Arch Madness

"I'm on intimate terms with this prairie."
True West by Sam Shepard

I'm not sure how many times I've been to Arches National Park over the years, but every time I return there I feel the presence of all the other visits and the people with whom I made them.

My most recent visit was a few weeks ago when I took my Western American Literature and Culture class on a field trip. We were reading Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey, once a part-time ranger at the park and now its patron saint. I thought that the students would understand the text much better if they had a chance to spend some time in Abbey country. In fact, whenever I teach a course on Western themes, I like to get my students out and about on field trips--riding horses, touring ranches, visiting museums, taking some hikes, and so forth--so they can get a corporeal feel for the West.

We had a great Saturday with perfect weather, but it was also in the middle of a Utah public school holiday, so the park was more crowded than I've ever seen it--hundreds and hundreds of people scattered all over the trails and slick rock. As I surveyed the scene while racing the BYU van toward the parking lot at Devil's Garden to get a parking spot ahead of the hoards behind me, I imagined Abbey (wherever he's buried in some secret wilderness spot known only to a select few of his ecological compatriots) spinning in his grave at the fulfillment of his dire predictions regarding the rise of "industrial tourism."

Despite the crowds, we had a fine but tiring one-day visit. We started with the Devil's Garden hike past Landscape Arch and on to Navajo Arch, Double O Arch, Partition Arch, and the rest. Then we made the pilgrimage to Delicate Arch and hung around the Windows area before heading back to Provo. Of course, my students were enthralled with the park. On that long drive north I thought about how cool it's been for me to be the one who introduced so many people to Arches National Park--family, students, ward members, and so on.

My first trip to the park was in connection with a Utah Humanities Book Group discussion I was doing with the Senior Citizens Center in Moab on Ivan Doig's Dancing at the Rascal Fair some time in the early nineties. Travis went with me. He earned the trip by reading the novel himself. We stayed at the Comfort Inn (the first of many stays there). As a boy, Travis loved the motel life with fast food, swimming pools, and color T.V. with cable. It was worth reading a big novel and hanging around a bunch of old people while his dad led a literary discussion for a chance at the easy life for a day or two, not to mention getting out of school for a couple days. Actually, I think Travis even contributed a comment or two to our discussion himself.

On our way home the next day, we decided to visit Arches. It was a cold winter day with flurries, but we had the park virtually to ourselves. We could spend only a few hours there, but we made good use of our time and saw most everything. We did the Delicate Arch hike in record time. I even walked the snow-encrusted path cut out of the side of the rock to get to the top and, for the first and only time, stood out under the arch itself. (As most of you know, I'm not too fond of heights.)

Standing there with my son taking in the majesty of a truly unique landscape spread all around us, I had only one thought, which I articulated to Travis the best I could: "Travis, if you so much as touch me, you'll have to walk home, so help me. I'm not kidding."

Of course, he immediately reached out with his index finger and touched me . . . and he got exactly the response he wanted from me, the details of which I'll keep private, but I was so grateful to get safely back across the bowl and down the icy path that I let Travis ride home with me and even bought him some lunch and the way.

That was the beginning of Arch Madness for me.

Four Luke Anecdotes

1. A couple Sundays ago we were busily getting ready for a family dinner with the house full of people. I was on table setting duty, but I somehow had neglected to put a knife at Luke's place. As always, he called me on it because he's always insisted on equal treatment with the adults at the dinner table (with the exception of his special John Deere plate). I apologized for my oversight saying that it was my bad. Luke responded very earnestly, "You're not bad. You're Travis's daddy. Remember?"

2. This one comes from Sharleen Nicosia, president of our ward Relief Society. One weekday, we had a ward crisis situation sort of blow up, so Sharleen drove over to the house to see if I was home so I could lend some assistance. She rang the door bell and Luke answered the door. (He, Miles, and Heidi were there working on something while Delys and I were at school.) He said to her, "Hi, you must be looking for my Grandpa Phillip."

3. Last night the Scotts from our ward kindly dropped by some brownies for family home evening. All 10 of them came along and crowded into the house. Luke and company were there for dinner, so he quickly made himself acquainted, especially with Jacob and Linda, two of the youngest Scotts, who had come running up to me for a hug saying, "Bishop, Bishop!" Luke must have felt the need to restore some order, so he got between me and them and said,"I'm Luke. This (pointing to me) is my Grandpa Phillip. He's Travis's daddy." Then off they went to play together.

4. Last night Luke got home from watching his dad play softball around 11:00, so he was tired. They came in through the laundry room, so with the master bedroom door open, Luke could see me in bed reading. Without missing a beat, he kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket, grabbed two of his favorite books from my childhood that we read together, jumped into bed with me, pulled up the covers, and said, "First, let's read Jack's Adventure. Then we can read The Little Cowboy's Christmas." Later he told Heidi, who had come to check on him, that he was sleeping there that night. Sure enough, he fell asleep right there, although this morning he woke up at Tracey's place. I don't think he'll even remember his dad gathering him up to take him out to the car or the ride to Eagle Mountain. Luke is a deep, deep sleeper.

Snyder Spring Quadathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Move

Because Travis and Heidi will be in no condition for the next couple days to put two articulate sentences together, let alone manage a blog entry, I'm taking it upon myself to report on what I call the "Snyder Spring Quadathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Move." I regret that I don't have Travis's ability to conjure up cool distinctive "branding" designs for this event (which we hope and pray will not become annual) and that I don't have Heidi's ability to photograph iconic moments and then post them in an aesthetically pleasing layout. Nevertheless, I'll press on using the meager language tools I have in my possession. (Note: that last bit is a nice example of litotes. Look it up.)

Friday Travis and I, along with assorted other volunteers, spent the day readying Salem's lovely Knoll Park for the next morning''s 8th annual Salem Spring Triathlon. (If it were a child, we would have baptized and confirmed it this year.) The highlights of these preparations: Travis's discovery of spray chalk, which comes in different colors and disappears after 10 days (could make "green" graffiti popular); the addition of two motor scooters, which we all enjoyed riding around (even Delys); and the addition of 200 candles (technical term for tall, slim orange traffic cones) marking the middle of the road along the bike course. Most of us got to bed by midnight, while Travis and Matt Ward did the all-night patrol and security watch, with back-up from Salem's finest. Even so, no one is ever ready for that 5 am wake-up.

Saturday, everything went as beautifully as it had the day before: plenty of volunteers, everything done on time, lots of enthusiasm, and lovely mild and sunny weather. Even Chief James complimented me on how well Travis had things arranged this year. Our only real problem was the theft of a box of about 120 extra race shirts by person or persons unknown who have ruined their personal karma for at least a decade or so. If I believed in reincarnation, I'd expect them to come back as Dick Cheney or Bernard Madoff or perhaps something worse, like an ebola virus. Delys took care of Luke and Miles, so Heidi could spend most of the day at the race. Delys says she had the easy job, but tending those boys for 8 or 9 hours is lots harder than yelling at spectator who try and get on the race course. Heidi's custom-made award medals were a big hit. She's getting pretty good at making bling.

Usually, the clean-up after the awards is the bane of triathlon existence because everyone is so hammered (a condition not even hammer gel can remedy), but this year things seemed to go especially well and very quickly, thanks to family and 12th Ward members. We had virtually everything packed in the trailer by around 5. Travis and I both commented that we felt the best we'd ever felt at 5 on triathlon Saturday. My favorite part of clean-up was gathering all the candles from the bike course. We had two teams in pick-up trucks. I was with Sam (1st counselor in the bishopric0 and Doug (YM president) in Doug's SUNROC truck. Sam and I were in the truck bed snatching candles left and right while Doug drove along. Marissa, Brooke, Steven, and Steve Parker were in the other truck. I think it took us just over an hour or so.

We would have been sitting pretty if it weren't for the fact that Travis and Heidi had signed closing papers during triathlon check-in. They had to be out of their house by Monday evening, so we had a long day Monday loading and cleaning. I never knew Marissa was such a great wall cleaner. I'll let Travis and Heidi provide the other moving (and I do mean "moving") details, but I think it'll be awhile before any of us has the distance necessary to report on the move in grim detail.

Except I'll share an image that I'll always remember as the crowning moment of our long, long weekend. When Delys and I were heading down the freeway this morning headed for BYU, I noticed a Titan coming up behind us in the left lane. It was Travis, of course, loaded down with the last of their possessions. He shot us a bemused look that said, "Yes, I'm on the road again doing what I do. Even I can't believe it." The last we saw of him he was heading for Eagle Mountain (where I hope Heidi, Luke, and Miles were still sleeping) talking on the phone with some business partner about some new deal or project.

Here's what I learned over the past few days shadowing Travis:

Entrepreneurs never clock out; they just go on an occasional break.
Entrepreneurs never sleep; they just recharge until the green light comes on.
Entrepreneurs never die; they just move on to a new market.

If I were an entrepreneur myself, these observations would constitute 3/7 of a best-selling non-fiction book, which would probably be enough to get a publishing contract with a cash advance. But I'm going to stop right here. I don't want to make a habit out of this.

January's Bishopric Message: Change

As many of you may know, the bishopric divides the monthly conducting responsibilities for sacrament meeting throughout the year (along with doing sharing time in Primary and writing the bishopric message for the newsletter). Each of us also determines a general theme for the months we conduct to help our sacrament speakers focus on the gospel principles most needful for our ward. Of course, we do our very best to be inspired in our theme selections and speaker invitations.

In recent years, we’ve put together a list of our themes for the entire year to make it easier for Sister Nedra Christensen, our ward music chair, to select hymns that reflect those themes. We feel very blessed to have a tradition in our ward of spiritual sacrament meetings—thanks largely to speakers who always prepare well to give us the inspired messages the Lord would have us hear. I feel the Spirit in every sacrament meeting and also learn something I need to do personally to change my life for the better.

Usually, Sam and Jerry get their themes together way before I do, but this year I beat them both, much to their surprise. I did something a little different, too, choosing one-word themes with accompanying scriptures to help augment those themes. Sam and Jerry followed that pattern in their themes, and I think we ended up with some very timely and inspired themes for 2009.

When we were reviewing those themes during bishopric meeting one Sunday morning in early December, Mike Keetch, our incisive executive secretary, paused on the theme I had selected for January—“Change.” He surveyed everyone in the room and then looked directly at me with that half smile he always gets when he finds a little humor in something and said: “The election has been over for a month now. Can’t you give it a rest?”

As you can imagine, nothing I argued in denial convinced Mike, Sam, Jerry, and Lynn that I hadn’t chosen that theme consciously in celebration of Barack Obama’s January 20th inauguration. Every protest I made was greeted with more laughter, so I know any attempt to repeat those denials here would be futile. Instead, I think I’ll just go with it and write about “Change We Can Believe In.”

Of course, the real “change we can believe in” has very little to do with politics or even nationalism. It has everything to do with Jesus Christ and His atonement. Accordingly, the scripture theme for January comes from Alma’s sermon to the people of Zarahemla on the absolute necessity of seeking and maintaining a constant spiritual rebirth. Alma poses some key questions for us to ponder:

“And now behold, I ask of you, my brethren of the church, have ye spiritually been born of God? Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?

Do ye exercise faith in the redemption of him who created you? Do you look forward with an eye of faith, and view this mortal body raised in immortality, and this corruption raised in incorruption, to stand before God to be judged according to the deeds which have been done in the mortal body?” (Alma 5:14-15)

Alma’s questions here also imply a pretty good definition of what it means to be spiritually reborn:

1. We need to reflect the image of God in our countenances.
2. We need to experience a change of heart.
3. We need to exercise faith in the Savior’s redemption on our behalf.
4. We need to look forward with faith to the resurrection and final judgment.

All this relates directly to the Church’s primary mission—to invite everyone to come unto Christ—which, in turn, reflects the Savior’s own invitation, made at multiple times and in multiple places, to “Come, Follow Me.”

The invitation to follow Christ is fundamentally an invitation to change. This invitation extends to everyone, of course, but it has special application, as Alma teaches us, to members of the Church because we have committed ourselves by covenant to follow the Savior and to become like Him. We cannot do that without being willing to change—to rid ourselves of every attitude and behavior that does not belong in a Christ-centered life.

We have often heard the aphorism that “the only constant in this world is change.” My experience tells me that this is true. In Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night Malvolio (a comic and ironic figure) observes “[B]e not afraid of greatness: some are born to greatness, some achieve greatness, others have greatness thrust upon them.” Substituting “change” for “greatness” in Malvolio’s speech, I would write: “Be not afraid of change: we are born to change, we must achieve change, change will be thrust upon us.”

In our culture, the new year is a traditional time for making personal resolutions to change. As we do that, it’s important for us to remember that the new year comes just after Christmas, which should remind us that true change can come only through the Savior. So whatever resolutions we make for the coming year, let’s ground them all spiritually. We’ll have a much better chance of achieving them that way.

It’s our prayer that we’ll experience true “change we can believe in” throughout the coming year—as individuals, as families, and as a ward. Let’s renew our commitment to come unto Christ and to be perfected in Him. We know that we can live more Christ-like lives and that, through the atonement, we can each be given the power necessary to change—to transform our weaknesses into strengths and to enjoy greater inner peace and spirituality—whatever turmoil swirls about us in these troubled times.

Love, Bishop Snyder and the 12th Ward Bishopric