Minding Manners

I picked up some lunch today at McDonald's, just like the cool kids do. Say what you will about their menu, but you can get some decent food—even salads—there for not a whole lot of money (done in moderation, of course, as the film Super Size Me reminded us all).

McRib season is right around the corner!

Anyhoo, upon placing my order and telling the nice lady "thank you" for ringing me up, she stopped what she was doing and thanked me for thanking her.

"That's the first time a customer has said 'thank you' to me all afternoon," she beamed. She went on to say that many others were too busy talking or texting on their cell phones while ordering to give her their full attention or to even make eye contact, let alone to simply say "thanks."

Saying "please" and "thank you," and saying them often, I have found, go hand in hand. If my parents have taught me anything that has helped me to make friends and to get along with others, it has been instilling in me the value of using these two phrases frequently.

One of my favorite all-time writers is Dave Barry. He's written a lot of laugh-out loud funny things over the years, but one of my favorite statements of his is also one of his most profound:

"A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person."

I have found this to be true both when I've been the customer and when I've been the person behind the counter or desk or on the phone trying to help someone.

Good manners, it seems, are still in style. Even at Mickey D's.

Life's a Country Song

"Everything is great
Everything is grand
I got the whole wide world in the palm of my hand
Everything is perfect
It's falling into place
I can't seem to wipe this smile off my face
Life's a happy song, when there's someone by my side to sing along"

 -From "Life's a Happy Song," featured in The Muppets

As my friend the Modern-day Muse has written about on her blog, life can happen "all at once." There are periods of time during which "nothing much" seems to be the norm, and a string of days can feel like the movie Groundhog Day, and there are also other timeframes during which all sorts of things can turn your world upside-down in a hurry, for good or for ill.

Lately, it's been the latter for this Angry White Loner.

I broke up with the girl I've been dating. One of my best friends, whom I've known for over 30 years, basically told me to "drop dead" and to leave him alone, to not to invite him to do anything social with him anymore (no worries; I don't think he'll read this). And my car, the Aluminum Falcon, died a slow, painful, ultimate death, as I mentioned before.

 

All of these events went down within a few short days of each other.

It's been pretty much the opposite of the aforementioned Muppets song. It's been somewhat more of a country song instead: losing your girl, your friend, your truck (car), etc.

That's not to say, however, that the glass is half empty. Because it's certainly not. If you look around and count your blessings, you can see how truly blessed you are, in so many ways.

Fact: Life hands you disappointments. They can be tough blows to bear. And sometimes, they happen all at once. We all have them.

The question is: How will you respond when they occur? Will you become embittered and angry and cynical and blame others for your problems and let others' actions/inaction determine your happiness and retreat into self-loathing? Or will you consider it a lesson learned, forgive, take responsibility for your own happiness, and move on?

Will you raise the white flag in defeat, or will you bounce back and try again?

Once again, I'm going to go with the latter.

Success

Week #10 on the Island of Misfit Toys: The wife of one of the counselors in our bishopric taught today's combined, fifth-Sunday lesson. Because, as we've all been hearing repeatedly for the past week, women have no real authority to teach and don't have a voice, nor can they really do anything at all significant in the Church.

No, seriously, I'm not going to get into that topic today.

This was an inspired lesson about "success" and the choices/behaviors/habits that will lead us to real, lasting success.

She began her lesson by passing out pieces of blank paper and asking us to write down specific actions or goals that would lead us to success. I began rather tongue-in-cheekily, jotting down a list that included:

- Getting 100 likes on a Facebook status

- The Jazz making a smart draft pick at #5

- USA winning the men's World Cup, or at very least not getting terribly, embarrassingly beaten by Belgium Tuesday

- Burning down the South and then doing baptisms for the dead

- Eating bacon

- Climbing atop the Rameumptom to thump your chest, and then shouting out to the world exactly why you and your kin and your entourage are better than everyone else. Use good grammar, and give specific examples.

- Having muscles and a jeep. Or a Mini Cooper. I won't judge.

- A six-figure salary. Or more!

- Owning your own mansion, fully staffed with a butler, maid, masseuse, personal trainer, jester, llamas, and other servants/pets (what's the difference, really?) you can apply the strap to mercilessly whenever you feel like it.

 - Beating everyone else at Mario Kart

By the world's standards, that's a pretty good list. Well, the world's standards, as usual, are wrong.

I also wrote a list of "real" reasons, which included:

- Keeping the commandments

- Being Christlike

 - Building up, rather than tearing down, others. True success is a win-win proposition whereas, according to the world, you must lose and I must win in order to be successful.

- Peace of conscience/mind

- Perspective

- Serving others

- Family

- Saying "please" and "thank you." A lot. Because some of the most miserable people I know are also some of the most ungrateful.

- Friends/being a friend, without regard to another's creed, religion, beliefs, sexual orientation, etc.

- Finding joy in the journey

- Magnifying my talents/callings

- Tender mercies of the Lord

I like the second list better. Also, I put "eating bacon" over on the second list.

Benefit of the Doubt

There's something about driving in the rain that makes people's IQs drop by 50 points, I remember thinking this past Thursday afternoon. I was frustrated because I was in a hurry to get somewhere, and what should have been the quickest route had become the most time-consuming one. A brief cloudburst of much-needed summertime rain, and everyone on the road I was driving on slowed to about 20 miles per hour in a 50 MPH zone.

To quote famous stand-up comedian George Carlin (aka Rufus in the Bill & Ted's movies):

"Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?"

I'm sure we're all tempted to feel this way at times. We have our eyes wide open when looking at others' perceived faults and have our eyes half-closed regarding our own.

No more than two minutes later, I turned a corner—and, in the process, I inadvertently cut off someone else, who likely had to press his brakes hard in order to not collide with me. Vertently or inadvertently, I had messed up.

This person, in fact, then changed lanes and pulled up parallel to me at the next stoplight. I turned over to look at him and saw that he was now making eye contact with me, and I mouthed the words, "I'm sorry." He then proceeded to roll down his window to say something back to me.

Dreading or fearing what lewd gesture or comment this person had in store, I was both surprised and relieve to hear him say, with a smile, "It's okay, dude!" He even gave me a thumbs-up sign and drove off as the light turned green.

Whoever you are, random, kind stranger, thank you for reminding me that we all make mistakes, and that forgiveness is always a good option. You didn't let me cutting you off ruin your day.

The next time someone cuts in front of me, fails to signal a turn, or commits any one of a number of "oopsies" in traffic, I would hope to give that person, as this stranger gave me, the benefit of the doubt—that said person is somewhat like me, a reasonably good and safe driver who happens to have just made an innocent mistake rather than some escaped mental patient on the loose, running over curbs and cats and small trees and driving the wrong way down one-way streets and committing other serious and/or scary traffic violations.

For that, we have celebrities.

Life Is a Highway

Nobody likes to be stuck in a traffic jam—especially one that keeps you rubbernecking for miles (and sometimes even hours) on end. If there is anyone out there who actually does like it and isn't the bodybuilder flexing his muscles while directing traffic in that one GEICO commercial, I have yet to meet him. Or her.

By contrast, I'm sure we've all experienced times when we're cruising down the freeway and everything around and in front of us is smooth sailing traffic wise, yet due to construction or a collision or whatever reason(s), we can see many, many cars backed up in a traffic jam going the opposite direction. In such moments, I've had the thought occur (or I've said out loud if I have a passenger with me), "I'm glad I'm not going that way."

It's interesting how life itself can often be the same way, isn't it? When we're right in the middle of whatever jam, traffic or otherwise, is giving us grief and testing our patience, it can sure seem pretty difficult to deal with, and it also certainly makes us appreciate those moments when we can set things to cruise control and travel freely the other way. Likewise, we can also have those "glad I'm not going that way" thoughts occur when we learn about another's struggles. Ironically, that same person might even feel the same way about us and something difficult we're enduring at the same time.

What's my point? I'm not sure that I have one. (Do I ever?)

One thing I do know, however, is that today, on this Easter holiday, I'm grateful for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He trod the winepress alone and, because of Gethsemane and Golgotha, he understands the difficult roads we've traveled/are traveling/will travel, and He has bourn our burdens. Though the cup to drink was bitter, he has "gone that way."

Throughout the weekend, and especially today, I've had the chance to read many beautiful and inspiring "Because of Him" posts on Facebook and Twitter that have reminded me of the myriad reasons just why He matters so much to me and why the title Savior is so important to us all.

Cadbury eggs are nice, too.

Happy Easter, my friends.

Orange Tap Water and Gratitude

The XXII Winter Olympic Games in Sochi, Russia, are now over. And the morning-after blues came today, as they always do following the close of another Olympics. For the first night in more than two weeks, I didn't have any curling, snowboarding, hockey, bobsledding, or skiing to watch nor any medal counts to check up on in the news.

Beyond the actual sporting events, a lot of fuss was made about these Games because of the reportedly deplorable conditions many American and other Western athletes and media encountered in their Russian dwellings while in Sochi. Supposedly, toilets were sometimes constructed side by side, the tap water resembled peach iced tea, closets were built on ceilings, and dogs were super-glued to doors (maybe), along with many other horror stories.

One school of thought is that this was Russia's way of saying "nuts to you" to the rest of the world. Another belief is that a record $50 billion investment in the Games was completely mismanaged and then, when they realized they were running out of cash, these makeshift accommodations were the unfortunate result.

Whatever the reasons behind it all may be, there's one thing I know for sure: We have things pretty darn good here in the United States.

I've known that for a fact since the first time I traveled to a foreign country, and the idea was even more apparent to me as a missionary in Peru, where living conditions are downright awful in many places—I daresay even Third World. It wasn't uncommon to visit people in shantytowns, in homes literally standing on cinderblocks and loose bricks, with tin roofs and dirt floors. I twice contracted a bad case of fleas on my lower calves and ankles because of the dust everywhere that became stuck in my socks. In some areas, we carried flashlights with us, because there was no electrical power, and in other places, there was no running water. There were no litter laws like there are in our country—at least none that were enforced—and, as a result, we often walked past mounds of garbage. I found myself watching in bewilderment as people would casually throw wrappers or other pieces of trash on the ground, out of their car windows and everywhere else.

When I arrived at my and my companion's apartment for the first time, I was in disbelief at how dumpy and pathetic it was. Something I didn't realize for a long time is that my Peruvian companion absolutely loved the place and loved being a missionary, because, along with the obvious blessings of serving, he'd never had it so good with his living arrangements, either. I soon learned that, to the people I was serving, this was their way of life, and they weren't about to complain about it.

I can't do justice to it all with just a couple of paragraphs of description. But I think you get the idea.

I felt even more gratitude for the land I live in when, just a couple of days ago, I read a Facebook post by a missionary I served with who is now a stake president in Venezuela. (Yep, I'm either old enough to have served with someone who is now a stake president, or Venezuela is desperate for good leaders—or both.)

Venezuela, as you may have heard, is not a great place to live in right now. There is government oppression and rioting and protesting and people being killed. From what I know, it's not a pretty sight. My friend's post, as stake president, was a series instructions to members of his stake to help keep them safe and free from harm. He counseled them to suspend all extracurricular church activities but sacrament meetings until things quell down; to use phone calls and social media to keep in touch with each other and make sure all are accounted for; reminded them of the importance of having a supply of food, water, and emergency supplies; and moreover to be smart and stay away from danger, obeying suggested curfew times. Most importantly, he counseled them to pray. I told my friend that I would pray for the people of his stake, too.

It made me very grateful for the land in which I live, not to mention for the organization of the Church, to boot. I'm amazed at how, time and again, it is very much an institution interested in the well-being of the individual as well as the whole.

It's a big wide world, and very few people out there have things as good as we do. I may forget that fact occasionally, such as on April 15 and whenever the Kardashians are on TV. But it is a fact nonetheless.

The Turkey Trot

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but (honk! honk!) I participated in my first 5K race today.

It was also the Angry White Parents' and the Angry White Sister's first 5K. We did it together, and it turned out to be more fun and more worthwhile than I had imagined it would be. Kudos to my sister for convincing me to do it, 'cause I can be a tough nut to crack sometimes.

Our 3.1-mile race, the Family 5K (there was also a 1K race for kids and a 10K race for masochists/actual athletes), was really a race only in name, as together we walked the entire length. It was never about competition, just finishing. Soon after crossing the starting line, AWS and I realized that we were prepared to walk much faster than the parental units, so instead we slowed down to walk alongside them.

In the end, the Family 5K was more about the "family" part than about the "5K." After 66 minutes on the road, which included the Angry White Loner getting in "Biggest Loser" trainer mode on his mom and encouraging her to press forward during what was for her a grueling final mile, the four of us crossed the finish line together. For their age bracket, the parents did a great job.

Something else I really appreciated about this race was the sense of community involved in the whole process. Not only did we get to walk through the streets of our beloved hometown Bountiful, but all other race participants were nothing but polite and friendly to us, as many of them ended up passing us. In addition, complete strangers standing at mile markers or handing out water or just standing on street corners to watch cheered us on and offered encouragement along the way.

It was really a great way to spend a Thanksgiving morning, and I look forward to taking part again the future. The turkey, yams, pumpkin pie, etc. that followed were not too shabby, either.

Daily Gratitude: Two-ply Toilet Paper

'Tis the season for being grateful and for the giving of thanks. In fact, I am pretty sure there is a holiday right around the corner, one for which we are supposed to be grateful and to give thanks for all the things for which we are grateful and thankful. If memory serves right.

It's not uncommon to scroll through my news feed on Facebook these days and to read what others call their daily gratitude posts—the simple and the most important things in life for which they are appreciative.

As for the Angry White Loner, when it comes to gratitude, he thinks of two-ply toilet paper. Yes, really.

That's a pretty lame thing to be thankful for, some of you may think. And you would be right, assuming all of the world out there had things as good as we do here in the United States of America.

In case you haven't been to the Third World, I will let you in on a little secret: They don't have things as good as we do. Not even close.

Sure, France has its Eiffel Tower—in fact, two of the AWL's brothers and their spouses were there just a few days ago (not that I am bitter!)—Australia has its kangaroos and dingoes, and Japan has karaoke bars on pretty much every block. Beautiful things, all of them. But we truly live in a unique and a blessed land. There is no other place like it on Earth.

Why? Because of two-ply toilet paper.

Years ago, when I opened my mission call and read that I had been called to serve in the Peru Lima Central Mission, I knew exactly three things about Peru: The ruins of Machu Picchu were there, and it also had South America's highest concentration of Native Americans (Lamanites) and llamas. If you had asked me back then, I would have ventured a guess that they all rode llamas everywhere and had llamas for pets instead of dogs and cats and they all ate frequently at llama burger joints instead of McDonald's or Wendy's.

Granted, many of those preconceived notions turned out to be true. Llama tastes like chicken. And I did, in fact, make it to Machu Picchu—twice.

Nevertheless, the luster and the wonder soon vanished when I had my first glimpse of one of Lima's many shantytowns—Third World-like dumps where squatters live in homes literally made out of tin roofs and adobe bricks and plastic sheets and not much else, with dirt floors and no electricity in many places and unpaved roads with so much dust to kick up that I contracted conjunctivitis my first week there, along with several other bugs, and my ankles and feet became infested with fleas not once but twice. There are also frequent earthquakes and a destructive weather phenomenon, coined by Peruvian fisherman, called "El Niño."

Don't even get me started on Atahualpa's Revenge. You either know about it, or you don't.

This is where the issue of toilet paper comes in. Peruvians use toilet paper for every possible, conceivable reason. It's as valuable a commodity as towels are in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series of books. Not only do they use it for its already well-known properties, but they also use it as napkins and for taking notes and about 1,000 other things. One of the first things I learned in my first few days in the country is that you carry several sheets of toilet paper in your pockets at all times, because you never know when you will need some. If you run out, you restock. This is, in addition, because many toilets in Peru (1) don't have actual toilet seats to sit on and (2) are not stocked with any toilet paper at all.

The problem with Peruvian toilet paper? In two years, I never saw a single sheet of two-ply paper. One-hundred percent of it is single ply. I missed two-ply toilet paper. A lot. I also missed peanut butter, root beer, Dr Pepper, and hot showers.

And so, this Thanksgiving, that's what I'm feeling grateful for. Among many other things.

Correcting God's "Mistakes"

I have been a fan of "The Simpsons" since it first went on the air in December 1989. It's a show that has aired during all of part of four decades, folks. And though the program is not as good as it once was, it can still teach some important life lessons through its unique blend of satire and humor.

Recently, I caught a rerun of an episode from a few years back that I hadn't seen before. In it, Homer visits a plastic surgery clinic that contains the subtitle "Correcting God's Mistakes" on its marquee out front.

That's certainly how the Angry White Loner views plastic surgery—as an attempt to fix God's "mistakes." That's also how he views such things as dying his hair until he no longer remembers what color it should be, getting tattoos, wearing toupees, comb-overs, excessive amounts of makeup, tanning, piercings, etc. Please don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that you are evil or wrong if you have pierced ears or dye your hair on a regular basis or have a comb-over, though the lattest certainly may not improve your chances with the ladies. That's just the Angry White Loner's reasoning behind not doing any of those things to his own body.

I relate this concept to Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin's final general conference message before passing away in 2008, a talk titled "Come What May, and Love It." Aging gracefully, as I see it, is certainly one way to accept whatever happens and to embrace it as life goes on. I certainly didn't expect to start losing my hair in my 20s—who ever does?—but I accept it and can roll with it.

But Angry White Loner, you say. You wear glasses. And they're sexy as all get-out. Isn't this one way of correcting a "mistake," as by natural processes,you became nearsighted sometime during the fourth or fifth grade and often cheated on eye tests until finally succumbing and getting contact lenses and, later, glasses?

That's a fair point, but this concept doesn't apply to things to make our lives "better" or "normal." No, I am referring to cosmetic choices.

Even with the many things we might change about our bodies if we only could—weight, height, eye color, hair color, complexion, immune system, handicaps, chronic illnesses, and any and all other "thorn(s) in the flesh" that Paul spoke of—we each have, I hope, at least one or two features of which we are enormously proud. And by this I mean the good kind of proud—the kind of proud that makes us look at a photo of ourselves or in the mirror and then look up to Heavenly Father and say, "Thank you for giving me this feature!"

One such thing I can say that about is being a ginger. Though I no longer have as much hair as I once did, and even though what hair I have left on top is no longer red, I was born with red hair and had red hair for my first few birthdays. Then, by natural processes, my hair turned blond and remained so until I was 11 or 12, and then it changed colors again and became brown and then dark brown. (Odds are, it will change colors once again the older I get, assuming it doesn't all fall out.)

A few years later, when I found that I was able to grow facial hair and no longer worked at a company that required me to be clean shaven, I discovered that I could grow a rather awesome red-haired goatee and/or beard. And it's one of the things I like best about myself, physically speaking.

In summary, I suppose, the point I am trying to make is that God doesn't make junk. Our bodies are by no means perfect, but they are the creations of a perfect being. And that fact, in and of itself, makes us, in a sense, pretty amazing creations.