English Class...

A new quarter is set to begin. The syllabus is set and loaded to the required on-line systems. Writing Exercises have been planned and a grading system is in place. In a mere couple hours, I will be faced with new students set to stare me down and attempt to break me of my irrational passion for the written word.

This is what I have to say to them:

You will not break me. I have had those who already tried and they failed. I will always be the crazed instructor who loves the subject she teaches. I will attempt to instill in you the fight for expression--YOUR expression.

You will not break me. I will understand when you tell me you never did well in English class, but I won't let you use that as an excuse. I will show you English isn't all comma placement, but a puzzle that can create anything you imagine.

You will not break me. I will do what it takes to keep you entertained. As much as you may want to nod off in class when the discussion of independent vs. dependent clauses comes about, I will tell you how they both work. Notice how I said TELL. The subject I teach includes stories and poems, novels and magazines.

You will not break me. I fought for what I teach. I put in the hours, I went through the critiques. And surprise, surprise... I want you to succeed.

You will not break me, and I will never give up on you.

Sound Reflects...

Twenty-two years ago a plan was set in motion. It was one of those things early teens do--the parent fake-out. Crystal told her Mom she was staying at my house, I told my parents I was staying at hers while they went off to celebrate their anniversary.



In that evening of young rebellion, and innocence, nestled the experience of my first concert. Local bands took over one building at the Logan Fair Parks. The youth of the community crammed into the building to release a bit of teen angst. Pressed near the south wall, next to the boy I was dating at the time, I was mesmerized by the sound of local musicians who formed the band Water*Front. The notes, riffs, beats, and lyrics resonated further than one would ever expect.

Last night, I stood watching three of the original members perform at Urban Lounge under a new name--Seven Daggers--while standing and laughing with a friend who just happened to be Water*Front's lass bass player. Watching and hearing the sounds took me back to those early days of my teen life--and I realized something: The men in this band played a significant role in who I've become.

Though I don't see them everyday; though I never became a grand concert promoter or critic of music--at the age of thirty-five I'm still dancing to their music.

Had the plan not been set to sneak out of the house, I would never have begun writing letters to them when I moved to a rural town in Utah. Had they not written back each and every time, I may never have started promoting concerts at Vernal's National Guard Armory (a huge thank you to Skeeter for understanding the youth of the community needed a place to go and providing the venue). Had they not traveled to perform, I wouldn't have set in motion creating my own business plan; I may never have realized my path in life was to be involved in community events. And most importantly, without them, I may never have realized my thoughts deserved to be heard--I learned to use my voice.

Twenty-two years ago, I snuck out of my house and got grounded for a week. All I can say is...

It was worth it!

Setting fire to the New Year...

The New Year is the strangest holiday. There is so much build up and then in a fleeting second the anticipation is over and the year has begun. As a folklorist it's almost a requirement to understand why people celebrate each holiday as they do, so this year it was a goal to take hold of the New Year and create significant meaning in my mind.

The last day of 2014 was spent figuring out a great meal to prepare, and as I drove the streets of Salt Lake City, I listened to the radio hearing the voices of strangers across the world and their ways of celebrating. Wishes were being cast into the universe. Somewhere in the east people were lighting lanterns to fly across the ocean for luck, and it made me think of Prometheus.

Prometheus, the Titan who sided with the Gods, created man from mud, and gave each of us the gift of fire for protection and ritual. If anything could be asked for in 2015, forethought of the human race should be considered. Late in the evening I set to the task of truly thinking of the things I want for the coming year(s). I wrote them down and decided to release them to the universe in a fashion Prometheus would approve, allowing the smoke of my wishes to rise to the skies.

As the paper ignited, cheers ensued from my surrounding neighbors. I added my voice to the mix--yelling out a Happy New Year. The flame was quick to ignite, and I watched as my wishes lifted to the heavens. The vapor of their smoke may take awhile to hit the stars, but I set them on their path along with the fire to kindle their reality.