Humor Minus Time

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20142 Comments

Dear Will:

I’ve heard that Mark Twain once said: “Humor is tragedy plus time.” So it’s probably too soon for me to be sharing with you my most recent misadventures under the kitchen sink. For the rest of you, just watching it live from a few feet away would create sufficient time to transform the unfolding tragedy into double-you-over, spasmodic-giggle-inducing humor, but for the incompetent handyman who lived through the ordeal, it’s still a little hard to crack a smile.

I cracked just about every other part of my body, however. Any time you have to stick a bald head in a tight space you are pretty much inviting unsightly gashes. Meanwhile, my arms look as if I came out on the losing end of Fruit Ninja Live. The loss of blood isn’t that big of a deal—the stuff regenerates, right?—but the lost dignity may never be recovered.

First of all—just so that we’re all clear on this subject—we’re talking about plumbing here, and plumbing is evil. I’m pretty sure they’ve done studies to show that no plumbing project, no matter how innocuous or straightforward, has ever taken less than the entire day on which it was begun. And they have also shown that if there is an imminent event of some import—dinner guests, say, or perhaps the UCLA vs. USC football game, or maybe a looming Thanksgiving Day feast—or, God forbid, ALL THREE—the chances of everything going smoothly are less than zero. I don’t know how that math works out exactly, but it’s science, so it must be true.

So imagine my unbridled euphoria when we discovered a small, almost imperceptible drip under the sink last week. My expert diagnosis determined that the hose on the faucet was at fault. Well that seems simple enough, I thought. Just unscrew the old one and put in a new one. Even I can do that. [INSERT SPONTANEOUS, OFF-CAMERA LAUGHTER HERE.]

I will spare you the details—not that you wouldn’t enjoy them—but I just can’t bear to relive the whole thing. So I’ll give you my Saturday in a series of 140-characters-or-less tweets instead:

  • [1:34 pm] That Price Pfister hose costs 70 bucks. Smarter to just replace the whole faucet. Heading to Costco. #priceypfister
  • [3:49 pm] How do you loosen a corroded flange you can’t even reach? AND HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO PLUMBING WITHOUT SWEAR WORDS? #muffledgrunts
  • [5:04 pm] Game’s starting and I don’t even have the old fixtures out yet. Bringing in Manuel for reinforcements. #nothappy #mannyfromheaven
  • [6:29 pm] Home Depot. #lovemyDVR
  • [7:08 pm] One last trip to Home Depot. #almostfinished #gobruins
  • [7:29 pm] Back at Home Depot. #notamused #watchthegamewithoutme
  • [8:02 pm] Home #$*&@% Depot.
  • [8:43 pm] Fifth trip to Home Depot. Bruins win. Or so I’ve heard. #worstSaturdayever

And in all of this I’m leaving out the part about finishing at 10:30 pm, about smelling smoke when we turned on the dishwasher, about the visit from the electrician and the malfunctioning reverse osmosis system that we discovered after he left. But all of that is in the past. Today is Thanksgiving, and we have a brand new kitchen faucet, and were it not for the fact that last night we discovered something dripping under the kitchen sink, those pangs in my gut might be signs of hunger.

May your days be filled joy—rather than, say, humor—throughout this holiday season.

PW

Must. Find. Water.

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20144 Comments

Dear Will:

When time and circumstance allow, I like to hike up, over, and around the hills in the area as a way to be alone with my thoughts. I keep a small daypack at the ready so that I can pretty much just grab it and go. I leave the pack stocked with a small variety of just-in-case essentials, including a small first aid kit, a tiny flashlight, a compact windbreaker, and a few fistfuls of trail food—most of which I never use and should not need while traversing familiar, local trails so close to home. The real purpose for the daypack is to carry my Camelbak hydration unit, which is a fancy way to say a 2-liter, over-the-shoulder canteen. That item I use every time.

If I were to hike in actual wilderness, I would surely pack more thoughtfully and carry a bigger pack, but even then the most critical item would be the water. Even if I found myself hopelessly lost, miles from the trailhead, I could blister up, break a bone, run out of food, and bivouac under a saguaro for weeks if I had to; but if I ran out of water I’d be in major trouble within hours regardless of how much moleskin and trail mix I had on hand.

Although I’m not exactly what anyone would consider a rugged outdoorsman, I am smart enough to know that if I were to head out on a distant trek I should carry plenty of water with me and ensure that I have a clear idea of where I can obtain more along the way—especially if I know I will be wandering into unfamiliar lands without clearly marked trails. And I would not, under any circum­stances, forgo water unless compelled to do so. Water is perhaps the only essential. Water is life.

Now hold that thought as you consider the following: It doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination to see mortality as the ultimate through-hike—a long-distance slog up, over, and around all kinds of hills and other obstacles. In that sense, Alma probably had it right when he called us “wanderers in a strange land” (Alma 13:23). Usually the trail is clearly marked, but certainly there are times when we amble off and suddenly find ourselves bushwhacking, unsure of where we’re headed. No matter how well-equipped we may think we are, eventually we may find ourselves tired, discouraged, and increasingly thirsty, muttering to ourselves through cracked and bleeding lips: Must. Find. Water.

And well we might ask: As we go along through the various peaks and valleys of life, when we wander off-trail, or when we stumble and find ourselves disoriented and unable to find our bearings, how long will our reserves hold out? What should we do if our canteens run dry? Where, in this journey from birth to death, do we find water along the way?

The scriptures have the answer. In Jeremiah, Jehovah declares himself to be “the fountain of living waters” (Jeremiah 2:13)—a lesson reiterated and magnified by Jesus when He taught: “Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life” (John 4:14). He is saying, in essence, that we cannot live without Him. Literally. When Jesus taught that He is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6), He further emphasized that point. Jesus = Water. Water = Life. Jesus = Life.

With Him, you will not thirst, you cannot run dry. So take it from one who knows: Should you feel inclined, now or at any time, to wander off the trail, please make sure you take Water along for the journey. You will surely need it.

PW

To Try Again, and Then Again

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20141 Comment

Dear Will:

I am in such bad shape. I haven’t had any sort of formal exercise program for years because (I told myself) my obligations as an early morning Seminary teacher made it impossible for me to work in a workout. So I’d hike the hills from time to time, but other than that I did little else but sit at my desk each day watching my waistline get doughier and doughier. My wife even took to calling me Jabba. (Not true, but I kept expecting it.)

Well, the Seminary excuse is dead, so I’ve little choice but to start exercising. I won’t bore you with my unimpressive plans, but I will say this much: One thing I did was download an app that creates randomized exercise routines that take little time, space, or equipment. (You gotta start somewhere, right?) So yesterday, with a bit of trepidation, I fired up my iPad and gave it a go.

It was everything I expected it to be. Which is to say, it was dreadful. I had neither strength nor stamina nor the internal fortitude to push through the lack of strength and stamina. My body was so traumatized by actual activity (Hey! What’s this all about?) that it took me as long to recover as it did to perform the rudimentary calisthenics. It was awkward. Painful. Embarrassing.

But you know what? Later that day it was kind of nice to feel the sort of residual stiffness that comes from exercise. And today? I’m sore all over, but it’s a good sore. An encouraging sore. Motivating even. I’m feeling eager to get back at it and reclaim a little dignity along with a couple of pairs of pants I no longer take off of the hanger.

As with any previously inactive dude who makes a few feeble attempts at working out, the test will be whether next year or next month or next week I’m still at it. It does get easier, right? And it does, eventually, bear fruit. That’s what we know from experience—and what we promise ourselves when we first set out. Ralph Waldo Emerson famously said: “That which we persist in doing becomes easier to do; not that the nature of the thing has changed but that our power to do has increased.”

Don’t get me wrong. I have no delusions of appearing on the cover of Men’s Health. But becoming a few pounds lighter would be a good thing. And having the sense of  vigor that comes from regular exercise would be even better.

So what does any of this have to do with you? This: If you ever ponder coming back to the church you once loved, it may be awkward at first—uncomfortable even. That part is perhaps unavoidable. But if you’ll stick with it, I promise that we’ll minimize that discomfort for you. And at the end of that first Sabbath morning when you find yourself at home considering what just happened, I’m confident that you’ll feel encouraged—motivated even—to try again, and then again, persisting until your power (and inclination) to do has increased.

Ultimately, the benefit of reigniting faith far outweighs the trepidation you may feel about starting again. President David O. McKay once said: “Spirituality is the consciousness of victory over self, and of communion with the Infinite. Spirituality impels one to conquer difficulties and acquire more and more strength. To feel one’s faculties unfolding and truth expanding the soul is one of life’s sublimest experiences.”

Will it be easy? Maybe not. Will it be worth it? Absolutely. So come and join us. You’ll be glad you did. And so will we.

PW