The One Where He Jumped the Gun

Last night I was doing dishes and wiping counters (I know... right??? *wink*), and DK said, Cupcake, you need to stop what you’re doing, wash your hands and come sit and relax for five minutes. I told him I needed to finish first, and he said, no, you need to come now. I could tell there was some surprise arriving… and sure enough, I turned around, and there was Tyler! Home for the weekend, and today is his 22nd birthday! (photo is of Tyler and Josh at about 2 and 3 years old)

…which gives me the perfect opportunity to tell one of my favorite Tyler stories. Eight years ago, DK and all the kids participated in the Florence Griffith Joyner Memorial 5k, at Saddleback Hospital in Laguna Hills. It was probably about the third year in a row that it had been the early-morning kick-off of our Memorial Day. 3,000 participants warmed up in the parking lot of the Laguna Hills Mall at about 6:15 a.m., and I was trying to keep an eye on four-year-old Cambria and still see the beginning of the race. As soon as the gun went off, Cambria and I jumped in the car and drove to the finish so that we could cheer for each of them as they ran the final quarter-mile.

Josh came in at around seventeen minutes. He was on varsity cross country, and he was pretty competitive. Next DK rolled in at right around 20:00. Not bad for a dad. He and Josh were pretty pleased with their times…although I had to be honest and tell them that they were both beat by Old Guy Who Runs Barefoot and Boy With No Legs. (no shame in that…those guys are FAST). Then Casey crossed the finish. Ethan. Dillon. The minutes rolled on. Thirty minutes had passed, and Tyler still hadn’t finished the race. I was beginning to worry. He was 14 years old, and despite his tendency to take it pretty easy, he should have finished much earlier.

There were many familiar faces in the crowd…friends and neighbors who had also run in the race, and we began to ask around to find out if anyone had seen him. No one had since before the race. It had now been an hour, and during that next little while, we noticed a new set of finishers crossing the line…for the Half Marathon. You don’t suppose…that Tyler ran in the Half Marathon instead of the 5k? Merlin Corbin, one of our friends from church finished the Half Marathon, and we asked him if he had seen Tyler. Yes! He had seen him at about Mile 5. WHAT???

We found out later that the Half Marathon had started 15 minutes before the 5k, and when the gun went off for that earlier race, Tyler couldn’t see his dad or brothers…but people were running, so he took off with them. At that point we had to wonder, what was Tyler doing? There were policemen and race volunteers all along the route who could have brought him to the finish so that he didn’t have to continue, once he had realized his error. Would he run the whole thirteen miles? Josh was so excited that he began to run back through the course from the finish to find Tyler…which he did, about a mile out. Tyler was much less excited than Josh, as the race had been a lot more than he bargained for. He did, however, finish third in his age group, and after he had recovered somewhat, enjoyed a pancake breakfast with the family.



Once his sense of humor had returned, we asked him: Tyler, at what point did you realize you weren’t in the 5k? He replied, I don’t know…I guess about Mile 9?



Happy birthday, Tyler!

The One With the Grass...in the Glove Box?

So this is me Tyler. Second oldest son, student at BYU. My mom told me to do a guest post today. I am going to tell you what happened to me yesterday. I swear to you I still can’t believe this actually happened. Yesterday morning I woke up and packed my things in my car and parked at Josh and Jessi’s house. I was driving a friend’s car to California for her, so I put my weekend’s worth of clothes into that car and headed out. Driving out of Provo a little later than I had wanted to…Don’t tell Mom, but I started to speed a little, wanting to get home faster. I saw a police officer and slowed down to avoid a ticket. I was speeding back up again, when a second police officer noticed me before I noticed him. He pulled me over.

I was a little nervous that I was driving a friends car, and so the names on the registration and the insurance were not mine. I opened the glove box to retrieve the registration, when a small mason jar fell out of the glove box just as the officer approached the passenger side of the vehicle. I thought to myself that it was a funny place to keep whatever nasty food was in the jar. It looked like some funky rotting substance. The police officer asked what was in the jar. I told him that I didn’t know, and he picked up the jar and opened it. He asked again: you don’t know what this is? At this point I am starting to know what is in the jar, and I realize… I. Am. In. Trouble. I told him that it was not my car and not my jar of whatever it was. He had me get out of the car and get into the front seat of his Highway Patrol car.

He informed me that I was in his custody even though I was not under arrest…yet. He read me my rights and then asked if I wanted to waive my rights and talk to him. I agreed. Have you ever smoked marijuana? No, Sir. (two years as a missionary in Texas has left me unfailingly polite and respectful…not a bad thing in this situation). When was the last time that you smoked marijuana? Never, Sir. I didn’t suppose that it would help to try explaining that I had never tasted alcohol, never smoked a cigarette...never tried drugs of any kind. Ever. I would be asked this question repeatedly over the next three hours. My response, and theirs, was always the same: Never? Really?! (the tone disbelieving, bordering on sarcastic). Probably as a result of the constant praying I was doing, I stayed calm the whole time, realizing that freaking out would not help my case.

Apparently, what I had unearthed in the glove box was marijuana, dry roasted in a fire, meaning that it had already been smoked somewhat. (The police officer explained that that meant it was probably not worth saving…it was really only good for getting me arrested). I was not happy that my first time seeing weed was when it was technically in my possession, and I was sitting in a police car. Okay, so I have never ever wanted to see weed, but still…

Officer Friendly and I made some calls on my phone and he was talking to everyone he could find to see if the stash was mine. During this time, we also stepped outside the car to do some routine tests. Following his finger with my eyes as he watched my reaction time. Counting with my eyes closed, head back. Thank goodness they didn’t make me say the alphabet backwards…I have never been able to do that. My phone rang. It was friends, with more info on the real owner of the hash. Back to the car; no more tests. He talked a while and made more calls. After some lengthy conversations he was done with my phone and asked me if I thought he was working hard enough. Yes, sir. (I could tell he was trying to save my butt.)

Then he searched the car for more paraphernalia. More officers arrived and questioned me. (You guessed it…) SO, when was the last time you smoked marijuana… same answer… same “Really?!” I overheard from their conversation that the first officer was impressed with my tests and answers, and that he was sure I was telling the truth. Search finished and they found nothing.

They asked me to put all of the boxes from the car back inside and the sit in the car again as the officers talked. Although I had been praying pretty much nonstop for the past couple of hours, now was the time to pray out loud. One car drove away and I was called to the first car again on the loudspeaker. Officer K. (the first officer) explained that he would be calling his superior to discuss what he should do and if I would be set free. That, and the realization that Officer K. looked a lot like Steve Martin, were helping me to relax a little.

I went back to my car and watched as he spoke to his superior. Lots of hand motions and I even could tell when he was explaining the jar to his superior. He finished and came to the passenger side window. He told me that I would be getting my speeding ticket and that he had lowered it for me. And then the miracle. I was free to go. BUT, he wanted to know if I was a Chris Rock Fan. I said, um...sure? He said I needed to go and watch “How to not get your ‘butt’ kicked by the police.” Obedient as I am, I just watched it. Lots of foul language, but it rang true. Rules to live by: Before you borrow a friend’s car, make sure they don’t have any outstanding warrants against them. Check the trunk for dead bodies. Search the car for weapons, drugs and stolen goods. Although, after watching the video clip, I see that I had at least one thing going for me: I didn’t have an angry woman in the car with me, pointing at me and screaming at the police officer, “He got weed! He got weed!”

See? There’s always an up-side.

I drove away still stressed out, and only got as far as the next rest stop…I was done. I almost just gave up and drove back to Provo. But I played my guitar for awhile. Got a soda. Called my parents. And then got back on the road…a little under the speed limit this time.

Please note that neither Tyler, nor his friend who owns the car, do drugs. But his friend will be very much more careful to whom she loans her car in the future...

The One With All the Entropy (My 100th Post!)

I have been studying this concept of entropy. I am going to apologize in advance for my simplistic approach to the subject. If you have a scientific brain, you might want to just stop reading right now. Entropy is a central concept in thermodynamics. As such, it is the measure of disorder in a closed, but changing system. But as a sort of basic principle, entropy might be described as the process by which everything naturally unmakes itself. It is how, left to the natural order of things, household… personal appearance… financial stability…all will eventually devolve into chaos and disrepair. Do you see how fundamental entropy is? It is why you can’t have your house all clean at one time. It is why you can’t leave five-year-olds without a babysitter. It all starts to fall apart.

Some of my very favorite books are the Alvin Maker series by Orson Scott Card. The basic premise is that the Unmaker is constantly at work trying to tear down and cause darkness and destruction until, in true Good vs. Evil form, Alvin is born…the seventh son of a seventh son…with the power to Make. To create. To fight the evil Unmaker. Yes, the books ooze symbolism. And as with all my favorite books, I love the characters like they are my own best friends. But it is this concept of making versus unmaking that really appeals to me. I realize that my entire world is subject to entropy, and it is my job to fight it. Make. Create. Clean. Repent. Repair. Learn. Forgive. Serve others. All these things fight entropy.

On that subject, Tyler is coming home for five days! He is my household version of Alvin. He is Handy. I love handy men. Is it wrong that I have a whole list of things that Tyler is going to help me do while he is home? Come on…we’re just fighting entropy, here. What about you? Are you a positive force, or are you sitting back and letting entropy have its way? If it is the latter, you should at least drag your feet a little on the way down... And on that note, I am going to go fight in my kitchen for a little while.