Family Friday: Cross Country Blues

(This is a story written by guest author Grig Tank)

Eww...I just saw a colon.

High school is a fairly unpleasant time for most kids, and for me this was no exception. OCD and a particularly bad set of social skills helped me feel both more isolated and more mentally unbalanced than I really was. Everyone has their own magical solution for the unhappiness that is teenage life, and for me, that was a girlfriend. I had somehow come to the conclusion that a girlfriend would make my loneliness, obsessive-compulsive neuroticism, and general, teenage-related pains instantly transform into the golden, quirky life I dreamed of. In retrospect, my failure to know what to do or say around a girl may have saved me a great deal of trouble, since a girlfriend was the one thing I couldn’t seem to get. At any rate, I looked down the hall at the rows of lockers and milling students one day, and thought to myself: if something doesn’t change, I will go mad.

My solution was a simple, if poorly thought-out one: since school failed to properly distract me from my hormonally charged frustrations, I would use shock and confusion to do the job myself. I began hiding bones found in the woods and other oddities in my backpack, then donning them or using them as props to disturb others (a favorite game of mine was finding a circle of girls so focused on their conversation that they wouldn’t notice the deer skull about to perch on their shoulder until it was too late. I thought I was pretty funny.).

The feelings of isolation began to dissipate when I joined the cross country team. Along with the endorphins that running provided, the pleasure of being accepted into a group was a welcome change. I never actually thought about it in much depth, but the knowledge that I now had peers that enjoyed doing things with me made all the difference. That, and the fact that there were some very pretty girls in the female section. I was hardly any better at being social than before, but there was less time to pity myself now, and at least one of the girls seemed like a possible match. Hazel was quirky, short, curvy, and lived on a farm… all big bonuses, in my eyes. I began talking to her when I could work up the guts to do so, and even interrupted some kids playing a prank on her, once… the charity of the love-smitten teenager knows no bounds, after all. At one point, I went so far as to suggest that, if she ever broke up with her boyfriend, that she should consider me as an alternative. What happened a few weeks after that suggestion was one of the strangest, least-welcomed miracles I have ever experienced.

I had taken to talking to Hazel every week on the phone, perhaps several times a week, and things were going smoothly. One day, during our discussion, she abruptly said, “So, I broke up with my boyfriend.” Expectant silence followed. This was the moment I had been waiting for for years. I would take the place of my unfortunate successor, and all would be made well. Now, however, a wave of inadequacy and fear poured over me out of nowhere.

A car. She would expect her boyfriend to have a car to drive her around in. I understood that girls liked that sort of thing, but I had no money, which brought me to problem number two: I had no job. I wanted no job. I would have to buy Hazel things, to boot, and I imagined myself failing in all these regards and more, fear after fear hammering me with unexpected force. After what may have been thirty seconds of silence, I found myself saying, “That’s nice,” and then bringing the conversation to as amiable and abrupt an end as possible. The moment I hung up the phone, those fears vanished, and I literally kicked myself with frustration at how close I had been. Where had all that emotion come from?! I had ruined my chances beyond repair, as I thought, and I nearly screamed with fury.

Sometime after my tantrum, I came to realize that it might have been the Holy Ghost protecting me. I was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Hazel was not. I had seen what happened to people who married outside of the Church: often, they went inactive, but even when they didn’t, it was very rare for their spouses to become members, themselves. Worse still, their children often fell away from the Church when they began to be independent… why worry about a testimony in a God that Dad or Mom wasn’t interested in? In addition, I honestly think I wasn’t ready for the insanity that courtship can bring with it. Make no mistake, it is a pleasurable experience, but it’s also a frustrating one. Women can be difficult to read and anticipate, and the interest some of them have in mind games became a pet peeve of mine later on. I doubt that my teenage brain, which was still flailing about wildly, trying to handle its own problems, could have handled Hazel’s on top of everything else.

Later still, I would come to wonder about her reaction: was she heartbroken? Angry? Doubtless, she was confused, and I can’t help but think she may have dodged a bullet as much as I did. The final results of that bizarre event (and the rest of high school, for that matter) will probably only become truly clear to me after this world’s impending Endgame.

Family Friday: Independence Day and T.C. Howell

Happy Independence Day everyone!

We have a fun evening planned where we will spend time with family and light some fireworks.

I've finally picked another regular topic to go with my blog. Friday's will now be Family Friday. My plan is to share a story from either an ancestor or a relative. I think it will be an awesome way to compile some family stories and learn more about those who are the most important to me.

We want to include stories from both my and Grig's side of the family, so if you are related to us, please e-mail me some stories. They can be funny, spiritual, sad, happy, or precious. Whatever you'd like to share. Also, let me know if you want me to include your name, or if you want to be kept anonymous.

For Independence Day, I wanted to share a story about someone who fought in the revolution from our family. However, when I called my dad this morning, he told me that most of our ancestors actually fought for Britain.

"We're loyal," he pointed out.

After thinking about that, I had to agree that this is how our family is. We tend to be very loyal. He said he'd look for our ancestors who fought on the side of America. Also, he told me about a great story from the Mormon Battalion. I think I'm going to share that story.

T. C. Howell was a Mormon (a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). At the time, the government had been persecuting the members of our church, and they had faced a lot of hardships. However, when the call came for some volunteers to serve our country, they were not happy to go, but they went anyway.

Though they had been oppressed by the current government, they still loved and wanted to serve their country. That's pretty patriotic if you ask me.

So, T.C and several others formed the Mormon Battalion in the Mexican-American War. Their first commander, who was not a member of the church, was a wonderful man, and they loved him. However, after a while he was replaced by a less-likable fellow named Lieutenant Colonel Smith, who was verbally and physically abusive. They still followed his directions, but no one really liked him.

As a precaution at the time, when someone tried to enter the camp, the Colonel insisted that they had to tell the man on sentry-duty a password. This was to prevent enemies from entering without their knowledge. He came up with the password every night himself.

One night, the Colonel Smith got very drunk while he was away from camp. He came staggering back in, and my ancestor, T.C. Howell stopped him in his tracks.

"What's the password?" he asked.

The Colonel gave him a password, but it was not the right password. Instead, he told him the password from the day before.

My ancestor told him he couldn't come in.

"I'm the commander!" the man roared.

"If you can't remember the password, you must not be the commander," T.C. replied, and threw the man in the brig.

The next morning, the Colonel was sober and very angry, and insisted that he had remembered the right password. Finally, they showed him in his own handwriting that he had chosen a different password for that night. He was still furious, but T.C. was a hero to the rest of the camp (and his descendants).

According to another document I found on the story (link here), this encounter not only enraged Colonel Smith, but frightened him as well.

...for he afterwards remarked to another officer, that the man who took him prisoner "would just as leave kill a man as look at him."

That's pretty awesome. It goes on to state:

Those who are acquainted with the peaceable character of Brother Howell will be able to appreciate the effect of his firmness upon the Colonel, for there was generally nothing blood-thirsty indicated in his looks or manner.

That concludes our first Family Friday.

I also wanted to add that I love our country. I am a huge fan of people from other countries as well, and I love learning about their different cultures. However, I am so grateful that I was born in America. I read a comment from someone the other day asking, "What's so great about America?"

I want to answer that question.

America began world-wide freedom. At the time the country was formed, there were no republics or democracies. Monarchies and communism flourished. America is a David and Goliath story where a few settlers were able to overthrow a tyrannical ruler.

America was led by inspired men who created an incredible document: The Constitution.

America is great because of our history or freedom and our efforts to help those in need. We are also great because of the Constitution.

Currently, I don't agree with everything that our leaders are doing in Washington, but like my ancestors before me, I love my country. Even if I don't always agree with my leaders, I still try to support them in their righteous causes.

A lot of other countries have freedom now. We are not as unique as we once were, and I'm grateful for that. I'm grateful that others now can vote, speak their minds, and make their own choices.

America is also great because it is beautiful and friendly. Having driven from one side of this country to the other, I met incredible people and we saw beautiful country. We observed many native species (and a few non-native ones). I don't recall any part of the country where there wasn't beauty. We also never met a mean soul.

I love this country a lot. Sometimes I feel like people are too busy trying to find reasons to hate America instead of trying to find the beauty in it. We need to be that way toward other countries as well. There is beauty in every country and culture. We can respect and love all our brothers and sisters regardless of where they live.

This country has been very good to my family and my religion (for the most part). We believe that this is the only country that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints could have been restored on. That alone makes me love this country.

The fist holiday the early Saints celebrated when they reached Utah was the 4th of July.

Happy Independence Day!