Chicago, I Would Like to Love You, But . . . .

Thursday I had a professional conference in Chicago, hopefully learning how to be a better General Counsel. After arriving Wednesday night I woke to a sunny, crystal clear, 68 degree day, which got me out and about at lunchtime.

I learned that Lake Michigan is big . . . like, really BIG.  I also learned that Chicagoans really seem to like the cold -- not outside, a perfect 68 degrees which was fine for me, but apparently it was reason for Northwestern University to absolutely crank the air conditioning in the auditorium where the conference was being held -- I think I have found Rick Bozzelli's people.  I had to wear a coat just for sitting inside.

Once the first day was over, I headed out into a spectacular Chicago evening.

Birthplace of the Skyscraper and home of Frank Lloyd Wright, it is a wonderful feast for the eyes just to walk around and see the architecture as the evening sets in.

Plus their street art is kind of cool.

I found a little sidewalk Italian cafe advertising the "best spaghetti and meatballs ever," and had to try it out.

They were right!  I thought, 'I could really like this town, the only thing missing is my beautiful wife.'  She is my forever travel buddy, and I can't go anywhere on my own without really missing her.

Lost in that thought, I wandered back towards my hotel, when suddenly I was jolted by this:

"Not Ostentatious" as Kate said sarcastically after I texted her a picture (as to that text -- who doesn't enjoy annoying their teenage daughter, right?).  It was definitely a scar on an otherwise beautiful city, and I am telling you, from the moment I saw it, everything changed.

The next morning, I woke up too late, to a pouring rain. Lunch at the conference left much to be desired, and what I ate gave me a stomach ache that I thought was going to turn out much worse than it ended up (thank you Tums).  I left the conference earlier than I wanted to because I was worried about getting to the airport through traffic for my 6:30 flight (and people in Chicago apparently believe that even conferences should go to the very end of the Friday workday).  I proceeded to sit in standstill traffic for at least an hour and a half, only to arrive at the airport and find out that my flight was delayed until 10:00 that evening.  Despite my best wandering around forever efforts I found only very mediocre food, and then settled in, having plenty of time to explore. The only positive was finding this F4F Wildcat.

Then it got worse.  I thought it was raining before, but I had no idea. "Rain" in Chicago also apparently means lightning every five seconds or less.  Kathleen later told me that 5 inches came down in an hour.  Of course, and appropriately, this meant flights being cancelled right and left.  Except mine. Delta kept telling me, "delayed by one hour," again and again. At 10:00 pm, the plane we were waiting for was just pushing back from the gate in Salt Lake City, and I asked the Chicago gate attendant, "are you sure that the plane will actually take off if it lands here at two in the morning?"  Just as I said that, Delta sent me a text saying my flight was rescheduled to 2:24 am.  So I sat, and waited in an uncomfortable blue chair. Meanwhile, this was going on all around the airport:

Thinking I would be leaving, I did not grab a cot when they started laying them out.  Silly me.  At 1:00 am I received a text from Delta saying "Your flight has been delayed until 9:00 a.m. Saturday September 28. Sorry for the inconvenience."  Really, it said exactly that.  WHY couldn't they have told me that at 9:00 pm, when I could have had a cot, or better yet, high-tailed it for a hotel and some decently long sleep?  AAARGHHH.   Staring at my blue chair, I just couldn't do it, so I called the downtown hotel where I had been staying, begged them to put me up for the next five hours, grabbed a cab, and proceeded to have the most expensive four hour sleep in all the history of my sleeping.  The plane didn't take off until 10:30 Saturday morning, leaving me dragging my poor tired butt back to my family at 3:00 pm, having wasted half the weekend.

Lessons learned:

1) O'Hare is purgatory, avoid it like the plague;

2) Delayed planes NEVER take off at 2:00 a.m., no matter what any idiot airline is telling you; and

3) Whenever you see the word "TRUMP, " avert your eyes like your life depends on it -- it will infect your life with chaos otherwise.

You have been warned.

Fire In the Hills

Away at a corporate retreat on Friday (August 30^th 2019), I woke at about 5:30 am and, looking at my phone, was greeted by these words from my wife:   “Wildfire on the hill. Boys and Pets at Kevin’s. Neighborhood has been evacuated. Nothing you can do.”  My heart sank and my mind raced. I headed home as quickly as I could get there. The story is really Kathleen’s, and all of my wonderful neighbors to tell, as I was about as useless as a man can be during the critical hours, sound asleep with my phone turned off.  Here is what they told me. 

Our ward members down the hill on Ninth East, Lisa and Luke Wait, had stayed up watching the Utah BYU Football game, the end of which had been significantly delayed by lightening striking in the area.  She recalls looking outside up the hill, in the direction of our home, at around 12:50, and not noticing anything out of the ordinary. 

Steve and Emily Swenson, who live just a few doors down from the Waits, had also been up late watching the game and were going to bed. Steve just happened to take one final look out of his bedroom window, up the hill towards our house, at 12:55, and saw a huge orange glow. They immediately jumped in their car,  and drove up the hill on Northern Hills and then Northridge Drive (our street).  What they saw scared them, and was hard to digest.  A huge grass fire was bearing down on the homes on the North side of Northridge drive (across the street from us) and no one was stirring – no dogs barking, no sirens wailing, nothing. 

The Swensons began furiously knocking on doors, starting with the Asays (house pictured above), just across the street from us and up one house, as that home looked to be most threatened.

Half way across the city to the south, on the other side of Millcreek, Kathleen’s brother Kevin was tired and in and out of sleep after watching a movie.  He happened to look out his bedroom window, and saw fire racing down hill towards the house where he grew up, and where Kathleen and I now live. At 1:02, he called Kathleen.  Somehow, completely out of routine, she had not put her phone on silent that evening, of all evenings.  And somehow, even harder to believe, in a deep sleep with earplugs in and a sleeping mask on, she heard the phone ringing.  Throwing on a skirt and going to look out the front door, she saw a wall of flame bearing down on the neighbors' houses across the street.  There were no sirens sounding,  and no officials on the road that she could see.  She thought, “we’re done for.”  She ran downstairs to wake the boys, telling them "we have to evacuate" and to get dressed and get the cats.

Alden, thinking very clearly, kept Toothless shut in his room and ran upstairs to get the cat carriers.  He remembers coming upstairs and seeing nothing but bright orange light coming in through all of the windows.  He grabbed the cat carriers, and with Keegan’s help loaded up Toothless, Skylar and Grace (who by no small miracle was inside that evening sleeping on the couch downstairs), found a makeshift box for Kronos (our much neglected Bearded Dragon, who was almost forgotten) and together with Keegan packed them up to the car – no small feat, given that it involved herding cats.

Meanwhile, Kathleen was upstairs,  first deciding what you should wear to a fire (definitely not a skirt), and then grabbing our important papers, toiletries, etc.  Loading up everyone in the suburban, and looking across the street at the approaching fire, she decided she had time to run back in and grab the external hard drives off my computer (where we keep all of our photos) and my recently purchased (and very expensive) camera.  While she did that, Alden took a video of the fire, on which cats are meowing like the end of the world (or a trip to the vet, whichever might be worse) and Keegan can be heard saying, “Oh great, Mom is going to get us killed for a camera.” In the video, you can see the wind blowing hard which explains how quickly the fire moved and spread.

From there, they fled to Kathleen’s father's house, just down the street (which was also in the evacuation zone), where Kevin met them and took the boys, pets and key things to his house.  Kathleen, being who she is, then went back into the neighborhood to help fight the fire.  Some firefighters were on the scene; one of them asked her if she had a garden hose. She ran back to the house, got it, went over to the Asays, (which was still under threat from fires right under its eaves on the east side), hooked it up and started pouring water into the flames. Clair Asay would later credit her (“all five foot one, ninety five pounds of her” in his words) with helping save his house. (She indignantly told him that she is at least 5'2"). 

At that point, the Pyper’s home, across the street and one down from our house (the second house down from the Asays), had started on fire.   

In between Asay’s and the Pypers was Mitri Muna’s house, which has a shake shingle roof and is mostly wood, with lots of wood decking and tall pine trees and scrub oaks around it. Mitri was out there with hoses, wetting down everything he could.  Roger Peck, a neighbor from down the street and around a bend or two, somehow was there helping.  Kent Whitehead, two doors down from Pyper’s, was video taping from his home while running the sprinklers, looking up hill past Bacons and to where Mitri and other homes were. His video shows the intensity of the flame at around 1:48, and it is a thing that looks to consume all in its path.  Mitri’s trees in back were beginning to catch fire, and further down the street from Kent, flames were approaching the Brownings' and  the Summers' homes, which looked to be right in the path of the approaching holocaust. 

Then, suddenly, the wind shifted, blowing the flames away from Northridge Drive. Mitri calls it an absolute miracle, as did the Brownings and the Asays. Kent Whitehead actually caught the windshift on video, at 1:50 a.m. It sends chills up my spine to see it – the fire practically goes out, as it is forced back onto burned out areas that are deprived of fuel. Here is Kent's video:

A long night was ahead, with Kathleen and others in the ward on our street continuing to spray water on embers and hotspots, but now with more firefighter help, some having arrived from as far away as Clinton.  The authorities remained highly concerned for two more days about potential windshifts and sparks re-igniting the flames or jumping fire lines.   We were not allowed back into our house officially until Saturday at around 9:00 am, after a lot of airdrops with fire retardant.  

In the left of the photo above, you can see the blackened patch that is next to the Asays, where it came down beside their home, which is just out of site to the left. They are dropping retardant close by.  When we got back in, it was clear how close it had come. 

Looking up hill from the Asay's back yard.

Looking at Muna's back yard and the Pyper's beyond.

All this caused by a simple, untended campfire, which we went to see a few days later.

I suppose that could make you very angry, and it kind of does, that people are so careless with things that can really harm others.

But then I think about all the early warnings, from people who just happened to be up at 12:55 a.m., and the sudden wind-shift -- things could have been soooo much worse.  Knowing the people in my ward, and neighborhood, how good they are, how hard they work to practice the real gospel of caring for and helping others, and the feeling of just how special this neighborhood is, I feel certain that the wind-shift was heavenly help.  My neighbors are also certain of that fact.  I know not everyone benefitted, and that some good people lost homes. That is one of the hard things about really believing in miracles -- why do some have them and some not?  I don't have all the answers -- all I can do is trust in God that in time, things will work out for those who lost homes, and that God will be there in the process for them. But I can't let the lack of answers change what I really feel deep in my heart -- that this was divine intervention, and rather than angry, I am simply grateful.

This past week, they found the two individuals, as yet unnamed, that had left the fire without putting it out.  The Taylors, one of the families that lost everything, immediately came out with a statement that they held no ill will.  It shows exactly what I mean when I say Bountiful, and this neighborhood, is just such a special place. We are so lucky to live where we do, despite these recent events.  But it is the character of the people, and not the things, that make it that way. 

Bali High!

We finished out our trip last summer with four days in Bali, Indonesia.  First stop there was Mu Bali Resort, which Nate (Kathleen's brother) found for us.  A long drive out of Denpasar to the south (not by distance, but traffic in Bali is among the worst I've experienced -- just too many visitors and other people for the invariably narrow, two lane roads), we arrived to this small driveway into the resort, which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere special:

It did not overwhelm us at first approach, but then we went inside, to really see our rooms.  I'll let the pictures tell the story.

We could have spent a week here and never left our "room!"  It was truly amazing.  The kids enjoyed the pool from moment one, they brought breakfast to us in our own dining room every morning, and we lazed and lounged to our heart's content in what was truly spectacular space.

There were frogs in the pool, but whether that is a bad thing or not really depends upon your perspective.

That wasn't all there was to this place, however, as nice as all that was. We headed out our door, and past a couple of gates:

To find this:

Which overlooks this:

and has all these amazing huts around, where you can just lounge about listening to the waves break on the reefs below.

The one on the left here is where they do massages.  You know we indulged. There is nothing quite like a Balinese massage listening to the sound of the surf breaking, at a perfect temperature, with the lightest of breezes wafting across your body.  Bali High indeed!  I mean just look at these people below -- are they not happy and relaxed as can be?  OH YEAH.  Kari, Kathleen's sister, and her daughter Erin were with us, as was Nate, Kathleen's brother (on the right), and his wife Amy.  Nate and Amy found this place for us, and do we ever owe them (in more ways than one) for an incredible experience.

There were great tide pools in the reefs down below the resort. We went down one evening, and here is a sampling of what we found:

I mean, where else can you find blue sea stars? Plus little teeny eels and a crazy kaleidoscope of colors, not to mention the most camouflaged crab in the history of the planet. The kids had a blast!

The next morning, we prevailed upon the resort to set us up (well, some of us under, say, the age of 55) with surf lessons, which they did at the Belangan Wave Surf School at Belangan Beach.  Here is how it started:

And then the really hard parts began.

It took a bit, but Alden finally caught on pretty well.

Kate had a little tougher time, though she had done this before. It is just not as easy as everyone makes it look.

Kathleen even got up a couple of times!

She also got down . . . .

In the end, it was a pretty great time. The surf school did a really nice job of trying to help everyone have a positive experience.

We returned to the hotel to lounge and enjoy some massages in this island paradise.  Unfortunately, no paradise is without its snake, and as we were doing yoga and massage in the compound, disaster struck, courtesy of this spot:

Boys being boys, Alden, Keegan and Jonah, Nate and Amy's youngest, decided this place was perfect for a game of king of the hill. Of course it was not, and the result was poor Jonah flying backward to have his head impact the corner of the pool, resulting in a huge and very bloody gash on the back of his beautiful redheaded head.

Alden may have been the one that unintentionally caused it -- I found him crying about it later in his bedroom.  Given how severe the accident was, I would have completely understood an emotional and angry reaction from Nate and Amy. But they were unbelievably kind to my son, Amy even telling him it was an accident and things happen sometimes, so he should not blame himself.  That one brought a tear to my eye -- I will never forget that superhuman kindness.  You learn a lot about people in moments like those, and both Nate and Amy are just amazing and wonderful people. How lucky I am to call them family.

Speaking of lucky, it turns out that so many Australians get hurt surfing in Bali, they have funded a very nice hospital, with great care, which Nate and Amy were able to find. Jonah got excellent medical attention, and we learned that he is one tough little hombre -- he was up and about the next day, no signs of concussion, just a bunch of stitches.

It was a horrifying 24 hours, and cost him and Nate and Amy the opportunity to travel with us to Ubud (they wanted to keep Jonah under observation near the hospital), but all in all we are so grateful for the way things turned out.

Ubud was ok, but for the distance the drive there took incredibly long.  Narrow two lane roads and tons of traffic will do that to you.  After visiting Jonah in the hospital, we stopped for pizza along the way.

We arrived late at night, to a house Nate had reserved for us clear on the northern outskirts of the town.  It was quite rustic. You could only reach it by walking narrow, muddy paths between rice paddies (luckily they had sure-footed porters to carry the luggage, or I am sure I would have ended up as a muddy mess). When we woke up the next morning, here is what we saw:

A great deal more rustic than MuBali Resort, for sure, and quite open to a fully natural space, for better or worse (luckily, we didn't actually see anything seriously malicious wander in).  What I will never forget about this place, though, is the sound of the frogs.  At night, it is a symphony like no other, with so many different calls and croaks that they practically harmonize.  Really amazing.

As it was Ubud, we began our days at 7:00 am with Yoga instruction on a deck in the home, with frogs still croaking all around. Here was our very knowledgeable yoga instructor:

On our first day there we hired a driver (this fine gentleman below, who was kind, patient and excellent, with great english--wish I could remember his name), who picked us up after Yoga and began leading us through the various temples and sites of Ubud.

It turns out Ubud is very touristy - by far the most touristy place we visited.  Narrow streets, filled with shop after shop catering to foreigners -- it has been transformed by the travel industry into anything but the quaint and unique place I am sure it used to be. Still, there were things that reminded you it was not just your same old tourist trap, like the time we were driving by building after building, only to see a large pyre of fire in the yard next to one of them with many, many people standing around. When I asked our driver what it was, he said, "Oh, it is a cremation. Do you want to stop?"  That was a "NO," both because it felt disrespectful and because well, smoke and fumes.

Quirky things like that aside, there are many things to enjoy there, and we took Savannah and Avery (Nate and Amy's daughters) with us and tried our best to have a great time.  Our first stop was the Gunung Kawi Sebatu, more commonly known as the Water Temple, dedicated to one of the three Hindu gods, Vishnu, who rules over water.  It was a beautiful and peaceful place.

 From there, we headed to our next stop, the Tegallalang rice terrace, which was also touristy, but quite beautiful in  its way. Sadly they had just harvested, so there was a lot of mud, rather than fully grown rice plants, but it was interesting in any event.

From there, we grabbed a quick lunch, then headed to the Goa Gajah elephant cave, and associated temple. Here are a few pics:

As you can see, the surrounding gardens were beautiful. Following that excursion, we headed for our last place of the day, and my personal favorite place in Ubud, the Ubud Monkey Forest.

It does not take long to realize that we are not in Kansas any more, Dorothy -- only in southeast Asia would you see fountains and statutes like this . . .

Despite the touristy nature of this place, you can't help but feel like you have stepped into an Indiana Jones movie -- you are in a whole temple complex, overtaken by the most amazing forest, where even without the monkeys, you feel like you have stepped back in time to some really ancient and hidden world.

But then there are the monkeys -- everywhere-- that you can't help but stop and watch and smile.

The grey long-tailed macaques can be quite aggressive with your bag, and violent with each other, but also pretty cute, as the little one above certainly attests.

After that very busy day, we headed back to the house, to eat some food and pack up, as we would head out to the airport for our very long transit back to Singapore, and then a day later, back to the states.  On the way out of town, though, we headed down to see our last site in Ubud, the Tegenungan Waterfall.  Here are our last photos from our entire Southeast Asia trip:

It was a nice waterfall, at the end of a short hike.  That said, I don't know if we saw the best in Ubud, but I am not dying to go back. Perhaps other parts of the island would be interesting, but for now, we have had our fill, as there are a lot of islands in the ocean!