Francis Church to Virginia

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Longfellow's Bells

In 1861, Henry W. Longfellow's wife, Fanny, died from a tragic accident. Her dress caught fire in her home and she ran to Longfellow for help. He tried to save her, but was unable to put out the fire in time. Longfellow's face was severely burned in the accident.

The first Christmas after Fanny's death, Longfellow wrote, "How inexpressibly sad are all holidays." A year after the incident, he wrote, "I can make no record of these days. Better leave them wrapped in silence. Perhaps someday God will give me peace." Longfellow's journal entry for December 25th 1862 reads: "'A merry Christmas' say the children, but that is no more for me." Almost a year later, Longfellow received word that his oldest son Charles, a lieutenant in the Army of the Potomac, had been severely wounded with a bullet passing under his shoulder blades and taking off one of the spinal processes. The Christmas of 1863 was silent in Longfellow's journal. Finally, on Christmas Day of 1864, he wrote the words of the poem, "Christmas Bells." The reelection of Abraham Lincoln or the possible end of the terrible war may have been the occasion for the poem. Lt. Charles Longfellow did not die that Christmas, but lived. So, contrary to popular belief, the occasion of writing that much loved Christmas carol was not due to Charles' death.

Longfellow's Christmas bells loudly proclaimed, "God is not dead." Even more, the bells announced, "Nor doth He sleep." God's Truth, Power, and Justice are affirmed, when Longfellow wrote: "The wrong shall fail, the right prevail." The message that the Living God is a God of Peace is proclaimed in the close of the carol: "Of peace on Earth, good will to men."

Christmas Bells

"I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Brush with fate

My toothbrush retired today. Not of its own volition, of course. Toothbrushes don't just shrug their bristles and say, "ehhh, i've had a good career. Made it through two tubes of Crest. I think I'm gonna go pursue other things. Maybe start up my own gig scrubbing showers or sumpin'"

No, toothbrushes just don't do that. Because they know that once they are done with the whole teeth-thing, they'll likely spend their silver years molding under a bathroom sink as the designated home "utility brush."

Since my toothbrush wasn't going into the night peacefully, I considered it my duty to take action. Show him who was boss. Exercise management control. So I brought him in for a little career counseling meeting.

Me: You know, Brush, I really appreciate everything you do for the company. Your dedication is unmatched.

Brush: Oh...thank you. I do my best y'know. Fight tooth and nail *chuckle* for this company...

Me: Tooth and nail. Ha. Funny. Yeah, the thing is that we've had some complaints about your uh bristles. They're too soft. And your blue indicator line faded away months ago...

Brush: You really believe those marketing scams? They make those blue lines fade away YEARS before you actually need to replace us. That's how Procter and Gamble makes its money, chief. They're rollin' in the greenstuff because of those indicator lines. I'll bet the guy who invented that is laughing his head off in Aspen, eating some kind of expensive French dessert at an overpriced ski lodge.

Me(muttering):Yeah well...at least his teeth will be clean...

Me: Ok look, the point is, you're done. You're yesterdays salami, Sunday's paper, The Old Kid on the Block. You've had a good run, but the show is over. It's time to call it Q. Pack up. Ship out. Move west. Try your hand at other things.

Brush: Are you firing me? After everything I've done for you? Just like that?? No notice!! I can NOT believe this. Remember when I worked overtime for you before that second date? Ten minutes of brushing. Ten minutes!! Huh? Remember that?

And what about the time I showed up to work even after you had just eaten fourteen oreos--I knew it was going to be a dirty job, but did I complain? Not once. Not a word. I was granulated for weeks. And did you ever even have the decency to buy me my own holding container? A cheap jerk like you, not a chance! Most of the time I was relegated to the second drawer or that horribly smelly leather travel case you own. And let me tell you now, man, that leather case is sprawling with bacteria. It's like an H1N1 spring break in there. And the drawer isn't much better. Hope you get strep throat, boss.

Me: Look, do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to move on to a new TB? We Heywoods are cheap. If I had my druthers, I'd just boil you for 30 seconds and call it good. But there's this little thing called the American Dental Association...

Brush: Oh, pish posh on the ADA!! Don't bring them up. They have nothing to do with this and you know it!

Me: Oh yeah!

Brush: Yeah!

Me: We'll choke on this, brush: "The ADA recommends that consumers replace toothbrushes approximately every 3–4 months or sooner if the bristles become frayed with use." And you are FRAYED!

Brush: No, I ain't afraid of anything. Fine. Send me to the showers. I'll scrub your mildew. But you better double and triple check your brush before every use because one day SHAZAM I'll show up in that VirusChamber you call a drawer and you'll be brushing your teeth with Comet reside. You just wait, Heywood, I'll have my revenge...

In the Last Days...

A writer for Slate said this about Mormon culture. Interesting.

If I had a million minutes...

I think I might try to write a few books. Not because I think I could write them well (I don't have the raw talent for that, which is why I work in the business world), but because I think it would be fun.

The first few books I would write:

From Deacon to Dating: A Guide for LDS Teenagers. I would write this in a style much different than, say, a John Bytheway book. There'd be a lot of lists. Practical pointers. Tips. I think the style would be like a modern men's magazine (not a dirty men's magazine, but something like Esquire, GQ or ESPN:The Magazine).

A satire of LDS romantic fiction/anything that Stephanie Meyer writes. Self-explanatory. Have you read that stuff? Someone needs to respond.

I've Been Everywhere, Man A book about truck drivers. There's gotta be some cool stories floating out there. Heck, I could even write a memoir. Quit my job as an accountant and drive truck for a year across the country. Learn Trucker Talk. Freight turnips and trusses and plastic combs across the continent. If at all possible, the book would have a foreword by C.W. McCall (unless he's dead).

Brothers don't shake, brothers gotta...

Crazy.

NY Senkyoshi

I loved this. Watch it.