Reverently, Quietly

Our bedtime routine includes family scripture time. Since before Ammon could talk, we have found that we can get the kids' attention and increase the reverence if we begin with a song. Obviously, we prefer church songs or hymns. Tonight, Chris was in a different sort of mood. We were supposed to be reading the scriptures on our bed. Chris grabbed his guitar and sang "I am a Child of God" to the tune of "Grease Lightning." Imagine "I am a child of God and he has sent me here (salvation, oh salvation). Has given me an earthly plan with parents kind and dear (salvation, oh salvation)." etc. And naturally, the kids decided that they should dance and jump on the bed. Here are some photos of our reverent scripture study. I hope you don't lose all respect for our family. Just remember that the Rawlins genes in me require that I disapprove.

Mail Check

When we go to visit Grandma and Grandpa, out kids love to check their mail. For some reason it is a great treat to be able to bring in the mail. The other day, we were riding scooters out on Grandma's front sidewalk. Bethie rode her pushtoy to the corner, but it's a lot of work. So she walked back to the house. When we passed the mailboxes, she stopped and stood facing the back of them. She just stared at them. I said, "Come on, Beth." She said, "Hold on. Wait second." So I waited. Then she said, "There. I check mail." And turned and walked into the house.

My Boots Are On

As many of you already know, U2 released a new album last week. It is U2's first album in 5 years, I believe. I know there are weightier issues to discuss, but I would like to talk U2. My friend, Stephanie Johnson, first introduced me to U2 at a youth conference. We listened to a particular song over and over while she wrote down the lyrics. (That was in the days before you could call up lyrics to any song on the internet.) Even then, I was impressed with the deep meaning of their lyrics. This, I decided, was no ordinary band. I have invested in all of their albums. And as B.B. King said to Bono, "You awful young to be writing such heavy lyrics." Maybe he said, "mighty young." Either way, they write meaningful music. Remember the Superbowl halftime show in 2002? It was just a few months after the terrorist attacks in New York (commonly referred to as 9-11). Who else but U2 could present an appropriate and heartfelt show? They were able to pay tribute to all who lost their lives--and then sing a song that gives the rest of us hope for the future (It's a Beautiful Day). Honestly, it was incredible. I know I was already biased, but there is no other band that could make a Superbowl halftime show that emotional.

Anyway, I have spent too much time watching "Rattle and Hum" over and over. I love the raw energy and passion of their live performances. In high school, I had friends I referred to as my U2 friends. We would get together and talk U2. That's all we had in common. But we were great friends because we had a solid foundation of a great band. My best friend, Jaye, married one of my U2 friends. I have a lot of memories surrounding U2. The last concert I attended was U2--in Denver--on their Zooropa tour. (I'm not a big concert goer.) When, in 1998, U2 released its first Greatest Hits album, my friend Neal and I went to the midnight release party at some record store in Salt Lake. I was the 11th person in Utah to own that cd. I have enjoyed listening to their new music this week. I read people's impressions of it and am grateful that I am not a music critic. I am a fan; and therefore, I am allowed to enjoy music just for fun.

Over the years, as I have watched Bono singlehandedly changing the world for good, I have reflected on how I chose my teen idol. What foresight! What maturity! What depth! Amazing, really. Chris, who isn't much of a U2 fan, has often said that he believes Bono (and Oprah) will be blessed eternally for the good they have done on this earth. Really, if you are unfamiliar with Bono's many projects, you should research them. You could write a term paper on that research--there's that much material. He is impressive--very intelligent and practical. I don't agree with all of his opinions or causes, but one cannot argue that he is doing the best he can with what he knows. Bono is married to his high school girlfriend and has never been accused (even in the tabloids) of misbehavior (other than drinking a bit too much and then passing out). Honestly, if you're going to look up to a celebrity, this is a good one.

It was so fun last week--U2 week on David Letterman! All week long, Bono and the boys playing their music and having fun. I love this band. I don't quite have the same obsessive passion for their music that I had when I was 17, but this is a great band. I could go on and on, but I think I already have. Thanks for listening.

Life imitates art?

There are those of you out there who wonder whether it's a good idea to imitate a favorite literary character. My experience of the last day tells me that it's not. I start my stories with a little background and finish with two examples of why NOT to imitate what you read.

A little background: Yesterday, Sarah went to a birthday party. There was a pinata. Inside the pinata was lots and lots of chewing gum. I hate chewing gum. I hate it so much, it's not allowed at my house. After the kids go trick or treating, I go through their bags and throw out all the gum. When Ammon was little, he thought the Word of Wisdom was that you should not drink coffee or chew gum. Because it is contraband, my kids love it! Anyway...Sarah shared her gum.

Example #1: Violet Beauregarde (from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl)

Nathan grew tired of his piece of chewing gum. So he took it from his mouth and stored it behind his ear. It stuck pretty well to his head--and hair. Even when Chris scrubbed and scrubbed, it would not come clean. What works for Violet, does not work in real life.

Example #2: Br'er Rabbit and Br'er Fox (from Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris)

Nathan grew tired of his gum in his mouth AGAIN! He took it out to stretch it between his fingers. Before long, it was stuck (and I mean STUCK) to all of his fingers. His hands were disgustingly stuck together. He could not get his seatbelt off. It took a very patient father (mother--not so patient) and a whole lot of baby wipes to clean him up enough to go in the store. It reminded me of the whole tar baby incident. The more he tried to get free, the more caught he was.

Chris's version

This is the story as Chris remembers it:

I met you (that's me) at a baptism. I knew I was going to marry you.