Mr. Hines asks for help

Mr. Hines has been teaching US History and coaching varsity baseball for ages at Turlock High School. He's most famous for his "wallpaper" of Sports Illustrated magazines in his classroom and for his (mis)treatment of the young women he has in his class. He openly proclaims that a woman's place is in the kitchen, making his dinner. He complains when his wife is out of town that he's not going to eat for a week.

His intentions are transparent. He wants the girls in his class to stand up and fight for themselves. His methods may be questionable, but the reactions are unmistakable. I remember as a freshman hearing how Deborah and Shannon Turk (class of '91) would work him over because of the comments he made.

My class ('93) had a handful of willing combatants as well, especially one specific girl (who should probably remain unnamed). She wasn't alone, but she's the one Mr. Hines will remember best.

Aside: I went back to see Mr. Hines a few years ago. I went during lunch break and visited until a few of his students were coming in from lunch. One of the girls came in, and comparisons were made. I told her that Mr. Hines told us we were the worst class ever to come through THS. He said that he says that to every class. I reminded him that we had the unnamed girl, and he recanted, confirmed that '93 was indeed the worst ever, and then flew into a tirade about the time he needed to teach her a lesson, resulting in her breaking out in tears, and fleeing the classroom. In her defense, the unnamed girl would probably tell the story differently than Mr. Hines.

I don't remember if it was before or after that incident, but it was obvious throughout the year that Mr. Hines was having trouble keeping the class in order. Mr. Hines is a pretty commanding figure, so this was probably new to him. At any rate, he asked me to stay after class for a few minutes one day, and I did.

In a nutshell, he told me that the classroom problems were my fault. He insisted that of anyone in the classroom (himself included), I was the one that my classmates respected and would listen to. If I publicly demanded peace and order, they would back down for me, where they wouldn't for him. I told him what I had been telling people for years: I enjoyed being in the class of '93. I found it entertaining to watch the struggle. Essentially, I told him that I knew we were tearing teachers apart, and I enjoyed the show. Disappointed, he let me go. I wasn't going to be any help to him.

I don't have too many regrets in my life, but I very much regret that exchange. A teacher who I respected extended a hand and a request for help, and I told him I wasn't willing to stand up and do what was right. At that point in my life, I had neither the courage nor the maturity to face down my peers and take the side of a teacher.

I especially regret that I have no recollection of even considering that my outlook was incorrect in any way. I was making my way through high school on the path of least resistance, and I wasn't about to rock the boat by reconsidering my approach to life.

I regret these choices, and hope to not make these mistakes again.

Adventures with Seth Blatter

Our good friend, Amy (formerly Amy Bailey) had a friend named Seth Blatter. For one spectacular summer, I got regular invitations to tag along with Seth and Amy and their gang. Along with the regular good hang-out and clean partying that we did, we also had a few adventure style outings.

I had always wanted to hike Mt. Timpanogos (or Mt. Timp, as known by the locals). It's about a 16 mile hike round trip, so I assumed (correctly) that it would be about as strenuous as hiking Half Dome, which I had done enough times for it to be comfortable. Seth and the gang had done the hike many times, and they notified me of the plans to start hiking in the early morning (like 3am).

The only real time you can hike Mt. Timp is during the summer. During the other seasons, there's too much snow. I guess you could try in the Fall, before the first snow, but it would be extra chilly at the summit, and I'd stick to summer.

The problem with hiking in the summer is that Utah heats up pretty quick once the sun comes out. The best game plan for tackling Timp is to leave early (early) in the morning, pause for a few minutes at the peak to watch the sun rise, and haul your way back down the mountain before you get heat stroke. By hiking at night, you reduce the need to pack an extreme amount of water.

When the dead of night came, I was ready, and showed up at the rendezvous point with a few apples for snacks and some water to wash it down. I was told that there were two different paths to the top, and that we were taking the trail head above Pleasant Grove. We got hiking in the dark, and made out a few trial markers on our way up. There's a small cabin next to a small lake in a small valley just before you start up the real incline. There is a "saddle" along a ridge as you approach the final push. We were a little behind schedule, and hit the saddle just as the sun was coming over the East mountains. At the very top, there's a small outpost. In the outpost is a small can that has a notepad where everyone who reaches the summit signs and leaves whatever comment they like.

As I relaxed at the summit, I lost my apples. They had been in my stomach, and then I threw them up. They obviously hadn't been digested at all. Up to that point, I hadn't been feeling very well. I think I was suffering from a small bout of altitude sickness. After ditching the dead weight, I had a drink of water and felt much better. If I remember correctly, Seth was doing interviews at the summit with his video recorder, and you can see me puking in the background. I always wanted a copy of that.

Some of the group wanted to take an alternate route home by sliding down the glacier on the north side of Timp. I just wanted to get home. I felt much better on the way down. I paired up with someone who knew the way better than myself, and we pretty much ran the whole way down. The sun was getting higher and we wanted to make it back as quickly as possible.

Side note: the other time I hiked Timp was with Jonathan ??? from our ward, and we saw a moose on our way down.

Seth was a lot of fun to hang out with. In your life, you will meet people who you wish that somehow you could magically have known all your life. Even as they invite you into their circle, you just know that your lives will take separate paths. Knowing Seth was like this for me. It was fun while it lasted.

Somewhere out there, Seth Blatter is having a great time with genuine friends. I wish him the best.

Other memories from Provo:
- jumping into the lake with Seth and friends
- ward Commando
- ward "Steal the Present"
- ward Assassination

That one random kid in the picture

In my parents home, there are lots of pictures hanging on the walls.  There is a "these are our ancestors" wall, a "Eagle Scout commeratives" wall, a "wedding pictures" wall, a "family pictures" wall, and a "random group pictures" wall.  This last wall is probably my favorite.  There are lots of big groups, and lots of people that I don't see as much as I'd like anymore.

If you look carefully, there's one picture of all the cousins with a little blonde boy.  This little blonde boy is smiling, sitting with the entire group.  It's obvious from his demeanor that he belongs in the picture.  I will personally guarantee you that no one else in the picture (all the cousins) will be able to tell you his name.

Our family loves to have big gatherings.  It's always been that way.  If I remember correctly, this gathering was at Downey park in Modesto.   This was probably the occasion of a birthday, but it needn't have been.  We may have been getting the whole family together just for the sake of getting together.  

On this particular day, I was in the beginning stages of my infatuation with the frisbee.  You'll see in the picture that the orange disc is appropriately fixed in my hand.  It was because of this disc that a particular stanger, a little blonde boy, wanted to join in our activities.  As we were tossing the disc, I could tell that this young boy wanted to play.  At first, I was reluctant, but then realized that it would be important to him.  I asked if he wanted to play, and he quickly joined in.

I don't remember if he had family nearby.  I don't remember if he came over to eat when we had dinner (and probably cake afterward).  I do remember that when it was time to document the proceedings of the day with a photograph, that he plopped himself down because it was the only sensible thing to do.  Some of the adults questioned his presense, but I insisted that it wouldn't hurt anyone, and he was happy to participate.

I'm sure I knew his name on that day, but I can't tell you now, and I'd bet dollars to donuts that none of the other cousins can, either.

Montpelier Phone Number

I can't remember my address from a year ago, but I can remember my phone number from more than 20 years ago.

Eight four seven - twenty three eleven

It kinda bounces along and rolls off the tongue like a good phone number should.

The Outdoor Code

Leading up to my Eagle Review, I tried to pay attention to others who had gone before me, so I could get a good idea as to what I was facing. It was common knowledge that the review boards for the other advancements in the Boy Scouts were largely ceremonial. As long as you looked the part and had your papers in line, there really wasn't anyone telling you that you weren't worthy of your Tenderfoot badge.

The Eagle Reviews were different. They brought in the big guns, and they liked to drill you to make sure you knew your stuff. The only scouts that got a free pass were those who did their interview on the day before their 18th birthday. Everyone else had an uphill battle.

In one of the reviews before mine, they had asked the scout to recite "The Outdoor Code". It's about four lines long, and is presented in the Boy Scout Handbook (I don't remember it now), but it doesn't receive the same attention as the Scout Oath and the Scout Law (both of which I remember to this day). At any rate, I crammed for the last half hour making sure I would be able to recite the Outdoor Code if called upon.

The word got in to the reviewers that I was making my preparations, and they dutifully asked me to recite "The Outdoor Code" as the final question of my Review. If I hadn't spent so much time memorizing it, they would have never asked me.

I remember this because in the next few months, I will be preparing for my Preliminary Oral Exam for my PhD, in which a panel of 5 professors can ask me any question they see fit to ask, and can fail me for anything they want. It's pretty well known that this freaks me out, and I'm afraid they are thinking up especially tough questions, just so they can see me squirm. Fun for me.

Our Story, Part 7: Finale

Denise stayed a few days in Calofornia, and then came back to school. On her way home, she took a day and stayed with her Aunt Jill and Uncle Gill in St. George, Utah. When she got back, I was there waiting for her, anxious about her decision.

I reiterate that I was doing the best that I possibly could to let her make this decision on her own. Up to this point, the most affection I had really shown her (except for the marriage proposal) was a small kiss on the cheek the night before she left. I found out later on, that she was very frustrated that I wasn't a faster mover in this area. She said "If this is his idea of kissing, this isn't going to work out."

Somewhere in these few days (between St. George and the first days back), Denise decided to go on a mission. She had already received her call. She had already met with Bishop Lindahl, who she desperately wanted to talk to about me, but was rushed out of his office before she could get a word in edgewise. All that day she felt confused, and had a hard time concentrating. It became pretty clear that this was the "stupor of thought" that we all hear about. This scared Denise because she knew what the alternative was.

Later that night, she prayed to know if it was right to marry me. She got her answer. She said "OK, Lord, I'll do this, but I want you to know I'm doing this on faith." That night, we talked on her porch again, and as I was going to leave, I gave her another kiss on the cheek. She turned to me and asked "Is that all I get?". Never had sweeter words entered my ears. Up until this point, I had been desperately trying to figure out what was going, on, and this was my first clue that things were going my way.

We kissed for a bit, and then we had a good talk about other things - like me asking her to marry her, but never telling her that I loved her. I quickly repented of that, and told her that I loved her very much. At this point she said "Good, because I've decided to stay home and marry you." I was overjoyed. I immediately insisted that we call the temple first thing early in the morning. (Sidenote: Denise still thinks this is one of the funniest parts of the story.) I had 4 engaged roommates, and if I had learned anything, it was that summer temple schedules fill up fast.

We agreed on the San Diego temple and talked about a date, and agreed on the weeknd of August 15th. Ben was getting married on August 22nd, so we couldn't have it that day, and school would be starting after the weekend of the 29th, and that wouldn't leave time for a honeymoon. We called the temple the next day, and the San Diego temple was to be closed for cleaning August 1st through August 17th. Although it was pushing things much closer than we had anticipated, we decided we absolutely didn't want to wait for a Christmas wedding, and decided on July 31st.

We were glad we did. We had beautiful weather. For both the reception in the Rose Garden at the Courthouse in Rancho and the backyard reception in Turlock, the temperature dropped about 20 degrees compared to previous days. One of the most memorable moments for me came during lunch when the Bjarnason cousins (I remember that Leon's children were particularly exuberant) sang some silly song about rootbeer (introduced by Liz - see comment). It was wonderful - the epitome of Bjarnason family gatherings. Fun, singing, comraderie. It was a spectacular day for all involved, and I was pleased to share it with everyone who decided to be involved.

More than anything else, I was so very happy to have married Denise. She was a gorgeous bride and a has been a wonderful wive and mother. I made the right decision in choosing to spend my eternities with her.

This is the last thread in this post. As I've posted, Denise had helped me correct some of my fallacious recollections. As that has happened (when I've agreed to be corrected), I've gone back and changed the post. If any of you have contradictory memories, please feel free to share them as you see fit. This forum is intended to be open to all those who have memories of these same events, and I welcome your comments.

Our Story, Part 6: Jake

Denise had written two missionaries leading up to the summer that she send in her own papers, Mark and Jake. Towards, the end, she was only serious about Jake. Jake is a really nice guy, very soft-spoken and approachable. He was the first member of his family to graduate from high school and attend college. He grew up installing heating and A/C units with his (very successful) father. Oh, yes, Jake is 6'5'' and around 220 lbs.

On Denise's drive home (the day after graduation), she checked in with her mom, who told her that Jake wanted to take her out that night. Jake was just home from his mission. Denise was tired. I had run her through the ringer for the previous week, and she was on the last leg of a 9 hour drive. She told her mom that she didn't really want to go out, and that they could go out some other day. She was tired.

Of course, Jake was waiting for her when she drove up. She quickly showered as Jake patiently waited. Denise muttered something to her mother about not wanting Jake to get the wrong idea. Terri insisted that Jake just wanted to be friends, which Denise didn't believe for a second. Jake had planned on taking Denise out to a Rancho Cucamonga Quakes minor league baseball game (their stadium is named the Epicenter). As they got to Jake's truck, Jake opened the door, and there was a box of long-stemmed red roses. Denise took them back to her mom, and questioned "Just friends, huh, Mom?"

Fortunately for me, Denise was tired, and after the game was over she just wanted to go home. That weekend, Jake's brother had a wedding reception at Jake's house. Rumors were starting to leak out that there was some guy waiting for Denise back in Provo with a marriage proposal. While Denise wasn't interested in a relationship with Jake, she didn't want to hurt his feelings, and threatened people to keep quiet, so that she could be the one to break the news to Jake.

I don't remember other stories from the few days that Denise was home. On her way back to Provo, she spent a night at her Uncle Gill and Aunt Jill's in St. George, desperately trying to get away from everyone pestering her about what she was going to do.

Later, after we were engaged, I visited Rancho. We were all hanging out in Denise's living room, and there was a knock at the door. Denise asked who it was, and Jayme and Kim announced that Jake was coming over. Sure enough, Jake walked around the corner. I was sitting on the couch. Jake introduced himself, and I sat there as he came over to shake my hand. I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself, and the last thing I wanted to happen was for the obvious comparison to be made should I stand toe to toe with him. Jake is a great guy, and I have only good things to say about him.

Nonetheless, he does play his part in our story.

Next Post, Part 7: Finale

Our Story, Part 5: Deborah

Deborah was the Relief Society President for the entire 2-year period leading up to our engagement. She obviously knew all the girls in the ward very well, and I often went to her for recommendations, as I dated girls in the ward almost exclusively. In the two years after my mission, the three girls that I dated most were Janey, Aubri, and Rachel (all in the ward). Deborah really liked Rachel. More specifically, Deborah really liked "Ronny and Rachel".

Unfortunately, it was pretty clear (to both Rachel and I) from the beginning that things weren't going to work out, but neither one of us had anyone else knocking down our door, so we kept dating until February of 1998, when we broke up for the last time (yes there had been brief periods before). I wasn't too heartbroken. Like I said, it was obvious to us both that things weren't going to work out. Perhaps Deborah was more heartbroken than I was, because she was vocal with her opinions suggesting she would like us to get back together.

Like the rest of the ward (apparently), Deborah also took notice that Denise and I had been spending a lot of time together. She was the final person to try to nail me down with the "What's going on between you and Denise?" question right before I headed into my wedding seminar with my engaged roommates the night before Denise got her call. Of course I was very convincing that night, because up to that point, I hadn't even seriously considered marrying Denise.

Deborah was graduating that term, so Mom and Dad and the whole family were already planning their trip to Provo to celebrate the first BYU graduations of the 2nd Grace Bjarnason generation (along with cousin Dave). Denise insisted that I notify my parents that something was going on. One night on the phone with Mom, I told her "Mom, when you get here, there might be someone here for you to meet." Denise was concerned that this message was too ambiguous. I knew, however, that this was a pristine code in Mom-speak that directly translated to "Mother, I have found a girl that I might marry. You need to instruct Father to be on his best behavior." Of course I was right.

Mom arrived before Dad, and took myself, Denise and Liz out to eat at T.G.I.Fridays. Before our food got there, I excused myself to the bathroom to wash my hands. No sooner had I left the table than Liz turned to Denise and asked if it was time to do "the interview". Nothing really came of it, but after that, Denise and I both thought that Liz had picked up on the hints, and knew what was going on. We found out later that Liz was kidding, and was blind to the situation.

On the day of graduation, Denise and I went together. After the graduates exited, Denise and I walked up the Marriott Center stairs and out the portal to find Dave and Deborah. As we exited the arena into the light of the concourse, there were Dave and Deborah. Deborah looked at us and did not look happy at all to see us together. Denise and I immediately suspected the obvious: Deborah was unhappy that Denise and I were turning into an item. This was a concern.

After graduation, Dad took us all, with Uncle John's family to the Olive Garden. Grandma Grace was there. Dad (on his best behavior), discretely talked to Denise out on the lawn. Denise did the best she could to keep quiet during dinner. Deborah, however, was very interested in letting everyone know that "Denise is going to go on a mission" - another clear signal that either Deborah was completely clueless or would rather have Denise in Brazil. Later that night, after Denise had left for California, I told Mom and Dad the whole story - that I had proposed, and gone to the temple, and Denise was still deciding, and that Deborah had no clue whatsoever. They told me that I needed to tell Deborah.

Secretly I was a little proud of myself that I had practically gotten engaged right under the nose of Deborah, who up to this point had been acutely aware of all my dating situations. I agreed that I needed to tell her.

The next day, without Uncle John's family, Dad took us to the Brick Oven. Grandma Grace was there again. Over dinner, the conversation turned to Deborah leaving the ward, and who would be replacing her as Relief Society President. Our brand new bishop had asked her for names, and she told us she had suggested three. I offered my guess to the three names she presented, and Deborah whispered something into Mom's ear. I asked Deborah what she had said, but she declined. I told her I would tell her something she wanted to know if she would tell me what she said to Mom.

She sat up straight, stiffened her shoulders, and gave me her best "How could you possibly know something that I don't know?" look. Mom and Dad knew differently, and with a little cajoling (especially on the part of Dad), they convinced her that this was a really good trade. She told me that what she had whispered was that I had guessed very well. I told her that I had proposed to Denise. She was floored. Later that night, in Deborah's apartment, I told her the whole story, from the beginning, including the parts where Denise and I were convinced that Deborah did not approve.

Deborah felt inclined to set things straight and asked permission to call Denise at her home to tell her that she approved. I told her no. She insisted. I again told her no. She re-insisted. I told her that I wanted to give Denise her space, and that I wasn't going to call Denise before she got back to Provo, and so she shouldn't call her either - NO. Deborah pleaded. I instructed her that I had told her no three times, but that she had her free agency and could do what she wanted.

Deborah called first thing in the morning.

Denise had a fun time explaining that phone call to her mother.

Next Post: Part 6: Jake

Other memories from Graduation 1998:
- Grandma Grace desperately trying to pay the bill at Olive Garden