HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BIG EYES!

Amanda Noelle is our fourth child, born on this day in 1977, during my second semester in law school. My last exam for the semester was in Constitutional Law, taught by Dean Rex Lee, and it was given on December 12th. I had been anxious that the baby would be born before I finished my difficult exams, but Big Eyes was kind to accommodate me. Her angel mother would have preferred an earlier birth. We had gone to Stake Conference in the venerable Provo Tabernacle on November 28th, where Elder J. Thomas Fyans of the First Quorum of the Seventy spoke, and poor Candy was very, very uncomfortable. She had taken off her shoes and later found it to be impossible to put them back on, because her feet had swollen. Before we left, she started shaking. We were relieved to get her back home. The last two months of that pregnancy were very uncomfortable for her. I wrote in my journal: "What a happy day it will be when this baby arrives! It will be like Resurrection Day to Candy!" On the day after my exams were finished, I wrote: "Candy has not yet had the baby, and she is afraid that it will never come and that she'll be pregnant forever." She was having painful contractions, but they were irregular and never any closer than 8 minutes apart. She was in tears several times because of the indefiniteness of those contractions. Finally, it happened. On December 14th at 3:10 PM, Big Eyes was born at Utah Valley Hospital in Provo, Utah. I witnessed the entire miracle with my own eyes. I will never forget how the mother and baby looked into each others' eyes when the nurse brought the baby to her for the first time after the birth. Mandy's large eyes were wide open. There was a holy communication between the two that was remarkable and beautiful to behold. It was recognition from an earlier time and place. I gave her the nickname Big Eyes at that moment. Happy Birthday, Big Eyes! I send you my blessings and thank you for coming into our family. May our Heavenly Father always watch over you and grant you the worthy desires of your heart. The old dad loves you and will love you forever, no matter what. Here are a few pictures for your viewing pleasure.

CASH YOU CAN COUNT ON!

Ending weeks of speculation, Saint Holiday held a press conference today to announce his candidacy for the 2012 presidential race. Sporting a snazzy Elvis wig to cover his baldness and to hide the gruesome scar, evidencing his recent, radical brain surgery, the holy man assumed a senior level position atop his famous Chicken Catchatorium, the coop de grace, to make his stunning announcement. "I'd first like to thank me muddah and me faddah, " he began, reading from prepared remarks written on a Southwest Airlines vomit bag. At the sound of his voice, the crowd of media representatives wept openly. Sitting in full lotus, like the incarnation of Vishnu himself, the master explained that he has no plans to slow down, despite feeling "like a cookie crushed to crumbs." His words were like an electric kundalini to every soul present. "Now that I have only half a brain, I feel qualified to serve in public office. Obama has offered only change to the American public. I offer them cash, cash they can count on!"

The saintly one glowed, as he did in his pre-digital days. He described the fundamental elements of his platform, the first of which was employed effectively during the Mosaic administration, forgiveness of all debt! He read from the fifteenth chapter of Deuteronomy: "At the end of every seven years thou shalt make a release. And this is the manner of the release: Every creditor that lendeth ought unto his neighbour shall release it; he shall not exact it of his neighbour, or of his brother; because it is called the Lord's release." Saint Holiday promised that he would cancel all personal and institutional debt for every American during his first week in office, employing the divinely-inspired program defined in the Bible. "Every debt, whether in the character of a mortgage, promissory note, credit card debt or any other, shall be declared null and void. No one will owe anyone anything!"

Faster than three Mississippi's, the holy man presented the second plank of his platform: "A check in every pot!" He explained, "During the first 100 days of my presidency, I will direct the US Treasury to issue a check for one million dollars to every household in America earning less than $200,000.00 per year. This money will be backed by the value of all land owned by the federal government. There will be no poverty in this nation during my administration!"

It was impossible to control the enthusiasm of the crowd, gathered around the saintly candidate, after they heard him give his historic speech. Now that his supply of cerebral cells is down to manageable size, he appears more fit than ever to take the helm of this great nation. For a moment, Saint Holiday almost slipped and engaged in critical thought, but he caught himself in the knock of time and excused himself to return to the sanctuary of his Show Low residence to huddle with his political advisers. In a few weeks, he intends to begin his national campaign from the comfort of his personal blimp, hovering over crowds to deliver his exciting speeches and to fight against egregious collocations of vocables, wherever these are spewed.

In a related matter, Saint Holiday's spokesperson confirmed that the holy one did indeed have a mezuzah implanted in the forefront of his skull during his recent surgery. He would be pleased if his followers would kiss or touch him gently upon the forehead as opportunities for such sacred intimacy present themselves.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ABIDOO!

My precious daughter, Abigail Ann, was born on November 12, 1982, during a time of great trial for my family. She proved to be a joy during that difficult time. I remember well the comfort she brought me when I held her in my arms after my hard days. There's nothing like a soft baby to ease a man's tension and help him forget the harsh trials of time. She was our seventh child, our good luck baby. And she has had good fortune. Early in 1983, her mother fell down the hard wooden steps of our home in Merchantville, while carrying little Abby. Momma broke her foot, but Abby was not injured in any way. Heavenly Father has held His protective hand over our Abby all throughout her life. She knows this is true. I love my Abigail! She is entwined around my heart like a morning glory vine. She has brought me so much happiness. I continually pray that the best of Heaven's blessings may come to her in her marriage and motherhood. I believe she has a glorious destiny.
Happy Birthday, Abidoo! I'll love you forever.

December 1982

1983


1989

May 1986, Take One

Take Two

SCIENTISTS COAX BRAIN CELLS OF ST. HOLIDAY TO REGENERATE!

St. Holiday, a briefly-mentioned figure in anecdotal lore, in a footnote here and there, was as calm as a beanless casserole today following an experimental operation fraught with risk, performed by the clinical cooperative group of the White Mountain Brain Center. Tests have confirmed that he is still alive. His first words after the operation were, "Call me Fliptop." His wife, the Lovely One replied, "We may have to call you, Scooby Doofus." Long known to reject the blind application of standard solutions to personal difficulties, solutions such as suicide or euthanasia, the suffering soul opted for radical, invasive surgery to remove vast areas of necrotic tissue from both sides of his cerebral Partisan Divide. Sources report that when the top of his skull was removed for the debulking procedure, a cloud of dead brain cells, having the consistency of vacuum cleaner dust, caused a fit of sneezing among all present in the operating room. Oddly enough, what remained after the necrotic tidbits and itty-bitties were excised could not accurately be called "gray matter," for it had the multi-colored appearance of tutti-frutti icecream. The second part of the operation involved a revolutionary breakthrough in science. Surgeons sought to stimulate mitosis, or cell division and proliferation, by injecting an extract of cocoa into the Golgi apparati of his remaining brain cells. Only time will tell if the operation is successful. Now St. Holiday faces a long, hard struggle to recovery, as he has for the past fifty years.

The patient was awake throughout the operation and was able to carry on a conversation of sorts with the circling surgeons, nurses, media reps and members of the Obama Transition team. "I feel rattled," he said. "Someone Kevork me; I hurt," he mumbled. When asked if he would like an analgesic for the pain, St. Holiday replied, "No, that part of me is fine. Do you have a headogesic?"

A sort of minor figure among Show Low's Holy Illuminati, St. Holiday, whose very voice in days long past could make a preacher cry, confess and check into rehab, had noticed a diminishment of all his geek signifiers ever since his days as a Cold War superspy (code name: Deep Thought) and his debut in the national tabloids. Many have mentioned that every time he speaks, something ordinary comes out of his mouth, something mundane and unremarkable.

Upon seeing him for the first time, laid out on the operating table, a nurse said, "I can't believe how powerful he looks in person!" One of his surgeons replied, "Except for his body and soul, he is just like you and me." "Doesn't he look natural!" another said. "With his head shaved like that and his tongue hanging out, he kinda looks like a capital Q," added the saintly one's wife, who has a fondness for surgical procedures and insisted upon being in the operating room during the entire 16-hour operation. As a nurse shaved his head in preparation for the craniotomy, St. Holiday amused her and onlookers by singing a jingle from the '50's, made famous by Fearless Fosdick himself, "Wildroot Cream-Oil, Charlie!" This was followed by his stirring rendition of another old jingle, "Bryl-Cream, a little dab will do ya. She'll love to run her fingers through your hair."

Prior to the operation, St. Holiday put in brutal 8-hour shifts at his tee-shirt factory, The Bustin' T Party, and struggled to find energy for his quirky adaptation of the play "Death Takes a Holiday." When the Spirit moved him, he spent time playing rap records backwards, listening for cloaked messages from the angels. If the operation proves to be a success, we might hope that the holy man will recommence his retreat from private life and continue to make his small contribution to society by varnishing harsh truths for the sake of his posterity and his adoring disciples. It is also to be hoped that the surgery will influence his sins of humor.

St. Holiday's children tried to talk him out of the risky surgery, saying, "Dad, you're just doing this for your insanity defense. Besides, you haven't made your will yet or chosen your taxidermist." Despite his children's preference for cryogenic taxidermy, St. Holiday often speaks of his desired interment at Coopertown Burying Ground, where many of his ancestors are awaiting the morning of the First Resurrection. Now it appears that his burial will be accomplished on an installment plan, inasmuch as his excised dead brain cells and a canister of dead skin cells from a Kirby Vacuum Cleaner demonstration on his own bed were collected and mixed together for early burial at his Coopertown plot. A special graveside service is planned for the event, with Tina Turner singing, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot."

As a sidenote, St. Holiday has named his new dog, Bark Obama, in honor of the victor in the Nation's presidential campaign. There is hope that the pup icon will become the first dog on the moon, a true lunar rover.