Tag: Dana

We Love Those Who Love Those We Love

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20251 Comment

Dear Will:

A couple of weeks ago Dana and I were in Logan, Utah, seated in a well-appointed lecture hall on the campus of Utah State University, there to hear Bryn defend her Master’s thesis: “Once Our Land Is Gone, It’s Gone”: Farmer Perspectives on Growth, Embeddedness, and the Future of Food in the Great Salt Lake Basin. Scattered about the room were the folks I had expected: fellow students, advisers, various other members of the academic community—even a couple of the farmers who had been featured in her research. 

Dana and I were brought to tears as we heard Bryn’s persuasive narrative about the plight of the local growers who are too often scapegoated for the desiccation of the Great Salt Lake. As Bryn’s research demonstrated, they are passionate men and women whose love of the land and of their craft cannot be doubted, people who—in spite of the forces working against them (climate change, urban sprawl, misplaced political priorities)—continue to find ways to bring food to our tables year after year after year. Had you heard Bryn’s presentation or read her thesis, you too would have come away convinced that the farmers of the Basin deserve our respect and admiration rather than the underappreciation and even vilification that dominates the discourse around Utah’s growing water crisis.

Our emotions that day ran high—and not merely due to Bryn’s moving account. There were others in the hall that day who also moved us to tears. There in the center, about halfway back, was an unexpected quartet, three aunts and an uncle, members of an extensive (and growing) Bryn Fan Club who had driven a couple of hours each way to be there to witness Bryn’s big moment. On the Zoom link were additional members of the BFC, including another aunt, a former teacher, and one of our dearest friends whose avuncular charm has made him one of Bryn’s dear friends now as well. As we watched them watch her, we felt a great outpouring of affection for each of them. None of them are farmers, nor do they have a longstanding interest in the agriculture of the Great Salt Lake Basin. Yet there they were because they love Bryn—and Dana and I felt it deep down. That day we were reminded of something we have noted over and over throughout the years as others have taken interest in our children: We love those who love those we love. 

The week prior, in a totally different place for a totally different reason, we felt similar pangs of tenderness and appreciation. We had gathered in a local park to celebrate our granddaughter’s second birthday. But for a couple of other toddlers, the only other non-grandparents at the party were friends of my son Luke and his wife: delightful, irresistible thirty-somethings who had gathered outside a small zoo on a Saturday afternoon to show love and support to three of the people we love most in the universe. Our granddaughter will remember nothing from that day, but the image of Luke’s friends, doting on my favorite little two-year-old, fills me with wonder and gratitude I cannot fully express.

These emotions were swirling in my breast this past week as I hiked one of our local trails. Along my trek I passed a man who kept calling out: “Kylie girl! Who’s a good girl? Kylie!” He explained that some friends had lost their dog in the area and that he was spending his Saturday trying to reunite them. Immediately I found myself loving both the man and the dog and hoping that by some means I might find Kylie myself.

That’s how this stuff works: Love is infectious in all the right ways. Aunts love nieces; parents love aunts; friends love friends and their dogs, and somehow strangers end up loving them too. So when your daughter loves farmers, there’s only one thing to do: You cut your hike short and give in to her longstanding admonition to support the local farmers’ market. The berries, avocados, carrots, and cucumbers you purchase there will almost be beside the point. You go there to bear witness and give thanks. To acknowledge labor and craft and caring, to honor and respect. And in your own small way to express your love for those she loves as well.

PW

P.S. They found Kylie. Don’t you just love that?

Photo by Shelley Pauls on Unsplash

Like Coming Home

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20241 Comment

Dear Will:

Dana and I were about 10 days into a two-week trip through Italy, with rain threatening to ruin our second day in Cinque Terre. Improvising, we decided to take an unscheduled side-trip to Porto Venere, a small hamlet set on a finger of land poking out into the Mediterranean. Along with its more-famous neighbors that make up the “five lands” of Cinque Terre, Porto Venere has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. There are islands nearby and some old buildings. That’s about all we knew. 

Following a 45-minute train ride, a 15-minute slosh to the bus stop (got lost a couple of times), and a 35-minute ride on a local bus, Dana and I looked around and found that there wasn’t a whole lot going on in Porto Venere. But unlike the villages of Cinque Terre we had visited the previous day, Porto Venere was not overrun by tourists sent ashore from a nearby cruise ship. We loved it immediately. 

We made our way to the old church perched on a rocky outcropping at the edge of town. The Church of St. Peter, we learned, had been consecrated in 1198 (!). It’s a simple edifice, with a plain stone interior almost devoid of ornamentation. The main sanctuary contains simple pews and but one crucifix, and that cloudy day it was dimly lit only by natural light and a few candles left by previous visitors. Music from a single harp floated through its barren walls. It was so quiet and peaceful inside that small chapel that we were enveloped with a sense of reverence. I knew in an instant I had found the church where I would want to worship if I were a local Roman Catholic.

If you’ve spent time in Italy, you might find that a curious choice. During our visit we saw (along with hundreds of others) some of the most famous, magnificent spiritual sanctuaries in the world: the Florence Cathedral, with all of its gothic opulence; the massive St. Peter’s Basilica at the Vatican; the Sistine Chapel, the beauty of which is overwhelming; not to mention several other less-famous but also impressive churches that seem to arise on every corner of every town in Italy. All were beautiful and awe-inspiring, but for all their grandeur and artistry, none of them made me feel connected to God like that small church atop the rocks in Porto Venere. Entering the Church of St. Peter—away from the crowds and the spectacle—was like coming home.

The experience brought to mind a story told by Elder Robert E. Wells in which he describes the embarrassment he felt as a missionary bringing a sophisticated, cultured, well-educated woman to church for the first time. The services were held in an old building under the direction of inexperienced local volunteers. It was a bit of a sloppy mess from start to finish:

On the way home, one of the missionaries began to reflect his embarrassment. He explained: “Please excuse our present building. Some day we will build a lovely new chapel here.” Then he added: “Please excuse our new leaders. We have a lay priesthood, so we take turns conducting, and the new leaders are still learning how to conduct services.” He was just about to give another excuse when Sister Herta Mellor turned to him and said somewhat sternly: “Elder, don’t you apologize! It must have been like this at the time of Christ!”

When I heard that talk (in Spanish), delivered in Elder Wells’ signature baritone, it spoke to my heart. I myself was a missionary—serving at the time in Barrio 15, a small unit of our church near downtown Montevideo, Uruguay. Our tiny congregation met each week in a small, four-room building across the street from a cemetery. In that makeshift chapel we had to rearrange the furniture between meetings. It had broken glass and a wall that was slowly crumbling. Its roof leaked with enthusiasm any time it rained. But, oh! how I loved Barrio 15.

The people of that congregation were humble, faithful, and full of love—unimpressive, and yet the very embodiment of what you might refer to as “the pure love of Christ.” Though I was a foreigner, they embraced me (often literally) as one of their own, showering me with so much love and affection that I would happily have remained in Barrio 15 for the full length of my two-year mission. When it came time for me to move on to my next assignment, I rose before the congregation to say good-bye, but words failed. I stood, I stammered, and then I sobbed like a baby.

So yes, I know something of humble sanctuaries. Thus, when Dana and I discovered the busker whose harp accompanied our visit to the Church of St. Peter, we gladly added a few coins to his hat. To thank him for speaking to our hearts. For helping us connect memories and emotions across the years. For filling us once again with the love of God.

PW

Interior Sanctuary Image: © Achim Tomae/Getty Images

Gotta Get My Steps In

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20242 Comments

Dear Will:

One of the things I love about kids is that they seem to run pretty much everywhere. They don’t think twice about it. When they want to get to wherever-they-are-not-right-now—ZOOM, they’re off. One of the standard games that kids play when they get together seems to be called “Chase Each Other Around.” It’s so fun. Watch recess sometime and it’s like the playground is swarming with starlings.

But throw a few years and several extra pounds on them and everything changes. Those kids become grown-ups and pretty soon it’s asking too much for them to walk 15 extra steps (round trip) to put away their shopping carts—as if the check-out line took the last ounce of energy they had left. “Can’t. Go. On. Must. Find. Water.”

My personal favorite is the guy at the airport who stands and rides the moving walkway. “Barely moving walkway” they should call that thing. It’s humming along at around three feet per minute (conservative guesstimate), but no matter. Our hero must do whatever he can to save his strength because he has five long hours of sitting in one place ahead of him and can’t run the risk of bonking.

But who am I to talk? I am an adult male who hasn’t played Chase Each Other Around in years. So it’s no surprise that the know-it-alls in my personal space are doing all they can to keep me from turning into RidingTheMovingWalkwayGuy. Which is why I now wear a watch on my left wrist that keeps track of the number of steps I take each day. My life insurance provider gave it to me in a transparent effort to keep me from making a claim on my policy. We have a simple arrangement: If I log enough activity over the course of the year and don’t drop dead in the process, they will not raise my rates when I’m up for renewal. Not a bad deal, when you think about it. Plus I got this sweet base-model Fitbit!

(Real life irony: My watch just buzzed to remind me to get up out of this chair and walk around. Curse you, Nanny State!)

You don’t have to be a Google Wizard to find any number of articles extolling the virtues of ambling about. Talk to just about any medical professional and they’ll make it sound like some kind of magic elixir. Here are just a few benefits I found in the first thing I clicked:

  1. Counteracts the effects of weight-promoting genes. (Take that, Mom and Dad!)
  2. Helps tame a sweet tooth. (Not sure I want that, but OK.)
  3. Reduces the risk of developing breast cancer. (You can never be too safe, guys.)
  4. Eases joint pain. (Not in my personal experience, but I’ll trust the science.)
  5. Boosts immune function. (Yes, please.)

All of which is based on actual academic studies. Whatever. But there are additional positive side-effects that those smarty-pants at Harvard didn’t think to study. In my personal clinical trials (sample size = 1) I have identified these other compelling benefits of wandering around:

  1. Makes you eligible for valuable prizes. (Provided, that is, you work for Canvas Worldwide like I do and participate in the 2024 Canvas Worldwide Steps Challenge—which is an actual thing.)
  2. Provides a great excuse to get new shoes. (Confirmed through multiple trials, including this one.)
  3. Delights the dog every time. (Note: Must take dog with you.)
  4. Gives you time to think. (Note: Must not take cellphone with you.)
  5. This.

I probably could go on, but another hour has passed and my watch is nagging me again. Probably ought to get up and move around. Maybe challenge Dana to a quick game of Chase Each Other Around. Gotta get my steps in, after all.

PW

Photo by Ghassan Al-Sibai