Links in a Chain

By Virginia Handley

This is the Handley Mission Blog, so I thought I’d give a shot at an entry. Bear with me, for my writing experience does not come close to Michael’s thought-provoking words. I have had the wonderful opportunity to have miracles come to me since we started this journey into mission life. In sharing some of these experiences, I hope to inspire others to seek out personal wonders in their own lives.

No one has a perfect life. Challenges, trials, wonder, sadness, joy and a myriad of events and adventures shape who we are. Mine has been riddled with events that have not always produced the happy-go-lucky results one would wish. I have faced abuse, family members fighting addictions, abandonment, and pain. I have experienced the joy of bringing children into this world and raising them in an environment of love. I have taught the gospel of Jesus Christ to the people in Mexico and learned about His Atonement for me and for them. I have traveled all over the world, met thousands of people from many different walks of life. I have swum in the Caribbean Seas, walked the Great Wall of China, and strolled the beaches of the Pacific Islands. Many of these experiences have brought peace to my soul. My journey has been wrought with strife and exhilarating delight. Talking to a young man from Siberia about the struggles of his mother’s life as a single parent or listening to a young girl in Uruguay share her love of her family, have all shaped who I am today. One thing always seemed to be lacking. Who I was.

On the Great Wall of China

If you know Michael and I well, you know we are about to embark on a service mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We are thrilled with this crossroad of life. Going from raising six children and a lifetime of working for BYU, we both find ourselves at liberty to go and serve those in need of our help. It’s a grand responsibility and we look forward to the connection we will make in the coming two years. I know I am a daughter of God. I know I have abilities and talents that are unique to me, and still I wondered how I came to be in this place.

My cousin, Laura Brooks Perry

Several weeks ago, while visiting the AncestryDNA site, I felt the need to know the people with which I share DNA. Mind you, I know who my parents are, that isn’t the issue. Having my parents’ divorce when I was young, and being separated from my father’s family, that is the issue. I didn’t know my first cousins. How crazy is that?! I had a strong desire to know that side of me, the Miller side. This all happened, because my cousin, Laura, asked me if I was the granddaughter of her uncle. Low and behold, I’m his daughter, not his granddaughter. I asked if we could meet, because I had never met a cousin from my father’s side. What a wonderful reunion. I call it a reunion because we felt we had known each other before. Not in this life, but certainly somewhere in time. Meeting her, led me to reach out to a first cousin, whose only reference I had was “S.M.” I hadn’t known more than that, until Laura gave me the name of Scott. Again, in contacting him, I now have a sense of belonging that I have never experienced before. I have gained strength from their testimonies and their love, even after only short visits. It’s amazing how the Lord works through others to touch lives for good. 

Scott and Megan Miller

From meeting these wonderful people, my ancestors have become more real to me. My desire to teach my children through my actions have increased. I have had my heart touched by what is known as “The Spirit of Elijah,” to know those who have gone before me. The reference is in the Old Testament, in Malachi 4:5-6. The prophet Elijah is sent to prepare the world for the “Second Coming of the Lord,” by turning the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers. My “fathers” hard work and examples create a determination to leave a stronger mark on this world. I have been blessed with the strength of pioneers. My grandfather came from the old country, worked hard, joined the Church, and raised a large family through trying times. My grandmother is of Mormon Pioneer descent. Those before her walked across the plains of this country to find peace and hope in worshipping the Lord. I want to learn more about them as my heart is turned in that direction. As a missionary, I will be in contact with people from all walks of life, nationalities, and religions. My hope is to use my knowledge and testimony to help them realize who they are. We are all children of a loving Heavenly Father. We came to this earth to help one another return to Him someday. Our ancestors had the same charge as we do today. They have paved a way for us to accomplish marvelous works, but mostly have demonstrated that hard work, determination, and faith can bring wondrous results in connecting us to one another. 

With my father Calvin Miller and my sister Marilyn Grayson

I am grateful for the gift of service. I know the next two years will be filled with happiness, challenges, and fulfillment. I will take my experiences, good and bad, with me to the mission. I will bring the love of my new-found family, my children, grandchildren, and others, in my heart. With help and direction from the Spirit, I can make a difference in people’s lives. What a fantastic gift. I shall not take one day for granted, for I know that when I am, “in the service of (my) fellow beings, (I am) only in the service of (my) God.” (Mosiah 2:17)

Time-out for Photography

When I began writing my blog in June of 2017, my intent was to have an outlet to share my love of landscape photography. At times, I diverted along the way to include photographs of stage productions I worked on, and then to share our adventures while traveling across the country in our Scamp trailer. Three months ago, I redirected the blog once again to be my outlet for sharing our experiences as missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Hawaii. Even though my primary focus for the blog has changed over the years, I still harbor a deep love and passion for photography, especially a love for nature and the beautiful landscapes that we find outside our backdoor.

While in Hawaii, I will have my camera equipment close at hand, and when I have free time, we hope to explore the wonders of these Pacific islands. We depart on this journey in less than one month. From there on out, my photography will take a drastic turn in that I will no longer be exploring scenes of the American Desert Southwest and the Rocky Mountains, or the coast of California, but instead, be making images of sandy beaches, tropical jungles, volcanic landscapes, and ocean vistas. I decided that for this post, I will share a few images I’ve made during the past six months. Instead of simply publishing pretty pictures though, I want to share what the photos mean to me, and what I see when I look at them. I hope you will find inspiration in what I see when looking through the viewfinder of my camera.

The Marriage Trees

This first image I call the Marriage Trees. Virginia and I were passing through the Santa Ynez Mountains in California this spring when we drove over a rise and I spotted these two magnificent oak trees on the crown of a hill, I believe they are California Live Oak (Quercus agrifolia). The first thing that caught my attention was the similarity of the two trees growing in a parallel manner. Their curving trunks follow the same line. Graphically and compositionally, they made a pleasing arrangement. They were on private property beyond a barbed wire fence, so I was limited with how I could frame the trees. I made the image, and we drove on up the canyon. I returned often to look at this image in my editing software and pondered why I was so captivated by the shapes. It soon dawned on me that these two striking specimens reminded me of a perfect matrimonial union. These oaks began their lives probably at roughly the same time and under the same conditions. The identical forces that shaped the one also fell upon the other. Each tree sent it’s roots down deep to draw up moisture and the minerals of the earth to help it grow. The same winds that fell upon one also pushed upon the other. After many years of growth, their branches came in contact one with another, for the first time they touched. That touch sent a shiver throughout both partners, down their trunks and into the roots that held them fast to the rocky soil. Reverberations of that first touch are still felt today. Through many storms of life, the draughts, the fires, the earthquakes, and the insects, they continued taking strength from the ground below them. After many more years together, their branches intertwined. When I look at these two trees, I cannot tell where one tree ends and the other begins. Their lives are wholly comingled one with another. When one goes down, so likely will the other follow. This is what marriage seems to me, and why I call these the Marriage Trees.

Montana de Oro State Beach, California

This next image was made at Montana de Oro State Beach on the Central Coast. I’ve shot this arch several times. It’s a beautiful place to sit and listen to the pounding of the ocean waves. Virginia and I visited it again in July, and to my surprise, the arch had fallen. It is now only a sea stack separated from the cliff. It reminds me that change is constant. The pounding of the ocean waves is ever present. A million waves, maybe more, carved this piece of rock over eons of time. It is no less beautiful as a lone sentinel as it was a stately arch.

I spend a lot of time wondering what this mission to Hawaii will be like. It isn’t likely I will return the same person I am when I leave in four weeks. Over the next two years rhythmic waves will work away at Virginia and I, reshaping our characters. The changes will likely be imperceptible when considered day by day. It’s the cumulative effect of the waves over time that reshape the land and reshape the lives of individuals. God tends to create his grandest works slowly and carefully. Opposition is the tool through which He changes his children. We rarely grow in safe and protected environments. I don’t expect this mission to be easy, and I don’t expect it to be a vacation. We are both submitting ourselves to the care of the Master Craftsman, and His ever-pounding rhythm of the waves of change.

Textures of the Wasatch

I made this image in early spring on the backside of Mount Timpanogos. I call it Textures of the Wasatch. I was across a valley when I spotted this stand of trees. I used my long lens to isolate this small bit of forest on the backside of Wasatch Mountain. I am drawn to these intimate scenes that reveal textures and patterns in the local forests. These are young aspen trees that have set their first leaves of the season. The maples and the oaks were still weeks away from greening. At times it feels as though the mountains are covered with a rich blanket in the patterns of nature’s tapestry. I’ve contemplated the word tapestry in a symbolic sense. I designed a show once many years ago wherein lyrics to a song were sung about the threads in a tapestry:

I am a thread in the tapestry,
I have the Master's hand on me,
And then He weaves me carefully,
Making textures as He goes.

As I’ve pondered these lyrics, I come to realize that from my perspective, I can’t always see the design the Master is working. From the level of the thread (or the tree), I have a limited view. We must rise above the fabric to see the magnificent patterns we’re a part of. If I were standing on the hillside with the trees, I wouldn’t see the rich textures and colors of early spring. I must stand on the opposite hill and look back across the valley to see the Master’s work. It’s easy to feel alone on this planet, and to wonder what God’s purpose is for each of us. It’s enough for me to know I am a thread, an important thread. The pattern wouldn’t be complete if a single thread is missing, just like this hillside would show a void if one of the trees was removed. I’m troubled because the daughter of a former neighbor took her life last week. A thread was cut short. I’m unsure how the pattern will be made whole again. My prayers are with her family.

A Light upon the hill, near Cascade Mountain, Utah

Fencing in the wildflowers, Mt. Terrill, Utah

Bye-bye Betty Lou

Of all our tangible assets, the one I will likely miss the most during the mission is our little Scamp trailer named Betty Lou. Over the past three years, Betty Lou has been our special retreat. She allowed us an escape in a world locked down by a pandemic. In a crowded home with four families, we could escape and find quiet and peace. It was a sad day when we put her into semi-permanent storage, to await our return in 2024.

The tricky thing with a Scamp is that they are slightly too tall to fit into a conventional garage with a seven-foot opening. Trevor (my son) and I took the wheels off and lowered the axil down to car dollies. We placed boards on the car dollies so that the brake drums were just an inch above the driveway. Sadly, the trailer still would not fit through the opening. We then decided to remove the brake drums, which meant cutting the electrical wires. Without the brake drums, the axil could drop another few inches. With the help of a few neighbors, we pushed it into the garage opening. Our neighbors, upon eyeballing the situation did not think we would clear the garage door header. With about ½” to spare, Betty Lou slid into place and is safely at rest until our return in two years.

Hold your breath while we squeeze the Scamp into the garage with 1/2” to spare.

When we interviewed with our bishop to serve a mission, one of the concerns he expressed was the question of how well we could get along being together 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Often, couples find it a struggle, after a lifetime career and raising children, to find out if they are still compatible. Most of the problems that couples face on a mission is their own marital relationship. Living in the Scamp for the last three years taught us that not only could we “get along”, but we could also thrive in our own company. The Scamp provides about 70 square feet of living space, not including our outdoor living area when weather permits. In that tight of an environment, there is no room to pout or sulk. We tackled problems face to face and worked through our disagreements. Those instances were rare, and problems were usually resolved long before a heated discussion erupted.

Betty Lou is our ticket to fulfilling one of our lifetime dreams, of seeing America via the backroads and byways. We have a goal of seeing all the national parks that can be reached by driving. Along the way, we’ll also visit state parks and historic sites. We’ve enjoyed flower festivals, desert rendezvous in the winter, visited family and friends along the way, and farmers’ markets and craft fairs too numerous to mention. The Scamp allowed us to learn new skills, how to care for ourselves in remote and primitive surroundings, and how to be independent of social media in an otherwise overly connected world. From the doorstep of our mobile home, we witnessed sunsets and sunrises in mountains and deserts, thunderstorms and snowstorms, winter’s cold and summer’s heat.

Virginia cooks breakfast one winter morning in Zion National Park. Notice the difference in size between our rig and our neighbors.

When lock-down started in 2020, we began traveling through the western states. Throughout 2020, 21, and into 2022, we spent a month each in the following states: Colorado, Arizona, Utah, Idaho, Washington, Oregon, Nevada, Montana, and New Mexico. We traveled to California several times and overall, spent several months in that state. Life was slow and not always busy with sightseeing, driving, or making camp. The best days were spent doing nothing more than sitting in camp reading books, playing games, watching British murder mysteries, and talking. I did a lot of writing during that time, not only in maintaining my journal, but also finishing my memoirs as a stage lighting designer, now published. I also made a boatload of photographs during our months on the road. On our travel days, we tried to stay away from the interstates and drive mostly on the blue and red highways. The Scamp has small tires, and I don’t like to exceed 65 mph anyway. We enjoy seeing rural America, all the unique vistas over each rise of the road and every bend of the highway. We see things most travelers miss nowadays.

Nestled into the rain forest on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State.

Perhaps our favorite day of the week while traveling is Sunday. We try to stay put over the weekend and not be on the road Sundays. Because of the pandemic, we could usually stream our church meeting from home if we had cell service. I learned that my faith and my religion are not dependent on a building structure to worship in. I could fully practice my faith from remote wilderness locations and sometimes feel even closer to my Heavenly Father. After church, we would go for walks, study our scriptures together, take naps, play Five Crowns (our favorite card game), and check in with each of our six kids.

Betty Lou, named after my mother, Betty Lou Wales.

Lastly, our Scamp, Betty Lou, was named after my mother (it was Virginia’s idea). Every time I walk past her and see her name, I think of Mom. Mom suffered great turbulence in her life, much of it beyond her ability to control. Throughout my young adulthood, I carried a deep anger because of our family situation. My parents divorced while I was a young teenager. I hated divorce, and I hated even more the causes that lead to a family breakup. It took many years, and countless experiences of my own to learn that none of us are perfect individuals, and that we all have weaknesses. It was unfair to expect perfection from my parents without taking the time to walk around in their shoes for a while. I would never choose to wear Mom’s shoes, mine are hard enough to wear at times. Over the years of raising my own kids, I’ve learned to have compassion and empathy. It is still tough for me at times. Part of my daily prayer is that I might learn to have, and exercise charity. The Scamp, Betty Lou, is a symbol and a reminder of all the good I have in life, my heritage, and our dreams for many happy travels in the future. When I was little, and afraid at night, Mom would sit by my bed and sing me to sleep with By the Light of the Silvery Moon. That’s one of my favorite settings while camping, seeing the Scamp parked in the wilderness by the light of a silvery moon. Happy trails everyone.

By the light of the silvery moon…

Passing Time in the Garden

We received our call to serve in the Hawaii Laie Mission two months ago. We were given four months to prepare. Back in April, it seemed that August was a lifetime away. The time is passing quickly and seems to pass faster as each week rushes by. I remember thinking that 120 days was far too many, that I could be ready by the next weekend, and “how am I ever going to kill four months”. Luckily, I’ve had my garden to occupy my time. I’ve spent countless hours poking around in the dirt, pulling weeds, watching for insect damage, and doing one project or another like grouting flagstones in one corner or changing a sprinkler layout in another. I’ve also rebuilt a few of the garden beds. Before long we’ll be harvesting vegetables and picking flowers.

I have always had a love for gardening, I think it’s in my DNA. My ancestors were avid gardeners. My grandfather and his brothers operated a small grocery store in southeastern Kansas during the depression years. I have a photograph of them on the way to market with a wagonload of goods to sell. Those were tough times, and I can imagine they barely hung on. I have a great, great aunt who opened a flower shop in the same town, and then built the Handley Greenhouses. For several generations the family sold flowers for all occasions including funerals and weddings.

Several generations back, the Handley brothers operated a small grocery business in Oswego, Kansas.

You may have never heard of Oswego, Kansas, but if you lived there, you knew the Handley Greenhouses.

When I was young, my parents allowed me a small patch of ground in the backyard to have a garden. I would spend hours upon hours digging and planting. At one time there were photographs of those early attempts at gardening, but I have long lost them. When we purchased our current home in 1989, the house was surrounded on all four sides with lawn. The only break in the sod was where the driveway crossed our lot from the street to the garage. Over the years I’ve systematically dug in flower beds, raised vegetable beds, a waterfall and pond, and various other features. At one time we even had a small orchard in one corner. I find solace in the garden. Many of my deepest thoughts have occurred while sweating out my energy in the hot sun. I love to see things grow, and I love to enjoy the rich harvests of summer and fall.

Aerial view of our property. When we purchased the house in 1989, we had grass on all four sides.

Back to the topic of the mission, I’ve been pondering why I must wait so long before we depart. Other than shopping for some clothes and putting our affairs in order, why do we have so much time on our hands? In our gospel studies this year we’ve been working our way through the Old Testament. We’ve spent a lot of time in the first five books, commonly referred to as the Books of Moses. The Exodus from Egypt is an important story. We are taught to relate these Bible experiences to our own lives and draw on the words of the prophets as relevant teachings in our own day. If I consider the Exodus as an archetype experience, what is the lesson for me? Over the years and through the recent months I’ve developed my own thoughts on the Israelite journey through the Wilderness. Perhaps the reason it took 40 years is because it required a few generations not to get out of Egypt, but to get Egypt out of the Israelites. There are indications they picked up some bad habits during the 400 years they lived in Egypt. The Wilderness represents our own passage through life. Just like the Israelites were seeking the Promised Land, so too are we. Maybe I need these four months to get things of the world out of me and conform my life to that of a missionary.

The Wilderness can be a lonely, uninhabited, and scary tract of desolate land. But on the other side lies that sweet paradise we call the Promised Land. I’ve decided there are no short cuts and no way around it. If we want to get to the Promised Land, the only way is through the Wilderness. It’s those things that happen in the Wilderness that change us, that try us, and prove us. The Wilderness can take various shapes and sizes. My Wilderness experience is varied and diverse. At times I feel I am passing through multiple overlapping Wildernesses. The Wilderness is always changing, and in the process of my journey I also change, hopefully to a better and more fully developed individual.

I think I could have been ready to depart for Hawaii within a week of receiving our assignment, in a materialistic sort of way. But I don’t think I would have been ready to serve as a missionary without proper preparations. Virginia and I are passing through a wee bit of Wilderness now that is preparing us for that Promised Land across the great Pacific Ocean. The time we are given is helping us develop missionary discipline and change our mindset and attitudes. In fact, I’m wondering if we have enough time to shape our behaviors into the manners of representatives of our Savior.

Our front yard garden. Lately we’ve been drifting more towards xeriscaping as the Southwest draught deepens.

And so, I spend a lot of time studying my scriptures, meditating, and praying. But I can only do that for so long and then I lose my focus and determination. That’s where the garden helps. It gives me an outlet to burn off energy in a constructive manner and still provides time to contemplate where I’m going and what I’ll be doing in the next two years. From one Wilderness to another the journey continues, and I’ll be gardening all along the way. I hope I find the opportunity to dig a little in the soil over in Laie.

Shopping, for Non-Shopaholics

We ascended the escalator and arrived at the second floor. We stepped onto the landing and looked to the left, then to the right, and then behind us. Nothing but an ocean of women’s clothing as far as eye could see. We felt out of place and somewhat lost, not knowing which way to go. We weren’t even sure what we were looking for, so overwhelmed by the vast collection of fabrics, colors, and styles. It was odd that some of the mannequins were not even clothed, and we were unsure what that message was. Neither Virginia nor I would be considered shopaholics. We tend to identify more with a minimalist lifestyle than mass consumerism. We were definitely out of our comfort zone.

For this mission, we will be traveling to a land different than what we are used to. Instead of hanging around the house with family and keeping a yard, we will be engaged in public life, meeting people, mentoring students, and becoming a face for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We must conform to a new image as a disciple and missionary of the Savior. We are also going to a wetter climate than we are familiar with and engaging in work of a different nature. All of this requires us to retool and reequip our lives in a new manner.

Much of the advance information we’ve received from the mission and from the church is vague. We aren’t given a detailed packing list to follow, just general guidelines. We know there is only one day a week allocated for personal needs, i.e., grocery shopping, laundry, writing home, etc., so we know we need enough clothing to get through a week. We will be working in a major tourist attraction in Hawaii, and we are expected to look like we belong there. I’ve lived in Utah, on the Wasatch Front for most of my adult life, and I have built my wardrobe around the four seasons, the dry desert climate of the American Southwest, my life in the theatre, and our hobbies of camping and hiking. I am well outfitted with jeans and plaid flannel shirts. In the summer I wear shorts and a tee-shirt. None of this works with where we are going and what we will be doing in Hawaii.

For most of her life, Virginia has placed the needs of her children and husband before her own. She’s had what she’s needed, but not by any means a full wardrobe, and certainly not outfitted for the adventure that lies ahead. Lately, I’ve felt that her current collection of clothing represents a debt that is decades in the making, and the interest has now come due. I need to pay back on the many years of sacrifice she has made on behalf of the rest of the family. We spent the last two weeks heavily shopping, primarily for Virginia’s sake. I’ve learned this week that a woman’s wardrobe is more complicated than a man’s, at least more complicated than my own. While I can get by with a few pairs of pants and a half dozen Aloha shirts, Virginia needs more. She cares more for her appearance than I do. I don’t think I’m a slob, but I also don’t take the care Virginia does, or would like to. There is more to consider in in a woman’s wardrobe, things I never take into account. Buying a bra is perhaps the most difficult article of clothing in the whole arsenal.

I’ve been steadily working on my wardrobe since we received our calling (except for the month we were hung up in our lag error). These last two weeks have been exhausting. Some of the shopping has been online, and that is slightly easier, but we’ve also been forced out into the malls and shops across Utah Valley and even into downtown Salt Lake City. We’ve spent a small fortune, at least for us it has amounted to more money than we’ve ever invested in one shopping spree. But we are relieved that it is nearly finished. There are still two months before we leave our home, but there are other matters that require our attention. Having the “proper” clothing was one of the items we needed to check off on our to-do list. This has been a heavy burden weighing upon us, one that has needed our immediate attention. I am grateful it is mostly done, to leave it behind and move on to other pressing matters like holding new grandbabies and catching up in the yard.

I originally thought I could lay out my wardrobe on one side of the bed and Virginia’s on the other. I was shocked to learn that mine covered a king-sized bed alone. A dozen dresses takes considerably more space.

We have prepared ourselves for the next two years, and we are hopeful that except for a small or rare occasion, we can stay out of the malls and shops in Hawaii and concentrate on the real reason we are at the Polynesian Cultural Center. There is nothing wrong with shopping, in and of itself. It simply isn’t an activity we have practiced regularly. The last thing I want is to show up at the Polynesian Cultural Center looking like a couple of backwoods hicks, or even worse, Utah desert rats. Now we just need to figure out how we are getting it to the mission field. Using Google Maps, I learned that it is 2,983 miles from Orem to Laie, in a straight line. Eventually, we’ll be visiting our local UPS store or FedEx carrier.

A Tale of Two Missions

I joined the church when I was 16½ years old after a singular experience while reading the Book of Mormon. At that time, I received a personal testimony that it was God’s word. There was a lot happening in my life with being an awkward teenager struggling with my personal identity, a broken homelife, and unknown future. At 19, my friends who were also members of the church began leaving on missions. It seemed the obvious next step for me was to also apply to serve. I submitted my papers, and I was called to serve in the Italy Padova Mission in 1977 for two years. Only being a member 2½ years before serving put me at a disadvantage because I hadn’t learned as much as I should have before embarking on a mission to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. I had a burning testimony of the Book of Mormon, but I was not versed in other fundamentals of the church’s faith.

After serving for four months in Pisa, I was transferred to Firenze (Florence) for the next six months

When I was baptized, the family that brought me into the church gifted me a book titled A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. It is an introductory text of the basic beliefs of the Mormon faith. I took it with me to Italy and read it in the early months of my service. I recorded in my journal one day, “There is a lot more to this religion stuff than I ever thought.” That comment illustrates my inexperience and lack of knowledge at that time of life. One might expect a missionary for the church to have a deep understanding of basic doctrine before going forth to preach the word of God to the nations of the world. Not so in my case.

I had an interview with my mission president one day. Mission presidents are older priesthood leaders usually called in the retirement stage of their lives. They preside over a mission of 150-200 missionaries, mostly young men. In that interview, he expressed his disappoint with me, saying that I wasn’t living up to his expectations. It saddened me deeply that I was letting him down, but I wasn’t sure what I could do to change. I was young and inexperienced; learning fundamental church doctrine as fast as I could process it before turning around to teach it to my fellow man. The Atonement of Jesus Christ was a complex and abstract concept for me at that age. The basic principles of repentance, living the law of chastity, obeying a health and diet code known as The Word of Wisdom, the responsibilities of a lay ministry, truly believing in modern day revelation through living prophets and apostles, the mission of the Holy Ghost, the gathering of Israel, marriage for eternity, living a covenant life after attending the holy temple, observing the law of consecration, the act of fasting, paying a tithing, and a long list of other practices that constitute a disciple of Jesus Christ were all a part and practice of a good Later-day Saint. In one of the first lessons missionaries teach, questions of man’s preexistence, purpose, and destination are raised. I hadn’t fully internalized what those meant to myself, let alone to others I met on a street corner in the Tuscan hills of Italy. I wasn’t raised in the church, I hadn’t been taught as a child, I was a long way from home and without the support of my family. For the first time since joining the church, I was faced with actually living my faith under my own motivation and understanding. I think I was facing for the first time that I didn’t know how to live on my own. And not just live on my own, but to live a holy and consecrated life of a missionary. I don’t mean this in a “holier than thou” sense. It’s just that a missionary is set apart from worldly things to be an example to others, and as sin free as humanly possible. 19-year-old men don’t always have that figured out. I didn’t. I doubted my ability to fulfill my calling. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to remain a missionary for the full two-year term. But remain I did. I obeyed the mission rules, followed the council of my mission president, faithfully read my scriptures, and prayed every day and every night. One day followed another and gradually a miracle occurred; the Lord somehow took this goofy kid and changed him not only into a missionary able to survive the two-year term, but to also navigate his course through life.

45 years later, I once again look forward to wearing the nametag, “Elder Handley, Missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints”. The difference now is that I’ve had a lifetime of studying the scriptures, serving in many church roles, raising six children, and attending a thousand or so Sunday school lessons. I think I know the doctrine well. My faith and my testimony far exceed that of my youthful 19-year-old self. I think I have much more to offer the world in terms of my gospel understanding. My first mission was not without success. I taught hundreds of lessons in my two years. I was even the participant in a handful of conversions and baptisms. When I look back at those years though, I can’t help but feel that the primary conversion made was of that awkward 19-year-old lad struggling through life and holding on with only a belief that the Book of Mormon held the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I’m not sure what my mission president’s expectations were of me. I wish he could have understood that I wasn’t much further along than the Italians we met upon the street or visited with while knocking on doors. I too was a young man in search of meaning.

Towards the end of my mission, I had the privilege of baptizing Lucianno in the town of Gorizia on the then Yugoslavian border.

At 63, I suspect this next mission will play out much differently. If I’m told by my mission president that I don’t meet his expectations, then I really do have a lot of soul searching and reevaluation to do. I believe I have been well-seasoned by life; fatherhood will do that to a person. This is not a proselyting mission. It is a service mission and a return to my work in the theatre. My approach to mission life and mission work is different. Virginia will be my companion, the companion I’ve been with for the last 37 years. Together we will set out in search of those who need a friend in life; a hand to strengthen and feeble knees to confirm (Isaiah 35:3). If I grow as much from this second mission as I did from the first, I’m curious to see what I’m like when we return in two years. When I returned from Italy, I found I had a lifelong love for the Italian people. I suspect that two years from now I will have a deep and profound love for those of Polynesian descent. You can’t help but love those whom you serve. Perhaps that will be the most cherished possession I return with, a love for another people and culture. Serving a mission is a deep sacrifice, and one that will bring great blessings upon Virginia and I, and perhaps even upon our children and their families. I hope that in the following two years I will transcend further my relationship to my Savior. This blog post is titled A Tale of Two Missions. Only one mission has been written thus far. It will be a while before I tell the tale of mission #2. Perhaps two years from now I’ll finish this blog post…

At the end of my mission in November of 1979, waiting for the train that would take me out of Italy and start my journey home.

Lag Error

When I started blogging about our mission experience a few months ago, I intended to write every week. It has now been almost a month since my last posting, and it is time to catch up on our adventure. We hit a bump in the road of our preparations, which I call a lag error. To explain a lag error, I’ll refer to an experience I had many years ago working in the theatre when I first learned about lag errors. I’ll take my account from my personal journal that I was writing at the time.

Oct. 29, 2014: At BYU Spectacular this year, we used the phrase “Take Flight” as our theme. We chose to celebrate the arts at BYU and the power art plays in our lives. The main ideas were that art serves for the enjoyment of mankind and as an instrument of God, and that art lifts us out of the mundane aspects of our lives. We invited the fantasy artist and former faculty and alum James Christensen as our guest host. We built the theme around James and a character from many of his paintings, his Everyman. James talked with Everyman in a conversational manner, revealing the message of our program. At the end of our production, we planned to have Everyman don a pair of homemade wings, take flight from the stage, and soar over the audience.

To accomplish the flying trick, we hired a company from Las Vegas called Flying by Foy. It was a complicated and expensive rig to install in the Marriott Center. We practiced for hours, programming the computers that ran the flying operation. The system was safe in that if it ever detected an anomaly, it would not engage the motors that lifted our actor off the stage. In our many hours of practice, the flying engineers troubleshot every location in the flight routine that caused the rig to malfunction. The malfunction points were indicated on the computer as lag errors. There were four motors that worked in concert to lift our actor and maneuver him around the room. A lag error was generally observed when one of the motors had not taken the proper slack from the line.

Pat Debenham as Everyman, Homecoming Spectacular 2014, BYU

On the final performance of our show, at the climax when Everyman runs downstage and is lifted over the orchestra, the computer gave us the dreaded lag error and Everyman did not fly. It was disappointing. We re-cued the show and made a second attempt. Once again, we received a lag error. The show ended, to our great disappointment without the effect we worked so hard to achieve. Otherwise, we had a terrific performance.

Pat in a successful flight during a dress rehearsal

Time has now passed, and I’ve reflected over the experience and decided there are two lessons I choose to learn from this. After I work on a show for an entire year there comes a time when I must let go and entrust it to the talents and expertise of other gifted artists. For the show to succeed there cannot be any lag errors in the various departments. Audio, lighting, staging, costuming, music, choreography, etc. must all work together in proper harmony and tension. If any area of production has slack in its line it is quite likely that we will register a metaphorical lag error and the show will not accomplish what we set out to do. BYU Spectacular is a complicated production, and it is a tribute to many talented individuals that we rise to performance level after only one dress rehearsal. Lag errors seldom occur and when they do, we work fast and hard to resolve the problem. For example, we registered a “lag error” at our dress rehearsal when the director of the Men’s Chorus could not hear her choir over the top of the orchestra. She was agitated and unhappy. As far as she was concerned, her efforts were wasted, and not only her efforts, but also the efforts of the 180 men in her chorus. This was a significant enough lag error that it threatened the over-all integrity of the performance. Our chief audio engineer worked for hours through the night and the next day resolving the problem. By our opening performance, the lag error had been removed, the choir sounded fantastic, and our choir director was satisfied with her choir’s participation in our program. A lag error had been resolved.

On a more spiritual level we are also potentially subject to lag errors. Our Father in Heaven’s plan of happiness is likewise built and engineered to err on the side of safety. That is why we have a Savior, and more importantly why we have the Atonement. If we hope to rise to our full potential, we must ensure all motors are fully engaged and there is no slack in any of the lines. If our lives are not in full harmony, if we are slow to remember our prayers, scripture study is forgotten, or we slip into a few bad habits, at the crucial time of lift off we may find ourselves with a lag error.

Preparatory to applying for our mission, we had to complete a physical examination with our doctor. In the bloodwork done at my appointment, an anomaly was detected that raised a red flag for a potential problem. My doctor recommended I follow-up with a specialist. I made an appointment with a doctor to review the findings, and he indeed appeared a little concerned. He ordered that I complete an MRI. Thus was the beginning of my lag error. The radiologist reported that my MRI indicated a high probability of cancer. Back at my specialist’s office, the next step was to acquire a set of biopsies from the tissue. After an uncomfortable procedure, I was sent home to wait for the results.

We dreaded every minute of our lag error. We ceased preparations of going to Hawaii. We tried, with great difficulty, to push the mission to the back or our minds. We avoided talking about our mission if possible. If someone asked if we were excited, or how we were doing, we side-stepped the topic as quickly as possible. We didn’t want to engage anyone in our situation. It was deeply saddening for us. I wasn’t upset about the possibility of cancer, its treatment, or my probable decline in general health as much as that this might mean the end to our plans to fulfill the mission.

To our tremendous relief and joy, the pathology report came back with all tissue samples benign for cancer. My doctor gave me a clean bill of health and his blessing to go off and serve the people of Hawaii. The lag error had been cancelled, and we are now allowed to re-cue for the continuation to Take Flight in this next grand journey.

Lag errors seem built into the system to protect us, and to protect others around us. They give us opportunity to reflect on what is most important in life and remind us of our humanity. I’m grateful my lag error raised the flag for a potential problem. I’m more grateful that it resolved so easily and blessed us with a glorious warmth and peace. We are moving forward once again, and we seem to be back on track. We are now down to 76 days before our departure, and all systems are GO.

Focusing on the Mission and not the Destination

Basalt cliffs and trees on the North Shore of Oahu

When we tell others that we are serving a mission in Hawaii, the immediate response is, “Oh, that sounds fun, more like a vacation”. In truth, even to ourselves at times, it almost seems too good to be true. Throughout my life Hawaii was always the preeminent vacation destination: white sandy beaches, palm trees blowing in a gentle breeze, the smell of tropical flowers, and the taste of fresh pineapple. I remember writing a report in grade school about Hawaii. It was the first time I had studied the island nation. I had romantic visions of the volcanic origins and its native inhabitants. It was a land so far away and different than anything I could imagine at the time. I visited Hawaii as a teenager. We went there on a family vacation and stayed for almost two weeks. We did all the things a traveler would do back in the 1970’s. I even had a surfing lesson, although I never succeeded in standing upright on my surfboard. Later in life, I returned to Oahu and spent a summer working at the Polynesian Cultural Center as a lighting designer in the Pacific Theatre. I was hired to light the show, Horizons. It was 1995, and I spent almost an entire summer on the island.

I would guess that most people who travel to Hawaii only spend one or two weeks before returning to the mainland, the sole purpose of the trip being to “vacation”. I think it is built into our psyche to accept that the purpose of those islands is to vacation, much like a visit to Disneyland, or to any other resort. When I spent my summer there and I broke the two-week threshold, I began falling into routines that patterned my everyday life at home. Some of the newness wore away and I stopped feeling like I was on holiday. I had work to do, and sometimes my work seemed as difficult or even harder than at home. And I was no longer on “vacation”.

We will be living in Laie Hawaii for 23 months. It will become our home. When we submitted our application to serve a mission, it was never with the intent to go on vacation. We would have gone anywhere in the world and committed to any number of mission duties. It just so happened that the Polynesian Cultural Center was looking for a Theatre and Lighting Specialist, something I had done throughout my life as a career. I am grateful to once again apply the skills I practiced for nearly 45 years of my life. The show currently running has years of life left in it. I am not going to help create a new production. I suspect my time in Hawaii will be spent in some sort of mentoring capacity, helping the employees and students who work at the Center better understand the art and craft of theatre. More importantly I will be a missionary. As such, I hope my roll will involve much more of an intimate relationship with those whom I cross paths. I will be commissioned to bear witness of Jesus Christ in all my daily tasks of life. I think I will take upon me the admonition of Isaiah, to “Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees” (Isaiah 35:3). In my case, I’ll be looking for opportunities to serve within my circle of influence within the theatre world. I may find those who need a friendly smile and a kind word among the cast and crew backstage, or it could be a visiting patron. No doubt the Lord may place someone in my path at any given moment of the day, from attending church on Sundays to shopping for groceries on our preparation day. The opportunities could be infinite. It’s the mindset that I have to adopt.

Lastly, it has been my experience that being in the service of God has never been easy. Every venture time when I have applied my talents and skillset to churchwork has been met with the greatest trials of my life. It’s almost as if God expects I make an appropriate sacrifice to complete the work and receive His blessings. There is a sanctification process I must pass through when engaged in the work of the Lord. So often in life I have found these times the hardest and most painful passages I’ve ever walked. They were the times I felt my soul about to tear within me. I am brought to tears, and I see my flaws and weaknesses. But along with that comes the growth and the increase of knowledge and wisdom. I’ve said a thousand times after passing through such a trial, “though I would never choose to go through that again, I would never trade the experience away for anything in the world.” I expect our mission to be hard. I hope it to be hard because I want to grow. I think I would be sad if I came home in two years refreshed from the “vacation”, but essentially the same person I was before I left. I want to be a better person. I want my Heavenly Father to teach me in a personal manner, which only comes through service in His workforce. I want to strengthen someone whose hands might be weak, or who stumbles because of feeble knees. I want the soles of my shoes worn out in His service.

For all who think we are on vacation, consider what we leave behind: leisure time with friends and family, daily activities at our choosing, the comforts of our own home, and the gentle life of retirement. We trade that all away to serve a mission at our own expense on a distant island in the South Pacific. What do we get out of it? We’ll know in two years. When I served my first mission in 1977-79, a member of my home congregation wrote to me soon after I arrived in Italy. She said, “Don’t go out seeking blessings for Michael Handley; go out solely for the purpose of serving someone else and you will be richly blessed”. Thank you LeVey Call for that reminder. It is our intention to lose ourselves in the work, whatever that may be and with whomever we find ourselves with. 

118 Days to be Ready

We received our assignment to serve as missionaries at the Polynesian Cultural Center in Hawaii on April 19. We report to the Missionary Training Center in Provo on Aug. 15. Between those two dates are 118 days to get ready. On the surface that seems like ample time. Already 8 days have slipped past, and I believe time will continue to move quicker the closer we get to departure. Here is what we will be doing in the following weeks and months:

Medical: Prior to submitting our application, we both needed physicals and dental checkups. For the most part, these were routine visits with our physicians. In my bloodwork, an anomaly occurred that is a small concern, and I am seeing a specialist to make sure there is no condition that will interfere with my ability to work. Virginia is getting additional care done on one knee, like oiling a squeaking joint on the Tinman. We thought we had all the necessary immunizations according to the preparation packet. Once we received our call, we learned that a pneumonia vaccination was recommended. Since we are in the 60-year bracket, we’ve always assumed we were both immunized for measles, mumps, and rubella as children. With no ability to produce vaccination dates, we had that shot repeated. Other than a follow-up cleaning with the dentist before we go, and whatever the specialist decides to do with me, we should be done with medical.

Putting our House in Order: Our second son will be staying in our home with his family while we are gone. We planned to move our personal belongings to the basement so they could have the master bedroom and the other upstairs bedrooms for their kids. Our daughter-in-law is 8 months pregnant, and we felt it would be better to get her settled before the delivery, so we decided to make the move this week. Starting Saturday, we emptied two bedrooms for their kids and shoved our stuff into a spare room downstairs. We then moved the kids upstairs. That took all day. On Monday of this week, we moved everything out of the master bedroom and piled it in the living room, kitchen, dining room, and family room. That allowed us to begin moving our son and his wife up from the basement. By Monday evening our home looked like a shipwreck. It was as if someone had turned our home upside down and shook it vigorously, or like a bomb went off, and there were no survivors. We worked through the piles and heaps yesterday and gradually we are finding order.

Wardrobe: It’s not uncommon to see missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints walking two by two through almost any city or town in the world, usually wearing a suit, white shirt and tie for men, and dresses for women. That is not our mission. Our mission is not a conventional proselyting mission. I will be spending a lot of time working backstage in the Pacific Theatre. We will likely have other assignments at the Center doing public relations work, hosting, or teaching the public. Backstage clothing for me is black slacks and black polo. Black is the traditional color for stagehands. Other assignments at the Center will require slacks and an aloha shirt. At home, my normal dress is tee-shirt and shorts if it is summer, and plaid flannel shirts and jeans in the winter. Needless to say, I have nothing in my wardrobe to help me fit into the Polynesian environment. We both have a lot of shopping to do from footwear to shirts, slacks, skirts, and other items. I will need a suit to wear on Sundays and other mission-related meetings. I’m not sure if I can make an existing suit work or if I’ll be shopping for a new one. Other than clothing, our needs will be simple for the next two years. The mission will place us in a modestly furnished apartment with most of what we need by way of cooking equipment. There will be the odd item here and there we’ll purchase after we arrive, but we won’t be living extravagantly by any means.

Training: I retired in January of 2021. That and the theatres being closed for most of 2020 means that I haven’t worked on stage for over two years. I need to brush up my computer programming skills. The PCC is operating technology that didn’t exist when I stopped working in 2020. That means I have a lot of training to complete in the next few months. My former assistant will be taking me into the lab and coaching me on the new technology through most of May.

Other Things to do: Among these activities, I still have a garden to plant and a yard to care for during the summer. In May, we have two grandchildren being born, one to be birthed in our own home. We anticipate being needed here and there as these two grandsons arrive. We would like to make a quick getaway or two in the Scamp, but that is secondary to everything else going on. I’ll have to meet with our accountant to figure out how to manage taxes while we are away, change mail delivery, deal with cars being left behind, a family wedding in July, regular church assignments, the occasional babysitting of grandkids. And then there is always life that gets in the way with a thousand distractions we can’t plan for. We’ll be busy for sure. In many ways, I hope our lives slow down once we leave home. We’ll need the rest.

Going on a Mission

For a while, I was planning to title this blog post something about a course correction, or a change in direction. That would imply however, that we were already on a course and following a direction, neither would be accurate. It’s true that Virginia and I have compiled a bucket list of activities we would like to check off one day. At the top of the list is visiting all the national parks in the country. Most of those could be reached while we traveled the backroads of America pulling our Scamp trailer behind us. We started that journey last year and saw most of the parks in the West: Utah, Wyoming, Montana, Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Colorado, and Arizona. We had a great time. We found that we could live comfortably in 70 sq. ft. of space for extended periods of time.

After a while however, we started feeling restless. As fun as it was to visit new places and explore the many wonderful outdoor spaces, we began wondering if this were all we would do the remainder of our lives. Something was missing. We loved the mountains, forests, streams, and meadows, but we weren’t connecting to people, serving others, and developing spiritually. We’ve been home most of winter because we learned it takes a lot of dedication and work to stay warm in our little trailer. We spent a month in Arizona earlier this year but spent most of our time sitting in the sun reading books. Nothing wrong with relaxing, but again, we asked ourselves is this it for the rest of our lives. I’m 63, and I hope to have a few more decades of living still.

Upon serious introspection, and promptings of the Spirit, we decided it was time we submit an application to our church to serve a fulltime service mission. Typically, when one does this, it is with the faith that one is willing to go anywhere and do anything. There are opportunities to request areas that might take advantage of professional skills and talents. But in general, we agreed to place ourselves in the Lord’s hands, and go where He would have us serve.

So, instead of writing about a course correction, I have likened this to embarking on a journey, or a pilgrimage wherein we are searching for deeper meaning to life while serving others in a distant land. It is not about changing course but engaging life and applying ourselves to the betterment of others.

Until now, this blog has been primarily used to exploit my photography and share our travels in the Scamp as we traveled throughout the country. For the next two years, the tone and direction of the blog will follow our journey and pilgrimage on a church service mission. In saying this, I am letting my audience know that in future writings I will not remain faith neutral. I will openly relate the spiritual experiences that Virginia and I share, our trials and how we overcome them, and also how we live as Christians in a modern world. We are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We have been called to serve in the Hawaii Laie Mission on the north shore of the island of Oahu. We will primarily be working at the Polynesian Cultural Center, which is owned and operated by the church. My specific assignment will be to work as Theatre and Lighting Specialist in the Pacific Theatre and other areas of the Center. We are unsure at this time how the Center will make use of Virginia’s many talents. We look forward to the great adventures that await us.

And of course, there should be plenty of room to include photography. Hopefully we’ll witness many glorious sunrises and sunsets.

Catching up after a one year hiatus

It’s been a year since my last blog post, and the first question may be, what happened? I think there were several factors that contributed to my lack of posting. I went through a number of life adjustments in 2021, partly due to covid-19, and partly a result of a major shift in my lifestyle by retiring as a theatre lighting designer. When I retired from my university assignment, I also decided to close the photography business (at least as I had been practicing it at the time). With no income from photography, I had no resource to keep an account with Squarespace. I made a commitment to Virginia many years ago that I wouldn’t use the family budget to subsidize an expensive habit involving cameras. For the most part, I’ve kept to that promise. It’s only recently that I found a stash of savings I had put away that should float me along for the foreseeable future. Traveling in the Scamp was a lot to manage at first. We would leave home for a month at a time starting in January and traveled through difficult and challenging situations. I simply didn’t take the time to blog about it. My plate was full just keeping up with living in 75 square feet of space, trying to keep warm, learning to cook on two burners and no oven, managing personal hygiene with little or no water, and many other simple life routines. I often felt lazy in the evening. While I read a lot of books on the road and streamed quite a few movies and shows when we had signal, I didn’t have the energy to write creatively. I kept up with my personal journal, but I didn’t put the additional effort into a weekly blogpost to share with family and friends.

Front row seat to watch the churning surf at Montana de Oro State Beach in California.

So, with no funds and little energy, I allowed my account with Squarespace to lapse and instead I occasionally tossed a photo up onto Facebook or Instagram, believing that I had fulfilled my responsibility. To be honest, I get little satisfaction from most of social media. Even worse than a lack of satisfaction is the subconscious anxiety social media generates. I realized I was constantly comparing myself with others. If I saw a photograph I liked, I had to go there and capture it myself. Every cool hack of a Scamp trailer was added to my to-do list. Likewise, with gardening ideas, etc. I was never as good as the cumulative wisdom of the entirety of the internet. It’s only recently that I feel confident in the necessary life skills that speed me along my journey of discovery. I know what I want to photograph, we can articulate our own necessities in the Scamp, I can research from more credible online sites when I need help problem solving. And so, here I am, once again yearning to write about my travels and sharing my photographs along the way.

A mighty giant of the redwood forest at Jedediah Smith Redwood Grove.

We spent almost six months of 2021 on the road living out of the Scamp. We would go out for a month and then return home for a few weeks or so. While home I would work feverishly retooling, tweaking, and fine tuning our life in a small trailer. And then, back out onto the road we would go. We spent a month in Arizona because that’s where people go in winter, only to be slammed with a bitter winter snowstorm at the south rim of the Grand Canyon. We then traveled to California for a month, a month in Oregon, a month in Montana and Washington, various trips across Idaho, a month in Colorado and New Mexico, and finally another trip to Arizona to spend the Christmas holiday. We put a lot of miles on the 4-Runner and the Scamp, keeping mostly to US highways and avoiding Interstates. I only drive 60mph max because the Scamp has little wheels. We’re not in a hurry anyway.

Incoming tide at the Samuel Bordman Scenic Corridor, Oregon

We read a lot of books while we are out. I discovered Jack Kerouac this year and wish I had read his works as a younger man. I read classics from Greek and Roman philosophy, great murder mysteries of Raymond Chandler from the 1950’s, I’m working my way through a list of 100 books “every man should read”. As we travel, we often visit thrift stores where we find piles of books to add to our library. One of my favorite finds this year is a book titled The Art of Pilgrimage (maybe I’ll write more on that later). It was gifted to me by my daughter in law, who found it at a thrift store. Perhaps the greatest advantage to retiring is finding time to read. Actually, I’ve discovered two benefits of retirement, reading and sleeping. Our days on the road easily synchronize with the rhythms of the sun and I regularly get 8-9 hours of sleep each night when I only got 4-5 hours while working in the theatre. The Scamp is a restful setting for two aging road warriors.

Sunset at Bandon, Oregon

I’m including a few of my favorite photos from our travels in 2021. I’ve already begun a collection for 2022, and I hope to keep up with the writing as the weeks and months pass. I hope you enjoy the content and leave a comment if you feel inspired. I don’t want to succumb to the pressure of feeding a beast called “Blog”. My job is not to entertain you. I only want to share. Each of these posts and the accompanying photographs are pasted into my personal journal. So, more than anything, the blog is a tool I use to record our travels, the journey, the discovery, and the growth. I’m happy to share the experiences with our family, friends, and occasional stranger we pick up along the way. Happy travels to all of you. Set your sights on retirement and plan your journey.

Cascades, Going to the Sun Road, Glacier National Park, Montana

We were not dry for even five minutes while camped in Olympic National Park, Washington.

Mount Hood sunrise, Lost Lake, Oregon

Morning light at Palouse Falls, Idaho

What We Learned After a Month on the Road

For years, Virginia and I have dreamed of life after retirement. That dream included travels across the country to visit our national parks and monuments. We also have plans to travel internationally. In preparation for our cross-country adventures, we purchased a small travel trailer called a Scamp, (we named her Betty Lou). We knew there would be a learning curve associated with this new life. Other than a few weekend trips here and there, we never attempted long-term living away from home. This last month has been a major shake-down trek to see if we can function comfortably and sanely together. Like the image above, this trip was an arch, or a bridge, between an old life and new. Along the way we met minor failures and discovered many weaknesses. But more importantly, we learned that this is a lifestyle we can easily embrace. In some ways, it is unlike anything we ever attempted before. In this blog post I will share some of the main areas of growth.

Sometimes it’s hard not to compare ourselves to other campers.

We chose a Scamp trailer because it fits our ethos. We are not hard-core minimalists, but we tend to resonate with simple living on a small scale. A Scamp trailer has everything we need and not too much more. Sometimes we pull up next to a big rig like the one above and wonder what we would do with all that space. For over 30 years we camped in a conventional tent and slept on the ground. It’s a luxury to now have a bed to sleep on (even though it is only 44 inches wide) for the two of us. We enjoy the warmth the Scamp provides in winter and the ability to shut out the noise of the campground. We do most of our cooking outdoors. We will boil water indoors, but not cook. We don’t want the oils and smells of food imbedding in everything around us. On this trip, we visited several early American ruins like the one below. We learned that each room was a dwelling place for one family. It dawned on me that our Scamp has about 75 square feet of living space. 2-3 of our Scamps would fit into one of these rooms. We are living in about the same spatial abundance as an ancient family in the Southwest.

Tuzigoot National Monument, Clarkdale, Arizona

It has been almost two weeks since we’ve had a proper shower. We’ve learned that we can keep ourselves clean with disinfectant wipes. Before we left home in early January, I built a simple shower from a pressurized garden sprayer. It works great for washing hair, and on occasion, we even made it work for a full body shower. Virginia uses it every day to rinse dishes. It’s a keeper.

Sunset at the Grand Canyon from Yavapai Point

For the last month, Virginia and I have been together for nearly the entire time, 24/7. We’ve talked to some couples entering retirement who ask how we can spend so much time together. My response is always, how can you not spend time with your best friend. About the only time we’re apart is when I leave for a few hours to make photographs. I prefer to be alone when I am with my camera. I need that time to think and process my surroundings. Other than those few hours here and there, we spend our time together. For entertainment we enjoy streaming British murder mysteries. Several times we found ourselves without cell service and not able to hotspot. In those instances, we embraced the isolation and quiet, and spent more time reading books we brought along. We have even spent several evenings playing card games. In the coming months we’ll likely look into purchasing a cell booster to improve our connect-ability.

Stormy skies over Sedona, Arizona

While we’ve traveled, we’ve kept lists of things to change or improve. I’ve purchased items on Amazon and had them sent home ahead of us. When we return home, we’ll have about two weeks to catch up on business, restock the Scamp, make some critical changes to our camping environment, and then we’ll be returning to the road. Each time out we’ll fine tune it more and more until we have this thing dialed in to our satisfaction. A few of our enhancements include:

• Improving our solar collection by adding an additional panel and making it possible to recharge our solar battery while we drive

• Adding more storage for clothing

• Changing how we stock food supplies

• Reconfiguring the 4Runner and making more efficient use of its space

• Adding storage pockets here and there and better organizing “stuff”

• Improving our outdoor cooking station

• Relamping the interior of the Scamp with warm LED lighting

4 image panoramic stitch of storming skies over Southern California

Into Stormy Weather

As much as possible, when we travel, we try to make our journey on the US highways and avoid the Interstate Freeways. When pulling the Scamp, 60mph is our maximum speed. I don’t have a strong desire to move faster. Our tires are small, and I don’t want to risk a blowout at high speed. I’m also not in a hurry. Most of the US highways have a maximum speed limit of 65mph. We’re learning that it’s not the destination but the journey that is important. The old highways follow the contour of the land. The road rises and falls with the topography and winds along rivers and valleys. The big Interstates seem an attempt to conquer the land. We want to see America, the small towns and rural places. We’ve been reading On the Road by Jack Kerouac as a family. At Christmas, we decided to start the Handley Family Reading Group. On the Road is our first novel. Virginia and I are not in search of a hedonistic lifestyle or have a desire to revert back to our teenage beatnik days and a counter-culture way of life. What resonated the most with me from Kerouac’s tale was the pull of the open road and a desire to learn what lays beyond…

Wukoki Pueblo at Wupatki National Monument, Arizona

We exited Zion National Park on the east side and returned to US89 bound for the Grand Canyon. In this instance, it was the faster route instead of the Interstate through Las Vegas. I had forgotten what a beautiful stretch of land lay between Kanab, UT and Page, Arizona. The Vermillion Cliffs were stunning in their banded cake-like layers. I didn’t have great lighting and I knew we had a long drive that day, so we enjoyed our passage without taking time to stop and photograph the scenery. I’ll be adding that area to my bucket list of places to revisit. I want to stay overnight in order to photograph the mocha-colored hills in sunset/sunrise lighting. On our way to Flagstaff, we stopped at Wupatki National Monument and Sunset Crater Volcanic Monument. Both monuments offered great viewpoints and short hikes.

Wupatki National Monument, Arizona

The Grand Canyon is beautiful in winter when crowds pressure is much lower. We camped at the Yavapai RV Village because winter storms were forecast. We wanted electricity so we could use a space heater to help keep us warm through the night. I figured with the storms we wouldn’t have enough solar rays to recharge our batteries. The standing air temperature wasn’t bad, but the wind chill was bitter cold. Still, I managed to be out for sunsets and sunrises every day. I’ve always wanted to photograph the Grand Canyon under winter conditions, and this was my chance.

A winter mantle of snow on the Grand Canyon at dawn

Sunrise from Mather Point, Grand Canyon, Arizona

Hoar frost and Pinyon Pine, south rim Grand Canyon, Arizona

We initially planned to remain at the canyon for five nights, but the weather was looking worse and worse. Not wanting to get stuck for an indefinite time, we decided to drop lower to sit out this storm cycle. We passed through Flagstaff and then descended to the Cottonwood area where we have been camped at Dead Horse Ranch State Park for the last week.

Tuzigoot National Monument, Arizona

Montezuma National Monument, Arizona

While in Cottonwood, we’ve visited Tuzigoot and Montezuma’s Castle National Monuments. These were great locations to learn about the early inhabitants of this region and see the structures they built and how they lived. The storms have come in wave after wave and we have ducked in and out of cover and sometimes hiked in the rain. One of our challenges this week is learning to control the condensation in the Scamp. The windows weep constantly, and our mattress is damp on the bottom where it contacts the cold fiberglass. We purchased a set of Dri-Deck rubber tiles, a product made for boats. We interlocked the tiles and cut them to match the rounded corners of the trailer bed platform. The tiles raise the mattress 9/16ths inch and allow air to pass under and the mattress so it can breathe. We uncovered our roof fan and programmed it to outflow at 10%. We also have a dehumidifying bag hung inside to help pull moisture out of the air, and most of the windows are covered with insulation. This is keeping the inside much drier. Tomorrow we drop down to a lower elevation further south where we should find warmer weather.

Red rock and approaching snow storm in Sedona, Arizona

Last light before the storm, Sedona, Arizona

A New Chapter, A New Journey

At the first of this year, I ended my lifelong career working in the theatre. Now begins a new chapter in our lives. Several years ago, in preparation for this time, we purchased a 16’ Scamp travel trailer. We’ve been learning the ins and outs of life on the road by going on short trips. Now we have embarked on our first major trek. We left our home in Orem, Utah a week ago and drove to Zion National Park. From here we travel on to warmer climate in Arizona. We plan to be gone for four weeks. When we return home, it will only be a short time before we head out once again.

Preparing the Scamp for our first month-long journey. We’ve made numerous trips on a long weekend and even for 5-7 days. This is our first time on the road for a month.

This will likely offer me an opportunity to devote more time to the blog as I find more time and vistas to photograph along the way. I also want to share my experiences in retirement and how we’ve learned to adjust from living in a four-level split home on a quarter acre of land to the 70 square-feet of space the Scamp offers us. So far, we’ve found that we are surprisingly comfortable.

Winter in Zion is a unique time. The leaves have mostly fallen and there is often ice to be found along the shores of the Virgin River. The crowds are largely gone during midweek and there is a beautiful serenity in the park, especially at this early hour.

Usually when we visit a National Park, we feel rushed to maximize the time we have and fill every minute with hikes and activities. With no schedule to keep, our days are long and slow. We pass the afternoon sitting in camp reading a book or visiting. I usually wake early and drive up the canyon to shoot. After an hour or two, I return to camp where Virginia has a hot breakfast waiting for me. Bedtime comes early once the sun goes down. One of the first advantages to retirement I noticed was that I began sleeping better, longer, and deeper. Where I used to get by on 4-5 hours of sleep a night while under the stress of production work, I now sleep a good 8-9 hours, and even get a nap in at times.

All seasons are beautiful in Zion. Winter allows one to see the structure of the park that is often hidden at other times of the year.

Sundays are a day of even greater rest as we tend to our church worship. We may take a walk in the afternoon, write letters, catch up with our children’s lives, or other family matters. This is a wonderful time for us.

I wonder if this stately gentleman feels much like I do at this stage of life called retirement.

Ice Blocks on Utah Lake

We’ve been under an inversion for a few days and I haven’t felt much like making photographs. There wasn’t nice light to chase and it was too cold to stand out in a field otherwise. I’ve been out a few times since Christmas, but there hasn’t been anything blog worthy. Yesterday, the air cleared, and the inversion lifted. I took the opportunity to visit Utah Lake State Park to see the ice mounding on the eastern side of the lake. It’s been building for a few weeks now and I’ve seen a lot of photographs on my social media feeds. I wanted to venture out onto the lake surface and shoot isolated fragments of ice. I took one step out and immediately broke through and sank to my ankle. Not otherwise prepared with waders, I was confined to shooting from shoreline. It was precarious for a 62-year-old man tottering around on the slick ice blocks with a backpack full of camera gear and flailing a tripod in the air. Other than breaking through the lake surface, there were no other mishaps. It is rare that I find an occasion to use my ultra-wide lens. Since it was the ice blocks I was after, I chose to drop as low to the surface as possible and emphasize their mass and grandeur. The setting sun created a nice focal point and the contrasting colors of the warm sunset and cool shadows made nice compositional elements. These are great winter scenes to add to my portfolio.

Utah Lake ice sculptures

Sun setting in the southwest sky at Utah Lake State Park

Refracted light in ice blocks at Utah Lake

Seagulls on Utah Lake

Autumn Returns to the Wasatch Mountains

Fall has arrived in the Wasatch Front of Utah. It’s a beautiful time of the year, especially in a year fraught with so much stress and turmoil. My blogging has slowed to a crawl over the course of the summer. While I’ve ventured out on occasion to make photographs here and there, mostly I’ve stayed put at home, waiting out the passing of the pandemic. I’m anxious for a vaccine and for life to return to a more normal state. I don’t believe we will go back to what it was before. I think that would be a sad situation, to not have learned from one to the great trials of our time. I expect a new normal and a better life. I have an itch that is getting harder and harder not to scratch. I have a deep yearning to be on the road and exploring new worlds and photographing what I find. Over the summer, we continued working on our travel trailer. We christened our home on wheels, the Betty Lou, after my mother. Soon, we’ll be rambling over blue highways and traveling the backroads of America, visiting as many National Parks and Monuments as we can string together. I hope you will join in our journey as you read my blog and look at the photographs. Please share with us your favorite outdoor hangouts so we can add them to our ever-growing bucket list of places to visit.

Mount Timpanogos from the Ridge Trail Complex. Hazy skies are due to the smoke drifting in from the west coast.

To acquire the image above, I began hiking at 6:00am Friday. I would have left sooner, but years ago I had an encounter with a moose in the dark and it scared the bejeebies out of me (I’m sure he was a carnivorous moose). In the dark, that same moose could be hiding behind any tree along the trail. With the sky turning grey and getting lighter every minute, I felt safer. Of course, leaving that late I would miss the first warm rays of sunlight striking the peak of Mount Timpanogos. As it turned out, we were under a heavy layer of smoke, presumably from the terrible wildfires in California and Oregon. I was skunked out of a sunrise anyway, so there was no point in getting to this magic spot any earlier.

The maples are the first to turn color and turn the hills to rusty oranges and reds.

I love the fall colors here. Before the aspen turn, we drift into a patchwork of oranges and reds as the maple, oak, and ashes begin their change. The hills are a patchwork of brilliant colors that remind me of nature’s quilt block. It’s like a blanket that lays across the hills and up the slopes of mountains.

Wildflowers still bloom in late summer on the Wasatch Back.

Last year, we didn’t have stunning colors. An early freeze fell across the state and stopped our autumn showcase long before it ever began. I wasn’t expecting much this year because it has been a long hot summer. Utah is officially in a severe draught. The colors seem a bit muted over prior years, but I won’t complain about the vivid colors I’ve enjoyed this weekend.

Provo Canyon color with trees backlit with the morning sun.

We have trips planned in the coming weeks and months, so I hope to return to a stronger pattern of blogging, writing, and mostly photography. If you live in Utah, now is the time to get and enjoy that drive across the mountains. Enjoy!

It has been a few years since we’ve seen these rich fall colors. Glad they made an appearance this year.

Spring Runoff

It is late spring in Utah, and the rivers are running high as usual for this time of year. There is a decent snowpack, but the last three months have been mostly dry. We’ve had a lot of rain this weekend and that will raise the level in the annual rain bucket. When you live in the arid southwest, you appreciate every storm that passes by. I’m venturing out more and more as the restrictions loosen with the virus and the weather permits. I went on a few hikes in the local mountains and canyons this week hoping to capture the feeling of the value of moisture in our desert landscape. It may seem like I am contradicting myself when I write of hikes in the mountains and the effect of water in our desert environment. The mountains and their snowpack are our primary reservoirs. These rivers and waterfalls eventually flow to the valley floors and feed into Utah Lake and then the Great Salt Lake. Before they reach the desert floor however, they enhance the mountain landscape with their fluid beauty. The deep rich green of the forest canopy and the lush meadows are teaming with wildlife. Soon the wildflowers will be in full bloom. I hope you enjoy these images of our current season.

This is a closer image of Upper Falls. The concrete collection structure can be seen at its base.

Down river 1/2 mile from Upper Falls is Bridal Veil Falls. This is a favorite walk for families throughout the year.

The snowpack on Mount Timpanogos drains from all around the mountain. Numerous falls and cascades flow down from the upper reaches of the mountain. This cascade is found on the Aspen Groves trail.

Provo River is the main drainage through my part of the valley. This water will eventually end up in Utah Lake about 8 miles away.

A soggy weekend in our state as a cold system has moved overhead for the last three days. This image is from the top of Rock Canyon, east of Provo City. In the upper right corner, are the vertical beds of rock marking the Wasatch Fault.

A fresh dusting of snow up above and a light drizzle of rain in the hills below. The fresh spring green dresses out the forest canopy. Soon the meadows will fill with wildflowers.

In Search of Toquerville Falls

I had to make a quick overnight trip to St. George, Utah yesterday to help my in-laws get their swamp cooler running in preparation for a big heat up coming this weekend. I haven’t done much hiking because of the virus situation and so I thought I would take the opportunity to explore a bit in the desert landscape of southern Utah. I’ve seen pictures on the internet of Toquerville Falls for several years and I’ve wanted to see and shoot it. The problem with this particular waterfall is its remote location and difficulty accessing it. I did a little research and found conflicting information, but in general, it didn’t seem overly hard. I got off I-15 on the Toquerville exit, drove into town and turned off on Spring Creek Rd. At the end of the pavement on the edge of town, I encountered a sign warning of the “Extreme Rough Road” conditions. I was driving my Toyota 4-runner, but I didn’t want to risk damage to my vehicle if it wasn’t necessary. A local informed me that it was only a two-mile hike. I figured I could easily do two miles, even if it was in the middle of the day during a building heatwave in the Utah desert. I parked my car on the side of the road, put on my pack, grabbed the sunscreen, and started walking.

Always be aware of extreme warning signs, especially when they are topped with razor wire!

My two-mile hike stretched to three miles, and then to four. It was a tough climb up a gnarly dirt road. After a while, another local drove past on her way down the mountain and stopped to show me a shortcut on an even worse jeep track off to my right. She assured me I would save lots of time and enjoy an easier path. Without a map in hand and not really knowing where I was going, I took her direction and began my descent down the mountain towards La Verkin Creek. It was a rough trail of scree rock and powdered dirt. Another mile passed underfoot, and it was getting hotter in the early afternoon sun.

Another view of my lonely surroundings

The landscape was desolate and beautiful, but I found it hard to enjoy as my concern grew that I was in a remote area of the state with no one around me, and no one knowing I was there. I only had one bottle of water and no indication of where this waterfall was.

I finally reached the river and began threading my way upstream crossing through the water several times as I continued up the old jeep track. Checking my cell phone, I noticed I still had a weak signal to the outside world. The thought occurred to me that perhaps my wilderness guide daughter might be able to help me out. I wondered if it would be possible to send her my GPS location and have her tell me if I was nearing the waterfall. Sadly, the signal wasn’t strong enough to get to her in a timely manner. After I figured I had gone 5.5 miles on a 2-mile hike, and I was hot and tired with 5.5 miles to go on my return 2-mile hike, I was ready to concede defeat. The last thing I wanted to do was be the headline for another search and rescue effort.

By now my feet were feeling sunburned because I chose to wear my Chaco sandals for the first time of the year. I was hot, dirty, and tired, and I had a mountain to climb on my way out. I was disappointed to not find the waterfall on my first attempt at Toquerville Falls. When I climbed up out of the canyon, I had enough signal to exchange numerous texts with my daughter and her husband. They could see exactly where I was on the map and I enjoyed a nice conversation with them about my adventures. I think on my next attempt to find this falls, I’ll take two seasoned guides with me ; )

Luckily, I parked near Ash Creek. When I finally returned to my car after my jaunt through the desert, I enjoyed a much deserved soak in the cool water to wash the 10 miles of dust off my feet and legs.

Farewell to Social Media, Hello Strawberry

In the time of covid-19 with so much uncertainty swirling around our lives, many are unemployed, or in my case, I’m employed, but my employer is having me stay home. I have several projects I work on from my personal computer, but I still have substantial portions of my day at my disposal. We practice social distancing as asked, and for the most part, we are good citizens who remain at home. Luckily, I have a backyard and garden where I can spend much of my leisure time. Last week, I spent an hour considering the accomplishments of my day, or days (or is it daze?), and wondered if I’m making the best use of my copious amounts of spare time. The sad realization is that I was spending (or squandering) hours of my time each day on social media; five minutes here and a half hour there. I always took time to check in at night before going to bed and it was usually the first thing I did in the morning. I would come in at lunch and make a salad, and while I ate, I scrolled through more feeds; Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, etc. Even with all this extra time at my disposal, I was horrified at the realization at what I had become. I was following feeds that were borderline corrupting my thinking. In fact, I began asking myself the question several weeks ago about several feeds, “Where is this leading me?” It was time to disconnect. I’ve deleted accounts before, usually arriving at the same place I was at on Friday. It only took about ten minutes to disconnect myself from Facebook and Instagram and delete those accounts. I kept YouTube because I do get a lot of enjoyment watching photography and gardening videos, and also America/Britain’s Got Talent. I didn’t feel they were leading me into “darkness”. After that 10-minute purge, I immediately began feeling relieved and happier. I no longer had anyone to keep up with. No compulsion to sink back into the mindless vortex of digital babel. The best part of the whole deal, I now have an extra two hours of each and every day back.

The Aspen forest at Strawberry is just beginning to emerge from winter and pushing out tender young leaves, once again forming a forest canopy.

The restrictions have begun easing a bit in Utah. We still need to practice social distancing, but if one is creative, one can still get out and see the beautiful world around us. Our son has been living fulltime in an RV with his family and they move around the state boondocking on federal land. The maximum stay is 14 days in one location. This week they moved to Strawberry Reservoir, only an hour away from our home. Since they were secluded in their campsite, and the maximum gathering group size has been raised to 20, we figured we could venture out in our Scamp and spend a few nights with them and see our two grandkids. It was wonderful to expand our horizons after two months of lockdown at home in Orem. Of course, I took my camera with me. With kids going to bed at 8:30 just at sunset, I grabbed my camera and took off for the nearby aspen forests to shoot. I also made it out each morning for sunrise while everyone else slept in. By the time I returned to the Scamp, grandkids were beginning to stir, and my wife had hot water ready to make a cup of tea. It was a wonderful way to break up our week.

In the lower washes, willows, ashes, and boxelders glow in the light of a setting sun. The willows in particular are beautiful with the smooth yellow bark catching the last rays of day.

The skunk cabbages are beginning to emerge in the meadows. Rendered in black and white, these plants make beautiful studies in soft tones and highlights.

The aspen forests are just beginning to wake up around our 8,000’ elevation campsite. The newly emerging leaves are soft velvety green and the flowers, when backlit, set the forest ablaze almost making it seem it was covered in frost. I’ve decided that an aspen forest has many faces. By far my favorite look is in the fall when the leaves are glowing in autumn colors. Winter is nice to see the thin spindly branches and the tall slender trunks. This time of year is also interesting as a green glow seems to hover over the forest.

When backlit by the morning sun, the Aspen forest takes on a quality reminiscent of fall. The new leaves sparkle and shine in light yellows and greens. This is another three image panoramic composition.

Shooting directly into the rising sun, which is just out of frame on the top, the backlit Aspen flowers almost look like frost in the atmospheric light.

Another three image panoramic composition stitched together, looking directly east into the rising sun.

A lot of snowmelt will be coming down from the higher slopes, watering the meadows and giving life to the wildflowers that are soon to follow.

What to Do During a Pandemic

Like most people these days, I am in self-imposed isolation, socially distancing, and confined to my ¼ acre bit of space called home. I pass my time while waiting for this evil virus to pass with reading, writing, gardening, and now a bit of photography. I seem to have more time on my hands than ever before, so why not put some time into the blog? I’ll not likely be making images of grand landscapes in the near future, although I may venture into the hills nearby on occasion. For now, I’ll share a few scenes I found around my home this morning and hope you take a few moments to enjoy the beauty of this season. It seems the earth isn’t threatened by the virus. We have storms passing through this week washing the landscape clean and encouraging bulbs to break forth from winter hibernation.

These Daffodils were planted in the fall. Several years ago, I came across a miniature variety called Tete-a-Tete. They only grow 6-8” tall and sport a small flower amid a grassy stem. I’m unsure why I’m drawn to this variety. It naturalizes well and will continue to spread through my garden in the years to come. It is one of the first flowers to bloom in the spring and a welcome sight at the end of a long and cold winter.

The fairy that watches over the waterfall.

I also found a garden fairy. Actually, we found the fairy at a local thrift store along with numerous other knick-knack fairy-like objects. The idea was to generate a playful imagination environment for the grandkids to play with when they are over. We hide the fairy objects around the yard and under plants in the hopes the grandkids will take hold and explore the yard more. We don’t care if the objects break, they only cost 50-75 cents each.

20 square feet of salad garden planted in January.

Lastly, this is my salad garden I planted in January. We were still blanketed in snow and quite cold overnight. The secret to this little patch was building a cold-frame lid for the garden bed. The area is four ft. by five ft., so I have 20 sq. ft. of salad garden. It contains a half dozen varieties of winter lettuce that survive the cold well (Landis, Black Seeded Simpson, Forellenschluss, Red Salad Bowl, and Parris Island Cos), spinach, tatsoi, mizuna (Japanese greens), claytonia (Miner’s Lettuce), arugula, kale, parsley, radicchio, red-veined sorrel, and mache. One day in February when the air temperature was in the 30’s, under the lid of the cold frame, the temperature was 103°f. I had to vent the garden bed on any day the sun was out in order not to cook my tender plants. With so much time on my hands, many more of the beds are also planted. The beets, radishes, turnips, peas have sprouted, and the cabbages, collards, broccolis, kales, and onions have been moved from under my grow lights in the basement to the garden beds. I’m currently hardening off four rhubarb plants and four thymes that will soon be in the ground.

I hope your days of hunkering down are happy and fulfilling. Best wishes to you all at this odd set of circumstances we are under.