They Call Her Celeste

The story begins in a far away land,
Where Eskimos dwell and bears have command.
Canada’s nice,
If you don’t mind the ice,
Or the milk of a yak in a yellow tin can.

In the town of Drumheller near Willow Point Way,
A young girl grew older with each passing day.
With her nose in a book,
In a comfortable nook,
She drank up her stories as time passed away.


But more than her stories or books that she had,
She loved being home with her mom and her dad.
Playing games with her sisters,
Like Uno and Twister,
‘Twas life’s simple gifts that made her quite glad.

The family soon moved to a land full of mountains,
With towering cliffs and river rock fountains.
And our story’s young girl,
With gold hair and no curls,
Grew up like a weed as the days kept on countin’.


With age came her beauty, and oh how divine!
Her splendor extends from her toes to her spine.
Her eyes aqua blue,
Such a heavenly hue!
God made her with care. She was one of a kind.

The only thing gone from her splendid existence,
Was someone to love without passive resistance,
Then it happened one night.
When a boy caught her sight,
And they went on their first date with his keen persistence.

He was handsome and kind, with a quick-witted tongue,
And he fell for her quickly despite being young,
At first she thought no,
But love started to grow,
When a ballad of love he had wrote had been sung.

“No” turned into “yes,” and “like” turned into “love.”
At times things were rough but when push came to shove,
He knew he loved her,
And he knew she concurred,
Now nothing could stop them except God above.

With the Big Man’s endorsement they were ready to hitch,
There were flowers to order and dresses to stitch,
The big moment came,
Without fortune or fame.
'Twas a magical day without one single glitch.


They’ve traveled the world and had many adventures,
They’ve tried soul food and seafood and many thirst quenchers,
They know Barcelona,
Like experts fide bona,
And the good times won’t stop with old age or cheap dentures.

The man's love for his lady burns brighter and brighter,
Than kerosene mixed with dry paper and lighter.
They call her Celeste,
She’s not good – she’s the best.
And the bond with her true love forever grows tighter.

He's Baaaaaaack!

When I busted out a groovy rap for my students back around Christmastime, I told them it was the last time they'd have a teacher rap for them, and that they should thank their lucky stars for the once-in-a-lifetime experience I had just given them.

And I meant it.

Then, about a month later, I had my students writing some pretty intense research papers about the contrasting philosophies of Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Dubois. As I was proofreading a student's essay, I looked down and saw my finger tapping rhythmically against my desk. Before I knew it, my head was nodding mindlessly to an invisible beat, and words started to creep to the forefront of my mind, completely unbidden. Before I knew it, stanzas with rhyming endings had taken full form in my brain. And when they came, I knew that I couldn't turn them back into the dark recesses of my brain. I had no choice. I had to share them.

But I didn't want to just want to do the same thing I did in December. So I upped the ante. Or I tried to, at least. In the words of EminOlsen, "I guess it's up to you to decide..."

Southern Mormon Talent Show

These two cute old men performed a piano duet. What duet, you ask? Chopsticks. Hilarious.

In the Mormon Church, there are two types of congregations - wards and branches. Wards are larger congregations with enough members of the group to easily divvy up the responsibilities and assignments to help run the church. Branches are smaller congregations, leaving a larger load to be carried among the few faithful members of the church in their geographical area.

Living in rural North Carolina, it is no surprise that Jackson and I attend a small, quirky, Southern branch. Belonging to a branch has its challenges, but we have immersed ourselves and liken our little branch to our Southern Family. They look out for us, rely on us, give us rides, visit us, and make us smile every week (for example, one time our Sunday program had instructions on the back in case we wanted to write the only missionary serving from the branch at "the Mission Base." That's Southern code for the MTC, I guess.)

So last night we had the privilege of attending our branch talent night - showcasing the talents and personalities of our branch family. In the back of the room were displays of talents - including paintings, drawings, cross stitches, trophies and a lego room built by a little 5 year old. Super cute.

This little girl did an Irish jig.

This kid blew us all away. Jackson is getting his first Karate lesson this Tuesday!

Talents performed included poetry, acting, singing, martial arts, gymnastics, and of course, a missionary performing a Primary song on the recorder. Pitiful, really. Jackson shared two of his talents - one of his compositions of a Hymn "God Speed the Right," and he also shared his talent of U.S. Presidential trivia. While his piano-playing was beautiful and moving, the trivia was mind-boggling. He challenged the audience to either call out the name of a President or any number between 1 and 44. He then stated the name or number of the President, his party affiliation, and at least one interesting fact about him. I called out number 27 and he explained that William Howard Taft, a Republican, was so fat (over 330 lbs) that at one point he got STUCK in the presidential bathtub and it took SIX white house aides to pry him out. True story.

This guys last name is Jester. Is this a talent?

Jackson also signed me up to share a talent, so I taught the audience the Spanish alphabet using a song that I teach to my high-schoolers. Mind-boggling? Probably not. But at the very least, entertaining.

It was a wonderful evening, and a great time to reflect on how fortunate we are to have such a great support system so far away from home. While all the acts were special in their own way, the highlight of the evening was little Jonathan Abbott and his Papa performing a Southern gospel song that brought down the house. He is 11 years old and has one of the most powerful voices I've ever heard. Enjoy.

Becoming HERM

I've always been compared to my father for various reasons, and to be completely honest, I've always considered that an honor. My dad's an amazing guy, and I hope to measure up to his hulking example one day. For years, family members have poked fun at me for being my dad's "mini-me". I would vehemently deny the label, but quietly, I delighted in the comparison. My father's moral fabric is of the highest quality, and his hairline has yet to show any signs of receding.

I admit, the allegations of our uncanny similarities are not unwarranted. Among other things, I inherited my father's appearance more than any other child, his zeal for tennis and handball, and his obsession with politics and history. Yes, one could say that the apple fell not far from the tree in our case. But beyond the obvious correlations, four events have occurred in the last 48 hours that have made me realize that, with age, and now more than ever, I'm evolving into a Herm-it.

1. The Shoes

I just got a new pair of gym shoes. Now, you might not think that's a big deal, but they happen to be New Balance gym shoes. For those of you who were previously unaware of the product, I'm convinced that they were made with nerdy old men in mind for their primary consumer (why do I wear them? Comfort, not style). My dad's been wearing them for as long as I can remember, and I've been wearing them for longer than I care to admit. So why am I just now drawing the comparison? Well, I was walking to the gym on Friday in my new New Balances, and I caught a reflection of me in a glass door. With my new shoes that seemed to scream "resting home!" with every step, shorts that were just a tad too short, and a Utah State Aggies t-shirt, I couldn't tell me from the old man himself.

To my credit, I haven't started wearing the New Balances around town or on vacation the way he does. Just look at any photograph taken of he and my mother on vacation - Bahamas, Europe, South America - and you'll see my dad wearing pleated khakis, a polo shirt, and a pair of white and navy blue New Balances. Think I'm exaggerating? The proof is in the pudding.

The elements are all in place: shirt, pants, shoes.

The polo-khaki-New Balance ensemble is perfect for any occasion!

Don't let the blue color fool you. Them's 're khakis.

With such a stylish wardrobe, why WOULDN'T you want to impress the attractive airport employee with a few sit-ups while you wait for your plane to begin boarding?

2. The Career

It seems only natural that my passion for history and politics would translate into a job in that arena. Teaching these subjects over the past year and a half has been a priceless experience, but yesterday morning, I received an e-mail from a law school saying that I had been accepted into it's program. They even offered me a partial scholarship to boot. Now, it was just my safety school, so it wasn't like I was banging pots or speaking in tongues with excitement or anything. But the mere fact that it happened reminded me that I am now ready and increasingly excited to follow in my father's footsteps, get my J.D., and then spend the rest of my life serving my country, family, and fellow man, just like my dad.

3. The Drink

With the New Year, I resolved to give up candy and soda. I started to notice that my metabolism, once a tenacious machine that could turn bacon fat into weight loss faster than I could spit, has started to resemble a tired old man feeding ducks at the park. My body just doesn't absorb fat and sugar like it used to, so I decided to eliminate the junk food (not bacon, of course. That would be heresy. Just the sugars).

Celeste and I were at one of our favorite burger joints (Cook Out, baby!) when I ordered my first pink lemonade instead of my usual Sprite or milkshake. After drinking it entirely, Celeste and I discussed how there was way more sugar in that lemonade than there would have been in a can of diet soda.

"Diet soda?" said I. "I've never bought a diet soda. The only reason I've ever drank diet soda is because my dad consumes it like a diabetic consumes insulin, and as kids we were obsessed with pop, regardless of its quality or flavor." For dad it was like insulin. For us it was like cocaine.

My dad in his youth.

"Well, it's probably a heck of a lot better for you than that lemonade you just drank," Celeste responded.

Three nights later (last night), she came home from the grocery store with a 12-pack of Diet Dr. Pepper. I drank one with dinner, well aware that I was as I did, my genes and DNA strands were mutating with a fierce aggression. Part of me tried to resist; tried to convince the firing synapses in my brain that it was no good - a bad match. But the contents of the can continued to drain and mingle with the fluids of my system until the can was completely empty. The worst part of this twisted chemistry experiment? I liked it. In fact, I'm having one right now.

4. The Team

My dad's been taking me to USU Aggie games since before I can remember. Many of my earliest childhood memories were at Romney Stadium or the Dee Glenn Smith Spectrum. I accompanied my father to countless games, including the 1993 Silver Bowl in Las Vegas, the 1996 Humanitarian Bowl in Boise, and several Big West Tournaments at UNLV. The son of the former USU Student Body and Big Blue Club President, I was born to bleed Aggie blue.

This has made living in North Carolina difficult at times. Not only because I don't get to see the games in person like I used to, but also because there's no way for me to listen to the games over the radio. The occasional Aggie game will be televised on ESPN, but woe is us, we can't afford cable with our meager salaries.

Therefore, over the past year and a half, I've gotten into the habit of sitting at my desk glued to my computer screen, watching the score from Aggie games be updated in 30-second intervals by ESPN.com. For the average person, this is quite possibly the most boring activity known to man. I literally stare at a computer screen that offers me no pictures, no video, and no sound - just numbers - to see if my team has more numbers than the other team.

Last night's game against New Mexico State was huge for a lot of reasons, the main one being that there's a darn good chance USU will be ranked in the top 25 this week with the victory. As midnight rolled around, I finally gave into sleep and went to bed. The Aggies had a comfortable lead and I had meetings early this morning. So I conceded to sleep, confident that we would win, keep our impressive winning streak alive, and crack the top 25 come Monday.

But in the recesses of my mind, as my body lie motionless and the rhythmic pace of my deep, slumbering breaths filled our dark room, a nightmare came upon me. I dreamt that New Mexico State had come back in the second half. I was in the stands watching, horrified at the prospect of losing to our hated conference rival. There were only a few seconds left in the game, and Utah State had a slim 2-point lead. New Mexico State inbounded the ball to their all-star Troy Gillenwater. Gillenwater launched a deep ball from well beyond the 3-point line. As the ball floated in mid-air, suspended in slow motion, the red light of the buzzer kicked on, and a loud horn signaled the end of the game. 10,000 terrified fans, including myself, watched the ball as it came closer and closer to the basket. Time and space seemed to disintegrate, and all that was left was that ball, moving on its journey to triumph or tragedy. Then, after what seemed like minutes, the ball fell through the basket with perfect trajectory, kicking up the net without bothering to touch the backboard or rim. Chaos ensued as the New Mexico State team rushed the court to hoist up their champion, and fans began to curse and spit and shake their fists at the heavens. I was ready to weep my way through sorrow when, quite suddenly, my face lifted off my pillow, and I found myself in our silent, dark bedroom once again.

I immediately stood up, walked over to the window, and grabbed my phone. The clock read 3:20 a.m., but my mind was as sharp as a butcher's meat cleaver. With pedantic accuracy and purpose, I finger-tapped my way to my ESPN.com and summoned the final score from last night's game. I exhaled heavily and my heart rate normalized as I saw that the Aggies of USU had, in fact, pulled out the victory, a solid 59-49 win in front of a national audience.


So what does this have to do with my dad? Well, not much at first glance. Sure, he was at the game, and was cheering the way he always did. But then this morning I was thinking about it, and I thought to myself: "Who, besides myself, has probably had nightmares about the Aggies losing something as trivial and eternally meaningless as a basketball game?"

Only one person came to mind: my dad.

The Top 10 of 2010

The year 2010 has come and gone with the speed of a juiced-up jackrabbit. Let's revisit some of our finest moments, shall we? This is the Top 10 of 2010, in no particular order:

1. European Vacation
While we did have a few moments that felt like they could have fit into a National Lampoon’s film (full sprints through the Barcelona airport, nearly getting run over on the left side of the road, jet lag that lasted a good 400 hours), for the most part, our first trip across the pond together was one for the ages. We spent time in Ireland, London, Paris, and Spain. We toured castles, climbed to the top of Notre Dame, swam in the Mediterranean Sea, and spent two nights in what felt like an abandoned Parisian brothel – you know, the basics.


2. Year One Done
There were times during the first year of teaching where I honestly couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, like while threatening a student with a baseball bat, or while sitting through a faculty meeting that was about as productive as microwaving a gerbil. Nevertheless, we made it through the wild and crazy year, and we count ourselves fortunate to have made it out alive. First year teaching highlights were...um…sparse. But I did take my kids on a field trip to D.C., and that was pretty dang cool.


3. Special Guest Speakers
Celeste and I both feel blessed to have fathers who know their stuff. My dad is an encyclopedia on the subjects of American history, government, and the law, and Brooks is a world-renowned geologist/paleontologist. And as luck would have it, both of our fathers are experts in the subjects that we teach. So in October, Herm-Daddy came to North Carolina and gave a discourse to my students on Native Americans, specifically the Navajo. Not only did he bring arrowheads, sand paintings, and dreamcatchers for the kids to hold and see, but he also brought them Utah State t-shirts, so that their love for USU could soar like eagle.

Brooks came in December, and gave Celeste’s students a crash course in digging up dinosaurs, and brought in skulls and fossils for them to hold and handle. Brooks explained how dynamite is used to blow away the rock above fossils, and asked one unsuspecting student what would happen if a giant rock fell on them because they weren’t practicing good safety techniques. The student responded with perfect scientific eloquence: “It ain’t no more you.”


4. Seein’ the East
We traveled a lot in 2010 (about 45,633 miles, to be precise), and much of that travel took place on the east coast, including Maine, New Hampshire, Boston, Charleston SC, Savannah GA, The Outer Banks NC, Asheville NC, Tampa FL, New York (twice), Williamsburg VA (thrice), and Washington, D.C. (thrice). They say you’re never too far from anything on the east coast, and we’ve done our best to cash in on that doctrine.

Charleston, South Carolina

Portland, Maine

5. The Holy Union of Bonnie and Matt
A sibling’s wedding ranks right up there with baby births, anniversaries, and the Super Bowl in terms of eternal significance. And Celeste’s sister Bonnie’s wedding was no exception. We flew out to Utah in October and met Matt for the first time, and quickly discovered that his unpredictable, off-the-cuff personality was a perfect fit for our Boopers. We fully endorsed the marriage, and any children they might produce. Love you guys!


6. ‘Tis the Season
Thanksgiving and Christmas were very special this year. Maybe it’s because we stayed out of Utah (du dun, chsshh). Maybe also because we spent Thanksgiving with my cousins in Florida who I haven’t seen together since I was probably 10 years old. I also saw a long-lost aunt, and an uncle who I hadn’t seen in years. What a perfectly wonderful reunion that was.

Christmas was equally exquisite. We spent it with Celeste’s Uncle Dan and Aunt Jeanne in New York, then spent a couple of days in Manhattan visiting old friends. All the holiday fun without the cross-country pilgrimage.


7. Law School Applications…again
You know you’ve had a pretty lame year if applying to law school makes the highlight reel.

8. Missionary Visits
In March, my little sister Josie came to North Carolina to pay us one last visit before she left on her mission to Oakland, California, where she is still currently serving. In December, Celeste’s brother Ben came out for a long weekend to pay us a last visit before his mission to Santiago, Chile (he leaves in about a week). Also, my brother Clay and his wife Jen came out to visit us in April, and he used to be a missionary, so I guess he fits in this category.


9. RALLYing the Troops
Politics is messy, confusing, and even deceiving business. Thank goodness we’ve got Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert to tell us what to think…and do! When they told us to come to their Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear on the National Mall, we didn’t think twice. Neither did my two sisters, Mandy and Kristen, who both flew to North Carolina to spend a few days before the big show. It was a good time, and I’m pretty sure I’m 20% more patriotic now.


10. An Outpouring of iLove
On Christmas morning, 2010, I received an iPhone 4 and an iPad. Holla!!! Now, I know some of you just rolled your eyes, but for you techy nerds and gadget wizards out there, you understand that such a boon for one man in one day is very Top 10 worthy, maybe even Top 5.

It’s been good, 2010. Be good, 2011.

A House Full of Britts

We toured the North Carolina State Capitol Building with Dad - and we discovered the State Geologist room on the third floor. He was so excited!

For those of you who don't know, my brother Ben is leaving on his mission to Santiago, Chile in January. I'm so proud of him! Because we aren't going home for Christmas this year, we decided that he should visit us before he leaves. After we made the travel arrangements, word came through that Dad had some business to take care of in Washington, DC around the same time and so he decided to visit us before heading up to DC. It was so great to have them both here and to get to show them some of the highlights of life here in NC.

This is an actual piece of "art" proudly displayed on Henderson's Welcome Avenue. We thought Ben and Dad should see it.

The first highlight (and the main one in our lives) is school. Dad not only came to school with me - but he taught all of my classes all about Dinosaurs. It was so amazing. He was a great guest speaker and had the kids laughing and askin questions. That's what happens when your Dad is a world-renouned paleontologist and you happen to teach Earth Science. Thanks for sharing your great wisdom with us, Dad!

On Saturday we spent the morning playing tennis and bacci ball. It was a little chilly, but a great time. Dad got to use Andre Agassi's raquet and played like a pro! Ben showed off his tennis skills recently acquired during his Senior year. We hadn't played together since he joined the team last spring, so it was really awesome. Check out some sweet action shots!

That night we all went to a University of North Carolina basketball game. Jackson got us some "upgraded" seats at half time and we enjoyed the game in comfort.

Saying goodbye to Ben at the end of the weekend was hard, but I'm so proud of him and I know that he'll be a great missionary. I love you Ben!! Thanks for coming out and spending such a wonderful weekend with us. Dad, I hope you'll come out again soon!

EminOlsen

Teaching is a battlefield of the mind. You've got to find ways to keep the students engaged and invested in their education. If you don't, the streets will provide a Cornucopia of illegal alternatives.

So as a teacher, I've always tried to keep my material fresh, even when it comes to topics seemingly booky like the Gettysburg Address. How does one get a gang member to give a flying crap about Lincoln's tribute to a blood-soaked battlefield?

Speak their language.