70 Things to Know about Stan Olmstead

Whenever I tell a story about my Dad, I begin it the same way:

“If you don’t know my dad, you should meet him. But when you meet him there are three things you need to know about him before you meet him.”

The first two are always the same, the third varies dependent on the story I plan to tell. The more stories I tell, I realize there are many things everyone should know about Dad!

1. His nickname is “Stan the Man the Mountain Man”.
2. If you ask Stan a yes or no question, you need to be prepared to listen to the 20 to 30 minute response that will follow which will provide all the factual details as to his yes or no response.
3. He began his fulltime career with the government as a Scatologist.
4. He has had his mustache since 1972!
5. He was born a day early, in a bed pan, because his Mom was went into labor while plucking chickens.
6. When Shannon and I were young, living in Olympia, Washington, Stan saved Shannon’s Halloween pumpkin from teens playing a holiday prank. As they ran to smash the pumpkin in the road, Stan came charging out of the garage holding a bloody knife and in a blood stained smock, he had just been butchering a deer when they came to have their fun. I think the teens had more of a trick than a treat on that holiday.
7. He tells amazingly good bedtime stories! Ask him for Johnny and the Bear, or any of the sci-fi stories that at age eleven I found were taken from the Twilight Zone (Dad tells them better).
8. When Shannon was born in 1975, he passed out cigars to his entire class, informing the students and instructor he’d have to skip class as he had just become a father.
9. He can talk to ANYONE!!
10. He swears his Levi jeans saved his life in his worst motorcycle accident.
11. He doesn’t drink out of a straw, and surprisingly it’s not for environmental reasons.
12. His favorite birthday cake, isn’t cake, it’s blueberry pie.
13. He lights fireworks off with emergency roadside flares.
14. He makes the best hot Tang around. It’s best to share with him on a cold fall day in a canoe on a marsh while he tells you all the Latin names of birds flying by.
    
15. He hates the word “fart”.
16. One of his MANY goals is to climb the highest peak in every US state. He only has eleven remaining.
17. He has climbed the highest peak in England, Wales, and Scotland.
18. His decision to not take a job in Alaska and instead take one that led our family to Utah saved his life. We’re thankful everyday.
19. He did act the BEAR of a father once, pounding on a hotel room door at two in the morning proclaiming, “If I ever see you with my daughter again, I’ll kill you.” This has become one of our favorite family stories to tell.
20. He likes to work with his hands. Making woodwork furniture, no one piece ever the same as another.
21. He is the best pub quiz member you can have on your team.
22. Another of his MANY goals is to visit every county in the US. Be warned if you take a road-trip with him.
23. In 1975-1976 he planted trees along the entirety of the Northwestern coast.
24. His favorite Christmas present as a kid was a long bow. He snuck down early to open it, and his mom sat with him the whole time he learned to string it.
25. He has been perfecting his oatmeal cookie recipe for over thirty years, and every time they’re delicious.
    
26. He’s willing to take directions from Liverpool teen delinquents, or any other stranger for that matter, but rarely from the people in the car with him.
27. In the red Subaru, it was common to have The Judds ‘Heartland’ tape playing on repeat.
    
28. In the army his nickname was “Fluff” as Lori refused to starch his uniform, informing him he could do it if he wanted.
29. One of his favorite stories is “The Ledge” by Lawrence Sargent Hall.
30. He’s a massive history buff, specifically US early history.
31. He’s a great tipper.
32. Every Christmas, since I can remember and probably before, he buys roses for the women in his life.
33. He has handled more coyotes than anyone else in the world.
34. He wears cowboy boots when he dresses up for an event.
35. He took the storyteller Bil Lepp on a hike in Tennessee, only to go rolling down the hill narrowly missing a forgotten mine shaft, something that seems taken directly from one of Bil’s stories.
36. At age three, his mother bought him his first back pack which he credits to his love of hiking to this day.
37. He loves to eat anchovies.
38. He taught me how to steer a car at age six on the country back roads of Utah.
39. He is the only person I know who was telling the truth when they said, “I just had the worst drivers license photo taken.” If only the DMV would have let him keep it as a party conversation starter.
40. He calls flat caps Brian Bewsie hats after a friend from elementary school.
41. He hiked the Sierra Nevada Trail with Steve Nellis at age 17.
42. The first time he grounded Shannon he took her fishing.
43. He says Lori won him over when her response to him saying he was having a bad day was her bringing him a watermelon to brighten his day.
44. By all accounts, he should have a Guinness World Record for the number of times he has consecutively watched the movie “Lonesome Dove”.
    
45. The first time he met Lori was at a group outing for pizza, sitting next to her he didn’t say an entire word to her until he left. He slipped a coupon to Ed’s pizza to her and said, “Keep this to remember me by.”
46. When on a cross country trip with his friends at age 20, they found themselves in Mexico at a gas station and he confused the word Cuanto with Como, telling the attendant “I eat a lot of gasoline.” Instead of asking, how much is the gasoline.
47. He makes the most refreshing malt milkshakes.
48. When we were out of control as kids (and in public), he would sternly say, “Do I need to take you to the car.” Shannon and I still have no idea what would have happened in the car, his tone was enough to get us to fall in line.
49. He lives by the principle of non-interference always telling his girls, “You can do what you want.” Supporting us every step of the way.
50. He always says, “It never hurts to have a little cash on you,” right before he ends a visit with Shannon or I, handing us a twenty-dollar bill.
51. He is not a gambler, but he use to take me on special drives across the Idaho boarder to get scratch cards as a kid.
52. He attended the 2017 National Science March in DC with his brother-in-law Ron.
53. He has three brothers and one sister.
54. He was quoted in Rolling Stone Magazine.
55. He is famously known for sending a memo to the entirety of the Bureau of Land Management five minutes before his official retirement, requesting they return to their mission.
56. At Easter he always carved a lamb out of butter for the family brunch, complete with curly butter wool.
57. He was a wrestler in high school.
58. In his teens, his favorite song was “Runaway” by Del Shannon.
59. He always has a frozen glass in the freezer for those days you need your thirst quenched.
60. Before Shannon was two, he was able to balance her standing in the palm of his hand.
    
61. His astrological symbol is the Crab, which “suggests the meticulous and protective nature of the sensible...”
62. Within the Chinese Zodiac he is under the year of the Rat, “with strong intuition and quick response, they easily adapt themselves to a new environment.”
63. One of his all time favorite songs is (Ghost) Riders in the Sky.
64. His early college friends are Waren and Pat, they all worked together at the Jack in the Box, and they are still in touch today.
65. Stan does NOT cuss.
66. He asked Lori’s father for her hand in marriage while fixing a tire for him.
67. When you notice he’s getting anxious to leave a restaurant, protect your beer, he will down your beer to get to the next adventure.
68. He’s known in our family for constantly quoting to us, “It’s not the outcome, it’s the process.”
69. His new saying to his daughters has become, “You’ll probably find I’m more right now than I use to be.” For some reason it makes me laugh!
    
70. Stan Olmstead was born July 3, 1948 in Dover, Ohio!

 

Happy 70^th Birthday Dad!!!

To anyone reading this who knows my Dad, fill free to add something you know about him with a comment.

Home...

If only the sun could shine as bright outside as the yellow curtain that radiates in the steam of hot showers. Barometric pressure falling for ease of breath. Fearing daily routines and obligations, while searching to find a place to ignite the creative spark into flames.

The house transforms daily. Exterior worn by weather, stripping of paint. Molding gnawed by squirrels teeth. Broken windows taped with black duct tape to retain stability and resist wind. The framing creeks, and stairs sound when walked upon. Hardened orange glue coats the shower walls, protection against water damage. Light shines through frosted windows, muting and comforting the imperfection contained within. Shampoo and conditioner bottles line the shelf next to the tub. They aren’t designer, instead soaps and cleansers purchased on a budget. Beauty products retained since high school, with updated bobby pins and old glasses speckle the ambiance. Hot water from pipes cleanses and washes away the past. Brushes stick, putting everything back into place. The mirrors reflect the hope of possible change showing limitations in time. Gray hairs surprise the display, each earned and intimidating. Speaking of youth slipping, but the house doesn’t believe in such superficial notions.

Early 80s style linoleum, cream in color with browned diamonds, make boxed patterns. The tub is new. Installed specifically to sale. Incomplete and functioning. Three holes in the ceiling show peaping light from attic. A hidden place to explore, uninsulated, but curious all the same.

Spiders roam without fear or inhibition. Nights wakened by tickling legs on cheek, chin, and chest. They don’t admire the hardwood floors or victorian trimmed windows. They gravitate to travel across flesh, anticipating a treat of a hungry mosquito in mid bite.

The words asbestos and lead or used in the three stories. Ten foot tall ceilings and unlimited space take away all worry. Mannequin arms drape the floor waiting to lend a hand. Music fills each and every room by instruments and technology. One gas fireplace is the only form of heat for seven rooms. At night, sleeping bags and knitted hats are required. Socks to cover cold toes.  Still, the coffee scenting the kitchen in the morning is inviting like a Folgers commercial at Christmas. Deer skulls ornament the shelves, a bright yellow daisy, the eye for one, trying to peer upon the rusting silhouette of a woman’s torso decorating the extend front porch.  

1911 built and the home still expresses those contained within. Splashes of differing green on shingles, banisters, and trim. Three struggling individuals, building their lives through passions, desires, dreams.  A location and time to repair, create, shape. A place to call home.

Finding One's Wings

 


Guided by candle lantern
And sky of night
Peaking upon starlight
Ave take flight


 


Once, there was a young girl who was lost. She would constantly wander the land, but she could not remember her home. When she reached a village, she would stay for awhile. People told her to settle down, find stability, meet a man (for she was now truly a woman, not a girl), but every evening dreams brewed inside her head. Dreams of an ocean unseen, a city not yet explored, a forest of soft pine.

By morning, she would be gone--her feet taking a new path.

On one such day, the girl found herself completely alone. She was low on provisions and chill air bit into her bones. To comfort herself she began to whistle a small tune. A tune she had always known, but had never placed upon her lips. As soon as the notes hit the air, the sound echoed on the trees, and she heard mixed in the song a rustling by a near tree. Moving closer to it, a small quail, holding a small stick in its beak, jumped upon her path and stopped quite abruptly to look into her eyes. Seeing the girl was not dangerous, the quail dropped its stick into her bag and slowly walked the path again and the girl followed.

In time, the girl and the quail reached a large lake and they sat beside it to admire the water and their reflections upon it.  The girl placed her lips right to the waters edge and whistled her comforting tune and small ripples shivered on the lake's surface. From its depths a mallard duck emerged, its head glinting bright green. The mallard nestled itself to the girl's side and she lightly touched the mallard's green plume and emeralds dropped from the feathers into her bag. The girl whistled her tune to thank the two birds for their gifts and the notes wrapped around the light dew beginning to coat the forest floor when a rooster’s crow was added to the mix.

Pecking at the earth the rooster strutted its way to the girl, and dropped a kernel of corn held within its beak into the girls open bag. The girl cocked her head to the rooster in a warm affection way only to notice the sun was beginning to set, hints of violet spread across the sky, and she must continue on her way. By try as she might, the girl could not find away to cross the lake. Its water continued with no end in sight.

She was blocked.

Saddened, she sat with her new friends under a nearby pine tree and began to cry. Her tears fell to the ground, coating the needles nearby. But her tears stopped when the rhythm of her tune was struck upon the air as a rat-a-tat-tat sound from above. 

Perched in the tree was a woodpecker, hitting its beak against the trunk. To keep the bird motivated, the girl whistled added her voice to the sound of his work. In what seemed like no time at all, the tree fell into the lake's water allowing her and her friends to cross half the distance. They walked to the rhythm of her tune, and when they reached the end of the tree’s limbs a large swan was waiting to glide the party across.

Night had taken over, but the girl was able to catch movement in the sky. A large barn owl swept across the sky. With each stretch of its wings, stars sparked. As the owl began to descend, his wing caught a falling star that dropped as a diamond into the girl's bag. 

The owl landed deftly by the girl’s feet. His large eyes glowed bright, and the girl saw it held a fish in its talons. Taking the stick gifted her by the quail, a rock from the earth, and the emerald of the mallard, the girl was able to make a fire. With the water of the lake, the rooster’s kernel of corn, and the fish brought by the owl, the girl made a stew to feed herself and all her new found friends. 

In thanks, all the birds helped to build a nest to fit their weary companion. They settled by her side, sang her song to the stars, and the warmth of their feathers against her cheek made her drift quickly to sleep.

Her dreams were vivid.

Each of her new friends guided her and gave her advice as they traveled farther in the night. The quail urged her to appreciate the path, the mallard suggested she always continue to dive to new depths. Rooster encouraged her always to crow with her own voice. Woodpecker said there is always a way around what you think bars you. Swan spoke that grace is found within those who are willing to endure, and Owl showed her there is nothing to fear in darkness for beauty is always present. 

And then a stranger joined the crew. Tall and grand, the bird could only be described as an Emperor refined in a black and white suit. The Emperor kissed the girl’s hand and bowed before her. He provided her a glowing lantern and told her to find her true flock, for with them is your heart.

When the girl awoke, she was no longer in her nest, but standing before a village. Her new friends had gone, but the memory of her dream lingered like a drifting feather. With one step the girl heard her tune whistled from another person's lips. The girl searched for the player of the song and came upon a woman seated by a fire. The girl whistled the tune in unison with the woman, and then she decided to speak.

“I don’t bring much, but I have one small diamond to give if you would let me stay in your village.”

Hearing the girl’s voice the woman turned to the girl. “Your being here is worth more than any jewel you could give.” The woman wrapped her arms around the girl. Instantly the girl felt as a blue jay flying, her wings brushing the tops of clouds. 

“I will always support your wings." The woman said smiling. "Welcome home, my precious daughter.”

***

Writers Notes: At Christmas I presented my mom with a gift--a print from the wonderful and amazing Utah artist Darrell Driver. For me, the image represented our combined love for stories. A picture I thought would remind my mom (on the days that writers block occurs) to stay whimsical, our best ideas are the ones that just happen to flutter by. Plus, my mom likes birds. 

But I wanted to do more with this gift. As  the print was visual, I wanted to place a few words to it for her. As I began to write this tale, it took a different direction than I had originally intended. Somehow it went from the opening chapter of a possible fantasy novel, to a folktale with my mom's wedding ring finding its way into the mix (hence the emerald and diamonds, which somehow--miraculously without any fortune-telling--also represent my sister's and my birthstones). I like the stories simplicity from such a playful and elegant piece of art. I hope you like it Mom, and I encourage anyone else who has read to this point to check out the artists website and enjoy the image that got me to write this piece.

Dear Santa,

You are about to begin your travels in the sky. Spreading cheer and joy around the world. Here, in Tennessee, I'm spending time with the folks. We have thus far battled in two games of Scrabble, and two games of Yahtzee. Dad and I picked out a tree that Mom and I then decorated (Mom more so than me, plus it was fun to watch her reach the higher branches with the decorations attached to cooking tongs). Dad proved Mom and I are the same height. When I was adamant I must be taller, he had us stand back to back and balanced the Scrabble boards on both our heads and exclaimed, "You're the same height!" This is my family.

It's been awhile since I last wrote, and a lot has taken place. Between the decision to move to a new state and start new, the process of finding myself in a new city, and all the dreams I still have for myself at the moment and in the future, life has become a bit of a whirlwind in the best possible way. There are too many people to thank individually for the new adventure I find myself on, but I would like to share a few things with you before you make your travels.

As you are going over your list and checking it twice, please consider providing a little extra cheer to the Delta agent who performed a holiday miracle of finding a reasonably priced and time efficient flight when my flight on Frontier had been canceled. He truly made my Christmas by allowing me the time to spend with my folks.

Also, make a note that Jamie and Isaac deserve a few extra treats to brighten the coming year. They opened their home and personalities to me. It is such a joy to find people who want the best for others, who embrace the need for change, and are supportive of another individual and welcome that person's individuality (even when that person's individuality consists of a 37 year old who believes in Santa).

When you find yourself in the sky above Bakersfield, CA can you make your sleigh bells ring just a bit louder so Sis can remember all those times in our youth we waited for you to arrive. She'll know I'm thinking about her that way, and I wouldn't have been able to make the leap I did this year without her support and encouragement.

If you head to Portland, OR after CA it would be greatly appreciated if you could stop in and say hi to Sinatra--maybe you could leave her a small toy mouse. I miss her curling up with me in bed, and she has been the best of cat for the 16+ years since she chose to be in my life.

To all my friends in SLC, provide them with the gift of a blanket of snow so they can cuddle up together. Maybe provide the hot coco for them to sip on while they tell stories and memories of all the times spent together (I'd say to leave them High West Whiskey, but I don't want you to get in trouble with any of the strange Utah liquor laws--wouldn't that be a scene--Santa fined by the UABC).

As for when you arrive tonight in Tennessee, the folks and I will be finishing our traditional fondue dinner. I know I'm not supposed to see you or your sleigh, but this Christmas all I ask is that you bring my family a lasting memory. Maybe, while we're going over a story of a Christmas past shared together, your reindeer could entice a doe deer into the back yard for us to gaze in wonder and be at peace.

That is what you have brought me every Christmas. A moment of peace to be with the people I love, to say thank you to friends who have become family. For that Santa, I am always in your debt. Thank you for all the years (and many more to come) of believing in the good people can bring, and the smiles and laughter shared with all those who have been a part of my life.

And now I must sign off. Mom wants me to bake my Ginger Snap cookies. I'll save a few for you to enjoy tonight. Safe travels Santa.

Merry Christmas!

Denver

Three Weeks and Counting...

For nineteen years, I have called Salt Lake City my home. In three weeks, the car will be packed. The front seat will hold a pillow for my sixteen year old cat to curl up and rest, my major furniture will be stored at a friends house (along with maybe six boxes of books, the other six I feel need to travel the road with me) and I'll be on a twelve hour drive that will be the beginning of a new adventure. (As a bookworm I call this my new chapter.)

To answer all the questions up front:
No, I don't have an apartment as of yet.
Nor do I have a job (again I stress), YET.
I am not doing this because of a beau.
I am not going to where the young retire to stay in the woods and live off the land. Though, the idea of farm to table is definitely something I look forward to partake in more.

No, to all the questions people ask, and when I answer a final question is presented in baffled tones, "So, why are you doing this?"

True, Salt Lake City is my home. There will always be a part of me that loves this city more than anywhere else I go. I began living here before I graduated high school from that remote rural town in the North East. I received my first college degree and met my best friend going to Westminster College. I found many friendships here, and rekindled old ones. I found love and loss in Salt Lake City. I took a leap and was able to attain my second degree by living in this state. I gained experience in all the professions I have held, though none more so than the last two organizations I have worked for. Salt Lake City gave me an apartment I have lived in for fourteen years, and I've become so familiar with the city streets that I have no problem dance-walking around this city until the wee hours of the morning.

So why am I moving to Portland, Oregon?

As a woman who finds herself to be strong and independent, I have always told myself I can make it no matter where I am. I guess it's time for me to remove the security blanket and prove this to myself. I want that challenge, and heading back towards the North West where my life began seems appropriate for some reason.

This isn't easy. I'm nervous and scared (for lack of a better description) shitless. That being said, I'm also excited about what this change of environment might provide. The opportunities. And yes, Mom, I can hear your voice now ringing in my ears, "We have options."

I'm excited to see how I react. I know there will be times I have to stick my neck out. I know it will take hard work to accomplish all I feel Portland provides.

I have three weeks. Three weeks and counting to enjoy the home I have loved for the last nineteen years. Three weeks and counting to anticipate the journey to a new fireside.

Three weeks... And counting...

UAF... You are my Festival Family

Four and an half years... Five Festivals... A family I will always cherish.

Here are a few things you might not know about the Utah Arts Festival:

1. It takes a full year (if not longer) to plan the four day event each June.
2. There are six staff members, over 50 coordinators, and 1,000+ volunteers that make the Festival.
3. It takes a full week to set-up the Utah Arts Festival.
4. Each staff member and coordinator work approximately 100 hours during the Festival week.
5. We have four days to play.
6. Two days to take down (including removing every piece of blue marking tape off the pavement).
7. There's one week to recover, before we start all over again.

Last weekend, the Utah Arts Festival celebrated its 40th anniversary with over 160 visual artists, 90 stage performances, stilt walkers from the UK (Neighbourhood Watch), and the amazing children's Art Yard, Urban Arts, and Makers tent. Having worked for this organization has been a pleasure. It's because of the fantastic work the staff members and coordinators do for this Festival, that I have the courage to set off on new adventures and build my career in a new location.

As I begin to prepare my journey to the Northwest, I want to say thank you to each and every individual who makes this Festival such an experience for the Utah community. If it was possible, I would write individual letters to each and every person. It would take over a year to write the words properly, and I feel each of you would say to experience life in the moment rather than reflect on the past.

But reflection is sometimes needed.

Thank you to Mason Fetzer, for this year's Festival moment. I felt like a fairy in Never-Never land walking through the aspen grove you painted using 3D technology.  Thank you to Henry for always seeing the vision of what this Festival is about and pushing the boundaries of Makers. Doc, you always make magic happen. Dancing to the music at this year's Festival was such a treat.

Tyler, you made it possible for me to experience more Festivals. Thank you for walking me to the First Aid tent my first year so I didn't die from heat exhaustion. To Rich Nicholes, nothing can express my true gratitude for your introduction of my performance on the Big Mouth stage on Sunday. To my Festival family, seeing the rows upon rows of purple shirts for my performance was so special to say the least (though I'm still questioning who was running the Festival during my performance). Rich thanks for always smiling and being there at the Amphitheater stage to enjoy the music. I will always cherish the sound of you singing Supermodel to me.

To the tech crew, the brew crew, the stage crew, box office, earth team, and our all mighty crab crew: the Festival wouldn't be the same without you; for that matter, I wouldn't be the same without you. Art Yard, Face Painting, and Mad Hatter, I bow to you and what you accomplish every year. Each and everyone of you have      made me smile, helped maintain my sanity, and made me realize I can make it wherever I go. You are my family!

Finally, to the amazing staff I have had the pleasure to work with for the last few years: I hope you realize how amazing I find you. Susan, it was a delight getting to know you this year. Your charisma and smile are beautiful. Tennille you are a rock and a friend. Thanks for sharing our cubbyhole together. Amanda, you are a woman to be reckoned with. I so appreciate the support and inspiration you always provide. Aimee, you are a spitfire in the best of ways. Somehow I feel you will always know (you know I'd place this in different lingo--but I'll just wait for the text). Pat, what can I say but thank you for all the laughter, the music when the office got to quiet, and the pure strength to put the Festival together.

And to Lisa. 

Lisa, Lisa, Lisa...What can I say? Your commitment, drive, and passion for this Festival are unmatched. You gave a fellow swimmer a chance, and made me feel a part of a spectacular team. Thanks for your continued
support in all I do.

To my Festival family: I will miss you! Though I feel we will see each other again, know that you are always in my heart. And it's not that far of a drive to Portland.

This is...

Word, after word, afterward...

Taking the long walk home,
not knowing its locale.
The discomfort, confusion, and uncomfortable laughter becoming natural
Mind on overdrive
Repeating scene upon scene
Dreams drilled to depletion

Wishful thinking beckons to be applied
Nutrients cling on last limb
Madness creates rationality

A story
Guides feet to place one in front of the other

Pursuits lost and left behind as drowned
Tea leaves stuck against saucer wanting milk for cats tongue
Lost within illusion
Stuggling against action
Walking...
Unable to decide, unwilling to let go

Denver's 36 Life Lessons...

If there is one thing I know in life, it's that a person should appreciate each and every year. So in recognition of my birthday, here are 36 lessons I've learned in life up to this moment. 

1. Porcupines can be your friends. 

When I was a kid my Dad took me out to the mountains in Washington, and I was able to pet a porcupine. All those spikes and bites won't hurt you, if you know how to handle them. I took this into my life and recognize, at times, the people I love may not be on their best behavior. I love them anyways.

2. Dancing in public (even if done poorly) should happen at least once a week. 

Having a bad day, dance it out. No matter how people look at you, I'm sure you will smile. 

3. Waking up to a nose nuzzle, from the person you care for, is the best way to start a morning. 

You can't disagree with me on this on. Even if that person is waking you from a deep sleep and the best dream you have ever had in your life, the recognition of a real human being next to you and showing you affection, beats everything else.  

4. No matter how old you are, always believe in Santa.

Every year, I write a letter to Santa. I will never forget hearing the sleigh-bells as a child, and I won't let anyone tell me Santa doesn't exist. 

5. You have to face your fears head on.

I'm ok with not jumping out of a plane in my life. I'm talking about those fears that seem so minute you don't recognize they're changing your daily routine. Take the time to figure out why your scared. 

6. Always listen to the child in you.

Whether we are willing to admit it or not, we all knew who we were when we were a kid. Being told adults are responsible-know-it-alls, we thought we would grow into something different. We don't. 

7. Be creative whenever you can, with whatever time you have.

You may not have all the time in the world, but creativity is a necessity. At times you can create the most amazing things with only 15 minutes.  

8. A good meal always tastes better with a splash of spirited conversation.

My family knows food. We know that it is the company you share food with that you will remember your life through.

9. Appreciate your name.

It's not always easy to have the name "Denver," but I do what I can with it. 

10. Listen to peoples stories.

One of the best moments in my life was when I was able to conduct an oral history for a woman of 98. I learned to listen. In merely six months, I was able to connect with a human being and learn how important others life lessons are able to become your own. 

11. Sometimes you just have to sit and watch trees grow.

Take a moment to breath. In this fast paced world we live in, sometimes we forget it's ok to sit and do nothing but breath and take in the scenery.

12. "It's not the outcome, it's the process." 

Thanks to my Dad for this one.

13. When giving someone homework, make sure you can do it yourself.

I reached one of those life long goals. I'm an instructor. If your students give you homework, it's best that you complete it, or they have full measure to tell you they don't want to do the work you assign. 

14. At times you may feel as though you made the wrong choice, all you can do is hope you get another chance. 

The first time around, the probability is that you will make mistakes. Mistakes in the actual choice, or a mistake in how you handle making the choice. As much as this may eat at you in life, learn from your mistakes and move forward.

15. Laughter is always the best medicine.

Appreciate the sound of a true laugh coming from your whole body. When you truly laugh, you don't care what others think, you are merely in the moment and enjoying life.

16. Always ask why?

I've found it shocking how many people accept things, versus questioning and processing them in their own mind. Question everything in life, and arrive at your own decisions. It's ok if others think of it a different way. What matters is that you are thinking for yourself.

17. Find your own path.

Sometimes your feet know your path better than your mind. Let your feet guide you and enjoy the journey.

18. Provide people second chances. Sometimes they may need a third or fourth.

It's not that you have to give everyone a second chance when they have done something to hurt you, but you do have to recognize that you meet people at points in your life and each individual can, and will, change with time. Appreciate the good moments with people in your life and remember that they may find their way back to your life when you need them. Grudges over petty issues are never a way to remember people.

19. Sometimes you're the one who is wrong.

This is probably the most difficult to realize, but once you accept that at moments you might not be right--you learn. 

20. Travel often, and see what you can.

Luckily, I have had the great opportunity to travel. Through my adventures I have met amazing people and seen sites that have inspired much of my writing. I wouldn't be the same person if I hadn't travelled, and I urge you to travel as much as you can--recognizing that journey may only be a few minutes from your home.

21. Use your voice.

As I tell my students, your thoughts have value; place them into action. Even if what you have to say doesn't seem important, it's your voice and speaking it is imperative. 

22. "We've got options." 

Mom you know I love ya. And if I can think of an odder moment of you describing the fact that we needed a sign (aka. a whiskey bottle cascading across Interstate 15), well I can't think of one... or maybe I can, but those times will be for another moment. 

23. If you ask someone for a cigarette, and they don’t give it to you, they may become your best friend.

miss georgia b. you know what I’m talking about here. Meeting you is the best moment in my life. Our friendship holds a very special place in my heart. Thanks for all the long conversations, celebrations, and journeys. 

24. You can live off of grilled cheese sandwiches, or bowls of Cheerios, for a month—but it is ill-advised.

Our life path doesn't always include the lucrative cash flow one would like. Appreciate what you have, and get creative on how to use the minimal funds that may be available to you.

25. Read, read, read… And join a book group.

I love books. As Neil Gaiman has stated many times, fiction (books) allow you to step into another persons shoes, have empathy. As much as I love books, I love my book group more. Actual people to talk through the ideas presented in words creates a whole new dynamic to the story--your story. My book group has brought me new friends, laughter, and interaction. I thank the day when Madison asked me to join. 

26. Don’t waste the fizzy bubbles!

If you're reading this (and you know who you are), thanks for the reconciliation.

27. Radiate in your dorky/quirky qualities. 

You are who you are. Don't hide it from others. Appreciate the fact that you find passion in something and go where it takes you.

28. Don’t listen to people who say you can’t do something.

The hardest lesson to learn, and the one that you have to learn repeatedly. 

29. Be willing to meet new people, even if it means your heart may be broken.

The key word here is “may.” Yeah, it sucks when relationships don’t work out, but that doesn’t mean you should shut yourself away from the human race. 

30. Share your ideas. You're the only one who can.

This should go along with "Use your voice." 

31. Allow yourself to step into the dark, but always remember the light is a mere switch away. 

It is OK to feel sad. Experience all the emotions a human can, but remember you don't have to stay there. It is your choice. 

32. Doors are only shut until opened.

Notice how I used a bit of Harry Potter wisdom on you there. Though our doors may have locks on them, it only takes a knock to get the door to open. You have to be willing to put yourself at the doorstep though. 

33. As much as you learn, attempt to teach.

Being granted the opportunity to pass on the knowledge I have to students has been a great gift the last couple years. The saying is true, you don't truly learn until you teach. I'm happy to say my students are surpassing the teacher. 

34. Appreciate your city, and know it contains parts you haven’t explored yet.

Salt Lake City continues to surprise me. As much as I want to see how a different city might suit me, SLC will always be home. 

35. Wine, and or coffee, will get you through any day.

Treat your bartenders and baristas well.... Need I say more.

36. Celebrate every birthday, and know the next year will be filled with more adventure.

DIRT and my DAD...

So last night, I placed my name in the hat again at The Bee. And yet again, my name was not called. But I will keep trying to tell my story (and I must thank the 15 students who persuaded me to tell my the story to them before I left class). In the meantime, here is me telling my story toward the theme: DIRT. Please don't take offense to the foul language.

Currently preparing for the next Bee, June 18th at the Leonardo themed: The Wild.

Story Time...

In December, I attended (as a listener) the first ever Bee:True Stories from the Hive. As an avid supporter of storytelling, I told myself it was time to put my stories out there for the world to hear. So I prepared a story for the February event themed attachment. I was the first to place my name into the hat, and I sat on pins and needles every time a storyteller was finished with their tell wondering if my name would be called. Unfortunately, it was not. So, I share my story with you here as I begin preparing for April's themed event: Dirt.

Disregard the instructor's misspelling on the board... Instead, listen to the students...

Another quarter is complete.

Each quarter, I finish English Composition off with a quote from Winston Churchill.

The words to follow are my students (taken directly from the notes on the board) with a couple puzzle pieces added to communicate their message in a unified form:


History will be kind to me for I intend to write it. -- Winston Churchill

In the beginning, take control. In order to understand what you can be, evaluate what you listen to. Live your life, and recognize it is through the process of making mistakes one creates the stories future generations will learn from.

Everyday you should challenge yourself. Challenge yourself to get along with peoples quirks. Take a breath when needed and remember some things should be left forgotten, others expanded upon to create your future and the world around you.

Knock on opportunities door instead of waiting for it to come your way. Allow yourself to be happy by letting go of the past. Have confidence in yourself: Speak loudly and proudly, capture life in anyway you can, and enjoy it--no matter what happens.

By maintaining a positive attitude you will continue on the right path. Leave the fear behind and success will be achieved. Take action to learn all you can. Who knows, by doing these things you'll be the one writing the history books.

Words Summon...

Today was a special day. For the past couple years, pen has been placed to paper in a Moleskine Classic. The blank pages allow freedom, unlike the lined notebooks that make a writer stick to uniformity. The purchase of a new journal marked the completion of the one before. It presented the notion I could leave what was written in the pages behind, start anew: fresh.

But this isn't reality. That last notebook contained many of my thoughts and ideas that I couldn't fully form into words. Secrets that continue to haunt me with their lack of clarity and structure. Ideas that never came to fruition.

As a writer, words are building blocks. Words allow the possibility to make the intangible tangible. Words provide insight and decode all that is mystic, uncertain, and difficult.

Brushing hand over binding of the journal, it mocks me. Nothing is bound, no matter how hard you try to lock the diary, the past trespasses upon the present. The words are missing. The wrapping is still smothering what I can only imagine are pristine pages. Life has become a foreign language not yet learned. All efforts to connect block to block lead to a tumbling tower, and I am left the child, sweeping the mess of LEGOs off the floor into a massive bucket. Each noun, article, and verb creating a swirl of colors. The mix intrigues me, but they are liquid with no foundation to hold them together.

And so I type. I type instead as this feels fleeting. The idea not essential to place on flesh of page.

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.

Temptations and Resolutions...

It's almost the new year, and I'm tempting fate with downtown parking at a new coffee shop. As I listen to the radio today, and see the news, I'd like to say this post is going to be all light and fluffy; I'd like to say I have grand plans for the moment the New Year is rung in; I'd like to say I have a magical kiss waiting for me when the clock strikes midnight, but reality is  sometimes the new year is a reflection of the past. It is the moments that break our hearts the most that teach us the life lessons we need for the coming year. This year has had many ups and I would say one hard down, but all in all 2014 brought many great insights to my life, and I want to remember them.

This New Year will be spent alone. I will count down the seconds to the new year and sip on a neat whiskey when the ball falls. It sounds depressing to some, but 2014 taught me it's time to focus on what I truly need in life. My needs are not extravagant. I do not need millions of dollars, I don't want a wardrobe of slim fitting clothes, I don't need to have a new gym membership or a new car; I don't want a fancy job title. All I need this year is to work on me; work on all the passions I have in my life; work on seeing more of the world and those who are in it.

And so, though I'm tempted to ask for a full time job; tempted to push my life in a new direction; tempted to pick up and move; tempted to take control, instead I will focus on what I already know. I will let my life take shape instead of attempting to mold it into perfection. This year, my resolution is to recognize that at times I may be tired, but I have so many passions and it is always time to be working on them. I will write, I will read, I will teach, I will bake, I will knit, I will be me--and enjoy every moment of it and be thankful for the friends and family I get to share it with.

To everyone....

Happy New Year!

Dear Santa...

You may be frantic right now, as it is your busiest day of the year. Hopefully, you're not where I was two days ago, having a mental break down in the grocery aisle when I realized I couldn't afford the good balsamic vinegar. (Why is it always grocery stores that make me panic?) Truthfully, my spirit for the holiday hasn't been what I hoped for this year.

But may I just tell you, no matter how the present Christmas feels--I will always believe in you!!!


I guess I just wanted to say thanks for the small (yet monumental) gifts you gave me this year:

When I was down and out, driving to work, you miraculously appeared next to my side on a bright yellow tricked-out scooter blaring the music "All I Want for Christmas is You," by Mariah Carey. That made me truly smile for the first time in months, and the ability to wave to you made me truly feel the spirit of the season, if only for a moment. And I guess all we can ask for is moments. Then, at my cookie party, you gave me my wish--I saw snow flurries cascading off the streetlamps surrounding my house at night. The street was quiet and echoed my glee as each flake tickled while melting off my nose. Finally, as I began writing this letter to you, I was able to wait for the best gift of all: My parents.

With the folks, the holiday is complete. This year, I may not have actual presents for them to unwrap, but I know our conversations around the many dinners, coffees, and couches will be the merriest of all.

Thanks Santa for showing me what this time of year is all about--the moments we get to spend together, and the ease which magic can come into your life if you let it. This Christmas, I wish you safe journeys; I wish you cleverness in your ability to sneak past traps children may have placed to catch a glimpse of you (be warned: talking robots with trip-wire string may be placed near fireplaces); I wish you all the joy and cookies you can partake in.

And may I say--I feel lucky in life that you have made your presence know to me not only in my youth, but my adulthood as well. I shall be listening for the bells of your sleigh always. The smile you bring me each and every year is the true gift.

Merry Christmas Santa!!!

D.dot

Setting the table...

It's that time we sit ourselves around a table with friends and family to give thanks. Thanks for all the people and events that take place in our lives. I am thankful for all the people who are, have been (and may no longer be) in my life. I hope each and everyone of you know this, because it should have been told to you directly.

But what about those who have been in my life, yet I've never met?

This post is a thank you to all of them. It's the imagination playing towards a feast at a table of first introductions.

Envision it. A table set for twelve. In my cramped apartment, makeshift tables (of varying heights and shapes) would be placed together accompanied by non-matching chairs with just enough space to squeeze our forms into place. The china would be eclectic plates and silverware all found from the DI achieving miscellaneous patterns, with wine glasses of differing colors set to their side. Two Red Rock Beer growlers would be on the table, cleaned and replenished with ice cold water in the effort to maintain, but not exceed, a nice holiday buzz.

All the typical fixings would be present: Roasted Turkey, Mom's scrumptious mashed potatoes, my famous and fresh cranberry sauce, homemade white rolls perfect to dollop butter on top and eat whole. I'd prepare other dishes as well, on the off chance of dietary needs: Vegetarian lasagna, crispy Brussels sprouts in orange reduction, a fine kale salad, and of course sweet potatoes. And god forbid, lets not forget the dessert: Pumpkin Pie, zabaglione drizzled strawberries, and few pieces of chocolate to compliment the evening coffee.

At the table, conversation would begin awkwardly, but would build to a rousing chatter. Sitting around the table would be J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Jimmy Kimmel, Tina Fey, Jack Zipes, Tim Burton, Francesca Lia Block, Ira Glass, Liz Weir, and Eddie Vedder.

Each would bring a unique perspective to the table, which I feel would compliment and balance one another. As a proper host I would thank them all for the times they have supported me with out knowing, directed and guided me without knowing, made me laugh or cry: Amanda Palmer would get the dinner started by finding the perfect moment to hasten my rambling gratitude by asking for the rolls to be passed. J.K. Rowling would start a deep conversation asking Neil Gaiman about his recent writings on the issues faced by Syrian refugees and would add her insights from when she worked for Amnesty International. Jack Zipes would bring their discussion to folklore and culture, and present a classic tale matching the holiday, while Tim Burton would listen and then twist the tale on its head, and Liz Weir would present a traditional Irish folktale that would take all our breaths away. Jimmy Kimmel would break the deep thoughts by laughing, and Tina Fey would bring a witty and natural insight to his laughter, which would make the whole table break into unstoppable laughter. The food would be appreciated, but the conversation would be the highlight of the evening. Francesca Lia Block would provide a verbal painting on the transition from Grunge to Indie to the full circle of folk music with Eddie Vedder. Amanda Palmer and Eddie Vedder would entertain the group with renditions of songs with the aide of a ukulele, while I cleared the plates and set the table for dessert. All the while Ira Glass would be connecting our stories to those he has met or heard about on his various journeys. And then I would see who wanted to match their Harry Potter trivia to the creator herself (all questions created by self of course).

J.K. Rowling would put me in my place, while I finished the last bite of pumpkin pie on my plate, and I would bow and smile at the same time. As the group would leave my small home, I would thank my newly met friends for a memorable evening. I would hug each and everyone of them for all they provided to me and all that will come. I would say thanks. Thanks to every moment, every wish I have had in my life, thanks for living and learning. I would close the door and know everyday is a new journey with the possibility of setting new stages to life: creating each and everyone of our stories.

It is the story that is important: the reflection, celebration and moments that make us feel alive.

Two Weeks...

The little reminders are stabbing. They take my breath away for a moment, and then the hollowness of the situation takes place in the stomach. But as his coffee cup, still and stationary on the kitchen shelf, says: nothing is ever black and white.

I said my peace and asked for his hand for one last dance. In the morning I turned from his goodbye, not from him. Of course it would be this way. He made his decision, and I made mine. He went for opportunity; I chose conviction. His actions set distance; My words took the affinity to a close. Both free from communication, free from sight, free from ties--not from thought.

If only it could have been black and white.

Pish Posh

Recently I  read an article that scientifically stated that by sitting I am killing myself. Yesterday, listening to NPR, I heard from various researchers on how boredom slowly kills an individual. It seems as though every time I turn around, there is a new report on what I shouldn't be doing. And they come from the most unlikely of places.

The report on sitting was included as a blog article I should read as an instructor looking for work. The NPR report, well that came right at the moment I was heading to the park to visit my friend and her daughter.

Here's my question? What can a living person do to stay alive? FOREVER!

Really people, lets think about this; how many articles have you seen recently of what you shouldn't do? And how many have changed your behavior? Whether it's coffee, alcohol, smoking, red meat, fish, vitamins, or that piece of candy you have stashed away in the back of your freezer for a rainy day... it's not the item that will kill you, but the fact that you're a living entity that has to go through every reaction of being human which includes indulgence, ridiculous decisions, and every now and then a few moments of silence.

If I can't sit, if a mere few minutes of doing nothing is going to take minutes off my life everyday, if staring at a computer for hours on end is going to deplete the number of breaths an individual is granted, then I will say this: there is nothing I can do. Part of my job is sitting for hours on end, staring at a computer, and being bored. It's the moments I take after this that are important, I delight in a well cooked meal, prepared at home; I enjoy the sun on my back while walking and listening to whatever dancing play list I have on my iphone after a day of work; and you know what, a drink with a friend will always bring a smile to my face. And for that matter, sitting; researching my class or the next writing project in my mind, that makes me feel delighted. So if everything is going to kill me, I'm going to do my best to enjoy the life I have.