Sunday, December 15, 2024

The Greene Flu: it Hits Once a Year

Let me start with a piece of invaluable information for men everywhere – especially those who are married: you can safely and effectively sleep on a mattress – wait for it – WITHOUT a mattress pad! How, you ask, was I able to convince Erin to spit in the face of generations of slumber-related tradition? Was I smoking something that gave me such courage? Even if I were higher than the combined buzz the crowd feels at a Lollapalooza concert, I would never take that walk on the wild side. Our washing machine broke down in the middle of a cycle with all our bed clothes completely soaked; we had to sleep on our mattress for the night without a pad. That said, you can look at this annual missive in the same way I’ve presented this phenomenon concerning a mattress pad: it’s certainly not necessary, but my wife believes it is.

In the early part of September, when the rest of the country was welcoming the cooler days of the coming fall, we here in Arizona were still sweating like a fat guy on weigh-in day. However, we found cool respite in a hospital room where we got to meet the newest member of the family: Beau Taylor Greene. I believe more photos were taken of Beau in a 20-minute period than we have of both Jack and Sam combined from birth to age 18. He was nonplussed by the whole affair: in almost all of the photos, his eyes are closed, and he’s snoozing. If Beau were keeping a journal, it would probably read: “Day 1: Tired from the move.” (Credit to Steven Wright.) In the three months since he was born, I don’t believe he’s worn the same outfit twice – sort of like Vanna White – and he certainly hasn’t worn the same diaper for more than a few hours, tops. His two furry brothers, Hank and Bruce, went from sleeping in Jack and Kali’s bedroom and having run of the house to being banished to their kennels faster than Bruce can chew and fully digest Hank’s leather collar (and certainly faster than the time it took him to pass it).  Kali continues to influence and mold young minds in the classroom (not to worry, she washes her hands), and Jack has recently gone from a 90-minute commute each way to 20 minutes, as he’s been pulled into the office to become an estimator.  How hard can that job be?  It’s fairly easy to estimate that 100% of buildings humans occupy are going to want/need electricity. 

 

As the clock ticks down to the last days of 2024, Sam finds himself finishing up his second to last semester for his undergrad work.  For those of you who haven’t seen him in a while, let me assure you that he’s still tall – in case you were wondering.  This summer, he came back to Phoenix to complete an internship with a company called Microchip Technology, and I believe the record-breaking temperatures served only to melt any shred of a desire he had left of moving back to Arizona when he graduates.  He’s currently networking with folks to get himself ahead of the hiring curve before next semester ends, so if you hear of anyone who is looking for a tall Computer Engineer who lives on pizza and drives a Honda Odyssey, hit him up – I would imagine he’d be pretty flexible on the Honda Odyssey and even his height if the right opportunity came along, but giving up pizza is probably a deal breaker, just so you know.  

 

Just a few days ago, we were able to get a collar for Phoebe that emits a less-than-dulcet tone and then vibrates when she barks.  So far, it’s worked very well with the barking almost nonexistent, and she’s far less of a crackhead psycho than usual – since she is a Chihuahua/Dachshund (yes, a Chiweinie), she still has her manic episodes of chasing flying insects and birds and running laps around our backyard.  In the northeast corner of our yard is a spot of pea gravel, so it’s fun to watch her make that turn at speed and fishtail like she’s in one of the Fast & Furious movies.  


Both Erin and I have jumped into grandparenthood with both feet and find it quite enjoyable.  I’m curious what names we’ll get when Beau starts talking.  When Jack was a wee one, he called Erin’s mom Framma and Erin’s dad Papa.  Honestly, I’ll take whatever Beau decides to dish out in the name department just as long as he doesn’t follow in Jack’s footsteps and kick my mom in the shins (just as Jack had done to my dad’s mom when she told him he couldn’t get a treat at the grocery store).  That about raps up 2024 for the Greenes.  I hope this year’s ramblings were seen more as an unnecessary thing like a mattress pad and less like a kick in the shins.

Tuesday, November 05, 2024

God is Not Angry

When Christ appeared to the people living here on the American continent after his death and resurrection, knowing that He would be spending a relatively short period of time with them, He likely chose with meticulous care what He would share with them. During His visits, He chose to repeat the words contained in Isaiah 54 (found in 3 Nephi 22), and whatever His specific reasons were (I will never pretend to think with the mind of God), I am grateful He did. In the seventh and eighth verses, we read:


For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee. In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer.


Having been born into a family who were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I attended Sacrament meeting, Sunday School, Primary, Seminary, and Young Men’s activities regularly - you might even say religiously. Whenever I applied myself and didn’t give in to my adolescent, prepubescent, and teenage tendencies to do anything and everything within my power to divert myself and others around me, I was fortunate to have some wonderful teachers who presented lessons I can still remember these many years later. Among those teachers, of course, were both of my parents who set an unwavering example of dedication to their covenants as disciples of Christ. It would be fair to say I was raised in a home and an environment that seemed like it came right out of a Norman Rockwell painting (or whatever the “Mormon” equivalent of that would be). Before I go on, let me assure you I’m not setting you up for a twist a la “appearances can be deceiving” and lay out a life of criminality and dark shadows. 


While I had more than my fair share of teachers over the years who taught the gospel rather than their personal interpretations of the stories and doctrines we were studying, I developed my own perception of my Heavenly Father through those lessons: a God who saw things in a very black-and-white manner who was just waiting for me to step out of line one too many times so He could smite me. My perception of how I would obtain admittance into “heaven” was equally skewed: everything I did was being written down in a book out of which I would one day be judged in the hopes that I had enough “good” marks to put me over the edge. While I had these views, I did feel that I was loved by my Heavenly Father but in a rather stern manner . . . that I would one day learn to enjoy and respect. 


Fast forward to when I first became a father: over the next almost 30 years, my perceptions and views of Heavenly Father and the life hereafter have significantly changed and have been a profound source of joy and peace for me. To wit, I have come to see God truly as a Father; and being a father myself, I have been fortunate to see life akin to seeing it through His eyes to a degree. Just as I would never be happy being at odds with my sons or considering the prospect that if they don’t do as I say, they won’t be able to live with me for eternity, I have come to believe - and rejoice in doing so - that Our Father does not find satisfaction in distancing Himself from us. 


Jesus’ inclusion of those particular words of Isaiah, to me, are comforting. As He says, “For a small moment have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee,” I am reminded that this is part of God’s Plan of Salvation - His Plan of Happiness for us - that we are to be apart from Him for a relatively short period of time, but we will be showered with mercies while we are alone. Those words DEFINITELY describe a Father who is actively watching over us, not to smite us when we’ve stepped out of line one too many times, but to bless us by providing what we need to face our trials and tribulations here on earth. 


Further, He reads, “In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment.”  With my perception of God altered for the better over the last three decades, I now have trouble picturing Our Father being “mad” at us for being human.  Instead, I see the beauty of this passage: no matter how upsetting our behavior may be, He won’t show us an “angry” face - He doesn’t want to discourage us from repenting - and will shower us with mercies as we try to improve. 


Though I’ve had some reversals in my life, and I’ve experienced my share of challenges, leaving me bruised and perhaps a little scarred, I readily acknowledge that I have not had to face and live what so many others are forced to manage, ranging from wars, famine, drugs, abuse, etc. That said, though, I know what I say is true, not just for me in my relatively soft life but for every single person on this earth - for we are ALL the children of Our Heavenly Father. May each of us seek to know Him and feel His unconditional love that He has for one and all!

Friday, December 15, 2023

 HOLIDAY HASSLE 2023

In January, I started a new job (more on that later), and one of my colleagues asked me how old I was.  Before I could answer, he ventured a guess: 60?  For many of you, this Greene Family holiday missive may feel like it’s been inflicted upon you for that long, and for that I wholeheartedly apologize.

The beginning of this year found Sam starting his Junior year in college.  Fully committed to his major of computer engineering with most of his GE and prereqs out of the way, he continues to work for one of the school’s IT departments.  If that alone doesn’t make him the most attractive and eligible bachelor in the greater Provo/Orem area, he’s ratcheting up his sexiness by employing the family minivan as his mode of transportation.  It’s a 2008 Honda Odyssey that never properly got named when we had it here at home.  We threw around the name Homer, but it didn’t really stick.  So, for all of you single ladies out there, I would imagine Sam would be open to your suggestions. 

Kali and Jack moved into their first house in Mesa in the spring of this year and quickly added to their fold: they got another dog, Bruce, a Blue Healer mix whose energy is matched only by his desire to eat whatever’s on offer, even if it’s his brother Hank’s leather collar.  Kali was asked to be one of the advisors for student government at the school where she teaches (it would be weird if she were asked to advise at a different school), which gives her a little more variety while still teaching Chemistry and Mandarin.  Jack went to work for a different electrical contractor as a project engineer soon after they moved into their new house.  While the new job is giving him a lot of great growth opportunities, he’s being given increased opportunities to tune up his road rage as the project site at which he’s working is on the opposite side of the valley.  When that project wraps up, he’ll be able to move on to another project . . . next door to his current project site. 

On President’s Day, we gave leave to our senses and decided to get another dog: a mix between a Chihuahua and a Dachshund – some call it a ChiWeenie; we call ours a Psycho.  Her name is Phoebe, and among her many talents are peeing on the family room floor while looking you straight in the eye (as if she’s daring you to say something) and barking.  With the latter, whenever given the chance, she makes a beeline to the back fence and starts up a yak fest with the two pugs living behind us.  If I thought she and the pugs were doing something to solve world peace or harness the energy of splitting an atom, I’d give her a free pass, but I suspect it’s just a canine equivalent of gossip and dirty jokes.  (And I’d be okay with the latter if I could understand her.) 


A few months back, Erin switched from one real estate brokerage to another where she’s on a team headed up by the mother of one of the students at the high school where Erin worked in the library.  Funny how life makes connections for you.  When she’s not busy trying to convince a home seller that Barney Purple is NOT a color that MOST people would want to see on their kitchen walls, Erin still teaches a lesson at church with the women’s organization. 

As I mentioned, I started a new job at the first of the year – I returned to work for the company that moved us to Arizona almost 20 years ago: Ranpak.  When I left Ranpak in 2008, I felt like I was still a kid; upon returning in 2023, I’m DEFINITELY not a kid (I refer you to the opening of this message).  Older, grayer, and fatter but still the same guy selling paper-based packaging. 

We hope all is well in your corner of the world, wherever that may be!  When you find yourself (whether it’s because you lost a bet or you’re being punished) coming out to Arizona, drop us a line so we can get together and have you stay with us.  We have an empty nest with only a small dog – we’ve trained her not to pee ON anyone, but you might want to keep your suitcases on a shelf.  God bless!

Monday, December 12, 2022

Greene Family Christmas (An Annual Affliction)


We’re not even halfway through the month of December, and we’ve already been the recipient of enough family Christmas cards to wallpaper a gymnasium.
  Obviously, Erin is the one so universally beloved and deserving of these glad tidings and the reason we receive as many as we do.  As I take a gander at these perfectly posed, carefully coiffed, blissfully beatific photos, these questions leap to mind: How many hours and attempts were made to get this one photo?  How much medication was involved and/or needed afterward? Did PhotoShop stock spike a few weeks back?  Rest assured, no PhotoShop will be required for this year’s missive from The Greenes, but I can’t promise that medication won’t be needed after you read it. 

With the world slowly coming out of hiding as 2022 dawned, Sam started his second year at BYU.  In his major, there’s a class that many put off until the last possible minute but is required in order to climb into the upper levels of the program and get serious – Sam decided to bite the bullet early and subject himself to the inevitable torture.  While Sam happily came through alive and kicking, and able to move on to bigger and better things, there were times in that semester I believe he would have preferred undergoing waterboarding to some of the tests and assignments he had to endure.  He’s thrown himself headlong into his major and has joined a club/group (I’m not quire sure what the kids are calling these little organizations these days) with the goal of building an electric car to compete with other groups from other schools.  Sounds to me like he’s on a career path to buy and run a social media giant someday. 

In June of this year – in fact, on the same date as Erin’s parent’s anniversary – we welcomed a new member into the clan: please allow me to introduce you to Kali Stoker Greene, Jack’s better half.  They were married in Las Vegas, but Elvis didn’t officiate at the wedding.  Leading up to the nuptials, whenever I would tell people that Kali and Jack were getting married in Vegas, I would either get a slightly raised eyebrow or a knowing “been there, done that” nod, which would require a brief explanation that Kali is from Las Vegas where most of her family lives.  They were married in the temple for our church and not on the Strip, in case I still hadn’t painted enough of a picture for you.  As of the writing of last year’s Christmas letter, Kali was someone we had met only once, and this meeting was a memorable one: Jack had come home from work that day and made a beeline to his bedroom in the basement.  That wasn’t TOO unusual, but what ensued was two hours of furious cleaning of his bedroom, a thorough scrubbing of the basement bathroom, and the hauling out of at least three bags of garbage.  While we didn’t quite know at the moment what inspired such anomalous behavior, it soon became clear when he announced a “friend” of his named Kali was coming over to visit.  Kali is a Chemistry and Mandarin teacher at one of the local high schools, and Jack has moved from the field as an electrician and into the position of an estimator.  They currently live in a guest house on some rural property surrounded by livestock and other farm animals.  Their dog, Hank, spends his day hanging out with the jackasses – and by that, I mean, the donkeys, while Jack and Kali are off at work. 

On the day after Christmas last year, we had to say goodbye to Lola.  I’m not quite sure where religious doctrine ends and fantasy begins, but I hope we get to see her again someday.  Yes, I’ve become one of those crazy dog people.

With the wackiness of the housing market in full wack, Erin has maneuvered the real estate landscape extremely well and continues to kick butts and take names – and sometimes it’s to sell a house.  She continues to teach at church, and no one has gone to Hell because of it – win win.  As for myself, I was asked to work in an outreach program where we serve the folks in a local detention center who are awaiting trial, awaiting sentencing, or have been detained by ICE and awaiting deportation.  I’m pleased to say that my activities this past year have kept me free to come and go at this detention center 

Enjoy your holiday season with family and friends – whether you need medication or not to do it.  Our doors are always open to you.  Peace on earth and in every life!

Monday, December 06, 2021

Season's Beatings 2021

Recently, we had to keep two dogs locked inside of our home for about nine hours.  While I wasn’t so naïve as to believe that the two canines were going to be content to “hold it” for that entire time, I wasn’t expecting to find our front entryway looking like a subway station from 1989.  Fortunately, we had chosen to appoint our home with flooring that is both more attractive than pockmarked concrete and cleans up far more nicely.  Nevertheless, while a hazmat team wasn’t necessary, it took more than a few minutes to clean up . . . and that may be how you view this year’s holiday letter from the Greenes: a mess you expect to encounter that takes you more time to get through than you would care to devote.  We get it. 

With a new year, Sam began a new chapter in his life: college.  While still in the throes of the pandemic as the year began, his initial college experience was less than ideal.  He didn’t expect anything on the scale of “Animal House,” but he wasn’t quite prepared for “Watching Paint Dry” either.  Nevertheless, he was able to land himself a job right out of the gate that is far better than what Erin (grounds crew where she got a stick with a nail on the end of it to pick up trash) and I (cleaning student apartments once the tenants had moved out and clearly had no expectation of getting a dime of their security deposit back) had back in the day: working for the school’s IT department – so there might be some shades of “Revenge of the Nerds” involved here. 

Remember how I mentioned TWO dogs in the opening of this year’s missive?  No, Lola didn’t get pregnant and give birth to another dog – that would definitely be immaculate conception.  Jack moved back to Arizona from Utah for a better career opportunity (still an electrician and loving it), and he’s been living with us since so he can save money to buy a house . . . and, no, I’m not calling Jack a dog.  With Jack’s arrival came Hank, a lab mix that, I’m sure, finds Erin and me the two most boring people in the world.  All we do all day while Jack’s at work is sit at our computers in the office and talk on the phone.  No fetch, no walks.  To him this place is a tomb – he’d be better off finding a nut house where it’s fun. (If you got that reference, you’re our kind of people!)

It’s not been a good year for Lola, if I’m being honest.  First, she gets her entire life turned upside down with the introduction of Hank into her world – his exuberance to play, run, chase, and smell butts is not shared by Lola.  Then, in early fall, she developed some health problems that are likely to spell the end for her at some point in the not-too-distant future, which is a little hard to accept given the fact she never took up smoking, and alcohol has never been a drink of choice for her.  Be that as it may, we’re just trying to keep her comfortable – and if we ever make a movie about her life, I’m thinking Salma Hayek would be the perfect person to do the voice for Lola.  Let me know if you have a connection.

Back in May, Erin walked away from the school to work full time as a real estate agent.  Some of you might be wondering what it’s like having both of us working from home and sharing the same office.  While I don’t possess sufficient talent to describe this perfect mix of Nirvana and Utopia, suffice it to say the spell is broken for both of us when Lola’s licking gets a little too intense and loud to be ignored – it’s like she insists on an audience. After being the fearless leader of the local women’s organization at church, she’s been able to fade a bit into the background and help out in other ways with her main focus on teaching a lesson once a month.  As for myself, I’ve been asked to work in the local men’s organization at church as the secretary.  My latest focus has been on toning my calf muscles so they look really good when I wear those short skirts. 

With that lovely image, I leave you.  May your holidays be happy and warm – it’ll likely be in the mid 60s here in Arizona when Christmas rolls around!  Our door is always open to you – stop by and stay a while with us.  It’ll give Lola someone new to impress with her licking.

Friday, December 18, 2020

Seasons Greenings

Sitting around the Thanksgiving table with Erin’s in-laws, we were having a lovely chat with one another, and I inquired after the latest comings and goings of a particular relative.  As my father was lifting a modest forkful of stuffing to his mouth, he casually provided, “She’s oiling animals at the local zoo.”  Here’s where you’re going to get a little insight into the Greene family: upon hearing that, none of us at the table thought this was incorrect or fallible intel; rather, we all fell to trying to picture in our heads what “oiling animals” meant.  And just as I was formulating a picture in my mind of an elephant on a pneumatic lift with my relative standing underneath, my mom added this point of clarification: “She’s bathing snakes and oiling lizards.”  Well, the elephant and the pneumatic lift were out with that little nugget, and our dinner conversation didn’t miss a beat.  Just like our lack of surprise or shock regarding that Thanksgiving revelation, you’ll read through this annual missive and not think twice about how weird we are, and I’m not quite sure if that says more about you than us. 

At the beginning of this year, Sam was living and working down in Viña Del Mar, Chile, as a missionary for our church before the ‘Rona hit.  In March, he and the entire gaggle of North American missionaries were flown back to the states to await reassignment, which came in April: Dallas, Texas.  Odd coincidence here: if you stood the Chilean flag next to the Texan flag, most people wouldn’t be able to tell you which was which.  Something tells me a lot more thought went into Sam’s reassignment location besides the flags’ similarities, but there you have it.  Because of quarantine, he was able to familiarize himself quite intimately with the inside of his apartment in the Dallas area, so if you know anyone who’s looking to relocate to the DFW Metroplex, Sam is uniquely qualified to tell them all about the pros and cons of his apartment’s interior.  Sam completed his mission in November and is currently preparing to start his freshman year in college in January. 

In early August, Jack packed up his life and moved to Utah to start an apprenticeship to become an electrician.  Yes, this is the same kid who would initiate a Harry Potter war by standing twenty paces apart from another person while both are holding Roman candles and firing them at one another – and now he’s being entrusted to wire up a 4 bed/2 bath single-family residence to ensure they have sufficient electricity being supplied safely to all corners of the home.  When Jack loaded up his truck for the move, he had one bag lightly packed with his clothes, a pillow, a blanket, and enough guns and ammo to supply a mid-sized militia.  Since he didn’t report an ambush in his journey up to Utah, I trust he still has his second-amendment-protected stockpile at the ready – in fact, I believe it has grown.  If you’re in the Provo area, give him a call – he’d love to take you out into the woods and stalk something. 

Amid the quarantine, Erin decided to get her real estate license.  All of her classes had to take place online via Zoom, and she came away from that experience with a burning question: were some of her classmates possessed of an overly high level of self-confidence, unaware that they could be seen by everyone else, or did they just not own a mirror?  Undaunted, Erin passed the test on her first try, and I’m happy to report that she has already sold two houses and has other items in the works – she’ll soon be selling so much real estate that I can retire from the mortgage business and pursue my true passion: pet grooming.  Lola, our dog, is going to look awesome with a Mohawk. 

Without a doubt, it’s been a weird year, and this report from the Greenes probably adequately punctuates that truth.  Many years ago, a friend of ours in southern California said, “Promise me, Grant, that you’ll write one of these every year, and you’ll always send me a copy.”  I don’t share that with you to pat myself on the back but to let you know there’s someone else to blame for all this.  If you want, I’ll give you his name and address.  In the meantime, be safe, be strong, and be well, folks!

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Perspective

Things are slightly nuts right now, and that's probably an understatement depending on your current situation.  Whatever that situation may be, let me give you some perspective . . . but in reverse. 

Through the wonders of Facebook, when we're not reading about the latest (insert your favorite coronavirus-related rumor here), we have the ability to connect with the friends we've made over lo these many years and sort of keep track of one another.  Now, I want you take a moment and "review" your list of friends and look on them both as who they are now and who they were when you first met them.  Stay with me.

I have a friend on FB who regularly posts photos of the vegetables he's grown in his garden, and those photos usually have ten or twelve comments urging him on in his green thumb efforts.  If you met him today via one of his veggie photos, you'd feel fortunate you met him: he always has a positive outlook on life, and in those photos where he includes himself, he's always wearing a smile.  But when I met this guy, he was a punk.  No, I'm not saying that to paint him as a jerk who later reformed.  Literally, he was a punk rocker with the haircut and leather jacket - he was in a band whose logo he painted on the back of his leather jacket.  I'm fairly sure if you interviewed him back then and asked what he thought he would find joy in thirty years later, gardening would not be on the top ten list. 

Another friend is the lead singer of a country band that tours the nation.  The photos he posts show him singing at his various gigs and being with his band.  The guy I first met was on the border of shy; in a room full of people, he could sort of disappear in the crowd through his silence and conscious effort to avert all attention away from himself.  The man I first met and the man I see now on Facebook share similarities like they both have two arms and a head sitting on top of their shoulders, but that's about it. 

And I'm friends with a couple who have two beautiful children, and their photos and posts are devoted to being a family and the supreme joy they experience with one another.  When I first met them, they were just like that (only without the kids).  They were high school sweethearts, and they haven't changed a bit in personality or looks (he has less hair now but not much because he wore a flattop when I first met him).

There's nothing profound about this post.  It's just a reminder to look around you and see what has changed and what has stayed the same.  It'll be different for all of us, but it should give us the perspective to realize we have the power to be who we want to be regardless of who we were and the ability to maintain who we are even when life might try to make us to change: it's our choice.  Wherever you are in all that, choose to be your best.  Be well, my friends, and be good to each other.  The world's a little crazy; no need to add to it.