Here we go kids (and Valery)...

It doesn't have a title. But I wrote it while working at Camp Loll this summer. And I like it.

The dense forest beckons,
like a whisper on the walls of heartland.
Captured souls not begging for release,
but for infinity, for endlessness;
for truth and beauty among the stars.
And they dance across the tree tops
as the sun sets over their place of capture,
their place of longing and desire,
of forbidden and untouched beauty.
And they believe in love,
for a land of such majesty
could not have been created without it.

Photo credit given to Nathan Triplett. Yeah. He really took this. At Camp Loll.
I didn't find it on google images or anything. He is a stud. Check him out here:
http://www.youtube.com/user/Mangalover20

**Also, "walls of heartland" comes from the Greenday song "Last of the American Girls". I must give credit where credit is due. I just taught 5th graders about plagiarism. It's against the law.

Portage is a pretty little town

Walking through the Portage, Utah cemetery was humbling and emotional, as all cemeteries usually are for me. I remembered coming to this cemetery once previously for my great-uncle’s funeral; however, that day was filled with sadness and grief at the loss of a loved one. This time, the cemetery seemed different. Flowers of all kinds adorned almost all the headstones, and wind chimes blew from under a nearby pine tree. A few other people were scattered throughout the small plot of land, each paying their respect to their loved ones, just as we had come to do. I watched my grandma as she tenderly stood over the grave of her parents – her expression solemn while she remembered their lives. Other graves were visited, other lives remembered, and more flowers were placed with respect on top of the deceased. After arranging the last bundle of flowers next to my great-great-grandmothers headstone, the song of the meadowlark drifted through the air, “Portage is a pretty little town”. Two, three more times came the bird’s simple tune, “Portage is a pretty little town”. And I laughed into the wind! Not because it was funny, but because it was beautiful! All the mixed emotions that had been running through me that day were evaporated by one simple tune, “Portage is a pretty little town”, and I was left with only pure joy and the beautiful song of the meadowlark forever in my heart. 

Acceptance

One day, you are at a meeting for scout camp. You're talking and laughing with people you love. Then you're driving home from Ogden, and somehow, your friend miraculously ends up right behind you on the highway. And then you are at home and your mother is on the phone with your panicked grandmother. And then you are at the hospital telling that same panicked grandmother that her husband (your loving grandfather) is gone. And then you are driving back to Logan for school, but you're crying so hard that you can barely see the road. And once you are back in Logan, you can't even go to your classes because the grief and sadness is all consuming. And then a week goes by and you're standing next to your grandfathers casket - saying goodbye to one of the best people you've ever known in your whole life. And you can't stop crying because you're sad and because everyone around you is crying. And you can't remember the last time that you weren't crying. And then a month goes by and you don't even realize it. And your dad wears your grandpa's old suit to church. And you spend the hardest night of your life with your now widowed grandmother in her now much emptier home. And life has gone on. You've paid the bills, passed three exams, and written too many papers to count. And the next day you go to Institute and your teacher has everyone in the room write the name of a loved who has passed away on the white board. And you watch a movie about Jesus Christ and the Atonement. And you're crying again. And the end of the movie shows people in heaven touching Christ's hands and smiling because they are happy! And then you realize that your beloved grandfather is among them - the happy, smiling people surrounding Christ. And you can finally stop crying because you know that your grandfather is happy and that someday, you - and all of the people you love - will join your grandfather among the happy, smiling crowd at Christ's side.

I eat chalk

I got to use my brand new carabiner last Wednesday when I went rock climbing with Steve Houston (who, by the way, is an awesome rock climber)! It was so exciting! And my carabiner is awesome. And so is Steve. Okay.

Don't worry, I don't really eat chalk. One of my high school English teachers does, though... However, I do draw with chalk! Instead of spending Saturday in solitary confinement, I spent it lounging in the sun and drawing with chalk along side my roomie (I would have said, "along side Allie", but that could get confusing) and a million other people in our ward. SIDE NOTE: Allie and I (see, confusing!) participated in Relay for Life Friday night(forward slash)Saturday morning (5:30 pm - 8:00 am). And back to chalk: So, there was this huge group of us just hanging out in the sun and drawing with chalk. It was like I was five again! Except... I guess college students are more artistical (is that even a word?) than five year olds. Okay, the whole reason I'm writing about chalk is because I drew a super cool picture (except, it's more of a design... or something). And I already know how un-humble and vain I am about it... I also already know that un-humbleness and vanity are not good qualities. Trust me - I'm working on those. Well, without further adieu.... 

PS: it rained THAT NIGHT(forward slash)and the next day and it washed all the chalk away! In honor of the rain, I give you...

  The Beauty of Rain

Slipping down the mountains, hills, and roofs - 

forever and ever, down and down,

cascading into the unknown.

Each one landing where none has before.

They fall, and this is the beauty of flight.

Every drop bouncing gracefully onto the pavement,

mimicking its brothers.

The slide with practiced ease over the rough surface

until coming in contact with each other.

They dance, and this is the beauty of movement.

Landing on trees, cars, and tongues - 

creating their own personal rhythm and voice.

Each unique sound coming together

in an unwritten symphony of whispers.

They sing, and this is the beauty of rain.

**I wrote that bad boy for a creative writing assignment in high school.

Oh, after we drew with chalk, we went to Angie's and cleaned TWO sinks. You want to know something funny? There were SEVEN of us that went to Angie's - FOUR girls and THREE boys. The girls were as follows: Allie, Ali, Jessi, Jessi! (That's how we were sitting and everything!). Isn't that funny? PS: I look awesome (which is secret code for horrible (just keep in mind that I had been drawing with chalk right before this)) in both of those pictures. But how I look is not the point. The point is that we cleaned TWO sinks. After we ate two plates of nachos. Yeah, deliiish.

The Five Stages of Grief

Sleep has become an impossibility. It's the one time during the day that I don't have anything to distract me. Memories of my now late grandfather consume me and I am racked with pure grief. I try to pull myself together long enough to get at least a few decent hours of rest, however, when that finally happens, my unconscious is completely enveloped by scenes of death and fear. When I'm laying in bed, undistracted by room mates and school work, that is the only time this seems real to me. It's the only time I actually realize that my beloved Grandpa is gone.

~*~

Psychology tells us there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, and acceptance. Denial is something I understand; it's something I felt during the first few hours of his death. It's something I continue feel when I see pictures of him - so alive, so well. Denial is my favorite of the five stages. It's the one emotion that makes me feel better. If I'm able to convince myself that it isn't real, then I can make it through each day. Denial doesn't work at night though. No, bed time is when Anger comes in. Anger towards the doctors who couldn't save him; anger towards God for taking him away from me; anger towards my Grandmother for wishing she could've gone with him. Anger towards myself for not being able to control anything - not even my own emotions.

I can't bring myself to bargain with God for my Grandpa's life. It makes me feel cheap - like I didn't do enough while he was still here to keep him here; like I know that it is already too late to work - or maybe I'm just afraid that it really will. Bargaining makes me realize all the things I regret - all the things I feel guilty about - like not making sure he knew that I loved him; like breaking promise after promise to spend the weekend with him and my Grandma; like moving away to go to school when I could've been here spending time with him.

Luckily, the extent to which I am sad more than makes up for my lack of bargaining. The sadness is all consuming. I think that denial, sadness, and anger go hand in hand. Right after I convince myself that he's not gone, I realize that he is. Sadness is the reason I can't sleep. The emotion engulf's me to the point that I can't breathe or move or do anything other than lay there and cry - and then I get so angry at myself because I can't stop crying. All I want is acceptance. All I need is acceptance.

Acceptance is the Mother Land. It's the one stage that I don't cycle through day after day. I want to be done denying his death. I want to be done being angry at everyone for stupid reasons. I want to be able to control my own emotions again. I want to be done being sad. I want to be done crying myself to sleep night after night. I want to accept the fact that my Grandfather is gone. Not forever. No, not forever - just for now.

Tonight and tomorrow morning, I will be attending the viewing and funeral services for one of the best men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Perhaps after tomorrow, acceptance will come a little easier.

Charles Ray Hancey (1925 - 2011)

OGDEN - Charles Ray Hancey, 85, died Saturday, March 19, 2011, of causes incident to age.

He was born May 8, 1925, in Hyde Park, Utah, to Florence and Leander Hancey. As one of 11 children at the family home, he was not a stranger to hard work. His earliest job was herding cows with the help of his dog, Token, and helping to grow much of the food for his family. Though a lifelong resident of Ogden, Cache Valley was always home.

Along with two brothers, he was drafted into the United States armed services and served honorably in the Navy during World War II in the South Pacific. He was one of the "Greatest Generation" to love his country and fight for peace. His service to the United States continued as a civil servant working for the Internal Revenue Service for 33 years.

Chuck loved all sports but was especially fond of playing, coaching and watching baseball. He took great pride in his careful, manicured yard and garden. Despite some recent serious health issues, he always had hope for the future as was evident in the flowers seeds he ordered just a few days before his passing and the hundreds of tulips, daffodils and crocus planted last fall that are just now emerging.

He was a lifelong and faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and served with absolute honesty and integrity in many ward and stake financial clerk positions. Most recently, Elder and Sister Hancey served as missionaries in the genealogy department in Salt Lake City. His posterity would all agree his greatest church service was as a husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather and patriarch to the family he cherished. "When such a father from us departs, we hold forever in our hearts - a sweet and hallowed memory, bringing us nearer, Lord, to thee."

On Feb. 8, 1952, he married his eternal companion, Zona Allen, in the Logan LDS Temple.

The eternal legacy of love and family he started lives on in his wife, Zona; children, Shauna (Dave) Christiansen, Ogden; Jana (Craig) Manscill, Lindon; LaRaun (Dave) Nielsen, Harrisville; Heidi (Lyle) Bauer, Calgary, Canada; Chad (Tracy) Hancey, Layton; 28 grandchildren and 23 great-grandchildren.

He is also survived by his brother, Maurice Hancey, and sister, LaFaye (Wayne) Bankhead; two brothers-in-law, Jim Morgan and NaRae Ormond; and three sisters-in-law, Pat Hancey, Rosalie Hancey and Jackie Hancey.

He was preceded in death by his parents, three brothers, five sisters and twin granddaughters.

Funeral services will be held Friday, March 25, at 11 a.m. at Rock Cliff 2nd Ward Chapel, 1000 Suncrest Drive, Ogden.

Family will meet friends at Lindquist's North Ogden Mortuary, 2140 N. Washington on Thursday from 6 to 8 p.m. and Friday at the Ward Chapel 9:45 to 10:45 a.m.

Interment, Lindquist's Memorial Gardens of the Wasatch, 1718 Combe Road, South Ogden where Military Honors will be accorded by the Combined Veterans Honor Guard.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests financial donations be made to Primary Children's Medical Center.

Send condolences to the family at: www.lindquistmortuary.com.

In these next couple of days, we will not be mourning his death; we will be celebrating his life and his legacy.

I love to see the temple.

Attention, attention everyone: I just got a carabiner for my ATC. A real life, hard core, locking carabiner. I am now well on my way to having a full rock climbing equipment collection. Did I mention how excited I am about my carabiner? I was in Ogden with my dad and he told me I could choose between getting ice cream and going to the new rec. store. Yeah, guess what I chose? If you are ever in Ogden (which I always spell O-d-g-e-n...) you must stop by Recreation Outlet. It's this new hip recreation store. It's on the street above Grant Street and south of the Ogden LDS temple. I also got a free key chain carabiner with the purchase of my real life, hard core, locking carabiner. Seriously. Check. It. Out. The store, I mean... and my carabiner. PS. There is a guy who works there and he is from New Zealand. And that makes the store infinitely cooler. 

Speaking of the Ogden temple - I went there today with my dad. It was kind of like, coming home. I didn't realize before today how much that temple means to me. And now, in just a couple weeks, it's going to be torn down and rebuilt with more modern fashion. If anybody wants to get married in the Ogden temple before the first week of April, let me know. I'll marry you. 

So, I've come to the conclusion that my little brother has more of a social life on school nights than I have during the weekend... or while I'm on Spring break. Seriously, he was out with his friends until 11:30-ish tonight and I was home making cupcakes. That's basically all I do these days - make cupcakes. My BFFLBWASH, Kaleigh (who can play guitar hero on expert, as I found out tonight), was with me - but we've known each other so long that she doesn't really count toward me having a social life. I used the same recipe that I used last time, but I made cream cheese frosting this time. I'm normally not a huge fan of cream cheese frosting, but this stuff was good. I kind of feel like Martha Stewart now... 

Cream cheese frosting recipe:

Ingredients (Makes about 2 cups)

•         8 ounces cream cheese
•         8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
•         2 cups confectioners’ sugar, sifted
•         2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Directions

1. Place cream cheese in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Beat on medium speed until smooth. Add butter, and beat until fluffy.

2. Reduce speed to low; gradually add sugar, and continue beating until light and fluffy. Add vanilla, and mix to combine.

***Also, you should probably refrigerate it before you use it. Maybe that's a common and well known fact among cream cheese frosting fans... but I didn't know that. AND the cupcake recipe can be found here: http://alihancey.blogspot.com/2011/01/welcome-to-my-friday-night.html

So I'm watching Sahara right now. I seriously love this movie. The book is much better, I'll admit that, but as far as books-turned-movies go, this one is pretty good. And now, I'm going to leave you all with some quotes from my favorite part:

Dirk: Al, did you bring any of the the explosives from the cars?! (whatever)

Al: Couldn't find um'!

Dirk: Al!

Al: Didn't have time!

Dirk: Al!

Al: Of course I brought the explosives!

Advocate For Life

I was head-butted by a four year old today. I cried - she didn't. I'm pretty sure I was crying from laughing so hard (right in the middle of sacrament meeting), but I'm not 100% positive... Also, I cut my finger tip open with scissors last night. It was weird. I knew that I was bleeding, but I had to literally stop and think about what I was supposed to do to stop it. You'd think after watching all 6 seasons of Grey's Anatomy in a month and a half, I'd know right off the bat to put pressure on it... Like I said, it was weird.

You want to know something pretty cool? In 2007, my dad anonymously donated one of his kidneys (he did end up meeting the recipient). In 2009, I wrote a poem about it for a creative writing assignment. And now, in 2011, my dad's inspiring story AND my poem are going to be published in a book about organ donation. I'm a pretty big advocate for organ donation and to this day, what my dad did amazes me. The recipient, Melanie, and her mother, Kris, are from Australia. In 2008, when I was a mere 16 years old, I was able to go to Australia and spend a month with Kris. It was an amazing experience and I met amazing people down there. It was amazing to see all the lives that my dad had changed by donating his kidney to Melanie. I was  introduced to everyone as, "Ali, daughter of the donor".

It messes with my formatting if I try to add captions to the pictures, so I gave up on that. The top right picture is of my cousin Alysha, me, and Kris at Byron Bay on Kris' birthday. The bottom right picture is of Alysha, Franko, and I at Byron Bay. Franko worked with Kris and he was kind of like our Austalian dad. The bottom left is a picture of Melanie and Kris. And the top right... yeah, I just like peacocks. Also, my parents donated their truck to Kidney Cars. I guess there are a number of ways that that helps fight kidney disease. I posted a couple of links below. The first one is a link to the Kidney Cars website (if you are interested in that). The second is a link to my dad's story about his experience donating a kidney. It's kind of long but so inspirational and so worth it. The third is a link to my poem... which is posted on this blog (November, 2010).

http://www.kidney.org/support/kidneycars/donation.cfm

http://uradvocate4life.comxa.com/index.php?p=1_8

http://alihancey.blogspot.com/2010/11/kidney-shaped-cuff-links.html