See John write

Dear Winter,

I hereby give up. You win. You’ve proved you’re tougher than I am. You’re more intimidating and cruel than me. You’ve chilled me, frightened me, disoriented me, enraged me, knocked me on my butt, and made me cry.

But this morning—this morning—you broke me.

I have nothing left.

I don’t remember what summer feels like.

I can’t deal with one more snow-snarled commute.

So, Winter, take what you want. You have conquered. Take your spoils. Flaunt your victory.

AND THEN GET THE @!*# OUT OF HERE.

OK, so I’m opening this up to the readers of the blog to submit ideas for new stories.

What genre do you like?

What kind of characters?

Do you have a great opening line?

When I read in the paper (before the game) all the quotes from the players about how they were aware of BYU’s history of poor showings in the NCAA tournament, I knew they were in trouble. It’s tough enough in the win-or-go-home format to just lace up the sneakers and beat the team in front of you. (Ask Duke about that one.) But when a team feels like they’re carrying the weight of 15 years of futility, there’s no way they can play the way they need to.

The Cougars started tight. They struggled to run anything that resembled their offense and they looked scared on defense.

They did settle down. But only after falling behind 11 to 0. Yuck.

So that’s reason number 1. Next year, let’s not remind the Cougars about all the past failures. Let’s let them just go out and play. For brief glimpses last night, you could see how great this team is  when they just relax and play their game.

But for most of the game they seemed lost.

Everyone who read anything about the game beforehand knew that one of Texas A&M’s keys to success is offensive rebounds. But time and again when the situation was most critical, the Cougars failed to remember to box out and fight for rebounds.

Speaking of fighting, the Aggies are a big, physical team that literally pushed the Cougars around. The refs were letting it go and the Cougars never adjusted, never responded with physical play of their own. (See photo.) This was a scrappy, backyard game and the Cougars seemed to want no part of it.

Then there was the free throw line. The team was 7-14 for a measly 50%. Just make three more of those and the end of the game is a whole different scenario.

One of the things that made this Cougar team a good team was the way they shared the ball. They were always  willing to pass up a good shot for a better shot. It has made them tough to defend. However, I have to say that in a tight spot like the NCAA tournament, you have to make sure your best players are taking more of the shots. Lee Cummard, the conference player of the year, was 5-9 with 14 points. While true freshmen, Jimmer Fredette and Chris Collinsworth and sophomore Chris Miles were a combined 6 for 17. At least seven of those shots should have been Cummard’s. There are other discrepancies, but suffice it to say, the Cougars have got to learn how to lean on their best players a little more when it’s crunch time.

Well that’s it. I hate waiting for next year! These last two Cougar teams have been too good not to have had some success in the tournament. It’s just a shame.

I recently discovered that I’ve totally messed up my classes in my MBA program which means that now the earliest I could possibly graduate is October of 2009 which isn’t really that far away when you look at the big scheme of things but when I had in my head that early August of 2009 would be my graduation, and honestly, August is summer and in March the weather is supposed to turn warm and warm weather means that summer is coming so I was getting really close to only one more year of school—but no, now it’s pushed out even farther and even though we’re talking about taking one more class beyond when I though I would be done, it just feels sooooooo much longer … kind of like this sentence.

So I’m trying to focus on other issues, like how will my BYU Cougars do in the big dance, or how soon we might be able to go skiing, or what do I need to do to get ready for our pioneer trek this summer.

And I’m really ready to reintroduce myself to 80 degrees. You know, “Hey, do I know you? Yeah, I thought we’d met before. It’s been a looooong time. Good to see you again. You look GOOD! And you know what, I’ve really really missed you!”

I’ve got to get back to work. Thanks for stopping by.

I remember a Friday about this time of year when I was a Sophomore in high school. I piled a bunch of my friends into my little tan Datsun 210. We were dressed in our school colors and so pumped we could hardly contain ourselves.
Our basketball team had reached the quarter-finals of the state tournament. I seemed to always be the designated driver for these kinds of adventures. So I told all my buddies I could drive us up to the Huntsman Center to watch the game.

I remember feeling a strange sense of adulthood when I was able to drive right to the arena even though I was very unfamiliar with the U campus.

I remember the energy that seemed to spark and crackle from person to person as we excitedly made our way from the gates to our seats.
I remember how fun it was to cheer our friends and classmates on.

I have a distinct image in my mind of Russ Daily sinking two free throws with the game on the line in the waning seconds to seal the win.

We did stupid high school things like blasting the horn and shouting out the windows as we drove down the hill.

I would never want to go back and do high school all over again. But for me, there are a few moments like this one that seemed magical.

Do you have a favorite Friday memory?

As my Easter gift to you, I offer one of the most powerful songs about the way the Lord’s grace frees us from our own “wretched” selves.

Here’s a link where you can download the BYU Men’s Chorus performance.

Here are the lyrics:

I Love the Lord
I love the Lord, in Him my soul delights.
Upon His word, I ponder day and night.
He’s heard my cry, brought visions to my sleep,
And kept me safe o’er deserts and the deep.
He’s filled my heart with His consuming love,
And borne me high on wings of His great dove.

Yet oft I groan, “O wretched man am I”
My flesh is weak and I’m encompassed by
A world of sin, which holds me in it’s thrall,
If I give in and to temptations fall.
Then strength grows slack, I waste in sorrow’s vale;
My peace destroyed, my enemies prevail.

Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin.
Rejoice, my heart! And let me praise again,
The Lord my God, who is my rock and stay
To keep me strict upon His straight, plain way.
Oh let me shake at the first sight of sin
And thus escape my foes without and in.

Step #8

10. Pretending not to care

As things started to go bad, after so much of my neglect, Jenny began to change. She made new friends, friends I didn’t know. I’d come home and she wouldn’t be there. She would stay out late. She wouldn’t call.

I tried to tell myself it was good. I remember thinking, Maybe she won’t be so needy. … So needy. I had lied to myself. I needed Jenny then. I needed to open my stupid mouth. I needed to show her that the distance between us was killing me. I needed to be jealous, to show everything I was feeling, to be real.

But I didn’t.

Everything I did was a lie. Though the words never came out of my mouth, I said plain and clear. “I don’t care.”

Of all the things I’d done, this was my greatest regret.

I set the pen down and looked at my yellow note pad. The clarity stared me back in the face. I had never laid a hand on Jenny. Not once had I been violent or abusive. But the image of me strangling the life out of our relationship was as real as any moment of my life. I had choked it until it was lifeless, until there was nothing left.

The emptiness of our apartment haunted me. I couldn’t even bring myself to turn on the TV or music. Everything felt lifeless without Jenny.

I fell asleep on the couch with all the lights on.

~~~~~~

When I woke, I realized it was Sunday.

I checked the clock. 8:30 a.m. I knew I needed to clear my head. Awkwardly pushing myself up off the couch, I stretched my arms up over my head. My back was stiff from sleeping on the couch.

As I headed down the hallway, I thought about climbing in a hot shower. But I couldn’t take the silence of the apartment anymore. I went to my closet and pulled out my running shoes.

Ten minutes later, I was on the street. Fifteen minutes later I had a good sweat going. I hadn’t slept well for days. It had been two weeks now since she left. I had tried to call her parents house, to see if they knew where she was. But they said Jenny had asked them not to interfere.

I didn’t know what I could say to her. But I just couldn’t imagine that it was really all over. That it had ended with her simply saying she couldn’t stay with me any more.

I turned on 7th avenue and dodged the delivery guy unloading a bundle of newspapers.

My pace began to slow. It was as if I was carrying a dead elephant on my shoulders. I tried to push through it. I needed to begin thinking clearly. What was I going to do? I couldn’t just go on forever like this. I slowed to a walk. I was having trouble breathing. I gasped for air, bending forward and resting my hands on my knees.

Breathe in, I told myself. Breathe out. In. Out. In.

Then it happened. I smelled the little German bakery. I spun around and there it was. I was at the corner of 7th and Poplar. It was almost more than I could take. It was Sunday morning and I had ended up at our favorite Sunday breakfast place.

My eyes were stinging and I felt for a moment like the whole universe was working against me.

I turned away and headed across the street. I needed to go somewhere—anywhere—else.

But when I heard the little bell on the bakery door ring, I turned.

There standing in the doorway was Jenny. She was holding a small white paper bag in her hand.

At first, I looked away. It had to be my imagination. I glanced back. Jenny tipped her head to the side. Her eyes looked swollen and tired, but she smiled.

I felt frozen.

“Hi,” Jenny called out across the nearly empty street.

“Hi,” I answered as I hesitantly started across the street.

“I was really hoping you’d come by this way,” she said as she held up the little bag. “I got your favorite.”

“You did?” I said as I reached the sidewalk.

Jenny nodded and my heart began to race.

“You remembered?”

“I’ve remembered a lot of things … a lot of things.”

I strode up to her and threw my arms around her. She threw her arms around me too.

For a moment, I was afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell. But then I thought about my list. I had let too many moments pass when I let silence speak for me. I leaned back and looked into Jenny’s beautiful eyes.

“I was so afraid that I’d never get a chance to show you. I should never have let anything come between us. I’ve been so lost, so stupid. You are everything to me. I will never let you doubt—”

Jenny gently raised her hand to my lips. She spoke softly. “I couldn’t get out of my head the look on your face when you pulled out those aquarium tickets. And I woke up this morning with the most intense craving for German pastries.”

“I do love a good German pastry,” I said with a smile.

Jenny leaned into me and her lips met mine. I slipped my hand up into her long dark hair and she pulled me tighter.

We were interrupted by the sound of the little bell on the bakery door. Embarrassed, we looked up to see a white-haired woman trying to exit the shop.

“Sorry,” I said as we stepped to the side.

“My goodness,” the old woman said with a huff as she rushed by.

Jenny and I looked at each other and laughed.

My tears stung on my cheeks as I wiped them away with the back of my hand. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. Sitting beside me in the pew was Reverend Spagnoli. He placed a strong hand on my shoulder and we sat for a moment in the silence of the empty chapel.

“Do you know where she went?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “I asked … all she would say is that she couldn’t stay with me.”

“I wish I could do something to help,” the Reverend said gently.

“You did, Reverend. You did help,” I said.

“If this is how I help …”

I leaned back and looked at his face. “You changed the way I saw the whole situation. It was getting better. What has happened now was my own fault.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Brian.” The Reverend’s voice was firm. “In the end, it was Jenny’s choice to leave.”

“But I should have told her right when it happened …”

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But maybe she would have left then. Maybe you wouldn’t have had this one night, this one connection.”

“It was an aberration—it was gone in an instant. And now she’s gone.”

“I understand why you feel that way. But, Brian, you can’t give up all hope.” Reverend Spagnoli put his arm around my shoulders. “There are no accidents. Everything happens for a reason.”

I wanted to believe and understand. But it was so hard to see any light in this darkness.

“When I can’t see the reason, I just hold onto hope. Sometimes, it’s all we have.”

~~~~~~

I walked into the empty apartment. It felt like a funeral parlor and all I wanted to do was turn around and leave.

As I hesitated in the hallway, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. It was William Graham.

I pressed the button. “Mr. Graham,” I said.

“Brian, how are you?”

“I’m OK,” I lied.

“Listen, I heard about your father. Is he doing alright?”

I was stunned. “Yeah, yeah, he’s doing much better.”

“That’s good to hear. Now, tell me how’s your job search going?”

“Frankly, with the whole thing with my dad … well, I’ve barely started,” I stammered.

“Brian, I want you to call my friend Charles Burch. His firm is small, but they’re growing.”

I love when I stumble on a new quote that makes me think. Here’s one I ran across today.

“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” - Vincent van Gogh

I think this might make it into my Wisdom and Wisecracks page. But I wonder what it says to you. So tell me.