by Lance Allred
*I especially love studying Europe in the Middle Ages. It was such an intricate chessboard of interdynastic family rivalries, all competing for power and the upper hand, with so much brutality and savagery, seemingly kept in check by the even more powerful Holy Roman Church, which was at the time a giant, scheming, money-laundering corporation, the living example of hypocrisy, trumping all other kings, dukes, and barons, with the threat of excommunication and interdict, while many of the supposed abstinent popes threw lavish weddings for their daughters. It was pure chaos and organized hierarchy all at once. The fact that Western civilization survived through all of this self-destructive and manipulative behavior is simply fascinating to me. Once again, I’m a dork.
*Someday my father will finish telling his story and give you further insight into this way of life—how everything, work or play, was aimed to better our little utopian society and how by the age of twenty-five my father had built four houses and never made a dime on any of them, because it was all for the betterment of the dream. We were all preparing for the Second Coming of Christ—that much I knew.
*Even though this was my fourth year in college, having another red shirt year meant I would ultimately graduate after six years in college: three at Utah and three at Weber.
*I must admit that I’m mostly picking on Haffa because of the institution he played for—Brigham Young University. No alcohol, shorts above the knees, premarital sex, or tattoos allowed, unless of course you’re an athlete. BYU loves their athletes, and they love being Team Jesus, displaying their talent for all the world, showing all how the Lord has blessed them, even if that means compromising their values and standards, allowing athletes such as Rafael Araújo, who is covered in tats, to represent them. It’s safe to say that the BYU athletics program is a living enactment of hypocrisy that would make even Billy Graham scratch his head in bewilderment.
*And John is now a literary agent, thanks to yours truly.
*Apparently I look like Ivan Drago (a fictional character played by Dolph Lundgren in the film Rocky IV). Throughout my career, countless hecklers, from Los Angeles to Pocatello, Idaho, to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, have chanted this to me as though it would hurt my feelings. Now, personally, I don’t see the connection, but thousands of unlinked hecklers can’t be wrong, I guess. All things considered, it could be worse, as Dolph Lundgren is a not the ugliest guy around. So I allow the drunken fan who is spilling beer all over himself to slur insults at me without much resistance: “Ivan Drago! Go back to Russia.”
The more intelligent and/or less inebriated ones will take it a step further and holler “I must break you!” believing themselves to be the first to make such a cleverly concocted insult/compliment. I smile a little inside and reply, without looking at them, but loud enough so they may here me, “If he dies…he dies!”
*Thanks, Randy.
*The physical spankings at the hand of the yellow paddle had become so frequent that my parents, beginning to feel guilty, had instead embraced isolation and imprisonment as a sound alternative.
*Although today Tara is a very pretty and charming woman and has grown into her nose, as a child her nose didn’t fit her face. And her nostrils, if she wanted, could become as big as her eyes.
*It wouldn’t be until I was sixteen—when I’d finally stop guessing at the hearing tests, trying to hide or mask my impairment—that I’d be fitted with a really solid pair of hearing aids. It was no one’s fault by my own: in my pride and attempt at “normality,” I thought it better to try to downplay my impairment and cheat on the tests rather than acknowledge it and be fitted with proper hearing aids. And my family had to suffer through my incessant whats and huhs and would always say, “Why don’t your hearing aids work?” Or, “Lance, turn your hearing aids up”—even though they were already on full blast.
*We Mormons do not embrace the cross as we believe it symbolizes Christ’s death, when we rejoice in his living. So on the rare occasion when I would see a pair of breasts complemented with a cross, it was just that much more exotic.
*I have a hard time with people who have a lisp. Two reasons: First, as I have to read lips and watch the mouth and tongue, when I see someone with a lisp let their tongue get trapped between their teeth, it all goes to hell, and I cannot decipher what they are saying to me, as the lisp will break the pattern and rhythm I have grown used to in interpreting the English language. Second, most people with a lisp can hear their difference. Whereas I, for example, couldn’t hear the difference in the letterr but would often be treated as though I could.
*Except for the day I accidentally boiled my turtle, Tory. I loved that turtle. I gave her a bath every day for two years. And one day, I mistakenly left a bit of the hot water running, because I couldn’t hear the faint sound with my hearing aids, before I ran out to toss a ball around with Court, and when I came back she was dead, in scalding hot water. I was inconsolable for a week.
*The LDS church, it turned out, was embracing of Raphael’s pursuit, letting her know that it was possible and more than acceptable for her to be a successful woman and still be a faithful servant of God.
