POTENTIAL

That could've been me...

2011-06-28T19:48:00.000-07:00

Recently I was an unfortunate bystander to a group of all-together great people standing around while just a simple few drug someone's name through the mud. Publicly.

Some listened.

Some laughed.

Some even participated as the raucous got tin pan louder.

I had to walk away.

I know that person. Well sort of. I know a version of that person. I know versions of the people who were there. I know versions of a lot of people. Glimpses. Snap shots or clips in a grand documentary. Tough to judge a film by the trailer, or the poster. Even the critics get it wrong.

Simply put I walked away because it could have been me they were egg-tossing. Fact. It has been me.

"Well...that person deserved it. They're all that and more than what was said. That's exactly the person I knew." Sure. Maybe. I guess. I don't really know. At all.

I guess people have a right to say whatever they want about whomever they want, but should they? Should we?

It wasn't funny. It was tympanic-tragic. It could've been any one of us.

It could have been, and often has been me. My promise to you is that if I'm in the room, it won't be you.

James William Sharp

2011-05-07T06:21:00.000-07:00

On December 29, 1927, James William Sharp was born the youngest child to Harry Reanen and Lulu Lenna Sharp. A shy and timid boy, he spend his days with his brother Aubrey learning blacksmithing, carpentry, haying, painting, fencing and trapping in the Pagosa Springs, Colorado area.

Can you picture this wiry red-headed boy in bib-overalls eagerly making his way to a one-room school house on skis behind his brother Jack? Now picture him as an adult driving extreme skiers up Little Nell on Aspen mountain in a snow-cat.

A self-described cowboy, Jim and his horse Sue roped, branded cattle and rode in the parades in Pagosa. He and Aubrey sang tunes as Gene Autrey and Ernest Tubbs - later on in life he would join late night musical jam sessions with his bride Martha, and Johnny & Sara Masco.

It was at Pagosa Springs High School that Jim wooed the eventual class Valedictorian Martha Nossman. When Martha graduated, she left for Fort Lewis College on full scholarship and Jim was heartbroken - he wrote "...I wouldn't let her go back, and then we got married."

Their lives together began December 4, 1947...and all that followed was because two people fell in love...

Jim supported his new bride ranching cattle until in 1954. During this time, they added three precious members to their union - Catherine Irene, Glen William and Roger Allen.

They packed an old International Pickup and headed for Carbondale Colorado. Their move from Pagosa wouldn't be without it's challenges. The truck broke down, all three kids contracted the Red Measles and Jim made an abrupt career change...all this in one year's time.

Going from rancher to heavy equipment operator was no small feat, but as was Jim's nature, he rolled up the sleeves of a pearl snap-button work shirt, stepped in and went to work.

It was here in Carbondale that Jim and Martha opened their home to the full-time LDS missionaries, were baptized and later sealed for time and all eternity in the Manti Utah Temple. A decision that continues to effect generations.

For 45 years "Jimmy" as he became known to his co-workers and friends, dynamited and built roads, dug culverts, cleared paths, graded dams, and dug basements for common men and Saudi Princes alike. His reputation as one of the "best operators in western Colorado" grew out of doing the impossible. Like righting a tipped backhoe off a lowboy trailer or moving a 200 ft. pine tree. As Jim wrote, "The difficult we do right away, the impossible takes a little longer." We might reflect on his life and his accomplishments and say that the impossible took 83 years.

It may have been in experiences in childhood and adulthood that prepared him for the difficulties and triumphs in life - like checking trap lines on home made snow shoes in three feet of snow, or building a dream home in Center Creek with his three children and son-in-law Dick Maddalone, nearly dieing from tick fever or rescuing a trapped bulldozer with Scrap-Iron in a fierce Colorado July blizzard.

Marrying Martha, sealing his family in the holy temple, obediently serving God as a Clerk, Branch President, on a full-time mission in Oklahoma and as pioneer of the LDS faith in the Aspen Valley are surely the hallmarks of this wonderful man's life.

For 63 years he was a faithful husband to Martha - rolled into that were duties as a father of three, and a "Grandpahhhh" to 16 who each have their special memories...like fishing in Spokane, site seeing in Kauai, being reminded that they are loved just because they were born, slices of homemade pie, shooting, hunting, extra bowls of ice cream, the black candy dish, M&M's and football games. Being lulled to sleep on the front seat of a gas truck over Wolf Creek Pass or on the back of a bulldozer on a 45 degree grade. Beating all the other Dad's at the Father and Sons foot race in his cowboy boots or beating Jarret to the end zone at a Basalt vs Glenwood football contest, painting a car or two or three, fixing everything imaginable with just a little more spit and bailing wire, losing a son to a coal mine, or gaining a posterity of 16 grand-children and 37 (and counting) great grand-children.

Forgiveness. Work. Obedience. Humility. Tenacity. Creativity. Compassion - Jim Sharp. He once said that he'd lived a life of no regrets...what a testament.

He is survived by his beautiful and dedicated wife of 63 years, Martha Irene - daughter Cathy (Dick) Maddalone, son Roger (Nancy), daughter-in-law Cheryl, two brothers Jack and Aubrey, and a sister-in-law Sara Masco.

He is preceded in death by a brother Robert Vernon, sister Eula King and his son Glen William.

We celebrate this impossibly wonderful life here on Earth. We look forward through worthiness to joining him and reminiscing more...maybe over a cup of hot Tang and some of Grandma's cookies...over the legacy set forth all because two people fell in love.

-Jarret M. Sharp
Eulogy of my Grandpa
April, 2011

References - personal notes, memories, conversations with my beautiful cousins, talks with Aunt Nancy, Uncle Roger, Uncle Dick, Aunt Cathy, photographs, prayer and fasting.

from a deleted blog called lend me your eyes....

2010-05-27T12:15:00.000-07:00

First one about my Mom, Kelly...

You gave me life in circumstances that I can only imagine were confusing to you. You gave me a chance at consistency when I think you doubted your own reality.

I have referred to myself as a 60's love child, and I mean it. I think you were in love with being in love your entire life. You loved and lived very passionately - so much so that I think you were left alone in the very darkest hours of your existence.

I am trying really hard to write something about you that is deep and meaningful - and it just isn't working out. So let me tell what I learned from you. You taught me to bead and hunt mushrooms. You taught me how to hide drugs in film canisters and to drive a stick shift.

You introduced me to a man who thought he was Jesus, and then he gave me a .22 rifle. I learned a lot about Potawatomee Indians from you, also how to pan gold and skinny dip.

I rode in my first red convertible with you, right down main street in Glenwood Springs on our way to see Star Wars. I never heard anyone sing like you until I listened to Bonnie Raite. You are the only one in the world besides my buddy Todd who could pull off calling me "J". I liked it when you called me that.

I encountered my first ghost when we broke into that mansion in Lake City, and you protected me from the cops, your high school buddy Dick White. You gave me the courage to talk to bikers while you sat in the bar and talked with your friends.

I learned about predators like Jimmie Bebopp, how to make beds, how to make a Shirley Temple, who Journey, ELO and Eric Clapton were. Did you really have dinner with him?

I knew you loved me and that you had so many regrets and from that I learned to be careful and to ask a lot of questions. You gave me Aunt Roberta, Uncle Bill's Corvette on prom night and my first taste of wild goose.

There's more, I am sure. For now, I remember your laugh and your tears. Mostly our goodbye's and the one I missed. Mom, I love you. Rest.

Next, one about my people from BHS Class of '87...

I think it was Glenn Frey who, during the "When Hell Freezes Over" tour, said "We [The Eagles] never broke up, we just took a 15 year haiatus."

Basalt High School Class of 1987, the finest group of individuals to ever grace the graduate venue, gets back together again this week. I won't be there, but my best friends will be. I like to remember them this way, but in no particular order.

Tammy Kehrig had the best smile, next to Rebekah Hasti. Scott Barnes took the hardest hit I have ever witnessed in a football game against Aspen. Tim Comroe is the only guy I have ever known who owned a 1968 GTO and then sold it, he also beat up Andrew Guerrilos with a baseball bat. Eddie Godfrey could fix a lot of stuff, I've known him since I was 2. Todd Selby played Pac-Man better than anyone, made me laugh harder than anyone and got away with more stuff than anyone except me. Bill Crowley, man could he run, and listen to Lionel Richie. Astrid Lizotte, well I could talk to her forever. Becky Woodward was beautiful. Julie Lorton had the best laugh and the best brain which made her the hottest girl in the world. David Davidson liked me anyway and made a Maverick look sexy. Alan Leslie could do anything, and does. Daniel Ritsch's brother called himself Aurelius, Daniel drove a Cougar, an Audi and was the strongest human I have ever known. Amanda Bearden and Tonja Williams were the kindest people I knew. Tami Williams took me to one dance and dumped me, I've never been the same. Kerry McCune had answers and perspective which made her majestic to me. Mr. Laffler was baffling. Jason Cohenour made me want to be a better person. Jamie Perciful gave me a glimpse of creativity. Kathleen Mesceri was a renaissance woman. Toby Robinson is the quintessential friend. Brenda Veitch was like the person I counted on, my sun, there for me. Steven Koski punched me so hard I still feel it, and was so kind afterwards, I feel that too. Veronica Kline was steel and velvet. Denise Bailey was the girl I always wanted to know better. Did Russell Bear sign his name with an X along with Theron and Bill Eiland just to freak me out? Kelly Coberly lived around the corner from my grandparents, she looked great in a pair of 501's. Michelle Morris had Hollywood eyes. Mary Hudspeth read more books than Mr. Anderson, and I think it ate at him. Kandi Bowles made we want to make sure I didn't have any boogers hanging out of my nose or food in my teeth. Mike Weed made gloves look tough. Gayle Reinke was tough. Kenny McLendon was not a chaunch - but he taught me a lot about them. Stephanie McLaine (sp?) had the best tank tops.

Some of these memories are childish, and silly, but it is how I saw things then. I sat in class with these people, some for 13 years. They were my family. They taught me and shaped me in many ways, to be who I am and who I am not.

I hope David Davidson threw out those pictures. I hope Mr. V got a raging case of the clap and finally moved out of his mother's house. I hope that Merc knew how much I loved her for telling me it would be alright. I hope Mr. Manown forgave me for calling him Moonie. If Clint Jackson ever tells me he dunked again, I will beat him up again, but I do hope he gives me back my stuff. I never pulled the fire alarm, I won't tell who did. Among other things, I did paint 1986 all over the school with fire extinguishers, but I won't tell who helped me. I still have the card that Eddie Godfrey and Astrid Lizotte delivered to my house the day after my Dad died. You all signed it.

I hope each of them has become all that they wanted to be, and that they realize that they have so much more to give and to go. If I forgot someone, it happens that they probably forgot me as well and I am fine with that. If I missed a spelling here and there, it's because I no longer teach. If I had it to do again, I would only change the amount of times I told each of you how much I love you, some more, some less. HA!

I want all of you who do remember me, to remember the good and forgive the bad. I miss you all.

We've never broke up, we're just taking another 10 year hiatus.

service...

2010-05-27T11:16:00.001-07:00

last night, after a full day at work, coaching the Glendale Parks Marlins (shout out), inhaling a PBJ by Jamie, running to the house for my loppers, trimmers, chainsaw, oilcan, gas can and tool box, trip to a local petro station for some cool bevies and then finally to the 77th avenue building....

...i gathered up 4 of the most amazing young men on the planet. i won't name names, you'll read of them some day soon.

they gave up an evening to go cut down a mesquite tree. buggar of a tree.

we gassed up, gloved up, oiled the chain up, safety goggled up and cut up. scratches and pokies notwhithstanding - another trip to the petro station for more cool bevies was in order.

we cajole, joke, poke, tease, laugh and engage in general boyhood tom-foolery. i'm a little longer in the tooth than they - but they treat me as an equal - as they do EVERYBODY.

i love those boys. i hope i grow up to be just like them. i pray God knows how much i love them, that he protects them, blesses them, guides and teaches them how to sink their roots deep and grow heavenward.

media fast

2010-05-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

I recently issued a challenge to the sr ym - coincidentally one of the most courageous group of men i've ever had the honor of serving with - to fast from all forms of media.

Not from technology.

From media.

For two weeks.

I engaged in the same.

This is my report.

It. Was. Liberating.

My thoughts are now my own. I am not tied to a news agency, defined by "my shows" or scheduled around what's on or off. I don't miss anything. Put another way, I was missing getting things done, engaging my friends, getting to know my children, reading good books.

Let me say that again...reading good books. That was for you Orion - my twin.

Media fasts aren't for everyone. Nor are good books. Hat tip to Deland for his idea. He's one creative cat.

Don't bother asking me what's going on. I no longer read 10 blogs a day, check 5 international headlines, tune in to 3 radio programs. My ear buds are reserved for yard work to drown out the hum of a lawn mower.

Sometimes it gets real quiet, and I find myself thinking about what I want, when I want.

decisions, decisions...

2010-04-21T11:22:00.000-07:00

i read somewhere, a quote by a french philosopher, basically saying that maturity includes the ability to make one choice, knowing full well that one is making that choice and willing to let go of every other option.

i am a new born baby.

The Cartel - created by BabyBoomers

2010-03-30T23:14:00.000-07:00

Watch it. Share it. Facebook it. Tweet it.

www.thecartelmovie.com

Seriously. Babyboomers are pimping our children to stay in control.

Babyboomer should be a swear word

2010-03-29T11:37:00.000-07:00

I have learned, by sad experience, that the overwhelming majority of babyboomers with whom I have worked, voted for, been supervised and evaluated by or been associated with are very good at one thing...doing everything in their power, perceived or real, to stay in control.

Control. Power. I believe that most of them lay in bed at night, white knuckling their superhero bed sheets, pulled up next to their nostrils, puffing in and out, wide-eyed with raving fear, culling Machiavellian strategies for Inquisition-like behaviors for the next day's ear-mark of controls.

I'd like to extend a personal, wax-sealed invitation to those I've mentioned above...you know who you are, with your blood-shot eyes and black finger tips - GET OUT OF MY WAY.

You've done enough. I'm sure there's more destruction and mayhem to cause, but if you take inventory of your handy work, you'll see nothing but red, so leave. Please. Do whatever it is you have to do and just get out of the way.

We're going to get the planet eventually. All of your plastic work and manipulation of the gene pool will only seal your fate. You'll be unable to function, all you'll be able to do is watch as we dismantle, repair, pound your excesses into powder.

Please. Go. Now.

Intrigue...

2010-03-17T20:13:00.000-07:00

This should change the terrain of teaching and education across the landscape...it hasn't. I'd like to know why.

Good people tell me...

2010-03-10T04:58:00.000-08:00

...all kinds of good things.

I just want to say thank you. I'm listening, even if I don't act like it.

J.

I'm not much of a Toby Keith fan...

2010-03-08T10:23:00.000-08:00

...but that cat has a song out right now about the death of a friend that pretty much captures how I feel today.

And I grippingly ask myself "How is it that you can get so caught up in the clutter of the day so as to neglect telling someone how much they've done for you?"

I don't have a valid answer. I just sort of reel in all the things I do, try to do and then don't no...then there's the stuff that I don't even know I'm supposed to be doing and don't do.

Doug, I forgot to tell you how much I love you. You treated me like a son. You listened to me, taught me stuff about being a father and a husband. I love you. I love your family.

I know its part of the plan, but I don't feel really happy right now. I know its better there. I know you're asking all the questions you and I talked about. I know that you were prepared and that Father welcomed you. I know you've kicked in the work like never before. I know that you are running with your folks (please tell Harry I miss him too). But still...

I selfishly shed tears.

J.

I notice, I wonder...

2010-03-04T10:16:00.000-08:00

Got a little distracted at the desk in my "octopus" (affectionate term for my office, 8 tentacled monster that she is) yesterday. If I'm not doing what I'm 'sposed to, I daydream.

I was gazing into a rough-hewn picture frame containing one of my most cherised earthly possessions ever. A aging photo of my Dad and I, circa 1972.

I notice my Dad's bell-bottomed brown courdoroys, steel-toed hiking boots and he's rolled the sleeves on a yellow-thread bare button-collar oxford. Both hands are half in pocket, relaxed at the wrist. He's parting his chestnut brown hair down the middle, his head cocked carefully to one side sporting a crooked grin. He closes his mouth to hide a chipped tooth, but at this distance who could tell.

His shirt hides a shoulder and chest laden burn scar from when he was 4 years old. It's violent, but contributes to the lean in his stance. I wonder if he's protecting it.

Glen stands in front of a pastel pink and ivory 1955 Chevy Bel-Air. 4-door. The wheels are plain dingy black, caked with Colorado-red dirt. They rest on a bed of snow and mud. The thick wind-shield glass gives no indication of the time of day.

The skeletal charcoal oaks frame the background, leafless, scratchy. Even further back is an amoeba-shaped single axle camp trailer, door's askew, giving us a glimpse of empty space colored black.

To his left, our right, is a little boy astride a metallic Irish green Huffy tri-cycle, streamers peeling from the handle bars, mud and snow crusting the six-spoke ivory rims. He gazes sideways and right with a hero-worship stare underneath an over-sized dingy white derby. Hard to say what he's wearing, it's lost in that gaze.

I wonder if my son will ever look at me like I'm looking at my father. And I wonder if he does, will I have earned it.

J.

speeding orb peeling through space...

2010-03-02T19:49:00.000-08:00

i leaned back, trying to smother my physical self in the worn chevy seats of my presidential carpool, hoping beyond a concept of hope that i could catch a glimpse of something more important than today.

maybe i could snap a mental image that would interrupt the things i keep thinking about. a cloud? nope. how about someone's face a fellow traveler? nothing.

maybe today i blinked and i missed it.

watch out world, tomorrow i will have my eyes wide, can't hide, going to ride

this speeding orb peeling through space.

An ode to CFA Kids...

2010-02-26T10:53:00.000-08:00

I am a pathfinder. I am an innovater. I refuse to speak the word "can't". Thousands of times I have been told no, you are too small, you can't possibly do that, it's a bad idea or it can't be done.

I remain.

Drill Sergeant Pint used his stone jaw and 2 pack a day vocal cords to tell me he would personally "...run you outta here old man...". Mr. Bob Colette pointedly let my sternum and my ear drums know that he would make sure I never amounted to anything. And it could be argued that the circumstances I found myself in over my life would lend themselves to anything but triumph over adversity.

I remain.

Amongst the throngs of prognosticators who doubted me, there were those of you have never doubted. My father, my patriarch, my matriarch, my Father. When I have stumbled, fallen and looked up through a veil of tears, you were there to encourage me, giving me a standing ovation for coming in last...no...for finishing the race.

I remain.

I can. I am a pathfinder. Don't waste your time telling me no or that it can't be done. I know that it can be dreamed, designed, tried, failed, tried again and done.

I remain.

Are you still my princess?

2010-02-25T10:05:00.000-08:00

I used to ask Rachael that every night before I kissed her and tucked her in, later in phone calls it morphed into Good bye Princess and then she'd say, "I miss you" and I'd reply "I love you" and that would go on for several exchanges...until it was time to hang up.

I hate the hang up like I hate I hate the throw up. Chunder. Blunder. Excuse me I do.

...Elle now tells me she's still my princess and I ask her, "Are you sure?", "Yes Dad, I'm sure!" as the hugs and kisses are exchanged.

I want the world to know that I am so lucky to have two princesses. Two beautiful daughters that give me hope. Clean. Bright. Brilliant so true.

J.

Breaking up...

2010-02-23T10:40:00.000-08:00

FaceBook, you aren't who you used to be. I don't even know you anymore. You've changed so much, I just can't keep up with you. The people you hang with...well you know what, I just don't fit in with them, maybe I never did.

Late nights, early mornings, it's just too much of a commitment. All the latest chicken coops, bedazzling games and flashy photo ops, mobile on the move posting and large fan groups...I can't keep up. I guess I'm just not cut out for it, for us...for you.

I think you'll do fine without me, you have plenty of friends, fans and well...followers. Best of luck to you. I will always have the good memories.

So this is good-bye. I'm breaking up with you. We're over, through, done...

J.

13

2010-02-22T11:05:00.000-08:00

I've always loved this number. There's too much of people telling me it's "unlucky" and I, in true form, rebelled against the tide of pitchforks and torches on behalf of 13.

Christ and the 12. No 13th floor, except there is in reality a 13th floor, they just don't number it.

So in remembrance of so many 13's...and of 13 years...Happy Anniversary Jamie. You married a rebel with a cause to celebrate 13 more.

on being authentic...

2010-01-10T20:39:00.000-08:00

it might be too much trouble to ask, but i really would like it if people were more authentic. maybe if we all took the time, i mean really slowed it down a bit, granny gear'd it, and contemplated our own authenticity...i might get some answers to my selfish questions like...

...why'd you do it? why'd you say it? why'd you choose it? ...and so on. just tell me so that we can all get back to doing what we want instead of trying to figure you out. when i say you i mean anyone that i just don't understand at all.

i have a sister named jayme, she looks exactly like my mother.

i have a brother named joshua, he's a collegiate wrestler.

haven't spoken to them in a dozen years or more, since mom passed. i miss them.

i wonder what will is up to.

life is brilliant. cut straight out of a supernova brilliant.

Gifts

2009-12-25T21:15:00.000-08:00

I spoke with Elder Kieffer and Elder Korben today. They are safe. They are healthy and they are becoming men. Korben bore powerful testimony of his mission, how he is learning to "...love people like I never imagined possible..." and how he wants to "...be a better son of Heavenly Father...". Kieffer shared his humility in teaching and learning from people who have so little.

I got also got a shirt.

I heart Ben Franklin...

2009-10-20T04:58:00.000-07:00

As it relates to climate change reforms, banking reform, health care reform and industrial reforms, please carefully read on;

"The resentment of the people will, at times and on particular incidents, burst into outrages and violence upon such [elected officials], and this naturally draws down severity [of judgment] and acts of further oppression from hence.

The more the people are dissatisfied, the more rigor will be thought necessary; severe punishments will be inflicted to terrify; rights and privileges will be abolished; great force will then be required to secure execution and submission [to the will of the elected]; the expenses will become enormous; it will be then thought proper, by fresh exactions, to make the people to defray it; thence, the [elected officials] will become odious, and the subjections to them will be deemed no longer tolerable; [civil unrest] ensues and the [financially and socially] bloody struggle will end in absolute slavery [to the people], or ruin to the [elected officials] by the loss of [their people's faith]; the latter more probable, from the [peoples] growing strength and magnitude."

Excerpted from The Compleated Autobiography by Benjamin Franklin, pp. 66

Editorial additions by Jarret M. Sharp

Joe, you inspire me...

2009-08-25T19:18:00.001-07:00

...now give me my book back. Party foul. You've had it long enough.

Sincerely,

Jarret

This just in...

2009-07-08T12:03:00.000-07:00

Congress Blasts 'Outrageous' Security Breaches at Nation's Federal Buildings
The Government Accountability Office released a report detailing how investigators carried liquid bomb-making materials past security at 10 federal buildings in 10 cities. - Fox News Report

Seriously...

...yet as our children face pornography, immorality, gender blending, drugs, ethics violations and theft of tax payer dollars on a daily basis...

...Congress remains eerily silent on these matters.

I believe that if there's anyone even thinking of running for ANY office - NOW is the time! NOW!

Family Reunions...

2009-06-23T12:23:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: My eldest Rachael attended the reunion - what a beauty! A rare and wonderful woman who calls herself my daughter and I glow like a magnesium phos trace round down range on a humid Afghan night, destined for a Taliban dome. My cousin Mike cooks a fine plethora of smörgåsbord, dry-rubbed/smoked meats, pies and the like. Terry can still throw a frozen rope. Dave likes to remind everyone about the time I pooped my pants and I love to tell his kids what a great and wonderful friend he was to me - I know, its a rather lop-sided affair that one, but I still love Dave very much...he saved my life more than once. He really did. James and Abby have the most wonderful children - I love them dearly. Will's kids are my boys. Wendy and Tim bring us to our knees with their children's smiles (sorry for mixing up the boys' names Wendy). And finally...trust your gut when the kids take off running in the gully - thanks for having my back Dad.

This weekend I am missing one to go to one (pregnant pause) I know you all well enough to know that you'll entertain an brief but all the same heartfelt explanation.

I recently returned from the Peoria Arizona Stake Youth Trek, where I was honored to be a Bosen, serving as a big brother to 15 amazing people. You may not know this, but Jessica Alba was a Bosen too. That's right. So was Moxxy Michaun and Mahvelous Miriam and Phather Phil.

I'm told we walked 17 miles, starting at 1:30 pm and ending at 1:30 am. No food. Some drink. At one point, the men were called to serve in the US Army and the women pulled .5 miles up hill. The Bosen girls took that hill like a storm unleashed on a dark night. Even loaning two of ours to another group to help them make the last little bit. Stunning.

I could write a book. I won't. The highlight for me...passing the Sacrament with the Bishops in our Stake. Thank you. Ma and Pa, brothers and sisters, thank you. I'll miss you this weekend, I'm headed north to reunite with the Smith's and Sharp's.

The sum total of who I took on that trek, includes all the people I will see this weekend. I was contemplating the totality of my life to this point and rekindling all those memories in preparation for The Gathering.

The Gathering consists of all the cousins over 40, in lawn chairs, gripping some legal beverage (root beer or lemonade that grandma made) and re-telling old tales with greater emphasis on their role in the story as victor or victim. As a relative outsider, my skills as a raconteur have to be Jordanesque or I could get trampled by larger families who have more influence.

You'll here about the Basalt vs. Aspen football legacy (concussions earned trying to sack my athletic cousin Terry), rappelling, bb gun wars, fires, eggs, pancake eating contests, milk drinking contests, missions, tubing and the occasional stake dance tale as well. Nieces and nephews will marvel at our escapades - legendary in our own minds - now ensconced in theirs.

We'll eat like kings, burn our balding heads, stay up all night playing card games and poking fun at each other. Our wives will snicker and our Mom's will grin when we stretch the tale a bit. When our bellies distend with too much meat and sauce and our breath carries the stench of too many pieces of pie, we'll retire, blessed with charmed lives, graced with youths that belong in the theaters.

When we part, as we did on the Trek, we will all be better for the experience. I reverently declare...

My Life is Brilliant.

Everyone should have one of these...

2009-05-20T07:42:00.000-07:00

Last night I awoke (to be perfectly honest it was this morning, early, very very early - to me) to that sound that your kids make when you know they are going to throw up.

Different sounds for different kids - and typically they are still in denial about the actuality of the act - accompanied by a silent whine.

In Elle's case, she waveringly cries out, sniffs, yawns and cough-gags.

I am instantly sitting up - reminiscent of my days as a wrestler when my core responded on command. So I like to think that it is instant, but it probably takes me a few seconds - 10 - to get upright or up right as the case may be.

Jamie calls for The Bowl. A large red popcorn bowl that we use for catching the stomach leavings and depositing them in the main.

So I hurdle the laundry baskets, stacks of books, elliptical and other sundry items - down the hall through the kitchen, pantry (its still dark) fling open the door, snatch the wrong red bowl, put it back, grab the right one and make my way back to the room.

Elle has held her ground quite well, until she sees the bowl, and in a Pavlovian way - she lurches as I hoist her and the bowl away from the bed - and it happens.

So I am holding her, the bowl, her hair and trying to rub her back (she's asking for this in between episodes). The bowl gets a workout. And when she's finished with round three, I ask if she's okay.

"Maybe I can have some Sprite now Dad."

Get yourself a good puke bowl.

Life is brilliant.

When I think of Grandpa

2009-05-18T14:46:00.000-07:00

I remember the time he pulled me aside and handed me a silver dollar - 1896 or thereabouts. I have 8 years on the planet at this point in my life. I still have it.

I turn it over in my hands, looking at lady liberty and the ridges on the outside - "Thank you Grandpa." as I heft the weight of it and wonder how much its worth.

Anyway, he says "I used to have stacks of these on my dresser." So I asked him what happened and he looks me in the eye and says, "My children never went hungry and they always had shoes."

I still don't know what the coin is worth - don't care. I'd trade it in for some more days or words.

Bon jour Mom.

2009-05-10T10:16:00.000-07:00

Jamie
Mom, Wendy, Amy, Debi, Abby
Grandma Sharp
Myrna MEMom
Grandma Hazel
Grandma Smith
Aunt Cathy
Grannie
Grandma Sievers
Grandma Nancy
Aunt Barbara
Aunt MaryBeth
Aunt Lori
Aunt Marsha
Aunt Nancy
Aunt Suzie
Aunt 'Berta
Kelly
Jayme
Merc
Ms. Hood
Mrs. Artz
Mrs. Grant
Mrs. Wall
Mrs. Comroe...and all the rest...

Happy Mother's Day - May God Bless you and keep you forever.

A perfect storm...

2009-05-08T10:45:00.000-07:00

Notice that I don't refer to it as the perfect storm. That's for other men to proclaim.

More on this in a moment, I need to churn my thoughts a bit...

I am an unapologetic Independent. The left side of the aisle has some good, the right side has some as well - and it pains me to say that since I feel as though they abandoned me so long ago. Ditched by the loud-mouth dogmatism of the conservatives.

By declaring publicly that I am independent, over Michael Medved's vocalized judgments, I realize that I stand alone. Frankly, that is when I do some of my best work - so I am fine with island politics.

This storm that is brewing, has my attention. And as a practicing member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I realize that some might be quick to jump to the conclusion that by storm, I mean signs of the times. To that I answer, well, I am not a prophet and moreover, I don't really dwell on the doom of things. My day to day life has enough slings and arrows and I don't really have the time to follow the rantings of Mr. Beck - Mormon or not (apologies to those whom I love dearly who, for their own benefit, worship Mr. Beck). So, signs or no, my storm is mine, I define it as I see it, quite subjectively.

I picked the word storm, because storms allow you to prepare, even if they come quickly. Storms are also temporary, some very damaging, but generally they are necessary to the growth/life-cycle of our planet - of our lives.

What portends this storm? Here are some of MY observations of the skies;

1. President Obama asked to expand the Consumer Product Safety Commission from 3 to 5 members and advanced a request to increase their budget by 55%. The CPSC keeps your kids from eating plastic. I think that it's my job to keep my kids from eating plastic. Not the Executive Branch of a Democratic Republic.

2. Health care reform is right around the corner with sweeping policies that will water down medical school training and establish panels or commissions who will decide on things like whether or not your treatment, age and condition warrant government/health care intervention. I believe it's my job to take care of my body. If, God forbid, I am dying, then I deserve the very best care that I can afford, and the treatments that work - regardless of what big pharma lobbies for legal and safe. There are medicinal practices that have been healing and saving long before the sophists in white coats and black robes gathered together and created a curriculum for job security and certification.

3. What caused the economic downturn was the willingness for good men and women to lie to get things that our parents had to work very hard to earn. And once our parents earned it, they stayed put, made do or did without. They strove to be good people, not to live in what was perceived to be the finest or safest neighborhoods (that was a shot over the bow of the boats that shipped out to a place called Surprise, Arizona). Now that they've been caught in the lie - when I say they - I mean anyone who lied - the Executive and Legislative branches of government have taken it upon themselves to solve it. I believe in correct principles and self-government. I believe that if I decide to cook a grenade when I've been told not to, I will live the consequences. If anyone argues "nobody told them the consequences" I just scratched you off my Christmas list. Nobody told me how to raise my kids, and in spite of how I was raised - maybe in some cases because of - my children are amazing.

4. My great grand children will pay taxes on the expansive nature of our government. Their liberties are being stripped away as their spirits reside with my Father in Heaven. Liberty is most sacred and I believe it is an eternal principle. Here's where I yell...AND WHEN MEN AND WOMEN, PEOPLE IN THE FLESH, PLAN AND IMPLEMENT POLICIES THAT USURP ETERNAL PRINCIPLES THEY ALIGN THEMSELVES WITH AN ORIGINAL PLAN TO MANDATE AND MANIPULATE PEOPLE INTO CHOOSING A PATH THAT THEY OTHERWISE MIGHT NEVER CHOOSE. DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR TO ANYONE - MOST ESPECIALLY MY FELLOW LDS? GOSH! NAPOLEON DYNAMITE GOSH! This means that the present governments, beginning 1918 (see the original Panic leading to a Depression) believe that we - middle-brow citizens - are incapable of walking and chewing gum. They think - they being both parties - that we can't fix this. WRONG ANSWER, THANKS FOR PLAYING, PLEASE RESIGN. We can. Just get out of the way, please. Seriously. Leave. You wicked wicked people - GET OUT.

YOU GOOD GOOD PEOPLE - in the words of the Spartans (yes Dallas, I know a thing or three about Spartans)- GET IN OR GET ON!

I've tried to take the time to think this post through. I realize by speaking out against the present elected officials, my conspiratorial theorist friends warn that my name is on a list. Look, I've been on lists my whole life. Mr. Hayes, former principal at Basalt Elementary can attest to this.

I want to make sure that I don't come off the slightest bit RushBeckiSean. Those permanent residents of Dou#(%@*#!*^an are cacophonous sirens in the moors of conservatism spewing talking points that their ghosts edit for personality. (that was pretty good wasn't it?)

I know that our lives are going to continue to change. I expect my Savior to come sooner rather than later and I look forward to it - I miss Him and I know He will unite us, because He loves us, in a way that will resolve and allow us to create - reach our potential.

A perfect storm is brewing. Please be prepared to love one another, to do battle willingly for these things we hold dear. Most especially for our families, our country, our God and our liberties. Be ready to clean up and move forward. Be obedient Jarret.

I smell rain...don't you love the smell of rain?

Storms are brilliant!

Elder McBride writes...

2009-04-23T19:13:00.000-07:00

April 20, 2009

Dad, Jamie, Eli, Elle

How are you all? Is is my P-Day (preparation day) and its the day to write letters so here we are. I got your package today! Thank you sooo much! My first package in the MTC (Missionary Training Center). A much needed package :). I love the mini Preach My Gospel! Its prodigious! All of my district is jealous of it. And the goodies are much appreciated.

To let you know all that is going on here, the work of the Lord is going forth. If is very hard work! When the lights go out here, sleep comes pretty easy haha. We are loosing ourselves in the work if you will. What an honor it is to be missionary. I can't stop looking at my badge, bearing the name of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. It's great!

I hope all is well in AZ. How is the school? Let my big sisters know I am thinking of them. How are you Eli and Elle? I hope you guys are doing great and behaving. I love all of you. Pray always. Thank you for all of your love and support. The gospel is true!

"Shall we not gon on in so great a cause?"
-Joseph Smith

Love always,

Elder McBride

I don't have a snappy title for this one...

2009-04-19T20:20:00.000-07:00

This blog is about potential - I often have to remind myself of that fact. This post is a long one on potential so please bear with me. It's also a personal experience - and for that I apologize. I do ramble a bit and I might be up in the night about what I say, but...as all bloggers know, it's the risk we take.

I am about to expose you to potential on three fronts;

1. The potential for hatred.
2. The potential for fear.
3. The potential for confusion.
4. The potential for clarity and purpose.

The Sahauro Ranch Ward hosted a Ward Picnic last night. Our friends the Stowells reserved the double pavilion at Sundance Park in Peoria, AZ, weeks ago. Preparations for the event began a while back - anticipating a great turn out for ward conference and a last chance to hang out - outside - before it gets stinkin' hot.

We got a call from our friend, around 4:30, saying that she'd been to the park and that present the pavilion was occupied with some hostiles who refused to leave even when presented with the reservation paperwork. She shared that she called the Park Ranger, who'd be there at 5, but was worried about being there alone - would we come.

Worried about being alone in America, broad daylight on a Saturday. What has become of us?

So, we loaded up the fam, and drove to the park, waiting for our friend to arrive. I noted that the pavilion was indeed occupied by a couple of families who'd set up for what looked like a birthday party. Some were playing volleyball, others walking about and grilling, kids on the play structure. Seemed innocent enough.

I approached and introduced myself asking if they'd reserved the pavilion and if they knew if there was a conflict in events. They said they had no reservation and commented that they'd already let us know that they weren't leaving. I kindly offered to show them our permit and let them know that we had to set up as we had a church event, offering to help them move their party to the adjacent pavilion. It turns out that was a bad idea.

What followed was a verbal tirade of racial, sexual, physical and mental threats. I was approached by three men who circled me, spit on me, barked at me and threatened to kill me. The women in their group began to issue threats and verbal assaults on my wife and children, to include our friend and her children. I was encouraged to leave in so many different ways and on various different animals, accompanied by my wife who it turns out was an overweight harlot. This went on for about 3 minutes.

If you are trying to imagine the heightened nature of this situation - nightmarish comes to mind.

Now, come with me if you will to a place inside my heart and mind that only few, if any know about. I've always said to myself and to a few others, that if I had to, I could kill - in defense of my country and my family. I am trained to kill in a couple of different ways. I've a bit of a temper when it comes to threats on my life and on my wife's well-being. As these men surrounded me, I have to tell you that I don't remember a thing, except "going white". Everything went white. I could see shadows, I could hear the threats, I watched specifically for body language, and knew the precise position of my family members and friends. My own private hell.

The Park Ranger arrived and they began verbally assaulting her as well and she confronted them with potential fines and arrests for their current and past behaviors. All the while, I was reminded that my race and bible reading people were hated, that I was a coward and that I would be harmed in many different ways then and later in the night.

That's when I experienced fear. Not for me, but for the ward family, and for the family that was issuing the threats. I went to a place where, I knew I could do what had to be done if it had to be done. And I was ashamed of myself for it, but I didn't know what else to do or to think.

Three police officers arrived. Worthless. Confusion.

They politely escorted the threatening individuals away from the park and then proceeded to tell me that there was nothing that could be done about what had happened. They never bothered to take my name, ask me if I was armed, if I had warrants for my arrest, nothing. They did the same favor to the other offending party, allowing them to leave without questioning or gathering of information.

I live in a country where I am hated for who I worship and what I believe. I am hated for the color of my skin, moreover the lack thereof. I am hated for having a family who called the police in hopes to prevent anyone harm. I didn't even know I was hated for those things, at those levels. All for a pavilion and a birthday cake.

I am embarrassed that I did nothing to defend the honor of my wife and children. I am embarrassed that I stood alone and allowed men to bark at me and spit on me and did nothing. I am ashamed that I am still angry and that I want some time alone with those men.

As the night progressed, ward members arrived, getting snippets and sound bites of what happened. I didn't really speak with anyone about what happened. I couldn't. Brigham said this amazing prayer, asking for protection, and I admit wondering if it was enough.

Some said they wished they had been there. I am not so sure about that. I would never want anyone to hear what I heard or be faced with the choice I made to do nothing or do something and lose everything.

Some were brazen enough to joke about it - and that made me wonder about what else people find funny. I was struck by the vocalized negativity all around me, all night, and even made attempts to stifle it. I'd had my share of negativity for the night - for a lifetime - but some people feed on that mess. What?

We made it home without incident. I watched my rear view and checked my site lines at the gas station, keeping my movements fluid and my patterns deliberate.

We talked about it as a family when we got home. My son was worried that they were going to take me away and Elle was angry that they yelled at her. Jamie wanted to feed me, and I just sat there.

Elle moaned all night, and Jamie and I traded fits of sleep with wide-eyed wonderment over the noises on the street.

In America. Peoria, Arizona.

I wrote the BlueFalcons of the Peoria Arizona Police Department. I wrote the Mayor of every Sanctuary City in Arizona. I've confronted people smoking pot in the park at a family reunion. I've confronted people smoking pot in front of my YM at Havasupai. I will continue to do so.

The battle rages all around us. Good versus evil. Make no mistake, when we try to endeavor to do great things, we will encounter adversity. If we are not prepared, we may not triumph.

I follow Thomas S. Monson, the living prophet of God. I believe in Christ. I do not apologize for who I am or what I believe. I love my family. I live for them, for my friends, and for tomorrow - whatever it brings.

I understand why I was there. It was about destroying or corrupting our ward. It was about the battle that rages all around us. About our temple. About our families. I know understand that I was protected. My family and friends were protected. We were surrounded by the adversary. I know it. I know now that it was not my battle to fight, not that day. It was mine to represent, and I hope that I didn't let my wife and children down.

"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me -- and there was no one left to speak for me."

-Martin Niemuller

Martin was a Protestant Pastor in Germany during WWII. Someone you should know.

An Apostle's Easter thoughts on The Savior

2009-04-12T09:18:00.000-07:00

Ode to Korben

2009-04-06T20:15:00.000-07:00

Life is Like a Noodle Forest

Three Sisters invited me
To a place I thought I'd never see.

Two colors of noodles covered my gaze
Two colors of noodles went on for daze.

Rambunctious younglings darting to and fro,
Bouncing off pillars of noodle whoa!

And when I thought their progress was halted,
Upright they came only just getting started.

I paused a bit before entering in,
Tremors of fear from the cacophonous din.

Only then did I happen upon an epiphany,
Real life is happening all around me.

When there seems no end to the two-colored forest,
Follow the children, they're the brave and the surest.

And if you happen to catch a noodle pillar in the dome,
Jump up and drive on - for you'll soon be home.

To write Korben on his mission;

He's 3 weeks here;

Elder Korben Mitchell Sharp McBride
Washington Spokane Mission
Provo MTC
2005 N. 900 E.
Provo, UT 84604

2 years here;

Elder Korben Mitchell Sharp McBride
Washington Spokane Mission
820 S Pine Road
STE 101
Spokane Valley, WA 99206

Of farewells and open houses...

2009-04-05T19:18:00.000-07:00

I recently read an email from Elder Kieffer. I suppose his learning curve is steep, but some of the things he writes surprise me a great deal. But even in my surprise I find parallels to life here - and that makes me wonder.

To whom do we owe allegiance and gratitude? To whom do we pledge our lives?

C.S. Lewis speaks more eloquently than I on this subject - pointing to The Fall and how most think that it had something to do with sex when in all reality it had more to do with us trying to separate or create our own happiness removed from God.

Kieffer writes to his brother Korben about an upcoming farewell - which we've been asked to no longer facilitate and this gets straight to the point of my diatribe but I will come 'round to it in a bit - and how there's no other time in your life when everyone comes to see you and only you, except when you leave on a mission and then again when you come home.

Kieffer's mistaken of course. Several people have come round to see him and only him at various times in his life, when he was born, for example, and when he got staples in his dome for another.

I suppose that recognizing his overstatement isn't that big of a deal - except for this - he tethers it to a sacred duty and an honorable thing - that of serving a full time mission for God. Teaching people about Jesus Christ. Therein lies the rub.

If people come just to see you off, are they missing the point of why you've committed in the first place? To serve God? If we come to see the man - creating happiness or unhappiness in his event - I believe we've stolen grace from our Savior who's made the event possible in the first place.

Perhaps that's why we're asked not to host/facilitate farewells and homecomings. Its a distraction from God, hoisting a spotlight for an individual. Giving glory where its not deserved.

I don't believe in open houses and farewells for anyone unless we can acknowledge those who make quiet sacrifices and perhaps stay home from a mission to care for an ailing mother or for the single mother who teaches primary while caring for an autistic son. I don't believe that we should ever tie gospel glory to any one single individual apart from recognizing the principles upon which that service is rendered.

The scriptures are full of very real examples of life that follows the choices people make when they place the glory or popularity of a man, even when he's my son, over the principles of truth or even, upon total accident and complete ignorance, at the expense of never shedding a sliver of light on the quiet and equally important acts of those who just serve and do so for the pure love towards their God.

I take some risks writing this. Already, I've offended friends and loved ones by verbalizing my thoughts. I realize that even the notable and valiant servants do so for the love of God - but I believe that they taint their service when they allow others to place wreaths on their heads and laud them - it distracts from God and from others who serve just as, and in some cases more, diligently.

And...where does it end?

All the talk in the last few weeks of special meetings, first conferences and even hearing from the pulpit one man say "Bring everyone" referring to a change in leadership - bring everyone? Why now? Why not three weeks ago? Why not bring everyone every Sunday? If our church is true, if the doctrines are the breath of life, why not invite everyone every single Sunday of our entire lives?

I'll admit I've got an atomic sub-particle of Teancum in me, but if I go one more Sacrament Meeting without hearing the word "Atonement" or hearing someone talk about a special meeting or the first with this group or that group - I am going to loose it.

Its not about us, you or me. Not about Elder Kieffer or Elder Korben. Its about Christ and the other - the absence of self.

My Savior is Brilliant.

First 5...

2009-03-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

Okay. I have never done this before. Seriously. But Miriam threw down the gauntlet, and I am never one to ignore a challenge.

The first 5 people to respond to this post will get something made by me.

I will get it done this year.

I will make it for just you.

I hope you like it anyway.

AND...you have to do the same post on your blog for others. Honor system.

Miriam is brilliant!

Franklin Gomez

2009-03-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

I watched the NCAA Div I Wrestling Finals yesterday. March Madness takes on a different meaning in my home - you can discuss what basketball means to me over the phone if you'd like. For me, it's all about wrestling.

I was astounded at the quality of athlete appearing in each of the weight divisions. Physically these men are specimens, with skills that they have honed for decades taking them to this point. For seniors, this is it. There's no professional ranks to take them past collegiate mats. No fat cash endorsements, cars or groupies. No agents to cloud their perceptions of reality. Just the sport. The competition.

Three wrestlers stood out to me.

Franklin Gomez, 133 lbs., Michigan State. Born in the Dominican Republic, raised in Puerto Rico and eventually making it to the United States and earning a scholarship to Michigan. He was not expected to win so handily, and yet when asked about he match just after his win he says, "I am so grateful for this country, to be an American. I am so grateful to God for my blessings." Exactly.

Ryan Williams, 141 lbs., Old Dominion. Never placing better than 7th place in a state tournament as a high schooler (which is significant when you look at all other finalists who've often won 4 state championships), this kid presses forward and his college coach notices a work ethic and keeps him on the team. He places second in his third season as a collegiate wrestler, loosing to an undefeated senior from Ohio State. Almost unbelievable.

Anthony Robles, 125 lbs., Arizona State. "He didn't beat me because I was born with only one leg. He beat me tonight because he's the better wrestler. It's that simple."

I love this sport for many things, but mostly for the characters it attracts. The Cayle Sandersons, Dan Gables, John Smiths, Henry Cejudos and those mentioned above.

Wrestling is Brilliant!

A little perspective...

2009-03-19T21:36:00.000-07:00

"All my life I have done what had to be done."

So goes the opening line of my Great-great Grandfather Welch Nossman's life story.

I picked it up the other day after Tim told me I should be reading it to Eli and Elle as bedtime stories. So we did, and since then we have been, reading it every night.

I came across a portion that explains the prices of goods and how hard they had to work to acquire dry goods and resources for sustaining life in Pella, Iowa. They had Bee Trees and sold beeswax in town, using the money to buy what they needed.

As Welch writes he comments that The Great Depression wasn't near as bad as the period following the Civil War. He states that it took 12-14 years after the war before things turned to normal. He remembers that then he could hardly get anyone to buy an ear of corn, and that during the Depression it was still selling for $1.12 a bushel.

They worked saw mills, limestone quarries, bee trees, crops and gardens. They did what they had to do.

I called Grandma Sharp and asked her about the Depression. She told me that she never knew any different because they were always provided for and her parents were always happy. She remembers seeing a check for the sale of cattle for $600, knowing that it had to last all year, and seeing her Mom, Grandma Hazel, shed a tear over that situation - but all in all, they got through it, they did what they had to do.

Note - I have a picture of my Grandma Hazel slinging a double barrel 12 gauge while her daughters hold up a dead chicken-hawk by each wing. Seriously.

Bees, cattle, Civil War, Depression. Look, I don't mean to diminish in any way what we have all been through and will go through - but our ancestors know what it was like. They have perspective. We can get through this.

Be obedient. Do what needs to be done.

Life is Brilliant!

For more on Welch go here

Reflecting on blessings...

2009-03-08T19:43:00.000-07:00

Call it dumb luck. Call it providence. How a kid from a western Colorado ends up working the candy counter in the BYU Bookstore, meets Mark Crockett, and a year later is an Associate Vice President for BYUSA - the Student Government. Serving with the likes of Charlie Freedman, Kim Slothower and Dale Benson - I stood on their shoulders in all that I did and anything I accomplished was because someone believed I could, when I quite clearly, on my own, was unqualified.

I learned so much about potential, budgets, service, sacrifice, love, God, people.

Many of these people shaped my testimony of my Savior, how I evolved as a man, a father and a husband. They've to the letter gone on to do so many amazing things and continue to change the landscape around them for the better.

And now, as I read a recent email from Andrew, learning, as I suspected, that he is now serving on a High Council and watching today as Darin took the stand as a member of our Stake Presidency, I reflect on the men who have helped me, taught me and continue to be an example to me.

I'd like to be like these guys when I grow up.

Good men and women triumph when they make a difference to just one person. That difference will impact the eternities by virtue of the true teachings that permeate the home, relationships, posterity and daily actions of the person they touched.

Friends are brilliant.

30 minutes of your time please.

2009-03-05T22:07:00.000-08:00

To learn more about me, go here.

Organized religion is brilliantly imperfect. God is brilliantly perfect.

Every day stuff...

2009-02-26T05:32:00.000-08:00

Korben's here before he leaves on his mission. He asked me to cut his hair. I did. He looks beautiful to me. What a blessing to be around him and to be allowed to share every day stuff.

Korben - I love you very much. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being a wonderful brother. I am so lucky to have you as a friend, to be your Dad.

Haircuts are brilliant!

Humanitarianism

2009-02-05T19:11:00.000-08:00

Where I grew up in Colorado - God's Country - we were surrounded by wildlife. Deer, elk, bear, beaver, coyotes, birds of prey, everything you see on Planet Earth - boom dee ada.

I love(D) it.

In the winter, just after hunting season we'd have big snow and at times the deer, attracted into the vicinity of ranches by the lure of stored hay, would get trapped by the deep snow.

Touring flat-landers took pity on the trapped deer and DEMANDED something be done. Wiser game and fish officials (I know, it sounds like an oxymoron, but in Colorado, those people know the way of things) called off relief efforts.

Some "good samaritan" decided to lift some hay to the deer anyway with his Aspen-money friends.

It made Channel 9 news as a feel good, soft piece against those ignorant valley ranchers and their friends in the game and fish department.

Wait for it...

A couple of days those deer died.

Huh?

Full bellies and all, taking the dirt nap, those deer bought a one way ticket to the green pastures in the sky. Courtesy of that flat-lander and his all-knowing REMFS with deep pockets.

When the news showed up to the game and fish asking questions about the deer, their spokesman looked into the camera and said, "They died because of the handout they were given. They were so full on hay that when the snow depth allowed them to move, they couldn't. Since they couldn't move, they lacked the ability to get the necessary nutrients from bark and other necessary winter foods critical to their survival."

Imagine that.

Help me keep people from giving hay to everyone. Help one another embrace the struggle of deep snow. Wait for the melt, it will come. Don't listen to flat-landers and REMFS.

Stand firm and do what you know is right. Period. If you don't, deer can die of being fat on hay.

LIFE IS BRILLIANT!

Strolling...

2009-01-29T18:56:00.000-08:00

...down memory lane. I just lectured (and I will beat myself up for it for about a week because those who know E know that he, of all of us, needs no lectures) Eli about the threads of poverty.

He likes to gnaw on his long sleeves, not sure why, he just does. Its getting expensive-looking at replacing the expanded and chewed shirts. We just talked (I talked and he listened) in stern terms about the cost-benefits of replacing shirts vs. chewing on food. It didn't go very well.

Here's why - I remember being financially strapped, like my Mom buying skim milk, halving the gallon into another gallon jug and filling the remainder with water strapped. I remember pacing the blue-light in Kmart for Keds - white canvas and pleather high tops that my Mom would purchase in the half sizes by two's and three's so that when I wore out a pair I'd have another from underneath her bed.

My pals had Avias and Nike Legends. I even paid Skip Larson $5 for his worn out Legends, bought new shoelaces and used my Mom's white shoe polish to work some shine on them.

Anyway, I'd wear out those blue-lighters on purpose, in hopes that I could get something else. As if wearing out stuff made better stuff more accessible. Nobodies ever accused me of thinking things through. That's just how I rolled as a S.T.U.P.I.D 13-year old.

Eli's nothing like me in that regard, or in any regard for that matter - he's in his head enjoying things when I pounce and pull a "I had to walk to school up hill both ways" riggin' fit. He just looks at and nods his head and says "Okay Dad."

I'm such a punk.

Eli's a good person. That pic up there's of him and Sam Grimes. Eli earned both BSA badges associated with a 6 mile hike on the Mormon Battalion Trail near Gila Bend - he's six. He jogged most of it to keep up with the rest of us. He helped cook. He helped clean up. He slept outside. He participate in retiring an American Flag.

My Mom was/is amazing. Grandma Smith taught her how to do what needed to be done - and she did, and I love her for it. I can only imagine what she had to sacrifice to buy me my Dan Gable signature ASIC wrestling shoes.

Eli, chew away. It doesn't matter a lick in the long run. You've already got what matters.

Ms. Elle

2009-01-29T05:57:00.001-08:00

Elder Korben Sharp McBride

2009-01-24T17:43:00.001-08:00

Reports to the Provo, Utah Missionary Training Center April 15, 2009.

Called to serve in the Spokane Washington Mission!

Then sings my soul...

Single Dad and The Plan of Happiness

2009-01-21T21:59:00.000-08:00

Jamie's in Oregon. Elle's in Oregon.

There's plenty of feminist things to say about a man trying to take care of a home, lots of jokes about how a man never really appreciates all the things a woman does around the house until she's not there.

I don't know if I agree entirely with those statements. I do believe that one does increase their awareness or understanding when a constant in life becomes absent.

Let me also openly admit that Jamie does a cornucopia of tasks not only better than I, but also like Monet paints better than a centipede - if that makes any sense.

Here's a brief outline...

My day begins earlier than usual and has to be timed carefully. I hustle taking care of my morning, shower, shave and eat, all the while watching the clock so that I give Eli the most sleeping bang for the buck. Too much sleep and he's groggy. Not enough and he's a pill.

He needs about 5 minutes to come around, and don't think I haven't considered Decaff to kick start his motor.

Cereal, vitamins, protein and cartoons all carefully selected. Still watching the clock.

Making his lunch, carefully selecting all the right things. Right combination. Proper slicing of the fruit and sandwich. Cafeteria food is looking better and better.

Check the backpack, sign the homework sheets and permission slips. Check the clock. Hunt down $3 - sheesh where's the stash of cash in this place?

Shower time. Eli enjoys his hot showers. More time.

Lay out the clothes, again with the proper combination. Green basketball shorts. Red sleeveless football shirt. Black shoes. Eli's out of the shower. Wants a fauxhawk - no problem - I build in time for these things.

Load the backpack. Fix hair. Fill water bottle. Check the clock...time to load up. Forgot to shut the garage door.

We're in the truck and I'm dropping him off at school. Beesons in front of me, Millers behind me, Smiths and Perkins not too far behind them. Tomorrow I have to beat Tammie - must plan better, she's doing this x4!

After two weeks of this...I forgot to mention the eerily quiet evenings, homework, what's for supper - fruit loops again? After two weeks, I am hyper-aware of Jamie's absence.

Jamie, come home soon and bring my princess with you. It is not good for this man to be alone.

If the sun doesn't rise tomorrow, I won't notice - I will be missing Jamie too much...and wondering why there's no milk in the fridge!

PS - The Sharp's owe a deep debt of gratitude to the Ahmans, Perkins, Pearsons, Stowells, Hardings, Hobsons, Murphys, Yates, Bentzs, Ryans, Wellmans, Gerdons, Stoors, Chuns, Nielsons, Thackers, Angelos, DuBois, Brodies, UT Sharps, CO Sharps, Sartoris, Waites and whomever dropped off a tub of mac&cheese and a tub of chicken & dumplings.

Alfred Ray Epperson 1941 - 2009

2009-01-02T19:40:00.000-08:00

Jamie's Dad passed away last night. We were on our way home from visiting him in North Bend Oregon, pert'near to Sacramento and we got a call that he was gasping for breath. We'd spent the last 7 days staying as close as we could. So we flipped a U and make a iron-butt marathon back through the rain and snow to North Bend. My flap-jack hurt so bad when I dismounted at 1130 PST, I had to chew 3 horse pills to calm down.

Death was slow and challenging. We all seemed to puzzle over the best thing to do.

The clan argued a bit about how to best care for Ray. Who would change him and put salve on his bed sores. We teased each other about getting old, eating too much and who was the best with a Red Rider.

We reminisced about Ray's skills with driving pretty much anything - making him a folk hero with our tales, while he reminded us he was human as he would moan quietly as they pain got too much.

He refused his meds, water and food. And at the same time allowed us to bring him a fried egg, ice cream and Pepsi - his favorites. He offered to run the backhoe, and allowed Jamie to rub his feet - and she did - for hours.

Cancer didn't have Ray.

Even after loosing 70 pounds, he had grace lying flat on his back. Grimacing through the platitudes of "How are you?". I wondered if he ever wanted to scream "How in the *&!%@ do you think I am? I have cancer all over my body, I'm hooked to a catheter, I wear a diaper, I can't feel my legs and everything tastes like metal!"

He never said or hinted at any unkind things.

We laughed about a lot of things. You see, when I told Dad I was going to take his roast beef sandwich, he told me "Make a big circle." In other words, pack a lunch, bring your friends and put your weapon on "burst" because brain cancer hasn't slowed me down at all. He never touched it. Neither did I. Ray's a steely-eyed missile man. A country-fried bad ass.

To say Ray was like a father to me sounds cliche and it misses the mark - he is a father to me. I know I will see him again.

I see him every day in the face of my son Eli, and I hear him in my wife's teasing. Ray's still here. In the 33" Stihl laying cold on the garage floor. In his 92 Chevy truck parked in the driveway. In the 6 pair of muddy size 12.5 Dunhams lying all over the house. In his $12 Timex, worn leather wallet and over-sharpened Spyder-Co pocket knife. In the grease-stained green Yates Construction Carhardt hanging on the back of the laundry room door - just not in the worn out cancer ridden, broken husk that he left behind.

I'm not happy about it. I'm pissed. Dying sucks. Who am I going to go to NASCAR Races with? Who's going to take me haulin' in the bushes of back country Oregon? Who'll drive the jeep at the Dunes?

Torch gets passed again. Buckle up Jason. Heads up Shawn. Watch your top knot Jarret.

The last thing my wife said to her father was, "Thanks for being my Dad."

Me too.

Alfred Ray Epperson will be laid to rest January 7, 4 pm
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
3355 Virginia Avenue, North Bend Oregon 97459

Elder Kieffer Bryant Sharp McBride

2008-12-19T19:31:00.000-08:00

My son (he's on the left) is in Sao Paulo Brazil.

Elder Kieffer Bryant Sharp McBride
Box #31 District #49-A
Brazil Recife Mission
Rua Padre Antonio D' Angelo, 121
Casa Verde, Sao Paulo, SP
Brazil 02516-040

From a recent email...

"We learn more and more about the gospel ever[y]day. My understanding of things I've always had questions about has increased tenfold. Portuguese is coming a long rather nicely. I just need a stronger vocabulary."

Feel free to correspond. Mail is like spiritual food except better.

Kieffer is Brilliant!

Best Christmas Ever...

2008-12-16T20:23:00.000-08:00

It's 1973. UPDATE - 1974 - Thanks Wendy!

My Dad, suffering a recent knee injury, is laying on what can loosely be referred to as a couch in his underwear. He is cradling a homemade cane, made of two dowel sticks, one notched and secured to the other with a drywall screw. The couch is more like a love seat, in furniture vernacular, and it is a poly-cotton blend died maroon, worn slick on the arm rests by years of use by men with large, dirty and worn hands.

Our single wide is located off Highway 82, directly across from the main drag in Basalt, Colorado, nestled in what was once a river bed called the Pan and Fork Trailer Park. Catchy.

It's home to me. I enter that place via my Uncle Dennis' handiwork with a welder and angle iron worked into a stair case. Morse N' Knudsen Trucking has been good to us and my Dad's job turning wrenches on their hill trucks for the mine has paid well.

We just bought a Ford Gran Torino station wagon - Rust Brown - my Dad's proud that he doesn't have to borrow the red Dodge sedan from my Uncle anymore. The Torino is now parked in the front gravel drive, blanketed in a mix of snow and oak leaves.

We are ensconced in brown paneling and brown carpet butted up against gold and yellow linoleum, the smell of pine in the room, and the anticipation of making our way to Center Creek to see Grandpa and Grandma Sharp hangs in the air. Its mingled expertly with the sense that Santa had just been at my house, my senses are alert.

I'm in the living room, sporting a set of footie pajamas, second hand from my cousin and best friend Dave - guy has it together to this day. See me astride my Big Wheel? Notice my grin? What you probably don't see is my Evel Knievel Electric Toothbrush. It's in the bathroom, plugged in and rarin' to go. I've used it a couple of times already, contrary to my father's warnings about burning out the motor. I mean, what does Dad really know? Santa made it and brought it, so nothing can happen to it.

My sister Wendy is cramping my style, that is to say the style of a 5 year old, and begging for a ride down the single-wide halls of our home. I oblige. Who wouldn't? It's a Big Wheel, and she's not allowed to use my new toothbrush - she doesn't have any teeth! I move the seat back so as to allow more room. Adjustable seat!

A Big Wheel. Evel Knievel. It doesn't get any better.

Best Christmas I had as a child.

What's yours? Write it down and share it with those you love. They need to hear it!

Christmas is Brilliant!

The power of one.

2008-12-11T12:22:00.000-08:00

The MSM goons have already ditched what happened in Mumbai, favoring coverage of yet another corrupt politician in Illinois, or better yet finding the body of a child. I am wretched sick and tired of the MSM's portrayal of what did happen - most especially the newspaper headline stating that 11 men crippled a city of 12 million. Highlighting, quite gleefully, how this "well planned attack froze the financial capital of India". Rubbish. No mention of the rescue efforts, heroics of the police and military, the quick response of grief counselors from all corners of the planet.

So, I answer back! With a list, limited by my ignorance, of individuals who have changed the world. Instead of the crippling power of 11 - the mobilizing power of one.

1. Mohandas Ghandi.
2. Joseph Smith, Jr.
3. John Newton
4. Martin Luther
5. Lord Baden Powell
6. Carl Sagan
7. CS Lewis
8. Highlanders made them famous - Romans invented them - whomever is personally responsible for the pipes.
9. Marcus Aurelius
10. Gordon B. Hinckley
11. Ronald Reagan

Who's on your list? Write them down, share them. Pass on the power of one.

-JMS

Passing the baton...

2008-12-05T14:00:00.000-08:00

For many reasons, a la baskin robbins ice cream flavors, I've been fortunate in my life to rely on great men and women. Saying that I've made my way standing on the shoulders of giants (made famous by Hawkings) falls short.

Some of my giants are now physically stooped by aged, spirits bright - others, it feels, are throwing in the towel (see Rocky III).

I stood in the parking lot at the 77th Avenue Building with Darin sharing with him the luxury of looking to our elders when times get rough or confusing.

I sat in Will's living room, talking about the incalculable value of having someone to turn to in times of trouble and doubt.

As time moves on wings of lightning I begin to consider my own ability to accept the fact that as one generation passes, another must accept the responsibility of leading, being there, answering the call, doing what must be done.

There's that space in a 400m relay where the legs must pass the baton, carefully and deliberately. Too many steps, a fumbled transition, miscues might all contribute to a drop or a dq. Coach Manown and Coach Martin used to make us walk around in a 4-person column practicing our transition, practice after practice, to make sure we got it right - muscle memory right.

All of life's struggles prepare us for this I suppose - without us even knowing. I assure you, running at full speed, I don't feel prepared to take a hand-off. I am comforted by Tim's quiet assurance. Will's ethic and James' dreams add a rich perspective. I take my station beside my wife and defer to Shawn with love and admiration.

Will Eli arrive at the same place I am now, after all that I have tried to teach him, only to discover it as I did for the very first time? Probably. And I hope he is as blessed as I by the presence of his brothers and sisters, cousins and friends - looking forward with a perfect brightness of hope.

With deep respect and admiration for those who died on December 7, 1941, at the bombing of Pearl Harbor...

I remain,

JMS

Button, button, who's got the button?

2008-11-18T20:06:00.000-08:00

I'm at MegaConference and it's megalame - the kind of lame that reminds you of a junior high dance and the chaperons are trying to persuade the North (guys) and South (gals) to dance by dancing alone, in the center of the newly waxed gym floor. Not to their music, but to something by the Cars - and they kill it d.e.a.d.

So anyway, I see this cat saunter past with a cleverly placed lapel button, all 70's green and 80's orange. I fix my gaze on his person in a singularly heterosexual literary way in order to read said button. "Stop truth decay" it screams. Brilliant.

So while I am piling in bagels, cream cheese, warm OJ and some pseudo-eggs, I am pondering the concept of truth decay. Clever play on words, but I hope he didn't pay for that button. Truth decay.

Sticks with me all day. Truth decay. Am I doing my part? I think so.

Later on, a dear friend rings me up with great enthusiasm and a feather in her cap twinkle in her voice to tell me of the events that transpired at the HQ. And it strikes a cord of fear in me that begins some mild truth decay. No sealants have been applied so this could get ugly quick.

I stop the candy in the conversation and seek some mouthwash, to no avail, the decay continues and both of us end up running our cell batteries down, dropping a call and shedding a few sympathy tears.

One verbal/spiritual root canal later, friendship in tact, I think I stopped truth decay from spreading. But I must admit that that chap with the button has never tried to stop truth decay or he wouldn't be walking around telling everyone else what to do with a button.

Stopping truth decay is challenging, it can hurt short term, and I am never 100% certain of the outcome since my approach often resembles that of a sandpaper enema (not enigma).

But then again, what's the alternative?

A Promised Land

2008-11-05T09:26:00.000-08:00

I cast a vote yesterday, perhaps the most informed and important vote of my life so far. It didn't go the way I wanted, beginning with the primaries, and I wanted to pen my thoughts, mostly for my children.

What happened yesterday is nothing short of confusing to me. Never before has "never before" been said more than ever before - not always referencing the barriers that should be broken in a democracy - but history is not always very noteworthy. Experience is a harsh teacher.

As a soldier, I served under a Commander in Chief that I didn't like nor agree with. But I followed my orders and I, at times, knelt in prayer and asked for guidance in following those orders. Now, as a citizen, the President-elect is someone that I don't like nor do I agree with. I hope he kneels in prayer and seeks guidance in following his orders. Remember Mr. President-elect, even though we don't agree - you work for me.

So much good can be accomplished. So many stereotypes broken - shattered. So much healing can take place. The potential good that this newly elected President can do is limited only by his admitted vice - pride. Let there be no fall.

It is an honor to be a citizen of this, the greatest nation on God's Earth. I don't apologize for my conservative ideals. I work hard in serving in what is considered to be a socialist environment - I don't apologize for that either. My country makes a place for a guy like me to do what he does. I thank God for that every day.

Mr. President-elect, you made a lot of promises to a lot of people. My sons and daughters will inherit the fruits of your labors and I hope that they are ripe with opportunities. The students I have stewardship over are counting on you as well - they chant your name in the hallways. Live so that they will always look to you as they should, with love and respect. I pray for your safety, for clarity over agreement, for liberty and truth to prevail.

This is the greatest country on the planet. Everyone comes here for that reason. Do not doubt that God has a plan for our nation. Lift where you stand, bloom where you are planted, speak boldly about your guiding principles to those who need to hear them.

Hold fast to the values that guide our nation. If we choose to be engaged in this process, we can change minds and hearts, but we need to be active in so doing. Not just active - exhausted.

God, bless America.

Gamma knife

2008-10-31T06:31:00.000-07:00

There was a time in my life when I would have said - "I want one of those." I would have surely associated it with some super power in the Marvel Universe or an ant-villain weapon in the DC Universe. Gamma Knife might even be the name of super hero - cutting down crime with his concentrated lasers and hiding out in the Gamma Cave. Once a member of an elite fraternity, but kicked out because he was too smart, and now, on a mission to stop fraternity crime everywhere.

Gamma knife isn't a superhero. It is a weapon of sorts. I don't want one.

They do amazing things, like shoot radiation at tumors in the brain. My father-in-law, Ray, got a gamma knife yesterday. Sported the gamma halo, had pot roast and mashed potatoes, got his picture took. Of the 16 tumors in his dome, they gamma knifed 5. I'm more of a "let's get them all while I've got a full clip" kind of guy, but what do I know. That's probably why I am not getting paid 37K for a two hour operation.

At this point in my life, if I were to seek after super powers, I'd rather be more like Ray and be able to navigate the logging roads of Coos County hauling cranberry bog equipment while drinking a hot cup of java and making surgically precise work of a homemade cinnamon roll. That's the stuff of a super hero life.

Dad - Ray - I think about you a lot. Thank you for Jamie. Be strong. Be nice to Mom. Don't mow the banks without someone helping you, I don't want you to fall down. I love you very much.

What matters most...

2008-10-29T14:54:00.000-07:00

I'm 40. To me that's a big deal. I've lived longer than my Dad, by quite a bit. Anyone who's lost their father while a youth can appreciate what that means - kind of a mental Everest for me in some respects. I want to live another 80 years. I have a lot to do.

40. People ask me what it feels like. I wish I could say something profound and life changing, but the fact is, I wake up being me, feeling like me pretty much every day (wait, every single day) and nothing is really that different as far as feelings go.

I approached 40 for 39 years, and that approach has very slowly and deliberately changed the way I see and think about a lot of things - and maybe that's what people are lurching at when they ask me how it feels.

So what's changed?

I still love peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches - except to share one with my Dad, Will and his boys, James and Milo, Eli, Korben and Kieffer.

If I get the chance to watch a UFC fight with Elle, done and done. Nobody yells louder when someone is tapping out to a rear naked choke.

I would give anything to eat a rhubarb pie made by Grandma Sharp with Grandpa Sharp while he tells me about his work day.

If I watch a football game, let it be with Eli at my side and me explaining what a cover four defense looks like and why they audible.

I miss skiing, but when I go again, I want Rachael to teach me how to snowboard. When I hunt again, I want Eli to keep my stride just I did Dad's, and I hope that I am as good a marksman as my Aunt Mary Beth.

I'd like to tell you that I don't much care what people think, but I do, it just doesn't matter if they are thinking about me so much as they are thinking about doing whats right. If that involves me then all the better.

I have new friends, and old friends and some friends that are older than I am - and I love all of them very much.

If I could do it all over again, I would, so long as Jamie could be there with me. I would only play more football, eat more pie, read more books, laugh harder, and find more ways to draw closer to my Father in Heaven.

And on my 2nd 40th birthday, more guitars, more friends, more hot wings, more fire, more laughter, more singing and dancing...more cow bell.

These are days.

Things are never as bad as they seem

2008-10-10T13:02:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: H.O.P.E. AZ hosts a huge multi-dimensional shindig for our families today. They did hair and nails, gave shoulder massages, can't even list all the games! Over 120 volunteers and 350 families served. All donated! More information to come...

The DJI is down how many percent? Wars and rumors of wars. Reminds me of a line from a generational great movie, Breakfast Club, when Bender says "He'll get up, we'll all get up, it'll be anarchy!" Hagadaga!

The MSM goons spread doom and gloom like they are running a salt truck in the middle of a snow storm in Milwaukee - more is better - without regard for the rusting of minds and hearts all across the world.

I believe they are WRONG. I can prove it.

I am the principal of a school that serves children of homeless families. We don't benefit from the traditional tax base and bond initiatives that fund schools. We rely a great deal on donations from the community.

You'd think that because of the panic in the economy - donations would be down to a trickle and that volunteers would disappear.

Its the opposite. Hearts to Hands, Office Max, PLS, Joy Christian Academy, ASU College of Nursing, Our Kids Sake, and so many private individuals have stepped up and made HUGE contributions to the lives of children who in most cases have nothing. Our food and clothing rooms continue to fill up, even as we distribute 100's of items a week.

(When I say nothing - it would be hard to define what that means since most of them aren't fully aware of what they don't have.)

So, in the immortal words of Flavor Flav of PE "Don't Believe the Hype" of the lounge lizard socialist club (main stream media types, including their consumers).

I want you to know that it's pretty good out there. People are good. They are giving, even in the smallest of ways, of themselves, their time, their resources - and it is making a difference.

You won't hear about this on the news. Nothing to see here, move along. But everyone should know about our homeless children. Everyone should know that life is brilliant and that people are amazing!

Come and see for yourself.

-Jarret

What's in a name?

2008-09-30T18:44:00.000-07:00

On the left is my son Kieffer, on the right, DSG Gallagher an enlisted chap sporting the 11th ACR patch.

Kieffer bumped into Gallagher on a DECA trip when he qualified for nationals. Gallagher inquired after his patch and Kieffer explained that he got it from his Dad. The ensuing picture.

11th ACR used to guard the Fulda Gap - keeping an eye on the USSR from Poland during the Cold War. They did heroic things in Vietnam as an Armored Calvary Regiment. A gentleman approached me in the airport, with tears in his eyes told me he was a Vietnam Vet and had proudly served with the Black Horse. I was a part of a FIST Detachment with the 11th ACR - Forward Observer, Fire Support Team. When I see that patch, I immediately want to speak with that person, share with them, laugh with them.

We all identify, in different ways, with moments in our lives - the spaces between being busy - when we connect with complete strangers. We share simple and pure commonalities that capture for me the importance of names, woven into stories that remind us that we are all connected.

HOOAH - FISTrS

HOOAH - Black Horse Brigade

HOOAH - Ft. Irwin

I miss Colorado...

2008-09-23T20:20:00.000-07:00

Fall. Something about Fall grips me. Its my time. The leaves, the seasons.

Sitting on the edge of Grandma Smith's garden, eating turnips out of the ground. Climbing her trees and earning a healthy case of diarrhea from eating too many cherries. Getting lost in her lilac bushes and swinging on the rope down by the trailer.

Standing on the sidelines of a Basalt Longhorn football game, the smell of fresh cut grass, sweat, athletic tape, and pads mingled with the sounds of the 35 member high school band rockin' Rick Springfield as the cheer leaders make an attempt at exuberance.

The rivers roaring at you in spring, calming you in summer and calling to you in winter. Games of fox and geese at Chapman Dam. Snowmobile games like chicken and others that...oh what the heck...kill switch. Tubing on dark and abandoned ski hills - Buttermilk. Tubing the Roaring Fork.

Innocence. Listening to John Denver in the Aspen Middle School gymnasium or Claudine Longet reading to us in Mrs. Wall's class for community service. Or wondering why they escorted us home on buses and who was Ted Bundy.

Take me home.

Remember where you were?

2008-09-11T06:24:00.001-07:00

I was on my way in to work, a principal at Thomas J. Pappas when the first plane hit, and on morning duty when the second one hit.

We locked our school down and waited. Since we were downtown, police and law enforcement came to our campus. Our district officials had no clue what to do, and frankly neither did we.

So today, I remember. I find myself, 7 years later, going to work at the same place, with most of the same people.

Prayers.

This I believe...

2008-09-10T21:12:00.000-07:00

UPDATE - I believe that Pork and Beans by Weezer is the 2nd best song EVER. Which is number one? - I am saving that spot, open for the taking.

Coon dog hunt in the "livrary" (Elle's term for library, Renember Dad, its the liVrary?!) for something worthwhile. I needed a fix and I needed it badly. I hear my Mom tell me to get a book on tape, and on my way past the murder mysteries, I run into an NPR cluster of audio files - no Tim, not audiophiles. So I snatched it up and ran to the line, overflowing book bag and kids in tow.

NPR had a great series called "This I believe" where just regular folks and some irregular famous people wrote and recorded short and powerful essays about what they have come to know.

I am an NPR fan. Love PBS. Crave MYSTERY! Regularly bend the Sabbath staying up late watching that show, or some British classic like Bleak House - an AZSharp fav.

On the way back from mutual tonight, I am hearing Studs Terkel rattle off what he believes and then it switches to this doctor whose mother made him read two books a week and submit written reports. She would mark them up and give them back. Only later did they realize that the marks meant nothing as Mom was illiterate. Marks meant nothing.

Or did they. I believe they did. And I believe that I should go to the livrary more often, kids in tow.

Life is Brilliant!

JMS

Priceless...

2008-08-22T08:02:00.001-07:00

Every once in a while I come across a quote that makes me mute with contemplation. The following is one such grouping.

"Arrogance is America's No. 1 disease, its most plentiful natural
resource. No American industry is more arrogant than the media,
particularly the television wing of the media. Cursed with good looks,
the ability to enunciate most words and access to the best parties and
sociably acceptable drugs, TV people really believe they're smarter than
everyone else and essential to maintaining the myth of a true democracy.

Ten years ago you could say the exact same thing about print journalists except for the good looks and access to parties. But we've been humbled. Bloggers have proven that we're not that smart. In fact, we're really rather stupid and stale."

- Jason Whitlock, FOX SPORTS

This guy's self-degradation belies his insight. Brilliant Jason!

JMS

An Olympian...

2008-08-20T18:53:00.000-07:00

All you need to know about Eric B. is that he is a good man. But, what you should know is that he is a Dad, a husband, 'Ridge Varsity Tennis Coach, HS Physics teacher. Of noteworthy mention is that he is an Olympian - an Archer.

Check this out.

That's right. Eric is off to Beijing in September.

Interested in supporting him?

Tax deductible contributions may be made payable to "USA Archery on behalf of Eric Bennett" and sent to USA Archery, 1 Olympic Plaza, Colorado springs CO 80909 (This is a 501(C)(3) organization and a receipt will be provided); or

You may deposit donations direcly into the Bank of America account, "Eric C. Bennett Athlete Development Fund" account #4570 0650 6452. Or, you can mail checks made out to the account directly to Eric at 16023 W Hearn Rd, Surprise, AZ 85379.

Eric, go strong. So many people are cheering for you. Take GOLD brother!

This life is brilliant!

JMS

You just never know...

2008-08-18T07:26:00.000-07:00

UPDATE

Henry takes the gold!

Early in my coaching career, we shared a gym/practice mat with another school in our district. They came after we were done, and often times, I would hang out and assist in drills or conditioning. One wrestler brought his little brother with him, and I watched with interest.

Angel Cejudo mopped the mat with most of my guys, even my best the year we took 4th in State, there he was, little bro in tow.

We opened a freestyle club at Maryvale HS to keep these kids interested, and at that juncture, the Cejudo brothers were on fire, soaking up whatever they could, and taking what they did straight to the mat with Angel winning 150 matches and 4 consecutive AZ state championships, Henry doing the same two years behind him.

Fast forward a few years and one of my former wrestlers and I were sub-contractors on a housing job and he mentioned to me that Cejudos were headed to the Olympics. Not surprised, but altogether amazed that two young men from south-central Phoenix and less than desirable circumstances, can make something like this happen - it just goes to show you that you just never know.

Brazil, Recife

2008-08-16T17:13:00.000-07:00

UPDATE

In our faith, this is voluntary service and these young men sacrifice 24 months to serve God. Those interested in contributing to Kieffer's mission fund should send contributions to;

Bishop Leslie Travis
White House Ward
Madison Tennessee Stake

107 Twin Hills Dr
MADISON , TN 37115
(615) 859-1356 (Office)

It came!

Hat tip to all those I do and don't know in TN. Deep bow to all my AZ, CO and UT friends and family. Everyone has a part in this.

JMS

A day of firsts...

2008-08-11T19:35:00.000-07:00

Eli's first day of first grade. My first day of opening the first school for homeless children, the first in a charter district in Arizona. The first time I stopped and considered addressing a concern with a co-worker face to face. The first time I did it. The first time I let - that's right Joe P - let my kids beat me in wrestling! Hard fought, but a shot to a stomach full of Lenny's chocolate ice cream made all the difference.

Brilliant!

Of unsolicited advice...

2008-07-15T14:57:00.000-07:00

From my "little" sister it can be the best kind.

From those who mean well it can be a verbal hand grenade. Don't bother jumping on it.

If preceded by "what you need to do is..." feel free to push the eject button.

If inferentially domain specific, say, given by someone who heads to the local health club rides the elevator/escalator for a couple of floors and then heads to the stair master - this is a clear case of text book application vs application outside the text book.

If given by a medical professional, consider that in the 60's the medical profession lampooned mother's milk as useless, and in that same decade, tonsils were considered useless tissue and removed.

Now we know that tonsils removed increase throat cancer risk and that mother's milk/breast feeding has multiple necessary nutrients (those who were breast fed avoid certain risks associated with disease) and mothers who breast feed reduce the risk of breast cancer.

What you need to do is...and I am not a doctor...nor am I a medical professional of any kind...ask my little sister, she knows, she takes the stairs.

J.

"...to effect their Safety and Happiness."

2008-07-04T13:19:00.000-07:00

Of present and of past heroes;

The Declaration of Independence: A Transcription

IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.--Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

The 56 signatures on the Declaration appear in the positions indicated:

Column 1
Georgia:
Button Gwinnett
Lyman Hall
George Walton

Column 2
North Carolina:
William Hooper
Joseph Hewes
John Penn
South Carolina:
Edward Rutledge
Thomas Heyward, Jr.
Thomas Lynch, Jr.
Arthur Middleton

Column 3
Massachusetts:
John Hancock
Maryland:
Samuel Chase
William Paca
Thomas Stone
Charles Carroll of Carrollton
Virginia:
George Wythe
Richard Henry Lee
Thomas Jefferson
Benjamin Harrison
Thomas Nelson, Jr.
Francis Lightfoot Lee
Carter Braxton

Column 4
Pennsylvania:
Robert Morris
Benjamin Rush
Benjamin Franklin
John Morton
George Clymer
James Smith
George Taylor
James Wilson
George Ross
Delaware:
Caesar Rodney
George Read
Thomas McKean

Column 5
New York:
William Floyd
Philip Livingston
Francis Lewis
Lewis Morris
New Jersey:
Richard Stockton
John Witherspoon
Francis Hopkinson
John Hart
Abraham Clark

Column 6
New Hampshire:
Josiah Bartlett
William Whipple
Massachusetts:
Samuel Adams
John Adams
Robert Treat Paine
Elbridge Gerry
Rhode Island:
Stephen Hopkins
William Ellery
Connecticut:
Roger Sherman
Samuel Huntington
William Williams
Oliver Wolcott
New Hampshire:
Matthew Thornton

4 generations.

2008-07-01T20:12:00.000-07:00

It's getting closer.

You may have heard...

2008-07-01T19:10:00.000-07:00

We are getting a temple in NW Phoenix. Peoria/Glendale for those of us who find that our own little center of the Universe. I am speculating on an exact grid. I am not in the know. I know people who are in the know, and by my estimation, they aren't even in the know except that they will be shortly OR they know more than me. Knowing more than me...an easy feat. Digression.

Focus. Eli and I were having some conversations about temple design, how, who(m), what, where and when. After a lengthy Q&A, we decided to mach up our own, not as a sacrilege, but as a kinesthetic learning activity. We drew it up, gathered our materials, laid a cornerstone, measured and, well...you can see for yourself.

I fancy my son an architect. He will probably teach, but that's okay too.

So here's to renderings. To temple building in our recovery pajamas on Sunday afternoons. To 3 years hence...to architects. To my Heavenly Father

Life keeps me wondering.

JMS

Notes from a DaD

2008-06-14T08:05:00.000-07:00

When sisters play video games they do it for different reasons than brothers - and I have no idea what those reasons are. Oh and one more thing, when putting out fires it is important to look peaceful and not get excited about it at all.

When your big brother says he wants to "show" you how to play a certain video game - that usually means that you get to sit and watch. Please note Kieffer's focused gaze and Eli's "this blows" hand on the chin pose.

39 year old men can enjoy video games in spite of mid section goo that can, and often does, prohibit bending over. Korben is hiding his embarrassment.

My dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire...

2008-05-28T19:16:00.000-07:00

Three Eagle Scouts, A Queen, A Princess, a Warrior, a future BYU ID Alum...a family. They sang at their graduation. Seminary graduation came with Taco Bell. Coffee House, Let it Be and 7 Bridges - brings tears. Snoring and restless nights, jokes about the Spurs, 20 hours in a Chrysler over Virginia hills, two days in DC, the Metro, the Honor Guard, 1 five 5's, tons of marble, wrecked plumbing, comic books, brothers in arms, sisters in laughter, cool rain, hot feet, another Prince, Trolleys, DC hats, sound effects, too much texting, what else can I say?

If I died right then, it would have been a good death to die because for one week I lived. I love you.

Dad

Above the Rest...

2008-05-13T19:08:00.000-07:00

One of the most decorated groups of men in wartime history is still at it in Iraq. Members of theTiger Force, 1st Battalion, 327th Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division (Air Assault). What's more, the original members of the Tiger Soldiers, Vietnam Era fighters are hard at supporting these warriors.

I mention this for the impact it has had on me, singularly selfish on my part. Perhaps you'll get something from it. The current force does "...everything with the past in mind...". They honor those that went before them in training doctrine, execution, evaluation and in supporting those that come after them.

They are hand picked, specifically trained air assault steely-eyed missile men. Above the rest. For my experience in working with other screamin' eagles as an attached FO, these gents are tops and I tip mine to theirs. They are legendary. They keep me safe and they let me know it by being there without being there.

Be safe. Pick up your ruck and follow me.

Life is Brilliant!

J.

What would I give...

2008-05-01T20:36:00.000-07:00

To hear my son tell me that he has decided to serve a mission? To hear him tell me that he knows he should serve the Lord? To hear that Elder Robinson did write him and that he has had all these "random spiritual experiences" that have helped him see his own potential?

To hear my daughter laugh? To have Elle grab my dirt stained hand and brush off the remains with her precious fingers? To have the hot sun bake my face on a wind swept day? To hear Rachael tell me that she loves life and she is proud of me?

To know that it will all work out? To know that where I am today might not be where I am tomorrow? To have my sisters comment on my blog? To meet someone new? To run into an old friend and have him tell you that we are not old, we are just getting better?

To get a text from my friend? To know.

What would I give? Everything I already have all over again. I wouldn't change a thing.

I know you could, but the question is should...

2008-04-28T16:06:00.000-07:00

I am recently stumped...okay, I get stumped a lot, but most recently I am puzzled by the posits of self-help gurus on how we are able to do anything we put our minds to.

I know that I disagree on a number of fronts. For example, under the strict rules of gravity, age and basketball, I will never dunk a basketball on a regulation rim. Then on the other hand, I really want to agree that we have the potential to do most anything we put our energies to.

It was then that I remembered a wonderful conversation with my daughter Rachael. She was, in her teens, boasting about her abilities to out "burp/belch" any guy. Now, at the risk of outing her belching abilities to potential suitors, I have to agree that she could do quite well in length, quality and decibel level. We talked about the worth of such skills, the potential for chunks or taco breath to be an issue. We couldn't really come to an agreeable understanding about her skills until I asked this.

"I know that you can, but I want to know if you should."

Stroke of genius on my part. Hardly. Inspiration. Pure inspiration.

She answered in her wisdom that she probably shouldn't.

Maybe its a leap of logic and reason to ask this of all our potential exploits and triumphs. But knowing that we could do whatever we put our minds to I think is an overwhelming distraction. I am quite certain that it is a lie or at least half the truth.

But in the event I offend some of you, I only want to posit this question. Should we do all that we have the potential to do?

Any thoughts?

Life is Brilliant,

JARRET

Mortality...

2008-03-20T20:35:00.000-07:00

The twins graduate in a few weeks. Are you kidding me?!?

Almost 19 years ago these two strapping boys came into the world via the UVRMC baby mill - and on that day 5 sets of twins joined them. Makes one wonder where they are, what they are doing.

These two are still squarely focused on clutching that diploma, heading off to graduation celebrations, graciously and anxiously accepting gifts...

I asked one just now how fast it has gone by. Like I blinked, he says, and then in the same sentence tells me how he has plenty of time. The raw stench of invincibility oozing through the phone punctuates the conversation and drags me back to my invincible years.

I quickly re-focus and hear all about the upcoming graphic arts competition, mission plans, girls, work, money, and I hear a shiny object in the form of Brian Regan's MEMONSTER, chuckle to myself, squash my own MEMONSTER and just listen to my son's voice talk about how he is discovering mortality and how depressing it can be.

He is reminiscing! With his buddies! How cool is that? There are yarns to weave, fish stories, remember whens, and what abouts. I told him it's not depressing, it's a gift this life and death.

I want him to be happy about it. Not only the discovery, but also the leaving behind and the stooped gait that comes with it. The black socks and tennis shoes-pull up your pants-clip your ear hair-pop in a breath mint-tell another anecdotal story-get an eye roll out of an invincible MEMONSTER-bull dance-merry go round journey.

No regrets, no compromises.

Life is Brilliant!

JARRET

We merry few...

2008-02-15T15:43:00.000-08:00

Andrew innocently announces that his family is leaving/moving. I have to admit, I don't know if it whether it was that I've never felt this way or that if I had I wasn't paying attention - but man...I can't put words to my emotions.

Have you ever run across someone who is present to almost everything they do. They quietly do things because they know its the right thing to do. Not only that but they are almost always doing and thinking for others. Deliberately and patiently.

Some of you might be saying, "Why yes, I have. Why so surprised Jarret?" I would answer, I have only met, served with or run into very few. Still fewer are my friends. And only a handful are my brothers.

Andrew is one. Being with him 3 days a week has altered my perspective. What an example. A man of steel and velvet.

Thanks Andrew.

Life is brilliant!

Jarret

I wept...

2008-01-28T12:05:00.000-08:00

Each individual will have their own sacred and private take on the passing of President Gordon B. Hinckley. A good friend called. Jamie told me. I wept. I was exhausted.

I know there is life hereafter, the reunions are sweet and the perspective aweinspiring. There is, however, a disconnect - speaking entirely for myself - between here and there that I just can't quite collect.

If ever in my lifetime from a perspective that I created there was an individual who expressed potential entirely through their actions, it is Gordon B. Hinckley.

To boldly go...

2008-01-11T06:51:00.000-08:00

I thought about this most of the night. What compels a man to do something NO ONE has ever done before. Not to follow, except his own precepts or principles or dreams, but to be the ONLY ONE.

So few have done it.

Sir Edmund Hillary.

Ernest Shakelton.

Joseph Smith.

I honor Hillary today and will endeavor to do so every day in some manner or another.

I remain,

Jarret M. Sharp

PS - NASA plans to put a man on Mars NLT 2031. Let's make sure he's a Yank.

Going with the flow...

2008-01-03T13:10:00.000-08:00

My experiences at BYU were so choice, almost like story book in some ways. The things I learned and the experiences I was permitted remain very important to me.

We played football Tuesday morning, and I have to tell you that in my Heaven there is an endless supply of Grandma Sharp's rhubarb pies and a never-ending injury free, tackle football game where I am quarterback and my Dad is my lone lineman and my brothers run like angels in battle.

Anyhow...during one of the play-calling escapades by our opponents, I asked some of the kids what goals they had set for 2008. ALL of them said they hadn't set any...WHAT! Then one of them finished by telling me that his plan was to "...go with the flow, it has pretty much worked for me so far."

I got chills...like the enemy is lurking in black ink dark kind of chills.

Immediately I was transported back in time to my Freshman year at BYU and a talk/speech delivered by Mark Crockett. He was the inaugural president of BYUSA, previously ASBYU. I have to mention here that I beat him at Tanks and Doves.

At the beginning of Mark's remarks, he posited an overhead (for those who don't know, it is a copy on a piece of transparent plastic placed on a projector that submits the image on a screen or wall - very old school).

On this overhead, there is a cartoon of two bums, yes bums, sitting on a park bench. The one bum says to the other, "Everyone said to go with the flow and I did, and I wound up here."

A failure to plan is a plan to fail. Pursuit of perfection leads to excellence.

So...what by example are my resolutions? Here are a couple. I resolve to join my wife in reading the Book of Mormon in one month. I will weigh 185 pounds by March 1, 2007...and so on.

Full circle my BYU days are coming. Football continues to teach me a lot about others and more about my character. 2007 was one of the toughest years of my life...and for those who know me, well that is saying something. I HOPE for the best and I plan for the BEST.

A prosperous New Year to everyone.

I remain,

Jarret

What would he do?

2007-12-07T16:42:00.000-08:00

You'd think that at the age of 39, I would have this thing figured out by now. Lord knows I have seen and done my share, more so than I believe even I had ever planned on. Far less than most.

And yet, around each bend in the road is an experience or a challenge that I would not imagine, and another that I don't believe I could have planned for.

I used to just push forward, unashamedly, ignorantly and arrogantly. Climb over, dig under, spelunk, crash through, blow up or knock down. I have the internal and external scars to prove my story. So by now I am timidly peering around the corners, ducking back and taking stock of what I see, taking another look and ducking back again. I then rest my back against the metaphysical wall, lurking on my haunches and writing in my wrinkle-free journal all that I have just seen.

I read and re-read my perspective, trying to make sense of what I just tried to make sense...of. I get a lump in my throat, tears brim my bottom eyelid. I don't know what to do next.

Dad. Father. God. Gerald. Grandpa. Uncle Dennis. Dave. Will. Tim. Jamie. Jesus. Jarret.

What would he do?

What's your color...

2007-11-19T16:48:00.000-08:00

I owe Karla ( http://kurlysplace.blogspot.com/) for this one

you are mediumvioletred
#C71585

Your dominant hues are red and magenta. You love doing your own thing and going on your own adventures, but there are close friends you know you just can't leave behind. You can influence others on days when you're patient, but most times you just want to go out, have fun, and do your own thing.

Your saturation level is high - you get into life and have a strong personality. Everyone you meet will either love you or hate you - either way, your goal is to get them to change the world with you. You are very hard working and don't have much patience for people without your initiative.

Your outlook on life is brighter than most people's. You like the idea of influencing things for the better and find hope in situations where others might give up. You're not exactly a bouncy sunshine but things in your world generally look up.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

And I thought I was a purple?!

Give it a go!

Life is Brilliant!

-Jarret

Act like you've been there...

2007-11-12T11:49:00.000-08:00

Coach Close stood spiritually as a giant, physically unassumingly shorter. He commanded a troop of my high school buddies, myself included, all 4 years at Basalt High School.

We were a mediocre Single A high school in rural Colorado that played other seemingly mediocre teams. We rose to play-off levels often enough to have a taste of greatness. And throughout those four years I played with and against a few kids who went off to college and one who played pro.

Coach had lived, played and taught in Michigan, so I imagine he picked up his style and mannerisms along the way. He was famous for his accuracy with a football when someone was drinking too much water during a break. Close would rant, say "Jeez n' tarn" or "For cryin' out loud" a lot. I never heard him cuss, even when, years later I was coaching with him.

We were playing a game against a twice before victorious team in a playoff setting. Favored to win, at best and least in our minds, Coach had prepared us very well for this game. I remember meeting in the gym on a cold November evening and hearing him tell us that every time we scored, hit, sacked, tackled, won or lost he wanted us to act like we had been there before. "No dancing!", he said. Coach told us that we knew what it was all like, we had seen all the plays, we knew how to win and we knew what it felt like to loose. He told us that we had been here before and that in life we would be here again; suited up, warmed up, pumped up and ready for battle.

I walked out of that gym at least two feet off the ground, eyes wide and nostrils flaring, in total silence. I held hands with my two other captains and walked out at center of 50 yards and called "tails" winning the toss, deferring and getting to kick off. Standing next to my other striker, I watched that ball vault off the kicker's foot, listened to my heart pound as I blazed down the field.

As I planted my helmet in the ear hole of my opponent, I felt as though I had been there before. I knew that feeling. As I helped him up and patted his shoulder, I asked him "Don't I know you?"

Thanks Coach. For all the times I have suited up and had the chance to be there; I have tried my best to act like I'd been there before.

Life is brilliant,

Jarret

Social oxygen...

2007-11-12T11:43:00.000-08:00

I borrow the term from a book I will talk about later in reference to an endeavor of a seperate self. Now...some my retreat from reading almost immediatley, either they share a similar belief with me - that there is no self - or they might say seperate isn't social and that is in fact a very true and frightening thing.

Lend me your eyes a while longer. Consider this; in seperation, if one finds integrity, aren't they more apt to be social in an honest way?

More later.

Spirituality and religiousity...

2007-11-06T12:22:00.001-08:00

IF I tell you a secret, is it a secret any longer? Will you pay me millions?

If someone purports to know this secret, prints a book, hires speakers, records and cuts a billion CD's - essentially telling the whole wide universe - are they ruining it for everyone else who already knew the secret?

If they tell you the secret, are they adding anything to the meaning of life?

So a group of people get together, all claiming to know this secret and all its tenants better than anyone else. Is it even a little bit arrogant to even begin to think that they know and the rest of us don't? This secret, it turns out, revolves around getting anything you want, and in these secret materials they talk a lot about material things and getting more money. Is it even a little arrogant to think that money and material goods are what the rest of us want? Is it a little rude to tell a secret that could cheapen the concept of hard work in favor of strenthening the idea of sitting around thinking about something until it happens?

Affirmation without discipline is the beginning of___________. Social marxism. Entitlement. Laziness. Victimization. Foolishness. Fill in the blank.

If any group of people choose to criticize their current condition and then gather in a collective but exclusive understanding that they, and they alone, understand things better than the rest of us, I say beware. I ask why them? I ask them why not me? I ask why?

Religion, warts and all, bring us holy scripture, tell us stories about sacrifice, loss, miracle and redemption. Religion requires work and faith. Religion requires that a thought without an action is idleness. Religion abhores idleness.

Religion invites all willing to work, all willing to forgive, all who have not and all who have to be included in the discussion. It admits imperfection since it is created by men. It accepts change, even if over millenia.

Beware secrets. Embrace sacredness.

Life is brilliant,

Jarret

Dead Man's Party...

2007-10-29T14:25:00.000-07:00

My friend Ron is the second biggest Oingo Boingo fan I know, but he does not care for their cult favorite Dead Man's Party. As much as he dislikes this song, I dislike Hillary Clinton even more. Fact is, I've never met her. I've written her quite a bit, and I always get a form message telling me that since I don't live in her district, I can't communicate with her. That makes me like her even less. Sort of like how much I like bologna sandwiches.

Back to the lecture at hand. The opening salvo of Dean Man's Party features Danny Elfman saying, "Yea, yea, let him in." It's almost like Danny's a busy guy and besides, at this party, we take everyone, even Hillary - and even Danny confuses her for a man. But then again, maybe he is hopeful since at a glance he recognizes her Dead Man first.

And then there is a killer intro and the song begins "All dressed up with nowhere to go, walkin' with a dead man over my shoulder."

I've heard this line a thousand times. And at 1001, it occured to me, Danny is talking to/about Hillary Clinton. This is Hillary's new campaing song, officially. The Dead Man is Bill. The party is obviously the Democrats. The refrain about not running away is her begging the uber left to stay with her. Everybody's coming leave your body at the door - represents all the "dead" issues, the intellectually dead, the morally dead and the actual spiritually dead bodies piled high at the front door of the party. And as I mentioned before, everybody's coming and all are invited regardless of baggage, persuasion, morals, etc.

I bet if I told Ron that I have declared Dead Man's Party Hillary's official campaign song he would start to like it...a lot. Do you have any other campaign song ideas? Email me at jarretsharp@gmail.com. Love to hear from you.

LiFe is BriLLiAnt!

What do you listen to?

2007-10-04T10:50:00.000-07:00

My great friend Bill Denham is successful and passionate about everything he does. Fatherhood, sales, politics, bbq - all get his undivided passion. He finds himself doing a bit of coaching to those who perhaps don't share his equal passions - and I hear him say to people, when they are down, what are you reading?

For voracious readers, that's a great question. For those who don't or don't like to read, it could sound like an unintentional turn-off. But if you know Bill, you'd know that he listens to what he reads - audio books, for free, every day. Some listen to talk radio, music and to audio books.

Things are out of sync. Mornings are a rough start. Days crawl.

What do you read? What do you listen to? What are you putting in front of your eyes and to your ears?

Is it uplifting?

I read a ton, maybe even a book a week or so. I read books like I eat Grandma Sharp's rhubarb pie and chocolate donuts. I listen to talk radio, most particularly and almost exclusively Dennis Prager and Hugh Hewitt. I listen to those people because they are uplifting to me, fair in their delivery and as Dennis says, "[prefer] clarity over agreement." I listen, learn and grow. Sometimes I listen to the quiet solitude - for ideas, impressions and actions to take.

I also listen to specific songs. I've burned CD's (true enough I do not own an iPod) and put the songs in specific order according to the message and meaning that I personally derive from their melodies, the person who wrote and/or performs the songs or a memory I have attached to that song.

Here is a list of songs that I recommend;

Nessun Dorma - Luciano Pavorotti sings a version with the Vienna Choir that is earth moving. Look up the story of the song. It was recently made famous Paul Potts, the unsuspecting winner of the Britain's Got Talent contest - also a story worth knowing.

Dream Big - Ryan Shupe and the Rubberband. Enough said.

New Sensation - INXS with the late Michael Hutchins at lead. The song is upbeat. But the memory of my younger brother James dancing to that song at his first concert with me makes it one of my all time favorites.

Dream - Notice a theme here? Cranberries performed this song at Cricket Pavillion in 1994. What's so special other than the meaning? The 10 year old girl with Spina Biffida from Scotland who took the stage and sang this song as a part of her Make a Wish participation right before life-threatening surgery. She owned us, all 22,000 of us, for 4 minutes.

Come come Ye Saints - An LDS Hymn performed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I am LDS, and graduated from BYU and during the worst, coldest, hungriest of my BYU daze, that tune would peal across the campus courtesy of the Bell Tower. You won't find anything like it anywhere.

3 is The Magic Number - My generation knows this song from Schoolhouse Rock, but my version comes from De La Soul. They mix Johnny Cash and Curtis Blow in this little diddy. Brings a smile to my face and puts me into a break dancing mode every time.

Perfect Situation - Weezer, one of the all time best live bands I have seen. Jason had this as his ringer, never got tired of hearing his phone ring. The title and the words lie in conflict, but I end up wanting for things to work out so bad for this guy, looking for the...perfect situation. I for one listen and know that it does work out - even for guys like me. Love you Jamie.

Cool Like That - Digable Planets put the most poetic lines to jazz/hip-hop fusion in a laid back, beverage sipping, chess playing, wanna be intellectual environment. Who can resist the line "We be to rap what key be to lock."?

Song #2 - Blur. Turn it up. Ride, play, scream, pedal, swing with everything you have ever or will ever have.

There's tons more. 552 to be exact. In my house and at work, we love good music and I am always looking for more. One and one rule only - it has to uplift my soul and take me to good times and better places.

I would love to hear your favorites.

Life is Brilliant!

-Jarret

PS - Hat tip to Abby and Debi for their inspiration.

Cold Calling....

2007-09-25T13:15:00.000-07:00

Cold calling has probably deterred more people from pursuing a sales career than any other activity. After all, what could possibly be less fun than calling strangers, disrupting the flow of their busy day, and trying to convince them that they need to make time to speak with you? When you receive a sales cold call, how does it make you feel? Do you enjoy the experience? I personally hate it and I hate getting them as much as giving them.

And I mean going to the dentist, eating liver and onions, smell of vineager hate it.

There is a reason why cold calling is uncomfortable. When we make cold calls, we are asking people for something (their time) before we have given them anything of value.

It goes something like this. "Hello perfect stranger, I am a squid and expect you to give me all of your business so that I can get rich and you don't even know what I have to offer you yet, also, I am banking on the fact that you weren't raised in a kennel so that you won't hang up on me, listen to me long enough that I might be able to manipulate an appointment out of this last ditch effort in my dwindling sales career end of the month I don't have any money left attempt to get someone to buy my product. Is that okay with you?"

Does that sound like a good beginning for any mutually beneficial business relationship?

Salespeople receive a greater return on time invested when they reallocate cold calling time to other prospecting activities. However, if you are REQUIRED to make cold calls, do yourself a favor and QUIT. You are wasting your life and your company's resources.

For most salespeople, a comprehensive Pipeline Plan will produce the best return on prospecting time invested. What is a Pipeline Plan? It is a management tool that lists the various prospecting activities a salesperson plans to engage and the amount of time they intend to invest in each activity, each day, week, month.

The most effective prospecting plans don't focus on a single type of activity; rather, they include a mix of activities, such as:

* Networking - professional associations, breakfast groups, chamber of commerce, etc.
* Referrals - earn them.
* Strategic Alliances - are there other vendor resources that your clients can benefit from?
* Speaking - great opportunity to hone your skill and inform the public.

Best of all, advanced decision making in this format will afford you DATA. Data driven decision making will allow you to see what works and what doesn't and adjust accordingly. Instead of making a complete fool of yourself or quitting...email me for more information on the Pipeline Plan.

Life is Brilliant!

-Jarret

The Best in the World...

2007-09-19T12:12:00.000-07:00

The best? In the world?

Exactly. Ask my son who the best dad in the world is. He will tell you "My Dad". Period. In his world, I am the best. I can hear the cynics and the insecure now, "Yea but he's a kid" or "You are his only Dad". Right on both points.

Let's take that potential point of contention a few steps further. Kids don't lie about stuff like that. I have had to earn that role with him just like chocolate ice cream has earned the best flavor of ice cream in the world title from him bowl by bowl over the last 3 years. I am his only Dad, so what choice do I have, to be the most mediocre Dad? To be the worst Dad? Not an option.

What world's do you operate in? What micro-markets are out there that you circumnavigate, travel, climb through and abuse on a daily basis? Are you the best in those worlds? Don't tell me. Write it down.

Here's the task. Write down your worlds; home, work, recreation, church, kids, chef, handy-man, husband, friend, son, daughter, cousin. Make two categories, best and not best. Place a check mark in the category you have so diligently earned.

If you aren't the best, then I believe you have two choices.

1. Be the best.
2. Get out of that category.

If you want a plan for being the best, shoot me an email, I have some ideas on that as well.

Life is Brilliant!

-Jarret

Do Good Work...

2007-09-12T14:05:00.000-07:00

Damage control. Press release. Public relations campaign. Spin doctor. No such thing as bad press.

What sort of emotions do those words evoke? For some, the quick reaction is stark raving lunacy. For others - those words don't apply.

I got an enthusiastic call from dear friend of mine who has worked diligently in education leadership at a local school (I can't tell you who or where until October 15th) that against all odds stays open. Her population is defined by McKinney Vento Act in Congress, and the school is lambasted in the press on a constant basis as being ineffective and segregationist.

My friend is a hedgehog (see Jim Collins' Good to Great). She has surrounded herself with good, no great, people who do good work. They are transparent about what they do and why they do it. They show up, mostly on time, and engage in their vocation. Inspite of, and perhaps because of all of the Federal education mandates, the school has been under a magnifying glass for poor performance.

But they continued to be transparent about what they do at that school and they are diligently about the kids and their education.

Then, to top things off, senior administrative officials were indicted for fraud, misappropriation of funds and illegal hiring practices.

And the hedgehogs continued to do good work.

Today, my friend got word that her school has proven the naysayers dead wrong. They've met their standards, improved their scores, performed at levels that the press and public said couldn't be achieved.

They kept at it. No need for damage control, PR machines and spin doctoring. Hat tip to you and your team Dina. And to all those who said it can't be done...check the scoreboard!

Life is Brilliant!

What it takes...

2007-09-10T10:53:00.000-07:00

If ever you're in doubt. If ever your existence is questioned. I am right there with you, and here is what I say...

I am a pathfinder. I am an innovater. I refuse to speak the word "can't". Thousands of times I have been told no, you are too small, you can't possibly do that, it's a bad idea or it can't be done.

Drill Sergeant Pint used his stone jaw and 2 pack a day vocal cords to tell me he would personally "...run you outta here old man...". Mr. Bob Colette pointedly let my sternum and my ear drums know that he would make sure I never amounted to anything. And it could be argued that the circumstances I found myself in over my life would lend themselves to anything but triumph over adversity.

I remain.

Amongst the throngs of prognosticators who doubted me, there were those you have never doubted. My father, my patriarch, my matriarch, my Father. When I have stumbled, fallen and looked up through a veil of tears, they were there to encourage me, giving me a standing ovation for coming in last...no...for finishing the race.

I remain.

I can. I am a pathfinder. Don't waste your time telling me no or that it can't be done. I know that it can be dreamed, designed, tried, failed, tried again and done.

Life IS brilliant!

-Jarret

Tranquilized...

2007-09-10T10:11:00.000-07:00

Did you catch Mr. Stephanopolous comparing General Patraeus to General Westmorland? Did you catch the new Carl's Jr. commercial portraying students glamming about their teacher's physique? Did you notice the person in the car next to you with the glazed look in their eyes and the frown on their face?

If you're like me, you did. If you're not like me, you didn't. But that goes without saying.

I believe that as a general public, we are tranquilized by so many things. Inundated by carefully crafted campaigns of disinformation, meticulously planned and articulated through carefully selected color schemes and well timed rifts of verbal and musical innoculants.

If you have quick thumbs, perhaps you can skip the drama with the clicker and you can change the station or look away. Keep doing that and we end up like communists, shut ins, afraid of and distrusting everyone/thing around us. Booooo!

What are your tranquilizers? Fear? What are we afraid of? Neighbor's are playing horribly loud and immoral music. Do you go over? Ask them to stop? Nicely? Rudely? Well, I don't want to cause and problems, I don't want to be disliked, or what if they cause me harm? And the tranquilization goes on until you just shut it out, ignore it, resent your neighbor and yourself for not taking action.

The alternative is to write that letter, make that call, go on over with a plate of cookies and a different CD, wave to the guy next to you in the car with the frown on his face. Take action! Do something that will make an impact for good. Choose to intensify your resolve to live fully and purposefully and to take a bunch of people with you.

The lull of mediocrity, the drone of mediocre vanilla is a dangerous trap. The alternatives are;

1. Excellence.
2. Awareness.
3. Choiceful ingestion of entertainment.
4. Meditation.
5. Thinking for yourself.
6. Originality.
7. Creativity.
8. Greatness.

Life is brilliant!

-Jarret