All that and a bag of chips...

Her name was Betty.  Betty S.

Juni named her from the letters on my license plate.

Much like the photo here, except she was even cooler.

She had a maroon top to match the pin striping.

Not as shiny clean as this model.  We don't have a lot

of pavement where I come from.

I got Betty when I was in the 12th grade.  She cost $700.

My parents paid half, and I used my permanent fund

dividend money to pay the other half. 

My dad installed about 34 new alternators and starters

before she finally gave up the ghost....dead in the dorm

parking lot of my first year at the university--

three hours away (one way). 

Thanks Dad for making those trips.  :)

Betty was a member of our circle of friends.

Juni had a car, but as my father would say

"The Rice Rocket" couldn't hold that many folks.

And the back floorboard of her Datsun B-210

was rusted out and you had to be careful not to put your foot

through to the ground.

And Sheri wasn't allowed to have friends

ride with her.

So Betty hauled us around.  In style. 

I have one specific memory that is legendary in

the Popper family. 

"Val--The Road Kill."

(kids--don't try this at home)

It just so happens that for whatever freakish reason,

I was voted a school Homecoming princess in my senior year

(I am sure it had something to do with my sweet ride...)

I got the classic "ride around the track deal during halftime" ride,

and even had a sash and crown.  No sceptre though...

jipped.

The next day, Acinom, Juni and I were

over on Stacy Drive, the Johnson County of Soldotna

(for you local folks).  It was a Sunday afternoon

and I remember in those days I boycotted showering and

all around good hygiene on Sundays.  I was dressed

in men's boxers (before they were trendy) and a sweatshirt.

Lookin' sweet.

One of them said I should hop on the hood of Betty

so that I could relive my glory moment of the day before.

So I did. 

I sat on Betty's hood like I had good sense, and began

my best Miss America wave to the neighborhood.

Apparently Juni couldn't handle Betty's power upgrade

from the Rice Rocket, because she started going pretty fast.

When I say pretty fast, I mean, I suddenly found myself

sprawling out on the hood, men's undies flapping in the wind.

I rolled over, like you would see in the movies

and grabbed on to the windshield wipers for dear life.

I remember screaming

while Juni and Acinom laughed. 

Then disaster.

Juni turned the corner onto the main street, and hit the curb.

Did I mention it was a big curb?  Really big.  Maybe

the biggest curb ever made...I'm sure of it  :)

I was bounced off the hood like a pebble

hitting the windshield.  Honestly, I am lucky I

didn't get run over.

There I was, on a main street in a town

with not too many of those, in a mangled,

crumply pile of road rash flesh.

They pulled over and I remember Acinom

jumping out to open the back door

and shove me in.

It was such a stupid thing to do

that I was scared to tell my parents.

I didn't want to.  But I am sure they

could tell by my bloody legs and the

way I hobbled around.

The good news is I have since made a full recovery.

And I haven't ridden on the hood of a car since.  :)

Where is Zarahemla?

Don't be afraid.  I am not going to preach to you.  But I have been thinking.  Really thinking.

I am reading the Book of Mormon:  Another Testament of Jesus Christ.

The Book of Mormon can be explained by some much wiser than me (they are called missionaries and they would be happy to stop by and have a visit with you...just leave your number...:))  But it does have some really great stories in it.

I have been thinking a lot about one recently.  About a fella named Amulek.

Amulek was quite the guy.  Gold, silver, precious things, women, kids, and knew a lot of folks.  He sounds pretty bright.  "I am also a man of no small reputation among all those who know me."  He is confident.  And quite honest.  He begins to share his story of his total coolness and then leads into his conversion to religion.  I especially liked this one piece:  'I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know." 

I like how he owns his rebellion.  How many things will I not "know?" 

He goes on rebelling "even until the fourth day of the seventh month of the 10th year of the judges...".  He even remembers the day he made a change.  When he began to "know."

His story is out there for the non-believer.  He has an angel tell him to turn his journey around and go home so he can host a prophet of God who could use some help.  Needs a snack.  Place to crash.  It doesn't say why Amulek.  It just says it is.

And in Amulek's own words, he is blessed.  His family is blessed.  His father is blessed and things were going his way....I imagine they do when you are hanging out with a prophet of God. 

Amulek converts and joins with Alma to preach the gospel of Christ to others.  And frankly, it doesn't go so well.

They end up really offending the wicked-doing locals and they get thrown in jail.  They watched fellow believers burned alive (some speculate some could have been his family).  They were beat for days.  His hometown is destroyed.  Amulek ends up "forsaking all his gold, and silver, and his precious things...and for the word of God he was being rejected by those who were once his friends and also by his father, and his kindred." 

In a nutshell, he loses everything for the precious truth he gained.

This is the part of the story that I like the best.  After Alma gets the other new converts settled, it says "Alma having seen all these things, therefore he took Amulek and came over to the land of Zarahemla, and took him to his own house, and did administer unto him in his tribulations, and strengthened him..."

Alma's house, in Zarahemla, was Amulek's safe place to land.  For some reason, it makes me like Alma all the more.

It was ironic that the reason this story touched me so deeply is that I happen to be in that section of the book when I took some time to read aloud to Tom, who was laying in the ICU from his cancer surgery the other day, too sick to read it for himself.

The LDS people have a name for these "coincidences."  We call them "tender mercies" from God.  It feels like a little love note from God saying to me, "Valsy, this is your time to administer unto him in tribulations..." 

I know a thing or two about bringing people home to my version of Zarahemla.  And, of course, others have taken me home to theirs. 

My hometown of Zarahemla has been a house with a circle driveway on the Spur Highway.  A basement apartment with a too-small of kitchen.  A big furnitureless duplex on Lincoln.  A guest room with a koi pond view. 

I learned how to bring people home from my parents.  Perhaps they didn't administer the way I do, but they set the example for me.  My example Almas...if you will. (I am pretty sure my dad swears a little more than Alma). 

The Zarahemlas that have made the most difference to me haven't been places at all.  They are people.  There is a list so long I would never dare to make it.  Certain voices, a short email note from a Iphone, a photograph, or even memories takes me to that safe place...in good and bad times. 

Another piece that I love is that Alma SAW Amulek struggling and did something.  He didn't just say "Man, that stinks.  Sorry dude."  He did more than say words.  He did something about it.  Was Alma tired?  Probably.  He had shared those same expriences. 

My Zarahemla is a pretty simple place.  No gold, silver, or precious things here.  Just plain old love.    Wanna come over?  :)

Val's Funeral Plans

To quote Nat--to post or not to post.  I wrote this a couple days ago....I am feeling it today. 

"Nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive..."  Nikki Stixx--"Life Is Beautiful"

Great song, but it has a different effect on me.  I don't feel alive at a funeral.  I feel like planning.

I have always been a planner.  Even as a kid, I would see an open space and wonder what I could do in there.  Movie theaters, football fields, school common areas. 

Death of course brings funerals, which brings the planner out in full force.  I have comtemplated more than once (and this week more seriously than other weeks) about being a funeral director. 

When my grandmother died a few years ago, we had a party of sorts after the funeral.  Everyone else in the family was drinking "Mike's Hard Lemonade" (translation for the Mormons:  spiked lemonade) while I got chummy with the funeral director (who was also having some Mike's).  She said I was a natural, because of course she had a few in her and had known me all of 20 minutes.  I bet she says that to all that families that drunk her up during her afternoon shift. 

Everytime I attend a funeral, I see parts I want at mine or not.  I always tell Mr. Fun the changes, addendums, the additions, the subtractions.  Several years ago, when Tom was diagnosed with cancer and we planned his funeral, I planned mine as well.  Some of that has changed since then.  I did write it down, but you know, I think he might could find it easier here. 

If you are interested, you can read along....drumroll please....

Open Letter to Mr. Fun about Val's Funeral

Mr. Fun,

You said to write it all down.  Here it is, lovey:

Opening Song:  Because I Have Been Given Much (LDS hymnbook page 219)

Opening Prayer:  Charity Martin Reno

Obituary reading/Eulogy:  Dave Tallant (if he is still alive--he is pretty old :))--I have seen him in action and he does a great one

Talk: Sheri Dean--add some heathen touch

Special Musical Number:  In This Very Room

Talk:  Natalie Anderson

Scripture:  And David's soul was knit to Jonathan's

Slideshow of Valsy and some of my favorite pictures I have taken

Open Mic Time

Closing Remarks:  whichever bishop is running the show (some good words like Val was a nice librarian) (not too churchy or my parents will get bored and skip for some golfing  :))

Closing Song:  Well Fount of Many Blessings (in some old hymnbook you find at the DI thrift store)

Prayer:  Tiel Smith

I would like to be buried in fluffy socks, a pillow and blanket.  A soft blanket.  Maybe with a photo book of my work.  Don't leave me alone in the church at night.  You know what I am saying--sleepover.

Can you make my face have a smile on it during the viewing?  My blue earrings I always wear...they don't poke the back of my neck.

Food:  Lori will be a great one to run the food.  She knows I will haunt her if they serve Funeral Potatoes.  Especially the ones with corn flakes on top.  Gag.  Our kids don't like those.  Make sure there is some homemade bread...with strawberry rubarb jam for all you Amish jam lovers.  Homemade raspberry lemonade in the summer or hot chocolate in the winter for drinks.

Cheap smooth casket.  I like The Girl's idea to signing the casket with Sharpies during the viewing.  Like a big strange yearbook.

Cheap burial spot, with some sort of garden seat so that you can rest your weary bones. Have some of those pretty dollar store clear stones so that peple can put them on top of my tombstone so I know they were there. Like Oskar Schindler's grave.

Make sure the obituary ends with "Buick for sale."  :) 

Donate any flowers to the Oncology floor of the local hospital to the patients who never have visitors.  Ever.

Maybe take some to the dinner tables of the homeless shelter. 

I would prefer no flowers actually but instead donations made to the North Kansas City Rotary Club Charitable Fund (and it is tax deductable) so the money can go to good use.  They will know how to best serve the folks who need it.

Pall Bearers:
Mr. Fun

The Boy

Big Daddy Joe

Brother Brian

Tiel Smith

Tom* (all depends on the health)

Nathan P

Dave T

Honorary:

Darrel W

Dick G.

Tom Thorpe

The Girl

Charity

Natalie

Lori
Cheryl

Tom A.

Did I forget anything?  Man, I sure am bossy for a dead girl.  :)

Bob the Builder Award: Got Bread?

Hot. Homemade. Bread. 

Yum.

Close your eyes...no wait, if you do, you can't read the rest of this all engrossing post!  Pretend you smell this scrumptious homemade treat RIGHT now....deep breath.....hmmmm.

I have been thinking a lot about bread, especially since February.  If you are close to me, you know that I am off the bread.  No kidding. 

I haven't had a slice of bread since February.  I miss it, especially the homemade kind.  It makes me sick to my stomach, so it is out.  :(

I do have a tiny piece each week at church for our main worship.  I figured it was best I make the exception for God and His boy, Jesus.

You know how it is.  When you have something you just have it.  When you eliminate it, that is when you REALLY want it. 

Remember Dave the Hot Rod Builder Rock Star of the Northland?  His wife, Carol, her father died Sunday.  Cancer for the last six years.  Still painful.  Still sorrowful.  Don't even get me started to where her father's death has been taking me in regards to Tom and his cancer.  (Side note:  He is not well, and is scheduled for surgery next Tuesday to remove another ping pong ball sized cancer from his chest.)

Sunday, I and another church lady,  prepared a meal for Carol's entire family, delivered only a couple hours after the van had taken her father's body to the funeral home.

The family looked tired.  The home was surprisely quiet and peaceful.  Perhaps they were all cried out for the moment.  I had brought homemade soup, chili, cookies, and salad.  And homemade bread.

Of all the food three trips from the car brings, it was the homemade bread they commented about first.  The warm, homey smell to go with the homey peace that was there.  It was Kiera's bread that brought them to the table.

Homemade bread soothes.  I remember when Tom had his first cancer surgery almost four years ago.  A nice woman, Janelle, dying of cancer herself (she died two months later) brought doughnuts and you guessed it, homemade BREAD, to the hospital waiting room to us.

It is almost like homemade bread is magic...and apparently I am not the only one who thinks so.

These ladies began "Spread the Bread" a non-profit to show love and kindness in their neighborhood.  It is now a grassroots worldwide movement.  You should read about it.  It makes your nose tingle and your tummy yearn for some.  And makes your hands itch to make some to give away.  :)

http://spreadthebread.org

A big fat welcome to Wayne

Meet Wayne Brady, the newest member

of the Wildlife Habitat Pond in the back yard.

I picked him out for Mr. Fun because I LOVED

those crazy scales.

I especially liked the other members of his family,

buck-bucking each other.