Learning to Swim
Reclaiming a (Mormon) Childhood
I took this photo from the car window when I was driving to my mother's funeral. It's taken somewhere west of Nephi, Utah. The morning was pristine white, due to the previous night's blizzard. The day was frigid, strange and remarkable.
I often hear: "I'd like to hear more about that sometime" in reference to my background. What they mean is: "What was it like to grow up Mormon, in Utah, and what was it like to leave?"
For a long time I tried to out distance the past, maybe pretend like it didn't exist, or that it would eventually fade. It didn't fade, though. It came back stronger than ever, and in the most unexpected places. Now, I am finally ready to tell some stories. These are the ideas so far, and I will add to the text over time.
The girl with the most cake
On experiencing love in unexpected places. How old ladies can save you. And why I still love cake.
The Danes are back
My mother told me that when I was born, she took one look at my face and said: “The Danes are back.”
I don't know what she meant, exactly. But I know what it means to me.
Learning to swim
How do you reclaim something that you lost a long time ago? Or, rather, something that was taken away from you, perhaps by accident? You can learn to swim. Read more here.
I am here
Some stay, some go. The ones who go might be forgotten or replaced, and the ones who stay might be written out of the new history, especially if their circumstances don't suit the narrative. This is the story of a mother whose daughter went to America.
The coffee of Sanpete County
What if you had to choose between coffee and eternal salvation? What if coffee was the magical elixir that bound your present to your past, turned the mere water into thicker blood? What would you choose then? And what happens to those who try to choose both?
Ghosts
I don't know yet what this one will be about, but I do like this picture. I especially like that if you look really close, you will see my dog pooping in the lower right hand corner.