Crunchy Taco

He opened his present with the excitement of a five-year-old boy who forgot Christmas was that morning. The new keys gleamed in his hand, and the shiny truck chirped happily when he pressed the button. Shining Lunar Mist, eye-blinking chrome reflecting the sunlight, and hiking boots for tires were the order of the day, and his happiness at the long future they would have together was contagious. Never was a little boy, er... grown man... so glad to have a new truck. He left his new found joy in the hands of a capable brother when it came time to leave the city. He knew it would be there, waiting for him upon his return. But then... Mini Van was hungry, and couldn't be satisfied by anything, except, a little Taco. Out from the right and across two lanes she jumped, grabbing the little Taco by his boots and flipping him onto his head. His heart was still beating as he slowly, but certainly slowed, and then... No one could prepare him for the call. No one did, as a matter of fact. The only words of comfort was that it was quick. Quick and spectacular, with sparkling glass, breaking out of doors, and stories of survival that will live through the centuries. Well... perhaps just a few weeks. Either way, The little Taco has seen his last day.

Oh, just a final note: The brother is in excellent shape and was the voice of reason. He calmed the owner of that crazed hungry minivan right down.

Around the Bend

I've had a song by Marty Robbins stuck in my head...


Just married this morning, how happy they are.
Just Married written on the window of the car.
It broke my heart to see them drive away.
I lost the one I love today.

Dressed all in white satin, white lace in her hair.
She looked so lovely, it was more than I could bear.
Some people guessed the way I felt inside.
They saw the tears I could not hide.

I should have stayed at home, I knew what was in store.
But something made me come to see her just once more.

Just married this morning, how happy they are.
Just Married written on the window of the car.
It broke my heart to see them drive away.
I lost the one I love today.

Window to No Where

I had what we lovingly refer to as a Bryce moment. I suppose I should explain...

Dr. Bryce Rytting is a professor at the University where I studied. A musical genius to be sure, and loaded with the most endearing idiosyncrasies ever imbued into one person.

One day, while in the Men's Room doing... well, whatever it is men to in a men's room, I looked up to find Bryce walking into the WC with all the grace of Michael Richards in prominent character.

"Jarom?" Says he.

"Yes?"

"Has this bathroom always been here?"

"Well, Yes" Says I.

"Hmmm.." Says He; and continued. "Do you know when I discovered this room?"

"Just now?"

"Just now..."

And with Kramer-esque grace started for the door.

"Wait!" "I mean no disesteem, but how long have you been here?"

He turned to me. "Nine years..." And rushed out.



Now... I told you that story so I could tell you this one; the excitement level may not me as high, but it was reminiscent of that day.


I recently got into a house. It's red brick, two stories and a basement-all liveable. I live in the top apartment, and three friends rent the bottom. I've been keeping up on home improvement for the last few months; roof leaks, broken toilets, etc., have kept me busy when I'm home, but it's worth it.

I've walked around the home dozens of times since moving here--it's been a year--and never really noticed the window on the NW side of the home. I noticed it this time, noted it was frosted over and thought: "That's strange.."

It is strange. There isn't a window in the inside of the NW wall in the front room.

So, yep. End of story, and start of a confused homeowner...

Cloudy With a Chance of Gecko

Have you ever experienced the profound slowing of time following an unwise decision? It wasn't the view from the drive in, it was a flying reptilian.

Enter me: 6'3", 240 pounds, tough, sledgehammer wielding, all-around-good guy. Pan to the enemy. A six-foot platform made of galvanized steel with a wood deck. The deck is fastened to the steel by way of some weather-weakened screws. It's Guam and the decks are only a hundred yards or so from the beach. Salt water has had it's way with any exposed metal and has turned it into dust.

Well, It's going to take forever to try and remove screws says I; let us pry the boards up. Hmmm. That's going to take a while too... Ok, 15 pound sledgehammer time...

It was going so well; just a swing under the boards would sent them flying six feet into the air. That is until the hammer hit a 12-foot board half eaten by termites. Dozens of geckos and a few thousand small termites flying through the air in a graceful slow-motion toward my face, neck and exposed skin, and a strange wiggle-dance later. The score was local natives-1, tough guy-0.

Oh well, at least my 14-foot coconut-stick worked; soft coconut topped off with a full glass of chilled tangy-sweet coconut water... so good.






P.S. The photo at the top is the road out to the range-which is the large light-green cleared area.

and... for your viewing pleasure... I present the offending platform(s)

Mighty Change of Heart

Isn't it strange, that all of the sudden people everywhere are deciding to overthrow the oppressive dictators and show just how insane/crazy/silly/goofy these dictators can be?

I was thinking about a funny spin to put on this, but there isn't one that could be made in good taste.

People in liberated cities are smiling and hugging in the streets.

Maybe it's time to really make sure those lamps are full my friends...

Things happen fast.

Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy

I was driving through Wisconsin today-through an intense snowstorm-and I thought: "Wow, here I sit comfortable, warm, and driving a 4000+ pound piece of comfort and luxury through the sub-freezing hell of snow and ice... at 65 miles an hour."

Then just to be sure I was truly grateful, I slid the window down by pressing the button for a moment-letting off of it to make full-use of the auto-down feature. My hand found it's way outside and into the blast of freezing wind where it quickly became numb from the cold and ice...

What is it that causes some people to feel so gosh-darn entitled? I remember sitting on a flight next to an inebriated fellow who just couldn't seem to understand why I didn't understand just how much he hated 'this _____ flight.' I suppose alcohol can help a person forget how they just said the same thing five minutes ago, so I let it slide, but I could barely suppress a laugh at his freak-out stereotype. You know... the kind who panic in the crisis/disaster/plane crash movie and get people maimed before being sucked into a jet engine or eaten by a giant snake.

I wonder what Lewis CK would say to him:



...I pulled my hand back inside the Jeep Grand Cherokee, pulled up on the power-window-only for a second because that's all it takes before the auto-up feature takes over-and looked over at start button where there's usually a key-hole. (This particular jeep has no need for a key as it senses the key's proximity and automatically unlocks the doors and lets a person start the engine with the push of a button.)

I smiled to myself and laughed at a memory triggered by the blizzard going on all around me.

Dear steadfast devotees of the School of the Thankful,

Let us remember just how wonderful life is, and just how pleasant indoor water closets really are!

The Debatables

So, there I was, sitting on a flight from Salt Lake to Detroit. A gentleman next to me started a conversation about flights, family, and other things that eventually turned to the topic of religion. Turns out, the man was originally from Salt Lake; he was chock full of stories about his missionary parents, his family history, etc. but told me; as he took as sip from his gin & tonic, that he was a firm unbeliever in the church.

I'm not a hostile type of person, whether in discussion or good-old-fashioned arguments; a person can learn a lot more with understanding and a listening ear. So, despite my wickedly deep-seated and voluntarily-repressed competitive streak, I just listened and interjected only when the unspoken cues permitted.

It conversation went on for a few minutes, and his points were slowly and kindly whittled away by his own sense of reasoning until he started to realize what he was doing to himself. He was kind about it, but simply said "I'm done talking now."

I helped myself to the magazine he'd offered earlier, and thought about so many other conversations and opportunities I've had to talk about the same subject. I've often wondered what has come of some of the people I've spoken with.

...and I thought of this:



Just a related thought. Humans have bred dogs for thousands of years, and there's a fantastic variety in breeds, but in the end they are all the same species. They all share the same genes, and can all-size variables aside-interbreed with one another. What does it all mean!?

Ha... Ha... Ha...

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Close Encounters of the 3D Kind

I watched another 3D movie on Thanksgiving. Yes, I'm one of 'those' people; the kind that go to the cinema and force the poor unwitting masses of working teens to spend an unhealthy portion of their day off working for the man in the suit.

All that aside I've decided to take a stand, or a side, and that side is:

I like 3D movies.

There, I said it. I'm one of 'those' people too.

Avatar in 3D? Yes.
UP in 3D? Naturally.
Tangled? of course! (Please add that one to my favorites.)

The technology is so much better these days, and it's has come to the point where it adds to the experience. The last movie had details I'd never have noticed without those oh-so-stylish lenses tacked to my face.

Now, I look forward to a time when all of us who enjoy 3D films will live a life free of ridicule. I look forward to a time when everyone will learn to appreciate the fine level of detail revealed in them.I look forward when the people of the 2D world will embrace the happiness that can be.

Thank you.

First Class for First Class

As mentioned before, air travel can become something of a chore without some kind of perk to make it worthwhile. Complementary upgrades, warm meals, mixed ratios of genuine smiles and forced grimaces... It's all in a weeks travels.

There is one thing I could do without however. As happy as I am that there hasn't been smoking on any domestic flight since 2000 (a smoking section in an airplane or restaurant is like a peeing section in the pool,) one problem remains. Alcohol; especially free alcohol.

Stuffing my frame into a coach class seat can be well worth not sitting next to the mind-numbing, gag-inducing stench of the upper-class alcoholic taking advantage of the cabin class amenities.

I still care about their well being. They're just as troubled as any of us, they just had the misfortune of finding solace in a substance...

A Whole Lotta Twilight Aping, Movie Mimicking Muck

There are a great deal of folks out there who don't believe their television watching, movie loving ways are doing any harm. I suppose if you watched only the best, it might be a good thing...

"Now wait a second!" you may be thinking. "You love movies!" "And wait, aren't you just finding things wrong with that simpleton you almost married?"

Well, not really. I just find human relationship studies fascinating. I kind of loved this bit of fun on the topic of language style matching.

"When two people start a conversation, they usually begin talking alike within a matter of seconds..." "This also happens when people read a book or watch a movie. As soon as the credits roll, they find themselves talking like the author or the central characters."

James Pennebaker, University of Texas, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology

It's always nice to have a little reminder to watch what I watch...

Embrace This Day With An Enthusiastic Welcome

I don't write so personal thoughts very often; at least without some kind of cryptic shroud, but there are so many times in life when people around me show me - usually unintentionally - why we are really here.

My life is so full of blessings, opportunities, friends, family and other things that make every moment worthwhile. There are so many things in this life for which to be grateful.

So often, there isn't anything I want more than to understand every person I know. I want to see the world as they do. Trying to do this has always led to the finest opportunities and has always taught me to love each person for the elements of good in them, despite the bad in them.

What Women Want

So, what's the answer?

Guess you'll just have to find out; Besides, I wouldn't deprive you of the thrill of finding out for yourself.

Of course, you can take this fella's advice.



p.s. I don't really have the answers... Believing that would be arrogance.

Yet you are alone... so very alone...

It seems that normally, about this time of year, I'd be just getting back into the swing of things at school. I'd be getting to know my new cellists, tenors, and other musicians.

So much new exciting activity, and now...

It's a little bland. And I'm having some symptoms of withdrawal.

Little spots, fevers, blisters, dry mouth...

So I'm lying about the spots.

And the fever, and.. ok all of it.

I play and sing a little here and there with friends, but it's isn't quite cutting it. Maybe when I'm sucked all the way back into music, this will be the year I think of as the time "I was just finding myself."

It's off to Chicago on Tuesday. Some of the finest people I know live there, and so, life as a homeless bum will go on.

At least I'm not this alone...

Non Sequitur

I was thinking of a great teacher, friend, aunt, and single woman. She's in her late forties now, and she seems to be quite happy with her life.

It's no secret that women are better at living alone than men. I don't think I could do it; there was a time when yes, I could be out in the world for weeks, months, even years with little personal human contact, and be just fine. I was there and I remember it, but now I cannot even comprehend it.

I blame Rebbecca... I suppose I have to grudgingly thank her for showing me how wonderful companionship was, and how much I really did need other people.

I also wonder how much a close family helps stave off the loneliness, sadness and generally psychopathic tendencies that develop in aged non-marrieds. (That is, of course, if one were to take the Utah Valley version of coercion a certain way...)

The question of the day is:

Do these people like Sherri Dew, my beloved teacher, and several close neighbors actually enjoy true day-to-day happiness? Or have they simply put on a front for so long they actually believe it?

That said...

Eric Whitacre's choral literature; specifically "Sleep" and "Water Night," are two of the most exquisitely crafted and perfect musical works in the world. They are truly works of unearthly beauty and imagination as Jack Robinson so beautifully worded.

I believe in the faith that grows
And the four right chords can make me cry
When I'm with you I feel like I could die
And that would be all right, all right

Yep, every time I hear those sung lines, I think of this, the most perfect rendition ever performed.



I mean no offense to the BYU Singers, but the flowing, lilting, perfectly blending group shown above will beat out mechanical kids playing at ensemble performance any day. :-)

Cracked and Crumbling Foundations

Disclaimer: I am not perfect, or even a great specimen of my species. I make no such claims. I am sure there are quite a few people in the world who do not jive with my chemistry. I'm sure there are countless folks who just don't think I'm an attractive person. I'm even willing to bet there are a few people out there who just can't stand the way I speak.

That said...

I would like to start a new trend. Yes friends, this is the "Pumice Is Your Friend" campaign.

Steve Harvey, when asked what men want in women, said:

"Well, one thing is: your feet can't look like mine!"

Double standard? Absolutely.

Here's the rub: Women are generally stuck in the unfortunate position of being a part of the sex with the majority of members on this little blue marble. I'm fairly certain that if there were only one woman for every three men on this planet, each man would take better hygienic care of himself. On a side note, He'd probably develop character improvements sooner and learn to communicate better with other men.

But since self-motivation is the only kind of motivation we're going to get here, let me suggest something.

I propose that each of us start with our foundations. That's right men... Look down at those dogs.

Do you suffer from Tree Man feet?

Is your personality the only thing keeping your dear girl from losing her lunch when she looks down at your calloused, mistreated, and poorly maintained feet?

I have the answer for you!



It may take some flexibility, open mindedness, time, and a few uncomfortable minutes in the personal hygiene section of your local grocery store but I promise you'll never regret it.

You'll notice that sandals will be attractive once again. You'll see a lingering eye instead of an upturned nose. You may even discover improvements in the never-ending battle against gym shoe odor!

Well, without being too blunt, let me say that neglected feet are gross feet. It takes a very special someone to ignore the possibility that those poor abused dogs might find themselves looking like this one day...

It takes a real man to keep those foundations at their top-notch best.

Pay the Price

A friend and I had a discussion about how much it takes to be a "pretty girl." She was telling me how much it costs, how much it time it took, and so much more. I should have guessed; it just never crossed my mind.

I was working in a range today and saw two punks and their "pretty girl" friend. They were having a good time, giving other people a hard time, and hitting everything but the target big time.

I wondered about the girl. I wondered what she looked forward to in life. I wondered what she really thought of the two schmucks in the shooting stalls.

I also wondered how much she spend each month to attract the element she did.

I hope they turn out ok.

As for me, a pretty girl is fine, but I'll be waiting for the beautiful woman who--at least to me--looks her best when she wakes with tousled hair, no make-up and a smile.

Even if she doesn't think it's true.

Memphis Blues

Beale St. Blues; the cure for common evening.

It was too warm for comfort and the smell was intolerable. The throngs of bikers in the street were loud, brash, and caustic. The same 12 bars emanating from every club, bar and BBQ joint were good, but oh so similar.

But I liked it. Part of me just wanted to be a part of the crowd. The mob mentality sucked me in for a few minutes of peer pressured bliss.

I'm leaving Boston now. There was some work to be done here:



On a side note... Harvard campus is decidedly overrated. Dinghy, and with a smell similar to Beale St. It seems to be the summer haven for young punks who possess a great deal of potential intelligence, a great lack of moral and emotional maturity, and far too much funding available to them. I suppose the same situation can exist everywhere.

Wow! How negative! Perhaps the fact that my throat is so sore I can barely eat is tainting my mood. I think I'll try again later...

Family is as Family Does

Was in Napa once again, only this time I don't have a car, hotel, or company funds at my disposal. It's just me, my wits, my guts, and oh yeah... My extended family.

Whenever I discover some personal quirk and revel in my uniqueness, I have only to visit my family to discover the true source. It's an enlightening experience and usually just a little bit Twilight. That's Twilight Zone for you young folks.

On to Beyond

I lost another friend last week.

He was an institute teacher and an author. He was an excellent man, a wonderful father and caring husband. I'll miss him a great deal.

I needed visit him again; I wanted to ask him some questions and talk to him for a while.

It seems that I never seem to be able to take the time I need to visit these friends. I'm always to busy it seems; there's so much for me to do - for me.

And so there are regrets. Too many what-ifs and should-haves to count, and the lesson has yet to be learned.

I really should just say what I really feel like saying. Perhaps less stress would be the result.

That's it... I'll just say what I want to say to the girl, the father, the mother, the friend, the girl who wants to be the girl, the brother, the teacher, the biggest heartbreak, and the sloth...