Whoops!

Today at work I was working through some problems with our subcontractors at BYU (fun to have contracts with my grad-school advisor), and I mentioned one of the big gaps in the research to date.  This was a realm where we don't really have any theoretical results to back up our practical observations.  I'm all for observations, but unless you can prove it, the observations are ... just observations.

An hour after the phone call, one of the graduate students sent me a paper he had written for a class project that shows some justifications with some theoretical background for me to review, and I printed it and left it on the printer for a few minutes.  The CEO and founder of my company stopped by my desk a few minutes later and asked about this document that had been generated for a class project-- because it had been a derivative work from one of his seminal papers from 1971!  The student cited his sources, but agreed that there wasn't much new or innovative beyond the 1971 paper.  Our CEO asked to keep that copy and wanted to review it.

Here's the good part.  When the student replicated the original work, he hadn't realized that the original author was my company's founder, much less thought that his replica of the work would be snatched off the printer by the originator   He was mortified.  When I told him that his document was under review by "one of the greats" I'm pretty sure he felt like slinking into a crevice somewhere.  He didn't do anything wrong, but he certainly was embarrassed to have overlooked the connection!

Well, we all do embarrassing things sometimes.  Here I will share two old ones, and two new ones, just so you can laugh at me.  Cause that's what embarrassment does for a person--provides joy for others.

Old #1.

Elder Jackson and Elder Landon playing the Nose Harp, Spring 2002, England London Mission.

 My mother has helped me develop many talents.  One of those is playing the nose harp.  I must say I am quite good at it, and my harp has near-perfect pitch and a wonderful kazoo-style buzz.  You can try too!  Wrinkle your nose, hum a tune, and strum one nostril while holding the other one closed.  Nominally, this is not (too) embarrassing.  The level of embarrassment increases drastically if you have biological projectiles awaiting the first pluck of the old pipes.  My most recent attempt proved to be a catastrophe, and I abandoned my solo.

Old #2.

Elder Jackson, Winter 2001, at the Lowestoft Flat.

This was a time when I had... swelled a bit.  I don't look so bad here, but I gained about 30 pounds at one point as a missionary, and thus, my clothes wore a bit differently.  Here we see the results of changes in geometry matched with riding a bicycle every day.  JCPenney was good to sell me a suit with two sets of trousers, because once someone identified that my whites were showing through my blacks, I couldn't get changed fast enough!

New #1.

I was at a training meeting last month with a small group of participants and one trainer.  (It was a Scout Leader training for Venturing, for those interested.)  I was loving the material, and was enthusiastic with my responses to the trainer's questions.  At one point when the trainer was describing a particular part of the organizational structure, I (accidentally) reverberated my chair with a wee bit of flatulence.  (Is there a more polite way of saying that?)  

I was willing to be mature and just ignore it, as were my fellow participants.  However, the trainer, a very polite and respectable older man, had thought I was volunteering an interjection and had something to say.  "Yes Joe?"  Only, I could think of nothing to say to recover, so I awkwardly fumbled, "Oh, nothing, carry on!"  At that point, two of my classmates looked at me with a wink and a nod, as if to say, "Hahahahhahahahaha!!!!"

New #2.
This problem is more typical of men/boys.  My mom had a code-word.  XYZ stood for eXamine Your Zipper. Very discreet.  Well, it's tough to be discreet when you discover you are standing for the rest hymn very reverently up on the rostrum in front of 200 of your fellow-worshippers, and you discover you have 3.5 verses until the song is over and you can sit down again.  The most agonizing 3.5 verses of my life.  

There are several  reasons this problem might come about.  When I was a kid, I used to have a pair of jeans with a slippery zipper.  I probably celebrated the day when I outgrew them after the constant attention they required.  The offending trousers this summer had a button, a hook, and a zipper.  Getting 2 of the 3 fit the normal rhythm of dressing in my typical pants, and I have neglected part three on multiple occasions with these slacks.
In a small group, it's easy to cover the offending zipper until an opportune time comes.  But when you are holding your hymnbook at chest-level, THEN what do you do?  Turn around to face the wall?  Slowly drop my hymnal to waist level?  Clasp my hands in front of me to obscure the XYZ issue?  Do a quick down-and-up fixer action?  I couldn't think of anything that wouldn't draw attention.  So I wore it well until the hymn was over.  Luckily, most people don't watch the conductor when they sing.   Quick as a flash, while people were transitioning to be seated, I tugged the old YKK until I was secure again.  

Nobody said anything about it.  But still, I'm tortured to think, "How many people wanted to give me a wink and a nod as if to say, 'Hahahhahahah!'"?

Went to the temple.

So when I say that phrase, most of the LDS readers in this audience might think of this:

Boston Temple via.

Or if you knew I was in Washington DC this week you might have thought of this:

Washington DC Temple via.

But instead, I'm going to talk about this:

Rapeseed fields near Cressing Temple with Elder Jackson, June 2001.

In the background there, you see the Cressing Temple and Barns.  Here's the run-down, from Wikipedia:

Cressing Temple is an ancient monument situated between Witham and Braintree in Essex and was founded in 1137 by Matilda of Boulogne, the wife of King Stephen. It was the headquarters of the first grant of land given to the religious order of the Knights Templar in England. The two barns and the templar well which exist on the site, originate from this period. The Wheat Barn and the Barley Barn are the two finest Templar-built barns in Europe while the Barley Barn is recognised as the oldest timber-framed barn in the world.

Check out this guide from the temple website. 

 So now, who are the Knights Templar again, and why do they need barns? Again, from Wikipedia:

The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, commonly known as the Knights Templar, the Order of the Temple or simply as Templars, were among the most famous of the Western Christian military orders. The organisation existed for nearly two centuries during theMiddle Ages.
Officially endorsed by the Catholic Church around 1129, the Order became a favoured charity throughout Christendom and grew rapidly in membership and power. Templar knights, in their distinctive white mantles with a red cross, were among the most skilled fighting units of the Crusades. Non-combatant members of the Order managed a large economic infrastructure throughout Christendom, innovating financial techniques that were an early form of banking,^[6][7]and building fortifications across Europe and the Holy Land.

And further down:

Although the primary mission of the Order was military, relatively few members were combatants. The others acted in support positions to assist the knights and to manage the financial infrastructure. The Templar Order, though its members were sworn to individual poverty, was given control of wealth beyond direct donations. A nobleman who was interested in participating in the Crusades might place all his assets under Templar management while he was away.  

It doesn't take much looking to find that the Templars had much influence in England.  I visited several ancient sites like this round church while there as a missionary.

Hedingham Castle at the village of Castle Hedingham.  

This Castle is where Matilda, who founded the Cressing Temple,  died  in 1152.  You can rent the castle's great hall if you want to host a wedding there.  Otherwise, the castle appears to be occupied by the owner's son and daughter-in-law and small children (how cool would it be to be raised in an ancient castle?). 

Associated with the templars are pilgrims, who would visit the Holy Land, even amid the war and turmoil.  They were permitted to visit Jerusalem as long as they were unarmed.  I wonder if that's why one of these stone figures of pilgrims have been unarmed?

Pilgrims at Finchingfield

When I took this picture, I thought it curious that some mischievous person inscribed the tomb with graffiti, "1755", right above the man's bicep.

Well, maybe we're not so different than the ancient pilgrims and Knights Templar as the principles of visiting holy places, contributing our means to funding the Lord's effort, and sending (peaceful) missionaries to reclaim the souls of men are still in effect.

"To you who are worthy and able to attend the temple, I would admonish you to go often. The temple is a place where we can find peace. There we receive a renewed dedication to the gospel and a strengthened resolve to keep the commandments."

—Thomas S. Monson

Faux pas.

The scene: September 2001.
Location: Newmarket England.
Time of day: about 9 pm.
Date:  just about any.

I don't know if I have any persistent phobias, but during this particular season of my life, I had a terrible fear of-- wait for it -- snails.

credit

Yes, they are harmless enough.  They are slow moving and not likely to attack.  But for some reason, at just the right time in the evening that year in that town, they became very active critters.  They paved the sidewalks, and every couple of steps in the dark I'd get a crack-squish under my shoe that was very disconcerting.  The displeasure was immediate and lingered on for a while because each of those steps constituted the loss of a life (form).  Sad day for the snails.  My shoes served death to all upon whom they trod.  It was probably heightened by the scarring memory of camping in the back yard in Tennessee and running around in the dark barefoot, then slipping and falling on my hiney when I stepped on a gigantic slug.

As a missionary, we called a spontaneous teaching appointment where someone invited us in off the street a  "step-in" teaching appointment.  These teaching opportunities were celebrated, and much more favorable than the other kinds of step-in, which sometimes included dog feces.  In the case of the snails for those couple of weeks, they'd be more of a step-on.

I bring this up because tonight I stepped on a cucumber slice that my youngest left as a booby trap for dear old dad, right in the middle of the kitchen floor.  I stepped on it, the slice squished, my foot slid.  The terror of the snails rushed back to my memory.  Terrible.  Just terrible.  Hypnotherapy?

Here's a spontaneous list of things which have been under-foot this year in our household.

Object	Pain Level	Squirm Level	General Appraisal
Cucumber Slice	0	9	Contributes to loss of balance, a relatively unpleasant squish/slide with the vegetable underfoot.
Bouncy Ball	3	1	I nearly biffed it big-time on this one.  I felt like those elephants on Dumbo, doomed to be buried in the tent.
Jack	5	2	Yeah, that was bad.  Jacks are spikey.  The squirm came from the thought of my foot being impaled.
Poop on a Rug	0	5	Trumps the cucumber slice in squirm factor.  How'd the poop get abandoned there, anyway?
Needle	4	3	It hurt pretty bad, but there was alot of other anguish at the thought of them lurking in the carpet waiting.
Die Cast Airplane	4	1	If only it were a Tonka Town toy, where everything is rubberized...
Duplo Blocks	4	0	Just painful enough to have disdain and occasionally feel like they should be banished for a few weeks.
Scattered books	1	2	This is a "pain of guilt." It's really my fault, thinking that the bookshelf at the bottom of the stairs was a good idea.
Cheerios/Kix	1	5	The sound of Kix popping sounds JUST like the sound of a snail shell being obliterated.
Grapes	3	1	Yeah, and the grapes feel JUST like the squish of the snail corpse.

I highly doubt that mine is the only house where things get stepped on.  Tell me, what's the worst thing you've stepped on, and what makes it so bad?


P.S. When I was looking for that snail URL, I came across this neat art project.  Check it out: Urban Mollusk.

Baby Face

It probably comes as no surprise to you that people think I am younger than I really am.  It's been a part of my life since high school I guess.  I've had blond eyebrows, very little stubble, and a smooth, pale face.  Sometimes I've even been blessed with those cute round cheeks.  Especially after Thanksgiving!

Is this the face that folks see?  Looks like 8 candles to me.

I must've been about 15 here.  

Senior Year of high school, 17. My big sister was in College!

Preparing for a group date.  Everyone was 18, but visible disparity in features.

In college, we were all men.  But there were varying levels of maturity, poise, and stature.  In the image above, Joey D. in the blue shirt was known for his striking adult features.  Some of the guys had 5 o'clock shadows to contend with.  Not me.   I can still get away with shaving twice a week without much notice!

Last week I came across an article about how Leonardo's young face helps him be likable, and to take his characters to another level.  Turns out there really is something called the Baby Face Bias, wherein baby-faced adults are perceived as more innocent and honest, but have a hard being taken seriously in confrontation or when they are authoritative on a subject. That got me thinking about several of the times when people want to talk about how young I look.

Example 1:

Missionary Trainer, Elder Cannon, August 2000

As a missionary in England, I remember introducing myself to someone (pretty close to my first month in the country) and someone was just so taken aback at my living on my own.  I believe she may have said, "Does your mother know you are here?"   What?   Like I was a runaway or something?  Later in the conversation, I think she likened my appearance to Opie or Richie Cunningham on Happy Days.  I remember getting that alot.  Is there really a resemblance?  I think it was just that I was a clean-cut American boy, and that's what they had to compare against.

Ron Howard, aka Opie, or Richie.

Example 2:  Another memorable time was a few years later, the winter before my college graduation. A few months after we adopted Ian, I remember going into a Wendy's on a road trip and the cashier kept giving me a funny look.  After a taking my order and calling it into the mic, she paused, then seemed to get up the gumption to ask, "Is that your kid?"  I was already feeling kinda self-conscious and new at being a dad, but I understood when I said yes and she followed up with, "You look too young to even be married, much less have a kid!"

Undergraduate Graduation Day. Almost 24.

Master's Thesis Defense Day. Almost 26.

Example 3:  Wow.  So then a couple of weeks ago I was at a conference of many well-respected decision makers related to one of my projects at work.  I was feeling pretty dapper in a suit and one of my bowties.  I may have been one of the younger people in the room.  When I chatted with the session moderator, he commented, "Wow, you look like you could be 16!  Good on you for presenting today."   I wasn't embarassed or offended.  It just comes with the territory, I guess.

I don't think my baby face affects my credibility, though I can never be sure.  I understand that there are factors in judging people externally, such as their accent, culture, and so forth.  As in my confidence post, I have discovered that I have to assert my capability, and maybe that's one of the reasons I wear a bowtie at professional events... it throws people off my "young face" ice-breaker, and lets them chat about how swanky a bowtie looks.

Age 18

I think it's akin to how people paint a mental picture of what someone looks like that they've only talked to on the phone.  When they find out the truth, it's a surprise.  Lots of the people who misjudge my age follow up their comments with, "Oh, well, you'll be thankful for your young face when you are 60 and look like you're 40."  That could be true.  But in the end, I'm not convinced that I care all THAT much about what people think of my face.  Maybe I'll have a young voice like Ira Glass, radio host for This American Life.  He sounds 30, but he's like 52.  I wonder how often people comment to him about it?

Do you have Baby Face Bias?