Looking into my Wife-To-Be’s Eyes for the First Time

We met and then our eyes caressed as if we’d met before.
My fingers touched so lightly yours and longed to touch once more.
They said your name and yet these were just empty sounds to me,
For I had known you eons gone by, in some lost century.
But while we stood and murmured words that seemed both old and new
I smiled and gazed into your eyes and was aware… You knew!

By Mae Hirschson

My Wife

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The best thing about me is my wife, TerriLu!

I know she is not perfect, but she is perfect for me!

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Parenting and Grandparenting

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The trouble with being a parent is that by the time you are experienced, you are usually unemployed.

(Author Unknown)

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That’s why it is so much fun to be a grandparent! (WERIII)

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Judging Others – Character and Personal Merits

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It is said that the poet, Robert Burns, was once walking along one of the main streets of Edinburg, in company with a titled aristocrat, when Burns turned to an old friend who was passing by. The old man was roughly and commonly dressed. The poet greeted the old man with evidence of great friendship and affection. A moment later, walking along with his aristocratic acquaintance, the haughty aristocrat expressed surprise that Burns would condescend to speak with such a common person as the old man they had just passed. Burns replied, “Sir, I spoke to the man, not to his coat. If he and we were placed on the scales to ascertain our own respective merits, that man would easily outweigh the both of us.

His Words Were Few and Far Between

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(I have a propensity to talk too much. That is, I talk incessantly. I repeat myself and say things three times to try to make sure that anyone I talk to understands what I am trying to say. It’s annoying to others and even now to me since I recognize it as a problem. For that reason, I’ve always appreciated the following poem. I wish I knew the name of the author so I could give credit where it is due. I may have seen it in an old Dear Abbey column).

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His words were few and far between
And never formed to glisten.
Yet he was a joy to all his friends;
You should have heard him listen.

Oh, Jeremy, Please Go Away!

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(Ricks College 1976 – not for a writing class – William E. Ross III)

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“Oh, Jeremy, please go away! I haven’t got the time today.
I’ve more important things to do, than wasting precious time with you.
One day soon I’ll make some time, to leave this valued work of mine.
I’m much too busy – the hours run few. Tomorrow I’ll spend the day with you.”

Through the window I watched you go, across the lawn with head hung low
I almost called you back to me, but selfish pride cried, “Let him be.”
In the street you trudged along. The Spirit whispered, “There’s something wrong!”

Then screeching tires, your muffled cry. I have no reason to ask God why.
Through tear-filled eyes you could not see, the car that took your life from me
I’d ask just one more chance to be, the loving mother you’d want of me.
Unfulfilled my time now runs. Your promised “tomorrow” never comes.

You’re Passionate

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(Asimov Laughs Again, Isaac Asimov, page 120, joke 173.)

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At the captain’s party, a rather elderly woman had over imbibed with liquor that was being dealt out with a lavish hand by the bartender, and a young officer was detailed to get her back to her stateroom. He placed his arm about her waist, held her elbow firmly with his other hand, and began to march her down the corridor.

She said, with a faint hiccup, “You’re passionate.”

He said, “Ma’am, I’m just trying to get you to your room.”

She repeated, “But you’re passionate!”

“Ma’am,” he said, “I’m a happily married man and under orders. I am only
interested in escorting you to your room.”

“But my room is back there,” she said. “You’re pashin’ it.”

 

South Africa is One Hell of a Country

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(While attending BYU-Provo, I gave this speech in my Communications class on February 2, 1981. Being a religious school, swear words are frowned upon at BYU, but in an introduction to a speech to catch the attention of the audience, I used a word that in South Africa is less harmless than “heck” so I figured it would be fine.)

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INTRODUCTION

South Africa is one hell of a country and you will just have to excuse that expression because in South Africa “hell” is not a swear word – it’s more like heck. Even from the pulpit in Church, the bishop will say, “We had a hell of a ward party Friday night! We wish all could have been there.”

Actually, there are many things you need to get used to when you go to the fascinating land of South Africa.

BODY

[Specific purpose: To explain and inform audience about some interesting points of South African culture].

As its name implies, the Republic of South Africa is located at the southern part of Africa. The population of the country consists of 20 million blacks and only 5 million whites. However, as of 1976, the whites ruled the country and apartheid or separateness was still a major part of the culture. The blacks are not like the African American blacks.  Intellectually and culturally, the blacks are behind and/or different from whites. Some African or black languages, such as Zulu, Xhosa, Bantu, and others, do not even include words to express geometric shapes, electronics, or philosophical concepts. The blacks are poor and humble people. A day’s pay for a black person may be just three dollars. Ten blacks may live as a family in one small hut.

An interesting feature of South Africa is the languages used among the whites which is comprised of 60 percent Afrikaans, 35 percent English, British style not American English, and 5 percent mix of many other languages. Afrikaans is a simplified version of Dutch mixed with a lot of British English mixed in and some German. When the Dutch explorers settled in the Cape Province, Afrikaans evolved so the Dutch and the British could communicate. While Afrikaans is fairly easy to learn, it is sometimes difficult because many words have similar pronunciation yet vastly different meanings, similar to American English.

Take vertrek and uittrek as examples. At a baptism for an Afrikaans-speaking convert, my companion, Elder Brockbank, baptized the young woman using the memorized Afrikaans translation for the ordinance. I followed by confirming her in Afrikaans (much more difficult than reciting a memorized set of words). The new Elder who was to say the closing prayer decided to join us and demonstrate his Afrikaans mastery. In the prayer, he said, “Seen ons soos wat ons uittrek.” The greeny  (groentjie) new missionary meant to say, “Seen ons soos wat ons vertrek.” “Vertrek” means “depart”. “Uittrek” means “undress.” So the English translation was, “Bless us as we undress” when he meant to say, “Bless us as we depart.” That raised a few eyebrows.

I made the mistake once of asking a man if he was the moon of the home. Near Cape Town in Bloubergstrand (BlueMountainBeach/Seashore) with a spectacular view of Table Mountain across Table Bay… Me talking to the chap in the doorway (translation to follow): “Is u die maan van hierdie huis?” “Ekskuus?” “Is u die maan van hierdie huis?” “Ekskuustog?!” “Is u die maan van hierdie huis?!” In desperation I look at my companion. Elder Stewart casually takes over. “Is u die man van hierdie huis?” “Ja.” “Ek en my metgasel is sendeling van Die Kerk van Jesus Christus van die Heiligus van die Laaste Dae On het a kort boodskap. Mag ons inkom om dit met u te deel?” “Nee.” “OK. Totsiens.” (“Are you the moon of this home?” “Pardon me?” “Are you the moon of this home?” “Pardon me?!” Elder Stewart finally, “Are you the man of this home?” “Yes.” “I and my companion are missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We have a short message. May we come in to share it with you?” “No.” “Okay. See you later.”) As we walk away, I question my trainer in English, “Why didn’t he understand? What was wrong with him?” Elder Stewart drawled as he scrawled the report in the tracting book, “Well, first of all, Elder, you asked him if he was the ‘moon’ of the home.” I contended that I hadn’t. Elder Stewart gently explained my pronunciation problem. Man (adult male) is pronounced with a short “a” as in “nun”. Moon (the one in the night sky) is pronounced “mawn” (almost like “lawn”). As I grumbled and mumbled and stumbled on our way, I still unsympathetically felt like the ‘moon’ in the doorway should have recognized my American accent and should have been able to make the leap from ‘moon’ to ‘man’. Then I tried everything in English at my home: If someone asked me at my door in America, “Are you the moon of the home?” it might take a few minutes but without prompting I determined that even I was capable of making the translation from ‘moon’ to ‘man’ especially with the foreign missionary’s foreign accent.

South African English is similar to British English, both of which are quite different from American English. I used to write home, “Hey, Mom! I’m learning English!” A chap or a bloke in South Africa is a guy or a dude in the United States. Sweets in South Africa are candy in the United States. A serviette in South Africa is used at the dinner table and in the United States we call it a napkin. In South Africa is what an unpotty-trained baby wears on her bottom so when a missionary having dinner with some investigators says, “I need a new napkin” means he soiled the diaper he’s wearing. The family gets a big laugh at the missionary’s expense. In the United States the car has a trunk at the back and in South Africa the boot of the car while the hood of the car in the United States covers the engine, but in South Africa it’s called a bonnet. In South Africa kids bunk school and in the United States kids skip school. A rubbish bin in South Africa is a wastebasket in the United States. A duster is an eraser for a chalkboard in South Africa, but we just call it an eraser or a chalkboard eraser in the United States. And be careful – a rubber is an eraser on the non-pointy end of a pencil in South Africa while a rubber in the United States is a condom and the eraser on the not-pointy end of a pencil is just a plain, old eraser in the United States. Anticlockwise is counter clockwise. To pinch something is to steal something. Ta is thanks. A torch is a flashlight. A geaser is a water heater. A bathing costume is a bathing suit. In South Africa, you hold thumbs while in the United States you cross your fingers for luck. In South Africa the OB/Gyn catches the baby while the mother delivers it – in the United States the doctor delivers the baby and I suppose the mother just gets credit for pushing. And the list goes on and on.

You never say, “Can I use your bathroom?” because the bathroom is a room separate from the toilet. The bathroom has a bath and a sink and no toilet. The toilet room has the toilet. So you have to learn to say, “Can I use your toilet?” Slang terms for the toilet are jazz, Lou, water closet, or W.C. In American English, we have our own slang terms for the bathroom or toilet room such as the John, powder room (where women and now men, put on their makeup) latrine, outhouse, lavatory, sandbox, or whatever.

One time while we were tracting door to door, Elder Shipley said he needed to go to the bathroom. I reminded him that in South Africa you say, “I need to use the toilet” because the toilet is a small room, almost a closet, next to the room that has the bathtub and the sink. The room with the bathtub is called the bathroom. Elder Shipley was still too embarrassed to use the word “toilet.” We continued tracting and got to the DeKok’s house where we had placed a copy of The Book of Mormon a few days earlier. As we were about to sit down in the living room, I pointed to Elder Shipley and bluntly asked Mrs. DeKok, “Can he use your toilet?” Elder Shipley looked over at me like I’d lost my marbles, right there, all over Mrs. DeKok’s living room floor. His eyes got big and he turned beet red. “Sure,” Mrs. DeKok said without the least bit of embarrassment. “Right this way.” Elder Shipley followed, but he looked back with his eyes squawking, “I can’t believe you actually said that!” which is quite a bit for two eyes to say when the bladder associated with the same body as the eyes is otherwise full. Later, after we left the home, he told me the rest of the embarrassing story. As Mrs. DeKok was leading him down the passage (hallway) a very cute teenage daughter appeared. “Henrietta,” said the mom, “would you show this nice young man where the toilet is?” And the cute, perky girl bobbed her head up and down and chirped, “Sure I will.” Elder Shipley turned even redder as Henrietta showed him to the toilet. He went in and took care of his business and then exited the toilet. He knew he should turn off the light but there were five switches on the outside wall. He tried the first one and saw under the bathroom door that the light went out. Henrietta shrieked in the dark bathroom. Elder Shipley quickly flipped the same switch back on. He tried another switch and it turned off the light in the passage. On his third try he turned off the light in the toilet. He was still red when he returned to the living room. In spite of that embarrassing experience, we got along great–he was one of my favorite companions. 

South Africa has some interesting customs and traditions. South Africa is a very religious country. Nearly all white South Africans go to church on Sunday. There is very little pornography because the conservative government, which is heavily influenced by the Dutch Reformed Church, simply won’t allow it. All movies are carefully censored. The semi-raunchy “girlie” magazine Scope has a centerfold of a girl in a fairly modest bikini. Fifty percent of the whites belong to one of the three Dutch Reformed Churches. And as missionaries we called the Dutch Reformed Church the Much Deformed Church and they called us much worse.

Proper etiquette is very important, much more so than in the United States. You can blow your nose often and loudly, but never sniffle, even quietly. You use a knife and fork to cut everything on your plate and you eat off the backside of the fork, like the people of England do. You don’t yawn or stretch in public – it’s just plain rude.

Kids all wear school uniforms (public and private schools) and the uniform includes a necktie for both girls and boys. Also, if a girl’s hair is long enough to cover her ears, she must wear her hair in a pigtail or in braids.

Swear words are different. Hell and damn are fine – they are like heck and darn in the United States. Bugger off and bloody are horribly offensive. I can say them here in the U.S. because they are not the least bit odious to us. During a door approach, an angry man told us to bugger off. Many missionaries use the word crap which is much worse than the “S” word. Crap has nothing to do with excrement. Yet American missionaries toss the word crap around like it’s no big deal.

CONCLUSION

Just one visit to South Africa will certainly convince you that South Africa is one hell of a country!

Mrs. Dykstra at Everett High School

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The day after high school graduation described in the next blog when I did a back flip in the air after receiving me diploma, I was sitting on the floor in the second level hallway of the main building, signing yearbooks with other students. Mrs. Adelaide Dykstra, a curmudgeonly old mathematics teacher, walked up to me. I had never had a class from Mrs. Dykstra, but had heard from many students who had that she was of the old school and did not put up with any shenanigans. She was mean, but it was fair because she was mean to everybody!

She stopped right in front of me with a extra stomp of her shoe and asked indignantly, “Mr. Ross, did that silly, immature little stunt you pulled last night add to your dignity?”

I looked up from the book I was signing, and shrugged, “I don’t know know how much dignity I lost or gained, Mrs. Dykstra, but it sure was fun.”

She harrumphed loudly, spun on her one-inch flat heel, and stomped off to teach some class.

What did I care what she thought? I already graduated!
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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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Several months earlier in my senior year, the Vice Principal, in charge of discipline, Mr. Ernie Dire, called me to his office, which always meant you were in trouble for something.

“Hi, Mr. Dire. Why am I in here?” I asked in total innocence

“You know why!” he snapped.

“No, actually, Mr. Dire. I really don’t have a clue.”

“You know what you did?”

“No, I don’t.”

“…this morning?

“…first floor?

“…main building?

“…the door?

“…north entrance?”

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Dire. Your clues ain’t ringing no bells.”

“Aren’t ringing any bells.”

“I know. I’m just doing to your chain what your doing to mine.”

“ ‘You’re’ doing, not ‘your’ doing.”

“How can you tell that when I’m speaking not writing the words?”

“Because I know everything!”

“I guess I need to become a vice-principal so I can be a god.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Bill! A teacher saw you do it!”

“Which teacher saw me do what?”

“Bill, you are only making this worse for yourself. It would be better if you just admitted what you did instead of lying about this?”

“Mr. Dire, I’m not lying about anything. What exactly did I do, according to this teacher?”

“You jumped up and grabbed the hydraulic pump and bar on the door, and swung on it until you broke it.”

“So when did I commit this crime?”

“Quit playing with me, Bill!”

“No. I really want to know when this took place.”

“It was around 7:45am, just before first period.”

“So my alibi that I was up on the third floor north end with a bunch of kids who saw me before we all went into science class for first period probably won’t help.”

“No, Bill. It won’t. A teacher, a member of this school’s staff, saw you with her own eyes? She knew your name, your dark hair, your short height, and your letterman’s jacket.”

“So it was a woman. Did she have her glasses on?”

“Don’t be a smart aleck!! Either you tell me that you did it or I will go get the teacher.”

“Hey, why don’t we just go see her right now!”

“You want to go see her face to face right now?” he asked with surprise.

“Yes, immediately, if not sooner.”

“Have it your way, Bill. It’s your funeral.”

“Could I ask the nice, lady teacher who knows me so well to give the eulogy?”

“You’re only getting yourself in deeper, Bill.”

We got up from our seats and headed out of his office, with Mr. Dire just bit incredulous with my attitude.

We went down from the second floor to the first floor and headed to a classroom I had never been in before. Mr. Dire opened the door and there was the infamous Mrs. Dykstra. Since I knew of her and even knew her name, I extended my right hand and said, “Hello, Mrs. Dykstra. I’m Bill Ross.”

“No you’re not!” she replied curtly.

“Yes, I am.”

No, you’re not.”

I turned to Mr. Dire for backup. Backpedaling, Mr. Dire, squawked, “You mean this isn’t the boy who broke the door?”

“No, Bill Ross broke the door. I’ve never seen this hooligan in my life.”

Mr. Dire quietly excused us so Mrs. Dykstra could get back to teaching mathematics, and he and I made our way back up the flight of stairs. On the way, a subdued and humbled Mr. Dire kept profusely apologizing for the mix up and said Mrs. Dykstra was so certain with the dark hair and my short stature and the jacket, what could he do?

First, I thought there must be at least seven dark-haired, vertically-challenged, letterman-wearing, extremely-handsome thugs in a school of 1,600 students (sorry, I added the extremely-handsome). Then I kindly suggested that Mr. Dire could take a chance and actually believe a student’s word.

Graduation from Everett High School 1976

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Most commencement ceremonies are rather boring because the many graduating students must individually receive their diplomas. At my high school graduation, however, I felt a great deal of excitement because I anxiously awaited my chance to “do my thing.”

As I watched my fellow classmates walk across the stage and receive their diplomas, I went over in my mind how I planned to culminate my high school years. My thoughts were occasionally interrupted by shouts from the students in the audience as their best friends’ names were announced. The nicknames and “sound effects” that peppered the Everett Civic Auditorium, seemed to brighten up the dull atmosphere created by the repetitiousness of presenting the diplomas. Several graduates tossed their caps into the air while others yelled, “Hi, Mom!”

When my row stood up to go forward, my heart began to beat faster. I felt a tingling sensation throughout my body as I walked with my row to the stage. While standing in line while those students before me were announced, I noticed my hands trembling slightly.

And then my turn came. The principal’s voice announced to the audience the name of William Edward Ross III, and I proceeded to walk across the stage to accept my diploma from the superintendent of the school district. The students were aware of what I was planning to do because I did it during the practice the day before. The shouts from the audience did not register with me; my attention was focused only on what I was about to do. After the superintendent shook my hand and gave me my diploma, I started to walk away as everyone else had done. Then came the moment I had so anxiously waited for. I removed my cap and placed it with my diploma on the table where the remaining diplomas were waiting to be handed out. I then threw my hands up, tucked my body, and did a back somersault in the air. When I completed my flip, and me feet hit the floor, the auditorium erupted with applause and the audience gave me a standing ovation.

Then, I calmly put on my cap and walked off the stage with diploma firmly in hand – just like everyone else.

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Teacher’s Notes: Wow! The grade is for your accurate writing, not your childish theatrics. Grade: A