Real Men Love Jesus

Recently, during my drive home, I saw a bumpersticker that read "Real Men Love Jesus".

I immediately thought that I, then, must be a real man; if the sticker was correct. Because of the traffic and the long, long delays, I started think about what it means to be a real man where Christians, specifically Mormon Christians, are concerned. My thoughts over time, have evolved here and there. As they perculated, I wrote them down and later, re-read them only to find myself changing the direction of my commentary as I focused more and more on two things; loving Jesus and being a real man.

While I will address these thoughts to men and boys, I hope the women and girls who read them might find some value as well.

My first, early thoughts, were of a young man from the scriptures. His name was Abiathar.

He was the son of Ahimelech, one of the priests murdered by Saul after he has shown kindness to David by giving him bread from the temple, to eat.

Abiathar was able to escape and took with him one of the ephods worn by one of the 100+ priests slain by Saul in his rage and jealousy.He ran and found David who promised he would be safe.

A short time later David asked the young man to put on the ephod, which was likely very large and bulky to the boy, and seek the Lord's counsel as to what his strategy against both Saul's armies and those of the Philistines. In the pocket of the ephod, were the urim and thummim.

No doubt somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the ephod and the responsibility of wearing it, Abiathar sought God's counsel which counsel led David's small band of rebels to both victory and safety. This young man eventually became the High Priest of Judah, after David was on the throne and remained loyal to him until David's death.

Thinking of this story, I remembered how often in my youth I might have had some good ideas to offer adults at various times for various reasons and never once have them ask my opinion.

I suspect that part of the reason they didn't was that my choices as a youth were not always what they should have been; but I also believe adults, myself now included, often never consider the experience and councel from someone young will be of value even it it's considered at all. Fortunately for Israel, David was not that kind of adult.

I concluded then, that being a real man in the Lord means asking for and listening to wise counsel from any source but particularly that found in the hearts, minds and experiences of young people.

Now for a little advice to the young people. If you want your opinions to be considered and taken seriously those opinions need to be based on facts and founded on principle. They cannot be products of selfish motivations or the desire for personal achievement. When asked for counsel, make sure the counsel is righteous and not stupid. Also remember that Abiathar was reluctant. He was humble and understood that David was not really asking his opinion of anything but was seeking counsel from God through an authorized holder of the priesthood.

Also from the story of Abiathar, I conclude that he was a real man who loved the Lord.

You young men need to remember this story and look for ways to incorporate Abiathar's example into your own lives by paying attention to the things going on around you and weighing their spiritual value on the scales of eternal principles that can be found in the scriptures, in the words of our modern prophets and in quiet moments of fervent, sincere prayer.

You fathers of young men need to consider David's example in this story. You need to particularly pay attention if you are the father of a holder of the Aaronic Priesthood, which priesthood authorizes worthy bearers to receive personal and private ministering - or teaching - by angels (D&C 84:26). Perhaps you would be quicker to ask advice or counsel from sons when you consider that Peter referred to the Aaronic Priesthood not as the lesser priesthood but as a Royal Priesthood (1 Peter 2:9).

Fathers and sons might consider that on April 6, 1830, Joseph Smith was 24 years old and stood at the head of the newly restored Church among five other men, the youngest of whom was five years older than Joseph. Think that 10 years earlier God the Father and His Son determined to appear to the 14 year-old Joseph and call him to his holy assignment to open the last dispensation. Just three years later Joseph received the angelic message that his name would be had for good throughout the entire world (Joseph Smith - History 1:31).

In 2 Samuel 23, there is a detailed account of the actions of the finest soldiers under David’s command. At one time, only 37 individuals out of the huge armies of Israel were considered good enough to receive the coveted title of “mighty man” . (2 Sam 23)

In 2 Chronicles 12 we learn learn more about the qualities of this outstanding group of soldiers. In Chronicles we read: “They were armed with bows, and could use both the right hand and the left in hurling stones and shooting arrows out of a bow” (2 Chron. 12:2).

They were “fit for the battle, that could handle shield and buckler, whose faces were like the faces of lions, and were as swift as the roes upon the mountains” ( 1Chr. 12:8).

These mighty men had developed the skills of a warrior to a very high degree. They were determined and, as with the faces of lions, completely without fear. They were prepared for any battle.

One inspiring account tells of three of these mighty men who overheard King David long for a drink of water from the well of Bethlehem. Apparently, in Bethlehem at that time was a well of particularly refreshing water of which the king wished for a drink. The king did not place a demand or order for the water; he simply expressed a desire for a taste of the cool, refreshing liquid.

Without command or assignment or even duty, three of the mighty men broke through enemy lines, at great personal risk, to travel to Bethlehem. They drew water out of the well and returned, again at great risk through the enemy lines, to bring the wonderful refreshment to David. David was so overcome by this act of personal, unsolicited service that he refused to drink the water. He considered the act so brave and wonderful that he poured the water upon the ground. The scripture says, “He … poured it out unto the Lord”.

These were men who could "keep rank" and were not of a "double heart" (1 Chrn. 12:33)

They understood the need for an organization which would stay in place during difficult and challenging times. They did not have a “double heart” which compelled them to seek their own personal interests ahead of that of Israel. Because of their single heart, manifest by pure motives, they did not aspire to a different position or rank within the armies of David. Each of the 37 could absolutely depend upon the others to fulfill the assignment which came to them, whatever their rank.

Then in 1 Chronicles 12:38 we read: “All these men of war, that could keep rank, came with a perfect heart to Hebron, to make David king over all Israel: and all the rest also of Israel were of one heart to make David king”

This quality was the condition of their “perfect heart,” which was demonstrated by complete devotion to building the ancient kingdom of Israel. They had no agenda, personal or otherwise, which was separate from their commitment to the king and the building of Israel. They understood the divine nature of David’s station and offered their complete loyalty and devotion to him. Theirs was a perfect heart. So were the mighty men of Israel! They were real men.

Real Men Have Perfect Hearts

In 2nd Chronicles 12 we read the names and some of the deeds of the men we call David's Mighty men. The entire chapter is an exciting glance at a few real men; but I want to focus on one of the groups mentioned. The sons of Issachar in verse 32. The verse reads:

"And of the children of Issachar, [which were men] that had understanding of the times, to know what Israel ought to do; the heads of them [were] two hundred; and all their brethren [were] at their commandment."

I startles me to think that one of the duties of the real men of Christ, is to have an understanding of the times and to know what we, a remnant of Israel, must do and, I might add, when we must then do them.

So what must real men know of our times?

The airwaves are flooded with information. There is never a minute on any day that those with access to television or radio cannot watch something deemed as "news" by those who broadcast it. I think it is not unlike the apocalyptic visions seen by Moses. Elijah and others, where all the catastrophes, both temporal and spiritual in nature are set before us with amazing speed and scope. It's enough to turn an optimist into a cynic. Yet real men in Christ are not cynical. They are hopeful and they are joyful because of what they know with respect to the eternal nature of all things even if the temporal nature is dark and dreary.

Most Christians must rely of the scriptures and the interpretation of scriptures in the form of sermons delivered by mostly well-meaning preachers. They, like us, can rely on the arm of Jehovah to guide them through these last days of trouble and gloom.

As Latter-day Saints, however, we are blessed with a richer, deeper, and more critical knowledge which places the mantle of watchmen squarely on our shoulders. Those men of other Christian sects do not hold the priesthood. We do and, in effect, carry the burden of the ephod and its attendant urim and thummim.

Real men teach their families how to understand the times and lead them in that which they should do.

Real Men Know the Times and are Watchmen on the Tower

A few months ago, I sat in a stake priesthood meeting and heard two statistics. The sources of those statistics were named but I don't remember what they were. In any case they were shocking.

1. The state of Utah has more hits to porn sites on the internet, per capita, than any other state.
And:

2. In the Church, in the United States, one out of every three men participates in pornography at least once a week.

I don't know about you, but to me, those are stunning and tragic numbers.

How can we call ourselves real men in Christ if we are so eager to indulge our lusts? How can we look our sons in the eye and explain the value and necessity of chastity when we are participating in such vile entertainment?

I certainly don't pretend to have the solution to this problem except to suggest that anyone who might be participating in this activity, see his bishop and begin the repentance process.

Real men in Christ do not indulge in pornography.

Another startling fact in the Church surrounds the real sin of spousal and child abuse in all its ugly forms.

The priesthood gives men in the Church more responsibility, not more power over our wives. We must honor our wives, brethren, if we are to gain their respect and merit their love. We cannot honor them if we mistakenly believe we rule over them.

As for our children, can we be justified in our surprise if, after years of shouting, beating or other abuse, they leave the Church? How can we expect them to even seek a personal witness when they witness and are victims of such abuse during their childhood.

Real men in Christ do not abuse their wives or children.

There was an old story going around the Church a few years ago of a conversation between three Aaronic Priesthood boys.

"My dad always gets his Home Teaching done by the last of the month." Donny the Deacon said.

"My dad is better than yours because he always gets his done by the 15th." Tommy, the Teacher answered.

"Well," said Petey the Priest, "my dad has you both beat. He always does his the day BEFORE the first day of the month!"

Rare is the priesthood meeting in the Church where someone doesn't encourage us to do our Home Teaching. Oh, that our only encouragement would be that we do it better!

What good does understanding the times if we don't share that understanding with our friends in the Church? Are we real men in Christ if we hoard the knowledge for ourselves?

The Home Teacher represents the Elder's quorum president or the High Priest group leader, who in turn, report to the bishop. Home Teachers feed the flock, particularly that part of the flock that is wandering on strange paths or stuck alone in some corner of the meadow, alone and afraid.

Real men in Christ do their Home Teaching.

Three years ago President Hinckley issued the challenge to all members of the Church to read the Book of Mormon by the end of that year. The response of the members was overwhelming. In every corner of the world, faithful members cracked open their copies of the Book of Mormon and began reading. For many, even some who had been members their entire lives, it was the first time they read the book from cover to cover. For me, the impact was stunning. During that time I saw two friends who had left the Church for various reasons, return and both are not in full fellowship and finding joy in their testimonies once again. After each session of reading, during my prayers, I would ask the Lord to help my friends remember the peace that comes to the faithful.

Certainly others were praying for these people as well, so I can't take all the credit... I really can't take any of the credit. That belongs to my two friends and to God. Still, I think there is a thin thread of a connection.

The one mentionable miracle in my personal life that came from our reading of the Book of Mormon was the closeness I felt to my wife as we read together. I would not have believed I could love her more than I had before our reading. Sharing the scriptures with her, however, made our spirits connect is a way that doesn't generally occur outside of the Celestial Room.

We still read together almost every morning.

Real men in Christ read the scriptures regularly.

This list could go on and on and should include things like:

Real men in Christ pray always.

Real men in Christ pay a tithes and offerings.

Real men in Christ sustain their leaders.

Etc.

Each attribute of worthy manhood could be the subject of many sermons but I finally rested on two things real men in Christ will always do.

In the 22nd chapter of Matthew we find the Pharisees attempting to confound our Lord.

After centuries of arguing over the law and attempting to prioritize not only the nearly 400 articles legitimately associated with Mosaic law but also the thousands of traditional laws created by those who had lost the real meaning of the law and having no success in this prioritzation, they came tempting the Lord.

"Master," one Pharisee asked, "Which is the great commandment in the Law?"

The Savior, without any indication of hesitation answered this question of the ages.

"Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment.

And the second [is] like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." (Matthew 22:37-40)

Thus it was that the Lord taught us not only the two great commandments but showed me that real men love our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son and love and serve their neighbors.

If we demonstrate our manliness by obeying only these two commandments it is a witness that we have past the Lord's litmus test of our love found in John 14:15 "If ye love me, keep my commandments."

It is my prayer that we may all begin a daily regimine of spiritual calesthenics that we might be numbered among the Lord's mighty men.

Changes

I look forward to General Conference with both anticipation and anxiety. Whenever there is a major change in among the General Authorities, an upcoming conference fills me with curiosity.

My curiosity was abated last Saturday when Elder Henry B. Eyring was sustained as Second Counselor in the First Presidency and Elder Quinton Cook called to fill the seat in the Quorum of the Twelve vacated by Elder Eyring.

I had, like many members, tried to guess who the Prophet would select as a counselor but as much as I love Elder Eyring, his name had not entered my mind. I had thought that perhaps someone from Latin America of an Asian would fill the apostolic seat but that just goes to show how little regard God has for political correctness.

Once my curiosity had been satisfied, I hunkered down to watch the balance of the proceedings thinking they would be as they had generally been. This was not the case, however.

I spent the next 10 hours of conference alternating from shedding tears of joy, feeling the need to seriously repent, feeling extremely inadequate as a husband, father and priesthood holder and feeling deeply blessed as a member of Christ's only authorized Church. Ultimately, I felt deeply and often the profound effect of the Atonement as the Spirit whispered the confirming truth that I am really a child of a loving Heavenly Father.

This conference for me, was the most powerful one I have witnessed in my memory.

So along with the changes made among the General Authorities, I am making the commitment to change a few things about myself. I think it will be easier to be successful if I publish them here so the few people who read this will offer their encouragement through word and prayer in my behalf.

I Will Be a Better Husband

1. I will spend more time in conversation, prayer, study and recreation with my wife and less time on the computer at home or engrossed in some television show.


2. I will be slower to irritation and quicker to understand the pressures my wife faces in her life and the worries that weigh her down.


3. I will ask my wife's opinion more often concerning decisions I face in my life.


4. I will listen more carefully when she talks to me and try to remember the things that are important to her.


5. I will ask her to pray with me more often.


6. I will support her completely in her Church assignment.

I Will Be a Better Father and Grandfather

1. I will do a better job of contacting my children every week just to let them know how much I love them.


2. I will remember important events in their lives and recognize them in our conversations.


3. I will do a better job of recording my life's history that my children might learn from my mistakes and my triumphs.


4. I will be a peacemaker between my children and other branches on this diverse and interesting family.


5. I will remember my responsibilities as a patriarch to my children and invoke God's blessings where they are deserved and intervention when my children struggle or stray.


6. I will speak to my grandchildren at least twice a month.


7. I will bear my testimony more to my family.

I Will Be a Better Servant of the Lord

1. I will be a dutiful and observant Home Teacher


2. I will prepare my lessons by first asking God to teach me by the Spirit and then follow better, the manual.


3. I will offer more service to my quorum and my ward.


4. I will take the time to learn the names of members of my ward.

I Will Be a Better Employee

1. I will complete my tasks in a more timely manner.


2. I will be exacting in the quality of my work.


3. I will treat those who report to me with greater respect and confidence.

I Will Be a Better Latter-day Saint

1. I will begin working more diligently on my family history.


2. I will, with my wife, attend the temple more regularly.


3. I will find ways to demonstrate my love for my neighbor.


4. I will practice more diligently, personal prayer both morning and night.


5. I will seek ways to share the message of the Gospel with others.


6. I will repent more quickly and fully.

These commitments are real. They may seem too big but they are not and writing them down will help me to remember them more readily.

To start this process, I want to bear my testimony to any and all who may read this.

I know that my Redeemer lives; that He loves me and is keenly interested in my personal happiness; so much so that He gave His life that I might attain it.

I know He restored his Gospel and His Church through the Prophet Joseph Smith and that we have a living prophet today in Gordon B. Hinkley.

I know the priesthood was restored under the hands of John the Baptist and the apostles Peter, James and John to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery in 1829.

I know of the power of the Atonement when we repent. I know because I have personally experienced it's power in my life.

I know God's love is infinite and eternal and that His plan for us is designed for our eternal happiness even when we experience terrible trials during our brief sojourn in mortality. I know of God's love because I know that I love my children - even in its mortal deficiency.

I regret the horrible decisions of my past that have injured those I love and pray they will be able to forgive me as the Lord as forgiven me.

I invoke a father's blessing on all my children and their families; that God will grant them power from on high as they seek to love one another and serve one another. I ask God for a special dispensation of patience for those of my children who wander or who struggle with life's curve balls and I plead with Him to grant them the strength to "o'er come."

Finally I want them all to know that I love them. I love Matt, Laura, Alexandra, Jordon, and Maddy. I love Sam, Kathy, Hunter, Hannah, Spencer, Hyrum and the soon-to-be fifth child of that family. I love Erin, Dan, Daniel, Clara and Carolina. I love Mary and admire her desire to serve. I love Will for his strength of purpose in the face of challenges to which I cannot relate. He is my example. I love Deb as deeply as I love all these and more. She is my rock, my shield and my shoulder. She is my friend and lover. I thank God for her.

There are others I love whom I have hurt so badly they want nothing to do with me. I cannot blame them but still I pray for the day they can find joy that comes with forgiveness.

My foundation in the Gospel is firm and my reliance on God is fixed as i seek that broken heart and contrite spirit in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Of Comanches. Methodists and Strangite Mormons

Quanah Parker was an active polygamist. There is historical proof he had seven wives (pictured to the right with two of them) and, at least, twenty-five children but my mother's father and his brother claimed to be the twin sons of his 15th wife. But they also claim to be the younger brothers to White Parker whose mother was Mah-Cheeta-Wookey, Quanah's third wife. The second claim has more historical substantiation as Mah-Cheeta-Wookey died in 1902 and left the care of her remaining small children to her oldest son White and his wife Laura Clark who began as Methodist missionaries to the Comanche Nation in 1914.

Family legend attests that a Methodist preacher named Sanford Francis Yarberry and his wife Mary Ann (Lively), en route from Benton Country Arkansas to the Colorado territory in 1903, adopted two sons of Quanah and Mah-Cheeta-Wookey who had been left in the care of White and Laura. There is no record of the boy's Indian names but their adoptive names were Rodney Herbert, my maternal grandfather, and John Milton Yarberry, John being older than Rodney by two years.

As a sidenote, Sanford Yarberry was heading to Colorado looking for his uncle from whom no one in the family had heard since he had gone West two decades earlier. At that time they had no idea that Uncle Milt had been a rather notorious gunfighter in Southern Colorado and New Mexico and had been hired in 1880 as the first town marshal for Albuquerque. After shooting to death, an unarmed citizen, the city hanged old Milt on February 9, 1883.

My grandfather married three women, although he was not a polygamist. His first wife was Maude J. Dunn, his second, an Indian woman known only as Tillie and my grandmother, Leota Winona Park (Miller). With his first wife, he had one daughter, my Aunt Betsy. With his second there is no record of any children born and with my grandmother he inherited two step-daughters, my Aunts Eileen and Denny, then they had one daughter together, Roxana Lee, my mother. My grandmother and grandfather met when their two husbands decided to meet weekly to play cards with the wives. Apparently Maude fell in love with Mr. Park and Mrs. Park, Leota, fell in love with Rodney and both couples divorces and remarried each other. They continued playing cards together until my grandfather went on a drunk in 1949. My grandmother died in 1955, when I was four years old. The whole thing caused quite the little stink in Pueblo, Colorado which, while pretty wild, was not all that progressive in their thinking!

My mother is the family genealogist and has determined to follow the Yarberry line since the Parker line is pretty muddy before Quanah's mother (who had been kidnapped by Indians when she was a child and raised with them). The Yarberry line wades through the generations and melds with the England line which eventually takes us to a serf with an unpronounceable name before it stops cold.

John Milton Yarberry, my great uncle, became the state superintendent of schools in Colorado as did his son. My grandfather became a raging mean alcoholic who spent 9 of the last 11 years of his life in the Colorado State Hospital for the Insane from whence he walked away boarded a bus and arrived on our doorstep in Killeen, Texas in 1957. I was six years old and had never met him. I was very afraid of him from the stories my mother told.

When he arrived he was clean and sober and, although my mother told him he could rot in hell, my father invited him to live with us. Mom eventually forgave him and he spent the last two years of his life sharing a bedroom with an obnoxious me. He has various and sundry grandchildren spread out over the nation but I was the only one who he ever got to know and I count is as a special blessing to me. His was the first funeral I ever attended and his remains now lie many miles from anyone who even heard his name, in a cemetery in Lampases, Texas.

My mother and father each joined the Church in 1953. She was married to my birth father and lived in Pueblo, Colorado (also my birthplace) and he, married to his first wife, lived in Kalamazoo when he wasn't stationed somewhere in the world. They both went immediately inactive and each got a divorce. They would not meet until 1956.

In that meantime, my mother decided to attend the church where her former in-laws went because she knew it was somehow associated with the Mormons. She went once and there she saw some long-bearded men with chaw-stained lips, preaching a weird religion while they made the women-folk sit in a section apart from them. These were one of the last enclaves of Strang's followers who had escaped from Beaver Island in Michigan and started a few branches of that church in Colorado. It was this connection of which I learned years later, that sparked my interest in studying the life of King James and found him to have been an extremely fascinating man.

My father, after his divorce, returned to the church in which he was raised. It was my Nana's church and the church in which I preformed my first musical solo for money (Nana paid me 10 bucks to sing 'Rock of Ages' when I was 9). She belonged to what Joseph Smith once described as the second-best church. She was a Methodist.

In 1956, my father went TDY to Fort Carson, Colorado and my mother had moved with another single mother, to Denver where she worked in a Woolworth store by day and did some modeling in the evening. Her roommates best friend was a the sister of my father's first wife, who remained a close friend of my dad's even after the divorce. She thought my dad might be a good catch for my mother's roommate and hooked them up.

The roommate was nervous about meeting a GI on a first date, so she invited my mother along. So my mother and dad met in a Colorado honkytonk and in that same honkytonk, 6 weeks later, after they had become engaged, they discussed religion for the first time. This is how my mother tells it:

"Bob (my dad) said that since we were going to be a family, we ought to have a church. I was smoking a Lucky Strike and drinking gin when I told him he wouldn't believe what I was because I wasn't a good one. I told him I was a Mormon.His eyes widened and he smile that famous Bob Quantz smile, took a drag and said I would be more surprised to learn that he was too."

Bob left for Germany but returned a few months later and he and my mother were married in Dallas, Texas, in route to Fort Hood, Texas in what turned out to be a stolen Studebaker with a curly-headed brat in the back seat.

Once at Fort Hood, as Providence would decree, my father's CO was the branch president. Dad and I were playing catch in the street in front of our house one Sunday morning when his CO drove up and strongly suggested that my dad get his wife, himself and me ready for church and be there in an hour.

We went and never looked back. Bob adopted me a year later, just weeks before I was baptized and then we were all sealed in the Hawaiian temple a few years later.

So from my mother, I inherited a legacy of drunks, outlaws, preachers and wild Indians; from my birth father (who remarried a Mormon, became active, had 8 kids and was just released as a temple worker in Ogden) a foggy connection with the early LDS Church and from the man who raised me? Well, that's another story.

(This was originally written December 21, 2005)

Some Fishing Memories

Autumn is nearly here.

Hunters look forward to this time of year because most of the game seasons begin. I look forward to Fall because most of the anglers crowding the waters are also hunters and their leaving for forests and fields brings peace and often solitude for those who prefer fishing when the air begins to chill.

Perhaps it's this chill that has me conjuring up old memories of rivers, streams and lakes of my past. I can't begin a recounting them though, without stating clearly that I hope my best fishing memories are waiting for me in the future.

My Earliest Memory

This experience happened so long ago that I am not sure my memory is of the event itself or of the various retelling of the story by the adults who were there with me. I wish it were more vivid because I feel wonderful thinking of it, even through the mists of my mind.

I was very young, not yet in school. Thinking of this now humbles me a little because I am not sure I would have taken someone so young on this kind of fishing trip. If I am not mistaken, there were three adult men and me. Two of the men were my uncles Tom and Walt. The other man was probably by biological father as this event occurred before my parents divorced. His face, however, is unrecognizable in my memory. Perhaps because he left when I was 4 and I never saw him again until I was 27.

I remember leaving in the late afternoon from Pueblo, Colorado, where we all lived at the time. Gear and people were loaded in my Uncle Walt's Army Surplus Jeep and we headed toward the mountains.

Anyone who has ever been to Pueblo knows it is not the kind of town shown in the travel brochures that entice tourists to Colorado. For years the main industry in town consisted of a Nabisco plant and a steel mill (pictured above). For Mormon history buffs, Pueblo was a layover town for the Mormon Battalion and the first white baby born there was born to the wife of the presiding elder in the area.

It sits in the desert. The mountains, on clear days, can be seen in the far distance. It is almost never green.

Bisected by the Arkansas River, one side of town, in those days, was reserved for the whites and the other for the Latinos. Only rarely did one tribe venture onto the land of the other. There was a large Italian contingent then. My mother told me that Pueblo was a hide-out for mobsters on the run but I suspect that was more legend than reality.

My bio-father, at the time, recently furloughed from the Navy, was working for the National Biscuit Company, as he calls it. Even today he won't refer to the plant as a Nabisco factory. I don't know why unless he's a little ashamed he ever made crackers.

Uncle Walt worked at the mill and my Uncle Tom was a roofing contractor. I am much closer to my uncles because they didn't leave when my bio-father did.

I am careful to differentiate between my dad and my biological father. Bio-dad's name is Fred Ferguson. He is a good man. I know him pretty well. After he left us, he remarried and raised 8 kids. My dad was Bob Quantz. He adopted me when I was 7 and never left. He wasn't a perfect father but he was there.

I seem to remember sitting in the back seat of the Jeep as the sun began to set and as we entered some canyon pass on some two-track road. I remember it being very dark and I was convinced we were traveling on the edge of some deep and dangerous ravine where, with one mistake by my Uncle Walt, we would careen to a fiery death. I am sure I fell asleep before we arrived at the cabin.

I really don't remember arriving at the cabin but I think I remember waking up to the aroma of frying bacon. Only one adult was in the place and I can't remember which one. The other two were in the stream trying to augment the bacon with freshly-caught trout. I headed to the stream all by myself.

Now this is something I would have never let a 4 year-old of mine do; run off alone in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains, but it was a different time.

I found one of the men as he was landing a small Rainbow trout. He let me take the rod and reel the fish to the net. I remember being excited but knowing somehow, this was not really my first fish. It wasn't my fish at all.

Later that day, I was carried to a rock in the middle of a stream whose name is not part of the shadows. There I fished with my own Zebco rod and reel and there I caught my first fish.

Somewhere in the books of remembrance either in the Ferguson garage or the Quantz attic, there is a snapshot of me holding that fish. The look on my face was really no different than it is now when I land a fish. I am still 4 years old, on a rock, in the middle of the stream.

The First Time with Dad

My dad - that is my real father; the man who raised me... Bob Quantz - was more a hunter than a fisherman and he wasn't all that great a hunter. From the first time he took me hunting - rabbits on the ranch in Lampasas - to the last time, just a year or so before he died, on a dear hunt in Central Michigan, I was much more successful a hunter. When I was in college in Kansas, he and I went pheasant hunting 5 times and I never saw him take a bird. I remember him killing exactly two deer in 30 years and one of them was with the Plymouth.

I was always confused that he couldn't seem to hit the side of a barn because, as a professional soldier, he has competed on rifle and pistol teams and won most of them. It was only after his death that it came to me that he really loved being in the outdoors but found no thrill in the kill. When I figured that out, I all but gave up hunting because I have never found it either.

As lousy a hunter my dad was, he was worse as a fisherman except when it came to pure, cane-pole, baitfishing. He tried flyfishing and just couldn't get the timing down. He tried using all the hot lures with spinning gear and he would, on the first or second cast, get hung up and have to snap the line. Give him a cane pole, with a hook, bobber and a worm and he was happy and successful.

Shortly after he and my mother were married and we all moved to Fort Hood, Texas, on one sweaty Saturday, he asked me if I wanted to go fishing with him. I grabbed my little tackle box and my rod and reel as I cheered my answer. I was happy to go fishing, of course, but also elated that I would not be doing my normal Saturday chores as barked out by my mother.

I remember we drove down a country road somewhere outside Lampasas where we lived, and parked at the side of the road where a bridge crossed a river. We then walked down the bank to the shoreline. He found a comfortable perch and swung his line into the water. "Go ahead." he said, "But watch out for snakes."

It was a worthy warning as the place was crawling with Cottonmouths and Daimondbacks. The river was also crawling with fish. It didn't matter what lure I threw, something took it. I caught fish, one after another, for two hours and found my way back to my dad, who had also collected a nice stringer.

He asked me if I was ready to go. I remember clearly that my brain wanted to stay but I wasn't feeling all that well for some reason, so I sad I was. We packed up and I mentally prepared myself for the fish-cleaning that would happen when we got home.

Once back at the house, my dad said I wasn't looking good and told me to wash up and go to bed. If I had not been so sick, I would have been happy I didn't have to share in the fish-cleaning. I went immediately to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of my mother screaming and pointing at my face. My dad came into my room and got a look of his face that scared me. I finally stumbled to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My head was the size and shape of a basketball. Something was seriously wrong.

My folks rushed me to the emergency room at the base hospital where I was immediately admitted. A few hours later my parents were told I had something called Nephritis; a deadly kidney disease. The doctors explained that it would take two weeks of heavy antibiotics before they could even tell if I was going to live and that, if I did, I would be years in recovery and rehabilitation.

My folks had only recently become active again in the Church and my dad didn't have the priesthood yet. Two GI's who were returned missionaries in our branch were summoned to give me a blessing. They did. I was out of the hospital in 6 weeks and have never had a single problem since because of the illness.

The next time my dad and I went fishing was in Hawaii. On our way to the home of the man who would take us my dad made me promise I wouldn't get some fatal disease.

Security and Power

Helen Keller said "Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature,nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable."

When I first read this, I didn't agree with her but the more I thought about it and the more I remembered her life's experiences, I was able to put the comment in its proper context. Helen Keller wasn't advocating the pursuit of dangerous activities or paths, but promoting a way of life that is not paralyzed by fear.

By "free spirits" I believe she was referring to those people who are not hampered by convention that has no meaning and not to those who abandon principles to participate in hedonism.

I remember clearly in the Sixties, when the term "free spirit" was bandied about by those who determined their world needed to be amplified by drugs and alcohol because they had difficulty seeing beauty in the realities of life. In truth, they were not free at all, but rather shackled by dependence on artificial happiness and counterfeit joy.

I have been watching the latest Ken Burns documentary on PBS, called, "The War". Here we see a horrible history of men killing other men for the spectrum of reasons both honorable and sinister. Amid the terrible tragedy are flowers of righteous purpose as he tells the stories of heroes who would not think themselves as such.

Last week my daughter attended the funeral for a fallen soldier in her community. As I read her account, I saw blossoms of hope amid unspeakable tragedy and sadness. I have asked for heaven's blessing to be with this hero's family as the hero has, no doubt, ascended into heaven for no man hath greater love...

Shortly after reading Helen Keller's words, I read other words, words written by a prophet of God.

Ezra Taft Benson said " When obedience ceases to be an irritant and becomes our quest,
Then God will endow us with power from on High."

It occurred to me that this might be the key to finding joy and freedom to sustain us in this weary world. The question then, is, "How do we do it?". The answer, I believe, is found in Helen Keller's philosophy of living life courageously.

It takes no courage to ignore principles. It requires no bravery to follow the whims of the crowds when they abandon eternal principles in favor of indulging themselves on the tempting fruits offered up by Satan with his lie that those who follow him "will not die".

It takes monumental courage to say, in the face of terrible trials, "...nevertheless, Thy will be done."

I pray that God will grant me the courage to face the world with a desire for absolute obedience and that He might touch my children with that righteous desire as well.

Worth a Thousand Words

Passages

Because of some events of the past few days, it has become clear to me that even the strongest of friendships can weaken and die.

Without getting specific, people I believed would never stand against me are now taking a position that, for me, is unacceptable. It should not matter to me because the issue itself is really trivial in the grand scheme of things; but alas, I am human enough and weak enough that I can sometimes be hurt. Knowing that being hurt is all part of the Great Plan to teach us and which leads us, one day, to happiness, does not seem to mitigate the pain. I believe Paul taught that we are not required to enjoy the trials, but to patiently see them through.

Autumn is encroaching on my world. The leaves are changing, albeit slowly at the moment. A harbinger of that wintry sleep that looks a lot like death. Having lived the last few years in either Oklahoma or Utah, I have missed the colors of the hardwoods in the Fall. Even though it means the trees will soon be bare and ugly, I like it far better than the constancy of evergreens.

Perhaps I am the cause of the estrangement of my friends because I don't care for the constancy of friendship. I don't think so, but I suppose it's a possibility.

Perhaps too, it's the loneliness of my new job that hones the edge of my feelings. I have frequent telephone interaction during the day with subordinates, occasionally with my superior and often with contractors and vendors. Sometimes one of my customers calls. Only rarely, however, do I actually see anyone. Maybe it's turning me into that old man who chases kids from his lawn and eats in front of the TV with his Hungryman meal resting on a fold-up TV table.

If I listen to my ego, I would think that I am simply outgrowing some of my friends, but they are growing too; perhaps outgrowing me.

In any case, I still have a wife who loves me and children too. My grandchildren certainly light my life. So maybe the cycle of friendships is here to remind us that family is the only thing that really matters.