We The Campbells

Reading Time: 3 minutes

In light of the holiday passed, I thought I’d write out some thoughts on racism.

The first think I’d like to say is that almost every term in the whole of the racist argument is bogus. For example: African-American, White-Hispanic-American, Latin-American. When you are born in America, you assume the title American, no attachments, we’re all americans.

Heritage is a great thing, don’t get me wrong, but in the present, you’re an American with the same amount of opportunity as your fellow American, the naming of groups of people just delves to deeply in to the caste system. We’re all created equal, right?

More bogus terms in the racist argument: Race, and any derivatives thereof.

The problem I have with the word “race” is that it just separates the people. (Dictionary Definition: each of the major divisions of humankind, having distinct physical characteristics)

Major divisions? Are you kidding me? Look up Ebony and Ivory, listen to the lyrics. We sing that song, wondering why people can’t stop hating people different than them, and we still use the word “race”? It’s definition shows that it’s meant to separate. It denotes physical characteristics as if we’re animals.

Ah, yes, this species is white, they’re good at being privileged, rich slave-masters that hate on this other species, the black ones that are only peaceful and always the victim. Very, very evolutionist.

I don’t want to get into the politics of the situation, because the issue is much more personal. The word “race”, though, is what causes the entire racism problem.

No, it’s not about the color of your skin. Black, white, yellow, red, it doesn’t matter. Everyone is human. The stark contrast, like black on white, between skin colors is not the focus of this. It’s about one man respecting another. One man treating another as he would treat himself.

The issue isn’t whether or not people with black skin should be equal in America (that’s  already been determined a big fat yes). The problem is that people see black-skinned people as different, and think that because they don’t look alike they’re not actually human.

Dehumanization is causing problems on both sides, and it goes both ways. When people say Blacks, or Whites, they’re referring to their stereotypical image of the other race.

When the argument is removed from a personal relationship with the person/people in question, and it’s turned into a legal battle over wether or not the minority race is being treated equally, a black man can refer to Blacks, as one person. Blacks, in his mind, is a guy that has been beaten down, abused, and mistreated, and someone who he wants to free and allow to flourish. Meanwhile Whites, to him, is a man who takes advantage of the majority vote, and abuses Blacks, shamelessly taking advantage of him at every opportunity, in every arena.

You can’t lump all of the people with black skin into one “race”, just as you can’t do it with white-skinned people. We’re all individual. If I were black, I know I’d want to be known for my personality, a collection of traits that only I possess.

No, the issue isn’t that a long time ago people cared what color you were, nor that a long time ago people beat you, depending on what color you were. It’s not that simple.

The issue is man to man; respect, or disrespect. The issue is that people don’t overlook something as… uh, skin-deep… as skin. The issue is the enmity we have towards fellow men who are precious in the eyes of God, even as we are. The issue is the trespasses made by both sides (sides created by stupid, stupid, stupid politicians) that pit brothers against brothers.

This issue isn’t  clean-cut, as you can see. It’s definitely not black and white, right and wrong.

Reading Time: 3 minutes

High above the world small droplet of water fell, it fell with several other, and as it fell, it was crystalized.

The small piece of snow–beautiful despite the fact that no one could make out its intricate design–was called Mervin. Mervin had been in the atmosphere for a while, waiting for his chance. He knew he was small, but he knew he could make it to the ground with the others. He didn’t worry about that.

As he drifted downwards, Mervin looked around him. There were dazzling SnowFlakes all around him. Each different, with his or her own pattern. Mervin was amazed at all the shapes, designs, and sizes.

“Good luck!” he called, with his small voice, to a strong, square-looking HeFlake. There wasn’t a reply.

“You look great!” he said to a especially intricate SheFlake. She looked at him, and didn’t respond.

Mervin sighed. No one thought anything about him. They didn’t offer any praise, or wish him goodwill. He didn’t blame them, though. Even if they could see him, there wasn’t anything too special about him–he knew–but he didn’t let that discourage him… too badly, anyway.

The Wind was picking up, and he swung Mervin around with the others. Mervin wasn’t effected as much as the Cliques of SnowFlakes—the clusters almost forming larger SnowFlakes—they were more easily blown around. The Wind picked up the speed, and swirled them all around. The Cliques fluttered around in the blizzard, too busy to be bothered. Mervin tried to flutter into one of the Cliques, attempting to join one. He missed all three times.

He was disheartened, but not so much as to derail his happy disposition. The Wind sorted him out, and directed him toward a colder region, and he met up with a whole storm of smaller SnowFlakes. The Wind had started howling at them, and swirling them around in big  gusts. Mervin could just make out the very tips of several pine trees.

Smack!

He stopped suddenly. The wind pressed him up against several SnowFlakes.

“Hi guys! How are you?” he asked excitedly.

“We’re awful! Stuck up here on the tree! We won’t get to do anything fun. We don’t get to take part in snowballs or snowmen. No hope falling on romantic winter strolls! We’re stuck.”

“But, guys, this is an amazing job! You should be thanking the Wind! He trusted you and me enough to give us the job!”

“But what job,” they asked, “are we doing?”

“You’re painting the trees. You help everyone see beauty in the lovable Pines. You let them know there’s a fun side to the pointy solemn Guardians of the Ground.”

A murmur of amazement rippled through the flakes, and the Wind blew another gust, carrying Mervin and some new friends away.

They were carried high in the sky, almost higher than where Mervin had fallen from. Soon the Wind changed,  blowing them down, driving them speedily towards the frozen ground. A group of smaller SnowFlakes—including Mervin—were directed off course by the Wind, and they saw the pretty lights of a small town.

Mervin was getting excited. He couldn’t wait to see where the Wind put him; what his job would be. Being the smallest snowflake, Mervin was ahead of the pack. He was able to see that there was no snow in the small little town. No snow! Just bitter cold. Mervin’s whole body felt warm.

Well, as warm as a piece of ice can feel without melting.

He quickly checked his emotion and left the rest to the wind. Mervin hoped to be caught, but he couldn’t see any people close to him. He tried to forget about it, and let the Wind do it for him. He knew the Wind would put him in the best place.

Mervin neared the ground, nearer and nearer he came, and, astonishingly, he landed. Stuck in between a small rock and the road, he was stopped.

“What?” he said. “This is it? That’s all?” Mervin tried to think positively, a strength of his, but he couldn’t see anything good about this. He was on the ground, cold and alone, but worse than that, no one could see him.

He sighed, accepting his lot. But the Wind wasn’t finished. A rush of air came from nowhere and blew Mervin straight up. The wind stopped; it was completely gone. Mervin floated downward, lazily drifting side to side.

Mervin knew that the Wind had everything in his hands now. Mervin decided to just let him take over. He spread himself as wide as possible, and then he closed his eyes.

Drifting, fluttering, sailing. Mervin heard the gasp of a little girl.

“Mommy! Mommy!” she squealed. “The first snow!”

Mervin smiled as he landed in her hand. The Wind had done it again.

Reading Time: 4 minutes

I’ve been having this conversation with my brother a lot. It starts out, “Who do you think is the best quarterback in the NFL?” It usually ends with Alex saying Russell Wilson, and/or Robert Griffin III.

I would like to point out that no quarterback can be perfect, and with that thus pointed out, I would like to attempt to combine the best parts of several of the best quarterbacks to make the perfect quarterback. This quarterback can run and pass. It can read defenses, and make the play to defeat them.

This is the perfect quarterback:

The Head: Peyton Manning. With his eyes dissecting the defense there isn’t a chance for the other team. Manning is the greatest authority regarding plays to beat the defense. With Manning’s knowledge of the game, the quarterback will be able to force defenses to think twice before daring him to run.

The Arm: Tom Brady. With Brady’s arm, the accuracy, and power will be perfect. Tom Brady has proven time and time again, that he can throw the ball to receivers who are draped in defenders. His accuracy extends to the deep ball, and he can drop  the ball into the perfect spot, and  does it on a consistent basis.

The Desire: Russell Wilson. Too short. Will never be able to see his receivers. Cannot. Can’t. No way. Wilson is fired up by all of the criticism and uses it to his advantage. The diminutive quarterback is not afraid to be hit, and always delivers in the clutch. (Excepting of course the last game where he threw the game ending interception.)

The Love of the Game: Tim Tebow. This man wants to do anything he can to help his team win. If that meant long-snapping, he’d do it. But instead he was able to pursue his dream as a quarterback. Built more like a full back though, he did what he was best at to help his team: run the ball. He’s the perfect example of a football player.

The Upper Body: Cam Newton. Cam Newton is a big boy. According to NFL.com Newton is 6′ 5″, weighing 245. I’ve seen rosters and trading cards that have his height at 6′ 6″ (I’ve actually seen 6′ 7″, too). That’s huge. To top it off he’s super strong, too. With Newton’s upper body and core strength the quarterback would be nearly impossible to tackle.

The Hips: Mike Vick. If you’ve ever watched a game that Michael Vick participated in, you’ve seen something special. Vick is a quarterback who takes advantage of a stereotype. He drops back to pass, the receivers are covered, he runs. What makes him special is his ability freeze defenders. Vick has incredible agility, and can shake his hips to fake one way, and then, a millisecond later, he flips his hips and is taking off, leaving the defender in the dust.

The Thighs: Colin Kaepernick. Watching Colin Kaepernick run is a bit comical. First he gets low to the ground and makes a few defenders miss. Then, when he’s in the open field, he straightens up and starts loping, or what looks like loping. Then you see that he’s going really fast. I’ll say two things. Colin Kaepernick has the most powerful thighs of any quarterback, and definitely the longest legs of any quarterback (Excluding Mike Glennon for definitive purposes :-)— isn’t he 6′ 8″?)

Lower Leg Agility: Robert Griffin III. Griffin is quite the athlete. He always reminds me of the few videos I’ve seen of Doug Flutie playing football. His legs, though, are far superior. Where Flutie could run, Griffin has ankle breaking cuts, and change of direction skills that are far beyond anything I’ve seen quarterbacks do. Besides that he’s pretty fast 🙂 I made the rule that you can only be in one category. So, Mike Vick is in this category too, just in spirit.

Lower Leg Stance: Drew Brees. Drew Brees is probably one of my favorite quarterbacks, he is soooooo short, but he bounces around in the pocket to see where his receivers are, then he throws the perfect ball to his receiver. The key to his success would have to be his stance. Drew Brees has the perfectest, widest base of any quarterback, it’s not even a contest. Even if you look at Peyton Manning (the perfectionist!), Brees gets lower, and delivers the ball better (according to the prototype of technique; obviously Manning has his own technique, and it works for him).  The stance is really important for Brees because he’s so short. When he bounces around to see over his line, it’s imperative that he lands in that perfect trapezoidal base. That way he can throw right away. It also improves his accuracy, and power. (No, I’m not that smart, I just got all that from watching Sunday Night Football 🙂 I thought it was interesting, though, because it makes perfect sense. At least to me. 🙂 )

Our little Frankenstinian creation doesn’t look pretty, but I’d say it’d get the job done. With all of these attributes defenses would have to double spy on the quarterback (because of the running ability) and that would force the defense into man coverage, with no safety help. That would be easy pickin’s for the perfect quarterback.

Reading Time: 3 minutes

I’m not sure what it is about the Sun, but he just gets on my nerves. I don’t particularly dislike the light it gives, or the heat it gives, but just think this through with me.

In the summer when you have nothing to do, because everyone is “off school” (whatever that means) and you think to yourself, Hey, why don’t I go outside?, and who’s there to ruin the fun?

Glaring down at you like a big angry father, the Sun looks at you like Sauron, burning into your brain, through your eyes, the single question, What do you think your doing!?! (Must read with really “scary” whispery voice.)

You step out, despite his obvious order to stay in doors, and he starts beating you. The steady ninety-five degree wether is cooking you, sweat soaks your shirt, you can hear your pale skin sizzling in the sun. (Unless you don’t burn, in that case you can see yourself darkening into a nice tan, very disconcerting, eh?) You forge onward in this, a battle of obedience to the parental figure of the Sun.

The Sun is now furious and slowly (and I mean slooooooooooooooooooowly) hides behind a cloud, and then quickly positions himself in a position to cause the most heat. In a punishment for being outside against orders, you are now roasting. You pick up a basketball, and try to dribble on your blacktop driveway, and suddenly your feet are burning off.  Again the lovely, painful, un-comforting, irritating Sun.

Now he forcefully orders you to stand in the shade, and you obey, totally exhausted by the heat. The Sun tyrannically dictates your day.

You then go inside, defeated, and depressed. You sit on your couch, and wait for fall, football, and hockey.

It’s now fall, you’re standing at your front door, hot apple cider in hand. The Moon is out in the clear, dark blue sky, and she’s shining softly down through the leafless branches. You find yourself out of the micromanaging rays of the Sun,  you slip into a warm, woolly sweatshirt, and embark on a night’s walk.

The sidewalks are swept clean by the wind, but the yards are full of brown and orange leaves that are ensnared in the grass. Nary a street light to be seen, as you walk the back roads. You talk to the Moon, confessing doubts and concerns, all the while  enjoying the cool night  breeze whisking around your Levi-clad legs, and briskly brushing your face. You sip your warm, cinnamony apple cider, and exhale a cloud of steam

The scene is so much colder due to the soft blue glow of the Moon. Without her, the steam of your drink would go unnoticed, the nice white sidewalk unseen, and the beautiful bald trees wouldn’t be able to cast their night shadows. She listens to your confessions and her silence reveals the answers to your problems, qualms, downfalls. You swear she could solve world peace with her calm reflective answers.

Rejuvenated you pitch the Moon some of your solutions. Ideas you’d never share with anyone, but on the cold windy night, you share with a soulmate like no other.

Again silence is the answer, but as you stare at her white face, you realize that she’s watching you all the time. It’s just that sometimes she disappears. How cool is that? you think. I have a friend that disappears!

But more than anything, you realize that you have a friend.

A friend to share a nice, cool, crisp, hot apple cidery night with.

Reading Time: 4 minutes

 

Okay, so lately I’ve been selling lemonade. It just so happens that I only sell the lemonade during the Hill Cumorah Pageant that is a reenactment of the Book of Mormon. (That is to say, that’s what it is to my knowledge.)

During this pageant a great many visitors come through our small village (The Village of Palmyra) These visitors are mainly Mormon, and as I can’t say 100%, I’ll say 99.999999999% 🙂 I will also say that these people draw out a certain conflict.

This post is titled I Don’t Know! because of the immense confusion that I’m suffering per the insanely large argument caused by the faith of Mormons.

Because of the large concentration of Mormons, many of the more die-hard Anti-Mormons come out with slogans, tracts, and large signs. One sect congregates in the public park on main street, roughly half of a small town block from several key Mormon-tourism sites. They drive a large “sign truck” which bears the slogan “WhatMormonsDon’tTell”. They hand out tracts and “share the gospel”.

Unfortunately, they are the more passive group.

One man stands around with a large sign. The sign itself is relatively (relatively) inoffensive, but the man holding this sign was getting on my nerves. The only reason that I’m near this man is that I am advertising on that corner. A representitive of my lemonade stand will stand on the corner for fifteen minutes at a time, and entice customers to pull over and stop for “Great Lemonade, and cookies!”.

During these fifteen minute chunks this man managed to offend me on several occasions, and this is only my second day! Not only that, but I’m not even a Mormon and he’s offensive to me.

So today I decided to check this Sign Guy out. I walked over and asked him to pretend that I was a Mormon, and prove to me why I shouldn’t be one.

For the next twenty minutes the Sign Guy tells me theory after Mormon theory, which he soon disproved. He would set it up, and telling me their belief, and then he would tell me the practical disproving factor. He had a briefcase full of facts and quotes of Mormon leaders, etc.

I believe Sign Guy is factually correct. He has spent years of his life researching his faith and the faiths of others. He has the necessary facts to disprove the Mormons.

Yes, Sign Guy is correct.

But he’s wrong!

He’s doing it all wrong! First example that he needs to take a chill pill is that he refers to the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as Mormons. He doesn’t say this as a title, but spews it as if it is a filthy word. He doesn’t say it as though they are human, even. Rather he addresses them as stupid, childish fools who aren’t smart enough to realize that his faith is the right one.

Near the end of our thirty minute talk, a man in his early twenties stops near us and asks if Sign Guy is a Christian. Sign Guy says he is.

“Wow,” says the young man. “That’s sad. It’s sad that you hold this sign. Do you think Jesus would do this? Jesus would be–”

“Do you hate the bible?” Sign Guy says.

“Jesus would be out here just loving these people.”

The man walks away as Sign Guy yells shouts something, probably sensible, but the tone is derogatory. As he walks away the man holds up his hand in the universal sign for peace, and just ignores Sign Guy.

When I turn back to Sign Guy, he’s chuckling derogatorily, and the first thing he says is.

“People always try to claim a Jesus. They mold him to their purposes, and don’t depict him as he is.”

The reason I titled this post I Don’t Know! is coming back to me. I don’t know where to go with this argument. Do I agree with Sign Guy’s conclusions? Yes. I think he’s right on there. Now, do I agree with his methods?

Do you think that it is right to yell, “Repent! Repent! Confess your sins and believe in Jesus of the Bible and you can be saved!” at a family with three small children. Is it important to yell that to a young couple holding the hands of their toddler? Is it necessary to yell in these people’s faces, “Your wrong! Your so wrong!”?

The only conclusion I draw from this is that there is a line between helpful and just plain mean. It is not right to be offensive, and self-righteous, even if you are right. You must respect other people’s intelligence, as well as their right to freedom of religion.

God created all beings with the natural freedom of choice, and America is one of the only countries that will allow us to exercise these rights. I believe this man has no right to harass these tourists, an personally believe he is wrong in the method he uses to get his point across.

I keep thinking of a kid that is whining and his mother says, “Use your words, Little Billy.” This man just needs to have an adult conversation with the people he disagrees with. As long as the other party has a fair chance to argue their point, and it is an open-minded conversation, I believe Sign Guy could win the argument.

His current method is only pushing people away. He needs to consider what Jesus would do. If Jesus were at that corner today, I think he’d be talking with the Mormon believers, and just looking at the crazy Sign Guy with pity. He’d shake his head, and just look sadly at him.

What would Jesus do?

What would you do?

Please discuss using the extremely obvious comment thing at the bottom of this post. This discussion will be as open minded as possible.

Reading Time: 5 minutes

I’ll probably get the pants sued off of me for using this picture, but I thought was a good picture.

Anyway, I just read a little biography on the man named Steven Paul Jobs. His biological parents were Joanne Schieble and Abdulfattah Jandali. His dad was from Syria (now we know where he gets the cool nose!). They weren’t married, and they decided they weren’t ready for a baby. So they put Steve up for adoption.

He was adopted by Paul and Clara Jobs. They lived in what became Silicon Valley. (Yes, that’s just a nickname. It was Mountain View, California before businesses in the electronic field began experimenting and using silicon. Thus, Silicon Valley.)

Paul Jobs was a repairman by trade, and he passed on his love for machines to his son. Steve loved watching his father, and he began helping him at a very young age.

Steve met Steve Wozniak through a geek, excuse me, computer club. Woz, as he was called, had made a hobby of designing computers. They became good friends. Steve and Woz started their business on April Fool’s Day 1976. There business would sell circuit boards to people who wanted to build their own computers.

They asked several of the local stores if they would like to stock their circuit boards. Everyone turned them down. One man was mildly interested though. He said he didn’t think the circuit boards weren’t marketable as there was a distinct rarity of computer building people. Thus, he asked Steve, and Woz, to make him fifty of the actual computers. He would pay them twenty-five thousand for all of them.

“Ok,” said the Steves.

The birth of the Apple. Why Apple? Because steve ate lots of fruit, and apples, he said, were the perfect fruit. Perfect, just like his computers would be.

The Apple II was the next step. Woz wanted it to have color (What? Unheard of!), sound (again, unheard of), and sharp crisp graphics. Steve wanted to have the computer be able to accept floppy disks. He wanted it to molded in plastic as well. At the time plastic was more expensive, but both Steves thought it looked cool, and that was important.

Yes, Steve Jobs was the designer of the modern computer. That’s pretty cool. Trendsetting means that you’re successful.

Soon after the Apple company grew (right around 1978) Woz was on a plane that crashed. Woz took months to recuperate, and he never returned to work full time at Apple. Steve had to work with other engineers now, and it wasn’t nearly as satisfying. The next Apple computer was a flop. No one wanted to pay $10,000 dollars for a computer.

Steve then started working on the Macintosh, a computer that would change the world. Steve picked the engineers by hand, and he put them in a separate building. He flew a pirate flag over the building.

“It’s a better to be a pirate than to join the navy,” Steve said. He meant it’s good to break rules, and think different.

Steve was weird. He only ate fruit. He didn’t wear shoes. He thought that his diet made it so he wouldn’t have to take showers often. People didn’t enjoy working with him because he smelled awful. Despite all these things, Steve was somehow one of the most charming people anyone knew. Everyone called it the “Reality Distortion Field,” or RDF. When Steve said something, he always made it seem as though it would work, no matter what.

In 1984 (real life) the Macintosh was released. The mac sold amazingly well–for a short time. Steve had misjudged people’s interest in home computers. This caused some strife at Apple. John Sculley, the man who Steve had hired to run the business end of Apple, wanted to get Steve out of the company. The company board voted. Steve lost all of the power he had at Apple, in May, 1985. He was moved to another office which he called Siberia.

Steve then went on to pour millions of dollars into the company he called NeXT. That was a failure as well. Steve spent a little time in limbo, during which he dated several women (including Bob Dylan’s former girlfriend), and located his sister Mona Simpson, a novelist. After a little while he got married.

In 1986 Steve got to work with a man he admired very much. Steve became an owner of George Lucas’s computer graphics company. They called it Pixar. The problem was that many artists didn’t think they needed to spend the money on something they didn’t think was necessary. Steve put more than fifty million dollars into the company himself. He paid himself a salary of fifty dollars a year.

In 1991, Steve had to lay off most of Pixar’s staff. One person he didn’t lay off was John Lasseter. Lasseter made short films for the company, and Steve thought that he was the best form of advertising the company had. His short film, Tin Toy, won an Oscar. Despite the Oscar, Pixar was a failure, and Steve was losing his reputation. People thought Steve was nothing but a slick salesman.

Steve eventually RDFed Disney into giving him the money for three full length animated movies. The first one was Toy Story. After that, Pixar went on to make a dozen hit movies. After struggling for ten years, Steve became successful again. He wasn’t a millionaire anymore, but he was a billionaire now. In 1993 John Sculley had been forced out of Apple, and Steve was asked to come back. Steve gave himself a salary of a dollar a year, and only agreed to run Apple for a short time, until they found a replacement.

Steve made some big changes, like agreeing to work with Bill Gates in 1997. Steve also cleared out the clutter that Apple had started to make. He removed products that weren’t selling, and he laid off so many workers that employees were afraid to ride on the elevator with him. They were scared they’d lose their jobs on their way to their floor.

Steve created the Internet Macintosh. The iMac was the next biggest thing. Apple convinced Steve that he should stay with them. From there, the rest is history.

The First Apple stores were created in May, 2001. Steve designed them himself. Then, in October, 2001, Steve pulled the cat out of the bag, actually the iPod out of his pocket. He created iTunes, and convinced the Beatles to sell their music on it. Steve then created the iPhone, in 2007, that was a huge success. On top of that, the rest of his products evolved into what they are today: the sleek, powerful super-models of the computer world.

In 2010, Steve introduced another groundbreaking device, the iPad. Apple sold three-hundred-thousand in the first day. In 1997, Apple nearly went bankrupt. In August 2011, Apple was the most successful company in the world.

Steve finally retired from his company, and spent lots of time with his friends, including Bill Gates. On his death bed, Steve looked at his sister Patti, then his children, and then his wife.

He said, “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.”

A salute to the man who thought differently. Who asked “What if?”. A man who cut against the grain. A man who took chances.

A man who changed the world.

I say, “Oh wow.”