Ethan played flag football this fall. I felt like I had been lax in my fatherly responsibilities after his first practice. Ethan had heard of football, and had seen glimpses of BYU games occasionally, but I think practice may have been one of the first times in his life someone had thrown a football to him.
San Diego 2002
First order of business, find a playground. Dad pushed Ethan and Gerrit on the swings.
May 28, 2002
Ethan at Junior Driving School Legoland. “I loved it. It was fun. I even bumped into some kids.”
May 29, 2002
Gerrit was so funny. He even squirted water on me.
May 29, 2002
A crowd gathered to watch Ethan take the picture. Several of the adults seemed ready to help him but Ethan did fine.
(Photo taken by Ethan)
May 29, 2002
At the beach the waves were so big that they went right over me. It was very cold but we loved the water.
May 30, 2002
At Sea World we got wet.
May 31, 2002
Last picture before coming home and we’re still smiling.
Jun. 1, 2002
Un-Easy Rider
I’ve occasionally had dreams that I’m riding a motorcycle. Having done very little of that in real life, I think it’s something my subconscious pulls out to represent freedom, and escape from worries. Shannon, good wife that she is, tries to make my dreams come true, and so signed me up for a beginning motorcycle class.
The End of an Era
It is with some amazement that I announce the end of an era: Ethan is no longer obsessed with garbage.
Issue 28
| March 3, 2002 | Issue 28 | Lehi, Utah |
In this issue:
Weathering the Weather
One of the blessings of working with the Young Men is a tremendous appreciation for the simple things in life, like sleeping indoors during a blizzard, for example.
I gained this appreciation in December as the Young Men’s president, John Boyd, and I took a couple of boys camping up American Fork Canyon. The idea was to build snow caves, which I remembered being pretty fun when I was a Scout. Unfortunately, our expert assessment of the snow concluded that it was a little too dry and crystalline to make good caves. That assessment was concluded right after we dug John out from under our collapsed cave.
John, moments before the collapse.
Dec. 14, 2001
A better strategy might have been to just roll up inside a tarp, because at the rate it was snowing, you could have had a nice cave by just holding still for a while. Around midnight, when we were finally ready to attempt sleep, the snow had stopped. We slept under the stars inside our collapsed cave, because three walls are better than nothing.
It was mentally tough to strip off our outer layers of clothes in order to get into sleeping bags. What was harder was putting those outer layers back on again in the morning. There’s something disconcerting about seeing all the ice still caked on the outside of your coat exactly as it was the night before. I guess some irrational part of my brain expected it to melt instead of stiffening up even more.
We burned through the firewood we brought with us pretty quickly, but we were lucky to find a few small dead trees that we pulled down for fuel. While warming them over the fire, I discovered what the insides of gloves look like when one made that subtle transition from cold and wet to on fire.
The snowy night made for a beautiful morning.
Dec. 15, 2001
The morning was cold and clear, but when we finally broke camp (and after a little sledding) we discovered that the mountains had spared us of the wind portion of the blizzard. Back home, the snow had drifted several feet high. Shannon had been pretty worried about us as the house rattled through the night. It felt especially nice to curl up with her that next night, in a soft, warm bed, and with a roof over my head.
Olympics Photo Essay
Patrolling Blackhawk helicopters were a frequent reminder that the games were afoot. Other than them, and the torch relay, Lehi remained pretty quiet during the 2002 Winter Games. We did venture out a few times, though, for some Olympic experiences.
Waiting in the freezing cold to see the
Olympic Torch be carried through Lehi.
Feb. 6, 2002
After a quick warm-up in the Lehi Bakery,
we caught up with the torch-bearer for a photo-op.
Feb. 6, 2002
A highlight was a men’s hockey game at the Peaks Arena in Provo. Kerry and I went with Shannon’s parents (Shannon stayed home with Ethan, who was sick).
Feb. 13, 2002
We somehow managed some great seats to see
Ukraine beat up on France.
Feb. 13, 2002
We had dinner at the Rodizio Grill two tables away from Matheus Inoc�ncio (left) and Edson Bindilatti (right) of the
Brazilian bobsled team.
Feb. 15, 2002
Renato Mizoguchi, who rode luge for Brazil, was also there.
Feb. 15, 2002
We went downtown to check things out, but other than waiting in line for security checks, listening to the anti-Mormons, and watching thousands of other people wandering around, there wasn’t much to do.
Feb. 18, 2002
The Olympic Square had some good dancing music.
Feb. 18, 2002
Losing Ethan
Last Tuesday, I lost Ethan — every mother’s nightmare. It didn’t happen the way I’d always feared it would. I wasn’t shopping at the mall or the grocery store. I lost Ethan at home.
Ethan and Gerrit had spent the morning playing at a friend’s house, and when they got home, Gerrit was ready for his afternoon nap. After reading the boys a story, Ethan slipped away while I indulged in some rocking and cuddling with Gerrit. Leaving Gerrit in his bed, I glanced into Ethan’s room. Ethan wasn’t there.
Ethan is supposed to have “quiet time” in his room while Gerrit naps, so I assumed he was trying to play hooky — maybe downstairs playing on the computer. In any case, I thought he’d be my shadow in less than 10 minutes so I dropped into my favorite chair to read for a few minutes. Two chapters later, it dawned on me: the house was perfectly quiet — too quiet. Ethan was not playing on the computer, or hide and seek, or anything that would require he be in the house. Ethan was gone!
I ran downstairs to check the office — it was dark — called Ethan’s name, checked the back door — it was locked — ran back upstairs, yelled Ethan’s name with that special parental tone, a combination of ollie ollie oxen free and get out here this minute before I tan your hide — no response.
The first seeds of panic were beginning to grow. Fragments of our pre-story conversation were coming back to me. Ethan couldn’t find his robot and was afraid he’d left it at Danny’s house. I had brushed him off and said we’d worry about finding it later. Did Ethan set out for Danny’s while I rocked Gerrit? I ran out the front door yelling Ethan’s name. It was freezing cold and very windy. Ethan wouldn’t leave would he? Danny’s house was far away.
I ran back into the house and reached for the phone, torn over who I should call first, the police or Eric. Instinctively, I dialed Eric to report I’d lost his first born — and please don’t hate me forever. I was still searching the house, rechecking all the bathrooms calling, “Ethan — EEEETHAANN!” Eric answered, but before I could utter my first hysterics I dropped the phone. I picked it back up and told Eric that I had lost Ethan, and in relief, just found him.
Rechecking Ethan’s room for possibly the third time, I finally saw him angelically sleeping in a jumble of blankets on his loft bed. I was so relieved. I tiptoed out of his room, shut the door, and went back to my book, this time enjoying the silence a house with napping children. A part of me wanted to shake Ethan awake while crying, “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” But Ethan napping is such a rare thing, why ruin it because his mother is crazy?
Brain Surgery
I took a step deeper into Geekland recently by overhauling my home computer. Sure, I’ve been inside the case lots of times, but this time I pulled out and replaced the motherboard, main memory, and the CPU. In computer terms, that’s something like a brain transplant — or maybe even a brain and heart transplant.
I start to feel the need for an upgrade around the time that I can triple my computing power for a fraction of what I paid for my existing system. But I even showed some restraint and didn’t buy the fastest processor available — just a measly AMD Athlon XP 1900+ instead of the 2000+. I suppose that small discretion was offset by buying a bleeding edge motherboard.
I put in an Nvidia nForce based motherboard, which has so much stuff integrated into it that I went from having something packed into every expansion slot down a nice tidy chassis.
The bleeding edge part is that my system is a little flaky in a couple of respects. Hopefully newer drivers will straighten some of that out. The nice side is that my 3DMark2001 score (a graphics benchmark) improved from 900 to 2256. Whew! I was starting to get near the bottom end of the hardware requirements for the latest games.
Issue 27
Death
American Fork, Utah doesn’t seem a likely place for a terrorist attack. There’s not quite the same iconic visibility as the World Trade Center. If you stretch it a little, the 2002 Olympics are a possible target just a few months and a few miles away. Still, American Fork?
A couple of weeks ago, Shannon, the kids and I went to a custom frame shop to pick up a montage of photos from our Yellowstone trip. Shannon had ordered it a while back to send as a thank you gift to her parents. Then we went next door to Smith’s to get a couple of groceries. We weren’t in too much of a hurry, so I let the kids dawdle a little.
Later in the evening, Shannon and I drove by there again on our way out to dinner. We noticed a news truck, a bunch of police, and other emergency vehicles. We kind of wondered what was going on, so we watched the 10:00 news.
It turns out that someone had set off a bomb in front of Smith’s. The news report says that it was a pipe bomb inside a large container of fertilizer. Fortunately, the fertilizer didn’t explode, so there wasn’t any significant damage. A woman was right near the explosion, but she was unharmed other than a temporary hearing loss. The news clip had an interview with the man from the frame shop we had just been to that morning.
The bomb went off at about 11:00 AM, which was within minutes of when we walked by where it was. It seems so hard to believe. Who would do that? It doesn’t take too many “ifs” for a real disaster: if we had dawdled just a little more, and if the bomb had exploded completely, for example.
So far as I know, the police and FBI haven’t had any luck tracking down the perpetrator. [Update Dec. 20: Two men have been arrested, with the thought that they were going to try to use the bomb to rob the store. See the news article.]
The 9/11 attacks were horrible, but many smaller tragedies happen every day. I’m thankful that this wasn’t one for us.
Fame
Some may call me a name dropper, but I met Henry B. Eyring of the Quorum of the Twelve, an apostle of God.
Eric and I were having family over for a barbecue and I couldn’t find any paper plates so I packed up the boys and headed to the closest grocery store — Albertson’s.
I was pushing the boys along in one of those rare peaceful shopping moments. I wasn’t ranting, “No, we’re not buying: candy, toys, matches put that back!” Nothing like that when I looked into the eyes of a very tall man. He was well dressed white shirt, tie, glasses; bald. He smiled and I smiled and that was all. We were just two shopping carts passing in the night — I mean aisle.
I continued with my shopping trying to look normal while in my head an agitated voice was saying, “That was Henry B. Eyring. Henry B. Eyring just smiled at you. Henry B Eyring shops at Albertson’s.” I told Ethan and Gerrit we had just seen an apostle.
At the check-out I noticed Elder Eyring over in the bakery. By now the voice in my head had turned reproachful, “Why didn’t you speak to Elder Eyring — introduce the boys?” I felt giddy.
Never one to miss an opportunity for bodily harm, Ethan was hanging perilously out of the cart. The woman ahead of me mistook him for one of her own three boys and began reproaching him. She soon realized her mistake and apologized but I told her she could discipline my children any time. Since we were talking I couldn’t resist pointing out Elder Eyring to her and we laughed about proper grocery store etiquette. Is it really stalking if you follow an apostle through the market just to see what he buys? Is it inappropriate to go up and shake hands?
Well, after I paid for my paper plates I noticed Elder Eyring was now also waiting in a check out line. I truly agonized for a few seconds over whether I should go back over to him or just leave before my children broke something I’d have to pay for. I wanted my boys to shake an apostle of the Lord’s hand. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I took the boys over and said, “Elder Eyring I want my sons to meet you.” He was so kind asked their names and said they were fine young men and I cried — what a wimp.
After shaking Elder Eyring’s hand we left. I was feeling ebullient. The woman who’d been standing just in front of Elder Eyring caught up to me and said, “Was it really him?” Yes!
Now I’m left to wonder how Sister Erying gets her husband to buy milk and croissants.
Photo Album
Hawaii 2001
We packed a lot of stuff to entertain the kids for the long trip. The pipe cleaners were a big hit while waiting in LAX.
Aug. 11, 2001
The rocky beach at Kanaloa was fun to scramble around on.
Aug. 12, 2001
Kayaking to the Captain Cook Memorial was a definite highlight for me.
Aug. 15, 2001
Snorkeling near the Captain Cook Memorial.
Aug. 15, 2001
Hapuna Beach. We could have stayed there all day.
Aug. 16, 2001
Since last trip, Ethan’s interests expanded to include throwing rocks…
Aug. 14, 2001
…in addition to garbage containers. This was one of Ethan’s favorite little bits of paradise.
Aug. 16, 2001
Ethan taught Gerrit the game, too.
Aug. 16, 2001
But grandpa’s golf cart may have been the overall favorite.
Aug. 18, 2001
Cruising the ocean bottom in a submarine was one of our last adventures.
Aug. 18, 2001
The wildlife really came out when it rained.
Aug. 18, 2001
Issue 26
| July 24, 2001 | Issue 26 | Lehi, Utah |
In this issue:
Time Travel
I started getting a little excited as the year ticker rolled around to 2001. Sure, there was the whole millennium ado, but I was more excited about a plastic tub sitting in my closet. It had recently been transplanted from my parents’ garage, where it had remained unopened for twenty years.
Come to think of it, that might not make it very unique among things in my parents’ garage. Who knows how much stuff there hasn’t seen the light of day in twenty years? But this particular tub had an expiration date for its neglect: May 28, 2001.
So on that day I cut through the tamper-proof masking tape seal and popped it open.
It was a time capsule that I had made when I was 13 as part of an assignment for a social studies class. I remember taking it to my teacher that day for the final pass-off. He looked at the year it was to be opened, which was our own choice, and made some comment like, “Ah, a man after my own heart.” I guessed he was alluding to a passion for 2001: A SpaceOdyssey or something, but I just kept my mouth shut. I had picked the year just because it was a nice even twenty.
The only other thing I remembered was storing some Star Wars cards in there — which I probably thought was the neatest thing in the whole bucket. As I opened it, though, I was hoping for other fun treasures. Things that would give me a deep look into the boy I had been. Audacious predictions of what the world would be like in 2001. Or just a heart-felt page or two about life in general.
I was a bit disappointed.
Sure enough, there were some Star Wars cards, and a few other tidbits from the time: an Atari 2600 game catalog, a filled-in Mad-Lib, and a Dungeons and Dragons reference sheet, among others. There was also a letter to myself, which read exactly like something I would have written just to fulfill an assignment. Oh, and there were some fun pictures of myself, my friends Zan and Robert, and some family members. Fun in the “prime blackmail material” sort of way. Did we really look so goofy? My only prediction was that nuclear energy would be important in about 50 years.
After further reflection, I don’t feel so bad. I see that I was just a generally happy kid — though clearly destined to be a geek. Heavily into Star Wars and Dungeons and dragons, I already figured that I’d be some sort of engineer when I grew up, and I couldn’t think of an answer on the time capsule questionnaire for “Favorite sports star”. But being a geek isn’t so bad. It pays pretty well.
In the end, I think the most fun thing was a little scrap of paper at the very bottom of the tub, which read “This plastic container belongs to Zan Hyatt and should be returned.”
My photo from the time capsule
(though probably earlier than 1981, I think)
Tent Dwelling
Shannon had a few reservations about moving last year. “What if our new ward doesn’t have a father and son outing? That’s about my only chance to get rid of all you guys for a while.”
Well, her fears were unfounded. Our outing was at the beginning of June. Gerrit was about to turn two, so I figured he could come along with Ethan and I, especially since the campground was relatively close by. Worst case, I figured I could just come home. It was a pretty close call.
Cozy Campsite
June 1, 2001
With a little help from a ward member, we got camp set up in a meadow near Squaw Peak. In fact, the early evening was downright halcyon as we took a short hike through the woods.
Gerrit in the meadow
June 1, 2001
Since the area we were camping in was completely without “facilities”, Ethan and I heeded the call of nature in the most natural way. Gerrit, though in diapers, was fascinated by this. He seemed to feel left out of something really cool. So I took off his diaper for a bit. He wasn’t able to perform, but seemed to enjoy being free and easy in the woods. That experience seems to have had a great impact on Gerrit. Since then he’s partially potty trained himself at the tender age of two.
Things continued well until it was time to go to sleep. I let the boys stay up a bit later than usual in the hopes that they’d fall asleep quickly. After I was satisfied that I had settled them down, we all lay down. Gerrit then pertinaciously refused to sleep, demonstrating why having him trapped in a crib at home is such a wonderful thing. He rolled. He flopped. He bounced. He kept standing up. And that was just the stuff he did while on top of my head.
Of course he was keeping Ethan awake too, and Ethan started on about his displeasure with the whole camping thing in the calm, rational expression of a four-year-old. There was also the small tree I somehow missed while setting up the tent that was either drilling into my back or making me contort to avoid it. I’m quite proud of myself, as a father, that both children lived to see the morning. Not that morning was such a long time away when I finally got to sleep.
Mmm, Doritos.
June 2, 2001
The early breakfast was Doritos that Gerrit had been wanting all night. The real breakfast was pancakes, eggs, sausage and hash browns that tasted good in the way only camp food can. Ethan could hardly stand to eat at all, though, he was so ready to go back home.
Still, as we were hauling our gear back to the car, Ethan said, “Dad, can we come back here?”
When we made it back home, I asked Shannon how she had enjoyed her night of freedom. Ironically, she had locked herself out of the house and spent most of the evening trying to get back in before finally resorting to a locksmith.
Butterflies on Aisle Eleven
It was Friday night and I felt really tired. The house was a mess. Ethan had been to the dentist that morning and, despite our faithful brushing, he had three cavities. Gerrit had dumped a whole bag of Goldfish crackers on the kitchen floor, and at some point I realized that the ka-thud ka-thud ka-thud sound I was hearing was, in fact, Ethan and Gerrit rolling a bottle of soda down the stairs. Finally, they find a game they both enjoy: root beer roulette. We had meatloaf for dinner, which I know is not the most kid-friendly of meals, but I was still a bit disappointed that Gerrit spread his mashed potatoes all over the kitchen table and only ate ketchup.
Anyway, I was so caught up in the negative, feeling glad this day was almost over, that I very nearly forgot about my little miracle.
This morning, while on our way into the grocery store, Gerrit pointed out a butterfly that had just landed on a rough, white brick wall. Instead of hurrying into the store, I took him over for a closer look. We watched the butterfly for maybe a minute. I was so surprised that it hadn’t flown away. I put my hand beside the butterfly and it crawled onto my finger. I don’t know why, maybe it liked the chipped “Cherry Jubilee” nail polish, whatever the reason a butterfly stood on my hand!
The butterfly was so light it felt like nothing. We get so caught up in their beautiful wings — this one was yellow — but I also saw it’s distinctly bug-like legs. I felt a slight revulsion — there’s a bug crawling on me — but it was pretty cool. I’m sure Gerrit won’t remember the time his mom charmed a butterfly just so he could see it, and if there are many more Fridays like today maybe I won’t either. It did remind me, though, that neat things can happen anywhere — even in Albertson’s parking lot.
Photo Album
Sneaking up on a pea cock at Tracy Aviary
28 May 2001
“Help! There’s a lory on my head!”
28 May 2001
Yee-ha!
19 May 2001
Super boy
15 Apr 2001
New spiky do
15 Apr 2001
“I wonder how this egg dye tastes…”
14 Apr 2001
The sub-zero egg hunt
12 Apr 2001
Masters calmly at work
05 Apr 2001
The hat no child can resist
01 Apr 2001
Always remember your eye protection!
10 Feb 2001
Issue 25
Child Abuse
Violence, especially when involving a child, is an ugly thing. I can vouch for that first-hand. My children have been abusing me a fair amount lately.
The trend started when Ethan and I were wrestling one morning. I guess it had been a while since we had clipped his fingernails (that would be a whole different wrestling match), because he recognized them for their apparent combat potential. He dragged a fingernail from the base of my neck to the middle of my sternum. Without exaggeration, a strip of my skin dangled from the end of his finger.
Something in my face inspired him to an immediate sincere apology. The shower sure stung that morning, and I looked like I was recovering from surgery for a few days.
Gerrit, not one to be upstaged, pretty much took over from there. Aside from being the general King of Destruction in our home, he also does his share of harm.
Not long ago, while Shannon was holding him to me for a kiss goodnight, he thought a head-butt-to-the-eye goodnight would be much more fun.
But his magnum opus so far was a time when I was asleep. It’s not often that I’m asleep when he’s out of his crib, but for some reason, that was the situation. He climbed up on the bed, and I groggily noticed something cold and metallic rubbing on my upper arm. I thought, Oh, Gerrit is driving one of his little cars on my arm, and I just tried to keep sleeping.
When he went over to visit Shannon (also sleeping), she woke with a start to find Gerrit with a razor in his hand. The connection still didn’t quite make it through my head, until I got up later to find a raw patch on my arm that had bled in a few places.
I do have to say, though, that in Gerrit’s case he distributes the beatings evenly. We’ve all learned that when you sword fight with Gerrit, it’s a very practical exercise in self-defense. He even gets himself sometimes. Just yesterday he stepped off a mattress and in a stumbling, running attempt to regain his balance, smacked right into a wall. That’s one of those dichotomous experiences where you try to show sufficient comforting sympathy while stifling a giggle.
Game Over
A very sad e-mail hit my inbox a couple of weeks ago. Seeing the subject line, “Game over for Gamecenter,” my heart sank a little.
Gamecenter is one of the web sites I visited most regularly. Their “Dispatch” that shows up in my work inbox brought a bit of stolen pleasure each week as I peeked at the computer game reviews. The best reviews are for games that I’ve greatly anticipated (knowing about them from previous Gamecenter previews), and for games that really stink. The latter are always good for a laugh. In fact, I doubt I’ve played any games over the past few years that I didn’t first get a good recommendation for from Gamecenter.
And now they’re gone. The dot com shakeout finally impacted me in a personal way. Sure, several of the free ISPs I’ve used have dropped like flies as I kept changing from one to the next (though NetZero remains in business; they just take their fee in blood instead of dollars — they get more obnoxious every week). I’ve also gotten e-mails from several other free services as they crashed and burned. But this was the first one to hurt a little.
It turns out that Gamecenter didn’t go bust — their parent company, through acquisitions, ended up with two gaming web sites. One of them had to go, and pink slips to the Gamecenter staff announced which one.
Their last feature on the site was a list of bios for all the writers and editors. Each name was followed by a sadly ironic little button: “add to cart”.
It’s Home Now
Every now and then, someone will ask us, “So, are you all settled in your new house?” I usually respond, “Yeah, pretty much,” which is the socially expected “I’m fine, thanks”.
But really I wanted to say, “It’s never home until I’ve got a place for my computer.” Of course, you can’t say that for fear of being considered not only a total geek, but ungrateful for such a nice new house.
When we bought the house, the “no place for an office” flaw was immediately apparent, but there was a whole lot of space in the basement to remedy that.
We started the remedy in January, and hoped to be done near the end of February. Unfortunately, it was the classic over-schedule, over-cost project. It caused lost sleep, tough choices and was highly educational. The adage comes to mind that good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment.
Anyway, after all that, I was finally able to resurrect my desk from its dusty and partially disassembled/destroyed state last week. Over the past few days, I got my computer set up. I was especially anxious to do this since I had gotten a high-speed internet connection hooked up about a month ago, and hadn’t been able to use it.
Unfortunately, when I finally got all the hardware hooked up, I couldn’t get a connection. I went through hours of technical support music, with lots of suggested tweaks, apologies about hardware incompatibilities and finally stumped support people. I was starting to suspect software rot — my OS had stopped shutting down cleanly a while back, and was getting a bit cluttered with junk.
On a gamble, I installed a clean version of Windows XP, which I have been beta testing at work. I knew that no support technician would touch me with a ten foot pole after that, but hey, I figured I had exhausted their expertise anyway. Besides, I’d grown to like XP from using it at work. So, I installed it, and everything just worked! I felt like a Mac user for a moment, though not quite so “artsy”.
So here I type in a new office, on a new operating system, with a new high-speed link to the ‘net. And if all goes well, this issue will even be published on an advertisement free new host.
And even though my office isn’t totally finished, I’m starting to think, “Yeah, this is feeling like home.”
New Office in Progress
April 22, 2001