.

At the church, the entire family gathered in a room outside of the chapel, and what a sight that was! Standing room only practically. Grandma's posterity had filled the room to overflowing, and there was many a happy reunion despite the occasion. Uncle Keith was able to say a few words and convey in all soberness and love the events that transpired earlier in the week. That same Spirit from that day returned to the room in which we were now all gathered, and we knew we felt blessed to be counted among her descendants.

The program was simple and beautiful. They asked Jenny to say a few words and she did a fantastic job. Our cousin Alissa also gave an emotional talk. Grandma was an accomplished pianist and accompanist. A year or two prior it was arranged for her to go to a recording studio and capture her craft as she played some of her favorite songs and hymns. The resulting CD was given as a gift to her posterity that same Christmas. During Alissa's words, she referenced the CD and played an excerpt: "God Be With Til We Meet Again". Grandma's spirit filled the chapel as her music spoke for her, bidding us all farewell for now. The chords resonated within the hearts of all who knew and loved her, and the tears came. What a wonderful spirit there was there in that moment. If someone were to have the ability to say goodbye and bear their testimony at their OWN funeral, then that was about as close as one could get.

Grandma always enjoyed having Spencer and I sing - whether we enjoyed it or not - and the invitation was extended once again, to which we were honored to accept, and Martha accompanied us as we sang the hymn "Nearer, My God, to Thee". I enjoy singing with my brother, who has an incredible voice. We did our best to make Grandma proud, but emotions did get the best of us at the end of the last verse after we sang the words, "Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee" and our thoughts remembered the angels that arrived to beckon our Grandma home to God earlier that week.

We laid her to rest at her husband's side in the Heber cemetery. The graveside dedication service was beautiful, and we visited with loved ones for awhile before leaving the site; but not before saying hello to our dad and sister, and our niece and cousin buried nearby in the same mountainside cemetery.

Later on we cleaned up the cabin and stopped by Casa Ramos, a favorite Mexican restaurant, to eat before leaving for Phoenix after a special and memorable day and week.  And we happened to see Aunt Laura and her family there and said are goodbyes as we all prepared to return to our distant homes. I always found it fascinating that, even with the very large number of Grandma's descendants, the bond among them all is very strong throughout.

I wrote the poem below on Easter Sunday of last year as my mind was on the Easter theme of resurrection and on memories of the dearly departed. I was reflecting on Grandma Bigler's last hours and the miracles we witnessed that week, from her passing in her front room guided by Priesthood power, with dearly departed angel ancestors all around us. What an incredible experience that was! It was truly a special week that I will remember always. The more we spoke to family and friends at that time, the more people witnessed of strange and wonderful experiences that week... a gathering of family on both sides of the veil to bid her farewell on our side and to welcome her home on the other. I may share some of those experiences and stories at a later date. It was a very special week.

"Vera"

by Preston Bigler

(Easter Sunday 4/4/2010, Mesa, AZ)

an aged vessel, years caressed

a final breath from a tired chest

and 'midst the strength of Priesthood blessed

ancestors beckoned you to rest

and welcomed home the matriarch

sons and daughters gathered in

ten from you,'hundred eight from them

bade you farewell with friends and kin

and share that love you shared with them

the legacy of the matriarch

laid to rest 'neath towering pine

upon the peaceful mountainside

loving sons resting nearby

in welcomed spot at husband's side

lays the loving matriarch

and angel choirs sing refrains

of blessings giv'n to faithful saints

of glories to the Savior's name

their voices sound the hymns of praise

accompanied by the matriarch

and every time I hear the hymn,

"God Be With You til We Meet Again"

I'll think of you and smile within

and hear your witness born therein

the witness of the matriarch

and long for that time we meet again

dear friend, mother, matriarch

It Was an OK Trip

Work sent me to Oklahoma...

Oklahoma City, to be exact, for all day meetings involving new software I need to learn. This would mark my first journey to the "Sooner State". Or is it the "Prairie State"? Or is it "Native America", as their license plates read? I wasn't sure. Granted, there is a tremendous Native American history there, and many people know about the Sooners claiming their plots of land before they could legally do so during the great land rush. But the city of Oklahoma City itself didn't make much of an impression on me. Yeah, there's an NBA team located there, but as a visitor to Oklahoma's capital, I found it almost lacking its own true identity. This kinda bugged me. ...More on that later.

Regardless, I was still excited to go. I'm always excited to travel for work; and when it involves some place new, well then that's just frosting on a traveling cake. My boss and two coworkers also made the trip. They returned the following day, but I decided to spend the weekend and get to know the place a little better.

After arriving on a Thursday evening, we sought out a local eatery for dinner. We ended up at a German restaurant that had some great schnitzel and bratwurst. Sehr gut!

The next day I woke up early and loaded my belongings into the rental car and waited for the others. The sun hadn't come up yet, but the sky was brightening in anticipation of the rising sun. The air was crisp and chilly and felt great! As I was walking to the car I couldn't help but sing quietly, "Oh What a Beautiful Morning!" from Oklahoma!

After the meetings, I dropped off everyone at the airport and began my 2 day exploration of Oklahoma.


Muskogee, OK, USA

One thing kept coming back to mind... and it was a song, of course. Merle Haggard's "Okie From Muskogee" echoed enough between my ears that I had to go visit the town nestled about 1 1/2 hours east of OKC.

I was impressed with Muskogee. A bit larger than I thought, it had a certain charm to it. Some great architecture in the buildings around town, including many nice residences. I sought out the courthouse and asked a couple locals if they wouldn't mind taking my picture. They obliged ( I noted that neither one "let their hair grow long and shaggy"). But I was able to verify in person that "they still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse (by golly)".

I had a couple sodas during the drive, so after I finished my photo shoot at the courthouse, I was proud to stop and go pee in Muskogee. At the truck stop I was somewhat disappointed to find that there were no Muskogee souvenirs though. Apparently I was a lone tourist at this destination.

As I drove away, I pointed to the horizon and yelled "Look! White lightening" and, sure enough, everyone went absolutely berserk!* Kinda like the scene from "ELF" when Buddy the Elf hears that Santa is coming.

(*ok, that didn't really happen)


Norman

Before the Oklahoma Sooners football team kicked off against the Texas Tech Red Raiders, I ventured into the college city of Norman, OK - home of Oklahoma University and the Sooners, who at the time were undeafeated and heavily favored to beat Tech.

I drove around the campus and explored the streets which also had a great deal of charm and personality. The place was very nice and I liked it quite a bit. I stopped by Van's Pig Stand on Porter road near campus and partook of some tasty vittles of Oklahoma BBQ. The sauce they had was VERY good, and the brisket and sausage were delectable; but I must be honest and say that the BBQ in Central-East Texas is better.

The Norman crowds and stormin' clouds were both gathering quickly, and I decided to head back to OKC before it became too hectic. Rain and lightening crashed down hard a short time later and delayed the game by nearly two hours; but when the skies cleared, the Red Raiders surprised the Sooners and handed them their first defeat of the season.


Oklahoma City

Back in Oklahoma City, a looming question persisted. I wanted to figure out what makes OKC, and Oklahoma in general, tick.

There's no distinguishing landmark in Oklahoma City - no Times Square or Statue of Liberty, no Space Needle, no Sears Tower or Golden Gate Bridge; there's no Bourbon Street, no Gas Lamp District, no Capitol Mall. There's no dramatic natural presence of sandy beaches or majestic snow capped mountain vistas; yet the OKC metro area has a population of close to 1.3 million and growing. They're doing something right in Oklahoma and it keeps drawing more people to the place. I was curious to find out why.

I made it a point to visit the Oklahoma City National Memorial. Now, I don't want to say that I forgot about that horrific day, when so many innocent people were killed by an act of domestic terrorism, because i hadn't; but for some reason my brain wasn't correlating the event with the place. And I felt bad about that lapse. The grounds at the memorial where beautiful and solemn. And I wasn't really prepared for what I would see there, but I'm very grateful that I made the time to stop and visit and remember. So many lives were lost in an instant because of the acts of just a couple people. And so many of the victims were little children.

The memorial visitor center has a self-lead tour that begins every 5 minutes when a door opens and you enter what is laid out to be a conference room in the federal building, wherein there is a partial conference table, cut off at an angle by the opposite wall. On the conference table is a phone, and there are chairs around the table. Those on the tour are told that what they're about to hear is an actual recording from the day of the bombing. It is the official record of a hearing, and a woman's voice is reading the minutes and summarizing the agenda. (If you've ever been in such a meeting, it is all so very normal.)

The woman's voice continues outlining the details of the hearing at hand when suddenly there is an incredible explosion... and chaos ensues, and amid the terrible sounds of destruction, you can discern the lady's voice frantically urging everyone to get out, get out as quick as they can. And at that very moment on the tour, at the opposite end of the room another door opens and you proceed into an area which exhibits the resulting destruction. It is powerful and moving, upsetting and heart-rending.

Most disturbing is the scene of destruction involving the day care on the 2nd floor where so many small and innocent children were killed. "The Field of Empty Chairs" occupies a green lawn in the footprint where the Murrah Building once stood wherein sits a chair for each bombing victim, all of them arranged in rows correlating to the floor they were on when they died. And on the second row there is a line of small chairs for the children, which appear as if to float in the air during the day and whose bases light up at night.

On the other side of the reflecting pool stands a large 100 yr old American Elm, which withstood the blast and was dubbed the "Survivor Tree". It became a symbol of the faith and resilience of the people of Oklahoma City and those who came to their aid in their time of need. An inscription around the inner wall of the Survivor Tree monument reads: The spirit of this city and this nation will not be defeated; our deeply rooted faith sustains us.

Now I understood.

Until then Oklahoma City seemed like about any other city dotting the Great Plains, nothing really made it stand out. But then I realized that it was a poster city for middle America - the Heartland. In it resided deep-rooted faith, a sense of community, brotherly kindness, family, charity, resourcefulness, integrity, hard work, perseverance and hope.

I guess one could say these same values and traits can be found in any other middle America city; whether it be in Des Moines, Kansas City, Omaha, Tulsa, Amarillo... or any other city in "fly-over country". And that may be true. But now I understood the draw to these places; why people move to these places, and stay; why such places play such an integral part in representing what is good about this country, and how it would be well for every part of the U.S. to exude that same American Spirit that is so prominent in Middle America. The amber waves of grain are in good hands.

Woodja? Wontcha? Couldja? Canya?

This has been the hottest summer on record for Austin, TX, but finally this week Fall swept in from the North and cooled down the self-proclaimed "Live Music Capital of the World". And speaking of live music, the cooler weather has brought the bands outside to patios and open air venues throughout the city; and with the windows now open, you can hear music all around central Austin. This has always been a wonderful and enjoyable characteristic of my new Texas home.

My east Texas, Mississippi, and Louisiana friends have introduced me to some great new bands, and I have become enamored with the sounds of the South: blues country, southern rock, delta blues, bluegrass, and hippie folk melodies.

The band I went to see tonight (Reverend Peyton's Big Damn Band) has become one of my favorites, despite their name. They have a folky, blues rock sound with ample fingerstyle slide guitar. They are lead by Reverend Peyton on guitar and sometimes harmonica. (And tonight he busted out a homemade three string guitar contraption made from an old cigar box which sounded incredible.)

The Rev sports an epic beard which became the envy of many an Austin hippie at the show. The beard is intimidating, but its owner is a friendly and animated performer. At his side is his wife, "Washboard Breezy", who plays - you guessed it - a washboard. And although she didn't do it tonight, she is known to burn the washboard at the end of the show. The Rev's cousin in on the drums, which include an upside-down white 5-gallon bucket, of course. The three of them simply tear it up and produce a wall of sound that can really get a crowd going. It was quite the experience tonight. They were a LOAD OF FUN to watch.

Though their sound is very southern, they all hail from a different latitude: the great state of Indiana. One song of theirs I particularly enjoy is entitled "Persimmon Song" which is all about their love for and yearning to return to Indiana. Of course, with the mention of the Hoosier state, I automatically think of my brother and his family in Indianapolis (whom we lovingly refer to as the "Indy Bigs"). When I hear the Rev's music - particularly this song - and the lyrics referring to things Indiana, I can't help but think of them and wonder if they relate. And for this reason I want to share in my blog the persimmon song.

It's oftimes hard to understand the good Reverend, so I'm including the lyrics below. Singalong if you'd like.



Persimmon Song

Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana
Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana

Persimmon, Persimmon, Persimmon Pudding and Hoosier women
Persimmon, Persimmon, Persimmon Pudding and Hoosier women

Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana
Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana

Fried biscuits, fried biscuits, apple butter oh how I miss it
Fried biscuits, fried biscuits, apple butter oh how I miss it

Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana
Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana

Giant Fried, Giant Fried, Giant Fried Tenderloin
Giant Fried, Giant Fried, Giant Fried Tenderloin

Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana
Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana

Persimmon, Persimmon, Persimmon Pudding and Hoosier women
Persimmon, Persimmon, Persimmon Pudding and Hoosier women

Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana
Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana
Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana
Woodja wontcha couldja canya take me back to Indiana

====
I love songs that convey a sense of place, songs that tell a story, and... apparently songs that mention food. The Persimmon Song pulls off a hat trick in this respect.

After meeting the band afterwards, I bought a CD... which I did for a couple of reasons: 1) to support their music, and 2) to hopefully find a printed sleeve inside the CD which contains lyrics to their songs so I can figure out just what in the world they're saying in their songs, since the Rev's so hard to understand. I was happy to see that their lyrics are relatively clean, and I recall that they didn't use profanity in their live show either, which was refreshing.

One bonus feature within the CD sleeve was none other than the Peyton family recipe for Persimmon Pudding, which they say won the blue ribbon for best persimmon pudding one year at the Persimmon Festival in Lawrence County, Indiana.

***
The Peyton Family Persimmon Pudding Recipe

2 cups of Persimmon Pulp
2 cups of sugar
2 eggs
2 cups of flour
2 cups of buttermilk
1 tsp salt
1 tsp of soda
1 tsp of cinnamon
1/4 pound of butter

Mix first three ingredients together. Add salt, soda, and cinnamon to flour. Add flour and buttermilk alternately. Melt butter in pan and add to mixture. Bake in a 325 degree oven for 90 minutes. Will fall.
***

I mentioned before how there's always a song rattlin' around up in my noggin', so I'm compelled to share with you from time to time those that I enjoy. Allow me to close this post with a second helping of The Reverend Peyton. This was a fun number that got the whole crowd involved tonight. The video shows people from all walks, dancing along to a tune that really gets moving at times; and it should be mentioned that everyone in the video is from Indiana, who all pitched in to help the band make the video. I hope you enjoy too.

Undimmed By Human Tears

The tenth anniversary of 9/11 was an emotion-stirring time. Seeing the images and hearing the stories from that fateful day brought back the flood of emotions that enveloped so many Americans. They all came back: the shock and horror, the tears of sadness and frustration, the clenched fists and gritted teeth of anger, the outstretched hand of support for our neighbors and unity with our fellow citizens.

I remember writing in my journal that night and unleashing the anger and frustration directed at the those who carried out the cowardly orders given by Osama bin Laden - a child of hell now feeding fish in Poseidon's abyss. (There is still some anger.) The images of that day are burned in our minds. We saw the worst of humanity on display by instruments of evil and destruction; but what transpired after that day represented the best of humanity.  Kindness, support, brotherhood, charity, unity, and unbridled patriotism abounded. The country was profoundly UNITED in every sense of the word.

In the third verse of the patriotic Hymn, "America The Beautiful" I thought of the heroes on Flight 93, who fought the terrorists and gave their own lives to keep the plane from reaching its target and hurting more of their fellow countrymen. They are proven heroes, who loved their country and protected their fellow countrymen in an ultimate act of courage and mercy.

Much has transpired in the ten years since the towers fell and we lost so many of our compatriots there and in the field in Pennsylvania and at the Pentagon.  We have not been as united as we were immediately following the attacks. Politics are polarized, and there are many flaws that need mending, but they can be mended. This anniversary helped us to not only remember those we lost, but to reflect on how were then, how we are now, and make a new commitment to be united again.

Some call September 11th one of America's darkest days. Any American who experienced it would definitely agree. And many would also agree that September 12th and the many months that followed was some of America's brightest. We would do well to return to the mindset of 9/12/2011.

Despite what is shown sometimes on the nightly news, I remain optimistic that the country will be united and continue to be a leader and example of good for the world. The world is a better place with a benevolent superpower united in the cause of freedom, liberty, and human rights.

The picture below reminded me of the 4th verse of that same patriotic hymn. Despite the tears shed and destruction caused on that day, America's largest city still gleams like a beacon of hope for a better life and bright future for its own citizens and to those of the world abroad who also cherish freedom.

         America, The Beautiful

O beautiful for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties

Above the fruited plain!

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

 

O beautiful for pilgrim feet

Whose stern impassion'd stress

A thoroughfare for freedom beat

Across the wilderness.

America! America!

God mend thine ev'ry flaw,

Confirm thy soul in self-control,

Thy liberty in law.

 

O beautiful for heroes prov'd

In liberating strife,

Who more than self their country lov'd,

And mercy more than life.

America! America!

May God thy gold refine

Till all success be nobleness,

And ev'ry gain divine.

 

O beautiful for patriot dream

That sees beyond the years

Thine alabaster cities gleam

Undimmed by human tears.

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea.

A Tribute to the "Nation"

Before the Monument Valley trip, what caused the visit to Arizona to happen in the first place was actually the sudden passing of a good friend of mine, and I decided to go back to say goodbye to Jason Mattan. One morning he did not report in to work; his wife, Brandy, had already left to work in the early morning hours and had been at her work for a few hours when she was called and asked to check on him. He was found deceased in his bed, and may have never woke that morning. There were no signs of foul play, and at the time of this writing, it is still unknown what caused Jason, at the age of 38 and of relatively good health, to pass away suddenly.

In our circle of friends, we called Jason many nicknames; including "Jasor" and "Nation". He called me "Oso", Spanish for "Bear",  because we used to all play hackysack and I would do a move that resembled a dancing bear that would make him hyperventilate with laughter. Brandy never latinized the nickname and still calls me Bear.

Both Nation and Brandy were partially paralyzed, and they met in physical therapy. Among other things, their paralysis affected their sense of taste, and foods had to be super spicy in order for them to taste the flavor. I would often join them at their house to watch boxing - a favorite sport of Jasor's - and we'd sit there and eat pizza, stacked high with jalapeno toppings, along with super fire hot wings and chase them down with sodas, whose carbonation only spreads and amplifies the heat. I'd be sweating more than the sparring boxers while the two of them would be fine, enjoying the meal, the match, and the company.

Jasor was partially paralyzed as a teenager and always dealt with his paralysis with good humor and unparalleled optimism. Nothing could ever break his spirit, and this optimism is one particular quality that I will always remember about him - it inspires me greatly. A loyal amigo, he frequently called to check on me after I moved to Texas, and we'd have a good laugh every time.

Nation painted often, particularly he would paint his own Christmas cards each year and sell them, donating proceeds to Barrows Neurological Institute at St. Joseph's hospital in Phoenix who had been so instrumental in his recovery. Around the funeral home were displayed his paintings - oils of southwestern motifs with a holiday flair. Jasor is the one who inspired me to create my own Christmas cards each year and I intend to carry on the tradition. He had touched so many lives in his short mortal sojourn, and the funeral home was packed with friends and family - standing room only - all there to say their last goodbyes.  He was a great friend and I will miss him dearly.

Below is the poem that was inscribed in his funeral program that very accurately portrays Jason:

Afterglow
I'd like the memory of me
to be a happy one.
I'd like to leave an afterglow
of smiles when life is done.

I'd like to leave an echo
whispering softly down the ways,
Of happy times and laughing times
and bright and sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve
to dry before the sun
Of happy memories that I leave
when my life is done.

Rest in peace, my friend.

A Monumental Journey - Part Two

After our tour of Monument Valley, we had some great Navajo stews and fry bread at the The View resort restaurant. We then headed back to Goulding's Lodge for the evening.

I didn't sleep well that night and did not feel rested in the morning. In fact, I was feeling kinda sick. I had a slight fever simmering and a slightly sore throat. I had caught a bug somehow over the previous 24 hours and was a little concerned about how much driving I had to do on day three of our journey. On top of that, Jenny was also feeling sick and exhausted.

Our planned goal was to head over to Canyon de Chelly, then The Painted Desert & Petrified Forest, then Meteor Crater, and finally roll into Sedona by night fall. We decided to tweak the agenda and take advantage of our northern location. Instead of "plan A" we opted to head northeast into Utah and take the scenic road through Mexican Hat and Bluff, then swing around into Colorado, clip the corner of New Mexico and stop by Four Corners. It made sense, and it was a golden opportunity to see these sites as we were in no hurry to leave this region with its incredible landscapes.

And so into Utah we went, and as we left Monument Valley I looked in my rearview and saw the rocks in the distance and realized that entering Monument Valley from the Utah side is a more dramatic entrance. You come around a bend and over a small crest and you are welcomed by a whole line of great buttes along the horizon.

We continued onward past the community of Mexican Hat, a unique town that for the most part sits along the ledge of a river ravine. It is named after a nearby butte that looks like a man in a large sombrero.

Bluff, UT was also a charming small town just west of the middle of nowhere. Twin buttes stood near the turn off toward Colorado. They are impressive rocks and distracted me enough that I missed the turn. We winded upward through a small canyon and upon emerging, my innate male sense of navigation informed me we were not on the right road. (It should be noted that this sense was still operational despite my weakened and sick condition.) Without stopping to ask for directions, we turned around and proceeded down through the small canyon, said hello again to the twin buttes, and took the correct road toward Colorado, then into The Land of Enchantment.

There was a beautiful monument set up marking Four Corners. People were lined up to take their respective pictures at the very point where four states meet. Surrounding it were multiple Native American vending stands were Navajo jewelry and paraphernalia abounded. We took some pictures and had a quick bite to eat - some Navajo Tacos - and headed out and back to the Grand Canyon State.

At this point Jenny was feeling terrible, and we needed to wait a little bit before moving on because she felt nauseous, but she persevered and we drove the road toward Chinle, the gateway to Canyon de Chelly.

Upon arriving at Canyon de Chelly, the drive was already taking its toll. Jenny and I were feeling exhausted and sick, and Mom was tiring as well. We very much enjoyed the beauty of the canyon and bought some handmade Navajo stone paintings from one of the young artisans that waited at one of the overlook turnoffs. We opted not to hike down into the canyon, as it took all our energy just to walk to the various overlooks on the south side of Canyon de Chelly. We were determined though, and made it to every overlook.

It was amazing to see the small residences located in the base of the canyon, as well as the ruins that were dotted throughout the canyon, built into the steep rock walls - the picturesque simple life complete with small farms and goat and sheep herds, and it seemed like it would be a wonderful place to live... until I thought about all the tourists standing up on the ridges day after day, endlessly watching you, snapping pictures... and blogging about it later.

We left Canyon de Chelly ready for some dinner, but were well behind schedule and dining options were few in Chinle, so we stopped in at Burger King and ate on the road. The food gave me some renewed energy along with renewed optimism that I'd be able to make the drive all the way to Sedona.

The sun was setting as we made it to I40 and realized we would not be able to stop to see The Painted Desert, Petrified Forest nor Meteor Crater; but this was ok with us. We had discussed earlier when we opted to head over to Four Corners that it's best to catch the distant locations while we were in the area, as it's easier to see the closer locations on a day trip at a later date, so missing these scenic destinations along I40 was not a huge problem; besides, in our physical state at that moment, we wouldn't have had the energy to see them anyway. We were three exhausted desert travelers trying to reach a far destination on a hot, sun-scorched day.





As we put Holbrooke behind us, my previous optimism had all but faded, and I wasn't sure I'd have the energy to drive the remainder of the way. I was the only one listed as a driver on the rental, so I was determined to get us to our destination. (On a side note - We found out later that it's not the rental agreement technically that determines who can drive the car, but the insurance policy of the driver.) But at the time we thought I was the only one who could legally drive the rental.

I pulled over at a gas station and got a Dr. Pepper and told Mom and Jenny that I needed them to stay awake as well and keep the conversation going so I could remain alert and awake. They toughed it out and obliged, and after one more stop in Munds Park, we were able to roll into Sedona just in time to check in at our hotel before the lobby closed at 11 that night. We all went right to sleep. I was so tired, I was sure I'd get some good sleep finally.

The next morning we slept in and felt much better. We took our time in Sedona and enjoyed the red rock vistas and discovered a couple new shops in uptown Sedona. We also stopped in at Exposures International Gallery of Fine Art. I always enjoy visiting this gallery and have known a few on the staff for years. It's a great gallery that inspires every time I visit. Mom and Jenny enjoyed all the incredible works of art as well.

Before leaving town we had some great Mexican food at the Javelina Cantina near the Hillside galleries and shops, and then we set off toward Phoenix. I17 is a beautiful drive from Flagstaff to Phoenix, especially as it winds down through Bumble Bee and into Black Canyon City and Rock Springs, the proud home of Rock Springs Cafe and its world famous pies. Obviously, a stop was in order.

One boxed up Coconut Cream and one Tennessee Lemon pie later we hit the road for the final decent into the Valley, concluding a memorable journey chock full of the beautiful landscapes, inspiring views, and majestic monuments - stalwart regulars on the list of all things Arizona. As great a state Texas is, I miss the incredible contrasting natural wonders of the 48th state. I guess if Yogi Berra were to speak for me, he'd probably say something like: "I'm so proud to call Arizona my home, and I look forward to living there someday."

A Monumental Journey - Part One

While I was back home in Arizona in May, my Mom, my sister, Jenny, and I took a trip to the Native lands of northern Arizona. I had never been to some of these great historic destinations that so define the Arizona landscape, culture, and identity. On the list: Montezuma's Castle and Well, Monument Valley, Canyon de Chelly, Painted Desert & Petrified Forest, and Meteor Crater, and - of course, a favorite of mine - Sedona.

I didn't feel good about putting a ton of miles on Mom's car, so we rented one, a Chrysler Sebring sedan, and we headed out of Phoenix just after noon on a Wednesday.

Our first stop was at Montezuma's Castle - an astonishing remnant of Sinagua architecture. It's an amazing site to see built in the side of a carved out mountainside, and fed by the spring waters from the nearby well. I'm not going to attempt to wax eloquent in my descriptions of these beautiful sites since I'll need my strength and army of adjectives for Monument Valley. May I just say that these sites are very much worth the trip and bring a greater appreciation for the ancient civilizations that once lived there.

We ended up in Flagstaff the first night and had dinner at Black Bart's Steakhouse - known for its singing waiters and waitresses. The food is good but expensive, and the atmosphere is fun, although more on the mild side during midweek, I'd say. We capped off the evening by saying a quick hello to Saturn through the giant telescopes at Lowell Observatory.

The next morning we headed north into the Navajo Nation, and stopped first outside of Tuba City to see some dinosaur tracks and fossils. I was amazed that there were so many! The dino-geek in me was thrilled to learn that one of the tracks belonged to Allosaurus, a childhood favorite; but arguably the most impressive fossils were those representing dinosaur dung. Our guide predicted that the site will eventually be an official tribal park, but at the time it was out in the open with nothing around it but a couple tables where the guides were also selling some of their handmade jewelry, showcasing some beautiful turquoise, among other precious stones, silver, and carved shells. We were assured that fossilized feces was not incorporated in their designs.

After a pit stop in Tuba City, we continued on through Kayenta. Now... allow me to try and paint a picture of my mindset at this moment as we left Kayenta and approached Monument Valley. I was completely ready to burst with anticipation, like a kid on Christmas morning. I was fidgeting in the driver's seat, soooo excited to catch a glimpse of the first towering butte. This has been a dream of mine for years; and that dream became even stronger - almost desperate - to visit Tsé Biiʼ Ndzisgaii, or "The Valley of the Rocks", as the resident Navajos call it, ever since I moved away from Arizona.

I'm not totally certain as to why some of these sites in Arizona affect me in such a way, but it's been like this ever since I returned to Arizona from the lush, tropical, full-of-life, green landscapes of Brazil. I remember flying in to Phoenix and seeing the beige landscape, stepping out into the bright desert sunshine and breathing in the dry air, and seeing the rugged peaks high in the distance. Even though I had lived most my life in Arizona, it was if I was seeing it for the first time, through new eyes, and ever since then it the state's beauty doesn't cease to amaze me.

So as we drove over the crest of a small hill and saw the first butte In Monument Valley, my jaw hit the floor and I felt an incredible rush. And if I remember right, the three of us were cheering like banshees as we entered the valley of monuments.

We pulled over a few times to take some quick pictures before we drove to Gouldings Lodge. We got there just in time to check in and catch the final tour of the day. I highly recommend taking an official tour, as you get to go further into the valley, along the backroads and see some of the residential hogans of those living among the buttes as well as some fantastic petroglyphs and rock formations.

It's difficult for me to capture in words the majesty of Monument Valley. It completely blew my mind how beautiful and inspiring this special place is. Of all the many appropriate adjectives to describe The Valley of the Rocks, "majestic" would be the foremost description that comes to mind. The awe that you feel while in the valley is all around you and permeates your very core, and you can't take your eyes off the beautiful rocks. It's incredibly hypnotic, and in those moments I begin to understand what "communing with nature" is. My mission president once told me that the feelings we experience in those moments at such places are the Spirit of The Creator. It's truly a spiritual experience, and one can feel the love God has for his children in creating such beauties of Earth for us to enjoy.

I place Monument Valley up there with the Grand Canyon as a must see and a more than worthy item on anyone's bucket list. I'm grateful I was able to share this experience with loved ones and will always remember it.