The Great American Solar Eclipse of 2017

The Great American Solar Eclipse of 2017 was everything it was cracked up to be. I heard and read all about the hype for the months and weeks leading up to last Monday, August 21, and since then I've seen and heard numerous accounts of the event from people who traveled up to Idaho or Wyoming or other places to witness it from the path of totality. From what I've learned, I would definitely go out of my way to travel a good distance to see the next one from its path of totality so I can see things for myself.

Some of these accounts have even compared it all to a spiritual experience, and it's hard to see it any other way. Mother Nature can put on quite an amazing show if we stop, look, and listen to the majesty that surrounds us everywhere.

Anyhow, my experience with the eclipse (this time) was this: I put on my Clark Planetarium-approved sunglasses (yay, six eyes!) over my regular glasses and watched the eclipse from a patio chair in the backyard. Though I was not a witness in the path of totality, it was nevertheless a beautiful sight:

(No, the sky didn't turn this dark here; the background is black because the photo was taken from under the retina-protecting safety glasses.)

A photo can't really capture it. But it was beautiful. Here in North Salt Lake, the sky at 11 a.m. darkened to the point it normally would look at about 7:00 or 7:30 p.m. at this time of year. It was a bit surreal. I think there's really something to all of this astronomy stuff.

The Incas, whose descendants I lived among and served in Peru, worshipped the Sun. They also had a lot of weird traditions and sacrificed human beings, but they were onto something in their adoration of that celestial body that provides us all with light, heat, photosynthesis, and countless other wonders. Today, Peru's unit of currency (you'll thank me when/if this is ever on "Jeopardy!") is the sol, which is Spanish for "Sun."

For me, it all points to our Creator. Like Alma testifying before Korihor, it makes me want to proclaim:

"All things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator" (Alma 30:44).

With this eclipse, I feel like He basically dropped the mic.

Pioneer Day 2017, Part 2

My previous post on this year's Pioneer Day festivities was about stuff that actually occurred Sunday, July 23, which was also July's family dinner night.

On Monday, the 24th, I got the day off work and got to go along for a boys'-day-out lunch with Ben, Christian, and Graham at Sizzler, where we had a jolly good time together.

In the evening, JB and I made it over to the Heads' for our annual unofficial Improvables troupe fireworks show, where we saw many very bright and very loud things go boom. Somehow, baby Parker slept through most everything:

Fortunately, we escaped nearly dry just before a major cloudburst. And lived to tell the tale.

Pioneer Day 2017, Part 1

We had a blast (get it? fireworks?) celebrating Pioneer Day about a month ago. Fortunately, no fingers or toes were lost amid the fun.

I played a little bit of soccer with Kate in the backyard:

Graham's spider sense was tingling:

. . . but it turned out to be some very enthusiastic neighbors setting off some very loud fireworks of their own before it got dark.

Later, Graham and Jake, both cousins and buddies, enjoyed the fireworks show, provided by my more pyromaniacally inclined relatives:

And everything was great.

Heirlooms

Mom recently felt the time was right for her to divvy out a few of Dad's old clothes to my siblings and me, as well as to the grandkids. We had a really fun experience going through Dad's clothes and a few other belongings and reliving some memories in the process, including the bathrobe he wore for many years while we were growing up (modeled here by Mike):

Luke ended up with Dad's British cap, which he wore during his mission days in England, and he was really grateful for the heriloom (which he thought made him look like one of the Newsies from the musical Newsies):

The Mish: The Guinea Pigs Reunite

When I received my mission call to serve in the Perú Lima Central Mission years ago, I had no idea at that moment in time that American missionaries had not been sent to the country for several years previously. When I read my letter, which was signed by President Howard W. Hunter, out loud, Dad even remarked, in disbelief, "No, they don't send 'em there!"

I came to learn that due to terrorism in the country, a couple of missionaries had been murdered in Peru, in the '80s, after which all American missionaries were shipped out to other lands. By the mid-'90s, however, Peru had taken control of the situation to the point the Church felt it was time to send Americans back. Indeed, I had received a correct call. Three other Americans and I were among the first group of four Americans headed to MPLC. Since that time, we've often joked that this was a test (it sort of was) to see how we would fare and to see whether or not we'd be killed by terrorists (it sort of wasn't; not really). Unofficially, we were the four guinea pigs.

Which is ironic in itself, because Peruvians eat guinea pigs (yes, you've been told correctly). It is a delicacy for the Peruvians, and it is called cuy.

With Bill Bay and his family in town from Florida, JB and I were invited to meet up at Mike Bryner's home in North Salt Lake to reminisce about old times and to catch up with each other's lives. The food (which included some of the best spare ribs I've ever eaten) was delectable. The company was equally as good.

I'm very grateful for my association with the three other cuys (the fourth, John Ure, is currently on the East coast) who pioneered the return of American missionaries to Peru, paving the way for several more to serve (and, eventually, sister missionaries) in the years that have followed. They helped me socially and spiritually in countless ways, as did the Peruvian missionaries and people with whom we had the privilege to associate.