Blogging but Uneasy

Occasionally, I look at the statistics tracking viewers of both my blogs.  I'm gratified to learn that during a week there may be three or four other people, besides my family, who slog through my thought provoking (or maybe just provoking) meanderings.  I am uneasy, though, when I see some of the web addresses that have entered my blog.

Why any site specializing in porn would enter my website is beyond me.  The idea makes me succumb to an attack of acute nausea. Often, the site names that have entered my blog clue me in to their low life purposes. I'm speculating that some of the scumbags associated with the Internet sewer must write programs that randomly enter blogs.      

Once, however, I clicked an innocuous sounding link that was a purveyor of garbage.  As the computer loaded the pictures, I noticed that the women's faces had idiotic expressions. The loading progressed and I noticed clothes did not appear on shoulders or upper chests, I crashed my computer before the upper body nudity became apparent and decided never to clink on any link that entered my blog, no matter what the name.

So the moral of the story is, never to click on link that has entered my blog, no matter how innocent sounding the name may be.  I just wish there was a way to block seedy sites from entering my blog at all.  Probably they are trying to drum up business, but they won't get mine. Self respect is hard enough to continually maintain.  Why would I sell it to predators who only goal is to take my money and wreck my life?

My Television Education

I’m getting smarter all the time thanks to television.  Only this week I learned that aliens from space are the most likely source of Leonardo da Vinci’s genius.  For two years da Vinci didn’t write much in his journal, but he did mention a cave he visited.  So the only rational conclusion is that da Vinci held conclaves in the cave with aliens from space during those two years. The aliens showed him the future and introduced him to revolutionary ideas.  Either the aliens taught da Vinci everything he knew, or they downloaded the information into his brain.  The History Channel experts are not clear on this point.   

According to the History Channel’s sources, who propound their hypotheses with certainty as well as a straight face, the aliens imparted this information for the purpose of speeding up mankind’s technological progression.  I learn something new every day.

While da Vinci’s dealings with space aliens are interesting, they play second fiddle to present-day adventures with Sasquatch.  One day as I tried to find something worth watching on my 100 channels of satellite TV, I stumbled on a program with modern-day Sasquatch hunters – in Kansas.  Nothing is more likely than Sasquatch hiding out in Kansas. This theory explains completely why hunters can never find the elusive creature in Washington, Oregon, or British Columbia.  Sasquatch has been concealing himself in Kansas all along.

In a discussion of educational television, I would not want to overlook an enlightening program that deals with a geologist on his search for the Holy Grail in the United States.  My elementary school teachers completely misled me.  They taught me in 6^th grade that the Holy Grail was a myth created during the middle ages.  To hear the geologist tell it, there is nothing more certain than the existence of a Holy Grail which the Knights Templar decided to hide in Minnesota or was it Maine?  After the Last Supper, I would have thought that the individuals providing the upper room would have washed all the dishes, making it hard to figure out who used which grail.  It just goes to show how logical thinking has no place in science or television.

After my television learning experiences, I wait with bated breath to view the next bit of television science or history.  What next will I learn?  The Eiffel Tower was in reality designed to be intergalactic starship?  Neanderthals govern a province in Upper Canada?  Atlantis is alive and well and located under an ice sheet at the North Pole?  Anything is possible in a television education.

Memorial Day

Today Wilbur and I trotted down to the nursery to get plants to adorn his rock collection.  Next, we went to the Memorial Day Parade and ceremony in East Helena.  Then I went to the Veteran's Cemetery to put lilacs on my parents' graves. I kicked myself for not bringing a camera.  The Veteran's cemetery was an awesome sight with American flags on every grave.

 After I visited the Veteran's Cemetery, I went to Forestvale Cemetery to decorate my grandparent's graves. Joe Spoja's grave is behind my grandparent's grave.  Joe is my brother-in-law who died when his Coast Guard helicopter was knocked out of the sky by a huge wave as the crew tried to rescue a man from a fishing boat in the middle of a terrific storm.  Someone had taken the time to walk the entire cemetery and put flags on all the veteran's graves.  That must have been time consuming, so bless whoever took the time to do it.

When I was a child, my Dad, younger sister and I would pick lilacs and bring them to our family member's graves at Forestvale.  I really missed my Dad today.

Wilbur's Rock Collection

While I buzzed down to Billings to have fun with Hermione, Wilbur played with his rock collection.  His rock collection is different than mine.  I keep my rock collection in a shoe box in my closet.  I inherited some of my collection from my Dad, and I bought one or two of my rocks from a store.

Wilbur started his collection last year, using a 9000 lb Telehandler Grade-All forklift. Wilbur's friend, Dave, allowed Wilbur to collect some rocks off his land. Until yesterday,Wilbur kept his collection in a pile next to his shop.

 When collecting rocks, the type of rock is immaterial to Wilbur.  All of his rocks are granite, which is fine with him.  Size and shape are the focus of Wilbur's rock collection.  Yesterday, Wilbur arranged his collection for display.  He is going to let me choose shrubs to accent his display.  When we are done with Wilbur's display, the area around his shop will look far superior to the yard surrounding our home.  It doesn't make sense to me that the shop yard will be so much superior to the yard surrounding our house. Still, I support anything that improves the look of our property.

Wilbur's rock collection, side view

Willbur's rock collection - front view

The Collector

The apple tree in bloom - landscaping I can handle.

To the Rescue

The home where I grew up on Third Street was only a stone's throw away from a rock quarry.  I remember my Mom telling the tale that when some blasting took place at the quarry, a large rock went through the roof of a house in the neighborhood and narrowly missed a baby in a playpen.  I don't know if this story is truth or rumor.

Mom's experience with the quarry was quite different than blasting.  Mom had very acute senses.  Her sense of hearing and smell seemed way above average to me. She told me that one day she was hanging clothes on the line.  As she hung out the clothes she heard a cry of "Help! help!"  She stopped what she was doing and followed the sound to the rock quarry.  She found a boy who had fallen from the rim of the quarry and broken his leg.  She splinted the leg and got the young man help.

We were not allowed to play in the quarry.  I never played on the high rims of it, and I never mentioned playing in the quarry. I take the fifth on my other activities concerning the quarry.

 When I was about thirteen, the neighborhood children and I heard through the grapevine that the fire department would fill part of the quarry with water in the winter to make an ice skating rink if we pulled weeds.  In the fall we pulled weeds, and that winter we had an ice skating rink in the quarry which we enjoyed immensely.

Art and Me

For the past five years I have taken my Webelos Cub Scouts to the Clay Arts Guild.  Every year the boys surpass me in using the pottery wheel, handbuilding, and glazing.  It is humbling to be over fifty and produce work well below the norm for ten year old boys.  After five years going to the Clay Arts Guild, I have finally produced something recognizable.  The glazing could be better, but I can see a penguin in the work of art.  I'm telling you that it's a penguin in case I happen to be the only person in the universe that can see that it's a penguin.

This years cubs.  The middle boy's Mom says he has taken to posing this way in all his pictures.  She says she could just strangle him.  I think he is trying to be funny.

On Giving Service

Today we had a discussion in Sunday school on sharing our goods and helping others. Per usual, we had the same old comments stating that we should give money to panhandlers.  If the panhandlers use the money for booze or drugs, then they are the people sinning. We can have a clean conscience knowing we were charitable.  We also had the same old comments about not judging.

Probably I make Scrooge look like chairman of the Red Cross, but earlier in the lesson we read a scripture about stewardship.  I thought we were stewards over the property we acquire.  So if we are wise stewards, we give our money to anyone who asks without using our brains or having any information about the situation we are attempting to improve with cash?  I kept my mouth shut for as long as I could, and then noted aloud that we were operating under the assumption that giving people things was helping them.  I'm not sure that we always are helping them.

I'm not convinced that to buzz over and clean an able bodied person's filthy house anytime the person requests free maid service is a wonderful act for them or us.  I question whether encouraging panhandling by passing out cash is really helping the panhandler or the community.  I especially question this knowing that panhandlers often conduct this activity while working for a panhandler "pimp," so to speak, who gets a large percentage of the earnings.  Someone once told me that God gave us our brains for a reason.  He gave us our hearts for a reason too.  We need both of these assets. I believe we are stewards over the material things we have been given. I know we need to be kind, share, and serve.  But I wonder if our mindless, inappropriate help will be judged any better that our selfish withholding of our material goods.

The Truck

One day, Wilbur’s staid 2002 Ford 550 Dump truck decided it was tired of being ordinary.  Maybe we weren’t giving this large, red truck enough attention.  Although, we made numerous repairs, (including two new transmissions) changed oil, and kept it filled with fuel among other things, this mundane maintenance did not fulfill the truck’s need to feel important.   To remedy this situation it caught on fire in front of Mike’s house.  Mike is our job foreman.

After the fire, the truck needed massive repairs, to the tune of $12,000.  Like the robot struck by lightening in the movie Short Circuit, the fire changed our sober, dependable truck’s personality.  It became mischievous and quixotic.  Wilbur and employees would drive the truck to a destination, only to have it refuse to start when they wanted to leave.  The worst trick our truck pulled was to stall in the MacDonald’s drive through and refuse to start again for about a half hour.  For some reason, MacDonald’s did not find this amusing.  The drive in management wondered if they could push the truck out of the way.   Pushing a 1 ½ ton truck loaded with 8000 lbs out of the way…..  Where is Superman when you need him?

For four or five months, the truck was in and out of the repair shop like a yo yo.  One part after another was replaced to no avail.  We paid bill after bill. Finally a team of mechanics attacked the problem and the truck pronounced healed.  So far, the truck starts when it’s supposed to, and we have received another bill.  What I am wondering is, would it make sense to pay the bill with a check that bounces? 

Quilting Class

I finally finished my quilt that I made for my quilting class.  Photographs never seem to do a quilt justice.  The quilt, especially the colors, look better in person.

Realistically Speaking

I attended a baby shower yesterday and learned that realism is now the trend in baby shower games.

Evidently, subjects a new mother might discuss with the nurse following delivery should now be incorporated into a party game.  According to the game leader, this was OK because we were being realistic.  Heck, I thought, if we’re being realistic why not dispense with the party games altogether?  The person in charge of games could borrow a movie from an institution that educates nurses and we could watch a delivery.  There’s realism for you.

I should have seen the new realism trend coming I suppose.  Several years ago I attended a baby shower where the hostess made a game of putting canned baby food into a diaper and having guests try to guess the kind of baby food ( e.g. peas, spinach etc.)  by smelling it.

Sorry for my weak stomach, but I thought the game was disgusting and not at all what I want to think about when I get together with friends.  I also thought it was low class.

My upbringing had limitations, but I am glad to be able to say that I learned that many times there is a difference between a subject a person might discuss in a one-to-one conversation with a trusted confidant and something that should be brought up before a public group, many of them strangers. 

Strong Views

Not too long ago, I discovered some letters my Dad wrote my Mom during WWII.  One of the letters written by my father, normally a quiet man, surprised me. My Dad had a very placid demeanor,  but he held strong political beliefs.  He was firm about what he expected.  All he had to do was look at my siblings and I, and we would toe the line.  You didn't want to tell him he was wrong about anything. But I guess no one likes to be told he is wrong. Mostly Dad was a Democrat.  His father's family fought for the South in the Civil War.  That side of the family was the most vocal politically, so I guess it was natural he would adopt those politics.  Although, Dad would be appalled at the position the Democrats take on social issues if he were alive now.  I remember Dad commenting that people living together was  disgusting.  He said, "I don't know why women let men get away with that."

Being of a calm disposition, Dad let a lot of things people said or did slide by. Since he didn't join the church until I was nine, I don't know if he had a more tolerant view of people's conduct that my Mom did, or if he just wasn't vocal about his opinions. He didn't believe in getting riled up unless it was something he thought was important.

He knew who he was and what he stood for.  Below is a transcript of a letter he wrote Mom from the Molucca Islands, July 24, 1945.  In the letter he expressed himself forcefully about something he felt strongly about:

     "Went to the show tonight and afterward to the club and had a couple of cokes.  Didn't care much for the show.  It was "Laddie Son of Lassie" and was in technicolor but it was to far fetched to suit me.
     In the combat camera picture they showed us some scenes from some of the German Concentration Camps.  Things to horrible to even think about.  I never dreamed that anyone could fall to such a low level of degradation.  I don't like to think about such depravity.
     Guess this isn't much of a letter sweetheart but such things rather get me down.  All I can say is that they should be shown no leniency whatever and after knowing what bestiality they are capable of if we ever let them get in a position to repeat their atrocities we will deserve anything that happens to us."

Here's to keeping the commandments. I want to be worth all the sacrifices Dad and other men and women made, so we could be free.

Article that Made Sense to Me

Balancing Truth and Tolerance, Dallin H. Oaks, Ensign, February 2013, p. 24.

New Four Wheeling Trail

Quite by accident, we discovered a trail made for motorcycles and four wheelers today.  We were stopped by snow as we climbed in elevation, but we plan to come back.  I particularly want to come back because the trail connects with Oregon Gulch.  My grandfather had a mine in Upper Oregon Gulch.  Here's what my Dad had to say about it:

"That was about the extent of my mining except that we dug some shafts there at York.  We dug a well right out in front of the house there in Kingsberry.  Then, we walked over in upper Oregon Gulch.  They had a claim there.  We dug some shafts there.  It was while we were doing that that Mom found that shark’s tooth – over there.

Me:  Did she dig for that or was it just laying there?

Dad:  It was on an old mine dump. It was laying in on an old mine dump as I understand it.

Me:  One of the teachers that was interested in that [when Petunia brought it to school for a science project.  She]  wanted to know if she [Grandma] dug for that or if it was just laying there.

Dad:  I think it was laying on top of an old mine dump. But it was in Oregon Gulch. There’s no road goes exactly to it. I know how to get over there.  I don’t know.  They might have it fenced, so you’d have to go over and walk up.  We used to be able to drive over to the edge and just walk down to the claim there, not very far."

View from trail on ridge

Just after the snow melts, web-like fibers appear at the edge.  I would like to know why.

The drift that stopped us.

Modern Medicine

When I have dealings with the medical community the following thought often runs through my little brain, “I am dealing with a lunatic.” 

This thought has romped through my mind when I have sat in the doctor’s office, the naturopath's office, the x-ray department, and at the hospital.

Scene 1

At the “imaging” place of business.  I have just been called in for a follow up mammogram because they saw SOMETHING on my mammogram.

X ray Tech:  See this little mark here on the mammogram?  That hasn't been there before.  That's why we need a follow up mammogram.

Me:  See this mole?

X ray Tech:  Oh!  (Realizes she didn't see it until I pointed it out.)   Well, no.  I don‘t think that is it. What we saw was lower in the picture. 

X Ray Tech puts a marker on the mole so it will show up on the “image.”

Me (thinking):  Oh that’s right!  Every other time I've had a mammogram, they have put one or two of those markers on me.  This time the Tech didn't put any markers on.  Of course, this room is so dark, she probably couldn't see a flesh colored mole.  Sure makes a lot of sense to keep your Mammogram room so dark that the Tech can’t see if she needs to mark anything.

X Ray Tech (lining me up in the machine):   Oh that mole does line up with the spot when you are in the equipment!  I bet it was the mole we saw in the picture! 

Tech proceeds to shoot three more pictures ordered by the doctor anyway.  Then she has the Doc look at the images online.  He pronounces all to be fine and directs me to come back in a year for another shot of radiation to my chest.

Me (thinking):  I am dealing with lunatics.  You will not see me here again.  I am done with radiation shots to my chest in the name of good health.  Yes, yes I know you told me currently 80% of women are get breast cancer, so mammograms are vital.  Anyone ever thought about checking up on the estrogen based birth control the medical profession hands out like candy as a cause of breast cancer?  Or how about years of radiation exposure from your Mammograms?  No! No! We cannot even consider those as causes!

Scene 2

I am at the OBGYN, eight months pregnant with Prudence.  All through the pregnancy, my iron has been lower than the medical pros would like.  After having the iron in prenatal vitamins give me diarrhea, I abandoned them.  My mother has been home the last month, and she has been cooking lots of roasts, which I, a young, married poor person, have been enjoying.

Doctor (looking at blood work):  Well, I see that iron is finally starting to kick in.

Me:  I haven’t been taking it.  It gives me diarrhea.

Doctor (menacing): Well, you better start taking it!

Me (thinking):  I am dealing with a lunatic.  I already told the doctors in this practice about my difficulty with iron.  There is no point in trying to tell him the facts of the situation.  I'm no good at arguments, and he doesn't want the facts to get in the way of his practicing medicine.

Scene 3

I have just had a baby at the hospital.  The nurse is putting sterile pads on me.  She drops one on the floor, picks it up, and starts for me.

Me:   You are going to put a pad on me that has been on the floor ? 

Me (thinking):  Hospitals, the place of infection control???  I am dealing with a lunatic.

I could write many more scenes, but this post is long enough.

Remembering Summer 2012

While cleaning up my pictures files, I stumbled across some pictures of our summer visitors that I had either forgotten about, or didn't know about.  What great memories of last summer.

And Who Is this Person???

If you want to puzzle me, send me a U-Tube video and expect me to be impressed by the presenter’s remarks, simply because he/she is famous.  Unless a famous person is a pro football or pro basketball player, chances are I have no idea who that person is.   Wilbur keeps me updated on the names of pro sports players, but I don’t even know these unless they are REALLY good, e.g., LeBraun James, Brett Favre, Dennis Pitta, etc.

 As for movie stars, singers, TV actors and bands, anyone who became famous after 2000, is probably a nonentity to me.  You see, in 2000 my twins graduated High School.  The last movie star any of my girls brought to my notice was Brad Pitt. Being in my 40’s at the time, Brad Pitt bore a strong resemblance to an obnoxious boy in my eighth grade homeroom.  When memory erasing is invented, my entire eighth grade year will be the first memory to go.

If children have a responsibility to update parents on pop culture, my son Orville shirked his responsibility sadly.   Orville, graduated in 2004.  During high school, Orville mentioned a fabulous classical trumpet player, Charlotte Church, and an excellent guitarist and singer from Bozeman.  Being a guy pretty fly to the time of day, Orville probably knew having a conversation with me about a hip band or TV star would produce a “deer in the headlights” look at best.   He was too smart to attempt it.

Those who interest themselves in how the “beautiful people” vote, what causes they support, what beauty products they use, what diets they like, where they vacation, what they wear, and what productions they star in, baffle me.  I have zero clue as to why this information is interesting.  As far as changing my vote or sending money to a cause because Mary Movie-star endorses it, why are her opinions better than my friends’, neighbors’, or mine?

Anyone wanting to chat with me about the lives of any of the rich and famous will be sadly disappointed.  I have enough trouble living my own life well.  I don’t need to become informed about the lives of a bunch of people totally unrelated to me, even if they are distinguished by how well they photograph, sing, play, or act.

Unavoidably, I glance at tabloid headlines while waiting in checkout lines.  They indicate that the famous seem to switch partners more often than square dancers.  It’s a mystery to me how they keep up with their own current close connections.   How could I ever keep up? And why would I want to?  Sadly if I need drama, there is plenty in the ordinary lives of the ordinary people I know.  Just because someone is “famous,” their messy lives are no less tragic than the ordinary folks’. I've always preferred comedy to tragedy.

I do like to talk about my family, hiking, wild flowers, American History, camping trips, my religious beliefs, old family stories, what could be done to fix the world’s disintegrating values, and what is going on in my life and my friends’ lives.  Chances are, if the name appears in National Enquirer or in the newspaper’s column about the stars, that’s a yawner for me. 

Idaho Farm Girl

Ione Thorpe 1947

R to L Little boy, Lucy Walker Thorpe, Athena, Thomas Thorpe, little boy, Ione, Preston

I enjoy talking to Grandma Latour on Sundays. Her life is so interesting! She was born on a farm in Pleasant View, Idaho, the second to the youngest of ten children. Probably because of cars being more prolific and dependable, this community has mostly vanished and is considered part of Malad, Idaho to all but the old timers.

Grandma has a high opinion of her dad. She said, "Dad was a busy guy. He was a wonderful guy. If anything new came out that would make Mother's life easier, Dad would buy it for her. Mom was the first person in Pleasant View to have a Bendix (automatic washing machine). Dad would take off work and help Mom on wash day. He was a farmer, so he could. Mom's health wasn't so good. Dad helped her every fall with the canning. He got the boys to help too. They would peel the peaches and pears."

Even though Grandma and Thad (grandma's younger brother)were the youngest children, her Dad found ways to spend time with her. "He read Thad and me the funny papers every night and kept me in stilts. I was always walking around on stilts." Grandma recalls.  "One day, Mom was gone and the bread had risen. Dad showed me how to make the bread dough into loaves."

For three years Dad was the Bishop. In those days, the Bishop's desk was in his home because there was no room at the church. He gave Thad and me drawers in the Bishop's desk. I remember helping him count the silver dollars paid in tithing. Joyce helped by typing the membership cards. Because of Mom's health, Dad resigned after three years."

Grandma also remembered tromping hay during haying. One day, they had a full load of hay and a snake slithered out from underneath the hay where grandma was tromping. Her Dad was jumped to the top of hay in a flash. She said it was hard to tell who was more frightened, her or the snake.

Since there was no TV, video games, computer, or all the other distractions that keep families disconnected from each other, Grandma and her siblings played cards at night and listened to the radio. Grandma and Thad's favorite radio show was Let's Pretend. It featured fairy tales. She and her brothers and sisters played card games too: Rummy and Steal the Pile. With all the boys, the play sometimes got wild. Grandma's Mom said if she could raise her family all over again it would be summer all year long, so she could send them outside. If the kids argued too much, Grandma's Mom would take the cards and toss them into the fire. Cards were not easy to come by, so they learned not to argue.

Grandma's Dad could be tough if need be. Once on a family trip to Yellowstone Park and man was wandering around suspiciously in the campsites. Grandma's Dad shined the flashlight in the miscreant's face until he took off.

I wish I had more scanned photos and stories about Grandma's family. They sounded so happy. They are good example of how families should behave towards each other. Thanks for sharing the stories, Ione!

My Mom the Cleric

Just before Dad returned from the World War II Pacific Theater, Mom moved to town and found employment as a nurse.  At that time, there were two hospitals in town.  St. Peter's Hospital was the older hospital, and St. John's Hospital was the newer one.  Looking back on it, I realize they were both located within spitting distance of each other and the downtown area.

Both hospitals were Catholic.  I remember going in the main entrance of St. John's and seeing Catholic icons in special display places built into recesses in the walls.  Not long ago, I went to an older home in Helena and noticed a similar display place built into the wall of the home.  It's current owners were extremely puzzled about the purpose of the recessed space in the wall.  The space didn't quite work for a telephone.

Probably because Mom found employment at St. John's Hospital,  my siblings and I were born there.

Mom worked as a nurse at the St. John's maternity ward.  One of her duties was baptizing babies.  The nun supervising the newborn nursery instructed her to baptize the newborn babies.  I was thunderstruck when she told me about this. It seemed out of character with my Mom.  She was not one to do something she didn't believe in.

 "Did you do that?!" I asked.  "Yes, I did,"  She replied.  "It didn't hurt one thing for me to do that, and it made the nuns feel better.  They thought they were saving babies from Hell."

So in the 1940's at St. John's Hospital we had an inactive Mormon woman from Utah performing Catholic baptisms for babies at the hospital.  Life does has some humorous twists and turns.

Ranch on the Smith

This is a picture of my great grandfather's ranch on the Smith river.  My grandfather and his brother were out scouting around and found this place.  They were under age, so they persuaded my great grandfather to file a homestead.  This ranch isn't far from my grandmother's parents' ranch.  This close proximity must be how my grandmother and grandfather met.

I think it stayed in the family until my grandfather died in 1964.  The family didn't want to pay the taxes, so they sold it.  I think it was sold to my grandmother's sister in laws' brother, but I'm not positive about this.  The brother had a ranch in the same area.  Wish we still had the place on the Smith.

If I Could Live My Life Over

If I could live my life over, I would love people more and criticize them less, if ever.

I would understand that no one is perfect and everyone will let you down sometimes.  I would remember that in spite of my efforts, I let people down too.

I would realize that frustration with others doesn’t change anything, and the there is small likelihood of anyone changing in response to my direction or words.  I would see that people walk their own paths and I may not comprehend their situation, even if think I do.

I would be more loving with my own family and less impatient with them and others.

I would take time to play with my children.

I would give more hugs and laugh more.

If I could live my life over, I would worry much less and have faith much more.

I would not worry about having the approval of other people and concentrate on having God’s approval.

Once a day I would look in the mirror and say to myself, “I am doing the best I can.”  Then I would climb a hill and yell into the wind this message to my imagined critics, “I really don’t give a damn what you think.”

I would forgive myself and others more.  I wouldn't distract myself from feeling bad about myself by dwelling on others’ flaws. I would quickly let go of others’ behavior that I perceive as inappropriate and put that energy into living my own life well.

 If could live my life over, I would remember more often to look for the humor in situations.

I would not compare myself with others and realize everyone looks good at church. 

I would keep in mind that this is earth life and it’s is normal for people, places, and things not to be ideal.  And I wouldn’t be mad about it.

I would remind myself that things will blow over when I made mistakes, and that everyone makes them. 

I would look at the bigger picture when trials came my way and have a sense of excitement about the great things in store for me, just around the corner.

I would remember to look forward, not back.  This day is the first day of the rest of my life.