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Re: Oh death, where is thy sting?

Posted: Wed Feb 01, 2023 6:02 am
by huckelberry
Res Ipsa, I am unsure how to discuss your reflections. I can say i am glad I read them, finding them a thoughtful reflection. They are well written and are substance worth reflecting on.

Thank you.

Re: Oh death, where is thy sting?

Posted: Mon Feb 06, 2023 3:39 am
by msnobody
Death definitely stings. I’ve come to realize I’m still grieving the death of my parents. Thank you for sharing about those who meant and still mean a lot to you.

Re: Oh death, where is thy sting?

Posted: Thu Feb 16, 2023 1:15 am
by DaveIsHere
Ok, Ipsa, is this fiction or is this you venting some seriously heavy in real life stuff on us? I ain't gonna even try to offer opinion, much less advice, until I know this is metaphor/allegory or if this stuff legit, no-crap happened.

Re: Oh death, where is thy sting?

Posted: Thu Feb 16, 2023 3:26 pm
by Res Ipsa
DaveIsHere wrote:
Thu Feb 16, 2023 1:15 am
Ok, Ipsa, is this fiction or is this you venting some seriously heavy in real life stuff on us? I ain't gonna even try to offer opinion, much less advice, until I know this is metaphor/allegory or if this stuff legit, no-crap happened.
It all happened.

Re: Oh death, where is thy sting?

Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2023 10:09 pm
by DaveIsHere
Wow, that's a lot to process. Hope it helped you to get that out.

Re: Oh death, where is thy sting?

Posted: Sat Mar 04, 2023 12:22 am
by Res Ipsa
Death of a Mentor

I liked growing up as a Mormon. We moved around quite a bit as I grew up, but the church was a constant. My earliest memory of church is playing red light, green light on the front lawn after primary when I was four or five. I live within several blocks of that chapel, and that memory makes me smile every time I drive past it.

But my “home” ward was 90 miles north, in Bellingham. I “helped” add a wing to the chapel, so I always felt like it was my chapel. When we first attended there, the stake center was in Seattle, which was at least a two-hour drive at that time. When they split the stake and we only had to drive a little over half an hour south to Mount Vernon, it was a big deal.

T was one of the young men’s youth leaders. I can’t remember what the program was called at that time. I came in just as they changed the name from the Mutual Improvement Association (motto: The glory of God Is Intelligence”), and it seemed like the program was changing every couple of years.

T and his wife M were young and had lots of enthusiasm for and a pretty good rapport with the young folks. When I was 14, we formed an explorer post within the scouting program. I don’t remember why. What I remember is that T and another guy took us on the mother of all road trips. We drove to the Oakland temple to do baptisms for the dead, then continued on to Los Angeles for some fun. I can’t recall all we did, but I know we went body surfing, to a tri-stake dance and to the beach at night for a grunion run. The last was amazing. And tasty.

T drove his old VW van, which rapidly was dubbed the “fun” car. Lots of singing and joking and bonding.

T and M were big road show supporters, and road shows were kind of my jam. They supported us young folks without taking over running the productions. I think we were the only ward at the time in our stake where the kids were in charge of the whole thing, while the adults provided help and support as needed.

I spent a fair amount of time at T & M’s house. At some point, four of us guys decided we wanted to form a barbershop quartet and asked T to help us do it. Of course, we couldn’t. It takes time to mature into a strong base voice that anchors a barbershop quartet. But, T had a bunch of records of folk and similar groups, and helped us learn four part harmonies for some of those. It was fun, although none of us ever had a gold record.

Mostly, I remember T & M as warm, supportive and accepting.

When I got on Facebook, I found several members of the old ward in Bellingham, including T & M. We chatted from time to time about what we were doing and current events. One day M sent me a picture of a bunch of writing on a notecard. Right away I recognized my handwriting. I’d told her my Then favorite joke way back in ‘75 or ‘76, and she’d asked Me to write it down. It felt nice to learn that she still had it.

We tried to set up a visit a couple of times, but plans fell through. Then the pandemic hit. They lived in a retirement home, and I didn’t want to risk exposing them or other residents to COVID.

Sometime in December, I logged in to Facebook and learned that T was in the hospital. A well or two later he was dead. Another genuinely good person that I was lucky enough to have encountered in my life was gone.