rePUBLICANS & democRATS (and why I'm one of the latter)

INTRODUCTION:

If you support government programs to help the poor, you're a Socialist.

If you think government programs are wasteful and ought to be abolished, you're a racist.

If you don't agree with everything I say, you're an idiot.

If I sound like I'm being ridiculous, it's because I am.  I am doing a near-perfect impersonation of today's pedestrian political rhetoric.  I can't scroll through 3 inches of Facebook feed without someone lambasting another persons political beliefs, or accusing another political party of being the very definition of evil.  It makes me hate politics, knowing how divisive it is.  Politics should be a noble, respectable endeavor where men and women go to make better the world we live in.  Instead it's a boiling vat of toxic butt rush.

I'm sorry, but if someone supports welfare, they're not a Socialist.  And I hate to break it to you, but just because someone didn't vote for Obama, it doesn't make them a racist.  Though the extremists on either side of the argument won't admit it, there are good Republicans and good Democrats.  Of course, each lot has their fair share of bad apples, and they're the ones making all the noise.  I wish they'd shut up.

THE CONVENTION:

I recently attended the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte.  First, to meet with Mormon Democrats from across the country, and to meet Harry Reid and to hear him speak.  It was a short speech where he talked about his faith and quoted scripture.  In front of the national news media and dozens of reporters, we all sang "Have I Done Any Good?"

Then, thanks to my father's endless connections within the Democratic Party, I was able to obtain a guest pass into the Convention arena, which was no easy task.  I have to admit, I felt kind of cool as I flashed my credentials that led me past a wall of security guards surrounding the arena, leaving hundreds of people in my wake who were as disappointed as they were eager to enter.

I saw many political celebrities, including Sen. Reid, CNN's Anderson Cooper, the Rev. Jesse James, and Jason Jones and Samantha Bee of The Daily Show.  Then, inside the convention hall, I watched dozens of speeches by the Democratic Party's most powerful and influential members.  Y'all heard of Cory Booker?  Holla!

Hello, Anderson Cooper.

The Reverend.

Since Celeste couldn't come with me because of her work schedule, I spent much of the evening alone, and it gave me lots of time to think about the great political debate, and I got all sorts of philosophical on myself.  Earlier that evening, I had been interviewed by a reporter from the Salt Lake Tribune who asked if it was "weird" that I was supporting President Obama when Romney and I shared the same religion.

"I'm not voting for a prophet," I told him.  "I'm voting for a president and Romney doesn't represent what I think is best for America."

WHY I (ALMOST ALWAYS) VOTE DEMOCRAT:

So, why am I a Democrat?  Why do I think that Romney, a man with whom I share the Melchizedek Priesthood, doesn't represent what's best for America?

I was raised to cheer for the underdog, and you'll find a lot of those in the Democratic party.  Whether in sports or in life, my dad taught me that the little guy deserves a fighting chance.  The poor, the immigrant, the outcast, etc.  Perhaps that's why I'm so good at supporting Utah State athletics, or why my father has made a living out of taking on big insurance companies that don't want to pay out benefits to an otherwise bankrupt family, or why I still cry every time I watch the film Rudy.  Perhaps that's why I became a teacher, and why, when the opportunity came knocking, I bypassed law school.

This is what led me to the Democratic Party.  It'd be hard for anyone to argue that the Republicans do a better job of taking care of the poor, the immigrants, or the outcasts.  Their policies, both fiscal and domestic, are more suited for the wealthy and the white, the mainstream and the mundane.

It would be equally hard to argue that the Republican Party is as inclusive as the Democratic Party.  While the Democratic National Convention was a melting pot of cultures, ideas, and skin colors, the Republican Convention looked like a gathering of Country Club donors and desperate housewives.  Where were the meek?  Where were the poor?  Where were the persecuted?  They were all in Charlotte, being included.

A perfect example of a demented outcast in need of love and empathy (I'm referring to the one on the right).

Senator Reid made a point of saying that he is a Democrat because of his Mormon faith, not in spite of it.  I couldn't agree more.  When King Benjamin delivers his address to the Nephites, when Christ delivers his Sermon on the Mount, and when our modern-day prophets speak out about serving one another and lifting up the downtrodden, they all point to an undeniable and eternal truth: we are all God's children.  We ought to love everyone, and judge no one.  We ought to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in the strangers.  We ought to clothe the naked, visit the sick and the imprisoned.

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." -Matthew 25:40

WRAPPING IT UP:

Not all Republicans are callous racists, and not all Democrats are benevolent saints.  And, as Pres. Obama wisely put it in his acceptance speech a few nights ago, "No party has a monopoly on wisdom."  That's why I will never be a straight-ticket voter.  I'm proud to say that I have voted for several Republicans, my favorite of whom was Governor Jon Huntsman in 2008.

Huntsman intentionally avoided the Republican National Convention this year.  He basically said that he would return to "full fellowship" in the Republican Party "...when they decide to become a little more inclusive and broaden the footprint a little bit, and with a larger, more hopeful optimistic message about the future of the country that's based on real solutions."

I'm with you, Jonny.  When the Republican Party does this, I could get comfortable there.  Until then, I'll remain a moderate Mormon liberal who is caring enough to vote Democratic most of the time, and pragmatic enough to vote Republican some of the time.

"I am an extreme moderate, I believe anybody not in favor of moderation and compromise ought to be castrated." -Benjamin Franklin

Still a beautiful sight, even from the nosebleeds.

On the Eve of Battle

Chins up, men.  This is war.  Actually, it's elementary school, but I understand your confusion.

Tomorrow is my first official day as an assistant principal at Zeb Vance Elementary School.  The staff and I have been back for a week, but tomorrow we'll be joined by the kids, and that means the game will change.  Even now, those little kinders are setting out their clothes and carefully reviewing the newly-purchased items carefully placed inside their backpacks.  They're asking older siblings for advice, and mothers are telling them to have stiff upper lips and to be brave.

I haven't been to elementary school for sixteen years.  I'm not quite sure what to expect, although I've been told to carry a portable bottle of hand sanitizer.  It seems snot and vomit are in rich supply within the tabernacles of these little munchkins, and they're not at all hesitant about sharing.

But it's not the vomit that's got me worried.  It's not even their perpetually sticky fingers or their naturally loud dispositions, or curious wee'uns engaging in a game of kissing tag.  In all honesty, the thing I'm most worried about is...well, nothing.

It seems strange, even for me.  For the last three years, this night has been marked by a fierce, gripping anxiety that wouldn't be shaken, like my stomach was on spin cycle.  Every teacher knows exactly what I'm talking about.  On the Eve of the Battle, even a soldier with experience wonders if he'll make it out the other end alright.  Of course, it was worst my first year.  August 25th, 2009.  I still remember every whit and detail of that day.  My heart damn near leapt out of my chest it was beating so violently when I first stood before my students.  Sweat beaded off my forehead like a bottle of coke pulled from a vending machine.  When I saw my boys for the first time, I was stunned at their staggering height, their deep, throaty voices, and that their mustaches and goatees were far thicker than my own.  My girls were women for all intensive purposes.  Two of them were mothers.  One was expecting.  I never felt so white in all my life.

But tonight is different.  Tonight I feel at peace.  I'd rather say that I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and the new adventures it will surely bring.  My constituency has changed, and so has my charge.  Starting tomorrow, I'm not so much called to teach as I am to lead.  And these children house a more fertile, malleable class of brain than I am used to, and I hope that will allow me to do a greater good than I have with adolescents over the past three years.

So cheers.  Cheers to the Eve of Battle and to my fellow soldiers.  Cheers to the quest.  Cheers to education.  And above all, cheers to me not getting barfed on tomorrow, or any other day, for that matter.

Arizona in July!

My hosts for the week

As the school year came to a close in June, I was a little bummed that I had no plans to see my family over the summer. Last year Jackson and I spent almost a month straight with family, which was great, but it was not in the plan this year. As he was working full time for the United Way, I decided to work summer school and then just jump back into the swing of things at the end of July.

At then end of June I was talking to my sister Sarah and she invited me out to Arizona for a week. She was just throwing it out wistfully, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to make it a reality. Little by little things began to fall into place. Sarah was super generous in helping me get out West and we found an AMAZING deal that we couldn't pass up. The day after returning from Jackson and I's New England adventure, I was on a plane to Phoenix.

I know, I know... Phoenix in July??? Crazy! The forcast was displaying high's close to 115 degrees with no clouds in sight... but it was more refreshing than I ever could've imagined!

Sarah picked me up from the airport with her newest addition in tow and wisked me up the Arizona mountains. As we drove she explained that her friend had invited her up to a family cabin for a few nights and I would stay up in the cabin with them for a night. I envisioned a cozy cabin overflowing with children and parents trying to stay sane... oh wait... this was the "cabin" she spoke of.

The Cabin

Really, this is a family cabin? It has 13 bedrooms with a personal bathroom and sitting room in each room. It includes a 6 car garage, sport court, game room, theatre, pond and dining hall. We spent the night with three other families, and it never felt crowded. Not even at meal time! Another great feature about the cabin is that it was up in the mountains, and about 15 degrees cooler than in the valley. It was amazing. 

Three stories high!

The theatre. Yes, this is inside the house.

What, you don't have a cougar in your sitting room?

The dining area. The kitchen behind it has three ovens,

two sinks, two dishwashers and two refridgerators!

After enjoying the cabin we came back down to her adorable house in Gilbert. I loved spending time with Lynlee and getting to know my new nephew, Cooper!

Lynlee insisted we go to her favorite place in the whole

world, Bahama Bucks to enjoy a shaved ice.

On the way home she had a little fat face!

Cooper Lee Nelson, 6 weeks

Going to the park with Lynlee

My first night at Sarah's I was woken up at 4:00 in the morning by a surprise! My family had driven down from Utah to see me!! As I woke and hugged them I was overwhelmed by emotion and happy tears streamed down my face as I realized I would spend the next few days with my parents and sisters!! Even thinking back on it now it is hard to hold back tears - my family is so amazing! Thanks for coming down to see me!

They had planned on surprising me pretty much from the time my visit to Sarah was finalized. I had just a few hints here and there that I would see at least some of them, but I never imagined that all of them would be able to spend so much time with me!

Family Attack! Crystal and Ariel upon arrival

The remaining days were spend relaxing at the pool and spending quality time together as a family. We laughed, we cried, Dad showed us crazy videos of cars, Lynlee showed off like crazy, Ariel was hilarious, Crystal was so supportive, and Mom was so caring. Us sisters went shopping and did each other's nails. Mom, Ariel and I went to Sarah's kickboxing class, in awe that she gave birth six weeks ago and was teaching like nothing happened. It was such a memorable vacation and I am so blessed to have such a wonderful family!!

Mom and I at the pool

Lynlee and Ariel chillin in the pool like the rockstars they are...

This might actually be my favorite photo of the week.

Sarah is so adorable... and awkardly squeezing her son's chest...

Lynlee graduated from her first two wheeler to a taller one with Grandpa's assistance

She rode her big bike over three miles with Grandpa like a champ.

How many three year olds do you know who are on their second two wheeler???

Crystal takes Lynlee for a ride

Pool time!

We spent a lot of time in the pool...

Lynlee learned to Cannonball!

Typical Dad on vacation. He borrowed a saw from a neighbor (yes, a stranger)

and cut down two dead trees.

Dad relaxing like a man after disposing of the trees.

Grandpa with his two grandkids!

We experienced a crazy storm - enough to turn the neighborhood park into a lake!

Ariel entered the living room as above

Lynlee: "Why are you wearing that scary costume?"

Lynlee, wearing the "costume"

It's a triple hold!!!

Road Trip!

What do you get when you mix together 9 states, 4 city-stops, 3 cases of root beer, 2 star-crossed lovers, 150 Twizzlers, and a Honda Fit?

Road trip, baby!

Celeste and I had the week of the 4th off and decided to take to the open road and visit some of our favorite people and favorite places.

Day 1
After a long day of classes, we shot up I-95 and arrived in Philadelphia just after nightfall.  We stayed with Marcus Anderson and his expectant wife, Candice.  Marcus and I have been friends for as long as we can remember. As he put it, "Your mom used to make me waffles, man."  So true.  So true.  Even though Marcus is a BYU alum and a Romney supporter, I just can't help but love the guy.  We talked, laughed, and reminisced all night.

Just where our country was born...no big whoop.

Day 2
We hit the pavement of Philly and didn't come home until we were ready to collapse.  We did it all.  The Rocky statue/steps (yes, I ran up them like a charging idiot - of course I did), Logan Square, Philadelphia Free Library (we ain't no uncultured swine, y'all), Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and of course, Chinatown.  I bought a wooden katana and a cassette tape of Chu Chin-Yen, a portly Chinese pop-star who looked as though he had been dressed by Tim Burton.  We also treated ourselves to the original Philly Cheesesteak, and let me just say this, folks: Subway's got it all wrong.  That sandwich was otherworldly.  It belongs in the cornucopia of ambrosia along with watermelon, steak, and Big League Chew.

The Rocky Steps

Day 3-4
What would a trip to New England be without a stop in Highland, New York?  We had the pleasure of reconnecting with The Coopers, Celeste's aunt, uncle, and cousins.  Good folk, they are.  We spent a lot of time playing with cameras and photography.  It was while we were in Highland that I took these precious babies:

Mid-Hudson River Bridge, Highland, NY

High Falls, NY

Anopheles quadrimaculatus (a.k.a. mosquito)

Day 5-7
We first visited Boston back in 2010, but back then Boston was Gabe-less and Ellen-less, and therefore only scratched the surface of its true potential.  With Gabe and Ellen Bush in the picture, that city was hotter than a 2-dollar pistol.

We did some traditional stuff like Boston Common and the Freedom Trail, but we also kayaked on the Charles River, saw the new Wes Anderson Film, "Moonrise Kingdom," got a table at the top of the Prudential Building, watched the Boston Pops (apparently that's a big deal, though we didn't know it till we got there), and went to an antique collectible store where I found a sweet RFK campaign button from the '68 presidential election (during which he was assassinated) and sang our favorite songs from high school, classics "Girls Just Wanna' Have Fun", "Scat Man", "I'm Blue", and "Mambo #5".

Atop the Prudential Building, Boston, MA

View of Cambridge from the south bank of the Charles River.

Kayaking the whitewater rapids of the Charles

Yep.

Gabe (Orphus), Ellen (wife of Orphus), and Celeste (wife of Delfidius)

After a crazy night of Mariokart and scary movies, I woke up on my birthday and entered the kitchen where I found a card, platter of donuts, and a root beer from my friends, the Bushes.  The card was addressed to "Scat-Man". I dang near shed a tear it was so beautiful.

Day 8-10
Leaving Boston was only made easy by the fact that we were on our way to see my wonderful sister and her beautiful daughters.  Oh, and she has a husband.  His name is Adam, and he has a mullet.

Now, I'm well acquainted with many beautiful places in this world.  I've seen Paris and been to the Grand Canyon.  I've watched the sun rise and fall over the ocean's distant horizon, and have stood on a mountain a mile-high and seen the world stretch out before me like it would never end.  That said, I would now like to officially add Connecticut to the upper echelon of beautiful places on this earth.

The towns are quaint, the homes swell with colonial allure and antiquity, and the roads are bordered by small stone walls like the kind you'd find in the Irish countryside surrounding potato farms and thatch-roofed cottages.  My sister lives in Mark Twain's carriage house, if you can believe it.  That ole grizzly bear moved to Connecticut and spent the last three years of his life there.  His carriage house is a half mile from the house that he died in, and that's where my sister lives.

On my birthday, we went to one of these magical little towns, so brimming with charm that it spilled into the streets like water from a broken dam.  The place is called Ridgefield.  The beauty was everywhere.  In the old stone church, the local bookstore with the bell above the door that marked your entrance, the ice cream shoppe...it was a big slice of delectable Americana.  Then we found a park and set up a picnic.  A bluegrass band of immeasurable talent danced their fingers upon banjo and mandolin and filled the park air with its frenzied music, and we ate pizza and threw the frisbee around, the way I used to with my dad at Olsen family reunions.

Holly's girls are really something else.  They were so excited for our arrival, that they decorated their driveway and front porch with chalk, then promptly presented us with a menu for lunch and a list of games we could play.  It wasn't long before I had a quesadilla in my belly and was sitting around a small table playing pick-up sticks for the first time since I was in kindergarten.  We played board games, roasted marshmallows, and they also put on a fashion show for us that was, as you can see below, UH-mazing.

Me, Rooster, and Viv.  NomaSo was too busy eating marshmallows to sit for a photo.

Look close at Noma's face.  Preciosa.

L-O-freaking-L

We drove back in a fury, stopping only to eat in Washington D.C. with my brother-in-law Marshall, who's currently interning there before his last year of law school.  He informed us he's thinking of hitchhiking to the ocean before he flies back to Utah.  Carpe diem, Marshall.  Carpe diem.

The End.