Fred Warner is a Better BYU Graduate than Puka Nacua. Why? Character.

    I am confident that Warner does not have girl or women problems. He is a man who would not hurt a female partner, right? Nacua? What is the deal?

    A second woman has serious issues with this guy that I thought was so cool, becasue of his skills.

    No, Fred Warner has to be better than Puka.

    I hope them the best. On the field, but more importantly off.

    May we do the same.

    Be good with all people. Men and women, children, and even the animals and plants.

 How and Why and Where Do Our Thoughts and Perceptions Go?

    Are we scatterbrained? Are I. Does grammar matter? It do?

    How much can you grammatically attack and control another language?

    I can, usually, my second.

    Thoughts, random and ranging.

    My wife reads a book in the terminal, getting away.

    My book from Chile maybe reached 7 chapters out of 52. I thought for a few years that it had reached 11 or 12 But maybe we could still finish it. My daughter offered it.

    So many books. So many! Tales and narratives from room to room, floor to floor. Fiction and the non. Many more to read and ingest. Like the "History Play" from the library now. Overdue.

    Kazakhstan. A player from there. Here name can be hard to pronounce, Russian.

    A map of Central America lays sideways on a cabinet in my office. A drive and a walk away.

    My son drove home on the stick tonight. He stalled a few times, some drivers were slowed. We were okay.

    We checked out a comic book store. I think that I had been there before. The seller was cool. Green hair, she reads more DC but loves Doctor Doom. The original owner had moved it from Landsdowne.

    Landsdowne, where the German-based son is. The other goes to northern Brazil, which has a place that will be more like Africa than many places. My father , flies to Minnesota to the funeral of Keith Bentler, his buddy from Sierra Leone.

    My buddy from the 100,000 acres of Vernon Parrish read Circe, as did the acerbic father of the five or six year-old, whose wife was in Iraq last year.

    We should not go to Iraq now. Donald Trump negotiated it in July. He gets us out of there, as he wanted to in Afghanistan. As he did in Syria. Mostly all wrong, as I can tell.

    I am small. Little influence.

    Two co-workers do not want an after hours get together, even if billable.

    The director of operations is smart, funny.

    I like the food and the party at the Toilet Bowl.

    Who and what is that? Ask me later.

    What do you learn from a job in 8 months?

    At a base? In a city? In a building.

    My buddy got me a two thousand dollar bonus.

    Perhaps we earn 500 from helping our daughter.

    My dad leaves his current wife to care for her mother.

    Right next to Pepper Grass. A "safe word" maybe. Ha ha.

    What else? The Hurricanes trouncing A & M 77-0. Third quarter.

    White Sox lose again, the lead is slim.

    I read a book of Marlowe over Shakespeare.

    Need to finish the Ballard book. Is it the TV show?

    I love my wife. She gives me much, I cannot demand much more.

    Even though I would like some. Like a kiss, a or a reading.

    She does not sing my songs, which I do not have too much of.

    Yeah, one was another tune.

    My niece has a baby.

    Titans lose to Riverside, tonight.

    I hope to play tennis soon.

    And watch some more.

    Like the U.S. Open. I stayed up late to see Shelton upend Alcaraz.

    I have many other thoughts.

    Tiring, perhaps?

    it's okay, don't think twice, babe.

    Love the literature.

 My Heart is in Iberia, At Times. My brain is Everywhere Else

    My love will be in the southwest penisula, for a time. Spending time with nature, and our daughter, and her soul. Good things to do, even though her colleagues and some neighbors would not be paid to attempt it. To each, their own. Different strokes.

    Even though she may not read this for years, or ever, I will write it out and have it make some sense to me. And maybe to others. Sometimes I fancy myself a writer, but other times I see myself as writing into the ether, with ephemeral scribblings not going too far...

    They do not garner much attention, or acclaim, or even interest from some that I would hope might have interest. Everything else is interesting to some but not the writings that I sometimes pour my heart into. But then again, I have not formalized them in print, like a local former high school teacher, or my own dad a few states away.

    My mom would not watch me play basketball unless I was on a school team. She did not care so much that I put on a uniformed jersey for my church squad. My junior year of high school we were not bad. But not high school level. Sorry mom, maybe I should have figured that out and articulated it then. I think about it now. Or the bronco league baseball I played when younger. I do not think my parents ever watched me. They were working, besides.

    I could have played Little League, but I was not driven enough, and too timid, and not "pushed" enough. Or encouraged enough. Yeah, all those things. I was good enough for baseball, but it required more motivation and effort. It wasn't there, maybe mostly missing from me.

    Woe is me, goes this tale. It's okay. I write more than I do.

    I observe and analyze baseball more than I play. We saw our son play. That was swell. The coaches flubbed his at bats at the end, and they lost the highest glory. All of our loss. A father's thoughts and bias, of course.

    Yes, woe is me. Woe is Rogie, my mom and her sister would say. Back when I watched the All-Star game alone at my aunt's house. Lonely times. I should have used more books as my friends. More of the writers; perhaps a few like me.

    My heart goes across Spain, and a little bit of Portugual, and some neighboring islands. I can vist in Valencia or Valladolid in my waking visions, or sleep and slumber among the plains and the coasts, and the craggy mountains. As some have, like Hemingway or Orwell. Times of more troubles back then.

    The Sun Also Rise in Catalonia. I remember Sarah Schwen talking about Catalunya back in high school. She came over to the house, maybe because of Kirk Sanders.

    Me, trapped in stultifying math class, wither her younger sister.

    Oh, great memories, sort. Great and terrible. Things to come, maybe frustrations to get used to. Wanting to succeed but not doing so.

    We contemplated Spain, we read some books and hosted some students.

    Was it a full three weeks? Long enough.

    I made it back the summer of some of my Hemingway. I am not sure if I finished his anthology, crossing the streets of Boston.

    Tracking down my guy Raines in Montreal, the quest of the raised decade of the 80s.

    Me  in Spain, my heart and love in Spain, the class of El Mio Cid of Spain, the other teacher at BYU from there. Madrid, perhaps. Like my third grade Spanish teacher, with blonde hair.

    Sometimes Spain is too much with us. Or not enough.

    A restaurant in Riverside or Long Beach, I think of them.

    Tapas and churros, quizas.

    Y tal vez ella leera de esto. Y sabra donde se ponen los accentos como pudiera hablarlos.

    Amen.

 Top College Football Experiences Live - Good Times

    How many lives college football game have I attended?

    Maybe 20? Thirty? More?

    Favorite ones are a few. Even some of the losses were good enough to cherish or recall with nostalgia. Some are about family, or friends, or both. 

    1987. Indiana over Michigan at home, Memorial Stadium. 14-10.

    Bill Mallory and the plucky Hoosiers beat Schembechler on a rainy day. Robert and I met his dad at half time. Amazing,

    1998. Indiana over Iowa at home, Memorial Stadium. 14-12? Antwaan Randle El rallied the Hoosiers to a close win. The guy was magic.

    2001. BYU over UNLV at the Silver Dome in Las Vegas. 28 to 24? Cougars hit a huge fourth and 18 with a minute to go. Then a longer touch down to go ahead. I high fived some random fans near the end zone. A dude sort of assaulted me. My brother-in-law led me away from danger.

    There are quite a few more. Some were losses for my teams, but still good.

    At Maryland, at Rutgers, at UMass, at Gillette Stadium. At the Redskin complex, at Morgantown, and on.

    San Diego, Provo, Utah. Stanford. The Rose Bowl.

    Maybe some day there will be more.

Nationals Showed Promise but Relievers Achieve Poor Majors Record

 Nationals Showed Promise but Relievers Achieve Poor Majors Record

2026. The Nats had some spunk. Until the end of July, they were playing .500 ball. Despite, even though, the relief pitching was blowing a lot of games. They have slid as a team since August; Wood got hurt. But the non-starters kept giving up leads.

Now they have broken the all time major league record for lost, or blown saves.

37, 38 leads lost?

Disappointing.

We get some closers next year, maybe they go to the playoffs?

See you next year Nats fans.

For now, Go White Sox.

A little of my world.

Sorry my daughter. Baseball can be a thing.

I Spoke to the Father of an Apostle of Jesus on Sunday - Good Times

I Spoke to the Father of an Apostle of Jesus Sunday - Good Times

    My church has modern day apostles. 15 of them. They are from the United States, and now from Germany, Brazil, England. And France? We are becoming more international. The original apostles selected by Jesus were fishermen and a tax collector. They were of the tribe of Judah and practiced Judaism.

    My church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, has these apostles ordained and appointed, but so do some others. Like, the ones that I have communicated with, members and leaders of the Church of Christ at the Temple Lot. They are based in Indenpendence, Missouri. Religions of all faiths have their faith and membership, believers and followers across places and ages.

    The Roman Catholics have usually had the most. The Eastern Orthodox are second, normally, with maybe Baptists or Evangelicals (writ large) are huge across the world. There are both kinds, with denominations and sects of each dividing and sub-dividing. As Christians and most religions are wont to do.

    I spoke almost twenty minutes with the father of one of the current nine apsotles of the church. He is 80 years old. His name is Bob Oldham, I think. He knew the apostle that I spoke with back in 1997. He said his name was Bill Sheldon. He has since passed, but his kids of ages 80, 78, and 74 are still around.

    I was curious if the church may have shrunk since 1997, but according to Bob, secretary of the Church of Christ, they have grown. Perhaps smaller footprint in the United States, and Missouri, their base, but they have expanded in Africa, the Phillpines, and the Yucatan in Mexico.

    They do still believe in the Book of Mormon, so people are receiving the message of the latter day restoration. 

 

    There is no--lost my train of thought. 

    Thousands or millions, or even billions, the numbers do not determine the veracity of the message, the truthfulness of the faith and beliefs.

    Who believes that the American born guy from Chicago, Robert Francis Prevost , Pope Leo the XIV. The first Leo, or next Leo, since him? Italian, named Gioacchino Vincenzo Raffaele Luigi Pecci, who was Pope from 1878 to 1903.

    There. The Lord's anointed.

    There you have it.

    Blog on.

 Labor Day 2026 - Thoughts and Expositions

    Some of us are blessed on this holiday, celebrating the worker who labors.

    We are lucky to be paid on a day of celebration as a national holiday.

    Some people still have to work. Some do not work and are not paid.

    What is fair?