Why movies used to matter...

Movies are a huge part of my childhood, there's just no way around it. I loved movies as a kid, and I still do. Kids today don't understand the effect that the movies of the 1980's had on those of us who were growing up then. We didn't have movie after to movie to look forward to each week of the summer. We got basically one movie per summer --- two in a good year. That left a lot of time to obsess about that movie. To study every line. To recreate every scene. To see ourselves in place of the main character.

I would argue -- and someday I will -- that it affected the way we thought. It affected the way we learned. Motion pictures are a powerful way to impart a message, and we were like sponges, just soaking it all in. Luckily for us, we had a stretch of about ten years -- from 1977 to 1987 -- when some of the greatest movies ever made, were released. Peruse this list, and tell me I'm wrong:

1977: Star Wars

1978: Superman

1979: The Muppet Movie (ok...I love the Muppets)

1980: The Empire Strikes Back

1981: Raiders of the Lost Ark

1982: E.T.

1983: Return of the Jedi

1984: The Karate Kid, Footloose, Ghostbusters, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (big year!)

1985: Back to the Future

1986: Top Gun

1987: The Princess Bride

Every one of these movies affected me deeply. It's not just that I know the stories by heart, and it's not just that I found them to be fun. I learned from them, lessons that I think about to this day...some are fun, some are deep...some are just emotionally affecting. Read on, and tell me these lines don't take you back to somewhere you loved...somewhere you long to visit again...

Try not. Do, or do not. There is no try.

There is a time to every purpose under heaven; a time to laugh and a time to weep. A time to mourn, and there is a time to dance.

Who said that every wish would be heard and answered, when wished on a morning star? Somebody thought of that, and someone believed it, and look what it's done so far.

Come...

Stay...

Ouch.

Ouch.

I'll...be...right...here...

...bye...

Will somebody please get this big walking carpet out of my way?

Can you read my mind? Do you know what it is you do to me?

Snakes...why'd it have to be snakes?

Instead of a big dark blur, I see a big bright blur...

Where do these stairs go?

You're right, no human being would stack books this way.

Your ego's writing checks your body can't cash!

Look eye...always look eye!

You built a time machine....? Out of a DeLorean!?

Hello...my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die.

These are just a few quick samples, but I know you're like me. Reading those lines didn't just bring to mind those movies. They took you back to that time. You remember how you felt. You remember what you thought.

When you read the parting words between E.T. and Elliot, you nearly choked up. When you read the line from Top Gun, you remembered your dream to be a naval aviator. When you read "look eye...always look eye" you remembered when every kid in America wanted to be the Karate Kid -- when we were all suddenly very interested in the way household chores could teach us karate. My guess is that there were a lot of cars waxed, fences painted and floors sanded, in the wake of that movie.

Movies for our generation were like sign posts in our memories. Each one stands along the road, stretching back in time. Each movie marked a year. Each sign reminds us of dreams we had, and emotions that we experienced, and lessons that we learned.

What are your favorite movie lines, and what movies did I miss?

Flat Rosa Parks' Big Adventure

 Rosa Parks was a pioneer in the civil rights movement. When she was told she was inferior to others because of her race, she proved to the world that she was not. She was an American hero.

Rosa passed away in 2005, but as luck would have it, she lives on in the form of Flat Rosa Parks.

You may have heard of Flat Stanley, who is the size of a piece of paper, and travels the world, having all kinds of adventures. Well, it turns out that Flat Stanley has many friends, some of whom are American heroes, and among his friends is Flat Rosa Parks.

Flat Rosa has been staying with us for about a week. She is visiting the United States, from her home in Germany, where she lives with my niece Annie. Annie was kind enough to arrange for Rosa to visit Utah this week, and we've been showing her around.

She's attended two soccer games, and gone driving with a fifteen year old girl. She said it was not as scary as she thought it was going to be, but she was glad when the ride was over.

But today was a very big adventure for Flat Rosa Parks. Today, she traveled to Provo (or the Promised Land, as Matt calls it...), with Matt and me, to watch the Blue and White scrimmage between the offense and the defense of BYU's football team.

It turns out that Flat Rosa Parks is a big college football fan, and she predicts the Cougars are going to have a very good year, but she can't believe that football doesn't start for another five months. 

Frankly, neither can I. 

Her date for the afternoon was Matthew, whom she described as the perfect gentleman. 

We had front row seats, because Flat Rosa Parks should always sit in the front.

She even got to meet Cosmo the Cougar, although he slipped away, before we could snap any pictures. 

Cougars are very evasive. 

While Flat Rosa Parks enjoyed watching the Cougars practice today, what she really found exciting was after the game when we were all able to go out on to the field (or, Holy Ground, as Matt calls it...).

Flat Rosa liked the view from the field, and she even got to watch Matthew kick a twenty-five yard field goal, straight through the uprights, on his very first kick. Flat Rosa was VERY impressed. Matt also caught a few touch down passes, a pick six, punted the ball, and threw a forty yard pass...and pretty much died and went to heaven.

Flat Rosa Parks is not actually standing on this young lady's head. 

Flat Rosa Parks would never do such a thing. 

On the way home we also had one more adventure. It turns out, that Flat Rosa Parks is a big fan of Kevin Bacon, and it just so happens that Mr. Bacon's biggest film, Footloose, was filmed right here in Utah. So we surprised Flat Rosa, by taking her to the Lehi Roller Mills. This is the grain mill in the movie where Ren (Kevin Bacon) is employed, and also where the final fight scene and dance were filmed. That red porch was where Ren jumped off and kicked Chuck right in the face. It's a great scene. 

Matt and Flat Rosa were so impressed that they spent several minutes exploring the area, and got so excited that Flat Rosa jumped out of Matt's hand, and nearly blew into the traffic on a nearby road. But Matt, always a gentlemen, saved her at the last moment. 

She is an American Hero after all -- it was the least he could do. 

 Our time with Flat Rosa is nearly done, and she is looking forward to getting back to Germany, and telling all of her friends there about the time she went to see the BYU Cougars practice football, and got to see the Lehi Roller Mills, where Footloose was filmed.

Flat Rosa Parks has been an ideal house guest, and we're grateful for the time we've had to spend with her.

Good luck in your future travels, Flat Rosa Parks!

Daffodils and Second Chances

Under the warming spring sun, and embraced by the awakening earth, the daffodils in my front yard are beginning to bloom.

Today, as I watched the pale yellow petals, emerging from their winter hibernation -- the first of our flowers to do so -- I found myself thinking about life and rebirth. I thought about hope.

Mostly, I thought about second chances.

The do over.

Often, it seems like we make so many irredeemable mistakes. It feels like we go through life, burning bridges behind us. Our sins haunt us like ghosts that won't go away.

Watching the flowers return to my yard, year after year, however, reminds me of how often I get a chance to try again. I get the chance to set things right more often than I realize -- maybe more often than I deserve.

I fail regularly as a husband, and a parent, a son and a friend. We all juggle so many balls and twirl so many plates, that sometimes one or two are bound to fall. I am cross and unkind. I am impatient and sharp. I am belligerent and sarcastic. I also let the moments pass me by.

I miss chances to hold Emma's hand. Or to throw the football with Matt. I let the opportunity die where I might have had an insight into the mind of my fifteen year old daughter. I let my wife drift off to sleep without hearing the words "I love you."

If Sharon never heard another word from me, I would want those to be the last words that left my lips.

Those are the things that I'm talking about. I really don't care if I ever get another chance to mow the grass, or shovel the snow.

The good things we do make life beautiful, like the daffodils in my flower beds. And I'm thankful for every sunrise. Every sunrise is a second chance. Every day is another opportunity to set things right, to correct my course.

A chance to say what I meant to say yesterday.

A chance to build, instead of tear down.

A chance to heal, instead of wound.

A chance to hope, instead of hurt.

A chance to tell my family and friends that if there is anything worthy of affection in me, I owe it all to them.

A chance to let my daughter know that I am so proud of the woman that she is becoming.

A chance to tell my son that I treasure his friendship, more than worldly wealth could buy.

A chance to stand by youngest, and laugh in the face of life, and show it that we're playing by her rules now.

A chance to tell my wife I love her, and the opportunity to pray that I'll have the chance to tell her again tomorrow.

A chance to follow the Yellow Brick Roads, and to chase the rainbows, and to dance where I only walked before.

I have so many second chances in my life, that I can't help thinking Someone wants me to get this right...

Blowing off steam. A lot of steam.

Both barrels loaded...

And here we go...

Education in the state of Utah sucks. There's no way around it. We're fifty first in the nation -- behind all of the other states AND the District of Columbia -- in per pupil spending. That's beyond pathetic. But here's the other side of the issue. We're not getting our money's worth for what we are spending. Education gets every penny of the state income tax. Every cent. They don't have an income problem so much as they have a spending problem. I want an accounting of the money, and I want teachers held to account for their jobs. I had some amazing teachers. My kids have had some amazing teachers. They've had some real duds too -- and trust me, I am not the guy to look at blaming the teachers for the problems first, but honestly! This rant is spurred by the time I spent helping my son study for a history test tonight. He has no history book. They keep a couple of books in class, but they can't bring it home. When, in the course of all time, have kids not had textbooks to bring home? You can't tell me that there was more money in education when I was a kid, than there is now.

Well, you can tell me that, but I won't believe it.

Maybe if the brand new school in the district hadn't decided to try and buy iPads for all of the kids to use, then perhaps my son would have a text book to study from. Or maybe if the executive salaries were based on their actual worth, there might be a little more money available for the students.

Maybe. I know it's radical.

Gay marriage. It's going to happen, and legally that's the way it should be. I don't want the government defining marriage, and you shouldn't either. The constitutional principle here is that we should always err on the side of more liberty. That's self government 101. It's not always palatable, and morally I find gay marriage to be wrong. I consider it a sin. But that's between me and my God. I'm allowed to feel that way, and you can try to persuade me to feel otherwise, but you can't legislate my beliefs. If you don't feel the same way as I do, that is also your right. The Constitution and, more specifically, the Bill of Rights, does not exist to protect all the things you love and agree with -- specifically it exists to protect the things you don't like -- for the greater protection of all of us. Maybe you've noticed, we don't always see eye to eye. The first amendment doesn't protect popular speech, it protects speech you find offensive. This same principal applies in judicial situations -- like it or not the accused criminal's rights are of greater judicial concern than a victim's rights. You may not like it, but that is a protection for all of us -- because a wrongly convicted person is a greater travesty than the victim of a crime not getting their pound of flesh from the law. That's hard medicine, but it's good for you. The same thing goes for the idea of gay marriage. If the government can tell someone else who to love, or who to marry, then it can can tell you who to love and who to marry. Or not marry, as the case may be.

There's is one more principal at work here that maybe we God fearing folk should perhaps take notice of: the greatest blessing God has given us is our agency -- the chance to choose between right and wrong, and the chance (the blessing, even?) to learn and grow from our mistakes. But, if you are prevented from choosing between right and wrong (whatever that may be, in a given situation) are you really free? As I recall that was the other plan...


Err on the side of more liberty. Always.

Gun Control. I'm so tired of hearing about guns. I'm tired of hearing about gun violence. I'm tired of hearing about gun rights. I'm tired of hearing about gun control. I'm sick of every side of this argument, so here's the gospel according to Chris (and this will probably be the last time you ever hear -- or read -- this kind of thing on this blog):

More guns equal more homicides. All the numbers back that up, and here's why -- it's easier to kill someone with a gun. Not just quicker, but easier. There is a psychological threshold that you have to cross in order to take another life. You have to get to the point where you believe it's ok -- or where you at least believe that you are justified. If you're protecting your family, that threshold is very low. Protecting your home or your country? Maybe it's a little higher, but still relatively easy to cross that threshold. But, when it comes to murder, that threshold is much higher -- but it's not as high with a gun, as it would be with another weapon. A knife, or a baseball bat is much more personal, and physically difficult and messy. You have to get to a higher threshold in order to use those weapons, than you would with a gun. So, frankly, that old reliable answer "If they didn't have a gun, they would have just used whatever was at hand" doesn't really wash. They might just decide it's not worth it. Most homicides are committed with a firearm.

And while we're at it -- the "More people are killed by cars than guns, so why don't we just ban cars" sarcastic argument is stupid too. It's an apples and oranges argument. Rarely, though I won't say never, does someone -- even a drunk -- get into a car with the intention of taking a life. Even if they know that the possibility is high, they hope that they will be the exception and not the statistic. If you point a gun at someone, and pull the trigger, you are intending to harm, if not kill that person. Every time. Let's argue about the same thing.

And, just because it's your right to carry a gun openly in public, doesn't mean that you should. Stop it. It scares people. Don't be a jerk. How can I differentiate between you and the guy who's going to shoot up the store, until one of you opens fire? You're not Rambo.

Love your guns. I don't care. But don't LOOOOOOVE your guns. Seriously. And don't tell me that the last person I need to worry about is the concealed carry permit holder. Anyone who is so paranoid that they think they need to be armed at all times scares me. I realize that there are a lot of good, law abiding  concealed carry permit holders, but I've spent time with my fair share of the other type as well -- I think they want the government to come after their guns. I think they fantasize about it.

They're not coming for your guns. Sorry to burst your bubble.

Oh, and by the way, stop throwing Chicago, New York and DC under the bus, as the worst places for gun violence in the U.S. I realize that you don't like their gun laws -- that's fine -- but I have news for you: those three cities are not even in the top ten cities for violence (gun related and otherwise) in the United States. Try St. Louis. The most violent city in America. Add to that Detroit, Cleveland, Miami, Orlando(!)

As for the second amendment -- the founders were actually very careful about the language that they used. When they talk about a militia in the second amendment, that's what they mean. That's one of the reasons they wanted you to have guns -- to protect the country from invasion. It actually wasn't exactly referring to your personal right to self protection, and would you like to know why? Because they considered that to be self evident. It's a natural right, not a constitutional one. You have the God given right to protect yourself. The founders lived in a frontier society. They understood danger. They understood the need for self protection. They thought that we would too.

And, while I'm getting stuff off my chest: the second amendment does not exist to preserve your right to overthrow the government. Seriously, you watch too many movies. The right to revolution is also a natural right -- which is why it is set forth in the Declaration of Independence, and not the Constitution. The Constitution does not contain the method of it's own destruction. How stupid would that be? Oh, and the right to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed...that means you have a right to keep and use your guns (or other arms), it does not mean that you have the right to any kind of firearm (or other weapon) you would like. It doesn't mean that you should be able to have equivalent firepower to the government. Maybe you should have that right, maybe you shouldn't, but it's not constitutional. If you ask me, gun owners shouldn't appeal to the constitution for their rights. They should appeal to a higher law -- natural law. You have the self evident, unalienable right to self protection, regardless of what someone said in 1791.

And, just to be fair, if you are so gullible as to believe that eliminating guns from society eliminates all violence and evil, you've been out in the sun too long. It's time to grow up. We have a violence problem in this country, that is enabled and inflamed by the pervasiveness of guns, but it's not caused by them. As tired as I am of hearing the cliche "guns don't kill people, people kill people", cliches are cliches because they're true.

"There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil, to one who is striking at the root"

----Thoreau

The root of the problem is that we glorify all types of violence, and as a result we have people who want to kill other people. Fix that problem.

And last of all, to the cheerleaders at Highland High School, who will not be allowed to try out for cheerleader this year because they had more than 18 unexcused absences: welcome to real life. You've worked hard, I have no doubt, to be good at what you do. But you also signed a contract in which you agreed to abide by the 18 plus unexcused absences disqualification rule. And then you went and skipped class (at least) eighteen times. You always have to pay the piper. Always. Frankly, one unexcused absence should have disqualified you from cheerleaders try outs. Eighteen?! Did you ever go to class? And taking the story to the media, to try and force the school's hand, and shame them into changing their policy backfired. You look petty. But I blame your parents for that one.

Whew. I could have gone on all night. Who knew I had so much rant building up inside of me?

I'm not even sure what I wrote -- it's all a bit of a blur.

Do I feel better? Not really. It turns out griping about things just makes you think more about things you don't like. It doesn't really solve anything.

Nice Chris will be back tomorrow night.

When Chris met Sharon (A Fairytale)

Once upon a time, in the far off land of Cedar City, there lived a fair maiden, with golden hair and sapphire eyes. She claimed that her eyes were emerald, but she was wrong. Her name was Sharon, and she lived all alone, in a secluded room of RA, in the Great Hall of Juniper. She cared for the lesser creatures who also lived in the hall. Many of these beings were away from their lands for the first time, and could barely feed and clothe themselves. Sharon was a kind hearted maiden, and took pity on them. They loved her dearly.

In the Hall of Juniper, there also lived a red headed wizard, who was full of mischief and magic. His name was Aaron, and he had an enchanted laundry basket.

One day, Aaron's friend from long ago came to visit him in Cedar City. His name was Chris, and Aaron owed him a great debt, for many years ago, Chris had given Aaron half of his brain -- for sadly, Aaron had no brain of his own. Aaron longed to repay Chris for this sacrifice, and knew he could not do it without convincing Chris to move to the City of Cedar, permanently. He did this in a matter of days. It was easy to convince Chris to do things because he only had half a brain, and he was very tired. You see, after crossing into the Land of Cedar, Chris was immediately hexed and found himself held captive every other night at an evil castle called Cash Saver. Held all night long Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, Chris soon became no better than a babbling idiot zombie.

Aaron, with his half brain, tried to conceive of a way to bring life back to his friend. First he took him to a local tavern called JB's where Chris, little better than a talking crash test dummy at this point, hit on a red headed waitress named Heather. He flirted with her all night, and then left his phone number on the bill, and left. Aaron watched all of this, and knew he had to act fast. This was not the Chris he knew. Chris did not hit on red headed waitresses. Or any of the other kind either. Clearly this Heather had cast a spell on him. Chris only had half a brain, and even that was questionable at this point.

Aaron went back to his lair, where he thought and he thought, and he slept and then he thought some more. And then he ate. And then he thought. One afternoon, while strolling the corridors of the Hall of Juniper, Aaron saw Sharon, the sapphire eyed, golden haired fair maiden, and he had a thought.

"What if I shaved my head?"

But then he had another thought....

"I need to do laundry."

Sharon passed by Aaron, and patted him on the head. Sharon knew that Aaron was one of the "special" people, that she was charged with caring for. She knew he was addle brained, but she didn't know that he had an enchanted laundry basket.

An enchanted laundry basket of destiny.

And destiny came calling later that afternoon.

Chris, who had once again been held over night at the Cash Saver, had stumbled into Aaron's lair, early in the morning, and quickly fallen into a deep sleep. Later in the afternoon, when he awoke, he found that he was alone and hungered. He rose from his bed, bleary eyed, and disheveled.

"Food!" he cried. "I require sustenance, but am a lad of half a brain, and incapable of caring for myself. I must find Aaron!"

"AAAAAAARRRRRROOOONNNNNN!" he bellowed, as he stumbled through the Hall of Juniper, toward the Great Room. 

He came to the top of a great staircase, and nearly fell down it, due to his fatigue and malnourishment.

Now, at that moment, the planets aligned. Aaron came into the Great Room, with his enchanted laundry basket, just as Sharon, the fair, golden haired, sapphire eyed maiden emerged from her chambers. Aaron had a flash of insight, that caused his head to hurt, but he concentrated carefully, because he knew something important was happening. He knew that Sharon was a kind, and generous being. He looked up to see Chris stumbling down the great staircase, and thought, if ever there was a poor, half brained, zombie-fied creature in need of kindness and generosity...it was Chris.

 Aaron also knew that Sharon, the golden haired, sapphire eyed, fair maiden, was no fool. But Aaron was a wizard, and he could be especially persuasive. He closed Sharon's ears to the bellowing of Chris, and blinded her to his presence. The spell would only last for a few moments, he had to move quickly. Aaron brought Sharon into the Great Room, and sat her before the fireplace, just as Chris stumbled into the room...

Aaron slid his laundry basket in front of Sharon, and cast his most powerful spell of all -- just as he maneuvered Chris to sit on the laundry. As Chris settled into the pile of clothes, before Sharon, he was transformed, in her eyes. Yes, the spell that Aaron cast changed Chris's appearance -- but only to Sharon. What had been a drooling, stumbling, bleary husk of a man, became, at least in Sharon's eyes, a handsome, strong, if not particularly smart (magic has it's limits) man. Her sapphire eyes sparkled. Her heart beat a little faster. She smiled at him.

Even through the fog of his half brain, Chris knew beauty when he saw it. Chris, for all of his shortcomings, had one special power -- the ability to see beauty. True beauty. Chris could barely dress himself, but he could discern beauty, in all it's forms, and when he saw Sharon's smile, he knew he would never again meet anyone so beautiful in this life. He was smitten, and pledged then and there to do all he could to win the heart of this sapphire eyed, golden haired fair maiden. And with the help of Aaron's spell, he soon convinced Sharon to go on a date with him, and from then on Sharon was never out of Chris's sight for long.

He held her hand. He enchanted her with his simpleton ways. He professed his love so earnestly, that Sharon took pity on him, and married him. She may have been blind to his hideous appearance, but she understood that this poor creature would never survive without someone to give him kindness and generosity. And love.

Aaron felt badly for deceiving Sharon with such a  dastardly spell, but such was his half brained commitment to his half brained friend, that he was willing to face any consequence, to see to Chris's happiness.

His punishment was that all of his hair fell out.

And everyone lived happily ever after.

The end.

My Kitchen Table (or, scraping the bottom of the creative barrel)

Does anyone use their kitchen table for eating meals anymore?

We don't. We eat in front of the television -- lately we've been watching episodes of Mythbusters on Netflix. But we do it as a family, and that's what counts, right?

No, our kitchen table is just one giant collector of stuff -- like every other surface in the house.  I don't know if this means we have too much stuff, or our house is too small -- probably both. I'm sitting here, trying not to commit myself to any kind of long blog post tonight (because I just got some sweet Scooby Doo episodes -- also courtesy of Netflix -- that I have been trying to watch for three nights, but keep falling asleep. I'm determined to watch them tonight. Never mind that I've seen them a hundred times as a kid)...

Wow...I really lost control of that last sentence. What I was trying to say was that, in my attempt to be brief tonight, I think I'll just take a quick inventory of my kitchen table:

1. iMac computer. You might think this should go on the desk. You might be wrong. Yes, we have a desk. It's also covered in overflowage.

Yeah, I just coined that word.

2. Printer and paper. The only paper we have is legal size -- which means we have to trim everything we print.

3. iPad. It's never far away -- which is kind of a sad statement.

4. A small twisty camera tripod. It look like an orange and white spider, and I've never used it. But I got a great deal on it, so I display it on my kitchen table. That probably goes without saying.

5. Hello Kitty headphones. These are not mine. Mine are the black ones -- also on the table.

6. Earbuds. These are mine. Sometimes your audio needs call for great big ear covering headphones, and sometimes they call for more discreet measures. Like when you're at work. Or the Jr. High band concert. Or church.

7. Suave Lotion. Everlasting Sunshine. This is also mine (I'm sensing a trend here...) My body is addicted to lotion. Everlasting Sunshine smells like rainbows and kittens, and I'm not afraid to admit I like it. I'm not insecure about it at all.

8. Four merit badges: Mammal Studies, Nature, Field Sports, and Wilderness Survival. Well, I know THOSE aren't mine.

9. A stack of CDs -- a stack of unknowns and Garth Brooks: Sevens, on top. Really? Garth Brooks? How long has that thing been sitting on the table?

10. 8x10 picture of some wildflowers in the Albion Basin, that I took three years ago. Seriously, how often do we clean this table off?

11. One pack of Stride ID Peppermint gum. There are nine pieces missing.

12. The Capo for my guitar -- not sure where the guitar is at the moment.

13. A tube of Neosporin. You have kids, you understand.

14. A ten foot, kangaroo skin, 12 plait, bullwhip. Well, where do you keep yours?

15. An insurance card.

16. A JVC video camera, with the video I shot in Disneyland. Six months ago. That I'm going to do something with any day now.

17. A torn envelope that has the words "Battle of the Planets" written on it. I'm a notorious note writer, and even more notorious carrier around of notes. Most notorious of all, usually when I get around to reading the notes that I keep in my pocket -- after a month or two, I find that they are no longer relevant.

18. Two iPods. Both mine. Because two is better than one.

19. Forrest Gump. The DVD, not the guy.

20. An external hard drive that is currently NOT backing up anything on my computer -- even though the Mac keeps asking for it.

21. An SD card reader. I used to be a photographer...

22. Batman.

23. A calculator.

24. Address labels sent from one of those groups that hopes you'll just be generous and send them money for going to the effort to send you something that you never asked for. I would you know, but my name isn't Christopher Thornbald -- though I've considered changing it to that, since that's what I've been called most of my life.

25. A yellow Kazoo. What can I say? I look for inspiration anywhere I can.

I'm stopping at 25, because this has been far more effort than I had intended to exert this evening.

So, tell me, what does your kitchen table look like?

Meanwhile, at Zarahemla Point...

This may or may not be a true story...

The last ray of crimson light burned across the western horizon. The few clouds left in the sky, fanned out like fingers, drawing the night across the world. The first star winked into view over head. It was the kind of star you made a wish on...

The classic red convertible was parked at the over view, looking out over the valley, now hidden in the dusk of a summer evening...

The night was warm, but not stifling...

They were young....They were alive.

They lay on the hood of the car, looking up into the cobalt heavens....stars beginning to reflect in their eyes...

Music played softly from the car speakers...Phil Collins...

They talked of life and dreams. They reveled in the beauty of the moment...

Then they sat up and looked around at all the people now making out in all the other cars, at the end of Zarahemla Street, and one said to the other:

"You know, maybe next time we should bring girls up here..."