Beach Haven

​As part of my efforts at a PhD from Virginia Tech (VT), I recently completed a major milestone. They call it the preliminary exam (or prelim), but it comes at the end of all course work, just before starting the dissertation process. I assume the word preliminary means at the start of the dissertation, but it feels more like an uber final to me. The process is challenging. I was given a large list of books and papers to select from. These published works were divided into the four disciplines of the program I’m pursuing. It’s called Science, Technology, and Society (STS). The disciplines include sociology, philosophy, history, and policy. In each of these disciplines, the topics studied all relate in some way to science and technology. For the prelim I was directed to select three of the disciplines, then select 20 books from each of the three, or 60 books. The instructions also allow for a substitution of five papers or book chapters in place of one book. I stuck with just books. Based on my list of 60 books, the committee (four professors) created four questions per each of the three disciplines I selected. I was to select two of the four questions from each area for a total of six questions. I then had two weeks to write a 2000-word essay for each of the six questions. This is the standard prelim process for the STS program at VT.

Writing was certainly a challenge. I was only taking one course per semester as a full-time employee at NPR, little more was possible. That means that some of these works and ideas I hadn’t thought about for as much as three years. Again, this is not unique to me. Most of my fellow students in my classes are in the same boat. In fact, the program I’m in is specifically designed for the working professional. After writing the essays the prelim was not done. The committee took a few weeks to review my writings, then they had two hours to discuss my essays with me in an oral exam. That happened two weeks ago. Thankfully I passed.

One thing I was thankful for. When I turned in my list of readings, they had me include a writeup on what I was likely to research for my dissertation. They created the questions with my dissertation topic in mind. The result was not only were the questions helpful at thinking about topics to address in my future research (including the questions I didn’t use), but also my actual exam essays can also serve as impetus for future chapters. That was their intention, of course.

I have attached both my book list, and the essays that resulted. In their feedback they felt I struggled with the essay on risk. I agree. My perspective on risk often gets caught up in my past experience as a project manager. STS considers risk differently, and so that essay is my weakest. They encouraged me to read again the book on risk by Lupton. I have it on my task list this summer. They also recommended another book titled Carbon Democracy by Timonthy Mitchell. I have since gotten a copy as another part of my summer reading. The point of reading Mitchell is that he approaches a specific topic from one framework. In my essays I tend to review multiple readings and frameworks. I thought that was a preference since the exam is supposed to be about showing I understand the material well enough for them to allow me to move into the ‘all but dissertation’ (ABD) phase of my studies. They made it clear that the preference is for me to argue for one framework over another in each essay. The challenge there is that each essay is only 2000 words and the time to write is short.

The end result, as I mentioned, is I passed and will now begin to form a dissertation proposal. That’s not the research itself, but rather a project plan as to what I’ll be researching and how I’ll approach the work. It will likely take a good three months just to get the proposal written and accepted. Wish me luck. 

​This is a slightly modified version of a story I wrote back in March of 2008 for the print version of the BHP.  Enjoy.

Fairview. It's interesting how a single word can churn up so many thoughts and memories. In a small town in eastern Pennsylvania in the early seventies life was blue collar. Houses were old and small. The people were wonderful and terrible.

Much of my life on Fairview Avenue revolved around the alley behind our house, the open grass lot next to the volunteer fire station just down the block, and Fairview Elementary.

Fairview Elementary was an old box of a building. It was solid red brick. The front doors were at the top of a tall set of concrete steps. The basement was half above and half below ground. It housed the cafeteria and the boiler room. The other two stories were classrooms, hallways and bathrooms. We didn’t get lockers. Each classroom had its own closet where we each had a hook for our coat and shared shelf space for a lunch box if we didn’t eat the cafeteria food that day. Most of the building was surrounded by an asphalt playground. It was on a street corner and the property stretched from Fairview Avenue to the alley. Behind was an empty grass lot across the alley. On one side was a neighbor’s house. In the narrow strip between the school and the house was a bit of rocks and weeds bordered by a tall chain link fence. Poplar Street ran the length of the playground and crossed Fairview Avenue. This is where I learned to fight. It's where I learned to avoid some people. It's where I fell in love the first time. It's also where I learned the nature of a lie.
 
I was ten. During the summer I had my first broken bone. Along with friends, I had been jumping off the banister on the front porch of our house. I'd done it hundreds of times before. Then came the one time when something didn't go the way it had so many times in the past. My arm went down before my legs. When I picked up my arm to look, I saw a perfect Z shape before the swelling started and turned it into a grapefruit. Both the bones in my left forearm had been broken.

The plaster cast went on. It went from my hand all the way above my elbow. Over time the cast filled with signatures of friends and family. It was my first real experience with a hospital. I remember sitting forever with my balloon arm wondering when they were going to do something. I remember being asked if I wanted my name in the paper.

I had never thought of such a thing. My name in the paper. Wow! Looking back, I understand this was just a standard hospital blurb in the weekly paper. In the more modern time of confidentiality and HIPAA this would likely never happen, but back then in small-town America it was business as usual. The idea both flattered and repulsed me. I would be known by all, but what would they say? Keeping my mind busy helped me to lower the crying and whining I had been doing because of the pain. I survived. Six weeks later, after all the itching, the saw came out, the cast came off and the summer went on. Then came fifth grade.

Fifth grade. The same kids were there from fourth grade. Radell Harding was there. She was a typical blond skinny, budding young lady to others. To me she was sighs and blushes. The game of the school day was kick ball. This was no wimpy little kids' kick ball. This was cut-throat and blood-loss-at-every-game kick ball. Bruises and scrapes were common. Glory and shame for the entire school year road on every game. Fights broke out every couple of weeks. It was wonderful for ten-year-old boys. I got my licks in like the rest. I also sometimes took and gave during the occasional spill-over fight that happened in the neighborhood when all the teachers were gone.

One of the best things for a boy to be able to do at Fairview was to work with the Janitor. I was on the crew. It was great because we could get out of class for the work. We also stayed some extra time in the boiler room. When the work was done, we'd sometimes agree that we were still busily working when we were really tossing paper into the boiler and watching it catch fire, or concocting other risky and destructive behaviors. The janitor was crotchety and rebellious like we were, and we all loved it.

Sometime just before Christmas my name came up for another fun assignment, milk detail. As fifth graders, we all got the chance to get out of class for fifteen minutes or so to go get boxes full of milk cartons and distribute them to the classrooms just before milk break. My turn would begin just after the holiday break in January. I was looking forward to the excuse to escape class each day, but not as much as I was looking forward to the holiday break. I had two things in mind for the holiday, sleeping in and snowballs.

At church there was a buzz. It was Sumo Tom, an unusual name for an unusual boy from an unusual family. The Tom family and our family were good friends. Their kids and those of my family were roughly the same age. Sumo was a year younger than me. They had horses and dogs. We had a dog, but that was it. Jesse Tom was the family patriarch. He was Hawaiian, real native Hawaiian. I was told he was some relation to Don Ho. His wife was Ethel. She had fire-like red hair that matched her personality from my childish perspective. I always thought she looked Irish, but I don’t really know. Sometimes our church put on talent shows. She would dance Hawaiian dances. It always seemed odd to me. She just didn’t look the part. All the kids in the family had cool sounding Hawaiian names.

Sumo fit his name. He was large and round shaped like the famous wrestlers. He had a happy disposition, and all us kids at church liked him. It was Sumo that caused the buzz at church. Just as school was getting out for vacation he had suffered appendicitis. He had to go to the hospital and have his appendix removed. We all got to see the scar. The girls were repulsed. We boys were sudden admirers of the cool stitches. Over the break I thought about appendicitis. Why couldn’t I have it too? I could be cool like Sumo when I went back to school. Oh well. Too bad.

After enjoying our week of frozen heaven, it was back to the grind of Fairview Elementary. My home room teacher was Mrs. Stout. I remember the name because just like Sumo, her name matched her person. She was older, probably not too far from retirement, a real seasoned and experienced teacher, a real veteran. We all knew that she knew her business.

“Welcome back class,” said Mrs. Stout. “How was your vacation?” The conversation went on between the instructor and her students. Each kid was taking their turn describing their Christmas presents, or visits with relatives. I kept thinking on what I would say. Then it struck me. Just one person ahead of me the wild thought crept in. I had no real time to actually think it through. I probably wouldn’t have anyway. Then my turn came. “I got my appendix out,” I blurted. An excited rustle passed through the nervous class.

“You did? When?” She asked.

“Just after Christmas,” I returned. I could see the admiration building in the faces of the other kids.

“Hmm, I didn’t notice your name in the paper.”
Bang! You could have knocked me over with a feather as the saying goes. All I could say was a weak, “What?”

“The paper. When someone goes to the hospital, they write something about it in the newspaper,” she said quizzically.

My face must have changed several colors. My heart raced. My mouth got dry. I was searching. Then it came to me. When I had broken my arm I remembered they asked me if I wanted my name in the paper. “Well, I told them not to print it,” I answered.
“Why not,” she continued.

Heart thumped and sweat came again, then a flash. I got it. “Well, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me, so I told them I didn’t want my name in the paper.”

Whew! I’d dodged a very big bullet. How did I manage that? Someone was looking out for me. Later that day came bullet number two. It happened during recess. One of the kids had a brother who earlier had  his appendix out. He told of the stitches and the large scar that resulted. “Hey Mike, show us the stitches!” I hesitated. They weren’t necessarily looking for proof. I wasn’t before the Inquisition, but it felt that way. Of course they were just being like I had been with Sumo. They wanted to see it because it would be cool. My mind again had to race. My heart was thumping. My body heated as I trudged through the sticky swamps in my mind pushing for the answer. The answer as to why I couldn’t show them my stitches. Then it came. Sumo was again my inspiration. I remembered he had to pull off a rather extensive amount of bandages to show us his stitches.

“I can’t. It’s all buried in bandages, and they told me I can’t take them off,” I proclaimed.

A collective sigh from my admirers was followed by my own sigh of relief. They seemed happy with assurances they could see the scar later whenever the doctors let me take off the medical wrappings. I was hopeful that I could push it off long enough that they would all forget about it and not ask later. In this I was right, but as it turns out, I was not out of the quagmire yet.

Milk duty, important words. Mrs. Stout reminded us it was time for the new roster of assignees to take on the responsibility to make sure we all got our daily dose. Ah, that half-pint of cold delicious vitamin D and calcium. She read the names then stopped when she came to mine. “Oh Michael, you can’t do this can you?”

“Why not?” I quizzed.

“Didn’t the doctor tell you no lifting until you were all healed up from your operation?”

“Wadaya mean?!” I’m sure she caught the frustration in me.

“Whenever a person has an operation like yours, they are not allowed to lift heavy items for fear the stitches might rip open when you strain your stomach muscles.”

“But the milk crates aren’t heavy!” I grimaced.

“Nonetheless I can’t let you do it. You’ll have to bring in a note from your parents when it’s OK for you to lift things again. When I get that I’ll try to work you into a future milk detail schedule.”

“How long will that be?!” I protested.

“Well, I’m no doctor,” she replied, “but I’m pretty sure the normal time is six weeks.”

I don’t know how many shades of red my face turned. I was red from fear of being found out. I was red from anger because I couldn’t get out of class for milk detail. I was red because I had no idea how I could convince my mom to write a letter that I was over my nonexistent operation enough to get on a future milk detail.

Six weeks! How could she know that? It couldn’t be that long, could it? Six weeks is forever! My thoughts kept stirring. Then I remembered it was the magical six weeks I had to wear that plaster cast when I broke my arm. Maybe Mrs. Stout was right about that. Dang, why do grownups always have to know so much? The solution was going to take me some time. Six weeks of time to be precise.

So, I needed a note from Mom. Hmmm. This would be difficult. How can I get this done? Well, I was sure she wouldn’t write it. So I guessed I’d just have to write it for her. This would take some real finagling. I needed something that she would write so I could copy it. I needed something that said more or less the same thing as a permission note.  Then it hit me. How many times before had Mom written an excuse for my being out of school? Every time I was… SICK! Of course that was it. I had figured it out.

I picked a day to be sick. I did a great job at being sick. I don’t know if she completely bought it, but she bought it enough to let me stay home. Of course, while my parents were at work I had all day to figure out what my milk-carrying, no-appendix-problem note would say. I was smart enough to have my “sick day” about a week before the six-week banishment was up. Sure enough, the next morning before going to work, Mom wrote my excuse for being home sick the day before. I had about an hour from the time she left until I had to be at school. I spent the whole time feverishly creating my forgery for milk duty. I carefully wrote over and over again using the sick note for my model. After what seemed like about a hundred tries, I got a version I thought sounded like the sick note and looked like her hand writing. I went to school and hid the forgery. A week went by. I handed in the permission slip “Mom” wrote. Mrs. Stout added me to the next rotation of milk duty. I was saved.

This is a totally true story. Well, I suppose a few caveats to that assertion would apply. Remember I was a 10-year-old. So the perspective of exactly how things were came from the limited understanding of someone of such a tender and inexperienced point of view. Adding a sort of questionable-ness to all of this is the fact that decades have come and gone since these events. If my understanding was shaky to begin with, it’s even worse now.

As I have recollected this experience in life over time, I’ve decided that in all likelihood Mrs. Stout understood what was really happening from the very start, or at least early on. I can envision in my mind teachers hanging out in their hallowed lounge where no student can enter. I see them in my mind laughing as they told and retold the story of the kid who pretended to have his appendix removed. In fact, I’ve even gone so far as to imagine my masterful forgery hanging on the lounge bulletin board for a reminder to all the teachers.
​
I did learn something from all this. As it turns out you can’t tell just one lie. Usually lying is an attempt at gaining something when, in reality, by lying you lose freedom. Trust is easy to lose and hard to regain. I wish I could say I never lied again after all that, but I can say it’s been a very long time since I’ve lied. Telling the truth, as it turns out, takes less work. You don’t have to remember what you said to whom. You just have to tell things as you remember them. That’s what I hope I’ve done here. No foolin’.

And so it is. Even something as mundane as mooring a crab boat. We keep our little sailboat in a marina at Solomon’s Island, MD. Today, the normal sleepy routine of the place has been overrun by the 21st Annual Calvert County Watermen's Festival and Boat Docking Competition. Maybe 100 feet or so from our slip there are hundreds of people sitting on temporary aluminum stadium seats cheering for their favorites.

What happens at this sort of event? Fairly large diesel-powered crab fishing boats back into a dock. At the sound of a loud horn, they come roaring out, water flying and black smoke spewing. They leave one slip bow first, move about two slips over, then back into the dock slot. When they toss the requisite lines over specific pylons to make the boat fast to them, another horn blows and the timer stops. When they do well, cheers go up. When a crew member misses the tie-up point while tossing the mooring line with a hula-hoop-sized ring on the end, the crowd expresses pity with the requisite “oh”.

Aside from the bleachers, hundreds more spectators climb over docked and anchored boats of every size and shape. Bikini-clad beauties and beer-bellied men slowly bake in the sun as they indulge in whatever beverage they prefer. At times it seems they pay more attention to their own on-boat parties than to the docking competition.

The competing boats have fun names such as Outlaw, Island Fever, Crab Place, and Miss Julie. It looked like nearly a dozen were competing. I was cheering for Some Beach, given my last name. My baby sister will find this interesting. Some Beach was piloted by a lady with the first name of Crystal. Outlaw and Crab Place seemed crowd favorites as they made the biggest noise, and the biggest waves. They both also tended to get the best times. I noticed there was a paramedic boat strategically placed at the conjuncture between the competing area and the party boats anchored just outside the marina. Smart.

Under Pressure got some positive crowd energy as it was at times piloted by a youngster. I don’t know if Hard to Handle referred to the boat, or perhaps someone associated with her in some way. Crusher was another that tended to make big waves and smoke. Throughout, Big Worm stayed tied up and acted as the judging platform. As time waned, she pulled out and did her own demonstration of quickly exiting one slip, then backing into another. She has the right name. Big Worm is easily twice the size of the others and painted a very bright neon green.

The atmosphere was definitely festive. The competition seemed real, but friendly. The same dock where the events were happening is well-known to the boat captains. Most mornings I see a predawn ritual happen when the crowd is nowhere to be seen. Boats pull up to meet a seafood truck. They offload their crabby cargo, then head out. I don’t know if they go right back out for daytime harvesting, or are just heading home at that hour. The same ritual happens at other times of the day as well so I suspect there is some sort of rotation for offload times.

On this comfortable September Sunday afternoon in a small touristy fishing and sailing town, an American microcosm is on display. We can make just about anything into a fun competition… and an excuse for a party.
​

At the end of June, I was able to help the Stake YM Presidency run a two day Aaronic Priesthood Encampment. Because of COVID we were asked to keep the camp local to prevent a long drive. We were also asked to make the camp a series of day-camps to eliminate overnight tent camping. So we did. We managed to offer two long days that included canoeing/kayaking, rifle/shotgun shooting, archery, geocaching, service projects, and competitions. At the end of the first night, each ward met separately and the bishops had time to hold a fireside discussion with their own youth. On the second night, the stake presidency came to camp and offered an inspirational fireside for the entire camp. We had nearly 200 campers including youth and leaders. As far as I can tell the boys enjoyed the camp. The front room in our home holds a number of lost-and-found items.

For camp we focused on the 2021 youth theme: A Great Work.

Doctrine and Covenants 64: 33-34

• 33 Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.
• 34 Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind; and the willing and obedient shall eat the good of the land of Zion in these last days.
  

There certainly are many ideas to unpack here. ‘Be not weary’ speaks to my experience from time to time. We each need to find a balance to keep being about His work ‘in well-doing’ without burning out. ‘Out of small things’ feels like a fair description of me and my efforts. We tried to stress to the young men that we are the small things bringing about a great work, but we ourselves are the great work. Our immortality and eternal life is God’s ‘work and glory’.

The idea of a ‘willing mind’ is close to my personal thoughts. From my limited perspective, our personal will is the only thing we have that is truly our own. Everything else we have, including our agency, is a gift from Heavenly Father. Our will is our own. Everything else we might ‘sacrifice’ would be only returning to God that which He gave to us in the first place. For example, our time is measured. We have no idea how much we have in this short life, but we know it will eventually end. Our money we earn, but only by using the gifts of health, personal talents, the political and economic environment we live in, and the culture we are raised in as a few examples. Agency is another area to consider. There was a time that I thought of my agency as mine, but actually my agency has been given to me. We all have agency, but with limitation imposed by both earthly and heavenly powers. Our choices with the agency given to us often removes future agency. Every person sitting in prison has much less freedom to exercise agency than those of us not in that circumstance. People whose choices led them to physical or mental health issues have lost some agency as well.

I’m sure each of us can gain much more from a study of these two verses. One note about an experience that brought me some pleasure at camp. The events were held at two separate locations, The Accakeek Sportsman Club, and the Virginia Outdoor Center. Aside from participating in activities, the youth participated in service projects at both locations. Staff and leaders of both places repeatedly told us how impressed they were at the way the boys acted during the event, and how well they worked during the service portion of camp. It was clear the boys’ actions spoke to camp staff. They were doing very good missionary work. All the staff from both facilities understood what our organization is and which church we are a part of. 
​

My aunt Marqueen Kitta joined the church a few years ago, a short time after my mother, her sister, passed away. Marqueen has a wonderful conversion story, but it is her's to share. I learned the whole thing not from her but from Caden Judd. He was one of the missionaries who helped teach and eventually baptize her. Caden went with us to the temple. As it turns out, he was working in the Virginia Beach area for the summer so we shared a ride to Philadelphia. His missionary companion was Brigham Taylor who was also able to join us in the temple. He and his father visited his brother in New York City, then drove south to join us. My sister Lisa was also able to fly out from Utah to be there. Marqueen was joined by a sizable group from the Berwick Ward where she attends church. We were sixteen people in all.

Because of the pandemic, it has been more than a year since my wife and I have been able to step foot into The House of the Lord. We of course have attended church in our local chapel, but the temple is unique for its sacredness. As Marqueen made covenants in the ordinances, I had the privilege to act on behalf of her husband, Uncle Joe, who died some time ago. Later she was sealed to Joe, then to her parents, my grandparents. Finally, Joe was sealed to his parents. The previous generation’s work had already been done by my mother before she passed away two years ago.

Attending the temple is always a wonderful, sacred experience. In the temple one is much more open to promptings of the Spirit, at least I find that true for me. I think that is because it is a set apart space reserved completely for making sacred covenants, and we were there to give service for those who cannot make covenants for themselves. For me this is the epitome of acting as saviors on mount Zion. Likewise, when we go to the temple, we go setting aside worldly things. That attitude alone puts us closer to God.

My wife and I have some fairly large and looming decisions we are weighing. We entered the temple believing we had the answer to at least one of the questions about our future. Both of us were comforted in the temple that we had made the right decision. We also were able to articulate for ourselves remaining questions, and a plan to follow as well to clarify the answers in order to seek additional confirmations.
​
How blessed we were to be invited to join Aunt Marqueen at the precise time we were feeling inspired to make some of these decisions about our future. It is yet another testimony to me that God is in the details of our life whether we recognize or acknowledge it or not. He wants to help us if we will let Him.  

My wife and I recently drove south to Georgia to spend Thanksgiving week with our daughter Kyra and her family. Like several of our children, Kyra is a certified SCUBA diver, but has not done much diving since her certification. She and I made a side trip to north Florida to go diving in a popular diving spring known as The Blue Grotto. It’s not far from where our nephew lives with his family so we were able to visit with them for a night. We got a short night dive that Friday, then two dives on Saturday before driving back to Georgia.

One of my church responsibilities is to work with the Stake Young Women President on stake sponsored youth activities. The activity planned last month was a movie night. I got the assignment to make sure all the tech was set up and working. I got word there is a portable large screen in the stake building. I called a brother I know in Aquia Ward to see if he knew anything about it. He described where he thought the screen is stored. Unfortunately to get to it required getting into the building. I have keys for a closet in the building, but not to the building itself. In the mean time I was scanning the Internet looking for screens to buy as an alternative, but for one reason or another never hit the add-to-cart button.

While wondering how to resolve the screen-need issue I decided to check my personal email. In it I found a note from Brother Zappe of the Garrisonville Ward. He is the Stake Executive Secretary. He sent me a personal code to give me access to the building. I had not reached out to him with a request. As a result I sent him this email:

Thank you! Perfect timing. You seem to be listening to the Spirit. I was just considering how I could get in to find and inspect the large projection screen we will need for the next stake youth activity. Brother Gillespie told me about it and where it is, but I had no way into the building.

Here is the response I got from him:

Great!! Well, likely the case. I was sitting here and it popped into my head that I need to issue the remainder of the codes. Glad it worked out!

As we celebrate the Thanksgiving season and I think what I am thankful for, I am thankful that Heavenly Father is involved in the details of the individual life of each of us. I’m grateful for the influence of the Spirit. I’m comforted to see others who are paying attention to moments of inspiration and acting on those promptings.

I hope each of us has experiences of similar note. Always act on them. I know in today’s culture being a ‘tool’ is thought of as a negative, but for me purposely being a tool of Heavenly Father is a goal. It’s His work. We can be a tool in His hands for the blessing of others.
​ 

July brought our family a momentous event. We took a week to join together at Yellowstone National Park. My wife and I enjoyed spending an entire week with all our children, their spouses, and most especially our ten grandchildren. We rented a vacation home in Island Park, Idaho which is about a 20-minute drive from the west entrance to the park.

Each day we enjoyed games, visiting the park, meals together, and family prayers. We had full-blown family meals as well. Most of the time was organized chaos. A few evenings we enjoyed sitting around the fire pit outside, and cooking hot dogs and s’mores. Several good conversations happened then as well.

One of the highlights came on Sunday. Our son Jacob and his wife Kanneisha recently welcomed their first child into their home, Lucy Paulene Beach. Their bishop gave permission for us to hold the baby blessing at the cabin with Melchizedek priesthood holders joining the blessing circle. Some of Kanneisha’s family traveled up from Logan, Utah to join us for the blessing as well.

Outside of visiting the park each day we scheduled one afternoon for a group horse ride on a nearby ranch. Another day we drove up to Gardiner, Montana to take a two-hour whitewater rafting ride. These side trips were lots of fun.

My wife and I were happy to find a way to make all this happen financially. We plan these reunions every third summer. We do it at this interval to give our children a summer with their in-laws and one on their own should they choose that approach. The reason we put so much emphasis on this is that we believe strongly that giving our family experiences is much more important than giving them stuff. We also get to see the solidarity and love within our extended family. We believe these memories will bring more strength to all of us in times of difficulty. Knowing we have others who care and will be there for us whenever we wrestle with difficult life moments brings some peace. These events also give us an opportunity to share direct testimony. Though we did not make a formal arrangement for sharing testimonies, there were a number of them shared in various settings with groups larger and smaller throughout the week.

Three specific thoughts come to me from the family proclamation in connection with our week together.

• Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children. “Children are an heritage of the Lord” (Psalm 127:3).
• Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ.
• Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.

It was my privilege and joy to witness these words displayed directly as I watched all of them. We are very blessed.

​Events continue to change as you are quite aware, both on the global and the local. In the area known as the DMV (DC, MD, VA) a combination of escalating orders have come from government officials and employers as the threat of COVID infections grows. As a result, my wife and I are both home. I work remotely, but I have a 24/7 operations center that cannot run fully remote without serious impact to distribution of public radio content throughout America. The DMV by-and-large have closed schools for the rest of the school year (though online assignments continue for students). Non-essential businesses are by-and-large closed putting lots of people out of work. Stay-at-home orders have been issued. For us that means we should stay home as much as possible, but it is fine to go to the store, order takeout food, pick up medications, etc. In VA there is not any real enforcement. Nobody is getting arrested or fined that I have heard of. So I work remote, get inside and outside projects done around the house, and dress more comfortably.

Early in April was General Conference for the church. It was certainly memorable as had been promised by the prophet six months ago. Everything was remote. There were no congregates onsite where the discourses were given. Everyone attended virtually, at home, through technology. That said, the Spirit was still strong. Because of the 200th anniversary of the first vision, when Joseph the prophet first saw God the Father, and His son Jesus Christ, we all participated in a solemn assembly which included the hosanna shout, usually reserved for temple dedicatory services. As seems so common these days, more temple construction notices were given. Michelle and I discussed a number of the messages we heard, and shared times when we each particularly felt the Spirit touch our hearts.

The next day, was my birthday. I got some birthday fun when I could open and install a new docking station for my Surface tablet. The tablet only has one USB port. With the docking station I can attach multiple devices through the single port. So far I have added my digital microphone/headset, and an external hard drive. Eventually I’ll add a keyboard/mouse, and large monitor. The other desk in our little home office has been cleared away and I’m able to actually use it for work, while I use the smaller desk with our old tower computer set up for things like typing this posting. Thanks to all of you who were able to reach out with birthday well wishes.

Other than setting up the new toy, the rest of my birthday was pretty heavily booked with meetings, including several that I played a leadership role in. My evening was taken up attending a class I’m enrolled in as part of my post-graduate work at Virginia Tech. There were two groups presenting last night, and my group was one of those. No rest for the weary I guess.

As the prophet asked, we participated in a global fast the Sunday before general conference. He asked us to do it again the following Friday (10 Apr), so we did. I’ve always found fasting a strengthening process. Aside from the standard approach of monthly fasting on the first Sunday of the month, I have found fasting at additional times for specific reasons a fruitful tool for me.

​I hope you are able to bring some good out of the challenging times we live in. Let go of any fear and have confidence in Heavenly Father.
​

This year my wife and I traveled to Utah to spend time with family for Christmas. It was fun opening presents, eating too much food, playing games, and getting in a ski day with our son Jacob. We also saw two movies, the next installments of Star Wars and Jumanji.

Before we left for Utah the wonderful missionaries serving in our congregation here in Virginia shared this year’s nativity video. This is a powerful tool to convey the Spirit. I was particularly peaked by the Spirit at the moment of His birth, again as the shepherds saw the angels, and one last time as one of the wise men first sees the star appearing in the sky. I shared the link to the video on my Facebook page. I hope it helped someone.

An interesting note, I have a particular interest in navigation. In the video the wise men use a specific tool to check their position relative to the north star. At first I erroneously thought they were using the device in reference to the new star. I didn’t recognize it so I consulted Google. The device is called a Kamal. In the video the Magi put one end of the chain in his mouth. He held up a rectangular card attached to the other end of the chain to gain a position. How it is used is explained on the website Online Star Register:

The Kamal was composed of a wood or horn parallelogram one inch by two inches long. Strings were inserted through the center. The string composed of knots at different points along its length. Each knot, called an isba, equaled one degree 36 minutes. The knots ranged from 1 to 16 isba. The navigator would put one of the knots between his teeth and hold the Kamal at arm’s length. When the upper and lower edges of the device became coincident with the pole star and the horizon, the navigator knew his latitude was correct. The latitude of different ports corresponded to the position of particular knots on the string.

One other point that came out as my wife and I discussed the Come, Follow Me topic in the car on the way to Utah. Although the star was a sign the Messiah was born and helped guide them to Jerusalem, it did not light directly over the manger in Bethlehem (contrary to popular depictions). The wise men had to seek out Harod’s scholars who in turn had to dig around through the records to find the name of the town. The video points out that their visit was much later, after Christ was more of a toddler than a baby. By that point they were no longer living in a barn. So the wise men first had to have studied over years to know the sign and to understand basic astronomy. Then they had to be diligent in watching for the sign. Then they had to be willing to follow the sign. Despite that, they still had to consult scripture to know of his location. Then once close they had to ask the townspeople to point to the specific house. Is that not unlike our efforts to seek Him as well?

One final note. This year was the first we celebrated Christmas without our mothers. They both passed away last year within three weeks of each other. As we were traveling home we noted how this year just didn’t feel like Christmas. Not all of our family could be there, but that is always true. However, of our parents, only her father is still with us. Despite the games, presents, family and all the rest, without our mothers it just wasn’t the same.
​

This past October our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, held its semi-annual general conference. It was also a weekend full of experience. Over the past few years of conference there has been continued change happening throughout the church. These changes are usually announced and discussed in general conference. I was actually able to attend the Saturday morning session with our son Nathan and son-in-law Kevin. Another son-in-law, Ryan, works for the church and was there for a very long day helping with the cameras. I want to share one experience from the session that reminded me of when I was attending the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo many years ago.

The conference center is large and accommodates many thousands. As you might guess, as more and more people began to fill the venue the noise volume also rose as we all engaged in our small conversations awaiting the beginning of the session. The choir and general authorities eventually were all also seated. Then the entire room hushed. Everyone stood up. There was complete silence. About 30 seconds later the First Presidency entered the room. There had been no signal given. No messages projected on the screens in the room. The prelude had continued as normal. Despite that, we all stood up and stopped talking. It was clear the Spirit we directing.

The reason I was in Utah had nothing to do with conference. Because of some of my national and international association work, BYU Radio had invited me to make two presentations on campus the Monday after conference. One of these they called a ‘masters class’ about radio industry trends, and what they might consider implementing in their station roadmap. The discussion was to be tailored for members of their station leadership.

The other was to be a presentation about my career. This one was odd to me. I often present in public settings about various industry or technology topics, but not about my own career. When I balked at the initial invitation some months before, their staff assured me it would be helpful. They said they look for people with a northern Utah background who have gone out into different industries and managed to be successful. The incentive of these sorts of invitations (they assured me others have been invited over the years) was to encourage students and staff to consider career options that takes them away from the immediate Utah geographic region. It seems they have many students who graduate with some sort of degree but don’t think to move from the area. This can make it difficult for many of them to find good work in their respective chosen fields of study. 

Since I was going to be there anyway, I went early and spent the weekend with some of our children and grandchildren. It was fun. One other unique aspect of General Conference this time was that a number of us had a calling change from the pulpit with no idea it was happening. In my particular case I will still serve on the Stake High Counsel in our stake, but since I have been assigned to support the Young Men program, as announced, that means I will now serve as the Stake Young Men (YM) President in my role on the Stake High Council. I have been involved with the YM program in one way or another since 1988. My wife was still here in Virginia. She immediately texted me that she couldn’t stop laughing, because here I was again coming back into the YM program after my recent release as our ward YM President. We’ll see how this all works out. The new approach seems to have a great deal of potential if families will buy in and make it happen.

Articles of Faith
9 We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.

My wife and I spent a chunk of the Friday before Mothers Day north of DC in Maryland. An older couple that I minister to lost their grandson Michael to Cerebral Palsy. He was 24 years old and suffered of the disease since his childhood. We got to meet some of the extended family.

The bishop up there actually knew Michael as a child along with his mother. The mother died years ago from cancer and Michael had been in a care facility ever since. When this bishop knew the family he had a daughter who also had special needs. He was not the bishop then, and they were all together in a completely different ward (congregation of our church) than the one they are in now. Several years ago Michael’s church record was transferred from our ward to the ward in Maryland. At the time this brother was not yet the bishop.
​
I find it amazing all the things that had to line up. This particular brother had to be the bishop at this particular moment, and Michael’s care facility had to be within the particular ward boundaries for this bishop to have been able to officiate at this funeral.  

This past Monday (20 August) was the day. Did you miss it like I did? Yesterday, a day late, I saw a posting about it and did a little quick looking up. I found a few interesting posts.

This one includes an audio clip from someone at WTOP:

https://wtop.com/life-style/2018/08/my-take-what-does-national-radio-day-mean-in-2018/

This one comes from someone calling himself a “radio survivor”:

http://www.radiosurvivor.com/2018/08/20/happy-national-radio-day-2018/

This link is to a site that shows celebrated days all year for many different things. I note they remind us that 20 August was not only National Radio Day, but also National Chocolate Pecan Pie Day:

https://nationaldaycalendar.com/2018/08/19/august-20-2018-national-radio-day-national-chocolate-pecan-pie-day/

On the page is a “How To Observe” section:

To celebrate National Radio Day, listen to your favorite radio station and give special recognition to your local radio personalities. Use #NationalRadioDay to post on social media.

Educators, join the National Day Calendar Classroom to get your students involved in National Radio Day with crosswords puzzles, a podcast and more! Every week the classroom offers a variety of lessons and projects to keep children engaged and learning.

It turns out, National Radio Day even has its own Facebook page. Who Knew?

https://www.facebook.com/search/top/?q=national%20radio%20day

To be sure not to miss it next year I dropped an annual recurring item into my Outlook calendar on 20 August. Radio is an important part of our society and has been for a very long time. We at NPR Distribution play a key role in helping radio stay strong and healthy as an industry. We do this as we help the greater public radio community share national content with local station listeners.

Maybe next year I’ll celebrate with a slice of chocolate pecan pie.

As I write, it’s Monday evening, Memorial Day, and I’m sitting in the DCA airport getting something to eat before a flight to Atlanta. Michelle dropped me off on her way home after we had an enjoyable day in and around Baltimore.

I was struck by two things in particular as we toured a few sites.
 
The first happened while we were at Fort McHenry. I’m sure you will remember that this is the site where a battle of the War of 1812 took place that inspired Francis Scott Key to pen the words to The Star-Spangled Banner, our national anthem. Before walking out to the fort, there is a small museum where you pay to enter the park. Aside from some artifacts and murals to look at, there is a small theater where visitors are encouraged to watch a short historical film about the battle and anthem author that makes the fort so famous. As you might guess, the film ends with a stirring rendition of the national anthem. Per tradition, all 40 or so of us who were in attendance stood and put our hand over our heart. About half way through the music, the screen we were watching the video on rose to expose the actual fort through the glass behind the screen. In that moment the work had its effect. I felt a patriotic chill on the back of my neck, and my eyes watered. I then noticed that Michelle was similarly affected. She even reached into her purse for a tissue to wipe her eyes.

I had heard the story of Francis Scott Key before, but reviewing the history of the full battle made more sense of his experience. It feels clear to me that the man was inspired of Providence, stated in the vernacular of his day. Here we are, more than two centuries later, and his words set to music still inspire the rest of us. Though the rendition played in the film only shared the first verse, the one we are all most familiar with, I couldn’t help but think of a phrase from one of the later verses, “Let this be our motto, in God is our trust.” That phrase stuck in my head and heart as I walked around the battlements.
 
The second experience that struck me was when we were walking around on the USS Constellation. It was the last American Navy ship commissioned that used sail as it’s only propulsion. It is still a commissioned ship in the US Navy today. As Michelle and I walked around the different decks of the vessel we noted to each other some of the set up of the rigging, navigation systems, anchor and mooring systems, etc., that were similar to our own little sailboat. Of course the scale is hugely different. Michelle also asked me occasionally about how things worked as compared to the ship I was stationed on in the Navy back in the late 1980’s.

What stood out to me was how much of the human set up was the same. It was clear that the traditions of my days at sea were very similar to the traditions of those who sailed on the Constellation. Much of the equipment had the same names and uses. That is true. I was thinking more about how the ranks of men and the division of authority were real from both a responsibility perspective, and also in the physical layout of quarters, mess facilities, watch positions, battle positions and the like. It is clear that there is both a separation and an interdependence between the officer corps and enlisted ranks necessary to keep groups of people working together in a self-reliant and disciplined way. Without that organization and team approach to warfare, a ship like the Constellation, and later my ship the Duluth (LPD-6) could never successfully complete assigned missions.
 
On Memorial Day we remember those who died in war, who gave their life in service of our country. I never lost anyone I was personally close to during my short four years of service. I did participate in several operations where lives were lost. I did experience some of the fallout that comes in the immediate aftermath, and to a small degree the fallout that comes years after the fact.
 
When I think of these two experiences we had today, I hope that we can remember to keep God in our lives. I firmly believe that when we do personally, He will involve Himself with our personal lives. Likewise, so long as we in general stay close to our core values as a people, the same will be true for our nation. I also believe firmly if we distance ourselves from Him we are left more to our own recourses and the buffeting of an adversary that is firmly in our opposition regardless if we recognize it or not.
 
“He that seeketh his life shall lose it, but he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.”

This post was originally published in May of 2016 on another platform:

This past November the National Association of Broadcasters (NAB) offered the Content and Communications World (CCW) Conference in NYC. A subset of that event included the annual SATCON show. Looking over the agenda there were a number of topics that point to the growing presence of hybrid networks. By hybrid networks I mean those that combine satellite and terrestrial links. An example of a hybrid network would be the PBS proposed v6 system that included Multi-Protocol Label Switching (MPLS) ground-based mesh connectivity The proposal would also add satellite overlay for disaster recovery (DR) and to get to sites where the MPLS is impractical. Regardless what happens with PBS, we at NPR Distribution will need to keep tabs on how the technology around hybrid networks continues to advance.

Here are some conference sessions listed that point to this growing hybrid network trend (I underlined key phrases related to hybrid networks):
 
SATCON Keynote: The Satellite Industry Today and Tomorrow, A Dialogue Between Today's Industry Leaders and the Promise of the Future
 
The satellite industry is alive and well, and it's changing dramatically. How will the emerging industry leaders take it to the next generation? Senior executives are armed with experience and knowledge, and challenged with implementing new solutions, motivating the work force, and maintaining a healthy bottom line. The opening keynote of SATCON will feature the three winners of the SSPI Promise Awards in a dialogue with our C-level executives and will provide a forum for discussing trends, technologies, challenges, and opportunities.
 
Fundamentals of Satellite Communications Systems Part 1
 
This 2-part seminar is designed for government and enterprise professionals who need an introduction to satellite communications. The seminar will provide an understanding of when to use satellites and how satellites both compete and coexist with terrestrial communications and will conclude with an overview of recent and proposed communications satellite systems. Part 1 covers satellite basics including orbits, frequencies, digital transmission techniques and ground station technology for point-to-point, point-to-multipoint and full-mesh satellite communications networks.
 
The Internet of Things: Marrying Satellite, Wireless, and Fiber in a Hybrid World
 
The Internet of Things (IoT) represents the idea that more and more items in our lives, including our bodies, will be connected to a sensor, data will then be transmitted via those sensors through various pipes, to servers which will then act upon that data, ideally to better all our lives. Yet, a huge part of that process remains undetermined and ready for input and activation. Pointedly, that would include the bandwidth necessary to carry all those digital ones and zeros. What will be the right mix of satellites, and ground-based wireless and fiber distribution that will one day make the IoT work seamlessly? Who will be the key stakeholders 5-7-10 years hence? Where will it work best? What are the major challenges and opportunities? When will it happen?
 
Fundamentals of Satellite Communications Systems Part 2
 
This 2-part seminar is designed for government and enterprise professionals who need an introduction to satellite communications. The seminar will provide an understanding of when to use satellites and how satellites both compete and coexist with terrestrial communications and will conclude with an overview of recent and proposed communications satellite systems. Part 2 covers applications for communications satellites-including mission- critical private networks, disaster recovery, rural telephony, and multicast.