Paycheck to Paycheck

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Whenever the posts show on the internet about financial status in the country and around the world, I feel fairly blessed. While I don't live in a poor state or have a stellar paycheck, I know I am living beyond the dreams of avarice compared to most people. One faculty member told me last week that he finally caught up on his bills. Another told me a few months ago that by the end of this year they will finally be debt free except for their house. Another professor dumped his long term girlfriend because she "bled money". My bishop's son told me that he and his new bride have $15,000 in student debt between them. I have a friend who is in grad school and sometimes runs out of food. It's been so long since I was in that place, that I don't appreciate not having to worry about it. I remember it well. I was married then too.

Historically, I live better than most people ever have, including many "affluent" people of yesteryear. Most of my ancestors would consider me wealthier than they ever imagined. I have climate control, indoor plumbing, electricity, and the ability to buy whatever food I like any time of the year. Some of them never traveled at all, and few of them found themselves able to collect old books, numismatic items, historical artifacts, tools, etc. In all of history, most people were subsistence farmers, and I think they would be aghast to learn I garden "for fun". Even today, many countries are reeling in debt, poverty, disease, and famine. By the statistics, based on my per person household income, I'm in the top 10% of wealthy people even today and in the top 50% of Americans. The best financial decision I ever made was to get divorced, but that's another story.

Compared to other Americans, I live better than most despite my modest income. Many of my neighbors proudly display their belongings in an essentially vain attempt at one-upmanship. I don't mind if you own things; I rather suspect however that their things own them. I see license plate holders on fancy cars that proclaim purchases made at places that charge confiscatory interest rates, and I shudder every time I see a student drop their smartphone, knowing that those things are not cheap. I am already to the stage in expenses where I buy things because they need replacing or because I don't own enough. I was never really interested in keeping up with the Joneses or with putting on a show, so even though I have two cars, the "nicer" one is simply in better aesthetic condition and is still 11 years old. I don't live beyond my means. I have food in the pantry, clothes on my back, and money left over from every paycheck. I have coworkers who can't say that.

I learned early on that the outcome of your income matters more than the size of your income. Far too many people expand their expenses with their income. When new professors make tenure, most of them immediately finally buy their first new car or their dream car. I find it odd to commit to swim in debt just because you finally have a steady paycheck. I however get no additional satisfaction out of having $1000 extra than $100 extra, because extra money is discretionary. True, I work my way down the wishlist of "what if" and buy myself things I think I desire to travel to places I desire to see, but otherwise the greatest feeling is when the outcome of your income is that your income exceeds your outcome. One fellow I know years ago became a millionaire at 23 and immediately bought a Ferrari. Now that he's a pauper again, his friends and stuff is all gone. I rather think that some people will spend everything they earn if they can no matter how large their paycheck is, and I have very little interest in spending time with people who don't understand the value thereof.

It's been so long since I lived paycheck to paycheck, that I forget how many people live that way. I have some coworkers who, despite having two incomes in their household, struggle to make their bills and stagger under mountains of debt. Our society is awash with debt, from cars to homes to student loans to spending addictions. I already mentioned the family I helped move after they were evicted for inability to pay rent. I have a dear friend in graduate school who also barely makes ends meet. I have enough, by contrast, to not only pay all of my bills but also to do what I like and buy what I desire (within reason) every year, and even if a disaster struck, I do have six months salary in savings for use in an emergency and money in my IRA.

Extra money gives you independence because it gives you options. You don't have to decide which bill to ignore. You don't have to decide which child to leave out at Christmas. You don't have to split small amounts of food into many mouths. There was a famous Hollywood actor, the story goes, who kept $1000 in a drawer in his office. This was his "walking away money". If he was offered a role he didn't want, he knew he had $1000 in his desk and didn't have to take it if he found it illegal, unethical or immoral. He didn't have to rely on others. Now, that was decades ago, but imagine how it might empower you to know that, whatever disaster may strike, you have $1000 sitting around. You don't have to accept the terms. You have options. You can walk away. You are free.

Unexpected Obstacles

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Simple tasks far too often reveal unexpected obstacles. Last Saturday, my dad helped me make some essential repairs on my 1995 Saturn. When we tore apart the knuckle joint to replace the wheel bearings, I learned very quickly why the shop quoted me $250 to do it. Despite finding a video showing two country yokles who managed it in what appeared to be a relatively easy fashion, we realized they got lucky. Everything that could go wrong did, and eventually we went over to the junk yard to pull a different knuckle joint with functional bearings from a different 1995 Saturn. I still have no idea how exactly you get the parts off that we couldn't get off, even though we did essentially what those two knuckle heads on youtube did, and I appreciate the cost quoted now. Next time, I'll accept the price and demand it in writing... Even then, it was difficult to procure a replacement knuckle joint. They put the cars up on welded rims to make it easier to get underneath, but it means you have no leverage to loosen the nut holding the wheel hub assembly together. We had basically one shot, and because my dad is a hero, the car is back on the road, and it's quieter than ever.

When we face unexpected obstacles, it pays to turn to someone who knows what they are doing, especially if they know what they are doing. All too often, we rely on ourselves, refuse to ask for help, and insist that things are fine. When times get tough, we push away the people who are interested in, willing to, and capable of helping us. Especially in things that really matter in life, we don't look to older, wiser, smarter, more skilled or even divine sources of help because of our pride, because we don't want to appear weak and incapable. I know that especially in Vegas it doesn't make me look competitive if I don't have all the answers or do everything myself. Then again, admitting my reliance on a Savior and my willingness to be taught hasn't earned me the respect of people my own age.

When we face unexpected obstacles, they constitute learning opportunities. My dad was willing to help tackle this because he has never tried it. His suburban is the only car he ever bought new, and none of the other cars he owned ever had this many miles or this much wear, so it was a new challenge. He likes to work on cars, to try and fix things. In addition to his "love language" this is his hobby, and I think he'd do it for a living if he thought it paid enough. Each step presented new opportunities to try something new, to apply knowledge and ultimately to pick a better technique. What the hillbillies made it seem takes two hours tops took us eight, and we didn't see them do some of the steps, and we still never actually got the old parts separated. After finals, I'll go over to the autotech folks and ask them questions, and maybe they'll even help me get the old bearing assembly off and reaffirm my confidence if it turns out it's no so easy as the internet makes it appear.

When we face unexpected obstacles, often they provide a chance to do something completely unexpected that works just as well if not better. My dad and I thought we'd simply follow the example of some bumbling nincompoops. After all, if they can do it, then we can too. Fate however threw us a different pitch, showing us anew the difference between skill and luck, forcing a change. Completely replacing the knuckle joint, replete with already installed bearings, allowed us to skip all the work of hitting things with a hammer, making sure they were level, and not dorking up a part. It was actually easier to do, the same cost, and even if I end up having to go get ANOTHER knuckle joint from one of the other four saturns at the junk yard, I can probably achieve it in an hour or two tops. It's so much nicer to find an easy way to do a difficult task.

When we face unexpected obstacles, it helps us appreciate and value things we take for granted. Next time the bearings go out, if someone quotes me $250, i know from personal experience to agree, get it in writing, and then laugh all the way to the bank. Although it's entirely possible that it's easier with the correct tools, this is also the first time I've EVER replaced the bearings in almost 300,000 miles, so the odds of needing the tools again is low. When you pay someone you essentially pay for their expertise. I give away tons of free advice, free labor, and other types of free assisstance, but that works because it's not my livelihood. After that, I have another job that pays all my bills so that I can be free with my other intellectual capital. I took for granted that it was just another easy fix, and I took for granted just how many decades those bearings lasted. Now that the car's quiet, I wonder if the bearings have been bad for a long time or if something else was wrong with the assembly which went away when I swapped out the entire lot.

The simple fact of life is that life isn't really all that simple. As soon as you become an adult, you discover that adults really aren't as smart and capable as you think. Many of them are winging it, making it up as they go, and some of them are totally clueless. When we were teenagers, we thought we knew everything, and then the truly wise among us admit and learn as they grow older that they are otherwise. I know that my life in general hasn't turned out any way like I expected. Although my sister would tell you that I'm playing the cards that I was dealt very well, the hands are not very good sometimes, and sometimes even when I play well, I don't have anything to show for it. I know that I live a good life, that I had good opportunities, and that things really are well, even when I take them for granted. I appreciate the chances to learn about myself, to learn about new people, to go places and see things that i never planned to because I am glad of some of the unexpected friends I made. I keep appealing to my Father God for help handling, wisdom understanding, and solutions altering my familial circumstance. I know that, even if things don't turn out as I hope, something else might happen that works better and is more satisfying than I ever imagined. Each job, each house, each woman I seriously date, and other aspects of my life continue to resound with upgrades and improvements. God knows what is really good and necessary for me. For now, at least, He understands that this is better than the alternatives, and except in the case of one unfortunate event, I agree in hindsight that He was wise and thank Him that things didn't turn out the way I thought they would.

The "It's My Body" Canard

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As I loaded my car to leave campus today, I caught part of a conversation between two philosophy students about something that just isn't true as they prattle it. I have very little respect for the soft sciences because they deal in nuance and rhetoric more than in facts and measurements but are treated as far more practical, valid, and praiseworthy than my religion. We must be at that point in the semester where the students discuss their rights and freedoms without concern with or discussion of the concomitant responsibilities. These young people engage in many things no longer considered taboo that do not however help them do anything other than arrive at logical fallacies and rationalization. Yes it is your body, but no you may not do whatever the Sam Houston you want with it. Sometimes what you do affects others.

Far too many people abuse their bodies and then demand that other people carry the consequences. Most of my students are aspiring medical professionals who know they may end up caring for people who didn't care for themselves. If you, by virtue of negligence or abuse, put your body in a place where I am obligated with mine to take care of you, it's not your body to do with as you please any more. Who gives you the right to decide, because you shot heroin or contracted Hepatitus C in an orgy, that I ought to use my body to earn money to pay for your treatment? Isn't it also my right to use my body as I please if you claim that right for yourself? Yet, they will burden, by taxes or fiat or appeal to pity, other people to carry the consequences of their aberrant and abhorrent choices when their bodies become a prison instead of a portal.

One of the most obvious experiments among young people is with intimacy. Despite the fact that contraception has been around in the western world since at least before the Spanish Armada, too many young people regard pregnancy with the wanton disregard Philip paid Elizabeth and end up losing their floatilla in the channel. They tell us that we can't tell them that they ought not or look down on them if they do because it's their body. If your body can bring life into this world, and you do, it's no longer your body to do with as you please. Perhaps this is why so many people are fascinated with abortion, because the obligation of carrying, caring for, and focusing on someone else imposes on their desire to do whatever they like. Creating new life is not a privilege every human enjoys or one that every human deserves, and when you undertake activities that lead to that without regard for the innocent and completely helpless life you create, you are fit for scorn. I have at least 10 pregnant students this term, and only one of these was on purpose. That's not your body, and you can't just do whatever you like. What if your parents had done it to you?

If it's your body, then the consequences and responsibilities are yours too. You are the one who must occupy it and live with yourself 24/7, so if you're not willing to bear the consequences of your actions you have no right to do whatever it is you do with your body. Many people do beat the odds and smoke or do drugs or fornicate ad nauseum for decades without apparent consequences, but not every bodily harm is visible, and almost none of the damage to the soul is visible to the eye. Even Charlie Sheen's attitude couldn't keep him from staying positive. You hurt yourself when you make poor choices. You hurt other people who care about you, taught you, raised you, stuck out their necks for you, believe in you, pay money to send you to school or buy clothes or feed you. You hurt your job prospects and longevity and quality of life when you "eat, drink and act merry". You hurt your posterity if you smoke while pregnant, get pregnant out of wedlock, catch an STD, or die in a stupid stunt.

A close acquaintance of mine watched her life fall apart last year because of stupid decisions made by other people, and those people probably don't know or care. Her husband of 12 years cheated on her with at least one other woman, but probably more, giving her a terminal illness. Then, he left her and their two sons. Since he was the one with a job, she wasn't prepared to enter the workforce, and although she tried valiantly, she lost her home when she lost her jobs and in so doing lost much of her stuff. Her bosses were uncaring about her predicament, staffed her when she needed to be home, and burnt her out. She has no money, no car, no husband, few friends, and nowhere to turn. Then, in February of this year, her son died in a motorcycle accident. Two weeks ago, I helped her pack her stuff in a moving van and sent her off to Colorado to live with her grandmother. It's your body, yes, but what you do with it doesn't always stop with you. This man's decisions left a swathe of desolation, dejection, and destitution in their wake. Meanwhile he is off in the Caribbean hanging out with shallow women in a vain attempt to slake his lusts, and my acquaintance is trying to pick up the shattered pieces of her life and start over again at age 46. It's not your body. It's ours. We hurt when you hurt. We bleed when you bleed. We pay when you play. We are well only when you take care of yourself as best you can. Someone has to pay the piper.

Peace, Be Still

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I've been thinking a lot about Easter and the Atonement of Christ in preparation for Easter this year for a specific reason. I've been asked to address the congregation at church for Easter Sunday, which will be the first time in almost six years since I spoke in church. One of the images that stuck out in my mind yesterday as I pondered what I could say, what I should say, and what God would have me say seemed like a message to me as much as in times of old. The Disciples, mired in a storm aboard a flimsy boat whilst Christ slept, wake Him and implore Him for help. He rises and commands them as well as the elements, "Peace, Be still." For reasons and in ways I cannot describe in words, I felt like that message was for me. Be still, trust me, and hold your peace, for I, the Savior, will take care of any storms that rage in your life. I am frustrated, and I am upset, and I am hurt, but one of the most important parts of Christ's mission was to bear our griefs and carry our sorrows and take away our pain so that we can know peace, joy, and love. Like most people, I want to change it. I am wise enough to know that I can't do it myself if I can do it at all, and so this message as Christ calms the storms resonated deeply and personally with me.

My hiking buddy called me Friday night to advise me to move. Despite the service my friendship provides, he feels increasingly sure that I will remain single the rest of my life if I don't move out of Vegas. Apparently Thursday he met this fantastic woman who was only here for work but who decided to go hiking on a tough trail at Red Rock before work that day. She kept up despite being someone who lived in London. Now, I would never have met this woman. I have to be at work at 730AM on Thursdays, and I don't live in London, so how would we meet without divine intervention? Part of the prognostication is that other places bring better opportunities. One of the reasons my sister attended graduate school in Utah was on the theory that being around people with likeminded goals and values would lead to increased quantity and quality interactions with members of the opposite sex. It didn't work for her. Instead, she went about her life, followed a vocational opportunity, and is now dating a fine young man seriously with whom she works in Kansas. Now, nobody I know would advise me to go to Kansas, but if it's supposed to happen, it will, even if you make a mistake or go to the wrong place, even if you meet someone in Kansas. More to the point, Jay keeps meeting these people. I don't. The people I meet don't answer the phone, respond to texts, or confess they know me. Most of the people I meet very quickly tell me they already have a boyfriend, and I seem to attract more gay men than straight women. From a strictly actuarial position, I understand Jay's math- the odds are better in a place where I'm no longer average because I'm no longer surrounded by pretentious, prodigious, and pretty people. In Columbus, OH, I am a ten.

Some Polish girls I knew as a missionary in Austria suggested I move. They can tell that I am frustrated in my job because of the GOBNet that runs higher education in Nevada. I am wise enough to realize that any other job in any other place comes with politics of its own, that people will still annoy me, and that I will still not be the best paid because I don't lick boots or dig dirt. Changing location or vocation will only change the way the challenges look. The challenges will remain. They pay you to work because it's difficult, because not everyone can or will do it, and because not everyone will do it as well as you do for that paltry sum. Notwithstanding my frustrations, I told one of the congregational leaders at the beginning of the term that I knew I was supposed to talk to and reach out to a student this semester. God already told me that I will be here as long as there is work for Him to do. I could take another job, perhaps for higher pay, but I would sacrifice the flexibility, the access to young people, the respect of the community, and my gym membership. I could move to another place, but I would lose the few friends I have and everything else. It seems silly to me to throw away everything I have for a chance with no guarantee at things I currently lack.

People who care about me, but chiefly my parents, warn me that I may have hurt myself vocationally by crusading against persons in positions of power. I have confronted government, civic, educational, business, and ecclesiastical persons in this city and state. I have done this because I felt it was the right thing to do, even if it wasn't necessarily good for me. I have trusted that God would look out for me because He has. I keep an Austrian shilling on the bookshelf in the living room at home as a reminder of God's promise that my barrel of meal and cruse of oil shall not fail as long as I do what is right. One month, that was all I had to my name when the next month's deposit arrived. When my first boss at NSHE was replaced in a restructuring, she wrote me that "your courage to speak the truth when you face possible personal ramifications has earned my respect." My current congregational leaders think I'm the best person to address the congregation for Easter Sunday even though I am one of the youngest, even though I am single, even though I have a beard, and even though I speak my mind. A local federal judge finally told me a few years after our verbal altercation that he would be pleased to serve with me any time. I do not back down. I do not dance. Evil men may kill the servants of God, but they cannot stop the message or hide their sins. God has always rescued His people and made them mighty because of their faith unto the power of deliverance. If the time here is ended, He will lead me out of Egypt.

The simple fact of the matter is that God knows exactly where I am, what I'm doing, who I am, and why. He knows this because He directed me here. I confess I don't understand why I live in this house, work for this school, attend this congregation, or live in this time or city. What I do know is that God sends people where they are needed most. During the meridian of time, He sent His Son to Nazareth. He didn't send the Savior to a rich town, a large town, a prosperous town, or an important town. Although Nazareth is symbolic in their culture, it doesn't really rank in terms of other places historically or in the modern era. Like Las Vegas, it was a barren place, both because it was also in the desert as well as because of the people's behavior in the wake of Roman oppression. While there, Christ indeed found good men, doing the best they could, raising good families, and trying to obey the direction of God as well as they understood it. They did not need to live in Rome or Paris or Stockholm or Adelaide or San Francisco in order to matter, and they didn't have to go to those places to serve Him or be part of His story. As a matter of fact, while alive, Christ came to the people Himself. He called them. He found them. He went to them. As I sat and pondered that story, I felt, very strongly, that God wanted me to be at peace and stay still, to stay where I am, doing what I do, and being myself. I have known this for a long time. Things can change. They will when it's time, in His time, when they can, when He wills them to be, when other people choose to be with me, when He brings them into my path. I do not have to look for happiness, a partner for life, prosperity, or peace. Wherever they are, whenever it's right, His blessings will come out of nowhere and enter my life. There are good people and good opportunities here too just like there were in Nazareth, just like my sister found in Kansas. It might be Sin City, but even in Sodom there were a handful of good men. I look for His will and do it wholeheartedly, and the rest will follow when it can.

Genius and Parenthood

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About a week ago, I came across a succinct summation of Einstein's life that listed major milestones in his rise to prominence. In addition to the scientific discoveries you might expect, the summary included the births of his children, and in that information I noticed something curious. Most, if not all, of Einstein's brilliance is coupled with and coincidental to the birth of his children, assuming that he was around for the child. Absent for the birth of his first bastard daughter, she doesn't seem to correlate with any breakthroughs in his life in any fashion, although he did finally get a job (as a patent clerk, an embarrassment for a PhD). When I mentioned this to my hiking buddy, he confessed that he noticed the same thing in himself.  He also told me he wasn't surprised at all that I noticed that, absent any experience myself as a father.

Birth of a child appears coupled to an increased, albeit transitory, awareness of the world around a person. Flashes of inspiration and increased information attend a new concern for, awareness of, and attention to what goes on around you when you have someone for which you look out and for whom you are responsible. Since young children are not capable of noticing, responding correctly, or watching their own back, the parents of young children find themselves not only laden with responsibility for this but also with an increased capacity so to do. Although it seems designed specifically to protect the young, the increased intuition often manifests itself in flashes of brilliance tangent, skew, or even completely exigent to that specific realm of accountability. Ergo, parents often discover and make the best contributions of their lives concurrent with their tenure as parents. However, for most parents, this increased acumen fades with time, and they resort back to their basal state when the children increase in self-sufficiency.

Parent intuition is a well known phenomenon. Over the past several months, I saw many videos, pictures, and articles identifying the innate parental intuition of parents with extremely young children when those children were in danger. Almost without paying direct attention, these parents caught falling children, stopped dangerous accidents, and otherwise were able to, with their spider sense, rescue the innocents from danger. When I was young, my parents knew when there was something wrong, even if they were totally erred about the reason for my consternation. My hiking buddy and my friend in Philadelphia both indicated that some of the ideas of which they are most proud were developed concurrently with the birth of children. In essence, their "brain children" came along in many cases with their real ones.

Not everyone with children has brilliant ideas and not all brilliant ideas are linked to children, but those with children report a different perspective. When your focus changes, you see things differently than you did before, which gives you insight you lacked previous to that event. maybe things fit together better or make more sense or maybe you actually find the motivation to study them. My mother had to go back and reteach herself things so that she could help us, and some of that learning experience with someone who's learning it the first time gives a greater appreciation and a different degree of comprehension now that you're learning it for something more than taking a test. I find in teaching that I make new connections or find better ways of expressing things a I talk to people learning something for the first time, and even my med student who is retaking general chemistry for a better grade is learning things he didn't know. If nothing else, children invite you to revisit, to question, to investigate, and to apply things you think you already know for a different purpose because you're trying to help someone else become better than you.

Perhaps one reason I haven't contributed more to the world as yet lies in the fact that I don't have any children. One of my students yesterday afternoon pointed out that I seem to know quite a bit about quite a wide array of topics. I confess that I'm not as smart, intelligent or wise as many people think, including myself betimes, but he has a point. Imagine what I might be able to deduce, conclude, develop, engineer, postulate, or produce if I were a father or ever had been. My hiking buddy, although his youngest child is 24, still experiences flashes of brilliance. Despite my lack of children, he notices these flashes in me. He thinks that I would make a great father and that fatherhood would also make me greater. Although I cannot prove that Einstein's children evoked some of his greatest contributions to science, their timing cannot be coincidental. I am old and wise enough that I no longer believe in coincidence, only the illusion of coincidence. We all think of Einstein as an old man, and many people don't know he had kids, only that he had a niece. However, his ideas were older than that. He brought them to America after he was much older, so they were only new to us. Until he became a parent, Einstein was a moron, doomed to an ignominious and lackluster life in a patent office. His insights became apparent as he became a parent. Imagine what you learn even if just about yourself by becoming a parent and raising hemi-clones of your own.

Something Scientific

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I resurrected my other blog today, which deals primarily with scientific things, because of the need to spread something a colleague in the department wrote. You may read it here if you like: http://whatdidntwork.blogspot.com/2016/03/spreading-ignorance.html

I Care and I Don't

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My students often broach awkward topics with me. One of those awkward topics that arose last week revolved around the visage I present to the world. One very young man pointed out abruptly and rudely, "You really don't care what people think about you, do you?" When I pressed why, he told me that my wardrobe was lousy. In my defense, my Sunday School class told me that I dress better than this guy does, but then again they only see me in a suit my parents bought me when I was 19, and they know this guy shops at Hollister. However, there are things that matter to young people, to women, to employers and to the world in general that don't matter to me. Some things do matter, and sometimes it does matter, but most of the time, I am doing what I like. As long as it's legal, ethical, and moral, you may do what you like too.

I care about utility. The student condescended on me because of the clothing I wear. I wear Wrangler Jeans, which is apparently very agrarian and passe, but it comes down to practicality for me. Many of the vogue trendy brands didn't exist when I was 16, and so I found a brand I liked at a price I can afford and then kept buying them. Same thing with my car. It runs, it's super cheap to operate, and it gets me from A to B. Most people buy things not for utility but to impress other people. As long as my clothes are clean and mended and fit, I wear what I like.  I don't dress for you anyway.  You've doubtless heard the adage "We spend money we don't have buying things we don't need to impress people we don't like". Superficial? Maybe, but so are the people judging you. If you're out to impress others, that's how you must spend. However, one of the girls in my Sunday School class spoke in church and admitted that she was unhappy living her life to please other people. I'm glad she realized that as early as she did. Most people don't seem to learn it for years if ever.

I care about company. All I really look for in friends and romance is someone who provides good conversation and treats me well. When the company is right, I do dress up to see the opera or the philharmonic, to attend a play or to teach the first few weeks of class. I always wear the best I have to church, not because it's required but because I care about Christ. Last year I realized that I will only invite people in if I really care about and value their company, and when I do I work to provide a comfortable and caring place and environment for them whilst in my presence. Since I don't let a conga line of people I don't know or don't like traverse my abode helter skelter, I don't usually worry about keeping my house in order "just in case someone important comes". I know God cares more about who I am than how I decorate, the disposition of my heart than the degree of grime in the bathtub, and with where I drive more than what.

I care about principles. My parents and grandparents instilled in me a fundamental understanding that what's inside matters much more than how things appear to be. I realize when I sit in church that many of the people appear to be happier or better matched than they truly are. People like to display the best parts of themselves and hide their skeletons in dark closets. Some of the teenagers I teach in Sunday School have ironically and surprisingly decided to open up about things and share things with me they may not have told their parents. When a student handed me a pink pen in class this week and asked if I was ok using one, I asked what color it wrote, and then told them not only did what was inside matter more but that I was secure enough in my masculinity to use a "pink" pen. I work very hard to BE a good person, to be me and consistently the same person in every group I happen to inhabit, and to be someone of character rather than everyone's favorite character. When I discover friends aren't doing things or being people with whom I want to associate, I don't cut them off, but I also don't invite them to my house or spend time with them engaged in things I find objectionable. I do not choose women based on their wardrobe, their cars, their jobs, or their paychecks unless they arrived at those things in an illegal or immoral way, and I don't discard friends for their wild hair, dilapidated dwellings, derelict vehicles, or any of that other rotgut.

When I care, I have the means to show. My late friend Tracie was surprised to see me in a suit for the first time and said I cleaned up well. When I go to church, on a date, to the first lectures of the year, I wear a nice suit and drive my Malibu so that I come across as professional and look presentable. It would not do well to dress like a vagabond or show up with sweat marks under my pits. I dress well for church things, not to impress God, but as a sign of respect for Him. He knows who I am on the inside, but I'm not going to demand that He accommodate my preferences. I don't care what you think if what you think is based on a superficial summation of external information. What you think of my decor, my wardrobe, and my car tells me more about you than those things tell you about me, particularly since I do them as a litmus test rather than because that's how I idealize life. The right people won't care about those things. The right woman won't care about my job, my paycheck, my wardrobe, my car, or my decor; she will care about character. She did, and I miss her for her company, for who she was. I do care. I care about different things than most people. Some day this student will probably realize I had a point. Older people agree with me. I wish the younger people would at least try to understand me.

Why Christians Seem Jubilant

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Most people who meet me seem surprised I am a Christian. Perhaps it lies in the fact that I'm a scientist and professor. Perhaps it lies in the fact that I don't seem as excited. By contrast, most of the Christian world "makes a joyful noise" even if I find that noise boisterous, blasphemous, or belligerent. Even if the tone, timbre, beat, rhythm and rhyme of the music drives away the spirit of God, they still understand that as Christians they are better off one day. They understand it better than other religions. You can go watch their services, attend their concerts, learn about revivals and gawk in disbelief as they jump around, shout hallelujah and sing along in chorus. However, they are jubilant for a reason. No matter what, Christ makes life better. He makes it meaningful. He gives them hope for a better world even if things don't work out as they like in this one. I can't think of any better news than that, and it changed my perspective on life to realize this. Life really is good because of Christ.

Christians have been saved from death. Many people fear death. They fear meaning nothing. They fear a cessation to their hopes, their dreams, their plans, and their lives. Through the resurrection of Christ, death is no longer an end. Every man will rise. If nothing else brings you joy, this should. Your life matters. Your relationships matter. You will continue on, not just as an energetic cloud of light and energy without form or function, but as a person doing useful work with a purpose. What you do matters. Who you are matters. You will live forever and be able to continue to enjoy many if not all of the things you enjoyed here during your mortal probation.

Christians have been saved from sin. Since Christ hung for a moment, you are not required to hang for a moment of your life in all perpetuity. Through Christ's suffering in Gethsemane, sin no longer means that men must suffer for their mistakes. Every man gets a chance to start over with a clean slate. Far too many Christians take this as license to do whatever they like after they spout a verbal allegiance to Christ without acting like they mean it and appreciate it afterwards, but it really is a matter of grace. You can start over when you make mistakes with a clean slate, a clear conscience, and "I the Lord remember them no more." I hate it when people bring up the past, even when it's stupid and minor things like forgetting my sleeping bag for our trip to Bryce Canyon, but we are not responsible for the things other people do, and in some cases, Christ takes care of the stupid and sometimes rebellious things that we do.

No matter what, they know that things will get better. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but some day, everything will be better than it is now. True, there will still be things to suffer, things to overcome, and challenges that make you feel like you just can't manage, but some day, it will be a better world, not because of anything we do, but because of what Christ did. I never really understood why Jehovah's Witnesses gain proselytes until now. Although only 144,000 will be "exalted" the rest look forward to a better world than this one ever will be. If you knew that no matter what, things get better, would that be good news? Would you subscribe to that if your life is miserable, menial, and mediocre? Christianity promises us that, after we leave this life, we go to a better one, an upgrade, a replacement, beyond our wildest dreams, and for nothing other than the fact that Christ came. Even if you don't really want it, because you lived on this planet, the next life, the next world, will be better.

If no matter what, through Christ, you can look forward to a bright future, that is reason to rejoice. Your life has meaning. Your relationships with family, friends, and your Faith persist. You will overcome death. You will avoid having to spend any more time with the devil one day. This is, interestingly enough, a tenant of my own Faith. Joseph Smith taught that if we knew what the lowest kingdom of glory was like, we would kill ourselves to get there right now. Of course, that would be the end of our increase, but some people are so happy about the prospect of something so much happier they cannot conceive of it that they will do almost anything to end their suffering here. There will still be suffering, but one day that must end. There will still be happiness, and that will continue even after you cast off your mortal coil. Bad things end, and good things persist. Hallelujah!

Continued HOA Oppression

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I never wanted to live in a Home Owner's Association (HOA), and I never will again. The only reason I live in one now is because after nine months of searching, I was too lazy and too committed at the title company to do what I ought to have done. I ought to have refused to buy this house because it was in a HOA, but I wanted a house, and I liked this one, but I do not like how the HOA treats me. Since my early days, I have been constantly harassed by the HOA in a roundabout manner, and it feels more personal than it should. Whenever I see mail from the HOA, my mood grows dour, and I wonder what new travesty arose since the last communique. Last Friday night, the sum of all fears were realized when I received two summons the day after my birthday to appear for a hearing (which is essentially a trial without a jury of my peers) to decide what is to be done with me. I feel under oppression, where a few so-called intellectual elite can pass judgment on me by happy circumstance of their being "elected" simply because nobody else bothered to run. The details of the rules are deleted, omitted or missing, and I have to wait until I find out I broke the law in order to fix it. Thereby I am always guilty until proven innocent, if I can prove that in the first place. I just want to be left alone.

The decisions are subjective. The day before Christmas last year, I received the complaints in the mail. Merry Christmas! As soon as I returned, I rectified the situation. On February 23rd, the HOA president rode around with the inspector and they colluded that I was still in violation. Ok, my plants were dormant, and I'm trimming them neatly. That may not fit their opinion of neatly, but why is their opinion more valid than mine? None of these people have ever talked to me. Instead, they handle it passive aggressively and file complaints which arrive in the mail and sour my evenings when I visit the mailbox. I handle the complaints, and then they decide it doesn't meet their muster. They complain about things without verifying the facts or without considering that I have a different plan than they do. On the word of two people, I am not in compliance. Well, I haven't complained about anyone yet, but I just looked up the addresses of record of the board members, and you bet your bottom dollar I will watch their properties like a hawk and report every minor infraction that "doesn't meet my definition of good maintenance".

The descriptions are vague. The "standards" call for "Maintenance of Lots -- All owners must keep there (sic) lawns, shrubs, and trees trimmed, pruned, and well maintained." That's all it says. Besides the illiterate typo, they are well maintained, but compared to what? Compared to some arbitrary standard from the HOA president and some "independent" third party? Let's not pretend that other people aren't taking good care and that I'm the only one with "problems". Let's not pretend that my house is dragging down home values, particularly since home values in my neighborhood are rising. How do I comply with something that vague without causing a problem?

The members are bullies. Complaints arose many months ago blaming me for scorpions in a neighbor's house, attributing their presence to "overgrowth" in my front yard. First of all, "who is this that darkeneth counsels by words without knowledge?" Do they have any proof or are they just alleging that? The renters were friends with the HOA president, who is not apparently concerned at all with the weed growth along that person's yard but is concerned about my yard. Of course, the HOA took them for their word, filed a complaint, and ordered me to comply. Meanwhile, I know from talking to the renters that they paid someone to spray. If they are spraying, then they are paying that company too much. Secondly, they didn't see any scorpions on MY property, and if they did, why were they trespassing on my property without my permission? Power is almost always bad. It attracts the villainous and corrupts the virtuous. Who will guarantee that I wouldn't, if elected to the board, reciprocate and abuse the power to beat them into submission?

They are not qualified to make these judgments. I don't know what their credentials are to lead or to criticize my work. I did almost all of the work myself, including the seasonal maintenance. I beautified this small spit of land far beyond that achieved by any of my neighbors. I have permission in the first place to landscape my house according to its present state. They gave me permission to plant what I have. They are not arborists or master gardeners or plant physiologists, and while I am not either, I do have an advanced degree in Biochemistry that I earned working for a Plant Physiologist. Everyone knows that plants go dormant in the northern hemisphere during winter, which doesn't mean they are dead. Do I really have to write them every year and remind these uneducated twits that this is normal in winter for plants to "look dead"? How asinine!

They say that I have options, but I only really have two. Firstly, I can run for office and then change the rules. This is risky for them because what stops me from reversing their subjectivity and treating them just as meanly as they treated me? Secondly, I can sell the house. This is not what I desire to do, because I like the house, the location, and the yard, but it may be the only way to be left alone. I am not breaking any law. I am not meeting someone's personal preference, which is not what the CCRs dictate. I probably won't agree with them. There are things I am willing to do, but I am growing my landscaping for me and not for them, and I am not going to do things that cost me money to save them. This is supposed to be about community, but a common interest community is anything but. It's no wonder we don't know our neighbors; they are out there spying on us! If I do stay, I guess I'll run to be on the board and dicker with this bureaucratic morass, because if I don't set the rules, I guess I will be oppressed by them or at least by morons who write them and use them to elevate themselves. At least I would be impartial and objective, a notion these nincompoops apparently find foreign.

Scourge FROM the Indians

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Columbus Day is history for another year, but the arguments caricaturing the Pilgrims remain. While it is true that coincidental issues arose from the melding of two consequences, it is not true that the pilgrims and subsequent migrants acted with intent. While it is true that migrants brought things that hurt the native population, it is not true that the natives didn't reciprocate. We seriously need to stop talking as if the native peoples of North America were virtuous and as if the settlers who came were vile, virulent vermin. We also need to stop pretending that the migrants coming here are virtuous while those of us who are naturalized over generations inherited wickedness in our DNA from our forefathers. Any time two vastly different cultures collide, upsets arise, and sometimes one suffers as a consequence. There was also kindness, neighborliness and harmony. They tell us not to judge Islam based on the acts of a few but slander and libel all European migration based on the hooliganism of a handful.

Most pioneers and pilgrims came to America for a fresh start in a free world. Lest we forget, the Mayflower Compact included tenants of religious tolerance. They weren't here to rape the land for resources like China wants to do to the moon and like everyone assumes America goes to war for oil everywhere. Yes, the Conquistadors did that. They were Spanish, and we see their descendants doing in kind, but I digress. You cannot compare the virtues of the natives with the failings of the migrants. Let's not pretend the natives didn't fight amongst themselves, have territories although they didn't have land "ownership", and that they didn't execute people to assuage their pagain gods in Azteca. I doubt very much the pilgrims specifically handed the natives blankets hoping to kill them with smallpox. We didn't even know about the Germ Theory then. You can't judge the past with present information. We didn't know they didn't have smallpox. We didn't know they didn't drink alcohol like we did. We didn't know they didn't understand the trinkets and beads for Manhattan were payment in perpetuity. They couldn't conceptualize our civilization and we couldn't conceptualize theirs because we'd never encountered such a vast gulf between two civilizations like this that didn't immediately lead to war.

The natives passed things to the newcomers that made their lives worse. Sir Walter Raleigh introduced potatoes and tobacco to the court of Queen Elizabeth. Although Elizabeth tried smoking that particular weed, she never really understood. Other nobles did. Her cousin James wrote a wise and prescient Counterblast to Tobacco after assuming the throne as King upon her death. Today, tobacco smoking consumes untold millions in productivity and casts a toxic cloud in the face of everyone on earth. My hiking buddy spends $40,000 per year on cigarettes and alcohol. That's outrageous! Similarly, potatoes, cotton, and corn left the New World. Potatoes ended up introducing diseases to Europe that wiped out crops and devastated Ireland. Cotton eventually precipitated slave plantations. Corn, well, corn just sucks in every way. Think of how many people are made obese by Frito-Lay! Everyone focuses on the smallpox, the syphilis, and the alcoholism imported to the New World. Let's not forget that the New World exported things to Europe that destroyed European society and the offshoots their colonists founded among the natives.

Not everyone who came to the New World came here with the same intentions. Let's not forget the Conquistadors came for God, Glory, and Gold, but not really God. Far too many people lionize Mexican migrants. If we inherited the propensities of our ancestors, then Mexicans are worse than their northern neighbors. I have Nordic genes too, and the modern politicians lionize Nordic nations as bastions of peace and happiness. You can't have it both ways. I am a native American now. I was born here. Every family member I ever met was also born on American soil to parents born on American soil. What is all this nonsense about "Native peoples Day". I am native. I can't go back to Sweden or Germany or Scottland and receive full suffrage or work or get welfare. This land is my land. This land may be their land, but it is also my home now. Stop prattling about an offense I did not give against people no longer alive to be offended. True certain people came here intending to get rich, but I don't think the nobles awarded colonial charters intended to slaughter everyone and replace the native peoples with a new Europe. I don't think they were thinking longer than 10 years into the future- to move themselves up financially and politically by virtue of the colonies they founded. Most of the British, Scottish, Irish, German, Danish, and Nordic settlers came here to be left alone. They started farms and populated the wilderness. It was the Spanish, primarily, who came with ideas of Empire. Stop unjustly ascribing that attitude to all Europeans. Stop blaming the descendants of other Europeans for the offenses perpetrated by mestizos.

If the original settlers of this continent from Europe were as bad as some claim, they would have come as conquerors and erased the civilizations already extant. It is a mark of European history that warfare and subjugation of second class citizenry coincide with succession of cultures and societies. However, the pilgrims, the puritans, the hugeonauts, and scores of other groups did not travel here in mass, armed to the teeth and then pillage and plunder by pike and powder until they drove out the natives. In fact, that's what the Nordics did (although they didn't come to settle, just to pilfer), but the Nordics are held up as exemplars of how we should be by modern political potentates. My ancestors came to America hoping to start over, to start a life, to do what they pleased, to live and let live. It was the GOVERNMENTS and CORPORATIONS of the old world who came here with imperial intentions, and it is their descendants who now talk with feudalistic fantasies. They are hoping to bring that last vestige of the Old World here and make few rich and powerful on the backs of the rest. That is something the natives share too. They did the same thing. They subjugated and politicked and fought wars. They believe in territory, in warfare, in wealth, in power. They want to do as little as possible and enjoy as much as they can. They are also human. They are also imperfect. Let's not turn a blind eye to the scourge of mankind- pride, vanity, gluttony, greed, lust, sloth, and wrath. They are not a European monopoly. Europeans have virtues too, which you would find if you looked for them. Last week, I helped my parents move a beautiful Danish table made by my great grandfather. I would pay for a table like that. Europeans made good things too, like the United States of America.

Deny Thy Father; Refuse Thy Name

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Growing up in my Faith, I expected potential mates to judge me on the content of my character. I remember vividly in high school how young ladies my age at church spoke glowingly of me but who ignored me when we were at school, apparently to save face with their peers. Over the weekend, someone read a post from 2010 about preference and conviction, in which I opined the influence of parents in the choice of romance. Although we all prattle how much it's "our life" and "our decision" and "nobody can make me do it", all too often the family influence is felt and reverberates to the effect on everyone. Sometimes it's a good thing. Sometimes it's a painful thing. Even if your parents suck, they are still your parents, and so it can be understandably difficult to defy their wishes and counsel, even if they are doing vile and wicked things. No matter what we do, our relationships work better when our parents approve. Like everything else parents support, if they support our relationship choices they will help us make them succeed.

One of my first visits to see BYU Divine Comedy cemented this concept. In one of their skits, they mentioned "a suitable male companion of whom your parents approve". Despite the service played by the campus in helping young ladies get their MRS Degree in Elementary Education, it doesn't always lead to smart matches. My sister once brought a young man home to meet the family, and we couldn't stand being in the room with him for more than a few hours. It helped her see the light and search elsewhere. My parents supported us anyway when I for example chose against their counsel, but that was because they loved me. Only a bully claims they love you and then works to undermine you. Since they loved me, they offered their help. Ultimately it didn't work anyway, but I knew their love was real. I knew they liked me. That was good because the women apparently don't.

With rare exception, I have never dated a woman whose parents liked me. When parents like me, their daughters prefer the company of other men. When the daughters like me, the parents always get in the way. Accordingly, by the time I moved to Vegas, I determined that I would simply skip to the chase when it came to dating and ask permission to date their daughter before we got involved. Since dating to me doesn't imply constant coupling or coupling at all, I'm essentially just asking to spend time with their daughter and court her, after the fashion of yesteryear. Well, some of the father's "weren't going to be fooled by that" because they all "know what every man really wants", and consequently for whatever reasons real or imagined, some young ladies never gained any traction. Those who did were women who were either estranged or emancipated from their parents. My hiking buddy would love me to marry his available daughter; aside from the awkwardness created by dating her dad's best friend, she wasn't really interested in the life I imagine. Although he raised her to that idea, she's not ready to entertain it yet, if ever, and so it doesn't help me that he likes me for his daughter. His parents also liked me, and I think they would have encouraged me to become part of their family if they had a daughter young enough for me to seriously consider. Meanwhile the available women don't like me even if they should, and if they do their parents feel threatened and slander me whenever possible. In one particularly egregious case, it was ok for the twin sister's boyfriend to schtup her regularly, but I was evil from the getgo and would never be good enough. Seriously? Wow.

Once, I broke my own rule. After knowing one young lady for about a year, having developed feelings for her and at my hiking buddy's encouragement, I let her know that I liked her. She persuaded me to not ask her father, because we both knew that he would shut us down and we'd essentially never speak again. Neither one of us wanted to end it, and so we moved forward. Trouble was, eventually we both knew there would be a showdown with him and that she would have to choose. She was worth the risk to see if she would pick me in the end. She didn't. If I had stuck to my plan, we would have never gotten to know one another, which would have been a shame, because she's the best woman I've ever known, at least the best woman for me.

Family makes a great deal of difference, and no matter what you think you do marry a family. Saturday after class, a student who recently filed for divorce from her husband confessed that the only person she ever regretted was because of family interference. One of the lab technicians who preps for my classes told me a month ago that his girlfriend's family had finally consented to them. He was lucky enough that she told him she would leave her family for him. Well, I would never ask that, and neither would he, but I'm glad it's working out for him. It's a very difficult thing to marry well, and it's even more difficult if not impossible when the parents disprove. I know from personal experience that the parents can undermine things, leading to a breakup or even to ultimate divorce both of which happened to me.

No matter how you look at it, Romeo and Juliet is after all a tragedy. It's a tragedy that they both die. Unable to follow their hearts, the starcrossed lovers end up both dead, and both families lose. It's a tragedy that the parents and families hate one another. Before the lovers make their plan confederate, Tybalt is slain in a duel, and the families quarrel in public and private with each other, driving the gulf between them even wider. It's a tragedy that Juliet asks Romeo to deny his father and refuse his name, and it's a tragedy that she is willing to do the same. I wrote years ago about Familial Piety, and in most instances, even if the parents are wrong, they are doing it out of love, out of a desire to protect their children from mistakes. My student who confessed to me Saturday spent the last five years, which might be the prime years of her life, with a man who didn't deserve her and didn't really want to be with her. It is a tragedy that we are not actually able, allowed, or willing to love the people we ought. All too often we hurt those we love and love those who hurt us. Scripture tells us what ought to be. Man and woman leave their parents and become one flesh. They become their own entity, a new family. However, the roots of family trees run deep, and it's difficult to be the black sheep even if it's the right thing to do.

People who really love you won't ask you to change. People you really love will not need to change. Requiring that they leave their family, their faith, their house, their principles, their comic books, their cars, their jobs, etc., as a condition of your love is manipulative. It's not real love. It says, I will love you if you meet my expectations. Imagine how bleak life would be if parents did that with their children, if God did that with us! I do not want to deny her father. I want our grandchildren to see and know and interact with and love their grandparents like I did. I want them to recognize, laud, and honor their ancestors like I do. Everyone has rotten apples in their family tree. It's most unfortunate when it's her parents.