Squared Away

Two Wannabe Cowboys

2010-09-01T07:46:00.000-07:00

"Men work together," I told him from the heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."

Robert Frost
"The Tuft of Flowers"

The Littlest Viking and Indiana Jones

2010-08-29T15:19:00.000-07:00

Whenever any combination of our 8 grandsons comes over to play, they always head for the newly renovated boys' room and its cache of costumes, toys, and weapons. Miles (2) and Luke (5), pictured here, have spent the most time with us lately because their parents, Travis and Heidi, have been extremely busy with the triathlon season. Miles tends to choose the Viking costume, complete with a horned helmet and a double-bladed axe, while Luke favors the Indiana Jones look, with the addition of a sword or two. However, Miles has been known to play Indiana himself on occasion, most notably once when Luke was in time-out: Miles put on the famous hat and, rotating his hips from side-to-side, mocked his incarcerated older brother with "Jo-o-nes, Jo-o-nes!"

They all have Jack to thank for the plastic armory he's put at their disposal. It helps to have an uncle who was preoccupied with medievalism during his childhood (although I suspect it will be a long time before Jack's willing to share his Playmobile castle and figures). Even Travis had a couple swords during his childhood, named Naegling and Hrunting after the famous Beowulf blades, with which he would defend his sister's, his mother's, or his blankey's safety whenever they were threatened by me.

Thus, the brave comitatus tradition continues because, as the Beowulf poet observed long ago, "Wyrd oft neareth unfaegne eorle thone his ellen deah."

France Belgium Mission Crepes

2010-08-23T11:19:00.000-07:00

The Salem 12th Ward Relief Society invited me to do a crepe-making demonstration for a midweek activity a couple weeks ago, and, because I owe them big time for a long history of gracious acts of support for me and my family, I was very happy to comply. I'm not Emeril Lagasse or Wolfgang Puck or one of those Food Network celebrity chefs, but I do have a certain charm and facility in the kitchen, so the activity went well.

Because the sisters don't have my intuitive je ne sais quoi savoir faire with crepes, initially developed over the course of my two-year mission to France and Belgium, I had to come up with an actual recipe for them. They published it in their weekly newsletter, so I thought I'd publish it on my long dormant blog. There's nothing like a little French cooking to resurrect something.

France Belgium Mission Crepes
Elder Snyder

1 Cup Flour
2 Tablespoons Sugar
Dash of Salt
1 1/2 Cup Milk
2 Tablespoons Oil
1 Egg
Vanilla to Taste
[Almond Extract to Taste]

Mix dry ingredients together with hand mixer. Then add wet ingredients. Mix well to avoid lumps. Heat crepe pan over medium heat. Add a bit of oil and use a paper towel to distribute oil in pan. Add ½ cup crepe batter (depending on size of pan), moving pan with circular motion to distribute batter evenly. Use just enough batter to cover pan. [Add a bit more milk to batter if it doesn’t flow smoothly.] Hover. As crepe cooks, lift sides all around with thin spatula. When crepe is ready for flipping, use spatula to lift crepe enough to grasp gently with fingers. Lift crepe with fingers enough to slide spatula under crepe. Flip crepe. Crepe should have a lacey, light brown look. [If it’s too dark, turn down heat; if it’s too light, turn up heat.] Cook other side of crepe, but it won’t get that same lacey, light brown look and doesn’t need to cook as long. Place cooked crepe, good side down, on plate. Fill with whatever you wish. [Purists prefer butter and powdered sugar.] Roll and eat. Use oil-saturated paper towel to re-oil pan between crepes. France Belgium Mission crepe-eating record: 45 crepes by Elder Austin in March 1973. Bonne chance!

March Sadness

2010-03-15T11:12:00.000-07:00

For the first time in decades I'm facing a March without any madness whatsoever because my beloved Tarheels finished an unspeakably horrific season without their customary invitation to the big dance.

True, my second favorite team, BYU's Cougars, have a 7th seed and a first round game with Billy Donovan's Florida Gators, but, after losing in the Mountain West Tournament yet again to UNLV (and I don't care that they hold the tourney on UNLV's home court--the Cougars still should have prevailed because they're a much better team), BYU just doesn't seem poised to get past the first round for the first time in nine (yep, nine!) tries. But, then again, they might just surprise me and lots of other doubters; at least they earned the chance to try. Go Cougars!

What a difference a year makes. Last year I was contemplating the return from injury of Carolina's jet (no offense, Kenny Smith!) of a point guard, Ty Lawson, and a run toward the national championship with a truly outstanding basketball team. It turned out that the Heels had a relatively easy time dispatching the pretenders they faced on the way to the title game, which turned out to be a rout of Michigan State. It turned out to be the most dominant tournament the Heels ever played to win the national championship. And a perfect finish to the incomparable college career of Tyler Hansbrough.

This is supposed to be the point where I wax philosophical about the ebb and flow, the ups and downs, the wins and losses of life--and perhaps throw in a nice quotation from, say, Rudyard Kipling about "meet[ing] with Triumph and Disaster / And treat[ing] those two impostors just the same."

Instead I think I'll simply count the blessing of not having to spend the rest of the month in my usual gut-wrenched, overwrought state of madness. I'll be able to watch games without pacing the floor, driving my family crazy with my negative nervous energy, and startling the cows next door with my cheers every time the Heels make the great play. I'll also have time to consider whether watching the Heels should continue to be an ontological exercise for me, a matter of life and death. Maybe I'll emerge a calmer and brighter Tarheel fan in time for next year's tournament and truly believe, for the first time, that it really doesn't matter whether they win or lose.

Seriously doubt it.

Go Heels!

Arch Madness

2009-11-09T15:44:00.000-08:00

"I'm on intimate terms with this prairie."
True West by Sam Shepard

I'm not sure how many times I've been to Arches National Park over the years, but every time I return there I feel the presence of all the other visits and the people with whom I made them.

My most recent visit was a few weeks ago when I took my Western American Literature and Culture class on a field trip. We were reading Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey, once a part-time ranger at the park and now its patron saint. I thought that the students would understand the text much better if they had a chance to spend some time in Abbey country. In fact, whenever I teach a course on Western themes, I like to get my students out and about on field trips--riding horses, touring ranches, visiting museums, taking some hikes, and so forth--so they can get a corporeal feel for the West.

We had a great Saturday with perfect weather, but it was also in the middle of a Utah public school holiday, so the park was more crowded than I've ever seen it--hundreds and hundreds of people scattered all over the trails and slick rock. As I surveyed the scene while racing the BYU van toward the parking lot at Devil's Garden to get a parking spot ahead of the hoards behind me, I imagined Abbey (wherever he's buried in some secret wilderness spot known only to a select few of his ecological compatriots) spinning in his grave at the fulfillment of his dire predictions regarding the rise of "industrial tourism."

Despite the crowds, we had a fine but tiring one-day visit. We started with the Devil's Garden hike past Landscape Arch and on to Navajo Arch, Double O Arch, Partition Arch, and the rest. Then we made the pilgrimage to Delicate Arch and hung around the Windows area before heading back to Provo. Of course, my students were enthralled with the park. On that long drive north I thought about how cool it's been for me to be the one who introduced so many people to Arches National Park--family, students, ward members, and so on.

My first trip to the park was in connection with a Utah Humanities Book Group discussion I was doing with the Senior Citizens Center in Moab on Ivan Doig's Dancing at the Rascal Fair some time in the early nineties. Travis went with me. He earned the trip by reading the novel himself. We stayed at the Comfort Inn (the first of many stays there). As a boy, Travis loved the motel life with fast food, swimming pools, and color T.V. with cable. It was worth reading a big novel and hanging around a bunch of old people while his dad led a literary discussion for a chance at the easy life for a day or two, not to mention getting out of school for a couple days. Actually, I think Travis even contributed a comment or two to our discussion himself.

On our way home the next day, we decided to visit Arches. It was a cold winter day with flurries, but we had the park virtually to ourselves. We could spend only a few hours there, but we made good use of our time and saw most everything. We did the Delicate Arch hike in record time. I even walked the snow-encrusted path cut out of the side of the rock to get to the top and, for the first and only time, stood out under the arch itself. (As most of you know, I'm not too fond of heights.)

Standing there with my son taking in the majesty of a truly unique landscape spread all around us, I had only one thought, which I articulated to Travis the best I could: "Travis, if you so much as touch me, you'll have to walk home, so help me. I'm not kidding."

Of course, he immediately reached out with his index finger and touched me . . . and he got exactly the response he wanted from me, the details of which I'll keep private, but I was so grateful to get safely back across the bowl and down the icy path that I let Travis ride home with me and even bought him some lunch and the way.

That was the beginning of Arch Madness for me.

Four Luke Anecdotes

2009-06-16T09:57:00.000-07:00

1. A couple Sundays ago we were busily getting ready for a family dinner with the house full of people. I was on table setting duty, but I somehow had neglected to put a knife at Luke's place. As always, he called me on it because he's always insisted on equal treatment with the adults at the dinner table (with the exception of his special John Deere plate). I apologized for my oversight saying that it was my bad. Luke responded very earnestly, "You're not bad. You're Travis's daddy. Remember?"

2. This one comes from Sharleen Nicosia, president of our ward Relief Society. One weekday, we had a ward crisis situation sort of blow up, so Sharleen drove over to the house to see if I was home so I could lend some assistance. She rang the door bell and Luke answered the door. (He, Miles, and Heidi were there working on something while Delys and I were at school.) He said to her, "Hi, you must be looking for my Grandpa Phillip."

3. Last night the Scotts from our ward kindly dropped by some brownies for family home evening. All 10 of them came along and crowded into the house. Luke and company were there for dinner, so he quickly made himself acquainted, especially with Jacob and Linda, two of the youngest Scotts, who had come running up to me for a hug saying, "Bishop, Bishop!" Luke must have felt the need to restore some order, so he got between me and them and said,"I'm Luke. This (pointing to me) is my Grandpa Phillip. He's Travis's daddy." Then off they went to play together.

4. Last night Luke got home from watching his dad play softball around 11:00, so he was tired. They came in through the laundry room, so with the master bedroom door open, Luke could see me in bed reading. Without missing a beat, he kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket, grabbed two of his favorite books from my childhood that we read together, jumped into bed with me, pulled up the covers, and said, "First, let's read Jack's Adventure. Then we can read The Little Cowboy's Christmas." Later he told Heidi, who had come to check on him, that he was sleeping there that night. Sure enough, he fell asleep right there, although this morning he woke up at Tracey's place. I don't think he'll even remember his dad gathering him up to take him out to the car or the ride to Eagle Mountain. Luke is a deep, deep sleeper.

Snyder Spring Quadathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Move

2009-06-02T12:12:00.000-07:00

Because Travis and Heidi will be in no condition for the next couple days to put two articulate sentences together, let alone manage a blog entry, I'm taking it upon myself to report on what I call the "Snyder Spring Quadathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Move." I regret that I don't have Travis's ability to conjure up cool distinctive "branding" designs for this event (which we hope and pray will not become annual) and that I don't have Heidi's ability to photograph iconic moments and then post them in an aesthetically pleasing layout. Nevertheless, I'll press on using the meager language tools I have in my possession. (Note: that last bit is a nice example of litotes. Look it up.)

Friday Travis and I, along with assorted other volunteers, spent the day readying Salem's lovely Knoll Park for the next morning''s 8th annual Salem Spring Triathlon. (If it were a child, we would have baptized and confirmed it this year.) The highlights of these preparations: Travis's discovery of spray chalk, which comes in different colors and disappears after 10 days (could make "green" graffiti popular); the addition of two motor scooters, which we all enjoyed riding around (even Delys); and the addition of 200 candles (technical term for tall, slim orange traffic cones) marking the middle of the road along the bike course. Most of us got to bed by midnight, while Travis and Matt Ward did the all-night patrol and security watch, with back-up from Salem's finest. Even so, no one is ever ready for that 5 am wake-up.

Saturday, everything went as beautifully as it had the day before: plenty of volunteers, everything done on time, lots of enthusiasm, and lovely mild and sunny weather. Even Chief James complimented me on how well Travis had things arranged this year. Our only real problem was the theft of a box of about 120 extra race shirts by person or persons unknown who have ruined their personal karma for at least a decade or so. If I believed in reincarnation, I'd expect them to come back as Dick Cheney or Bernard Madoff or perhaps something worse, like an ebola virus. Delys took care of Luke and Miles, so Heidi could spend most of the day at the race. Delys says she had the easy job, but tending those boys for 8 or 9 hours is lots harder than yelling at spectator who try and get on the race course. Heidi's custom-made award medals were a big hit. She's getting pretty good at making bling.

Usually, the clean-up after the awards is the bane of triathlon existence because everyone is so hammered (a condition not even hammer gel can remedy), but this year things seemed to go especially well and very quickly, thanks to family and 12th Ward members. We had virtually everything packed in the trailer by around 5. Travis and I both commented that we felt the best we'd ever felt at 5 on triathlon Saturday. My favorite part of clean-up was gathering all the candles from the bike course. We had two teams in pick-up trucks. I was with Sam (1st counselor in the bishopric0 and Doug (YM president) in Doug's SUNROC truck. Sam and I were in the truck bed snatching candles left and right while Doug drove along. Marissa, Brooke, Steven, and Steve Parker were in the other truck. I think it took us just over an hour or so.

We would have been sitting pretty if it weren't for the fact that Travis and Heidi had signed closing papers during triathlon check-in. They had to be out of their house by Monday evening, so we had a long day Monday loading and cleaning. I never knew Marissa was such a great wall cleaner. I'll let Travis and Heidi provide the other moving (and I do mean "moving") details, but I think it'll be awhile before any of us has the distance necessary to report on the move in grim detail.

Except I'll share an image that I'll always remember as the crowning moment of our long, long weekend. When Delys and I were heading down the freeway this morning headed for BYU, I noticed a Titan coming up behind us in the left lane. It was Travis, of course, loaded down with the last of their possessions. He shot us a bemused look that said, "Yes, I'm on the road again doing what I do. Even I can't believe it." The last we saw of him he was heading for Eagle Mountain (where I hope Heidi, Luke, and Miles were still sleeping) talking on the phone with some business partner about some new deal or project.

Here's what I learned over the past few days shadowing Travis:

Entrepreneurs never clock out; they just go on an occasional break.
Entrepreneurs never sleep; they just recharge until the green light comes on.
Entrepreneurs never die; they just move on to a new market.

If I were an entrepreneur myself, these observations would constitute 3/7 of a best-selling non-fiction book, which would probably be enough to get a publishing contract with a cash advance. But I'm going to stop right here. I don't want to make a habit out of this.

January's Bishopric Message: Change

2009-01-07T11:12:00.000-08:00

As many of you may know, the bishopric divides the monthly conducting responsibilities for sacrament meeting throughout the year (along with doing sharing time in Primary and writing the bishopric message for the newsletter). Each of us also determines a general theme for the months we conduct to help our sacrament speakers focus on the gospel principles most needful for our ward. Of course, we do our very best to be inspired in our theme selections and speaker invitations.

In recent years, we’ve put together a list of our themes for the entire year to make it easier for Sister Nedra Christensen, our ward music chair, to select hymns that reflect those themes. We feel very blessed to have a tradition in our ward of spiritual sacrament meetings—thanks largely to speakers who always prepare well to give us the inspired messages the Lord would have us hear. I feel the Spirit in every sacrament meeting and also learn something I need to do personally to change my life for the better.

Usually, Sam and Jerry get their themes together way before I do, but this year I beat them both, much to their surprise. I did something a little different, too, choosing one-word themes with accompanying scriptures to help augment those themes. Sam and Jerry followed that pattern in their themes, and I think we ended up with some very timely and inspired themes for 2009.

When we were reviewing those themes during bishopric meeting one Sunday morning in early December, Mike Keetch, our incisive executive secretary, paused on the theme I had selected for January—“Change.” He surveyed everyone in the room and then looked directly at me with that half smile he always gets when he finds a little humor in something and said: “The election has been over for a month now. Can’t you give it a rest?”

As you can imagine, nothing I argued in denial convinced Mike, Sam, Jerry, and Lynn that I hadn’t chosen that theme consciously in celebration of Barack Obama’s January 20th inauguration. Every protest I made was greeted with more laughter, so I know any attempt to repeat those denials here would be futile. Instead, I think I’ll just go with it and write about “Change We Can Believe In.”

Of course, the real “change we can believe in” has very little to do with politics or even nationalism. It has everything to do with Jesus Christ and His atonement. Accordingly, the scripture theme for January comes from Alma’s sermon to the people of Zarahemla on the absolute necessity of seeking and maintaining a constant spiritual rebirth. Alma poses some key questions for us to ponder:

“And now behold, I ask of you, my brethren of the church, have ye spiritually been born of God? Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?

Do ye exercise faith in the redemption of him who created you? Do you look forward with an eye of faith, and view this mortal body raised in immortality, and this corruption raised in incorruption, to stand before God to be judged according to the deeds which have been done in the mortal body?” (Alma 5:14-15)

Alma’s questions here also imply a pretty good definition of what it means to be spiritually reborn:

1. We need to reflect the image of God in our countenances.
2. We need to experience a change of heart.
3. We need to exercise faith in the Savior’s redemption on our behalf.
4. We need to look forward with faith to the resurrection and final judgment.

All this relates directly to the Church’s primary mission—to invite everyone to come unto Christ—which, in turn, reflects the Savior’s own invitation, made at multiple times and in multiple places, to “Come, Follow Me.”

The invitation to follow Christ is fundamentally an invitation to change. This invitation extends to everyone, of course, but it has special application, as Alma teaches us, to members of the Church because we have committed ourselves by covenant to follow the Savior and to become like Him. We cannot do that without being willing to change—to rid ourselves of every attitude and behavior that does not belong in a Christ-centered life.

We have often heard the aphorism that “the only constant in this world is change.” My experience tells me that this is true. In Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night Malvolio (a comic and ironic figure) observes “[B]e not afraid of greatness: some are born to greatness, some achieve greatness, others have greatness thrust upon them.” Substituting “change” for “greatness” in Malvolio’s speech, I would write: “Be not afraid of change: we are born to change, we must achieve change, change will be thrust upon us.”

In our culture, the new year is a traditional time for making personal resolutions to change. As we do that, it’s important for us to remember that the new year comes just after Christmas, which should remind us that true change can come only through the Savior. So whatever resolutions we make for the coming year, let’s ground them all spiritually. We’ll have a much better chance of achieving them that way.

It’s our prayer that we’ll experience true “change we can believe in” throughout the coming year—as individuals, as families, and as a ward. Let’s renew our commitment to come unto Christ and to be perfected in Him. We know that we can live more Christ-like lives and that, through the atonement, we can each be given the power necessary to change—to transform our weaknesses into strengths and to enjoy greater inner peace and spirituality—whatever turmoil swirls about us in these troubled times.

Love, Bishop Snyder and the 12th Ward Bishopric

A Double Christmas Miracle by Marissa

2008-12-23T12:13:00.001-08:00

Yesterday morning I was awakened around 8:30 by the sound of scraping. I jumped from my bed to see what was the matter. As I glanced through the front door glass I could hardly believe what appeared before my wondering eyes--Marissa dressed in her snowboarding pants and shoveling the walk and driveway. I dashed for the camera to record this Christmas miracle, calling for Delys to be a second witness to this remarkable event. Upon seeing this miraculous sight for herself, Delys exclaimed profoundly, "It's a double Christmas miracle, actually, Marissa shoveling the snow AND being up before noon on a holiday!"

Ward Christmas Party Miracle

2008-12-23T11:36:00.001-08:00

It was the afternoon of the ward Christmas party, and the ward activities chair, Delys Snyder, still didn't have a Santa's helper lined up for the Primary children to visit. She had a great dinner, some music, a nativity, and a slide show of ward activities all ready to go--but no Santa. Delys had done everything she could, but nothing had worked out. It looked like the Salem 12th Ward was destined to party without the big man.

Then suddenly she had some inspiration. She knew that the bishop, being born on Christmas Eve, might have some special connections to Santa Claus, so she asked for his advice on how to get one of Santa's helpers to come to the party. The bishop, ever wise and inspired, counseled her to look toward Payson for help, and, sure enough, she got her Santa, a relative of the bishop. He arrived not a minute too soon and gathered his own posse of Santa's helpers to keep the Primary crowds at bay for the 90 minutes he was there spreading Christmas cheer.

It was a Christmas miracle.

I wanted to visit with Santa myself, but by the time I got finished with cleaning up the cultural hall, he was gone. As I stood there in the Relief Society room about five minutes too late, a half-dozen Primary children ran up to me all breathless, saying, "Bishop, Bishop . . . Santa Claus just left with your wife!" I started to panic a bit, but then they added, " We think she had to take him to the airport."

And that's how the ward Christmas party was saved.

Delys and Marissa Ride J.D.

2008-12-23T11:13:00.001-08:00

This fall Delys and Marissa took some time out from their Saturday chores to do some riding.

J.D. needs more of this sort of thing, and so do Delys and Marissa. I had a good trot around the corral myself, trying to teach J.D. to be more supple and responsive.

There's nothing like being horseback on a beautiful fall day.

Revisiting Ben's Last Ride

2008-12-23T10:35:00.000-08:00

Matt and Kerry Wickman and their daughters, Hadley and Elena, have enjoyed coming out to the Snyder place for barbeques and horse riding. The girls are especially fond of horses, especially Ben. One Friday afternoon a few falls ago, Matt brought Hadley and Elena over for a ride. It turned out to be Ben's last ride.

I noticed that he wasn't breathing well and took a long time coming in from the pasture when I called him. After the girls rode, I called my friend Jon Hunter, who's our vet, and he came over early the next morning. He examined Ben and told me Ben had pneumonia. Jon gave him an injection, and Ben seemed to perk up a bit that Saturday, but when I checked him before I left for bishopric meeting Sunday morning, I found him lying dead in his stall. He was 27 years old.

There's a Western tradition that everyone gets a horse of a lifetime--one that's better than all of the others. I was fortunate enough to have my very first horse be that horse of a lifetime. If there ever was a horse who filled the measure of his creation, that horse is Ben. It wasn't until I owned and rode other horses that I fully realized how truly remarkable Ben was--and how well he always took care of me. He always made me look to be a better horseman than I was. I still don't understand everything Ben taught me. As J. Frank Dobie once observed in The Mustangs ". . . a man who has had a good horse in his life . . . will remember him as a certitude, like a calm mother, a lovely lake, or a gracious tree, amid all the flickering vanishments."

It was sweet and fitting that Ben's last ride was with children. He gave many children their very first horse ride. I'll always remember Elena (who's pictured in the saddle) cradling Ben's drooping head in her arms as she told him goodbye that evening. They both seemed to sense what kind of parting it would be.

Cowboy Class Cowboy and Horse

2008-12-08T15:02:00.000-08:00

Here are two photos of me and J.D. leading a class discussion of horses and tack at the Snyder Spread in idyllic Salem this past September.

Notice the custom-made, award-winning (2nd place at Elko) Mike Keetch saddle I'm riding. My goal is to become worthy of that saddle.

I've taken advantage of the beautiful Indian summer we've had this fall to do some riding with J.D. He's not Ben by any stretch, but he's good with kids and is learning to rein better. He remains stubborn and lazy, but is not at all jumpy like Ricks.

What I Did During My Summer Vacation: Part 2

2008-12-04T19:22:00.000-08:00

This is a photo of our youth conference group at Camp Williams where we did rappelling and also divided into teams to go through the LRC (Leadership Reaction Course or something like that).

We stayed at Tracey's palatial estate just minutes away from Camp Williams and dined on gourmet food catered by Tracey herself. Everyone was impressed especially by Tracey's fine art collection. I am particularly fond of the tile work in the shower of the master bedroom. I spent some time there admiring it. I found that hot water coming from two different directions enhances the rich colors of the tile.

Cowboy Class

2008-12-04T12:08:00.000-08:00

This semester I taught a senior seminar course entitled "The Great American Cowboy." We went on some exciting field trips, including this one to Western Unlimited where we learned all about cowboy and cowgirl dress, as you can see in the photo. I'm the only one who owns everything I'm wearing, although some of my students walked out of the store with the hat they're wearing. Everyone looks good in a real cowboy/cowgirl hat.

Survey Says . . . Under 24 Hours

2008-12-04T09:48:00.000-08:00

It's all over but the celebration, folks. I checked my blog in under 24 hours. I also changed the template. Now if I can only figure out how to add books and music to my gadgets. Stay tuned.

Post Check.

2008-12-02T12:47:00.000-08:00

This is Travis posting as an experiment to see how long it takes Buckaroo Phillip to check his own blog. I was helping him load in some music and book selections and thought while here it would be nice to try this out.

Please select a choice from the survey buttons to the right.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation: Part I

2008-09-04T17:09:00.000-07:00

Me climbing up to the ruins at Frijole Canyon in New Mexico.

Delys at Taos Pueblo in New Mexico.

Me in front of some ruins in Frijole Canyon.

Marissa at Arches National Park.

Delys and me at Navajo Arch.

July Message from the Bishop

2008-07-09T14:21:00.000-07:00

Several months ago, Casey Peterson of the stake high council gave a great sacrament meeting talk in our ward on the significance of the Savior and His atonement in our lives. What I remember most about his talk is the personal experience he used to frame his remarks.

Casey grew up on a ranch and, like all cowboys and cowgirls, enjoyed round-up and branding time more than anything else. When he was younger he looked forward to the day when he wouldn’t be wrestling calves on the ground in all the dirt and the sweat but would be mounted on his horse roping and dragging the calves to the branding fire. In the pecking order of branding, the mounted ropers are the ones on the top.

He spoke of the first time he made it into the saddle for a branding when he was nine or ten years old. He made his first catch just fine, but soon realized that the calf he had in his loop outweighed him and would probably pull him out of the saddle if he didn’t do something. Then, he heard his father, who had seen his predicament, call out to him over the sound of the milling cattle from across the corral, “Dally up, Casey, dally up!”

Immediately, he took a couple wraps of his rope around the saddle horn, which secured the calf on the end of his rope, and, using the strength of his good horse underneath him, Casey dragged that calf over to the fire to be branded—something he couldn’t have done relying on his strength alone. Dallying up linked his relatively meager strength to the tremendous strength of his horse and made the two of them more than a match for any calf (or cow, for that matter) in the corral that day.

Casey compared the action of dallying up to coming unto Christ and using His atonement to increase our individual strength and capacity in dealing with our challenges and trials. He pointed out that the Savior, like his horse, has the power to help him do things that he couldn’t do on his own. Or, as President Weight is fond of quoting, “Two people can do anything if one of them is the Lord.”

Casey’s dally analogy here reminds me of the Savior’s own analogy of the yoke, a carved wooden piece which fits over two oxen, binding them together as a team to pull a cart or plow a field or do other kinds of work.

28. Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
29. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
30. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11)

When we are yoked (or dallied up) with the Savior, we unite our meager human strength with the infinite divine strength of God. We need to remember that we’re never working alone if we choose to take upon ourselves Christ’s yoke. Instead, we pull our burdens alongside the Savior.

So whenever we find we’ve lassoed a problem that threatens to pull us out of the saddle, we need to remember the simple command Casey’s father yelled to him when he was a boy: “Dally up!”

It’s our constant prayer that all of us in the 12th Ward will have our burdens lightened by choosing to come unto Christ and be yoked with Him in everything that we do.

Catch

2008-05-07T11:42:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday after dinner, Travis asked me if I wanted to have a "reverent catch" with him. ("Reverent" means that whatever we're playing we must wear flip flops and can't break a sweat.) He had even brought his glove (a back-up A2000 he used in little league because he couldn't find his first-string A2000) in anticipation of a quiet Sunday game of catch with his dad. I couldn't refuse. Plus, I knew exactly where my softball gear bag was located in the closet.

As the evening light mellowed out the slightly clouded sky, we threw and talked for about 45 minutes, although it's hard to say for sure just how long we were out there. I had had a busy Sunday and was feeling tense, almost as if I were still in a suit and tie, but I found that loosening up my arm started to get other things loosened up for me as well.

I'm not going to claim that we had anything Zen-like going on out there or that we were engaging in some self-satisfying Freudian for-da game or that Shoeless Joe Jackson was about to pop out of a cornfield we don't have, but I am going to affirm that throwing with Travis was truly, deeply relaxing. I could feel my body's muscle memories awaken as we fell into the easy rhythm of catch and throw, catch and throw.

My Rawlings softball glove cost me $50 in 1975, the summer Kate was born. Our rent was $165, so that glove what quite a serious investment for our young family. I don't know what it would cost now in 2008 dollars, but I do know that it can't be replaced at any price. It's a Joe Rudi model, named after the A's left fielder from the championship Reggie Jackson days in Oakland, which made me, a life-long Angels fan, feel somewhat like a turncoat for a while. It has a beautiful combination of light and dark leather, with a special "bellows" web perfect for catching softballs. I've always kept it well-repaired and oiled. It's so soft that it practically catches the ball all by itself.

My glove has served me well over many softball seasons. That first year, our ward, the Placentia 2nd Ward, won the stake championship, a big deal in those days of full ward uniforms and regional and area playoffs. I still have the trophy. I batted over .400 and hit my first and only home run the day after Kate was born because my line drive hit the gap in right center perfectly and I beat the throw to the plate. In the championship game I caught a deep fly ball right at the fence for the third out of a late inning with two men on base.

Monday evening Travis had his first double-header with the city league team he, in his own words, "begged" himself onto. Delys and I walked over to the ballpark from their house with Heidi and Luke to watch him play. For some reason, he still hadn't been able to find his best glove.

Can you guess whose glove he borrowed?

Carolina--Final Four and Everything After

2008-04-30T13:41:00.000-07:00

I wanted to get a good month between this blog and March Madness to ensure some perspective on the NCAA Tournament and the Final Four, especially Kansas's blow-out of the Heels on Saturday night. Here are a few random observations:

* Since I've been a rabid Carolina basketball fan (starting in 1981 with my acceptance into their Ph.D. program in English), I've had three seasons end happily: 1982, 1993, and 2005. That's just 3 out of 27 seasons. I've seen them upset a number of times, the most painful of which was the opening round loss to Weber State in 1999, which I watched in a Cedar City motel room during a cowboy poetry festival. I've seen them lose in the final four, the most painful of which was the loss to Utah in 1998, which I watched in a hospital room with Lu Ann who was recovering from surgery. (For the record, she was a Utah Ph.D. candidate at the time, so she may have given Utah some extra luck.) All in all, this was a great season: Final Four loss to the eventual national champions, ACC regular season champion, ACC tournament champion. It also makes the Worthy performance and Jordan jumper against Georgetown, the total no-stars team effort against the Fab Five of Michigan, and the all-star egocentric team win against Illinois all the sweeter in my memory.

* I have no idea why they came out so flat against Kansas. Thank goodness General Priesthood Meeting saved me from having to watch the first half. If they hadn't had all those turnovers during their second-half comeback run, they would have tied the score and given themselves a chance to win the game.

* I thought it was classy of Roy Williams to show up at the championship game in a Kansas shirt. He gave them 15 good years as their coach. To see Kansas get the championship he couldn't give them must have been bittersweet for Roy, but he took it well and stayed out of the spotlight. Any Kansas fan who still has negative feelings toward him will now go to hell for sure. (I'm not even going to get into all the Carolina-Kansas connections.)

* I knew Tyler Hansbrough would stay for his senior season. He will go down as one of the greatest college basketball players of all time.

* Neither Ty Lawson nor Wayne Ellington is ready for the NBA. I hope they come to their senses before June 16th. (I'm not even going to get into Trent Plaisted or Lee Cummard. They should spend the summer working out with Hansbrough instead of indulging in their delusions.)

April's Message from the Bishop

2008-04-11T12:10:00.000-07:00

Lately we’ve been blessed as a ward with some excellent talks from members of the stake high council, who are doing their best to refute Mormon folklore about how terribly boring “dry” council talks can be.

(Have you heard the joke about the high counselor and his wife who are kidnapped by terrorists and given a last request before they’re to be executed? The high counselor asks to give just one more talk before he dies. The poor terrorists, not being LDS and therefore not knowing what they’d be in for, agree to his request. Then, the wife takes a long, hard look at her husband, turns to the terrorists, and calmly says, “All I ask is that you shoot me before he starts his talk.”)

This week, I’ve been pondering one of these recent high council talks in particular, the one given by Alan Mcintier from the 3rd Ward. I’m sure many of you remember this talk, too.

Brother Mcintier used the analogy of a building foundation to discuss the significance of prophets, seers, and revelators to the foundation of Christ’s Church, the Savior himself being the chief cornerstone. As he said at the beginning of his talk. Brother Mcintier usually isn’t very big on analogies because they can sometimes be trite and inadequate, but, in this case, the analogy really works, especially for him, because he’s the stake’s physical facilities representative and also works full-time for the Church in a similar capacity. In short, Brother Mcintier knows Church buildings.

His central example for the necessity of laying a firm foundation involved the Mexico City Temple, the construction of which was complicated by the fact that Mexico City is built on a dry lake bed. As a result, many of the buildings in the city have settled unevenly, compromising their foundations and causing serious damage to their structures. Of course, because the Church architects and engineers attended primary and remembered singing “the wise man built his house upon a rock,” they knew that they had to find some innovative way to lay down a surer foundation for the Mexico City Temple, which, like all latter-day temples, is supposed to last through the millennium.

They came up with a brilliant and successful plan. First, they drove huge pilons deep into the lake bed. Then, they built a structure on top of these pilons onto which they mounted huge jacks, which would support the temple’s foundation and could be adjusted as needed to keep the temple balanced evenly—no matter what kind of shifting occurs within the dry lake bed.

Like the foundation of the Mexico City Temple, the Church’s foundation of prophets, seers, and revelators has the capacity to support the ever-growing Church membership as well as the ability to adjust to whatever shifting occurs throughout the world. We’ve witnessed this foundation working in exactly this way during the recent General Conference of the Church, the first after the death of President Gordon B. Hinckley.

We had the opportunity in a solemn assembly Saturday morning of sustaining a new prophet, Thomas S. Monson, along with a new First Presidency and new member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, D. Todd Christofferson, as well as a number of other new General Authorities and auxiliary leaders. We in the Salem Utah West Stake should feel a particular closeness to Elder Christofferson because it was he, almost four years ago, who reorganized the stake with the release of President Green and the calling of President Silcox and his counselors.

As the conference moved forward, it became clearer and clearer that the mantle of the prophet had settled firmly on President Monson and that the Church would move forward as it always has, from the calling and death of the Prophet Joseph even until today, under the direction of the Savior, whose Church this is.

As a bishopric, we are deeply grateful for our testimonies regarding the sure foundation of this Church. We are also deeply grateful to be able to serve with all the members of the Salem 12th Ward in this great latter-day work and pray always that each one of you will be blessed abundantly in your lives.

Love, Bishop Snyder and the 12th Ward Bishopric

Reflections on Birth Order

2008-03-26T07:50:00.000-07:00

Recently I've read a number of newspaper and magazine articles reporting studies on the importance of birth order. As I could have predicted, these studies show that first-born children are superior to their siblings in IQ, education, earning power, sense of responsibility, good looks, sense of humor,and so forth. Supposedly, first-born children gain their advantage because parents lavish so much more time and attention on them as opposed to the siblings who come later. Being a first-born myself, I felt both vindicated and humbled by my position.

Then I started thinking about the possible effects of birth order in my own family. Big mistake. Now everything's all complicated and confusing.

[Political Aside: Thus, we can see why the Bush Administration considers thinking to be counterproductive to their policies.]

For example, I'm the oldest in my family, with two younger sisters, Tracey and Mary Ann. Tracey, however, is not the middle child. Because Mary Ann was born when I was 17, Tracey spent 14 years as the youngest child, being spoiled by her parents and her older brother. Then, by the time Mary Ann was 2, I had been off to BYU and then off on a mission to France and Belgium, so Tracey had become the oldest child in the family by the time she was 15 or so. Mary Ann, of course, has always been the youngest child, but she shows no negative signs of having been spoiled by everyone. Also, I'm not ashamed to say that my sisters are both smarter than I am. My mom always gets after me when I say this, but it's true: I'm the dumb one in my family.

Kate, the oldest of my children, takes after me quite a bit, but she doesn't think she's superior(just bossier as the "game master" in the sibling hierarchy) to her younger brothers. Travis, the middle child, takes after his mother, another middle child, but he, again like her, has an emotional and empathetic IQ that's off the charts with a drive that won't quit. Jack, the youngest, came along 9 years after Travis, so he got the undivided attention of four people. For example, he crawled and walked late because he could always get someone to carry him around. Now he's the family expert on classical and early British literature.

In short, when it comes to my family, all these birth-order studies get turned on their heads and their privileging of the first born gets undercut.

And don't get me started on scriptural precedents and how many times the oldest son forfeited the birthright to a younger, more deserving brother. In fact, for the past ten years I've been rotating the birthright yearly with my sisters, thinking that it's better to have it every third year than to lose it altogether because of unrighteousness or incompetence.

Now, with Clarkwell on the horizon, I'm starting to worry that he won't get the same attention that Luke received. However, I'm encouraged by two things: 1) Luke's relationship with "Baby Hamilton," as he calls him, is warm and attentive and quiet and gentle, so I assume it'll be the same way with his little brother, even though there may be a little jealousy. 2) Heidi says that Clarkwell is even more active in utero than Luke was, so I'm thinking he'll hold his own once he's born.

Nevertheless, I'm planning on spoiling him not one whit less than I've spoiled Luke, birth order theory be darned. (Sorry, but I didn't want to write "damned" in case Hamilton reads this post).

Restitution Is the Second Step in Repentance

2008-03-25T13:54:00.000-07:00

It took practically the whole day, but I've gone back and commented on every blog from DaSpjutes, Treidi, Bees Knees, and you don't know jack. Now, I've got to keep on the blog and narrow.

Right now I'm listening to Rufus Wainwright's cover of "Across the Universe." It's not bad, but, again, he's no John Lennon. Jack is educating me on the "I Am Sam" soundtrack. It's not bad, actually. I think my favorite is Eddy Vedder's "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away."

Easter Blog: The Resurrection of "Squared Away"

2008-03-24T18:49:00.000-07:00

It seems I've been blogging like some people go to church: every Christmas and Easter.

However, my children have been hard at work reactivating me, and I've promised to repent of my backsliding starting now.

Yesterday we had a traditional Easter dinner: leg of lamb, Easter (aka Funeral, Relief Society) potatoes, green beans, homemade rolls, and strawberry shortcake (thanks to Heidi). We had Tracey, Jack, Kristin, Travis, Heidi, Luke, and Kathryn in addition to Delys, Marissa, and me. Because a number of us are watching our diets (Travis and Kristin leading the way), we didn't have lots of Easter candy (although Travis did smell himself a few truffles, giving new meaning to the phrase "aroma therapy").

Luke ate a good dinner--he seemed to like the lamb especially well--so his mother gave the two of us permission to have an Easter egg hunt. I put little wrapped chocolate eggs inside some plastic eggs and then hid them for Luke to find. On the second round, I put some green beans inside one egg instead of the chocolate just to see what he'd do. We all watched with curiosity as he opened the egg hiding the green beans. He took a look and then exclaimed, "Hmmm . . . green beans," and then just popped them in his mouth and proceeded to eat them. Tip for getting little kids to eat their food: put everything in Easter eggs.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-21T15:51:00.000-08:00

I can tell that the holidays are here because the number of people on campus has slowly decreased over the past few days. I'm looking out my office window at a nearly full moon rising over the snowy mountains east of campus with the light from the western sunset still reflecting on the mountains. The Y is barely visible under its blanket of snow.

I just posted my grades for Fall Semester, but I still have a half dozen letters of recommendation to write for students (out of the 18 I was asked to write) and my course materials to prepare for next semester. My shopping is pretty much done, and so is tithing settlement. But we don't even have a tree, and I haven't yet gone by to see a Pondtown Christmas.

Nevertheless, I'm about to shut down my scholarship and teaching for the rest of the year and head for home. We've been invited by the Payson Snyders to Heidi's special open house pie night. I love pie. Tomorrow I'll hang around home and probably deliver some goodies and gifts around the ward. We may get a tree; we may not. We're having the missionaries over for dinner. I'm excited to watch BYU beat UCLA in their bowl game.

I'm thinking about canceling bishopric and PEC Sunday morning, so everyone can sleep in a bit and hang around home a bit before sacrament meeting. The bishopric is speaking, and the choir is singing.

Monday is my birthday, so I imagine we'll enjoy the usual festivities and eventually get all snug in our beds to await Santa. We may sleep over at Travis, Heidi's, and Luke's house. I don't want to miss that little boy Christmas morning. We'll have a great day together with our family.

Then, Delys, Jack, and I will be off for California on the 26th for a week. I'm not sure what we'll do, but I'm excited to help welcome little Hamilton to the family and to visit with my sister Mary Ann and her family.

So, God bless us, everyone, and Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night.

On the Simple, Everyday Pleasures in Life

2007-12-04T12:00:00.001-08:00

Captain Augustus McCrae, my favorite character in Larry McMurtry's only truly great novel, Lonesome Dove, observes the following to Lorena, the "sporting woman" who wants to leave Texas to go to San Francisco: "Life in San Francisco is still just life. If you want one thing too much it's likely to be a disappointment. The healthy way is to learn to like the everyday things, like soft beds and buttermilk--and feisty gentlemen."

I think Gus is right about appreciating the simple, everyday pleasures in life. Just the other day, for example, I was thinking about how much I appreciate my favorite casual long-sleeved shirt. The shirt is actually something of a Godsend because Delys found it one day recently hidden behind the washing machine in the laundry room where some careless person had left it. Truthfully, until I saw it again I had forgotten all about it.

The shirt's all black except for the Asics logo on the left front. It's a size Large, which fits me perfectly, and is made of 90% Micromatique Polyester (widely known for its wicking power) and 10% Lycra (widely known for its stretching capability). All in all, it's a warm, versatile, comfortable shirt that I wear whenever possible. Just last Sunday, for example, it was such a pleasure to get home from church at 5:30 after 11 hours in a suit and tie and then to change into my favorite shirt just before Travis and Heidi and Luke arrived for Sunday dinner.

My advice to everyone is to find some everyday thing, like my black long-sleeved Asics shirt, to take some regular pleasure in. Like Gus says, it'll be a healthy thing to do.

Good Luck Reminder for December

2007-11-30T13:10:00.000-08:00

According to Lu Ann's North Carolina friend Ros, for good luck throughout the month, the first words out of one's mouth on the first day of the month should be: Rabbit, Rabbit. I don't really know if it works, but Lu Ann used to do it, so I try to do it every month in her memory.

And the Blogs Just Keep on Coming

2007-11-29T14:21:00.001-08:00

Salem 12th Ward Bishopric Message: December 2007

Before I begin this month’s bishopric message, I need to clarify something in the interest of full disclosure: although we are united in all things as a bishopric, we don’t write the bishopric message collectively. We do them individually depending on who’s conducting for that month. Neither do we approve or edit each other’s messages before they’re put in the ward newsletter by Karen Ripple.

(By the way, to her credit, Karen doesn’t bat an eye at even the most outrageous of the messages we’ve produced, although I’m sure she’s privately shaken her head at us a time or two. In fact, I’d pay money to see her reaction when she reads this one! Karen just gently reminds us whenever we’re late in getting these messages to her. For example, I got a very nice e-mail reminder from her as I was drafting this message Thursday morning. The world would be a much better place if everyone could find such courteous ways of motivating other people to get their acts together. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I get more reminders from Karen than Sam or Jerry do because they usually have their messages in on time. Again, in the interest of full disclosure, I also get gentle reminders from Heather Sorensen, who puts together the Sunday program, whenever I forget to let her know who will be speaking in sacrament meeting when I’m conducting. It’s usually in the form of a phone message from Friday night or Saturday morning. Whenever I play those messages I hope Delys and Jack and Marissa are out of earshot, so they won’t know I messed up yet again. Heather has no such problems finding out the hymns or special musical numbers for sacrament meeting because Nedra Christensen, our ward music chair, plans the music months in advance. Note to Heather: Joy and Sheldon Maughan will be speaking on December 9th; we don’t yet have the high council speaking assignment for December 16th, but there’s a 63% chance I might remember to get it to you as soon as I get it from the stake; the bishopric will be speaking on December 23rd as part of our special Christmas sacrament meeting; and, finally, you and Karen and Nedra will be speaking on December 30th. I’m just kidding about the 30th, Heather and Karen and Nedra, so don’t panic. I just wanted to see if you were still reading this message. I actually haven’t asked anyone yet for the 30th, so all the rest of you ward members need to get ready in case I call on you.)

We do e-mail the bishopric message to each other at the same time we send them to Karen to avoid getting blind-sided by a particularly—how shall I put it?—interesting message. (My current favorite under the “interesting” category is last month’s message by Jerry Pingel listing all his blessings. Just thinking about that message always perks me up and makes me smile. Sam’s messages usually aren’t as “interesting” as Jerry’s are, if you know what I mean, but they always focus insightfully on something I really need to ponder. For example, Sam’s October message on the importance and pervasiveness of teaching in the Church got me thinking about how I ought to be more conscious of all my teaching opportunities—especially the less obvious ones—and do more to promote teaching in all the callings we have in the ward.)

As a bishopric we tend to trust one another completely when it comes to these messages. We know that the Spirit will direct us toward just the right message at just the right time if we’ll exercise some faith and prayer as we approach that writing assignment. We’ll also be able to articulate that message in a way that reflects our individual personalities and insights. Most importantly, we have faith that the ward members who read these messages in the right spirit will be blessed to understand how to make good use of them in their individual lives, no matter how “interesting” those messages may be. As President Packer recently reminded us, in sharing some essential council he had received from President Harold B. Lee, there are times when we just have to take a step into the dark and have faith that the light will then follow after us. (Kyle Weight once told me that after reading one of my more lengthy and diversion-filled bishopric messages, his father looked up from the ward newsletter, took off his reading glasses, and pronounced, “Good message, but it sure takes him a long time to get to the point.” Note to President Weight: I’m fairly certain that the point may be coming along here pretty soon, so please keep reading.)

We have a tradition in the Young Women’s and Young Men’s programs to make a visit together to Temple Square during the Christmas season to see the lights and to view the film currently playing in the Legacy Theater of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. We made that annual visit this past Wednesday night. For those of you who haven’t had the opportunity of participating in one of these epic journeys, let me just note that it’s quite a task to get some 40 people, most of them youth, up to Temple Square on time; to keep them together in some semblance of order and reverence; and to return each of them safely home before their worried parents have called the police or the stake president. I’m thankful we always pray before we play, to invoke God’s blessings on whatever we’re doing and to avoid, as Janie Christensen used to say, ending up on the news or in the hospital.

We were to meet at 5:00 sharp, but, as usual, didn’t leave until 5:30 or so. Our plan, based on Wilson family practice, was to park in the underground parking lot at Little America and then to take TRAX (at no cost because we were downtown within UTA’s Free Fare Zone) to Temple Square. Although we tried to leave at more or less the same time, we ended up being strung out along I-15 with some of our drivers not knowing exactly where they were going. Nevertheless, we all managed to arrive at the appointed parking place, albeit at staggered times, and to gather at the TRAX stop by around 6:30. (However, all evening I was troubled by the sign I saw as I left the underground parking: “All Unauthorized Vehicles Will Be Towed at the Owner’s Expense.”) At the stop, a discussion soon developed regarding whether to wait for the train or to go ahead and walk the 5 1/2 blocks to the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. We decided to walk because we were impatient waiting and figured walking would be faster anyway, so soon we were all strung out again, this time along Main Street, with Kurt Christensen and his ever-present posse of deacons in the lead. (The height difference between Kurt and his boys is such that it sometimes looks as if the boys are dancing around a May Pole, but its advantages are that they rarely lose sight of their intrepid leader and that he always has an elevated perspective on them.)

(Note: I’m about to break my all-time record for bishopric message length, and I’m going to do it without any performance enhancers whatsoever other than Vitamin Water.)

(Note to President Weight: I’m pretty sure the point will finally show up on this page, so please keep reading. And no skipping to the end.)

Of course, when most of us were still chugging along at about 3rd South, the train we had been waiting for passed us by. We had obviously made a poor decision by not waiting, but miraculously all arrived at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building a good five minutes before 7:00, the time we thought the film was scheduled to begin. Kurt greeted us with the news that the film actually was to begin at 7:30, so we had a good twenty minutes to walk around Temple Square. The senior missionaries at the theater assured us that there would be plenty of room for everyone to see the film, Joseph Smith: The Prophet of the Restoration. After some trips to the rest rooms and some freshening up—Lydia, Julienne, and Adrienne decided to fix their hair and do some general primping in front of one of the ornate mirrors just off the lobby, which brought an anxious older sister missionary over to make sure they did no damage—we were soon scattered all over Temple Square taking in the beautiful sights and sounds.

Unfortunately, when the last of us lined up to enter the theater at around 7:20, we were told that there would not be enough room in the theater to accommodate all of us. We were half in and half out. For a few minutes, we didn’t know what to do. It looked like we had made another poor decision. Then some of the adult Young Women and Young Men leaders took the initiative and persuaded the ushers to let us look for some seats, explaining that we had come a long way and that our group had been separated. Fortunately, there were plenty of seats to spare, so we all got in the watch the film. (Don Wilson later noted that they needed a retired sheep rancher who has some experience counting large numbers to get an accurate count.)

As I was watching the film, which depicts dramatically the trials and sufferings of the early saints, I thought about how our group had ended up exactly where we wanted and needed to be, despite all the little problems we had getting there. I thought about how Joseph kept moving the Lord’s work forward, despite everything that hedged up its way, with his deep and abiding faith, tempered in the crucible of real experience, that this latter-day work would prevail against anything. And so it has.

So, after a chilly and lengthy wait at the TRAX stop, we boarded the train and rode together to the stop by Little America; found our vehicles still in their parking spots; and drove back to Salem safely, depositing everyone at their homes well before 11:00. To my knowledge, no parent called the police or President Silcox.

As I finally approach the main point of this bishopric message, I’m haunted by the final line of the film, a sort of rhetorical question postscript taken from Doctrine and Covenants 128:22 etched across the screen: “Shall we not go on in so great a cause?”

I pray that we in the Salem 12th ward shall continue to do exactly that.

Love, Bishop Snyder and the 12th Ward Bishopric

BYU Football and Carolina Basketball

2007-11-28T09:25:00.000-08:00

Saturday was a brilliant day for the college teams I love the most. First, BYU defeats Utah in another close football game with an heroic last minute effort. Then, later that night, the Carolina basketball team defeats a very strong BYU team by ten, even though the game, as they say, was much closer than the final score indicates.

I've been a huge BYU football fan since 1971 when Lu Ann and I were freshmen and attended all the games. I used to sleep out in the fieldhouse overnight to get great tickets. That team wasn't very good, but LaVell Edwards was about to revolutionize their passing game with Gary Sheide in the next few years. The BYU basketball was better, playing its first season in the Marriot Center (or as we called it initially, the Big Mac, which didn't go over well with the Marriots, who owned A&W, or the administration). Kresimir Cosic, who should have his number 11 retired by the way, was in his junior year. He and Danny Ainge are the best players who have ever played here.

I've been a huge fan of Carolina basketball since they soundly defeated the University of Virginia (with Ralph Sampson), who had just rejected my Ph.D. application, in the 1981 Final Four. (Virginia, by the way, had defeated Ainge's BYU team to advance to the Final Four.) My Carolina obsession deepened when they won the next year's NCAA tournament, for Dean Smith's first national championship, my first year at Carolina, with James Worthy, Sam Perkins, Matt Doherty, Jimmy Black, and some freshman named Michael Jordan.

Now, with Bronco Mendenhall and Roy Williams being worthy successors to Lavell and Dean, respectively, my loyalties continue to deepen. Check out how gracious and complimentary Bronco was to the Utes and Roy was to the Cougars after the games. Both are class acts.

In short, I root for BYU football and for Carolina basketball--no exceptions.

When someone asked me whether I was pulling for the Cougars or the Tarheels, I immediately responded, "I'd root against the Quorum of the Twelve if they were playing Carolina."

Tithing Settlement Reminder

2007-11-27T14:45:00.000-08:00

Just a reminder, kids, that we're heading into the tithing settlement season. Review Malachi 3 with your families and all the "windows of heaven" blessings that come from paying our tithes and offerings. I count all you foremost among those blessings that have come to me.

Just look at all the blogs that I've poured out on you lately. It could only get better.

The Talk That Just Won't Die

2007-11-27T12:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I had my office door open for office hours. The Dean, John Rosenberg, poked his head in and mentioned that one of the youth speakers (a lovely young lady according to him) in his ward Sunday spoke on the "parable of the chewing gum" by Brother Phillip A. Snyder. John said he thought, "I know that guy."

He then asked me how the khaki trousers were doing. I said that they were just fine, still hanging in my closet, and then told him about giving the talk on repentance in Chapel Hill, having it published in The New Era, and then a year later hearing a Carolina freshman read large excerpts from it from the same pulpit where it was given originally, all while the entire congregation giggled. She couldn't figure out what was happening until she sat back down, and the counselor sitting next to her, Gary Hatch, pointed toward me and whispered something in her ear. She just buried her head in her hands.

I suppose The New Era article is filed away at lds.org so it's readily accessible to anyone who logs on.

No Country Film Review

2007-11-26T12:40:00.000-08:00

At the outset I must confess that I'm a big fan of Coen brothers films, my top three favorites being Raising Arizona, O Brother, and Fargo. I'm also a big fan (and humble scholar) of Cormac McCarthy, my top three favorites being the Border Trilogy, Blood Meridian, and The Road. My children have accused me (not unjustly) of loving any film with the West and horses in it, so I must also note that No Country is, indeed, a Western and that it features a nice scene with two horses (one named Winston, the other unnamed). I like it that McCarthy and the Coens have the sheriff and one of his deputies riding out to a crime scene horseback.

In the film previews running on T.V. Roger Ebert is quoted as calling the film "perfect," which is high praise--especially coming from the big Chicago critic in the balcony. I wouldn't quite go that far, but it's a very fine film, an excellent adaptation of McCarthy's novel. The Coen brothers certainly did justice to the novel, something everyone in the Cormac McCarthy Society hoped and even expected they would do.

First of all, the casting is excellent, from the Tommy Lee Jones as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, the sometime narrator and ethical center of the novel and the film, to all the the minor characters. Josh Brolin is even great as Moss. The one exception is Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh, who is, let me hasten to add, terrific in the film. He just doesn't fit the character McCarthy created because Bardem is way too noticeable and memorable. In the novel Chigurh is much more non-discript, someone who could blend in easily with a crowd. There are other ways the film departs from the novel, but I'll just let those go because the Coens generally made good choices. The pacing is wonderful, as is the cinematography. The ending is brilliant, although several people around us didn't seem to like it very much. I resisted the temptation to give them a lecture.

Post-Thanksgiving Musings

2007-11-23T11:24:00.000-08:00

It's sunny and around 36 degrees here in idyllic Salem, the city of peace. The traditional leftovers are in the fridge, including four kinds of pie: pecan (unusually good except for Jack, who's allergic to nuts), apple (classic), lemon meringue (spelled correctly the first time and made beautifully by Jack the first time as well), and pumpkin (if one counts that as real pie). The mashed potatoes were made from our experimental potato patch. We'll plant some again next year. The cows and horses are grazing and dozing in the sunshine.

Jack left this morning at 5:30 or so for Black Friday at Dilliards. He was not looking forward to waiting on, as he put it, people to go shopping at the Mall before 10 or so. I dropped off Steven at the MTC at 9 where he'll work for 12 hours (he picked up some extra shifts for those who wanted the day off). Delys was at K-Mart at 6 for the opening to be sure she could purchase some . . . items that will remain Christmas secrets. Now she's taking Marissa to the Mall to purchase some long sleeve shirts. It took Marissa literally 90 minutes to get ready. Unbelievable. Later this afternoon Delys and I are going to see No Country for Old Men, the new Coen brothers film based on the Cormac McCarthy novel. I think it will be terrific. The novel reads almost like a screenplay.

[Note: I can see several revisions I should make to the above paragraph, but, in the spontaneous spirit of the blog, I'm going to refrain, which is not easy for me. I'm not very good at spontaneity or non-revised prose.]

[Note: After I wrote the above note, I went to get a homemade roll for a snack, but when I got back in the chair,I had somehow forgotten my non-revision resolution. I added a few things.]

Thanksgiving was my father's favorite holiday. I think he enjoyed the leisurely pace of a meal that takes hours to prepare and consume. We never had a crowd in Fullerton, so the hustle and bustle were minimal. I like the energy of lots of people gathered together and pitching in to help with the meal, the table, the dessert, and the clean-up. We only fed nine this year: our regular five plus Delys's parents and Kathryn and Geoff (Delys's second daughter and Kathryn's boyfriend). I kept thinking about everyone who wasn't there with us, imagining their Thanksgivings in Boston, Scottsdale, Fullerton, Bloomington.

No offense to the children and their spouses, but I really miss the grandsons, especially Luke, because I'm so used to having the little fellow around. I was sad that I didn't get to see him last Sunday before he left with his parents for a week in Scottsdale. I was busy doing Church stuff. The last image I had of him was his heading out to the truck ahead of his dad and mom late one night after having spent the evening watching Ratatouille (another first time correct spelling)with everyone. He was really very upset, having been forced to put the bow and nerf arrow he had been playing with back in the toy basket rather than take it home. As he half-ran out toward the truck, I could hear him sobbing, "my bow and arrow, my bow and arrow, my bow and arrow. . . ." He is in a Robin Hood phase right now, as you might have guessed. I'll bet Heidi is Maid Marion and Travis is . . . well, I'm not sure: Little John, Friar Tuck, the Sheriff of Nottingham, Prince John? I'll have to find out. I think I'll play Richard the Lion-Hearted.

Establishing Good Luck for Another New Month

2007-11-01T09:48:00.000-07:00

Rabbit, Rabbit.

Hackers

2007-10-23T13:07:00.000-07:00

I find it rather intimidating when the hackers writer funnier and better blogs than the bloggers do.

I also find it both comforting and disheartening to have a son who knows me so well.

Touche, Travis. (All you readers will have to supply the accent on the e in touche.)

I finally have something political for Marc. I spent an hour with Chief Justice John Roberts this morning (with about 10,000 or so other people) at BYU's forum address. He gave a good talk on the constitution and the separation of powers with some nice Utah, BYU, and Rex Lee references. (He obviously has an excellent clerk who put everything together for him.) I must confess that I did choke up a little when he said that the role of the judiciary, quoting Hamilton in the Federalist Papers, is to judge, not to exercise will, because in my opinion Chief Justice Roberts has strayed a bit from his reputation as being an advocate of judicial precedent.

While I was hunting around this site trying to figure out how to post something, I ran onto a disturbing window under "profile" that had accounting and Afghanistan listed for me. Then there was another window with a bunch of silhouettes of possible "friends." It gave me the creeps.

I hope none of you are into accounting in Afghanistan. I know the Bush administration isn't.

Treidi has hacked my blog.

2007-10-21T10:44:00.000-07:00

hello folks I hacked the professor's blog account because he hasn't been writing lately. So... I thought I would write for him.

*Top 10 Reasons I Don't Blog*

10. These new fangled technologies and hoozits and whatsits are confusing.

9. As an english phd I need time to draft my blog 10-12 times.

8. My ranch needs tending! those animals don't feed themselves!

7. Treidi's posts are so cool I feel intimidated.

6. The world series is better.

5. What's a blog?

4. The Lord keeps me too busy... BYU, bishoppin, and receiving my 38th eagle pawn

3. I'm too stressed about Jack's man purse to think.

2. I've had a horrible sinus infection.

1. I'd rather be on myspace (www.hotcowboyphillip.myspace.com) OMG CHECK IT OUT!

Repentant Blogger

2007-10-01T14:03:00.000-07:00

Travis really got after me for not being an active blogger this past week, so I had to promise him I would blog some today before he let me eat my Sunday dinner. Actually, he wanted me to blog that very second, but I explained that as a bishop I had been blogging in the spiritual blogoshere all day and was tired of it.

[By the way, I have no idea what HTML "tags" are, so I'm just going to stick to standard English.]

I'm worried that Travis will find out that Delys and I arranged to infinite texting on our Verizon account and that he'll start wanting me to text as well as blog and email.

I've been thinking about changing my blog to "Too Old to Rock and Roll, Too Young to Die" after the old Jethro Tull album of the same name, but decided against it. I like the mild irony of my blog being titled "Squared Away" because I know I'll never, ever be able to square it away.

Some random thoughts on a Monday: We need to have the Kings over for another Cafe Rio night sometime.
I also owe Bella a horse ride.

I need to throw in something politically brilliant for Marc, but all I can think of is Garry Trudeau's feather (his representational facsimile of George W. Bush) floating around the country blown here and there by the wind until one of the VP's cronies blows it out of the sky with a 12-gauge above some Texas field.

I'm thinking it's a shame the Angels play the Red Sox. Better the Angels knock off the Wankees (as my two Boston grandsons call them) and the Sox defeat the Tribe and Chief Wahoo before the two teams meet to decide the AL pennant. I'm hoping turncoat Travis roots for the AL. (At least the Dodgers finished the Giants this weekend, Trav.) We don't even know yet if it'll be the Padres or the Rockies. And for the record, I'd still rather be in the upper deck of Angel Stadium than in a box seat at Chavez Ravine, even with unlimited Dodger Dogs.

Im wondering whether the baby comes before the name or the name before the baby. To be more exact, will Hamilton Case Spjute become chief justice because of his name or will the name simply foreshadow his ultimate destiny? But I don't let it keep me up at night. When I can't sleep, I count blogs.

My First Blog

2007-09-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

All the great novel beginnings are running through my mind: call me Ishmael; it was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it is a truth to be universally acknowledged that a young man of good fortune must be in want of a wife; see Dick, see Jane. But, alas I can't come up with anything that good because I just awoke from my Sunday late afternoon nap and don't have my glasses. Plus, I'm over at Travis and Heidi's writing on a Apple computer and Luke just awoke from his Sunday late afternoon nap and is probably wondering where his grandpa is. I wonder if he'll understand it when I tell him I've been blogging.