Show Some Gratitude

The other day, I was asked out on a date.

By a 16-year-old girl.

Usually, my response would be, "No."

However, this was an invitation to the "Gratitude Dinner" the Young Women from the ward were doing.  Each young woman was supposed to invite someone they were grateful for - grateful for influence, help, etc.

I will tell you that I did not cry.  As long as your definition of not crying is "barely keeping in tears with every ounce of energy down to the sub-cellular level of my being."

The truth is I was very touched.  Besides, Nicki had already been invited, so I was going to be hungry that night if I couldn't find some food somewhere.

And of course, I deserved it.  I have done so much for this young lady.  If not for me, she wouldn't be who she is today.

She would probably be even a better person, actually.  Although, I have been able to help her on strategies for enjoying Disneyland to the highest capacity.

But really, I have known her for 14 of her 16 years.  My family has been with her family through some really tough trials - as well as some really great times.

And most recently, I have been her Seminary teacher.  Every morning at 6:00.  6 AM.  In the morning.  And to think, they actually have the nerve to call it "Early-morning Seminary."

Anyway, the dinner was last night - a baked potato bar.  Oh...yes!  Bring on the melty nacho cheese and the bacon and chili.  It doesn't matter that the chili and cheese were likely left over from the ward Trunk-or-Treat a week ago.  Freezers are great just for occasions like this.  I most certainly would not have done that well had I been left to provide my own sustenance.

During the evening, each young women was to stand with their guest and explain why she invited that person.  And naturally, during that introduction, I did not cry.  I most definitely did not cry.  As long as your definition of not crying has been loosened a little from above to now be "coming within a microsecond of completely breaking down and bawling like a tiny little baby."

Thank you, Mags.

I Am a Ranting Boob

Editors note: I wrote this originally a couple of years ago.  I decided not to publish it back then.  However, in light of my family's recent experience with cancer, I am publishing it now.  So there.

What is it about teenagers today that causes them to completely ignore anything their parents say?

I know I wasn't like that when I was a teenager. I was a very humble, compliant young man. I listened to and heeded all the advice of my wise, loving, parents on account of their vast wealth of knowledge and experience. (Come on, Mom, back me up here!)

I am very much opposed to cancer. All kinds of cancer - including, of course, breast cancer. I, like most people, have known women who have had breast cancer. Some have died. Some have survived.

I want someone to find a cure. I want people to be aware of the issue and support the find for a cure. I want people to wear pink ribbons and pink t-shirts and run in marathons and 5ks to help raise the awareness, as well as funds that supports research of a cure for breast cancer.

I am NOT a fan of bracelets and bumper stickers and shirts that express a love for "boobies."

Call me what you will. I think it is just a little bit...well, stupid. How is using a slang term for a female anatomy going to raise cancer awareness? It raises awareness, sure..of the sexualization of said anatomy.

Don't get me wrong. I don't disagree with the sentiment the bracelet is conveying. But, I don't think that is the way to express my love and appreciation for them.  Nor do I believe it raises appropriate awareness of cancer.

If that is the case, then I would like to start a bracelet and t-shirt campaign raising awareness for testicular cancer. Can you guess what they are going to say, Richard? Not the same, you say? I beg to differ. It's exactly the same.

Wear the pink ribbon. Run (or walk) in the 5k. Donate when a cousin (or friend) whose mother died of breast cancer asks you - even if it is just $5. But let's all be respectful, please. Speak like an educated adult.

This is all I am trying to teach my 13-year-old daughter. Yet, what was on her wrist when I came home from work yesterday?

French La La La La La La La

The family went out to eat last night in celebration of 3 years together as an eternal family.

The following story did not detract from that celebration.  No, I left that for today.

Nicki and I eat in restaurants occasionally - if your definition of occasionally is more than once a week.

Many times, this is for the benefit of feeding the children, since schedules were such that providing a meal from items within the home was not going to happen.

Other times, my wife and I actually like to get away from the children and have a meal together without having to worry about constantly threatening our children with death if they don't stop jumping on the bench, climbing over (or under) the table, staring at the group in the next booth, or flicking food (or some other substance) at each other.  Most of those times, we end up in default mode - creatures of habit and we just know what we like - and go to Mimi's Cafe.

Usually, there are 5 or 6 entrees and salads that we rotate between.  We are there often enough that the servers know what drinks we are ordering and can make a decent guess as to the food we will order.  Ultimately, I think that's what we all want.  A place to go where everybody knows your name.  And they're always glad you came.

You want to go where you can see the food is always the same!

We sat down to new menus.  I'm not talking about menus without dried and crusty food stuck to the menu.  Or no frayed edges.  (Although, this was also the case.)  There were only 3 items, I think, on the menu that had been on the menu previously.

At least the kids menu was the same - aside from the French word search.

There were items misspelled on the menu, such as "Soupes," "Salade," "Herbes," and "Boeuf."  And then there were words like "Nouveau," "Coq," and "Meuniere."

The server explained that the restaurant was under new corporate ownership and they are striving to "upgrade" (code word for "We want to charge you more for your meal") the menu and be more traditionally French.  Because, after all, look at all of the highly successful national chains with a traditional French menu. There's...um...L'Roi de Hamburger and...uh...Pommeabeilles, ummm...L'Panda Expres, or even...ahhhh...L'Maison International des Crepes.

I think you get my point.

Don't get me wrong.  I love French food.  I really love their toast and their fries.  But I can get that at any American restaurant.  I really don't care to order any other French food, generally speaking.

Mimi's had this kind of New Orleans French Cajun thing going.  I liked it.  I ESPECIALLY loved the Tomato Basil Bisque.  It was the only Tomato Basil Bisque I would eat anywhere.  I liked it more than Lobster Bisque.

Oh, I've tried it at other places, but it leaves so much to be desired compared to Mimi's.  I crave the taste even now.  Forgive me.  But I didn't get it last night.

This item was still on the menu.  Oh, thank heavens.  I will at least have my body and soul warmed by the goodness that is Mimi's Tomato Basil Bisque.

Nope.  It has been upgraded to be just like every other restaurant I have been to.  Yay.  So wonderful.  I want more.  Honestly, if it had been just Nicki and me, we would have left to find someplace else to eat. But, alas, the children were hungry and we needed to feed them at that moment.

Nicki's favorite dish was no longer on the menu, so she tried ordering something new.

Our family is not really big on mushrooms.  Apparently, the French are.  Nicki ordered the "Coke Ow Veen." And asked that the mushrooms be withheld from the plate.  The server, who had just told our daughter they could not remove the mushrooms from her Chicken Pot Pie (very French), because they come premade - in an upgraded manner, said that would be fine.

Aaaand then he came back while I was eating my Tomato Basil Bisque from Cafe Zupas to tell her that the entree comes premade and the mushrooms cannot be removed.

Wow.  Way to upgrade the menu Mimi's.  To an all premade, prepackaged, frozen meal shipped from a Costco in France.

Good Grief

Grief.  I suppose it can be good.  It certainly doesn't help us a lot if it isn't, that's for sure.  If it's not good, I can definitely tell you it is funny.  Not funny, "Ha Ha," although that is how I often deal with the grief when it comes.  More of a funny, "That's interesting or odd" way.

See, just now I almost spelled odd "ood."  That's funny, "Ha Ha."  I am now picturing myself carrying around a glowing ball through tentacles hanging from my face.

Anyway, there's a phone call I used to make.

In the three previous years, it's been a commiseration call. Other years, the call is celebratory in nature. Sadly, it was to be another commiseration call.  I was realizing this morning that I don't get to make that phone call this year, or ever again in the future. And I suddenly realized I am going to miss that call.

I owe the connection I have to BYU football to my Dad. Make no mistake, my Mom is a fan, too. But, as a boy, I always looked to my Dad when it came to sports - particularly BYU sports. This was passed on to him from his Dad - in large part by legend, since his Dad died when he was eight years old.

I will miss the BYU-Utah game FAR less than I will miss calling my Dad afterwards, whether that night or the next day.  Then I realized that there will be other things that will come up in the next while where I will suddenly notice a hole in my life. Some I might be able to predict, others I will not.

For example, two weeks ago, when I went to the BYU-Texas game, I went down to visit with my family, like I do at every game. I knew my Dad wasn't going to be there, of course. However, when I looked across my brothers, nieces, nephews, and Mom, it was all I could do to not break out crying. My Dad wasn't there. (At least, not that I could see. He's a big enough fan that, I suppose if he was able to arrange it, he was there.)

Here's another example. The week after we got back from Provo and my Dad's funeral, I called my Mom every day. One day, I was in my car, using my Bluetooth to make the call. I suddenly realized the number was stored in my car as, "Mom and Dad Avery."

Moments like these strike when I am not really ready for it.  Hey, my relationship with my Dad wasn't perfect, but he is my Dad.

Evolution of an Obituary

Does anyone look forward to writing an obituary?  I'm not talking about imagining one for your worst enemy from High School.  Maybe you didn't even do that, I mean, neither did I.

No, I am talking about an obituary for someone you love.  Say, your Dad.

My Dad had not passed away yet, but I needed to do something besides just waiting around.  And not just sitting downstairs and playing the Wii with my brothers - or nieces and nephews so I could actually win.  Something productive.

I started by going to purchase burial plots - yes plural - at the Orem Cemetery. Probably best to reserve the space for my Mom next to my Dad, we figured.  The employee asked me, "Are these for a funeral?"  Using my best Bill Engvall impression, I looked at him, cocked my head and said, "Nope.  I'm a pirate and I'm looking for a good place to hide my treasure.  Perhaps you have a cross-shaped headstone I can turn 45 degrees and use to mark it?"

One of his very next questions was, "Has your father passed?"  I had anticipated this one and was ready with, "Well, he's not quite dead, yet."  Okay, so I got that finished and I went back to my parents' house to start writing the obituary.  I wanted to get something for my Mom and brothers to use as a baseline from which to expand.

As I started, I realized that there were lots of details that I didn't know and that sort of lent to the tone of the original draft.  Here it is:

John LeGrande Avery died at his home in Provo on Some Future Date, 2013 after an eight month battle with brain cancer.

John was born in Provo on October 7, 1942 to Floyd and Sadie Avery. He is survived by his wife Pamela Cardon Avery and his eight sons, Matt (Nicki), Brian (Chris), Danny (Staci), Peter, Andy (Sarah), Wes (Melissa), David (Jannet) and Alex – most of whom are married with 22 kids between them. Matt has the most, so that makes him the best.

John, or LeGrande, or Bud – depending on which circle of friends he was in – served faithfully in Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints his entire life in a variety of callings, most recently as an Executive Secretary in a Young Single Adult Stake where Tom Holmoe serves as a counselor in the presidency. However, the majority of his life was spent in service of young men in a multitude of Boy Scout leadership positions. On some date a while back, he received the Silver Beaver Award, one of the BSA’s highest awards.

A viewing will be held on Friday, Some Future Date, from 6pm to 8pm at Lindon Mortuary E, S, in Lindon, UT. Funeral services will be held on Saturday, Some Future Date at 11 am at the Edgemont 6th Ward Chapel (the “Red Brick” building – or the 4th ward’s chapel, for those of you in the 4th ward) at 4000 N. 650 East, Provo, Utah. His body will be buried in the Orem Cemetery.

I found some details that I didn't have when I just jotted the original draft:

John LeGrande Avery died at his home in Provo on Some Future Date, 2013 after an eight month battle with brain cancer.

John was born in Provo on October 7, 1942 to Floyd and Sadie Avery.  He is survived by his wife Pamela Cardon Avery and his eight sons, Matt (Nicki), Brian (Chris), Danny (Staci), Peter, Andy (Sarah), Wes (Melissa), David (Jannet) and Alex and 22 grandchildren.

John, or LeGrande, or Bud – depending on which circle of friends he was in – served faithfully in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints his entire life in a variety of callings, most recently as an Executive Secretary in the Spanish Fork Young Single Adult Stake.  However, the majority of his life was spent in service of young men in a multitude of Boy Scout leadership positions.  On September 11, 2004, he received the Silver Beaver Award, one of the BSA’s highest awards.

A viewing will be held on Friday, Some Future Date, from 6pm to 8pm at Olpin Family Mortuary 494 S. 300 East in Pleasant Grove, Utah.  Funeral services will be held on Saturday, Some Future Date at 11 am at the Edgemont 6^th Ward Chapel (the “Red Brick” building – provided the 4^th Ward does not revoke its permission to use their building) at 4056 N. 650 East, Provo, Utah.  Internment services will be at the Orem Cemetery.

That night, another detail crucial for an obituary became known.  At this point, there was a lot more participation in the edit process, thankfully.  But, you will definitely note some influence from Avery V who graduated from PA School at the School up North.

John LeGrande Avery died at his home in Provo on August 10, 2013, after an eight month battle with brain cancer.

John was born in Provo on October 7, 1942 to Floyd and Sadie Avery.  He is survived by his wife Pamela Cardon Avery, his eight sons and six daughters-in-law – Matt & Nicki, Brian & Chris, Danny & Staci, Peter, Andy & Sarah, Wes & Melissa, David & Jannet and Alex – and 22 grandchildren. He is also survived by sisters Ara and Sue, and brothers Barry and Con.  He was preceded in death by one sister, Dena Joyce, and one brother, Chad.

John, LeGrande or Bud served two years as a missionary in New Zealand and continued to serve faithfully in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints his entire life in a variety of callings, most recently as an Executive Secretary in the Spanish Fork Young Single Adult Stake.  He influenced countless young men as a Boy Scout leader, helping many of them achieve the rank of Eagle - including his eight sons. He was given the Silver Beaver Award, one of the BSA’s highest honors. He loved making itineraries and lists and repacking cargo space prior to and during any outing involving a vehicle. He had a love-hate relationship with long road trips. Driving fast was his specialty.

Dad spent a career in Computer Engineering, but preferred to spend his time in the outdoors hiking, fishing, camping, skiing, backpacking and bicycling.  He was skiing when symptoms of the cancer were first noticed. He was also an avid BYU fan and held season football tickets for decades, but it should be noted that the last football stadium he entered was Rice-Eccles, home of the Runnin’ Utes.

He received wonderful care and attention from the staff of Horizon Home Health and Hospice for several months. Prior to that, he had great care from Drs. Reichman, Clark and Rich.  Thank you so very much.

A viewing will be held on Thursday, August 15, from 6pm to 7:30pm at the LDS Chapel at 4056 North 650 East, Provo, Utah, happily bumping any ball bouncing in the gym.  Funeral services will be held on Friday, August 16 at 11 am at the same chapel (the “Red Brick” building – provided the 4^th Ward does not revoke its permission to use their building) with a viewing from 10:00am to 10:45am.  Internment services will be at the Orem Cemetery.

In reality, there were many edits and much discussion that went into this version.  There were ideas and input that I am not including here.  (To summarize, when you get more than one Avery brother together in a room, reverence is short-lived.  It's not that we don't know how to be reverent.  It was taught to us by our parents - drilled even; sometimes literally.)  Yes, we had moments of raucous laughter followed by silence that was only interrupted by sniffling and stifled crying - then soon followed by more laughter and stories.

It's been quite an emotional 3 days, so far.

One last thing: I heard your question.  I did.  "What's with the 4th Ward?"  I am glad you asked.  This is really an inside joke that likely only members of the 6th and 16th Wards can fully appreciate.  "Three wards in one building, one ward to rule them all."  You will see that the reference was removed for the final version.  We couldn't bring ourselves to be THAT irreverent.  You can read the final version here.

So very weird to expect to see my Dad here at my parents' home and talk to him, but he's not here.  I love my Dad.  And I miss him.