New Family Blog

I am the editor and chief of my Olsen family newsletter. I thought I'd get around to doing a newsletter once a month, but getting family information was like pulling teeth and I'm not a dentist.

So I decided to start a family blog and my dad's name wasn't taken. So if you're interested in family junk and my family has a lot of junk, especially me. My junk is by far the worst. Check it out at Paul Olsen Family Blog.

I'm leaving Thursday, October 23, 2008 for Northern Utah. It's my dad's 90th birthday celebration. Although he turned 90 last Sunday, October 19, 2008, the rest of the family is having a get together this Saturday at my brother Scott's chapel in Brigham City. It's the only place big enough for my family.

I'm the only one of my dad's children that lives outside the state of Utah so my husband Tim and I are the only one's who have to travel for two days to get to Brigham City, Utah.

I'm the one trying to look out from behind my brother Scott.

Just to let you know the extent of my family. I have four older brothers. Scott, Reed, Dale and David. Between the four of them there are 34 grandchildren. I only have one son, Mike, (see previous post).

At last count, those grandchildren have had over 75 great-grandchildren and numerous great-greatgrandchildren. My family takes very seriously the commanded to "multiply and replenish the earth". I figured one times one is still one. That's why we only have one child. (Right!)

So hopefully it won't snow and mess up my weekend. I don't do snow!

We make as the usual stops along the road to Brigham--new kind of Mexican restaurant in St. George; the Famous Cheese Factory in Beaver (for curds); The Church's distribution center on 17th South in Salt Lake for church stuff; and great buffet in Salt Lake City, if we're lucky.)

We're going to attempt to go to the Logan Temple. It's for research for my second book as well as wanting to see inside. That's where my parents, my maternal grandparents and my fraternal grandparents were married. Then we slip by another cheese Factory on 10th North in Logan for all kinds of dairy delights. And I can't forget to purchase my year's supply of Brigham City's famous candy on the way out of town. I'm on a diet now and have to ration my chocolate supply until our next trip to Utah. Do you think that just one year, just one trip I could go to Italy or China or someplace equally as thrilling? Probably not! My life and my love and my family are in Utah, so that's where we go. For sympathy, please leave a comment.

Mormon Mommy Blog (my version)

I'm always impressed and a little saddened to view the proud Mormon Mommy blogs that are out there. Impressed, because these wonderful women are raising exceptional children and have the right to boast about their offspring. Saddened, because I missed out on having a Mommy blog. So here’s my attempt.

Tim and I married in July of 1982. (That’s a long time ago for you who are counting.) On our honeymoon, we went back to my mission area in Kansas and Nebraska. We also went on a wild goose chase to Texas pursuing a dream career for Tim, but that’s a subject for another blog post. (A really long and terse blog post!)

In November of 1982, I got pregnant with my only child, a son. I have to tell you that I was never so sick in all my life before or since. I think I used to pray to die it was so bad. I didn’t just have morning sickness, I had morning, mid-morning, mid-day, mid-afternoon, later afternoon, early evening, evening and nighttime sickness. The doctor was afraid I’d dehydrate or blow a gasket or something equally as vile. I managed to break all the blood vessels in my eyes and sprain a few ribs. Fun, don’t you think?

I’m not sure when the sickness ended, but in April of 1983, Tim decided he wanted to work for the church. The church was interested and flew him to Salt Lake for an interview which turned out great. We packed up all our belongings and had my brother Dale haul us to Salt Lake and we found a basement apartment on 6th East and 6th South. We stayed there until the landlady made it impossible for us to live civilly as neighbors. (Tim never got the job with the Church.)

We had to pack up and move in two days. I was eight months pregnant. The forced move caused my blood pressure to soar out of control. Suddenly we were in a new town, (Logan, Utah) I had a new doctor and going to give birth at a new hospital—all in one miserable day. Not the best of welcome's. We arrived in Logan on Friday afternoon, ate a chili dog and drank A&W rootbeer and then shuffled off to the Logan Regional Hospital where the doctor on call, (my doctor went out of town), induced labor.

I labored all Friday night, all day Saturday, (thank goodness for National League Baseball), and into the night on Saturday. The obstetrician on call decided to go horseback riding and forgot all about me. He finally strolled in about ten p.m. and found both me and my baby in distress. Without so much as a sorry excuse, I was hurled into the operating room, freezing cold, hooked up to tubes and wires and scared out of my mind. Because it was an emergency C-Section, Tim couldn’t be with me. There was no time for easing me into sleep, they just poked and prodded and forced that awful mask over my mouth and said “good night Gracie.”


Much later, when someone slapped me and told me to wake up, that I had a beautiful baby boy, I wanted to slap the person back. You see, I was expecting a girl. My doctor in California promised me a girl. I’d prepared sweaters, booties, and baby clothes for a girl. However, when Tim came to see me in recovery, he insisted I had a boy—not a girl. I was still too groggy from the anesthesia to argue with him. I couldn’t verify that interesting little tidbit because they didn’t bring him too me for several hours after delivery.

But when I finally saw my little boy, my heart was lost. I knew immediately the name we had chosen for him was wrong. He wasn’t a James Paul (after both our fathers), he was a Michael and I knew that without question. There was something about that little cherub face that spoke of Arch-angels.

From Logan we moved to Brigham City, Utah and then back to California. My son grew and matured. He was the delight of my life. I wish I could say I was the delight of his. I was tired. I guess that’s the best way to say it. Now that I look back now, I gain an enormous amount of weight after Mike’s birth and that added to the heavy burden that I felt. Thank goodness I had Mike to help me find a great happiness even though I felt like a miserable louse inside.

We moved frequently, but he never complained. I often thought how horrible it was that he would never be able to say that this or that home was his childhood home or the town where he was from. He did well in California. We took him to the beach for the first time. He loved it, especially the taste of sand. I never thought he’d put it in his mouth. But it made a great picture.

He also learned to walk while we lived in Claremont, California. He loved his friends and I babysat a couple of children that he adored.

Mike developed his love of computers at a young age. He was barely eleven months old when his father left out first computer down on the coffee table. Mike knew he wasn’t supposed to touch it, and from the grin on his face, he knew better, but the temptation was too great. From that single finger poke came his unconditional love of computers. Mike still works with computers doing help desk work at a company here in Camarillo.

Though he’s grown now, just turned twenty five years old and finally moved out of the house, he’s still the joy of my life. It’s not always been a smooth path Mike has chosen, and my heart has been dragged through the street a time or two, but he’s grown into a kind and loving individual, one I’m very proud of. So maybe I do have a legitimate right to brag about my baby boy.

Wait, what, I need therapy? What are you nuts!

This was my very reaction when my acupuncturist, Tim (pictured below to the left) told me he thought I had issues with money. I told him you have to have money to have issues with it. He laughed and said that was his point, I had a bad attitude about money, or the lack thereof, and needed to talk to someone about it. I think the only thing that really bothers me about me is that when I have to pay for something and I know very well that I don’t have the money for it, I come unglued, cry a lot and basically plunge into a serious depression. That’s not crazy, right?

So I thought I’d humor Tim (not my Tim) and take his free counseling session that he offered me. It was an offer from a new counselor in the Camarillo area. It was free (another money issue) so I went.

He has an amazing office. A lavishly tiled floor, expensive elegant furniture, the kind of place to inspire relaxation, I suppose. After waiting for a moment while he conferred with his office person, I was shown back into one of his “therapy” rooms. I fully expected to see a psychiatrists couch, but was disappointed when he took a overstuffed chair in the corner and I sat on what I thought was a velvet sattee.

My emotions were near the surface and threatening to boil over when he began to talk to me. He first asked me while I was seeing Tim, (not my Tim). I told him I was having difficulty with the sciatic region in my back and it was causing me considerable pain in my feet and back. The next thing out of his mouth shouldn’t have surprised me, or come as a shock. See I’ve been a big girl, (if you’ve read any of my posts up to this point you’ll know this), so I shouldn’t have had a melt down when he asked me if I’d ever considered losing weight. Come on. What would you do or say? Suppose you just dropped ninety pounds in a year and were still working like a dog to get the rest of it off? Maybe I have issues with my weight as well.

Anyway, after that comment I had a hard time listening to anymore of his counsel. I was already incensed. However, when I stopped to think about it, I really should have cut the guy some slack; after all he didn’t know me from Eve. He had no idea I’d already dropped ninety pounds. He just saw that I was huge and thought he'd offer constructive criticism. But I was already too irritated to listen.

The man has some great ideas for getting rid of stress through meditation, refocusing our minds and energies and learning techniques for self-affirmation. He’s written ten books and is working on another. He does belief in prayer as a way to overcome depression and stress and works with religious and educational organizations. However, he didn’t give me a cure for my money issues. I have come to the conclusion that we’re all a little crazy. How else do we survive a world full of craziness and insanity?

When I came home and told Tim (my Tim) about my session with the counselor, he was sympathetic to my plight, but had his own spin on my phobia. He told me it’s not so much a matter of money or the lack thereof; it’s a matter of security. I just don’t feel secure. Tell me who feels totally secure in today’s world, well except for Bill Gates and Warren Buffet.

Anyway, I like to give you just a few examples of my basic insanity:

I’m crazy about the church and my Lord, Jesus Christ (well not so much crazy as zealous!)
I’m crazy about my husband Tim.
I’m crazy about my son Mike.
I’m crazy about my 90 year old dad and my extended family
I’m crazy for the Twilight series of books, thus that makes me crazy for the new Twilight movie to open 11/21/08
You might also add that I’m suffering OCD (That’s Obsessive Cullen Disorder for all you Twilight Fans)
I’m crazy about anything chocolate (a chocolate coated bumper might taste yummy!)
I’m crazy for Dodger Baseball (If they don’t beat the Phillies I’ll really go insane!)
I’m crazy about rock n roll

I also have fears and phobias:
I fear my own death and that of loved ones (it's just scary)
I fear the loss of security or jobs
I fear liberals (only the screaming kind)
I fear having health problems, surgeries
I fear I’m going to miss an episode of “Dancing with the Stars”
I fear I’m going to have to wait in a long line at the opening of “Twilight”

I also have obsessions:
I’m obsessed with perfection, though my home, my clothing or my life would not reflect that perfection
I’m obsessed with Twilight
I’m obsessed with getting my hands on as many books as possible
I'm obsessed with losing weight and feeling better
And I'm obsessed with anything chocolate (a chocolate covered bumper just might be tasty)

Okay, okay, I’ve got problems. So does everyone. Is there really a “normal” standard that people are supposed to measure up to? Well I can’t see it. We all have our fears, phobias, obsessions, craziness and insanities. Isn’t that what we do every day? We do the same thing over and over and over again and expect different results. For example: we get up, get dressed, eat, and go to work (school), come home, eat, sleep and repeat. I personally believe like Bon Jovi did when he sang his song, “Everybody’s Broken. See if you don’t agree.

Step into the deep end
Make yourself at home
When you wonder why you're breathing
Know you're not alone
It's so hard to believe
It's easier to doubt
You're trying to hold in
But you’re dying to scream out.

It's okay to be a little broken
Everybody's broken, in this life
Its okay, to feel a little broken
Everybody's broken, you’re alright
It's alright, it's just life.

Take a look around
Tell me what you see
Is who you think you are
Who you want to be.

So it’s ok to be a little broken

Twilight--The Real Happy Ending

WARNING: If you have an aversion to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint theology, please DON'T READ THIS!!!

"Breaking (The Morning of the First Resurrection) Dawn"

I have a totally ingenious (Latter-day Saint version) squeal for "Breaking Dawn". I thought it up all my myself. I should be knighted or something equally as grand, because this idea is so heavenly, so divine. I'll bet no one else could come up with an alternative ending to Twilight that is so perfect.

Anyway, enough self-gratification. Let me set the stage. First of all, Bella and Edward get married, we all know that. They have Reneesme, (silly name), she grows up, (in 7 years), marries Jacob (ew, sick), they start on their happily ever after. Well they can only go so far in their version of "happily ever after', right? Vampire, werewolves--no matter how long their live in "their" version of immortality, even they cannot survive a world that is destroyed in some cataclysmic explosion of Biblical proportions, right?

Well that's where my next best seller comes in. You see Forks, WA sits inside the boundaries of the Washington Tacoma Mission of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I could see the missionaries assigned to Port Angeles becoming very curious about the folks in the small town of Forks. I could almost picture their mission president sending his most tenacious missionaries to the area. You know the type, the Elder Kessler and his companion, (I can't remember his name from the Mormon show "Saturday's Warrior"), a real set of bulldog missionaries. These are the never-say-die kind of missionaries that won't take no or a door slamming on their double souled Bone Sierra Lace-up shoes for an answer. Like I said, bulldogs!

I can picture them now, trudging down that long road out of town toward the Cullen's cut off, eager, anticipating finding that "Golden" family. (Because they haven't had one baptism in eighteen months of hard labor.)

They aren't detoured by the long, three mile winding, fern over grown lane that is obviously impossible to find unless you were a vampire and this was home. But our senior Elder, let's call him Elder Moss. (That seemed appropriate for the location.) And his companion is Elder Green, (funny, right?).

Anyway, they're trudging through the squishy emerald green vegetation, being led by the spirit. They haven't seen another house for a very long time and Elder Green starts to get cranky. Well more like--scared to death. The dark grey clouds are low, threatening like giant bloated water balloons, so not only will they be stuck out in the un-godly green hell, they'll be drench as well. But Elder Moss is undaunted. He can smell the prize. Well he can smell something--and it's sweet!

After a long deathly quiet trip, they break through the ferns and into the meadow, or the large lawn in front of the Cullen's mansion. Stunned into silence, Elder Green can only gawk, his face pale, his lips red from biting them. But Elder Moss moves forward to the porch. There are lights on in the home and he knows people (funny again) are inside, so he's going to knock until someone opens the door. Elder Green is really that, by now he's physically green. He has a bad feeling, a terrible deep down, hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-the-neck, fear. He winces and trails reluctantly after his companion. What the heck, you only live once.

Anyway, just as Elder Moss prepares to knock, the door bursts open and Emmett Cullen fills the doorway looking like he just found lunch, a delicious beef steak and a juicy pork chop. He licks his lips and Elder Moss nearly swallows his tongue. However Elder Moss finds his voice and prepares to give his door approach. At the same time, Emmett is ready to roll on the ground with laughter from the look on the Elder's faces.

"Hi, sir. My name is Elder Moss and this is my companion..." Elder Green is inching his way nervously off the porch and has one foot on the top stair. "Elder?" Elder Moss's eyes are wide with fright.

Elder Green freezes. Elder Moss turns apologetically around to face Emmett. "Sorry, he's a bit shy." He smiles as Emmett who looks back over his shoulder and laughs. "Anyway sir, my companion and I are missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and we've come to your home to deliver a vital message for your salvation."

Now Emmett roars with laughter, almost doubles over with glee. You know what he's thinking. Remember the whole "lost" soul thing that freaked Edward out. Well Emmett's not buying it. And by the time he's through laughing, he's not alone at the door. Jasper has come to stand behind him and Rosalie at his side, Alice under his arm. Elder Moss sees Rosalie and forgets his name, where he came from and why he's standing at the door.

"Elder?" Emmett grins. By now Elder Green has returned to Elder Moss's side and their eyes are glued to Rosalie's face. Emmett's booming laughter rings through the rafters, but he grabs their arms and jerks them inside. "Welcome, boys. Won't you join us for dinner?"

Well I won't bother you with the "gory" details, but suffice it to say, the Elders are very persuasive. The entire family listens to their lesson including Edward and the new and improved Bella. Jacob and Nessie are there, so are Leah and Seth and Charley and Sue. The spirit of the Lord permeates the home filling them the answers they've been seeking their very, very, very long lives.

Anyway, cutting to the chase, they all get baptized, even the Indians at La Push who are delighted to read the Book of Mormon that tells about their "real" ancestors and everyone's happy.

They explain to Edward that it's not the heart that gives the body animation, it's the spirit. And the spirit and the body are the soul of a person. Edward is convinced that his soul is saved and he believes the Lord will forgive him for his indiscretions while he fought his nature. (Of course, we can't know that, but it makes a great story, right?)

Epolog: A general authority visits a stake conference in Tacoma and learns of the major baptism of Elder Moss and Green and he wants to meet the La Push families and the Cullen families. During their interview, this man gives them a blessing and they're freed from their dark night of torture. They all become human. Rosalie is ecstatic, Bella's mad and Jacob and Nessy are thrilled.

So here's the deal. It's the last scene in the Seattle temple. Everyone, well almost everyone from Forks is there. Carlisle and Esme are sealed, Emmett and Rosalie are sealed, Alice and Jasper, Edward and Bella, Jacob and Reneesme and Charlie and Sue are sealed. Then Reneesme is sealed to Edward and Bella, and Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper and Alice are sealed to Carlisle and Esme. Now there's not a dry eye in the temple--now that they can cry again. Elders Moss and Green are feeling like heroes of a Biblical epic.

Can't you just see that happening. Wow! What would be better than real immortality and Eternal Life. Could there be a better ending than that? I don't think so.

(Leave your kudos for my brilliant new novel in the comment area. Thanks.)

Weight -- Update!

As of September 26, 2008 - total weight loss = 101 pounds.

My Weight Watchers leader asked me what was the best part about losing 101 pounds. I told her it was "losing 101 pounds". What's sweeter than that? It took me a year to lose 31 pounds at the gym alone and seven months to lose 70 pounds with diet and exercise.

I don't know.
Can you tell a
difference?


















I spent the following Saturday morning remodeling some of my clothes. My good friend Monika gave me some fabulous blouses and dresses. One was a size 14/16. IT FIT!!! I also found a skirt that my tiny mother wore, and IT FIT!!! But all in all, having clothes that are much, much smaller and fit is only a side benefit of losing weight. My doctor just dropped my high blood pressure and my cholesterol and heart medications. I'm only on 1/2 of a blood sugar pills. (Refer back to one of my previous posts about the benefits of losing weight.)

People ask me all the time, where did you get your motivation. Like I've written before, there wasn't one single situation, event or idea that sparked my motivation. It was many things. It was mostly a matter of control. For the majority of my life, food was in control of me. It was my Lord and master. Now I'm the master, and I can eat what I want, when I want and stop when I'm satisfied. And that--is something I never thought I'd be able to do.

An excerpt from my one of my novels--

I have been asked by a couple of people to post a chapter from one of my books. This is the section of my fourth novel that really makes me cry. Just remember that this is the original, non-edited version so forgive the typos and grammatical errors. Also keep in mind that this is only my fourth attempt at writing a novel.

Enjoy the read.
Carol Malone


Running through the emergency doors that gaped wide open for her, she found the receptionist desk. By now her tears had streaked her face, her hair was tousled and her clothes looked like she had just awakened in them. “Where’s my husband?” She shouted, her face red with grief.

A sweet faced desk clerk smiled up at her running through her mind how many distraught women had come screaming in the hospital, full of anxiety and dread and demanding the same information. She put on a peaceful, empathetic smile and spoke slowly. “Calm down, ma’am. Just tell me who your husband is and we'll find out which room he's in.”

But Claire was not in a mood for pleasantries.

“Just tell me where Ty…Tyson Monroe was taken.”

The women checked her computer screen. “Right down the hall in intensive care unit. I believe the doctor is waiting to see you.”

“Thank you.” Claire muttered.

Walking through the inner swinging doors she saw a long faced man with grey sad eyes dressed in a doctor's white coat. He smiled tentatively as he watched her approach.

“Mrs. Monroe?”

“Yes.” Claire stammered. “Where’s my husband?”

“He’s resting right now.”

“What’s happened, doctor? What happened to my husband?”

“Let’s walk this way.” The doctor turned and bade her follow him. “I’m afraid, Mrs. Monroe that your husband has suffered a massive heart attack and the prognosis is not good.”

“No. No. No.” She shook her head. “This is not supposed to happen. He’s just so young. I’m the one who should be having the heart attack.” She turned to the doctor and gripped his arm. “Please tell me this is a mistake, a joke?”

He stopped at the door of a dimly lit room that smelled of antiseptic. “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Monroe. Your husband is very ill.” He pointed inside a room. "Please."

Walking into the gloom she struggled to acclimate her eyes. Then she saw Ty. He was lying propped against soft pillows, with tubes, monitors and wires covering his body. He was hooked up to a machine that had a little green line that pumped up and down with each labored beat of his heart. He looked pale and drawn and so lifeless that her heart dropped to her feet. She moved to his side and started to stroke his arm that was covered with wires. The doctor brought a chair to the side of the bed and placed his hands on her shoulders urging her to sit down. She obliged, never taking her hand from her husband’s.

“Can he hear me?” She whispered.

“I believe so.” The Doctor replied.

“Will he regain consciousness?”

“I don’t know.”

Looking up at the doctor again she sighed. “Can anything be done?”

“His heart has suffered tremendous damage. I don’t believe that he could survive an operation. It’s just a matter of wait and see. He needs time and he needs to know you’re here for him.” He turned from her. “I’ll be back in a minute. Is there anyone else you’d like us to call for you?”

“Yes, my son. I need to get in contact with my son. I didn't have time to do it before I left home.” She gave Nick's cell number to the doctor.

“I’ll have my nurse call him immediately. Is there anybody else?”

“Yes, our bishop…our congregation leader, Bishop Matt Hemsley. He’s in the book. I don’t know his phone number.”

“I’ll see to it right away.”

Claire continued to stroke Ty’s arm. He made no movement. He looked as though his spirit had already left him and that only the shell of the man was left. “No you don’t, Ty Monroe. You’re not going to leave me here. I can’t make it on my own. I need you. You come back here. Don’t leave me.” She started to weep as she laid her forehead against his arm drenching him with salted tears.

Hour after painful hour she waited by Ty's bedside. Her son Nick came and didn’t know what to do or say. She knew in his own way, Nick was suffering as well. Though Nick was not particularly close to his father as she would have liked, she realized it was because they were much too similar in character and temperament to be close. They seemed to challenge each other like two great stags with large antlers locked together in an eternal struggle for domination. She knew in her heart that Nick loved his father, even though he never said so. And that hurt. Somehow her son would have to deal with this tragedy on his own terms and in his own way, just as she was going to have to deal with it. But not yet!

The Bishop came with his first counselor and administered to Ty. But there was no promise of a recovery, no relief from Claire’s pain only a promise of peace. Claire’s harried mind couldn’t grasp the concept of peace. Was it for Ty? Was it for her? Would she have peace if Ty left her alone? Her mind raced over all the memories they shared together. The early years of their struggle and the labor of love it was to raise Nick, to this new passion that stirred both of their desires to write. She had to admit that through all the hard work, stress and strain, they had formed an attachment that was undeniably strong. That made it all the more hard to think about letting him go.

“Mom.” Nick stood beside her in the open doorway. “You need to get some fresh air. I’ll sit here with dad. Come on, you need to walk around.” He tried to help her up from the chair, but she was reluctant to move.

“What if he wakes up while I’m gone? I’d never be able to forgive myself if I didn’t get to talk to him one…last time.” A silent tear trailed down her cheek which she swiped at absently with the back of her hand.

“I’m come and find you immediately. The hospital’s not that big. They have a snack bar around the corner. I think it’s still open. Here.” He handed her some money. “Go buy yourself a candy bar and a soda.”

“You know I don’t eat that stuff.”

“You need your strength. The dining hall is closed.”
He tugged again on her arm raising her to her feet. Her knees didn’t want to straighten. “Oh,” she complained. “My knees are stiff.”

“All the more reason to walk around. Just walk up and down past the door way. I’ll come to the door if he wakes up.”

Moving gingerly to the door, she paused for a moment and watched Ty’s face. Nothing changed. Still the grey look of death hung on his face. “Where is he?” She sighed and walked from the room.

As she plodded heavily down the corridor of the intensive care unit, she thought of all the stories Ty loved to read about near death experiences. Was he having one of those experiences now? Where did his spirit go while his body lay in that awful gloomy room? Was he visiting with his mother who passed away two years ago? Was he meeting his maternal grandfather for the first time? Aunts, uncles, grandparents, all those people to meet and give his love to? His mother had been a family history fanatic. Was Ty with these people greeting them, being thanked by them for doing their temple ordinances? “Please send him back to me.” She cried. “I need him more than you do.”

Stopping at the vending machines, she chose orange juice and a granola bar. “Well at least these things are fairly healthy.”

“I don’t think anything you eat in this place is healthy.”
Claire jerked around at the sound of a familiar voice to see Brian Workman standing behind her. “Brian!” She stammered, feeling uneasy and just a bit angry that he wasn’t there sooner for Ty.

“I’m sorry Claire. They won’t let me come into the ICU, so I’ve been sitting out here waiting.”

“I’m glad you came.” She made her self say though there was no feeling in her voice.

“Would you like to sit for a minute?” Brian pointed to a couch in the waiting room and moved to sit down indicating the spot next to him.

She cook a chair opposite to him. “I don’t want to be too far from Ty’s room. He might wake up at any moment.”

“I understand.” He smiled faintly. “We’ll just talk right here for a few minutes.” He stood and walked to the vending machine, pushed the button and drew out a candy bar. Unwrapping the bar, he smiled up at Claire with a cautiously and returned to the couch. “I’m really sorry for what happened to Ty. It was all so sudden and unexpected. Had he complained of feeling poorly?”

“No. He seemed to be in perfect health.” Her mind ran over the last time he saw the doctor. “Well, he had a bout with high blood pressure, but he was on medication. We thought everything was alright.”

“You just don’t know how well the body is doing unless something major happens to cause you to stop and rethink the life you’re living. High blood pressure can be very tricky and very hard to detect and treat. I know I suffer from it myself. Having two small children at my age doesn’t help it either.”

Claire smiled but even his attempt at humor didn’t faze her. “How are your children?” She asked, absentmindedly look back down the hallway to the ICU doors. No movement, she sighed.

“They’re getting bigger and causing their father grey hairs.”

“That’s nice.” Claire nibbled on her granola bar. “And your wife?”

“She’s good. She works in the Primary as a den leader. My son is part of the den and just loves having his mother as the leader. She tries hard to make their activities fun and educational. She has a way of making the boys believe their having fun while still learning and accomplishing good things.”

“That’s nice.” Disinterested. She took another bite and shrugged her shoulders. "They wanted me to be the den mother when Nick was that age but I refused. I’m sorry now, though. He had a horrible scouting experience and I regret my decision terribly.”

“It’s hard work.” Brian laughed. “I usually come home to a major mess after each meeting.”

“Yes, boys are messy.” Looking again down the hall, Claire started to get an unsettling feeling and rose from her chair. “Brian if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to Ty’s room.”

“Of course. How is he doing?” Brian asked timidly.

“No change. The doctor is not hopeful.” Despair seized her heart as the tears sprang to her eyes. “What will I do if he dies?”

Not knowing exactly what to do, Brian moved off his couch and reached out to put his arm around her shoulder. She turned to him and let the tears fall on his shirt. He just held her and let her cry. After a couple of minutes passed, she gained a measure of composure and struggled to move away from him. “I’m sorry. I…I just…I better go. Thank you for your support.” Smiling weakly at Brian, she turned and walked back through the ICU double doors.

The ICU was quiet for the most part. The doors to the individual rooms stood half open allowing only the tiniest glimpse in the rooms. Just like Ty, other patients were hooked to monitors and tubes, all looking the same way. Colorless, lifeless, tired. Most were very old and looked frail as well. Claire remembered the last time they went to see Ty’s mother before they took her off life support. She had much the same look as her son. Tired, worn out and already gone. It had been a blessing to let her go. She would never have wanted to remain on earth in a state of diminished capacity. She was too full of life and nervous energy to sit idly by. So Ty and his father gave her a blessing and released her from his mortal life. She slipped peacefully away and left them here without her.

Claire stopped at the door of the room. There was little change on Ty’s face. He looked like a statue of some fallen war hero, just as hallow and just as empty as a statue. Nick saw her come back in the room and stood up quickly. Had he been holding Ty’s hand? Claire was sure of it. Somehow that simple act of a son holding the hand of his father gave her a moment’s comfort that nothing else could. She walked to Nick and took his hand in hers and pressed it against her cheek. “He loves you, you know. More than he would ever admit. He’s always loved you. He just didn’t know how to show that love. I’m sorry if you felt he wasn’t the kind of father you needed.”

Nick stared at her with those deep grayish blue eyes. Calm like the ocean just before a storm. “Mom, I never said dad wasn’t the kind of father I needed. We just never agreed on anything and I know I made him mad. My life hasn’t always been exemplary and my actions drove him up a wall. I hope he can forgive me for my sins. I don’t think he liked me very much. ”

“That’s not true, son. He loved you so much it just hurt him so bad to watch you make mistakes. He wanted to give you his testimony of the gospel, but he didn’t know how. He loved you in his way, just the way his own father had loved him. Love was implied, not so much spoken. Don’t ever think he didn’t love you with all his heart.”

“I won’t think that, mom. I do love him.” He turned to his father. “What are we going to do without him?” The sincerity in his voice made her touch his cheek.

“He’s not gone yet, dear. We need to have faith that he’ll get better.”

“Mom.” He wanted to disagree with her. To tell her she was delusional. That her religion was a load of BS, but he wouldn’t spoil her moment with his father. It may their last.

So he merely shrugged and agreed on principle. “Right.” Then he turned for the door. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Okay. I’ll stay with dad.” Claire sat down by the bed again and took Ty’s hand in hers. “I’m back darling. You can wake up and talk to me now.”

When Nick returned to the room, he sat in a lounge chair opposite to Claire and ate a candy bar, chips and drank a Coke. They both waited and worried and she prayed. Claire laid her head down on the bed next to Ty’s hand and sleep over came her. She was disturbed with dreams of being alone and unable to climb out of a deep canyon. She’d scratch at the slick muddy walls and fought for a foot or hand hold to be able to pull her self out of the blackness of the hole. The sky was clear above her. The sun was shining brightly sending down a shaft of light just out of reach of her hand. The pit was dark and ominously gloomy. Through her despair, she attempted to call out for Ty to come and save her, but no one came to the mouth of the large hole. Alone, frightened and cold, she shook. Suddenly someone stroked her hair and told her it would be okay. She felt a surge of peace even though she was still in the dark hole. Some one was there to bring her peace.

Slowly her eyes fluttered open and she looked up into Ty’s ghastly pale face. His meadow green eyes were open, but held no light; his hand was in her hair. Reality hit her hard as she tried to clear away the muddy gloom and look at her husband.

“Ty.” She smiled and whispered squeezing his hand.

His free hand came up and fought with the tube in his nose. Nick heard the noise and woke up. He stood up and helplessly watched his parents.

“No Ty, you must leave it in. It’s to help give you oxygen.” She rose from the chair and grabbed for his hand that was fighting with the tube. “Please Ty. Calm down.”

He was struggling to find his voice. “Claire,” it came out in a gargle of sound.

“Yes, darling. I’m right here.”

“Claire.” Now more clearly.

She fought desperately to hold the tears at bay. He was awake and alive and calling for her.

“I’m here Ty. Everything’s going to be okay.” She bent forward to kiss his ghastly pale cheek.

His other hand gripped her hair. “Claire.” His voice was almost normal. “I love you, Claire.” She watched his face as a single tear escaped his eye and ran slowly down his cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb.

“I love you too, Ty. Don’t talk now it’s going to be okay.”

“I have to talk now, sweetheart.” He chocked on his words. Coughing lightly the monitor began to beep wildly.

“Calm down.” She soothed. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”
The night nurse came running into the room and adjusted the light. She ran and checked the machines. “How are we feeling, Mr. Monroe?” She asked with a kind voice.

“He doesn’t like the oxygen in his nose.”

“No, but it makes it easier for him to breath.” She turned to Ty. “You must leave your tubes in your nose so you can breath. Do you understand me, Mr. Monroe?”

Ty nodded his head slowly. “Claire.”

“Yes darling. Don’t try to speak.”

“I have to speak. Where’s Nick?”

“I’m here dad.” Nick rose from the chair took his father’s other hand in his.

“Nick.” He coughed slightly making the monitor buzz. “I love you son.”

“I know dad.” Nick tried to act dispassionately and tried to fight back his own tears. “I love you too.”

Claire stared at her son. She couldn’t remember the last time Nick told his father that he loved him. It was breaking her heart to watch them. Years and years they spent disagreeing with each other, arguing for dominance. But in the hours of dying, Nick learned something so basic and so beautiful. Maybe his heart would be changed by this experience.

“Take care of your mother, son. She’s going to need your strength now more than ever.”

“Don’t talk like that dad. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Nick. Promise me you’ll look after your mother.” His voice was earnest, deathly calm.

“I will dad.” Tears raced down Nick’s face. “I’m going to miss you.” Nick bent over and placed his head on his father’s shoulder and wept uncontrollably.

“Claire.” He slowly turned to his wife. “I love you, Claire. You need to let me go now.”

“No Ty. No. I’ll never let you go. I need you. Don’t you leave me. I’ll never forgive you if you leave me.”

“They need me, Claire.”

“I need you, Ty.”

“Mother’s come to get me, Claire. You must let me go.” Ty looked beyond his wife at a blank wall as if someone stood there, waiting. Claire felt the need to curse.

“No I’ll never let you go. Please, please don’t leave me. Why can’t your mother wait for you?”

“She needs me Claire. My family needs me. You must continue to do family history and help my family.” Tears fell from his eyes onto his ashen cheeks. “I’m sorry I can’t stay with you any longer. I need to go Claire. Don’t ever stop writing. It will save you…” Coughing lightly, he eyes flickered. “Claire, I love you.”

“Oh, Ty. I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”

“Claire. I can’t stay, I have to go. Tell my family I love them and tell them mother sends her love, and your mom says not to worry.” He smiled and coughed. “I…I love you Claire.” With her name on his lips, he closed his eyes and the machines started beeping wildly while the green line on the monitor went flat.

This essay is an excerpt from a novel by Carol A. Malone of Camarillo, California and it copyrighted. Do not publish this piece or copy it for personal gain.

I Support Stephenie Meyer--(selfish reasons)!

Before I leave the Twilight saga obsession and return to more mundane topics like my own life, I thought I'd voice my own version of support for Stephenie Meyer. I only discovered the Twilight series during my summer vacation to Utah. I heard about them from a woman I visit teach here in Camarillo. She said she was reading a series of teenaged books about vampires and thoroughly enjoyed them. I only listened half heartedly wondering if she'd slipped a gear.

When I went to Utah, my nieces sang the praises of the Twilight books. Drooling in fact! I was curious, even went so far as to check them out at the Deseret Book clearance store on 109th south in Salt Lake City. But I'm on a strict budget and when I saw the books were not discounted even at the clearance center, I decided to wait.

Upon returning to Camarillo, I went about my business and then noticed all three books on sale at Target. Oh, joy, rapture! I work full time so it took me a week to read the first 3 books. And wouldn't you know, the very next day was the Saturday of the release of "Breaking Dawn". Could I have been more lucky than that? (Don't answer that.)

I fell in love with every character in the books from Bella and Edward to his brothers and sisters, parental figures, Jacob and Charley. I couldn't get down with Renee. She seemed flighty and more of child figure than a parent.

I wasn't too crazy about James, Victoria and the Volturi. But what would a good love story be without conflict, rejection, broken hearts and the anti-heroes. Good stuff! An emotion roller coaster. Magic!

Me--Similar to Stephenie?

My life is very similar to Stephenie's. I am and L.D.S. mom, however a little older than Stephenie. My 25 year old baby just moved out of the house a few weeks ago. I almost attended BYU. I opted for a local college. I adored English and American lit and love to write. In my youth, I wrote short stories and poems. And just like Stephenie I had a dream about a story I needed to write. It was about a young woman driving on the 15 freeway to Utah to marry a man she's never met in order to free her mother from a jam.

This year I completed that book and have written 3 others with starts of 4 more. It's unbelievable the freedom, the rush and the ecstasy of soaring in the clouds that comes from being able to put pen to paper, or in my case, fingers to keys. It's become my obsession, (next to Twilight), my passion and my release. I can't find enough time in my already overly booked day to write, but when I do, I'm totally blissed out, (as Bella would say).

Praise, adulation, jealousy?

Anyway, back to Stephenie and my original premise. What a marvelous talent this woman has! Don't you agree? A true proclivity to express in the written word awe-inspiring, magical stories that lead the reader on a journey of resplendent youthful romance, tragedy and ultimate triumph and unconditional love. Bravo, Stephenie Meyer! Bravo!

There are few books in the world that have inspired a greater love for the characters than what Stephenie has written for us. She truly has been endowed with creativity, ingenuity, a rare charisma and genius that few people have.

Stephenie has weaved a mesmerizing spell that has bewitched, charmed and captivated millions. God bless you Stephenie. Long may you live! I'm one of the enchanted Twi-Hards.

Midnight Sun - will it see the light of day?

I, like millions of her fans, was waiting with bated breath for the next installment of the Twilight series, Midnight Sun, which tells the Twilight story from the perspective of Edward. Though patience isn't one of my virtues, I was horribly stricken to learn that someone near and dear and trusted as a friend, illegally and unethically stole one of her copies of her manuscript and greedily posted it on the internet. What was the purpose of that? Do it bring this person fame and fortune or condemnation and disparaging remarks from Stephenie's legitimate and fiercely loyal fans?

Given the duress of betrayal that Stephenie was put under because of the actions of one close and trusted, Stephenie has decided to put the project on hold---indefinitely! Could this be a bigger tragedy to Twilight fans? Absolutely not! A million times no! It's like denying her fans the ability to breathe or function as normal human beings. Her fans are walking around zombie-like until we have the final installment of Edward's. I personally felt like I'd been sucker punched in the stomach. Unimaginable! Criminal! Without honor!

Gentle persuasion!

I would like to tell Stephenie, if she would ever feel to change her mind, don't stop writing in behalf of Edward. I'd like to remind her about a story of a young man that we both know intimately.

This young man had a "trusted" friend, one who worked with him, loved him and gave him money for a book project. When the manuscript was partially completed, this "trusted" friend begged the young man to show it to his doubting, jealous and skeptical wife. The friend begged, cajoled, and pleaded for a chance to show his wife the manuscript to prove to her he wasn't wasting his time or money.

Against his better judgment, the young man allowed his "trusted" friend to borrow the manuscript. He even went so far as to have him make a covenant with him and sign a promissory note for the return of it. He also made his friend promise to show it only to his caterwauling wife. However, to make a long, miserable story short, the "trusted" friend's wife misappropriated the manuscript, change the text and then lost it all together.

Can you image how the young man felt--Betrayed, desolate, deceived, and hurt? He was left with the feeling that he couldn't trust any one, not even his closest friends. His work, his time, and a promise to God to complete something that would rock the world, all stood at a crossroad.

But this young man persevered. He never went back, never started over but continued on from the point of the missing and stolen pages, realizing that they would be lost to the world forever. However, this same book that was completed has been read by tens of millions of people.


Please, Please, Please--I'm not too proud to beg!!!

Just like the young man in the story, please don't give up, Stephenie. Don't lose heart regarding Midnight Sun. Please don't disappoint your fans. Thousands, if not millions of people wish with all their hearts and offer a constant prayer that you will finish Edward's tale.

We know you have other projects and we look forward to them as well with great anticipation. But somewhere, somehow we hope you will find the time and the desire to complete Midnight Sun. Your fans will be eternally grateful if you do.

And I'm not so unselfish and self-sacrificing to admit that I'm among the most avid of people waiting on pins and needles for the completed work. Please finish Edward's tale in spite of the criminal and imbecilic acts of others. You deserve to triumph over adversity. And by golly, I just can't wait to read it!