09 December 2008

Inventing Problems or How America is Losing its Mind.

Joseph in a tree in Moscow with his toy muzzleloader.

Clark Myers sent me an email today. Perhaps I forwarded it to some of you. It was a new story about a boy of 10 who had been arrested and arraigned on charges of terrorism for bringing a $5.96 toy revolver to school in his pocket. He didn't threated anyone with it (How could he? It's a toy!) He didn't even pull it out of his pocket; another kid did.



The boy who owned the little thing liked it because it looked somewhat like the single-action revolvers of the Civil War period which had been his class's subject of history study for some days. I suspect it looked more like an 1873 Colt cartridge revolver than an 1860 Colt Army which loaded with loose powder and ball, but he's only ten, after all , and the essential differences might have been lost on him.



I hope the absurdity of this situation is obvious to everyone. If anyone who reads this thinks even for a second that this is the way for adult authority figures to respond to children with toys resembling weapons, then please resign from the human race right now. There has never been a generation in human history in which the children, especially the boys, did not play at what their fathers and older brothers had to do in earnest. It may be seen as sad. It may be seen as being a self-fulfilling prophecy for children to indulge in such play. But it still happens in everyone's childhood to a greater or lesser degree.



If the people who arrest 10 year old boys for carrying toy revolvers and high school girls for leaving a cake knife in her locked car in the parking lot had been in power in Franklin, Tennessee when I was a child there, there wouldn't have been a single male child left at home in the custody of his parents. We played with cars and trucks. We played with electric trains. But the thing we did most often was play at some form of combat. Cops & Robbers. Cowboys & Indians. World War II. With our toy ships and airplanes the combat shifted to a different realm, but it was still a vividly imagined contest in which it was kill or be killed.



In the fifties, most movies were westerns, World War II stories, or crime dramas. Cold War dramas and "creature features" were also seen on the bill. And in every one of them, good guys employed firearms to save good people from bad people or bad creatures. It never occurred to anyone in legislature or in society back then that we should not grow up to own and use firearms, and always as a force for good.



In our little central Tennessee town, the most honor you could have as a little boy was to be "The Grey Ghost" in play. There was a half-hour show on every week in which this Confederate officer would fool and defeat any number of Union soldiers and save the day for noble citizens of Virginia. I was often Colonel Moseby. He really existed, you know. John Singleton Moseby so dominated several Virginia counties that Union forces called them "Moseby's Confederacy." Sometimes I was the Federal leader who fought for Union and against slavery. I knew both sides, because I lived in the south and my mother's people had fought for the North. We felt enobled to play the roles of people on both sides of American conflicts, because we knew that they had played a part - an important part - in the building and shaping of our country.



Years later, when I would read Stephen Vincent Benet's short story The Devil and Daniel Webster to my U.S. History classes, I tried to convey some of that feeling to them. When Jabez Stone is put on trial for his soul in his own kitchen, Mr. Scratch, the Devil, promises a jury of real Americans. And they are, too! Yet every one was seen by regular white settlers as being a villain of the worst stripe. Traitors, murderers, leaders of massacres, and witch-hanging religious zealots filled his jury box, all with the blue fires of hell still upon them. Surely they would do whatever Satan told them to do. But Dan'l Webster didn't complain. He recognized in each of them a person who had made a powerful contribution to the history of his young nation. Good, bad, or indifferent, they were all Americans and had earned a place in her History.



We used to look upon Americans of consequence as being that way. They were people of decisive action. And we wanted them represented that way. That's why John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Gary Cooper, and Charles Bronson were our heroes. For those same reasons, Lee Marvin, Jack Palance, Bruce Dern, and Strother Martin were our favorite bad guys. Jack Elam, too! If you saw his crooked gaze in a western, you knew that you were in for a thrilling confrontation between good and evil. Not an unarmed discussion, but a final, decisive confrontation in which good people risked everything, even their lives, to see to it that their society was not dominated by evil persons.



Evil! Yes! People did not hesitate to call bad things bad. Today we are told to be tolerant of "alternative lifestyles" and "foreign religions." So we tolerate them. And what happens? We are attacked in our own streets and in our own places of business. Thousands die in a single day. If some people lose a free, democratic election, they throw organized tantrums in order to hurt people they don't even know, marring their places of worship and destroying their businesses. and professions.



I have known men who remember carrying bird guns and deer rifles to school with them in the morning, storing them in the "cloak room" at the back of the classroom (remember cloak rooms?) and retrieving them at the end of the day so they could hunt on the way home. It was as common as rain and no one thought anything about it. You know how many
"school shootings" they had back then? Yes, you know. It practically never happened. Good people were armed and expected to be so. Good people were expected to oppose that which was wrong. Today, many are afraid even to "allow" them the means of self-defense, let alone of taking an active hand in the fight against evil in their communities. We are becoming a weak, coddled people who seem to expect the police agencies to do that which the Supreme court has said more than once they are not to be held liable to do, namely to protect our lives.



Well, if they are not to be held responsible to protect us, then who is? The only possible answer is "ourselves."

06 December 2008

A Cry for Help Was Heard In the Land. And it Came From Me!

OK, people. This is serious! I can't rest, I mean really rest, until I get help with this one. Tonight we were minding our business, watching the 2003 Eloise Christmas movie, when a character named Peabody greeted his daughter, home from school in Europe. The daughter was played by someone with a face I knew. I didn't just know it like you know the face of a sales clerk at the store. I knew her face like I know the faces of my own children. It was powerfully familiar to me. I have spent hours now trying to recall where I've seen her before.

I wore out Google's limited usefulness. Those "filmographies" are a joke. They are far from being exhaustive lists of someone's work. But it did help me find her name. Sarah Topham. She has been in a couple of these Eloise movies, but I've never seen one of those until tonight. She's done a lot of stage work in Tennessee Williams stuff like The Glass Menagerie. She's also done Shakespeare on the stage. Merchant of Venice. That sort of thing.

But those are not the places where I've seen her before. I've seen her in something that mattered, I think. There's something about her eyes that makes me feel that the story or stories in which I first saw her must have been riveting, even upsetting. Or maybe it just entertained me a lot. I just can't remember.

And so I cast myself on the mercy and superior memories of the younger readers and former students out there who might know all and tell all concerning the silver screen or the small one. Who is Sarah Topham? What has she been in other than the things I've cited above? Please help me with this. As they used to say in the College Fund commercial, "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." And mine is just about wasted trying to figure out who this lady is and where I've seen her before. Mille grazie!

Recent Events and Developments

Joseph witnesses Jed's dead center hit.











Well, let's see. What's been going on? I'm sure something has been happening, because the time has been passing, and, as John Archibald Wheeler said, "Time is what keeps everything from happening at once."



It has been my pleasure to come into renewed contact with a number of former students recently. Mindy Timothy started reading my humble blog after she learned of it from my excellent daughter, Autumn Marie Mulverhill. (Don't you love that surname, Mulverhill? It sounds like a Hobbit name to me.) Now Mindy's sister Delsa, who took two or three classes from me, is also reading my silly offerings. I was sorry that I didn't remember Delsa until she said a few things by email to help me recall. Getting old is terrible, and I hope I didn't hurt her feelings.


Just today I ran into a fellow named John Bryant at the new CostCo here in the Pocatello area. He looked familiar and asked my name. (No doubt he remembered me as having hair and that being a much darker color.) He said he'd done the "Youth Legislature" thing with me way back when. Poor John was recently divorced and moved here to help open the new store. He's been a CostCo employee for four years, but I think he was in my classes in the early nineties. Not sure.


One of my all-time favorite students was Will Springer, Madison Class of 2002. He took my History classes in the 2000-2001 school year. We became fast friends and often ventilated milk jugs and other threatening paraphernalia with paramilitary hardware of various types and calibers. It was Will who stepped up to me early on the morning of 11 September 2001 and asked if I'd yet heard of the "airplane hitting the World Trade Center." I hadn't heard. But, during my first hour class, we watched live as the second aircraft hit the second tower. On its seventh anniversary this year the History Channel ran a two-hour special consisting strictly of videotapes taken in real time as those events were happening. It truly was like living it all over again. Some things you don't really get over in this life. You just learn to live with them and the hole stays in your heart. Seeing all those folks being pushed out the windows by the flames and falling 100 stories was about the worst thing I'd ever personally witnessed.


Will is a USAF 1Lt now at Malmstrom AFB, Montana. He's a missilier. He hopes that his wife, Jaime, will "let him" get a new 1911 pistol when he makes Captain. Go, Will!

I believe everyone knows that Mary and Heather are both due to produce new humans in April. I think Delsa might have said she's having one, too. We wish them luck in that endeavor.



Another dear old friend and former student is Jed Lewis. I'm able to attach a photo of him here and also of the one he called "Haeberbuddy," my brother Jacob. These two survived my classes by dint of hard work and great senses of humor. Either that or they were smoking those cafeteria crispitos.











Jane Haeberle, my youngest sibling, master of the pursuit of all things trivial and manager of the gift department at the BYU-I bookstore, was also one of my students at one time. She really was a serious, hard-working student, but taking too many classes from one person can leave psychological scars that are visible in one's speech and behavior decades later. Then, too, she had to endure being accused of being my daughter, a trial actually reserved for Autumn.



My first four children were also doomed to endure my classes. They were all very nice about it, although my mild insanity (it was mild back then) might have embarrassed them occasionally. They all did pretty well at it, too. I particularly recall Hyrum, though, expressing his doubt at some amazing factoid I'd dropped on the class. "Nuh-Uhhh!












I'll get Sheryl to teach me (again) how to scan, so I can at least show year book pictures of my students when I refer to them. Tonight I'll be limited to those of whom I already have pictures in the computer.

05 December 2008

Tonight's Memories

Far from being an exhaustive list, this is a sampling of the people and events which make me smile when I sit down to write each evening. If you're reading this, you belong in here whether your picture made it in tonight or not.












































































03 December 2008

Heather and the Peanut


Heather is one of my step-daughters. She is called this because of the frequency with which I had to step over her in the middle of the floor. What better place to watch the tube, read Harry Potter, or get to know a boyfriend?


She enjoys throwing people off with little acts of insanity. But it really is just an act. I think. I'm pretty sure, anyway.


As with most of the young women among my ever-more-numerous relations, Heather has always been too cute for her own good. While she was still in high school, she was so constantly beset by the attentions of young men that she had to wear fake wedding rings and take a spare male friend along to repel boarders during her frequent trips to the store. I served in this capacity a couple of times. So did my boy, Hyrum. I even seem to recall dimly that she actually allowed herself to be seen in public with her brother Josh a few times rather than face the hordes of young men who were desperate for her attention.


Now Heather has a new hobby. His name is Peanut, for now, and he's about 14 weeks along, I think. Candid photos taken only yesterday by our agents in Virginia Beach verify that Peanut is in fact a boy and that he has not yet developed the habit of wearing clothes. In fact, anonymous witnesses tell us that he has been seen frolicking around the womb in a state of nature!


Motherhood does strange things to women. All at once, they begin to see themselves as authority figures. Sheryl tells me that Heather's latest edict to me makes me responsible for the selection of the child's first name. This will explain the likelihood of my being seen in coming days with my head stuck in volumes of ancient Germanic or Celtic lore, searching for a title of sufficient grandiosity for this little legume. Wish me luck. Cute she may be, but the wrath of Heather makes Khan look a little sick.

02 December 2008

Posting Without Thought

I have a cold that would stop a moose. I'm tired, too. So I'll spare you another of my boring (but sincere) harangues tonight. Let's just look at some pictures of this past weekend. Dante came to see us, a minor miracle in itself. We also got to put him in the same room with his nieces and nephews whose clever costumes you just saw in Mary's blog. When we took him back to Mtn. Home, we stopped at the Perrine Bridge and at the Twin Falls Temple for photos. It's expensive and hard to get together with my fifth child, but it's always worth it. I love him greatly.










































































My Favorite Books & Authors

  • Dale Brown
  • Mark Twain
  • Charles Dickens
  • Speeches both Historical and Hysterical
  • Damon Runyon
  • Jan Karon Mitford Novels
  • Clive Cussler
  • Tom Clancy Novels
  • Harry Potter
  • The Works of Ernest Thompson Seton