30 Dec 2001 #0153.html

Counting Swallows

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Dear Paul and Kate, Melanie and Jared, Bridget and Justin, Sara, Ben and Sarah, Heather, Audrey, Rachel, and Matt via hardcopy,

cc: file, Tony Hafen, Pauline Nelson via mail, Sara and Des Penny, Lloyd and Luana Warner, Diane Cluff, Maxine Shirts, and Sherri Nelson.

Welcome to "Thoughtlets." This is a weekly review of an idea, belief, thought, or words that will hopefully be of some benefit to you, my children, with an electronic copy to on-line extended family members. Any of you can ask me not to clutter your mail box at any time.

"Last Saturday, December 29th, the Sun computer, which is also the walden3d.com mail server, started acting funny. I had spent three days digital filing from about 1,150 e-mail messages down to about 200 messages, and all of a sudden the computer said the disk drives were empty, implying I had lost all of 2001's e-mail messages. I didn't dare write any e-mail's until I had the computer looked at. Marc came by on Monday afternoon and was able to fix the problem. However, by then I was deep in a big project, which along with Christmas, kept me tied up until Wednesday evening. Then there were other mitigating circumstances, which I will write about in a second thoughtlet later today (../0201.html). The bottom line is I didn't get a Thoughtlet off last week, and so I will spend this afternoon repenting.

It is time to do something about the weight I have gained over the last half a dozen years. I guess I could continue to feel sorry for myself, and eat myself into an early grave. However, I don't think that would be fair to Ethan Evans and Grant Matthew. Even though you kids didn't have Grandparents active in your lives (with the notable exception of Grandpa and Grandma Shirts impact on Heather, Audrey, Rachel, and Matt), I want to be active in the lives of my Grandkids. I never knew my Grandpa Nelson, because he died before I was born. However, Grandpa Hafen and I were buddies, and, in some ways, I learned more from him than I did from my Dad. I want to provide that same kind of benefit to my Grandkids. And I can not be involved if I'm dead. The charts say I should weigh 180-190 for my height, and I found myself at Christmas weighing 265. So it made perfect sense to do something about the extra 70-80 pounds I carry around. In my typical computer nerd way, I decided to break the problem down to it's smallest component: the swallow. Andrea is still asking me if I'm counting chews, and I say nope. For reference, in regards to weight control, it doesn't matter how many times you chew. It seems to me that what matters is how many times you swallow. So I have set out on another quest. I am going to count every swallow I make, until I weigh between 180 and 190 for at least 3 months. I realize this could take a long time. Now it doesn't do any good counting swallows, if the count isn't recorded. If the count is not written down, it becomes as fruitless as counting swallows in the old barn down by Grandma Nelson's house on the farm, where 50 new swallows would take the place of every 25 that left, and they all looked the same. So I've started a simple spread-sheet with the following 10 columns:

| Date | Description | Swallows | Proteins | Vegetables | Breads & Starches | Dairy | Fruit | Water | Sugar | + Totals |


When I count swallows and write them down on my little 3"x4" piece of scratch paper, I record the day once, a brief description of what I put in my mouth, and the number of swallows. This is the raw data Heather can use for a statistical study for one of her nutrition classes. I then proceed to make an estimate of how many swallows are protein (this is easy with things like the nice Greenberg Smoked Turkey that the Rudman Partnership sent to us for Christmas), and it is harder when I mix up left over ham and bean soup with left over shoestring potatoes and saltines). Oh well! Life is not suppose to be easy.

I'm not sure how many years it will take me to learn how much of what I should and shouldn't eat. However, I figure if I simply count swallows, and think about the scale results, I'm smart enough to learn how to control what and how much I eat. So here are the daily average number of swallows for the first 11 days of my quest:

CATAGORIES Dec. 26-31 Jan. 1-5 Dec. 26- Jan 5 total swallows per day 134 174 152 protein 24 18 21 vegetables 16 13 14 bread & starches 20 57 37 dairy 11 19 15 water 28 32 38 sugar 20 13 17


It is easy to see the impact of Fast Sunday on the December averages (last Sunday was Fast Sunday because this Sunday is Stake Conference). It is suprising how much sugar I eat. Oh well! It is also equally easy to see the impact of 52 swallows of buttered popcorn at the movie last Friday night. A few weeks ago we had a High Priest Priesthood lesson on integrity, and I could not help but think about getting popcorn bags refilled at different movies, even knowing how the theaters overcharge for popcorn. So for the last several movies we have gone to, I have not had any popcorn. Friday, I decided to go ahead and purchase a bag of popcorn. I threw the bag away after the movie, and based on the impact on counting swallows, I will not purchase popcorn when I go to movies anymore. Oh well! And in the meantime I plan to do a better job at exercising also.

The Monday before Christmas I got a nice note from Melanie asking where the Thoughtlet was. I sent it just seconds before her e-mail arrived, and her note arrived before the computer gave me a cc of the Thoughlet. Melanie, it was nice to be remembered. I struggled with the Thoughlet two weeks ago. After proofing it, Andrea said, `Are you sure you can live with the consequences of sending this? There are some who will not understand your point of view.' I said `Yes,' and have spent the last two weeks wondering if I was right, specifically because only one of you called over the holidays.

Gifts have become my way of expressing love (for example, these Thoughtlets). It was wonderful to have Rachel and Matt here, and to see and experience their joy at Christmas. They even said, with genuine words from the heart, `This is the best Christmas we have ever had.' It was disappointing Matt did not get a sibling gift yet. He probably asked a dozen times if Ben and Sarah are coming down, if Sara was bringing it down, etc. Sarah sent a nice note apologizing for it still being on their kitchen counter, and pointing out that Matt will get another Christmas. Haden Hudson, a good guy who has never joined the church and whose x-wife and daughter are members and whom Matt and I Home Teach, sent me the following story, which helps me put Christmas in perspective:

`The Best Christmas... Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving. It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible; instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't thnk of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what. Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on. After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood- the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "Why?" "I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. "Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy." We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern. We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?" Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp. "We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children---sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out. "We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people. I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us." In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it. Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes. Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave.Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine. At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away. Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, "'May the Lord bless you,' I know for certain that He will." Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand." I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.'


Melanie called from the airport on Christmas morning, and it was good to talk to you. Melanie and Jared, thanks for the beautiful tie and the sockings. Wonderful gifts. Roice, thanks for the book: `The Laws of the Web.' It is very good. I have read it already, and since you will probably not read these words for some time, I will call or send you a direct note. Rachel, thanks for the wood carving tools. They are neat, and I hope to find the time to use them. Matt, thanks for the shaving cream. I've used it every day since Christmas. Sara and Des, thanks for the Olympics Calendar, the Bill Cosby tape, and the other things. It is always so obvious how much thought you put into your gifts. And Andrea, thanks for coming into my life. I am really enjoying Hawking's `The Universe in a Nutshell.' I especially appreciate your support. I see more every day how hard it is to live with an entrepreneur. I've said the words, and I think it is important to write them so all those I care about can see: Thanks Andrea and I love you!

When Rachel, Andrea, and I went to see the movie `A Beautiful Mind' on Saturday, the 29th, I couldn't help but resonate with with the lead as he justified his crude advances with words about `cutting to right to the point.' It seems to me that my comments about eternal families have me coming across to some as this same kind of nerd. For those who have chosen to largely cut me out of their lives, I continue to hope, like the father of the prodigal son, to see the day of return, and a decision to be part of our eternal family. Also, like the movie, I'm sure any movement in this direction is only going to come through patience, kindness, long-suffering, and most importantly love. I am surely living with consequences of my own choices and my own weaknesses. And for what it is worth, I do strive for inner integrity. Maybe I should give up and be passive aggressive by not striving for any kind communication when someone hurts my feelings. Yet, I continue to believe there will be a day, a day before our Heavenly Father, when we find out who was actually counting which swallows. To be very specific, I encourage each of you to go to a Thoughtlet (http://www.walden3d.com/thoughtlets/2000/0046.html), where I quote `A Proclamation to the World on The Family,' read and ponder each of the words, and spend some time counting swallows, where swallows are specific actions you are personally doing to support these basic human principles with regards to your parents, yourself, and, for those who have a spouse or children, your own family unit.

In regards to my week, I spent the Monday before Christmas creating a document I call `Becoming MicroSoft/WalMart Rich' for Joe Roberts to take to one of his friends at a Christmas Eve party. We have had a couple of follow-up meetings, and I remain very optimistic. The other day Andrea quoted her brother Randy as saying, `Roice is always talking about big projects, and they never seem to happen.' I beg to differ. Specifically starting with the accomplishments of each of my 10 kids, and go on to count swallows of pride and impact. I realize I think differently, and to me whether things happen is a matter of context. There is no question that time will show the big projects you kids will be involved in put a shadow on the things I have worked on. In regards to `business deals' I have been involved in, and the world's way of keeping track in terms of dollars, this counting is overshadowed by the impact of Landmark Graphics and the billions of dollars of hydrocarbons found using this technology, including Landmark being sold to Halliburton for $560 million. And yes, we pocketed about $3 million as a family from Landmark (And yes again, it is very sad the money was not managed well at all). There was over $1 million in work in Saudi Arabia, and over $500,000 for work at Fletcher Challenge Petroleum through HyperMedia Corporation, and how do you measure the impact of NetScape (or whether HyperMedia had any impact here)? Walden Visualization Systems and Continuum Resources poorly managed over $30 million, and Magic Earth was purchased for $100,000., leveraging all of the good market building we did. Advanced Structures Incorporated has generated over $10 million each year for the last three years (alas no profit). Anyway, there is truth in Randy's statement, and obviously, as I reread this paragraph, it set of some alarm bells in my head. And yet I do remain very optimistic.

After Christmas I spent most of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday working with Scot Sechrist on improving the documentation of Dynamic's CLPs (new exploration Concepts, Leads, and drillable Prospects). I already mentioned the movie Rachel, Andrea, and I went to on Saturday, the 29th. Sunday was a good day. I was very touched by the testimonies in Fast & Testimony Meeting. Marion Pickerd did an exceptional job in her lesson about Zion, or `the pure in heart.' This is one of my favorite topics, and I expect there will be a couple of Thoughtlets in the future dedicated to this topic. She asked me to write out Five things I hope to accomplish before I die. The first two (page 56 of Notebook 35) are:

  1. Live every day as an example to children and descendents.
  2. Document my life and testimony for descendents.

Even if all of you ask me to stop sending you the Thoughtlets, I am now committed to continue to write them each week, with the spiritually renewed hope and belief this effort will eventually truly prove to be a useful exercise.

On Sunday, I also wrote a possible stanza for Prime Words in Sacrament Meeting, based on Colleen Moore's Sacrament Meeting talk(a):

Where there are hills There are valleys(a) Where there are bills There are stock market rallies


Matt and I Home Taught the Moores, who are home from Indonesia for Christmas, the Holleman's, the Riches, and Hayden Hudson. As I think of those visits, I look at two other stanza's, written on December 16th, quoting Mitchell Branning(b), Lynette Stevens(c), and Tim Stevens(d):

Gifts: Covet earnestly the best gifts(b) Open our hand generously for the poor(c) Sharing that which lifts Mining wanted ore to open love's door Self-Judgement: There is not a test to cram For entering the Celestial Kingdom(d) Rather choices are written by gram, And inch, emitted in our life's sum


As far as my week, the computer problems were an issue. And, other than my paranoid feelings of rejection by those I love the most, it was a good Christmas week. I assume each of you had a good week, and I hope you only found spiritual and physical nutrition as you were counting swallows."

I'm interested in sharing weekly a "thoughtlet" (little statements of big thoughts which mean a lot to me) with you because I know how important the written word can be. I am concerned about how easy it is to drift and forget our roots and our potential among all of distractions of daily life. To download any of these thoughtlets go to http://www.walden3d.com/thoughtlets or e-mail me at rnelson@walden3d.com.

With all my love,
Dad
(H. Roice Nelson, Jr.)

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Copyright © 2001 H. Roice Nelson, Jr.