Friday, January 27, 2012

Some of the things we did in the Bishopric

Recreating the Role of Matt Foley

A couple of years for the Bishopric's skit at Young Women's Camp I recreated the role of Matt Foley.  The year before was probably better, as the entire skit was based on Matt Foley.  This skit starts half way was we were singing YMCA to begin with.  This is also a platform for me to make a fool of myself in front of my daughter.  I guess that is OK as it is all in fun.  I'm glad someone put it on You Tube to share.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

I beheld a Tree

I Beheld a Tree
Lehi: I beheld a tree whose fruit was desirous to make one happy.
And when I ate the fruit it was sweet and pure;
And it filled my soul with exceedingly great joy.

Nephi: I beheld a tree whose beauty was far beyond, exceeding all beauty.
And it was white as the driven snow.
And it was the pure love of God.

Lehi: I beheld a rod of iron.  Nephi: And it was the word of God.
Both:  Hold to the rod and perish not.
I beheld a tree whose beauty was far beyond, and it was the love of God.
And its fruit will make you happy.

Come take of the fruit!  Come take of the fruit!
For it is most desirable, and will bring joy to your soul.
For it is the love of God.

Poems I like from Latin American Lit Class

I took Latin American Literature from Jaime Cantarovici at Utah State.  It was really an enjoyable class.  One which the professor really loved, and tried to instill that love in us as students.  If I remember it was also in two parts, covering a couple trimesters. 

I thought I would share a few poems.
Gabriela Mistral wrote children's poems
Dame la mano Give Me Your Hand

Dame la mano y danzaremos;
dame la mano y me amarás.
Como una sola flor seremos
como una flor, y nada más.

El mismo verso cantaremos,
al mismo paso bailarás.
Como un espiga ondularemos,
como una espiga, y nada más.

Te llamas Rosa y yo Esperanza;
pero tu nombre olvidarás,
porque seremos una danza
en la colina, y nada más.
(This translation is not mine, mine in brackets)
Give your hand and we'll be dancing; (we will dance)
Give your hand and you will love me.
Like a single flower we will be
Like a single flower, and nothing more.

The same verse we'll be singing,
With the same beat you'll be dancing.
Like a spike we'll be waving,  (Like a wheat stalk we'll be waving in the wind)
Like a spike (wheat stalk), and nothing more.

Your name is Rosa (Rose)and my name is Esperanza*; (Hope)
But your name you'll forget,
Because we'll be a dance
On the hill, and nothing more.
Another one of my favorite, because of the way it sounds is "La Duquesa Job"

I especially like this verse:
Desde las puertas de la Sorpresa
hasta la esquina del Jockey Club,
no hay española, yanqui o francesa,
ni más bonita, ni más traviesa
que la duquesa del duque Job.
From the doors of the Surprise
to the corner of Jockey Club
There is no Spaniard, Yankee or french woman
prettier, nor more mischieveous
than the duchess of duke Job.

The poem talks about her beauty, and at times becomes a bit risque, but it ends with this last verse.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Poems I like: Hudson's Geese

 I understand the author recently passed away.  I heard him recite this on BYUTV.  May my love for Sheri be equal to that of the goose.

Hudson's Geese

Hudson tells us of them,
the two migrating geese,
she hurt in the wing
indomitably walking
the length of a continent,
and he wheeling above
calling his distress.
They could not have lived.
Already I see her wing
scraped past the bone
as she drags it through rubble.
A fox, maybe, took her
in his snap jaws. And what
would he do, the point
of his circling gone?
The wilderness of his cry
falling through an air
turned instantly to winter
would warn the guns of him.
If a fowler dropped him,
let it have been quick,
pellets hitting brain
and heart so his weight
came down senseless,
and nothing but his body
to enter the dog's mouth. — Leslie Norris

Poems I LIke: The Ambulance Down in the Valley

I think this is the social worker in me that likes this poem.  I came across it while participating with a community group looking at teen pregnancy in Roosevelt, Utah.
A Fence or an Ambulance
[A poetic case for the value of prevention]
'Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed,
Though to walk near its crest was so pleasant;
But over its terrible edge there had slipped
A duke and full many a peasant.
So the people said something would have to be done,
But their projects did not at all tally;
Some said, "Put a fence 'round the edge of the cliff,"
Some, "An ambulance down in the valley."
But the cry for the ambulance carried the day,
For it spread through the neighboring city;
A fence may be useful or not, it is true,
But each heart became full of pity
For those who slipped over the dangerous cliff;
And the dwellers in highway and alley
Gave pounds and gave pence, not to put up a fence,
But an ambulance down in the valley.
"For the cliff is all right, if you're careful," they said,
"And, if folks even slip and are dropping,
It isn't the slipping that hurts them so much
As the shock down below when they're stopping."
So day after day, as these mishaps occurred,
Quick forth would those rescuers sally
To pick up the victims who fell off the cliff,
With their ambulance down in the valley.
Then an old sage remarked: "It's a marvel to me
That people give far more attention
To repairing results than to stopping the cause,
When they'd much better aim at prevention.
Let us stop at its source all this mischief," cried he,
"Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally;
If the cliff we will fence, we might almost dispense
With the ambulance down in the valley."
"Oh he's a fanatic," the others rejoined,
"Dispense with the ambulance? Never!
He'd dispense with all charities, too, if he could;
No! No! We'll support them forever.
Aren't we picking up folks just as fast as they fall?
And shall this man dictate to us? Shall he?
Why should people of sense stop to put up a fence,
While the ambulance works in the valley?"
But the sensible few, who are practical too,
Will not bear with such nonsense much longer;
They believe that prevention is better than cure,
And their party will soon be the stronger.
Encourage them then, with your purse, voice, and pen,
And while other philanthropists dally,
They will scorn all pretense, and put up a stout fence
On the cliff that hangs over the valley.
Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old,
For the voice of true wisdom is calling.
"To rescue the fallen is good, but 'tis best
To prevent other people from falling."
Better close up the source of temptation and crime
Than deliver from dungeon or galley;
Better put a strong fence 'round the top of the cliff
Than an ambulance down in the valley.
-- Joseph Malins (1895)

Monday, January 16, 2012

The Oak Forrest of San Joaquin Valley

The Oak Forest of San Joaquin Valley

Sometimes, if it is on top of a hill, a scrub oak looks like a mighty tree,
Its branches silhouetted by the sun, making it appear large.
And so are the hills of California, but some are barren of oak,
Whether they were always barren, or the oak harvested, I don’t know.

At one time, so I’ve read, oak forests filled the San Joaquin Valley,
Miles and miles of forests, extending out from the rivers,
Crowded with elk, bear and deer which roamed in their daily routine.
A man could hunt for an hour, and feed his family for a week.

The rivers had an abundance of duck and geese, which would take to flight if scared,
And within the water were fish in abundance, which could be easily harvested.
But the river was untamed, seasonally spilling over its banks and threatening
The homes of those who lived along its banks.

But the age of the steam boat, was the end of the forests.
The oak was harvested to power the steam engines,
Or  to be hauled on those same steamboats to urban centers,
Where it provided fuel for fireplaces and stoves.

The great oak forests gave way to field of grain, except for a sliver along the river.
This was not hard oak, but soft oak from being too close to the water,
Not as good for heating or providing steam power, and so, like the oak on the hills, it remains,
A reminder of the oak forest that extended out though the valley.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Your Heart Will Burn

This is the program for the musical I directed in our ward in 2005.

Scanned Pictures of Sheri and I as Babies

Mark, Sheri, Mike, Terry

 Sheri, Bug (Charity) looked like her

Sheri, Cammie, Mike, Kirk and Terry with Grandpa and Grandma Alvin Scoresby and Martha Wilson Scoresby
 There are no pictures of Sheri when she was a baby as they were destroyed in a flood.
Mark, Sheri, Grandpa David Scoresby, Mike, Terry

Me as a newborn

Weldon, Sara and Connie and me in jumper

Weldon, Sara, Mom, I am the baby in arms, Connie

Me on tricycle
Weldon, Sara, me in arms and Connie

Monday, January 2, 2012

Baby Pictures of our Kids; Comparison to Elliott and Skylar




Baby Elliott
Baby Anthony
Elliott two weeks

These pictures Miranda scanned t the computer so we could compare Elliott to other baby pictures to see who he most looks like.  Everyone has to make their own judgement.  But he does have a chin similar to all the kids.  He has the Caleb, Mark Charity nose.  He has Caleb, Miranda hairline.  Mark had more hair.  Maybe you can see other similarities.
 Baby Skylar was born 12/21/12