Some Things You Never Forget

There are some things I know I will never forget.

I will never forget listening to the O.J. Simpson verdict in the 5th grade.

I will never forget hearing in Rexburg that Princess Diana died.

And I will never forget hearing about the attacks of September 11, 2001 as reported by Rick Dees In The Morning as I rode in the car with Robyn from seminary to high school.

In Mrs. Switzer's journalism class we brushed the news aside (thinking it was just an unfortunate plane crash) so we could continue learning about how to make our school newspaper less "bubbly," or the difference between libel and slander.

In Mr. Pence's physiology room, we listened to the news on AM radio. It could've been in his class that we learned of the second plane hitting the other tower. At that point we knew it was more than mere coincidence.

The rest of the day was a blur.

I remember feeling comforted knowing that a special meeting had been called in the tabernacle.

I remember watching CNN, Fox News, and the BBC for the latest updates, and I remember flipping through all the channels and seeing that from channel 3 to 73 (except for Nickelodeon), all regular programming had been cancelled to air continuous coverage of the monumentally life-changing news.

And I remember how even in California we knew people that had barely escaped tragedy's path. Josh flew out of Boston that same morning (see here), and Matt and Corey would've been in one of the towers had it been open to tourists.

As a country we all felt vulnerable to other attacks.

In the weeks that followed, I learned that anthrax is more than a castle from Monte Python.

I kind of wish that we all remembered a little better the events of that day.

And that we still all flew our flags every day and took them down with care every night.

It was a terrible, terrible day, but it sure did make us better people and unite us as a nation...

for a month or so.

Camille Cleverley Memorial

The hymn wove through us like audible Gospel thread tying us all to each other.

Tonight I went to the candlelight memorial service for Camille Cleverly, who a few days back was reported missing. This afternoon her body was found near Bridal Veil Falls.

I don’t know much about what happened, nor did I know Camille. However, I do know a lot of girls in the same boat Camille was in just hours before she disappeared, and felt like I should remember not only the girl that disappeared, but how vulnerable we all are to sudden and drastic changes, and that we, like the candles we lit in Camille’s remembrance, can quickly start flickering or even be blown out (if you know what I mean).

As I sat there among the mourners, I got to thinking about how one person’s death is really sad for everyone but the dead. We all get left behind to deal with life without the deceased, and the deceased gets to go hang out with grandma and grandpa while they patiently wait for us to die and join them. And I’m sure that the time that passes between a loved one’s death and the deaths of those left behind is much shorter for the dead on that side than it is for the living on this side. The only thing that could cause the deceased grief would be our grief (and I suppose the sins of the world, the overall rejection of the Gospel, etc.).

The Scriptures say that our nature doesn’t change from night to day when we die, so maybe as we grieve, we should think about what the dead one would tell us if he or she were allowed to communicate with us. If they were funny in life, they’d probably be funny in death.

The memorial service was beautiful. As we lit our candles in the darkened stadium, Elizabeth Smart played a song on the harp. We reflected on things, such as the fragility of life, how complacent we become when we think we’re safe, etc., and at the end of the harp solo as we continued contemplating life, a closing prayer was offered. After the final “amen” was said, the crowd, under the inspiration of Heaven and direction of angels, simultaneously broke out into a whisper-quiet rendition of Nearer My God, To Thee.

It was the perfect ending to a rejuvenating Sabbath.

Michael Johnson: How I Spent My Summer Vacation!

A few days ago I completed my final (I hope) trip of the summer, driving from Nashville to Provo. It was an experience, to say the least, and I'd like to share some of the insight I gained as I travelled through Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, and finally, Utah.

In Kentucky, you can get a chicken biscuit and biscuits and gravy at McDonald's for breakfast.

In Illinois, there are very hefty fines and 14 yr. prison sentences for hitting road constuction workers.

St. Louis, Missouri is pretty cool, but the people at the McDonald's where we ate lunch were really, really scary.

Missouri takes a really long time to drive through.

Iowa was cool, but we were only there for less than an hour.

Every small town in Nebraska has a Super 8 Motel and a WalMart. We wanted to spend the night in Lincoln, but there was no place to turn around on the freeway, so we went on to Seward, Nebraska. Seward has a Super 8 and a WalMart.

Chayenne, Wyoming is almost as scary as the McDonald's in St. Louis. Come to think of it, Evanston, Wyoming was pretty dang scary, too...at least the truck stop we stopped at.

Don't plan a road trip thinking that everything will go smoothly. Everything went well for us until we made it to the Wyoming/Utah border, where traffic came to a screeching hault for two hours. We were so close to home, but weren't moving at all.

I'm thankful for Mountain Dew, Diet Pepsi Max, and Dr. Pepper, without which I couldn't have survived the drive.

I'm also thankful for the many landmarks I saw as I crossed the plains:

The Museum of American Quilters' Society

The St. Louis Archway

The Mississippi River

The Missouri River

The Platte River (that we crossed at least 19 times)

Cabela's world headquarters

...and so many other things I can't even think of.

I love Middle America.

So, here's a quick recap of this summer's trips:

Salt Lake, to Dallas, to Miami, to San Pedro Sula, Tela, Copan, Tegucigalpa, Choluteca, Danli, and Tegucigalpa (again), Honduras, to Miami, to Nashville, to Chicago, to Salt Lake.

Salt Lake, to San Diego, to Placentia, to Salt Lake.

Salt Lake, to Placentia, to San Diego, to Salt Lake.

Salt Lake, to Pheonix, to Nashville, to Kentucky, to Illinois, to Missouri, to Iowa, to Nebraska, to Wyoming, to Salt Lake, to Provo.

You figure out the milage...

I guess I'm ready for school to start again.

The Many Faces of Robyn!

So, it's not technically Robyn's birthday anymore, but I guess I should still pay homage to my older sister, and dedicate a blog to her. So, to all you out there in blogdom, this is a sampler of why I love my sister Robyn. Kimberly did her's with numbers, so in my constant striving for originality I'm gonna do mine with letters.


A. When Robyn was a teenager and starting college, she never excluded me from being friends with her friends. In high school, she even let me sit in her room while she talked to Nir on the phone.

B. Robyn has a really cute son, who often makes the same facial expressions as his mom when they pose together in pictures. This picture is a bad example.

C. She's not embarrassed of her buck teeth. Okay, those aren't real, but she does have a good sense of humor, and being around her helps us all to laugh a little more.

D. Robyn doesn't mind being in my stupid self-portraits.

She's always been a great sister. In high school and college I was able to follow in her footsteps and feel proud for what I was doing. If she hadn't gotten 100% attendance in seminary, I wouldn't have made 99.9999% (I missed one morning 'cause I had to set up for an assembly, which apparently wasn't a good enough excuse for an excused absence...). After watching Robyn serve a mission, it was a lot easier for me to swallow the idea of being a missionary myself.

Robyn, you'll always be an example to me, and I'll be fine if I can be half as good as you are! Keep blazing trails. I love you, happy birthday!

Oregon! It's Way Better Than Utah!

That was our mantra for the weekend: "Oregon! It's way better than Utah." Allow me to explain why.

When I say that, I'm not talking about the Utah known for its snow and ski resorts. I'm not talking about the Utah where all of my family lives. I'm not talking about Moab, Park City, Sundance or anything even slightly interesting or exciting. Utah, for me, is school. Utah is the two square miles I live in all year. I work, study, and play within that square mile for most if not all of the year. That's why all weekend long we said, "Oregon! It's way better than Utah."

Now that's out of the way, I'll explain what I did in Oregon.

Last semester, Audrey, a girl from my ward, invited a bunch of people (more like 3 or 4 people) up to Oregon to go rafting. I ended up being the only one that stuck with it, and thus had to travel up to Oregon all alone. MapQuest said the trip would be around 11 hours, so I told myself I could do it in 10. When I finally made it to Audrey's house, I'd been driving for 12.5 hours...and I was tired.

I was trying to take a self-portrait as I got onto the freeway in Boise. Traffic started moving while I was posing, thus explaining my worried face.

I drove up on Thursday and got to Oregon around 8 pm. On Friday, Audrey took me on a tour of the local waterfalls. They were beautiful. The best part may be that they were within about 20 minutes of Audrey's house in the Portland area.

This is Multnomah Falls, the second longest waterfall in the States or something like that.

As if it couldn't get any better, after the waterfalls we went to Burgerville. I ordered a burger, which was good, but I also ordered a raspberry shake, which was divine. We ate there on Friday and Saturday, wished we could have on Sunday, and Monday as I was driving home a sign on the side of the interstate that said, "Last Burgerville for 84,000 miles," or something like that, prompted me to get off the road and buy another shake. I miss Burgerville.

Friday night we went to a YSA sponsored boat dance that went down then up then down and up the Willamette (will-LAH-mut) River. The river passes right through downtown Portland, and gave us a great vantage point to the city.

I stayed at Audrey's house all weekend, where I met her mom, sister, brother, brother-in-law, aunt, niece, 2 uncles, 2 dogs, cat, and friends. Hopefully I didn't leave anyone out of that. I enjoyed meeting all of them, but I especially enjoyed meeting Louis, the chihuahua. He may have been yappy and cursed with bad breath, but I loved him anyway, and by the end of the weekend was ready to bring him home with me. The sad part is that I think Audrey's family was ready to let Louis come to Provo as well.

Saturday morning was the big day. We woke up not too early to drive out to the Deschutes River. There were six people in our group, three of whom I already knew (Audrey, her friend Colin, and Rachel Aina who lives in Oregon but was in our ward last year). Jennifer and Erin were the other two. PS, the thumbs up was very much included in as many pictures as possible.

Rachel and me posing on the river after she had just fallen out. Fortunately, I didn't fall out on any of the rapids. I even rode the raft "bronco" hoping for some excitement, but didn't get kicked.

Audrey had told stories about a certain rapid named Boxcar (pictured above somewhere in the background). Last year she fell out of the boat at that rapid and was recycled under water in the current for some amount of time. I think she hit that rock right behind her head in the picture. She still has a game hip from the accident. She made sure we all remembered that and respected the river. I think we all gained an appreciation for the power of the river when we turned around after a rapid and realized our guide had fallen out! He was okay and managed to keep his hat and glasses on through it all.

I took this picture after we crossed the class 4 rapid. Unfortunately, I can't remember its name. It was an exciting ride and kept us on our toes for a good minute. That's Colin (the guide) with the hat and glasses.


This is a picture of Charlotte, as in Charlotte's Web. She's a stupid toy that Marianne got from Burger King or something. She's been to Hawaii and Lake Powell and almost made it to Nashville and Honduras (I accidentally left her in my car). I decided I needed some company on my trip, so I brought her with me to Oregon. She didn't actually go rafting, mainly because my only pocket was over my butt and I didn't want to be sitting on Charlotte all day long. I left her in the car.

On Sunday we went to Church, sat around for a while, and then went to Washington (the state) so that I could say I had been there. One more state off the list (or on the list, I guess).

Monday morning Audrey and I went to Krispy Kreme, thus fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine to eat donuts in Portland. I left Portland at about 11 am, and made it back to Provo by 10:30 pm. Taking account for the time change, it only took me 11.5 hours to get home! I would've died if it had taken another hour.

And now you know why we said, "Oregon! It's way better than Utah."

July 5th, then 4th, then 3rd...it's how the pictures uploaded.

The winning team...if you want to know of what, read further.
All of us!
Group hug.

The Friday night Sonic crew. We usually work 'til 10 or 11, and then we all go out...it works out nicely. Last week we started playing street hockey in the Macey's/Sonic parking lot. We round up all of our car and play between them all...don't worry dad, it's a lightweight plastic ball, so no dented cars.
Chelsey.
Meghan and Bethany.
Hard core! I guess bare feet are better than sandals.
Good thing somebody had the medical tape.

Sorry, the pictures are a little out of order. This is the day of the 4th. I got back to the parade route at 8 AM. I was feeling generous, so I bought bagels for everyone. This is Meghan, the organizer of the camp out.

The night before there were a lot more of us...this is the small group that stuck it out for the whole shebang...is that how you spell shebang? Notice I'm wearing my one patriotic-like shirt...thanks to dad and Harley Davidson.

Apparently, Meghan knows Rob Moncur, my companion from the MTC. I was surprised to see him there. He was smart and brought a tent...so he stuck it out all night.

My tire has a nail in it. Hopefully I can get it fixed today, but until then I'll be frequenting the free air pumps of Provo. I was forced to buy a tire gauge...at least it was only $3.50.

I had to work the night of the 4th...thus no pictures. However, work was pretty cool. I was up in the President's Loge (that's right, loge...) for Stadium of Fire. I served the likes of Glen Beck, Orrin Hatch, Gov. Huntsman, Elder Bateman, and Pres. Samuelson. Unfortunately, we had to leave before Brooks and Dunn performed. We finished up right before fireworks, so we all went up to the Skyroom to watch...it was good bonding. The fireworks were good, but it's not the same when you can't hear the noise of the fireworks shooting up and exploding.

The night before the 4th was spent on the streets of Provo. A bunch of people from catering got together and camped out on the street. I was going to stay the night, but at 3 AM I decided that my real bed that was three blocks aways was much better than the streets. Devon, I think we should start a Ron Paul Revolution... To solve our boredom problems, I made up games like see who has the sparkler that burns the longest. My leg was slightly burned in the process...but only slightly. The funny things we do when we're really tired.

A Week In The Life...

So I went around this afternoon to take some pictures to put up here on my blog. Hopefully this will fill you in on what I've done this week and what my life in Provo is really like!


Brooks and Dunn are coming on Monday (tomorrow) for the Freedom Festival's Stadium of Fire. I'm not a huge Brooks and Dunn fan, but at least BYU is letting famous, non-lds artists come perform on their campus. I'm excited serve them on the 4th.

On Saturday night I was in the ballroom serving 680 Freedom Festivalers. It was pretty hectic, especially since I had to serve the three tables right in front of the podium. I didn't realize it when I started, but Elder Featherstone was at my table.


On Friday night I was at the conference center serving a ward party/luau. That wasn't that exciting. The exciting part was the entertainment in the other banquet. As I was getting the back ready to clear the banquet floor I heard Carmen Rasmusen singing in the other room. I guess it's not that great, anyway, since she did live in Helaman Halls my freshman year. Then again, Marie Osmond was taking psych classes my freshman year as well...we didn't wait outside of her classroom to see her, I swear!

They've already torn down W and V Halls, and as soon as EFY is over, Q is coming down as well. I decided I better get a picture before it's too late. If you look closely, you'll see I've got the thumbs up, but I'm not smiling.

My friend Lindsay was taking carillon (bell) lessons during Spring Term. One night before one of her lessons she needed to practice, so we went with her to the tower. We were then taken up to where we never thought we'd go...the top of the bell tower. It was great, and while Lindsay was practicing at the bottom of the tower, we watched episodes of Arrested Development at the top...until BYU security guards heard us, climbed the stairs, and out of breath told us that it was too much of a liability for us to be up there. We climbed down, but we still know where the key is if we ever want to climb back up!

A week ago on Saturday was the big dedication day for the Hinckley Building. All sorts of VIPs showed up for the event, but I don't think they realized that all night before the dedication there were painters, tilers, etc. literally putting the building together. I got there at 5:30-ish to set things up for Pres. Hinckley's birthday bash, but unfortunately I didn't get to stick around...I had to work on another event elsewhere.

Over the last few weeks, it seems like Utah County has been on fire. On Friday, Squaw Peak went up in flames. Marianne and I went to check things out. Below, we are reenacting our spectatorship.

And of course, the thumbs up.

Marianne's sister-in-law is volunteering for the Stadium of Fire, and on Thursday (I think) we got to drive golf carts from the Riverside Country Club to Lavell Edwards Stadium. There were six drivers, and we lined up like ducklings from the CC to the stadium! It was AMAZING.

I took this after I went golfing with Cody. I was a little burnt. I took golf lessons six years ago and had not been back on a golf course (to play golf) since then. I used Cody's old clubs, and it was fun. I wore the visor so I could play the part. I was also wearing argyle socks, but didn't get a picture of them.

My renouned self portraits.

This is where I go running every day. I'm getting bored with this blog, so I hope I don't bore everyone that reads this. If I do, sorry...it's pretty boring.