Another Day Older and Deeper in Debt...

I am not made of mud but I do carry ample muscle, blood, skin and bone; a lot of fat too. Hopefully my mind is stronger, in the ways that matter, than is my back, with all due respect to Merle Travis who wrote it and Tennessee Ernie Ford who made "Sixteen Tons" famous.

Not only am I another day older, however. Today I celebrate the completion of another year in mortality. Given the illnesses and accidents I have had, a number of the same which I have narrowly escaped and a lifestyle during part of my existence that invited tragedy, completing 57 years is a small miracle.

The world, of course, isn't aware of my existence outside of a few souls who have had the misfortune - some say -to run into me and the few that I have loved and who still love me, even if it's in their own way.

I arose today realizing I don't feel a bit different than I did when I was 56. I then remembered having that exact same thought on every one of the anniversaries of my birth. I pondered the possibility then, that I don't feel today, any different than I felt on my 18th birthday, or my 30th or my 45th. Logic, of course, and the number of medications I take daily, dictate that I am crazy to even consider such things.

What really concerns me is that my thought processes have not matured even if my body has. Inevitably this led me to the "if I could only live my life over again" comment, complete with the "knowing what I know now" caveat.

I determined that I would probably commit fewer sins - at least serious ones - but that I would also be less adventurous. I might practice more on the piano at 9 years old but to what end? All the practice on the planet would not transform mediocrity into genius. I am sure I would be nicer to people but I might be meaner to people who I knew - from my previous life - were going to screw me over. In my teens I would target only the girls who I knew would go out with me and who would not break my heart. But then I would miss the joy a teenager feels wallowing in rejection.

Clearly I would plan better for my mission knowing that my previous last-minute decision was not the most prudent for me or my family financially or spiritually. But I then would miss the adventure of both learning the Gospel and learning to love people of another culture and language because I would be too focused on what I would think is the singular message of missionaries. I certainly would not have won the crown as the champion capirucho player of all time.

I might wait a little while longer to marry after my mission to miss the struggles of poverty but I would sacrifice the experience of struggling with the woman I love even if it was impossibly difficult.

I would not jump out of the security of the Church for a wild ride in the world but I would then miss learning how to live the gospel while repenting, in quiet, lonely ways where my service was unknown even to those I served. I would not get to appreciate the divine rescue of a soul so rebellious and proud as mine.

In the end, repentance allows us to begin again, which in my mind, is far better than a do-over. Stronger is the person who heals than he or she who is never wounded.

There are two events that occurred on May 15th, aside from my arrival into mortality, that have always impressed me. In 1252 Pope Innocent IV issued the papal bull, which authorized, but also limited, the torture of heretics and in 1829 John the Baptist appeared to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and restored the Aaronic Priesthood. Neither of these two events are related in anyway and I am not really sure why I think they make the day special.

I share this birthdate. although not the year, with several notables. Tenzing Norgay is one and so is Trini Lopez. George Brett and Emmett Smith are also on the list. Most notorius is probably Richard Daily whose son now holds the office he held all those years in Chicago.

I end this post with a poem I happen to like (and I don't like many). It probably has nothing to do with anything heretofore written but I don't care. I like the poem and it's my birthday!

Spring Pools

Robert Frost

These pools that, though in forests, still reflect

The total sky almost without defect,

And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,

Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,

And yet not out by any brook or river,

But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.

The trees that have it in their pent-up buds

To darken nature and be summer woods --

Let them think twice before they use their powers

To blot out and drink up and sweep away

These flowery waters and these watery flowers

From snow that melted only yesterday.