Such a Day as This

Today the University of Utah celebrated ‘Employee Appreciation Day’. They decided to show us how much they appreciate us by spending a great deal of money on a party at the Olympic Park on the south end of Rice-Eccles stadium.

I attended the event with my good friend Coby and his employee Wade (also a friend). Right inside the first gate we found a new game. It consisted of two basketball backboard that were back to back. Two people would shoot baskets, facing each other while competing for 20 seconds. At the end of the 20 seconds the loser would get showered with water. I couldn’t step down from Coby’s challenge, so I stepped up and beat him by one basket.

After seeing Coby get drenched, and listening to him complain about baskets that he made that were not counted, we headed down to the field to kick a field goal. My kick was horrible. It peaked at about six feet before hitting the ground before it even reached the end-zone. I took solace in the fact that Coby’s kick was even more pathetic. After seeing our field goal kicking skills Utes coach Kyle Wittingham offered us full ride scholarships. He said that we were no worse than what he has currently. We politely declined before walking to the north end of the field to kick a soccer goal.

My goal clanged off of the left pole. But again I was no worse off than Coby, who sailed his shot well over the crossbar. Coby took a second shot and scored, but I decided not to re-kick. I had to let my friend beat me at something.

Before we made it to the food line for some pizza Coby challenged me to a rematch in the basketball. Once again he found himself soaked. I explained to him that a shooting contest with me is a losing proposition. We Shirleys are all endowed with soft shooting hands, except for Jeff, who couldn’t carry my jock. Still, Coby would grizzle about losing to me for the rest of the day.

After work tonight my friend Elisa and I went over to the Eccles broadcast building and volunteered to KUER’s fund drive. Our department has selected several service projects to support, and this was one of them. Our staff have volunteered for shifts taking donations by phone during the next week’s fund raiser. I had never been in a radio station, and had a great time.

KUER is the local source for NPR with such programs as Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me and Car Talk. We sat in a room adjacent to the broadcast booth, and could hear the hosts.

Steve Williams, who hosts Nighttime Jazz on the station came out to visit with us before taking over the boards. The subject of RadioWest tonight was strange baby names, specifically here in Utah. At the end of the show, the producer, in her last pitch for pledges thanked us volunteers by reading our names and ending with “…and Chris Shirley, who has informed me that in regard to baby names he wanted to name his first daughter Laverne Ann.” It was nice to hear her mention me over the air, but I hope that wasn’t my fifteen minutes of fame, since it only lasted 10 seconds…

Here are some recent family pictures that we had taken. All I have to say is: what a handsome bunch!

The 50/20

Earlier this week my Dad came out of an evening temple session, and smelling the September air and seeing the moon felt a wave of nostalgia for an experience we shared 16 years ago. It turns out that this weekend is the anniversary of the night we spent walking the 50/20.

The 50/20 was an annual endurance test given by the Squaw Peak Scouting District in Orem, and was discontinued just a year or two after we walked it. My guess is that it was abandoned because of liability issues. Here’s the premise: Individuals would start at This Is The Place Monument near the University of Utah anywhere between 4 and 8 PM on Friday night, and had up to 20 hours from the registered start time to walk the 50 miles to the BYU campus in Provo. I always felt like walking from the U of U to BYU was going the wrong way, but that’s just me. Participants had registration numbers written on their arms, and had to stop at several checkpoints to ensure people weren’t cheating and catching rides. The sponsors also had EMTs on bikes patrolling the route for those who needed assistance. Though the event was sponsored by a Boy Scout troop, it was open to anyone who wished to participate.

The year that we walked it nearly 1,500 people joined in to make the walk. Less than 300 finished. We had a group of about 18 people from our ward that started. Five of us finished, and of those 5, three were Shirleys.

We started about 5:30, and quickly the group separated. I was out front with my friend Dave, while my Dad hung back with the stragglers. Being the scout master he felt some responsibility to ensure that no one was left unattended. That nearly came back to haunt him.

For the most part Dave and I were surrounded by other walkers, and it was a pleasant stroll. The September evening was cool, but not cold, and the skies were clear and it was a beautiful night. My mother was to provide dinner at a medical clinic near our home, but Dave and I were so far ahead of the planned meeting time that we spent nearly an hour waiting for her to get there. Had we not been famished we would have pressed on without waiting. We also lost another half an hour when we got off the course in Lehi and had to back-track.

The midway point was at the point of the mountain on the frontage road. Just before getting there we were alone and had only the moon and the glow of the prison to guide us. It felt like walking on a treadmill. Dave took off his shoes at the mid point, and I thought he was done for. The mid point was where most of the people dropped out and it was after midnight when we arrived. But Dave put his soaking wet socks back over his blisters and we pressed on. Less than a mile later he was ready to drop out. We had no street lights, and I knew that he wouldn’t be found for quite some time if he quit then. So I piggybacked him to the next check point. It was probably only a mile, but it felt like 20. He was a portly young man.

Dave quit again less than five miles from the finish line. By then I was tired of his complaining, so I left him. He had only worn one pair of socks, and had blisters everywhere accompanying his leg cramps. I had no ill effects from the walking, so I wasn’t too sympathetic of his plight. I was a jerk even back then.

Fifteen hours after my start time I walked into the park at BYU. Our other scoutmaster was waiting with his RV van. I told him that I had left Dave behind, but as soon as I said that he pointed my friend out, hobbling into the park. Dave had tried to catch up to me before I finished, but failed. I found a bunk in the RV and heard nothing more for almost five hours.

After I finished everyone in the ward had been accounted for as either having finished or dropped out except for my Dad and sister, Allison. While I slept John went looking for them. By the time he found them Alley was ready to drop out. She was crying from the pain and limping. My Dad was beside himself with reproach for trying to get her through. John joined the group and began talking. He chewed Alley’s ear about everything under the sun. He talked so much that she couldn’t get a word in edgewise. His talking did the trick. She finally had something to take her focus from her anguish. With just minutes to spare Dad and Alley crossed the finish line.

The next day I had to give a talk in church. By then my legs were sore and tight, but not too bad. One of the girls in our ward also gave a talk, but she delivered hers while wearing slippers because her feet hurt. She had dropped out before the midway point. Wuss.

The event was a very important thing for me. I learned a lot about myself then. Dave and I played a lot of games to keep ourselves occupied. We counted all of the car dealerships and bars on State Street as well as playing song identification games to movie and TV songs. If I did it now I would probably plug in the iPod and plod away. It wouldn’t be the same. Part of the fun was sharing the experience with a friend until he quit, and the kinds of things I thought to keep occupied when by myself.

While passing the Southtowne Center mall that night we could see police and medical helicopters landing in the parking lot. The reason was that a man had taken hostages at Alta View Hospital just a few blocks away, and he later murdered a nurse. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alta_View_Hospital_hostage_incident

While it is sad that the 50/20 is not held any longer, I can understand why. In our litigious society the liability of having 1,500 people, some as young as 12, stretched out over 50 miles of road is a big liability. At one point while walking down State Street a man stumbled out of a bar in front of Alley and urinated on a telephone pole. We laugh about it now, but incidents could easily happen. I am just grateful that I had the chance to participate. Nowadays when I am ‘running’ my annual marathons I spend a great deal of time reflecting on the 50/20, and the things I learned about my own determination, pacing, enjoyment and endurance.

Oh, My Gourd-ness!

The kids are excited about our bounteous harvest of pumpkins this year. Each of them has a pumpkin as big as their body, plus about four more smaller ones each. But who needs goofy looking jack-o-lanterns when you already have such goofy looking kids?

Of course, Bean wouldn’t allow herself to be in the picture with the rest of the kids. She had to have one all to herself. “I’m ready for my close-up.” She said to me.

Dropping the hammer

I always thought that Patrick got his skill for fixing things from his Grandpa Stretch. I hoped that the coordination came through the Shirley line. But my hopes were dashed last night after Patrick blacked his eye by hitting himself with then claw of a hammer. I guess when it comes to coordination he inherited it from the Christiansen side....

Getting ‘The Shaft’

It started almost a year ago. During a conversation about long term plans Kate mentioned that the house hadn’t been painted on the inside for nearly 8 years. She wanted to upgrade, but said that she didn’t want to do anything until I got done with school. I graduated in May. Kate didn’t say anything, but in early August she informed me that she was going to paint Patrick and Samantha’s room. Soon she was painting Whitney and Bean’s room. When she started painting our room, I finally got the message.

Our little renovations have turned into a nice upgrade which includes ( or will include if we ever get done) new paint top to bottom, new light switches and outlets, a new ceiling fan, new skirts for the stairs, a fireplace, new carpet, new kitchen cabinets (last on the list) and a skylight in the upstairs hallway.

I must admit that the skylight was a project that was started over a year ago when the swamp cooler came off and we re-roofed. Instead of patching the roof and hallway, we installed the skylight and packed the inside where the vent is with some towels. But hey, better late than never. Grandpa Stretch and I framed the shaft, I insulated it, and we sheet rocked it and painted. And don’t ever say the word ‘shaft’ to Kate. She’ll start giggling and making sexual comments. She is not very mature. I would never act in this manner.

I am trying to do as much of the work as possible. I don’t want Kate to be the only one working hard for this upgrade. In order to pay for it all she has picked up extra shifts at work. She now works 7 PM to 7AM Friday night, goes to bed about 8AM on Saturday, gets up at 1 PM, and works 3 PM to 7 AM Sunday morning. A 12 hour shift followed by a 16 hour shift. I think she’s nuts, but as she points out it is better to be tired than house-poor.

I did take a break from applying latex to my shaft on Saturday to attend Patrick’s soccer game. His team won 8-5, which means that in their first three games his team has outscored their opponents 33-8. Very scintillating competition. Maybe Real Salt Lake should contact these boys for pointers on how to score. But Patrick’s team wasn’t my only favorite team to win on Saturday. The Utes faces an 11th ranked UCLA team, and were supposed to get smashed. It turns out that the Utes beat the tar out of the Bruins. And to make things even better, BYU lost to Tulsa in a game that they should have won. It was a good day.
But I digress. Of the 33 goals scored by Patrick’s team, he has scored zero. But that’s okay. He’s a team player. Last week on his turn to kick a goal kick, he chipped the ball, which sailed over all of the players on both teams, and rolled nearly the length of the field before anyone was able to catch up to it, His team mate only had to tap it once to score. So even though he isn’t scoring, he can say that he got an assist from a goal kick, which no one else on his team can say.
Patrick is on a team of five. His team mates are Marcos (who scores most of the goals), Canyon, Harley and Journey. I guess we just picked a boring name for Patrick…

Egged On

This afternoon I was chastised for not blogging in almost 2 weeks (Tara). But I wanted to wait until something blog-worthy came up. This week we had a couple of things.

The biggest news is that Whitney competed in her school’s egg-drop contest today. The idea of the contest is that the students design something that when dropped will not allow the egg inside to break. However, I find that this contest is a lot like the pinewood derby: The best entries are usually designed by parents.

Kate’s…er…Whit’s design was a small shoebox with a hole in each end. The toe-end of a pair of pantyhose was slipped through one side, after which the egg was slipped into the nylon. The hose were then tied off on both ends, preventing the egg from bouncing against the bottom of the box when dropped. A few test runs off of our roof proved the design, but just for added support, Kate got two pieces of foam and cut squares out of them, slipping the box into them.

Whitney came home from school with a certificate of congratulations for winning the egg-drop contest. She’s a genius I tell you!

Speaking of Whit, she asked Kate tonight, “Is it really bad to say ‘F*** you’?” While sharpening a knife in preparation for killing me, Kate asked Whit where she heard those words. “On the bathroom wall at school. It also says ‘damn’ and ‘hell’.” I am glad to see that she is learning something at school. Education dollars well spent.

Patrick also started school. I asked Kate if she cried when dropping him off for his first day of kindergarten. “Hell no!” She said. “He’s finally out of the house five days a week!”




During Patrick’s kindergarten evaluation his teacher decided to have him share a desk with a child from Africa who speaks little English. She said that she wants this boy to be around someone who has strong verbal skills. I thought that was a nice compliment to P-Boy. What Patrick teaches this young man remains to be seen…