Why poetry?

It was a combination of the poetry anthology “Good Poems” (made me like poetry) and Dr Newell’s creative writing class which forced me to write my first poem.  He wrote things with exclamation marks next to the poems I turned in, which made me feel all special inside.

Sooo, anyway, download a copy for free or buy a paperback.  Either way, leave a good review (lie if you have to).

Hidden Meaning of Current UVU Logo:

If that isn’t amazing enough, the second U creates the shape of Colorado, where UVU hopes to relocate one day.

After my post, to my astonishment, the president of UVU (Lester Tessy Higgenbothom) got in contact with me.

He said to me, “Dallin, help me restore the reflexive property to the UVU logo.”

I told him, “Tess, not only does the logo need reflection, it needs spirit.  It needs fury.  It needs the face of true-blue loyalty.  It may even need a new name.”

The New UVU Logo:

What in-the-name-of-all-that’s-holy is that little serif doing on that first U?  If it has meaning it’s occult, and nobody I’ve talked to “gets” it.  If it doesn’t mean anything, this is designer sabotage. Why didn’t they commit the same crime to the other U?  At least then we could understand it was your impaired stylistic choice.

Could someone please tell me the magical meaning of that disgusting knob?  If there’s not one, UVU students and faculty should form a mob, apprehend the guilty designer, and beat him with his own keyboard and mouse.

Besides all that I was slowly starving to death. There was a mission rule that you could only buy food one day a week; a rule I realize now probably granted an exception for starvation. But the one bit of advice you constantly hear for 19 years before you leave on a mission is, “Obey the rules!” On that one day a week I would go to the markets and buy expensive and delicious food: yogurt, cookies, guarana, and a wide assortment of Brazilian fruits. That day, and part of the next, I would feast like a king. But it took me a while to realize why the more experienced Elders put nothing edible in the communal fridge, because it was a free-for-all. The rest of the week I was forced to ration what little bread I bought.

That’s why I wanted a truck to hit me that day. I was exhausted, in every form and variety of exhaustion. I could only think about food. Add to that the fact that September 11^th was only a few months ago, and my Christmas was hot and lonely.  Suddenly, a drunk driver actually slammed into my companion’s left arm and sent his scripture case flying into the air. I watched the car in slow motion as it plowed into the group of people walking in front of us, scattering them over his windshield. I recall a woman who took the brunt of the hit appearing like a rag-doll, spinning and whirling in the air until she crashed on the pavement.

That next morning was the lowest point in my life up to then. My grandpa taught me from many summers on his ranch to work hard and never complain. Nobody knew what I was suffering. But I still got up early, studied and prayed, ate a quick breakfast, dressed in my white shirt and tie, and sat on the bench next to the door to put my shoes on. As I slipped on the black shoe I felt something substantial within. I took it off and found a piece of chocolate. It was cube shaped and wrapped in gold foil   That random act of kindness was like a steroid shot of happiness. There was no exhaustion or hunger that day because all I could think about was how nice and thoughtful someone must have been to place a piece of chocolate in my shoe. It was an answer to my prayers and motivation in sugar form. Some would argue that charity – giving something that is unearned – isn’t a good idea. But something as inconsequential and unsubstantial as a small piece of chocolate completely changing my life for ever is evidence enough to the positive results of charity.

New Years Day was that week, and my New Year’s resolution was to do a random act of kindness every day. It was one of the few New Year’s resolutions I actually followed through on. I recorded most of them every day on a calendar which I still have today. I thought if that small piece of chocolate could brighten my life as it did, then I was going to share it with others. I would leave chocolates in shoes, cookie packages under couch cushions, and candies under the newspaper. I like to think of that year long accomplishment as what will be the deciding factor as to whether I am admitted into heaven or not. The actual cube I found in my shoe on that morning I placed atop a stack of books on my desk, so that every day it could remind me to pass charity on to others.

Many months later I was doing ‘splits’ with a young man in the ward. My companion and his temporary volunteer were lucky enough to be in the area of our lunch appointment, so we had to eat in our apartment. While he began boiling water for some Top Ramen, I rested at my desk. Very hungry, I looked over at my trophy. My mouth watered. Whatever rationalization my mind conjured up, it wasn’t stronger than my stomach. I unwrapped it quickly and popped it into my mouth. I took a bite, made a bitter face, and spit it onto the table. It tasted like rotten and concentrated salt. It was brown like chocolate, but smelled like beef stew. Upon further examination I realized it was a cube of beef bullion. It then hit me that the stash of bullion cubes in Staff House was in a cupboard directly over the shoes. Most likely, someone had accidentally knocked it out of the cupboard and into my shoe. That whole year, that major turning point in my mission and life, was all due to a random accident.

Either God directed it in my shoe, or he was laughing when I began distributing chocolate like The Santa Wonka. Even so, the fact that an act (or accident) so small and easy caused such a positive effect is reason enough to substantiate the idea of charity, and inspire its practice.