I Love the Cello

I got on my bike for the first time in a year this weekend. Jamie and I biked in Prince William National Forest. We traversed unpaved roads that varied in texture from sandy to treacherously rocky. I was overly cautious and refused to bike down any steep hills, opting to walk my bike down instead. Jamie was turbo and maneuvered the rugged terrain brilliantly. Biking was tough but I enjoyed the challenge of conquering both the trail and my fear in the quiet shade of an isolated green space. It is great having a husband who loves the outdoors and is excited about engaging in activities that immerse us in our environment.

As soon as I walked into church yesterday I was paralyzed by the rich sound of the cello. A man in our ward, who we just learned has an enormous musical talent, was warming up to later stun us with an arrangement of “Be Still My Soul,” a favorite hymn of mine. As soon as his bow struck the strings my soul erupted in emotion and I couldn’t stop crying. I have thought a lot about the connection between music and my emotions and in this case, the music was a perfected form of raw worship. The deep, sensual tones of the cello seem to reach into places of beauty and gratitude that words could never find. After thanking him for his wonderful performance, he told us that in the French hymnal there is a song written to the music of Dvorak’s New World Symphony. Can we please get that song in our hymn books?

Reading

Yesterday I learned that children entering kindergarten from middle to upper income households have been read to an average of 1,500 hours. I was afraid to even guess the average number of hours for lower income children and when I learned the actual figure I was stunned. 50. Children from lower income families entering kindergarten have only been read to an average of 50 hours. Generally these children have parents or single parents that are either illiterate or work several jobs and simply don’t have the time to read to their children. Immediately I realized how easy it has been for me to take for granted my love of books and learning. I can’t imagine a life without engaging fiction and educational non-fiction. My future children will benefit from my love of books because I want to read to them and ultimately help them learn not only how to read, but how to love words, language and books.

Speaking of words and language, my husband is a hidden poet. Sometimes he surprises me with a verse or two and I am silenced with admiration at his ability to make the mundane transmundane with thoughtful observations and clever words. He is my ethnographer and has a remarkable ability to make the familiar unfamiliar and the unfamiliar familiar. He gives me a creative context for life and I am so grateful for his warm and beautiful companionship.

West Wing and the Olympics

As an enormous fan of West Wing, I was thrilled to sit in a Census news conference today. The annual Income and Poverty report was released today, which is the second biggest project that the Census does behind the Decennial. The director gave a nice introduction then the numbers were unveiled. Sadly, the official poverty rates increased and as would logically follow, the number of people in poverty increased and the poverty rate for children rose from 16.7 percent in 2002 to 17.6 percent in 2003. After the numbers were released, reporters were allowed to ask questions and that was when it got really West Wingish except that the questions were not too probing or aggressive and the respondents were not nearly as witty or defensive as Jeb’s press secretary. I am really enjoying my new job.

On another note, the Olympics are rocking my flabby world. Watching American Deena Kastor win bronze in the marathon was surprisingly very emotional for me. She entered the stadium and upon realizing that she would medal, she started to sob and cried for the remainder of the race, probably because she felt both joy and relief. Her triumph and emotion made me cry, partly because I know running a marathon would kill me and I really like my life and I am not ready to die right now. To train she would run an hour (read: 10 to 12 miles), nap, lift weights for two hours then finish off the day with another hour or so of running. I love it. I wish my full time job was to run and lift weights and have a hot bod. In an effort of solidarity, I jogged yesterday and felt triumphant in the two miles I endured.

I watched men’s volleyball last night for the first time and was elated to discover that a sociology peer of mine and former BYU volleyball star was on the men’s Olympic team: Ryan Millar. I remember him being really nice and fun to have in class, which says a lot because the jocks were a blight on the sociology department.

Being Lost

Jamie and I saw "Open Water" a few days before going to the beach. More than simply being a scary movie--Open Water condensed the fear of being lost into a frightening image of two people drifting hopelessly in the ocean. I know that fear. I was held hostage in a tent for an entire day with a menacing grizzly bear a few yards away. At least I was able to take comfort in knowing that my location was known and that if I didn't show up at the camper drop off, the authorities would be notified. A companion is essential in frightening moments because the ability to share fear is a great comfort, even if only subliminally.

Garrett Bardsley has been missing in the rugged Uintah mountains since Friday morning. I used to think that he would be found alive and perhaps suffering a bit of ptsd but nevertheless he would be in the arms of his family. The rescue mission has been transformed into a recovery mission. The furor of Open Water was manifested in an unfortunate and tragic manner. At first I can't imagine what his parents and siblings are suffering but then I wonder how scary it must have been for him to be lost. My heart goes out to his family and I will cling tightly to all the people I love, thankful for their good health and location in my life.

Giving it a Go

This is good for me. I used to write a lot but I stopped and suddenly, the creative part of me is stunted and shriveled. I have been reading blogs for many months now and my impression is that they are a great forum for individual and group dialogue, just be careful what you say...

I have decided it is time to set aside the fiction in my life and pick up the history books. Knowing more about revolutionary America and Jacksonian America in addition to the history of Arab peoples is important to me. Ever since I graduated from college I have felt an urgency to continue learning and acquiring new skills and sometimes I don't feel very successful. I would also like to become fluent in another language and to have my own perpetual education fund that allows me to take classes from local universities any time would be great...any philanthropists in the crowd?