DAY 46 - HALFWAY THERE

Well without even realizing it, I am halfway through this 83-day Journey. Late last night I sat down and read through all of my blogposts so far. And I have to admit – this hasn’t exactly gone the direction I had expected.  I really thought that I would write all about my heartache and all the brokenness I felt inside. But, although I have mentioned some of it, it hasn’t been the entire focus of every blogpost – and I’m glad for that. I am a happy person, and for the most part I have blogged about the happiness in my life.

   I will admit that there are some topics that have just been too painful to write. Things that are still too raw. Pain that still cuts too deep to yet face. And I really don’t think that I’m just avoiding it as much as giving myself permission to handle things when I’m ready to handle them. There will still be a few topics – maybe during this second-half of the 83-day Journey, some maybe even later – that I will tackle to be able to move beyond them. But I am also noticing that some things have dissipated with the simple passage of time – not that they didn’t hurt and don’t sometimes still cause twinges, but that through the way I choose to live my life I have met people and gained strengths by which I can handle them better.

   But it is also true that some of the pain and hurtfulness are still too overwhelming to face. So I keep them carefully tucked away in a corner until I can better deal with them. It is sadly true that those we love the most also have the ability to hurt us the deepest. And although I thought that divorce was excruciating, I have learned that the betrayal of an affair is even worse.

   So I will continue to move forward with this Journey. I will try each day to do something that moves my life forward in a meaningful way. And I will review at the end of each day to learn the lessons that I need to learn – and to share them with you.

   Thanks for coming along with me on this Journey. It’s a different road than I expected, and I’m still not sure where (or even if) it will end – but as the saying goes:  It’s all about the Journey.

DAY 45 - STRANGERS ARE JUST FRIENDS I HAVEN'T MET YET

Tonight the Sister Missionaries came over for dinner. It was great!  And don’t worry, I didn’t poison them – that’s what the Emergency Lasagna is there to prevent.

   And more than just the Sisters, I also invited Isabel Dorton to join us. Isabel is a great 13-year-old young woman in my neighborhood, and she was just the right addition to this “Dinner Party”.

   As we started dinner, the Sisters shared a bit about themselves: how long they’ve been out, where they are from, what they originally thought about being sent to Provo Utah. Isabel shared a bit about her family, a few funny stories, a few lessons learned.

   In the short one-hour we had together, we got to know each other a bit better – and I think we each learned something valuable from the stories we shared.

   Oh, I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again – that's just the nature of missionaries and transfers. But I do know if I run into them at church, another hug will be in order. And if they stop by when they are in the area, that the door will always be open to them. And if I don’t ever see these two cute young ladies again, that I got the chance to meet them and be part of their mission experience.

   And it reminded me that friends aren’t just people that I have known forever – but that my dad’s philosophy of “strangers are just friends we haven’t met yet” is so very true.  By the end of dessert there were hugs as we parted ways. And somewhere out there, wandering the rugged streets of Provo Utah, are two people who were strangers this morning – and are new friends tonight.

DAY 44 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!

Dale and his little brother Jack

On October 14, 1916, my grandparents, Frances Evans and John Lewis Roe, gave birth to their first child, Dale Evans Roe. Dad grew up in Preston, Idaho, and was surrounded by family most of his early life.

   When he was only 14-years-old his mother died suddenly, leaving his father to raise three young boys alone. Grandpa was a very rough-and-tumble man – who had played Professional Baseball, rode for the Pony Express, and ran a newspaper (the Preston Citizen). Dad’s dad was ill-equipped to be a single father. My dad told me that one time Grandpa had a business trip to go on, so he took the three boys (age 10-15) up by the Bear River to Camp-Out while he was gone for a few days – he left them with blankets, a fishing pole, and a hunting knife. Fortunately Grandma’s sisters, especially Mary and Erma, helped out with the boys frequently – and Dad maintained close relationships with “The Aunts” for the rest of their lives.

The 3 Boys: Bryce, Jack, Dale

   Dale graduated from Preston High in 1933, at age 16 (he had skipped 7th grade with my mom) – and started at the “AC” (now known as Utah State University) immediately. He had always worked at The Citizen, and continued to do so – and commuted from Preston to Logan, usually by hitchhiking. He and a few friends had what we would call a “Crash Pad” nowadays where he would stay over during bad weather. He told me that they used to keep a “Community Pot” on the stove, and everyone would just throw what veggies/meat/etc. they could come up with – and they just kept the pot of soup going for days on end.

   While in college, Dad also started dating Mom. She worked at Merrill’s Drug in Preston, and he would often go visit her at work – where she would sneak extra Malted into his shakes. They were married in 1936 (see post here), and Dad graduated from Utah State Agricultural College in 1937 – he was 20-years-old.

Dale at the Preston Citizen

   When he was age 23, Dad bought out his grandfather’s half of the Preston Citizen – making him the youngest newspaper owner in Idaho history (at least at the time). His grandpa, Watkin Lewis Roe, had founded the Citizen, and Dad was 3rd generation in the newspaper business – and since many uncles and cousins have followed in this family tradition.

   When World War II started, Dad and his father decided that they should sell the Preston Citizen – knowing they would both be involved in the war effort. Dad had been assigned a Draft Number and it was only a matter of time before he would be Called Up. And Grandpa was an expert machinist (from fixing newspaper presses his whole life), so he wanted to help with the war effort also – ending up in San Diego, working on Navy Vessels.

   Since his Senior Year of high school, Dad had also worked for the American Red Cross – starting as a Life Guard. Dad could swim like a fish – and could basically do anything in water. So as the war began, Red Cross assigned Dad to do Survival Training at military bases around the country. He taught midshipmen how to jump off a Battleship (a 50-foot drop) without breaking their legs. He taught soldiers how to swim through lakes that the Japanese would set on fire. He was sent to Wendover, Utah, to train Doolittle’s Raiders those survival skills – no one knowing that their mission would so drastically change the course of the war.

Teaching lifesaving -- dad is far right (in plaid)

   Through all of WWII, Dad continued this training – waiting for his number to be called. He would be on a base doing the training, and he would get notification that his number had been called and he was to report immediately. He would go to the Base Commander and show his orders, and the Base Commander would say, “This training is too valuable. I will get your number reassigned.” During the course of the war Dad had dozens of Draft Numbers, each one reassigned. He spent the entire war on military bases training soldiers – and did it all as a civilian working for the American Red Cross. He was never drafted.

My father
Dale Evans Roe

   As you can tell, my dad was my hero. And he still is. I have never known a kinder or gentler man. He was brilliant, funny, and a fabulous writer. He greeted everyone he met as a friend, and considered strangers just friends he hadn’t met yet. Dad loved everyone, and was generous and giving of his time and talents. He was a spiritual giant, and truly emulated the Savior in the way he lived his life.

   Today would have been his 98th birthday, and even though he has been gone nearly 10 years I still miss him every single day. And I am so grateful that he and Mom were crazy enough to adopt a newborn at age 50 and let me be part of their lives.

   Happy Birthday, Dad!

DAY 43 - WHAT'S YOUR EXCUSE?

Today a handful of us got together to celebrate a Birthday Lunch of our dear friend, Jan Billings. Jan is an adorable dynamo, and in her 80+ years has lived a lot of life and gathered a lot of friends. It was fun to get together just to visit for an hour and enjoy our friendships. And last night there was an Open House for my neighbor (just home from a mission), and again, a great gathering of friends – just to visit and catch up.

   Sure, there are some friends that I see fairly regularly, and some that I see occasionally, and some sadly that I see all too infrequently. And it’s because I feel like I need an “excuse” to get together with people. That’s one reason why I do my Big Birthday Bash every year – not because I think my birthday is a big deal, but that it’s ideally timed in early June (right after school gets out but before Summer Vacations really get underway). And mostly because it’s a great excuse to have a party and get together to see friends.

   A friend, Jodie Naranjo, stopped by Saturday Afternoon – because she knew I was having a Garage Sale and she happened to be in the area. I haven’t see Jodie in about a year, despite the fact that we worked together for over 8 years, and there’s a great mutual respect there. Let me just tell you – Jodie is one of the coolest people I know. She’s funny as heck, incredibly smart, has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know, and is just great to hang out with. So why don’t I hang out with her more? Because I don’t have a good “excuse” to hang out with her – which is silly, and something I am going to make an effort to change.

   I do that a lot – and I think most of us do. We need an “excuse” to do certain things with certain people. Why??? For me I guess I always felt like I wasn’t “cool” enough or that no one would want to hang out with me unless there was a good excuse. (Obviously left over effects of the Abandonment issues I’m still battling.)

   And that is one of the things I’m going to address on this 83-day Journey: to celebrate the friendships with which I have been so richly blessed. I’ve gotten better about celebrating the great things & events in my life – and now I want to celebrate the relationships that I have. Because I truly believe that this life is all about the way that we treat each other in this world and the relationships that we make that will carry beyond this world.

   Being single, I spend far too much time alone and often have evenings when I wish there was someone to hang out with – heck, just to be with. And I’m really sure I’m not alone in feeling alone.

   Wanna hang out? We don’t need an excuse.

DAY 41 - ALWAYS HAVE A BACKUP PLAN

Actual sign from my mantle.
Gift from my dear friend Abby Hawkins.

I was goofing off this afternoon, and just decided to go back and read an old blogpost (about my brother) – and all of the sudden:  my entire blog was gone. The entire blog – GONE! I totally freaked out!

   Deep Breath. Maybe it’s just on my phone. But no, when I went inside and logged onto my laptop – it just wasn’t there. Panic. Fear. Tears. Because – I didn’t have back-up copies of those posts. It’s not so much that I think that my words should live forever, but that I expected the internet to be a stable source. I mean, my hard drive might crash – but the internet is forever. Right?

   Trying to remain calm, I did a bit of research to see if it was just hidden from view. Clicking, searching, clicking some more. After a few minutes, I found out that an unscrupulous character tried hacking my account – JERK!  So, after verifying that I am me AND beefing up my password, I was able to restore my blog. (And if you’re reading this, then you’re probably glad too!)

   Usually I am a bit of what you might call a Digital Hoarder. Typically I make backups and create versions of documents as I progress – and save them as I go. It’s a habit I developed 20 years ago when I was writing 80-page proposals – which often got Chomped by a computer at a crucial moment. When that happened (and back in the 1990s it happened a lot), I could just revert back to a previous version and pick up from there.

   And I’m especially careful to have copies of all of my photographs on both CD and an External Hard Drive. And I often make backups of my backups – just in case. I’ve had one too many computers die on me to go more than a few weeks without an update. And now with Internet resources like OneDrive and DropBox, it’s so easy to have backups of SmartPhones, photos, files, etc.

   So this afternoon I took the time to create an archive folder for my blog too. And I ran a backup of my laptop (even though my current backup is less than 2 weeks old). And I also ordered a printer cartridge so that I can print of my blog each day – because, yes, I still believe in having paper copies too.

   Because one of the things that I have learned in life is to always have a back-up plan. My life has certainly not turned out the way I expected – heck, this YEAR hasn’t turned out as expected. For that matter, today didn’t turn out as expected. But that’s OK, because I have a backup plan – and part of that plan is this 83-day Journey. 

   What is your backup plan?

DAY 40 - MY TOMATO JAM FEAST

I got a text last night from my friend, Claudio Aguiar – it said that he had a jar of Tomato Jam for me. 

   Now your initial reaction is probably similar to what mine was – unless you’ve HAD Tomato Jam. It’s probably a typical American reaction. Fortunately Claudio isn’t American – he’s from Portugal. And fortunately so is his mother, who is the Master Chef for this amazing Tomato Jam.

   Claudio and I used to work together (and he’s still there), so I ran down to Morinda to get the Tomato Jam and to visit a few friends – but mostly for the Tomato Jam. And as I walked around visiting, carrying a jar of Tomato Jam, I got a few strange looks – so those foolish enough to comment were invited/forced to taste it. Each was pleasantly surprised. [Claudio, I think Matt Colyar is so convinced you might need to get a jar to him too.]

   Anyway, as I headed home, “regular” bread just wouldn’t suffice for something as fabulous as Tomato Jam – so I stopped at Kneaders and tasted four different breads before buying a loaf of Rosemary Focaccia. Hmmmm, but bread and jam isn’t quite enough for dinner – and I do make a yummy salad. So off to the grocery store for salad ingredients, including almonds and raspberries. Then on the way home, the Fruit Stand was open – oooooo, fresh tomatoes and pears. Now, that’s a feast.

   So here is tonight’s menu:

• Cheese Tortellini (purchased at the store)
• Herb Salad with Raspberries, Almonds, and Dried Cranberries
• Fresh Tomatoes with coarse salt
• Fresh Pears drizzled with Baird Honey
• and for dessert: Tomato Jam on Rosemary Bread

   Even though I don’t cook, as you can tell, I do shop quite well. And I can throw a feast together with a few bucks and a few minutes’ notice.

   But more than that, I decided that I deserve to have a fabulous meal. It doesn’t have to be a special occasion. I don’t have to be having guests. I can have a feast anytime – even when I’m eating all by myself. A dear friend made a kind gesture by gifting to me a rare treat – and I decided that I would make it a celebration this evening. By myself. For myself. Of myself.

   It was delicious. And it all started with a tomato, an adorable and talented Portuguese Mom, and a thoughtful gift from a friend.

Day 39 - I'M A MORMON -- MEET THE MORMONS

I’m a Mormon. And although I don’t try to hide it, I also don’t often bring it up outside of my personal circle of family and friends. And this “I’m a Mormon” campaign made me think about that.

   When I was a teenager growing up in Oakland, California, I was very vocal about my religion. Not in an overly-zealous kind of way, but if people had questions they knew I was Mormon and could ask me. For a while in high school there was a group of us that would get together for a “Bible Study” of sorts. A number of my friends were active in a variety of faiths, and we would get together before school and discuss the Bible and our sometimes-varying views. It was all very open and accepting, and it was great to not only share my beliefs but to also learn more about the beliefs of others.

   Then I moved to Utah. And everyone here is Mormon, or so it felt as a teenager in Bountiful, Utah. I literally didn’t know one single person in Bountiful that wasn’t Mormon. And at the opposite end of the spectrum, I got to know a number of General Authorities in the LDS Church – two of them the first week I lived in Utah, and more than a dozen within the next few years. I met them, got to know their families, visited in their homes – and it was great, but I certainly didn't need to share my beliefs with them. I wasn’t trying to hide being a Mormon, it’s just that when literally everyone else is Mormon and believes the same things that you believe – well, what’s the point?

   Then I started working. One of the earliest jobs I had was working for the Family History Department of the LDS Church – again, surrounded by Mormons. I loved the environment, the people, and everything about the job. We even started our workday every morning with Scripture Reading and an Opening Prayer. Not every department does that, but it was actually important to our job to be Spiritually In-Tune.

   But my next job was VERY different. I went to work at an interior design company working on the then-new Primary Children’s Hospital. It was a fabulous job, but it was an interesting and diverse group of people. My boss was LDS, a Returned Missionary, and Gay – not a common combination, especially in the 1980s. I was young, and he was authoritative and a bit confrontational – and it was awkward and uncomfortable.

   And that’s kindof been my pattern – I’ve either worked places that were predominantly Mormon (like Franklin Covey and Tahitian Noni), or quite the opposite (like Essante and InvesTools). And again at this last job with DirecTV, I had another boss who was Mormon and Gay – and somehow she was the “Resident Mormon”. When we’d all get together, with a team that lives across the country and comes from every walk of life – if the subject of religion came up, she would share the Mormon Viewpoint. Now, admittedly she was usually pretty on-point doctrinally – but she is not actively attending church, and is very vocally Gay and in a Committed Relationship.

   To me, being Mormon is more than just knowledge about what The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints teaches and preaches. It’s about how you choose to live. And although I was born and raised in the Mormon Church, I haven’t always been an active participant.

   Not long after I got married, my new husband got into a fight with our new bishop – and refused to attend church anymore. I tried to continue attending, but after only a few weeks he began to resent that I was attending church instead of spending all of Sunday with him. I can still remember standing in our Living Room and having to make a decision: I could continue to attend church every week, but my then 3-month marriage would continue to face the growing strain his resentment was creating; OR, I could focus on my marriage and my husband, and give him time to get over his hard feelings – because the church would always be there when he was ready. So I chose my marriage – and ended up being Inactive for the next decade. Oh, we’d go to family things like baptisms, blessings, etc. – but when it was just the two of us, we never went to church.

   Then 6 years ago, when we moved to Provo I made one rule: I am going to attend church, and you are not allowed to say anything negative about it. I really didn’t care if he went, but I had missed everything about it – and I wanted to have Church back in my life. Standing up for myself and my beliefs was one of the best things I've ever done for myself -- and it literally got me back on the right path and changed the course of my life in so many beautiful ways.

   I’m a Mormon because I want to be a Mormon. I grew up in a very Mormon home, and I genuinely loved everything about it. And I spent a chunk of my adult-life without it – and I know that I’m happier now that I am back to attending every week and being actively engaged and participating. And I like the Mormon-y things that aren’t part of Sunday worship too – like personal prayer and scripture reading and trying to live a Christ-like life. Being Mormon is actually more about what happens behind closed doors at home and within my own heart than it is about any of the Sunday services or other meetings.

   Tonight I went to the very first showing of a new movie:  Meet the Mormons. It was great! But I do think a better title might be:  "Meet Some Exceptional People (BTW – they're Mormon)". Because the thing that really stood out to me is that these are Ordinary People striving to live Extraordinary Lives. And really, isn’t that what we all want?

   Meet the Mormons is a full-length documentary, showing in movie theaters – in select locations. If you want to know what Mormons are really about, stop in to see it. Just go to Fandango.com, type in “Meet the Mormons”, and it will list the times and places.

   There’s a great theme song for the movie by David Archuleta called “Glorious” – and you can get a free download of it here (thru Facebook) or see the YouTube video here. Because, as the song says – It’s Glorious! 

   So, yes, I am a Mormon. I know it. I live it. And I love it.