Do we learn from history?

John Quincy Adams (eerily similar to John McCain?)


I came into this presidential election with excitement for new candidates and a renewed sense of citizenship. Now that it is finally almost time for us Oregonians to have our primary election, I find myself completely frustrated and fatigued with the whole process. I am tired of the same political commentators talking about the same boring things and feeling as if we are getting no where. I have even relegated my previous admiration for Senator Obama to a feeling of exasperation and a willingness to settle for whatever the result is going to be. I would even be fine with the she-devil herself as my President if this whole process could just be over. The thought that there are still months and months to go until the final election is completely overwhelming and our nights spent watching Anderson Cooper are waning. (We have watched more CNN during the past few months than I had previously watched in my entire lifetime)

I wonder if the founding fathers of this great nation ever thought that the presidential election would come to this. But then, I was just teaching about the presidential election of 1824. Back then there weren’t necessarily two main political parties. The Federalist party had disbanded because of the societal outrage at the Alien and Sedition Acts that were championed by John Adams and his followers. The Democratic-Republicans had conflicting interests and we ended up with four main candidates for the presidency: John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Henry Clay, and William Crawford. All four of these candidates considered themselves a member of the same party and when it came time for the election, no candidate had a majority—in either popular or electoral votes. Andrew Jackson received 43% of the vote and 99 electoral votes and John Quincy Adams received 31% of the popular vote and 84 votes from the electoral college. Therefore, according to the 12th Amendment the House of Representatives would select the President. As you can imagine, there was quite a bit of kissing up, promises made, and back door dealing in the House as they prepared for the vote. In the end, John Quincy Adams would receive the most votes and become the 6th President of the United States.

The four years that followed were fairly tumultuous years in Washington, D.C. as popular opinion against the President was incredibly low (which makes sense since not even one-third of the people actually voted for the guy). He wasn’t able to accomplish much of anything and his four years as President is relegated to one short paragraph in my history textbook. I fear that this might be a similar outcome for the next president. We are so hungry for a change in the executive office, but are now growing rapidly tired of the fighting and bickering that is occurring. I had felt that perhaps as a result of this election, more people would take an active role in their government and we would see a revolution of sorts in the way people feel and interact with their government. Now I am included in the masses of people who want this all to be over so that we can get on with our poor, politically-apathetic lives.

DVR troubles

So Kristine and I have this recurring problem. Whenever there is any sort of a big game on that goes into overtime or is the least bit exciting....we never get to see the end. We had worked so hard to get the kids in bed, to have family time, and were looking forward to finally watching a close game in this tournament that has been riddled with boring blow-outs. We were sitting on the edge of our seats hoping Kansas could pull it out against the cocky (2007 Florida-reminiscent) Tigers of Memphis; there were 15 seconds or so left and there comes that ugly gray and blue screen demanding a choice of "start over" or "delete." Of course we had started the game a good hour or so late and by the time we reached this pitiful end, the game was already over. So here we sit watching ESPN and watching the poor Memphis players with red eyes trying to struggle through ridiculous questions like, "So Mr. Rose, are you going to the NBA?" The poor kid (yes, the same poor kids whose dreams I wanted squashed because they were too self-assured) just saw the chance of a lifetime run through his fingers and they have given him a whole ten minutes to make the biggest decision of his life.

The moral of this story is that there is an ugly side to the DVR. We praise it for saving us and allowing us to watch all of our favorite shows after we have put the buddies to bed, but we loathe it for denying us the excitement of the best of March Madness. Ughhh!

Do you know who you are?

"You are the son of..." James Fuller.

I missed being with my dad tonight. When I lived in Utah, we (myself, my dad, my brother, and occasionally a brother in law or two) had made quite a tradition of attending the priesthood session of conference in the conference center. Tonight I attended at my stake center in Eugene with a friend from our ward. It was a great session, but as I looked around the chapel, seeing fathers and sons listening to our new prophet together, I was struck with extreme longing for one more chance to share in this great spirit of brotherhood with my dad.

My dad is a pretty incredible person. He has always been loved and admired by nearly everyone in his life. My friends would often come over and end up talking to him upstairs (as I sat annoyed downstairs--at the time I found this completely obnoxious, but looking back find it an endearing quality about my father). He is a high school teacher, and a very good one at that. He has inspired many to achieve great things. Including me.

Even though I had my father as a teacher, a bishop, a coach (for a very short period of time--just wanted to make sure that everyone still knew that I continue to hold a grudge about that fact :), it was when I was thousands of miles away from my father that I felt his inspiration nearly every day. As a missionary for my church in Paris, France, I often relied upon my dad and his testimony to strengthen me during rough times. I looked forward to his weekly letters and carried them with me in my backpack. I would pull them out on buses or trains and my vigor for missionary work would be strengthened. I wanted to make him proud of me.

Now, I am a teacher myself. As much as I tried to avoid a career in education (partly in an effort to be different than my dad and partly from greed for a larger salary), I finally accepted it and now it consumes my life. My father has set the standard for what I want to accomplish in my classroom. I hope to one day inspire students in a way that I am sure my father continues to do.

Finally, I am amazed at the memories that I have of spending time with my father. He was an incredibly busy man when I was growing up (and still is). He worked two full-time jobs, always had a demanding church calling, and coached two or three sports during the school year. However, I have many fond memories of working outside with my dad, going on random fishing trips, riding in the big white van to some recreational event, sitting at Brigham City Hall in the recreation department office, and receiving priesthood blessings at the beginning of each school year. I can not explain to you how much my father means to me. I respect him for the amazing life that he has led. I admire him for his wisdom and spiritual strength. I love him with all of my heart. Thanks dad.