A Most Remarkable Daughter

 

Thirty three year ago Sheila gave birth to most amazing child.   Her birth really began on April 1, 1982.  I told Sheila, "You just cross those legs; ain't none of our kids going to be born on April 1st!  They'll be pranked for everyone of their birthdays. So just shut her down girlfriend!"  Seriously, could you imagine that! I don't know if the leg crossing technique worked, but in the end Chelsea Jan was born early in the morning on April 2, 1982.

It was a snowy Spring day in Salt Lake City the day she was born.  Despite the weather, my heart and soul were warmed by the thought of such a beautiful child.  And every day since April 2, 1982, my heart and soul have continued to be warmed by the simple fact that she is part of our family.  For thirty three years she has given us nothing but joy.  And while that might sound like hyperbole, it's absolutely true.

Chelsea has always lived her life with confidence and courage.  She has accomplished much and continues to inspire me to be better, and do more.  Two things in particular illustrate her greatness.  First, as a high school senior she made a decision to raise money for Dollars for Scholars.  This was before Senior Projects were required.  Chelsea did it because she is a do-gooder.  Now-a-days, every high school senior is required to do a senior project.  And as we have seen, many of these projects are lame and mostly self-serving.  In contrast, her project was ambitious, substantive and wildly successful.  She ended up raising over $11,000 for her charity.  Not bad for a high school senior who received virtually no assistance from her parents in pulling this off.  Second, was when she left for graduate school in London.  If she was nervous, or had doubts, it never showed.  She has always exhibited a determination and grit that has made me proud. She lived and thrived in a foreign country (Chile) as a missionary of course, but that's different--as a missionary, you are watched over by a mission president.  When we visited her in London on several occasions, it was obvious that she was capable of handling her affairs sans guidance or assistance from her parents.  I have never been prouder of Chelsea than when we attended her graduation from the University of London. 

I know that I have been far less of a parent than what she deserves, but I am grateful for the times we have shared: hiking, backpacking, skiing, and just chilling.  While there is nothing remarkable about a thirty-third birthday, there is something extraordinarily remarkable about this young daughter of mine!  So Happy Birthday Chelsea!

"I Gotta Get Me One of Those!"

The She-wolf and I were watching a movie the other night which included a very sexy scene of some star-struck lovers dancing.  I commented, "Why don't we dance more?  I'm really good, you know."  Silence.  I continued, "All bet if we had the right sound system, we might dance more." More silence.  I'm pretty sure that a person like me who truly loves to dance is held back primarily by the lack of opportunity.  I reasoned, "If we had a really cool sound system, you know, something like the DJs used that MC'd at Keith's Hero-Up for Children's Cancer race in Portland, I bet you and I would be dancing all of the time."  As I thought more about the serious equipment they used, I could almost feel my heart thumping, and I knew right then, "Whoa, I gotta get me one of those!"--referring to their sound system.  I suggested to the Shewolf that I absolutely needed such a system.  As one might suspect, she then proceeded to lecture me a bit on needs vs. wants.  Our conversation went something like this:

     "What would you do with a system like that?"
     "I would invite my friends over and we would rock out?"
     "I can't see any of your friends wanting to come over for a dance party with you.  Frankly, it seems like a stupid idea."
     "Are you saying my friends are boring?"
     "No, I just can't see it happening."
     "Well with a system like that, maybe I'll get new friends."
     " Yeah, you do that Big Guy."

I love my wife to pieces, but honestly, sometimes she totally lacks vision.  And as readers of Darrell's Yakimania all know, vision is what makes me who I am.  I'm pricing out systems right now because of this vision.  I don't really see myself totally abandoning all of my old friends, of course, but I have to admit that some new friends who would totally appreciate my new rocking sound system is intriguing.   While there have been some notoriously bad decisions in my life that have started with "I gotta get me one of those," I'm absolutely certain that getting a big sound system to create more opportunities to dance with my wife is not one of those.

The photo above is me relishing the sound system used at Keith's Hero-Up for Children's Cancer race.

The Unauthorized Version

I was working out this year's schedule and trying to figure out how to squeeze in the 2015 NCAA wrestling tournament in St. Louis.  In doing so, I reminisced about  last year's tournament in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma that Shea and I attended.  The wrestling, as expected, was nothing less than spectacular, and was matched only by the food and the most excellent wrestling stories we shared.  I have been known to exaggerate a story or two, particularly if it involves wrestling.  This fact is generally known by my close friends, primarily because they are often the subject of these stories.  At a tournament a few years ago a close friend bought me a T-shirt that pretty much sums it up:  "Genuine Antique Wrestler--the older I get, the better I was."  Yep that hits pretty close to home. 

The truth is that every one's version of a particular event is interpreted, remembered and influenced by their personal biases and perspectives.  Case in point: at last year's NCAA tournament I was telling a particularly interesting story about my brother Jeff and my experience while wrestling in Rock Springs, Wyoming circa 1978.  It's a pretty funny story that I have told and retold over the years.  I tell this story in dramatic fashion, and in a manner that always seems to entertain my audience.  On this particular occasion, I was nearing the end of this story and one of my brother's wrestlers interrupted, "Hey, wait a minute! I've heard this story, only the facts were quite a bit different."  I was really put out; this punk kid was ruining my story by interrupting at a most critical juncture.  I demanded to know,  "Did you hear this story from my brother, Jeff?"  "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I heard it from him."  He replied.  Dang that brother of my mine!  I fumed.  As the older brother doesn't he know that I have first rights to all sibling stories?   What was even more disturbing is that he told this story in such an unauthorized manner.  

As a story teller, it's not so much facts that I am concerned with, rather, the it's the truth that demands my attention.  Even so, altering trivial facts in a story that you know your older sibling repeatedly includes in his repertoire is entirely out-of-bounds.  To be sure, Jeff and I had words over his unauthorized version of my story, even though the story is primarily about him.   In the end, I don't expect things to really change that much.   He has a good story, while I have a great story.  Yes, the facts are different, but the truth is the same. As long as we don't cross contaminant each other's audiences, things should be just fine, even though the wrestling story he tells is clearly the unauthorized version of a most remarkable story.  

Two former WV wrestlers: Lil Brute Lane Bruland and Shea "the Assassin" Smart



Would You Deny a Dying Man His Final Wish?!

I recently blogged that "I am dying."  The Shewolf chalked this declaration  up to mere hyperbole, which she claims she has come to expect from me.  In truth, we are all dying, but recently, I have experienced an acute awareness of my mortality.  I think it started with a recent review of Darrell's Big List, which is essentially my Bucket List.  I have been struggling to find the time to accomplish much of what's on Darrell's Big List and my life is flying by with such alacrity, that it's difficult to envision completion of everything on my list before I die.  In short, as a 57 years old I am simply running out of time to accomplish my goals, both serious and frivolous.

So I decided it's time for a course correction.  I placed on my calendar for 2015 some spectacular events, including climbing in South America and a Brazilian Jujitsu tournament in Europe.  Either I'm in, or I'm out. I choose to be in.  When I went home and reviewed my plans for 2015 with my wife, she was skeptical about my plans and gently suggested that I reconsider these newly scheduled adventures and tamp down my ambitions. "Are you crazy?!  You are going to kill yourself, and trust me when I say, I have no interest in being left as a premature widow." My response, of course was as equally tempered, "Would you deny a dying man a few final wishes?!"

Just Say "Yes!"

 Mountain biking at Deer Valley, summer of 2014

Climbing Lone Peak with Shea, Brent and my nephews, summer of 2014.

In 1980, as part of the war on drugs, Nancy Reagan coined the phrase, "Just say No!"  She went around the country and encouraged young kids to "Just say No!" when confronted with opportunities to use drugs.  This phrase has stuck in the American consciousness.  I hate it. Let me explain...

I am dying and life is passing me by.  Well, actually, we are all dying.  Life is short and I have the sense that life is going by with such speed that I can't keep pace.  There have been times in my past where I have said "no" when offered a chance to do something fun.  Sometimes I have had good reasons for saying "no."  On other occasions I have said "no" in ways that were tantamount to "a lame excuse."  One case in particular that comes to mind is when my brothers all ran the treacherous Colorado river and I declined their invitation to join them.  I was concerned about finances and decided to sit that one out.  What a moron!  I stayed home and ended up missing out on one of the most memorable brother trips ever. Was the money I saved worth missing out on this trip?  When we die, what will we show for our efforts?  Is sitting one out for financial reasons really a good choice when one considers the brevity of life and the fleeting nature of mortality?

Most recently, I passed on an opportunity to climb the East Buttress of Mt. Whitney with my nephews, primarily because I didn't feel that my physical shape was what it needed to be to successfully hang with them.  Being overweight by 20 lbs caused me to doubt my ability to successfully complete this climb.  And so, in the end I said, "no."

Never again! My faith teaches me that we fought for the right to be here. We fought in a great war just for the opportunity to participate in the gift of mortality.  If we truly care about this life and the stewardship and opportunities that this life presents, we should make every day, every hour and even every minute count for something.   In short, I don't ever want to say "no" again.  Particularly, if it has anything to do with weight, fitness or money.  So when someone asks me:

           "Are you sure about that, it sounds a little sketchy?"
           My response, "Yes!".

          "Man that's crazy!  Are you really in?"
          "Yes!"

          "It's going to be epic, but really painful. Are you coming?"
          "Yes!"

Forget Nancy Reagan!  Going forward, I intend to put myself in a position to always be able to say "yes."  And when given the chance, I hope to always find the courage to say "yes."  I have lost 10 lbs and am working hard to get into the kind of shape that will allow me to enthusiastically respond with "Yes!" at every opportunity.  So, if you have something epic in the offing, please count me in and know that henceforth my answer to every big challenge will be a resounding, "Yes!"

There's Way too much Estrogen in my Life!

 

We all have secrets--some of which can cause deep embarrassment.  One of my mildly embarrassing secrets is that I enjoy unwinding in the evening in front of the television with my wife. It's not so much that I hate to admit watching the boob-tube--I mean, doesn't every man enjoy unwinding in the evening snuggling with their best girl, curled up on the couch under a soft fleece blanket enjoying the warm fire and drinking some hot spicy and fruity herbal tea while watching something relaxing?  Whoa! Now that sounded so feminine that the loyal readership that is Darrell's Yakimania might start to wonder if I have acquired a cat! 

It's not so much that I watch television while snuggling with my wife under a fleece blanket that's cause for concern; rather, it's what we have been watching.  It all started with Downton Abbey.  We were planning a second trip to London to visit Chelsea when I became aware of this series. I know its viewership is largely female, but what the heck, we were considering a side trip to actually tour Highclere Castle (the real Downton Abbey), so what harm is there in watching a few episodes?   Thus, it all began rather innocently. Step by step, inch by inch I found myself sucked into the very feminine media world that is dominated by Lifetime, Oxygen and PBS.  Last Sunday, we had quite enjoyed another episode of Call the Midwife, and I realized, I need help--there's way too much estrogen in my life at the moment!  I used to watch very manly and inane programs like Lizard Lick Towing, anything on ESPN and The Vikings.

So I told the She-Wolf, I have to start regulating what I watch.  With each Call the Midwife episode, I can almost feel my bi-ceps shrinking.  In truth, I am losing the essence of my manliness by what I am watching on television.  So, we (and by this I mean me) resolved that for every hour of high-feminine-programming that we watch, I will watch at least an hour of something uber manly--you know something like reruns of Combat, anything with Arnold Schwarzenegger or the Ultimate Fighter.   So, if you happen to be cruising through the recorded queue of programs on my remote, and see that someone has recorded Dance Moms, puuleeeeease for the sake of my pride assume this is something the She-wolf is watching.



The Worst Month of My Life

I normally love the month of February.  It starts with Valentine's Day, which for a romantic like me,  is a really big deal.  To be sure, Valentine's Day is the beginning of my birthday celebration.  The celebration begins with some romantic time with the She-wolf and culminates with my family lavishly adoring me 10 days later on my actual birthday.  What's not to like about this month?

Well, this year everything was ruined by my mother's foray to Thailand to visit my nephew, Rocky.  She is remarkable for her age (she will turn 84 this year).  While in Thailand pictures of her began to surface on the internet with the caption "Remarkable 84 year old woman rides an elephant, and tames a tiger."  Or was it "Tames an elephant and rides a tiger?"  Or does it really even matter?  My friends, began asking, "Dude, I saw your mom taming a tiger?  She's amazing!"  or "Smart I saw your mom in Thailand,  I think she was riding a shark?  It's sad you don't have what it takes to keep up with your mother."

Yes, I normally look forward to my birthday.  During my birthday celebration, one of my kids typically asks to me to regale the family with a story from one of my excellent adventures.  Instead, this year I'm probably going to hear: "Dad, what do you think Grandma Smart is doing today?  Maybe we should call her and see what amazing things she's been up to recently."  The anxiety in me has been building to such an extent that I'm not even sure I want to publicly celebrate my birthday this year. When I can't even compete with an 83 year old woman, especially when this woman is my mother, life is definitely on a downward slide.  I think I'll just postpone my birthday celebration to a time when my mother is back in Salt Lake and busily engaged in more appropriate geriatric activities such as temple work, genealogy and meetings with the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers.