What Boy Summer

 My head is full of a lot of thoughts. I'm not sure that all of them will come through on this page, but they've driven me to distraction over the past couple of days. But first, some news...

The COVID-19 vaccines were remarkably effective, and their quick adoption led to a big drop-off in cases nationwide. It made the decision to travel to see family pretty easy. So, we surrendered to the basest of our impulses, Southwest Airlines.

Houston has managed to place some of their best BBQ in grocery stores. Hit up a local HEB and tell me I'm wrong.

No sooner do we arrive in Houston than the famously robust Texas energy grid cries because it got a little hotter than usual. The house remained nearly cold during this ordeal as the governor probably went outside and blew on a turbine to keep the lights on.

No Texas trip is complete without a pilgrimage to the holiest of all taco joints.

Boy howdy what a ride Jesus and John Wayne is. Highly recommend if you want to understand how the evangelical right has come to dominate Republican and frankly, most of American religious culture, LDS not excluded. It will surprise, entertain, and somewhat horrify you. Well...maybe you're not horrified if it all sounds good to you, but it sure doesn't to me.

Alison and the kids stayed on in Houston another week while I had to return to work night shifts. I took the LAX Flyaway Bus, and even though the whole trip is a bit longer than a typical LAX trek, I very much enjoyed not having to be a slave to the steering wheel.

The bus takes you to Union Station in downtown Los Angeles, where they hold your luggage hostage until you pay for your fare. It's kind of an odd setup, but it sorta works. I just used my TAP card, because I had to make one additional transfer on the Gold Line...er, "L" line to get home.

Yeah, it was hot. Hard to find anywhere outside of the beaches near Los Angeles where it isn't hot in the summer. But the 10 minute walk home from the APU station isn't so bad.

I kinda didn't want to go to church alone, but Alison told me I "had" to because it was Father's Day.

Eventually everyone came home.

We took a car ride out to Tucson, this time opting to drive late into the night to arrive ahead of the 4th of July.

OK Boomer.

Kids with their favorite toys in the world...stuffed animals.

I hadn't been to the Naranja Park yet, and it's actually pretty nice, when it's not stinking hot.

Monsoons help with the heat though.

My parents have a new house, and a new view from its backyard.

Our usual place while the old house is getting packed up.

Returning home, we hit up my favorite sandwich place, Ike's. They apparently stole my 1st grade lunchbox and mounted it on the wall.

Then the library stole a book from my childhood.

Waiting for kids to catch up on a walk.

The biggest event of the summer was a triple-header. First, Haley was moving from Tucson to Athens, Georgia to attend graduate school. Second, Mom and Dad finally were moving from their old Oro Valley house to their new one just across from my siblings' high school. Third, Eric was undergoing heart surgery to remove blood clots from his lungs. All of this was taking place over not just a week, but a few days. I was but a supporting character in this trilogy.

First, I flew from LA to Tucson, a flight I don't think I've made but maybe once or twice before. Got a nice view of our supply chain challenges at Long Beach.

Finally saw Lake Elsinore.

Spotted the Queen of the Skies, still being operated by Lufthansa.

Guess the ride was too choppy into Runway 11, so we circled around to land at Runway 29, which took us over the airplane boneyard

I arrived the evening before the big move, so I helped move some odds and ends into the new house.

The big day arrived at last...the movers arrived just an hour or so before Haley and I were to leave. It was about as chaotic as it looked.

We needed gas, and this rinky-dink station in Toyah, TX was what we chose. For some reason, we had to drive over an unpaved road to get to it.

Sonic in Pecos couldn't even.

Charlie spent a fair amount of this trip trying to dodge falling items in the back seat.

First overnight stop was in Midland, TX.

Looking for something besides burgers, we ended up at a very white Mexican food chain drive through. It's better than Maria's in Glendora, but not by much.

Apparently I had a town in west Texas. Who knew?

Our second stop was in Allen. It had changed a lot since we had lived there. For instance, a massive park.

We stayed up way too late hanging out.

Eric entered the hospital the day we departed. His quality of life had been in severe decline; disruptive medication, difficulty breathing, and swelling legs were all effects of his condition. I blessed him and Krystal that they would make it through this surgery and come out better on the other side. As of my writing this, the surgery appears to have been successful and Eric is in the hospital recovering. The surgery was intense and he's in a fair amount of pain, but his recovery appears to be normal. Mom flew out to be with him after finishing the move, while Dad drove out with the remainder of Haley's things (we couldn't fit a whole lot in her Kia Soul).

We stopped by old haunts in Allen and Mesquite--was especially impressed that the Town East Mall was still standing. The rest stops in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia are much nicer than in the western states I've traveled in (TX, AZ, CA, UT). We drove under a landing B-52 near Barksdale.

We stopped overnight in Jackson, MS, picking up Mugshots burgers at Eric's recommendation. We got way too many fries.

The interstates in the Deep South feel like valleys cut into forest mountains. I don't remember much from our drive in Alabama, except for our lunch stop in Tuscaloosa and their nice rest stop. We ended up bypassing Birmingham itself, but got a nice view of the weirdly large Statue of Liberty replica outside the local BSA council.

There was not much to see in Georgia along I-20 until you hit Atlanta, except for this nice rest stop.

Haley and I rolled into Athens as the sun began to set. The road between Atlanta and Athens is awful rural.

We arrived the evening before her day-long orientation for her college. There were already some groups of students milling about the streets by UGA, although all of the local restaurants close around 8 PM. Only Mellow Mushroom was open to serve us dinner, which happened to be the workplace for one of her new roommates.

While Haley was doing a preview of class lectures (what a fun orientation) I took Charlie to a dog park and got lunch from a nice cafe. The less-Trumpy county for the university required masks indoors, but the locals surrounding the university are...more Trumpy.

We finally got Haley moved into her new home. Charlie did not appreciate being left alone while we went to buy necessities from Target.

The following day we went to a local breakfast spot. "Dog-friendly" is the keyword to give you access to COVID-safe dining, since that means you sit outside. I bought a can of OFF...plenty of bugs who are eager to accept your blood donations. 

We took a little walk around her college and Haley picked up her ID and books, while we peeked into the holy Mecca of SEC football at UGA.

By eventide we had located the Institute building, picked up a few more items for Haley's room, and got dinner at an awesome Dawg Gone Good BBQ. We wandered about the original campus for a while until darkness fell on the last day of my time in Athens, Georgia.

It was time for me to leave Haley to forge her own path ahead. Dad was arriving soon with the remainder of her belongings, and I had to rush home to...do work I guess. Things to know about the Atlanta airport--do not go to the "International Terminal" if you're not flying international. The domestic terminal is in a completely different location that is nearly 15 minutes distant. Give yourself a bit more time not just because security lines are longish, but the walk between check-in and security and the gate you need can be pretty significant (I had to train across 5 concourses). I walked right on to my flight mere minutes before the door closed.

I then became a conservative Facebook commenter.

OK, so now that you're all caught up...my church just released a statement urging its members to get vaccinated and wear masks. The lull in cases has been replaced with a surge in infections as a mutation of the coronavirus has now made the virus 2-3x more infectious than the original strain (not quite as bad as chickenpox, but not far either). In effect, the virus will continue to spread even if 95% of the population is vaccinated, and we're a long way from that in this country. The vaccines are still extremely effective at preventing severe disease and reducing how infectious those who get a "breakthrough" are. Given these developments, it is now increasingly clear that the coronavirus is likely to remain endemic to humans.

I am tired. I am frustrated. I am constantly told that I'm "living in fear" by getting vaccinated, wearing a mask, and shying away from large gatherings. I am told that I am "not being kind" when I get upset when people fail to take proper precautions around my kids, who aren't yet eligible for vaccination. I am told that I need to respect people's individual liberty, proverbially, to "swing [their] arms" while ignoring that my nose might be in the path. Or Tommy's nose, which a few years ago was infiltrated by a nurse's suction tube at a hospital to clean fluids that collected in his lungs as a result of another infection.

I've seen members of my faith take, to my surprise, a cavalier and even defiant attitude towards public health measures. Of course, as in many things, there are echoes of these attitudes even in our own church history. Church missionaries in Hawaii refused to vaccinate themselves against smallpox and discouraged anyone who would hear not to get vaccinated either. Some 50 years later an apostle, a son of President Woodruff, also refused smallpox vaccination and died of the disease. Thankfully, it appeared that the church, as an organization, started to adhere to local restrictions as public health became more centralized. My alma mater, BYU, had their students wear masks during the 1918-1919 influenza pandemic. President Nelson, a heart surgeon, encouraged everyone to fast for a cure, and set an example by getting publicly vaccinated against COVID-19 at the beginning of the year. Despite all this, and the recent additional statement urging masking and vaccinations, there is still resistance among members of the church. I've heard instances of stakes that, at no point in this 18 month pandemic, required masks, now asking its members to wear them. I've also heard instances where stakes note that the masks are merely "optional."

The resistance to basic public health measures among a significant swath of my fellow adherents plays significantly into my anxiety and exasperation. Part of this resistance stems, perhaps, from a belief that God will provide all the protection that is needed against plague and pestilence. I can think of a couple of biblical examples involving lamb's blood and brazen serpents that indicate that sometimes you need to also do what God asks, not simply walking, proverbially, blindfolded into traffic. Part of this, perhaps, stems from a distrust in institutions leading folks to philosophies of Facebook...and then feeling ashamed at ultimately being duped and doubling down. Some LDS faithful are learning the hard way, sadly, and are now expressing regret. Part of this, perhaps, comes down to simple identity politics..."vaccinating and masking are things that those people do, and we aren't those people."

I am, as all of us are, trying to be like Jesus. I relate to Him in 3 Nephi 10, desiring to gather and protect the people from desolation. I am just a guy, an engineer who believes the data and evidence-backed approaches of public health officials. I try to ask people to do the right thing, but I have very limited influence. When a family in Primary refused to wear masks, I was placed in the position of either asking my bishop to enforce masks or withdrawing my children from Primary. Fortunately my local government leaders obviated that decision with a mask mandate. I cannot help people's inability to see the effects their choices have on others, that their swinging arms hit other people's noses...that infectious diseases infect other people. I relate to Nephi, in his garden tower, practically pulling his hair out at the choices people are making, asking in Helaman 7:17, "Why will ye die?" True, it's not very Christian of me to react viscerally to people who place me and my loved ones at risk, but that is the limit I'm at. And chastisement at my inability to have compassion on those who would spitefully hold their viral load against me and mine causes nothing but additional exasperation.

I hope beyond all hope that this virus recedes as the rest of us who actually give a damn drag society away from the precipice, along with kicking and screaming from the stiffnecked.