2023/30. BIRTHDAY IN LONDON

You know those kind of days when you are exhausted from preparing to leave home for a chunk of time, worn out from a long flight and a big time difference, and your body is trying to adjust to everything so you give it a little self-love and sleep the day away?  This was not one of those days.

And frankly it should not have been because today is the day we celebrate the mortal existence of my Dave. Happy Birthday, Man o’ my Dreams!

This day brought us more than the day dreams my body may have wanted. First, it brought us a two pound box of hand picked Sees chocolates retrieved from their hiding place in the bottom of my suitcase. See’s for birthday breakfast is a family tradition.

Ann Marie made us some rib sticking oatmeal for dessert, which we ate at their table, the cool early Spring breeze moving the veil-like curtain at their window in a reverential dance, the image of the London Temple jutting toward the sky behind them.

Second, the day brought us sunshine. In Britain!

a little patch of birthday sunshine.

And a trip in a car with my sister and brother-in-law, off to London town.

This day brought us crocuses and daffodils and grape hyacinths hanging their purple bells over wet churned soil.

The day brought us a passionately compelling visit to the national war museum where we pretended to be so many individuals whose lives were dramatically changed by the first and second world wars.

It brought a yummy dinner at my sister’s favorite Italian restaurant in London.

And views of Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, the River Thames and more.

Westminster Abbey

Buckingham Palace

Big Ben pierces the clouds.

Followed by a delightful musical on the West End, 

Back to the Future

after which we drove through the misty dark back to Lingfield and a nightcap of See’s chocolates and a good accommodating bed, which is at this point calling to me.

Happy Birthday, Dave. Lets go to Cornwall tomorrow. 

2023/29. SIGNS

556. That’s the number of miles per hour we travelled today, in our chairs up above the clouds. At least that’s what the sign on our in-flight monitor said when I tapped flight tracker. We went from the mountains of northern Utah, across the horizontal landscape of the United States, then across the Atlantic Ocean and ended up in London without even having to have a bathroom stop. Every time I fly I imagine the incredulity that every one of my ancestors would have felt at the prospect of doing what we do without even a sigh of wonder.

My sister Ann Marie and her husband Michael met us at Heathrow in their car. They are here for a year serving as missionaries / temple workers in the London LDS Temple. The temple is closed for maintenance and cleaning these next two weeks, so off we go with them to explore a bit of the UK. 

View of the back of the London Temple from my sister's window.

Scrumptious Scottish salmon for dinner in their dining room.

Dave and I were afforded an hour nap, then we took a ride to try and stay awake as our bodies adjust to the time being seven hours ahead of what we are used to. Ann Marie drove. On the wrong side of the road. Unless you live in the UK, then it’s the right side of the road and all of America is wrong. First of all, the passenger seat up front is where we are used to the drivers sitting. My legs act all confused when I get in the car with no steering wheel to grab. Then there are the round abouts and turns that go in the counter-intuitive direction.

“If I were driving, I want you to know, we would all be dead by now” I commented, totally impressed with my sister’s maneuvering skills. I told her they should get a sticker for the back of their car that says AMERICAN DRIVER. Cars like to honk at her. She ignores them. We could all use a little more patience with other drivers on our roads.

Then there are the roads themselves; narrow, windey, shoulderless pathways against which the ancients planted their hedgerows. I feel like we have been sent down into the vortex of a funnel from the extra wide roads Brigham Young designed for Salt Lake City into the thin neck of the motherland, where you have to pull over, or even back up when a car from the other direction peeks around the bend. When you think about it, the amount of sheer energy we take into our hands as we hurl ourselves forward, we should all be dead!

British roads wide enough for one car.

So in my sister’s little “let’s try to keep you two awake till bedtime” ploy we drove to a little castle town called Reigate. Only the castle is no more. There is, however, a strange old sand cave or tunnel, which was closed. And part of a mote. It’s no wonder the castle is gone. It was built a thousand years ago. We Utahns think old is pioneer era, maybe 150 years ago. Here their doorknobs are older than that.

While driving, in the rain of course, because we are in the UK, I snapped a few pictures of signage that struck me as symbolic, especially for this phase of our lives. Dave does not need to check his emails daily on this trip. He won’t have to sign a single warrant. We don’t have to worry if the kids are ok with the babysitter, or if they are doing their homework while we are gone. We just don’t quite know how to handle this freedom. There is a strange feeling of liberation in structure. Change was a bit easier when we were younger. 

I especially liked this sign. So much so that we drove around the circles of this old town multiple times trying to find it so I could snap a photo. Don’t you think it’s a peculiar traffic sign?

I had to Google it to see what in the world they meant by it. Basically, what I founhd was that people should be aware that an intersection ahead will not have the expected flow, so you’d better pay attention.

Its perfect for us in our lives right now.

The big stuff that were priorities remain so. But some of the immediate requirements in our daily lives is taking a shift. We need to remind ourselves often to keep our heads up rather than plowing ahead as before.

Then there was this sign right after that one. Let the old give way to the new.

AKA YIELD

And then this. All these within a block of each other.

Careful, I tell my figurative self, not to head the wrong way on a one way street. Even if it feels counterintuitive. Keep on the designated path that people I trust have shown me. At least until I get to the wild open spaces where there is no traffic and no one to run into.

It’s not all that late here, just after 11 pm, but my eyes that woke with the sunlight in America are getting heavy this night in England.

Tomorrow is a new day. And it’s Dave’s birthday, so we are off to Londontown for museums and a West End show.

So night-night, Cherio and Tata.

2023/28. JUDGE CONNORS' REMARKS

We gathered on March 15, 2023 to honor Judge Dave Connors' fifteen years of service in the Second District of the State of Utah. These are his remarks:

Thank you all for being here. People ask me, “Are you excited to retire?” and I can’t answer that question, “Yes”. It’s an exciting day. It’s an interesting day. It’s an ending of a phase and hopefully the beginning of another phase. But I can’t be excited about it because there’s so much I will miss about what I do here. I’m grateful to the Chief Justice for coming here. I have been able to sit and watch him lead the judiciary of the state, and I can tell you we are in good hands. He is a wise, capable leader and I appreciate him. I’ve had the opportunity to sit by designation on the Supreme Court a few times. I love Chief Justice Durrant, but I actually wrote a dissenting opinion on one of his majority opinions. I say that just to note that it's one of the beauties of our process--that there are people we can disagree with on their issues and yet still wrap our arms around each other and say we love and appreciate each other. I appreciate him for all he’s done.

Judge DiReda is like a brother to me. When I applied for this judgeship he and I were two finalists. I ended up getting that judgeship and he got the next one. So, we've kind of been joined together ever since then, and it’s been a beautiful experience. I need to tell you a few stories about Judge DiReda. I apologize I’m probably going to take longer than I should.

Judges DiReda and Connors

Judge DiReda and I served together as Presiding Judge and Associate Presiding Judge as the pandemic hit. We got to do some very challenging and interesting things together. We spent a lot of time on the phone together late hours at night as we were trying to help the judiciary pivot and be able to respond to the needs of the citizens and at the same time protect our staff. It was a very difficult time. We got to do one fairly interesting thing together--I’m sure Judge DiReda will remember this. During that period of time there happened to be a tie election up in Morgan County. Judge Hyde was there with us too. I don’t know if you know this, but under the statutes of the state of Utah, when there’s a tie election the local District Court convenes and breaks the tie by whatever method of casting lots they feel is most appropriate. So Judge Hyde, Judge DiReda, and I, and I think Judge Renstrom was with us, went up to the Morgan County courthouse one day and we met with the candidates and others who were with them. We had a ceremonial bowl and put twelve copies of each candidate's name in there. Then we literally drew names out of that bowl to pick the winner of the election. It made national headlines, as these are things that don’t happen very often. Judge DiReda’s been a true brother in this process and we’ve had the opportunity to spend many, many hours together talking about issues of importance in our district. I thank him for that.

Senator Adams shared some of our stories. Our families have known each other for three or four decades. As he said,, my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law worked with his family‘s real estate company and I’ve known Stuart, his brother Dave, and their parents for 35-40 years. I appreciate him being here. He told the story about the role I was able to play helping mediate the Legacy Parkway issue between Salt Lake City Mayor Rocky Anderson and the legislature. Let me tell you why I believe I was able to do that. It primarily because I considered both of them my friends. Mayor Anderson had different ideas than I had, but we were good friends. We were mayors together and we worked together on the Wasatch Front Regional Council. I was one person that he felt he could call when he needed to talk to someone about things that were happening on the council. And so, when Stuart asked me to get involved, it was easy for me to be able to reach across the table to someone with whom I may not have shared all of his political views, but he was a friend. All I can say is that I hope that’s how we approach politics; that we can talk with those with whom we might not agree and yet do it in a way that’s not disagreeable. Thank you Senator for being here.

I don’t know what I can say about Cori. It’s unfair for me to speak after Cori because I’m just going to break down bawling. I am going to tell you one story about Cori that happened in this courtroom. I was sentencing to prison a serious offender. He’d been in custody for period of time, he’d been in jail, and now it was time for his final sentencing. There was just no doubt, given the nature of the crime, that he was going to be sentenced to prison. But he was a talkative sort of fellow, and he stood at this podium (back in the day when we used to have sentencings in the courtroom) and said to me, “Your Honor? I've spent some time in jail; I’m really trying to turn myself around and I just want to tell you I’ve been thinking about the lyrics to a song sung by one of my favorites performers, Chris Ledoux. And based on his lyrics, I’m just gonna get back on that pony and ride.” I said “Stop. Do you recognize my wife wrote that song?” As I said earlier, she’s the famous one in the family. She’s a singer songwriter. Chris LeDoux and others have performed her songs nationally and internationally. So, I had to stop and say to counsel “Do you think I need to recuse myself because he’s quoting my wife’s song lyrics to me?” Jason Nelson, who was the prosecuting attorney, stood up quickly and said “Oh, I love that song too.” Clearly he was not going to be outdone by the criminal defendant. Jason, just so you know, has been appointed to fill the judicial vacancy created by my retirement. He’s the newest judge in the District. Stand up Jason. (applause from the audience and gallery of judges) We have some funny things that happen in our courtrooms.

Judge Cristina Ortega and Dave flank
the newly sworn-in judge,
Jason Nelson.

Thank you to my family for being here. There are just no words to express what it means to have the love and support of your family and I appreciate that. I love having you all here, and our Kate who I think is watching online. 

I’d like to make a shout out to our court staff. They are the face of the judiciary. They are the people that members of the public generally interact with. By the time someone gets to being in front of me, they’re well into the process. Our staff is critical to our mission of ensuring that people feel that they have access to justice. I so much appreciate them. I have my team over here--Kalin, Cassey, and Audrey--they are my back-up team, but really they’re the front lines. They’re the ones that, when people call, are able to help them through the process. I’ve never been in the military, but over the last three or four years I went through the pandemic and I’ve seen what it takes from a group of people like our staff to come together under incredibly trying times to do the things that have to be done. You can’t even imagine what a pivot it was for us at that time to bring everyone together; we had to completely change the way we do business. And yet, within a matter of weeks, we figured out how to do it, and that was all to the credit of our staff. We judges did what they told us to do, and they found a way to be able to bring justice, to bring the courts, to the people under the most difficult of times. Frankly, even in the situation where we have wars on foreign soils we don’t have the impact on the court system that we had during the pandemic. And they did it, they did it! They came together, they showed us how to do it, and we were able to run the courts together. 

I’m going to tell you one other pandemic story because it’s important to me. At the beginning of the pandemic, as everything was shutting down--we even had an earthquake that helped shut things down--we had to quickly figure out how to deal with things. Because we were in the second wave of the pandemic and had seen what was happening back east in New York, and other places, we knew the most serious place where the pandemic disease was spreading was in the jails and prisons. We had to find some way to address that. It was not appropriate to essentially sentence someone to the Covid disease by taking them into custody. Our Chief Justice and judicial council issued an administrative order that said, essentially, “Do what you can do to try to release non-violent criminals, and get them in back into the community so our jails are not being incubators for the pandemic.” I met together with the chief prosecutor of Davis County, Troy Rawlings, with the chief public defender, Todd Utzinger. We had the blessing of the chief law enforcement officer, our Sheriff, and I had consulted with Associate Presiding Judge Mike DiReda. We jointly signed an order that allowed the jail to release those who were non-violent criminals, so we could dramatically reduce the number of inmates, and allow them to be socially distance and take care of things in the jail. For many months after that, Davis County Jail was absolutely Covid free. It was an incredible feat. 

Cori sort of mentioned this to you; I was raised in the Catholic faith. That meeting I just described took place on the morning of Good Friday in 2020, a holy day in the Catholic Church. In the days of Christ it was a Passover Festival custom that the governor release a prisoner to the people. I pointed that out to that group when we met together, here in the courtroom to sign that order, that proclamation. It’s very important to me that we were able to do this, and that we were doing it on such a symbolic day, Good Friday 2020.

Pilate offers to release Jesus.
The people choose Barabbas instead.

This is very tough for me, I apologize. I’m going ask you to do something with me. I think it was the Judge Russell who talked about the oath of office. A little more than 15 years ago when I was appointed by Governor Hunstman to be in the judiciary, I swore an oath. I’m going to repeat that to you:

I do solemnly swear that I will support obey and defend the constitution of the United States and the constitution of the state of Utah. That I will discharge the duties of my office with Fidelity.

I’ve sworn that oath around ten times in my life; as a law clerk to a federal judge, as a member of the Bar, as a city council member in Farmington, as a mayor in Farmington, as a new judge, and each time I was retained as a judge I have had the privilege of swearing that oath. Our law enforcement officers and our veterans swear a similar oath. Our legislators swear that oath.

Some high school theater students
preparing to put on the play
"Twelve Angry Men"
are welcomed into Dave's chambers.

I was speaking to a group of high school students in the courtroom next door earlier this week. We talked about that oath. I had bailiffs in the room with me, as we have bailiffs here now. I said, to those students: “There’s not a bailiff in this room that wouldn’t take a bullet for me. I know that; it's because they swore an oath to defend the constitution. They wouldn’t do it for me personally, but they do it because of the position I hold.” I know that they would do that. I have every confidence in them. 

Dave's assistant and bailiff.
His bailiff pulled me aside and said,
Judge Connors is wrong. I would take 
a bullet for him personally,
not just because he is a judge.

You’ve all sworn an oath. And I’m going to ask you to do something, if you don’t mind. You’ve been sitting here a long time. I want you all to stand up. We have a flag here in the courtroom and I’d like you to join me in the Pledge of Allegiance. [The entire audience stood and recited together the Pledge of Allegiance.]

We used to say that in grade school at the beginning of the day. We used to say it at the beginning of every city council meeting. It means something--"one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." I’d like to talk for a few moments about what that means. What does "liberty and justice for all" really mean? 

In the Declaration of Independence our founding fathers declared “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator, with certain unalienable Rights, that among are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” One of my favorite songs, one that you’re all familiar with, is America the Beautiful. My favorite verse in that song is the second verse, lyrics by Katharine Lee Bates:

America! America! God mend thine every flaw, 

Confirm thy soul in self-control, 

Thy liberty in law!

What is liberty? I’m going to quote one of my favorite poets/playwrights, Henrik Ibsen. Henrik Ibsen, by the way, was a Norwegian playwright, a very famous one, the world’s most frequently performed dramatist after William Shakespeare and the founder of modern theater. He was a bit of a rebel. He wrote in the late 19 century. He was an ardent supporter of women’s rights. Most of the protagonists in his plays are strong women dealing with the suppression and oppression of Victorian era mores, who then deal with overcoming those obstacles. When I was an undergraduate, even though my major was political science, I took as many English classes as political science classes. I got to study Ibsen in some depth and he is one of my favorite writers. Tucked in one of his letters to a friend of his is this definition of liberty, which I have always taken to heart in my life. I’m quoting now:

“He who possesses liberty as something already achieved possess is it dead and soulless.For the essence of the idea of liberty is that it continue to develop steadily as men pursue it and make it part of their being. Anyone who stops in the middle of the struggle and says ‘Now I have it’ shows that he has lost it.”

When I was young, my mother would often quote for me the lyrics to what was a popular song when I was growing up (which was the long time ago, in the late 60's and early 70's). There was a Broadway musical known as Man of LaMancha, followed then by a film by the same name. A wonderful lead song in that production was called The Impossible Dream. My mother would often remind me of the lyrics. She’d send me notes that said “Follow your star. Dream your dream.” I keep this copy of Don Quixote, which is the work on which Man of LaMancha is based, on my desk, and have for many years. It's a bit of an homage to my mother. But when I read the definition of liberty as laid out by Henrik Ibsen, and the notion that we have to keep struggling for that always, I think of the lyrics of that song--to dream the impossible dream. I think of my mother’s admonition to continue to chase those dreams, to follow that star. As the song says: "This is my quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far. To fight for the right without question or pause. To be willing to march, march into Hell for that Heavenly cause. And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest, that my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest."

I’m grateful to all of you for joining in this quest, for recognizing the need that we have to be continually looking for better ways. We’re not perfect. We never will be perfect. Our system is not perfect. But we’re trying so very hard to make it the best we can. When we are dealing, as Henrik Ibsen did, with those who are being oppressed, we need to understand and to reach out, to lift those around us. We need to use whatever influence we have to recognize that there are those among us who need help. We need to help. 

I’ve been blessed for so many years to be in this position. As Judge DiReda said, every day we see people on the worst days of their lives. They are criminal defendants or they are divorce litigants, and frankly that’s about 75 or 80% of what we do. They’ve got to get through this process in order to be able to move on with their lives. Every day I get to help them move from point A to point B, and then they can make that decision to make something better with their lives. What better service could we offer to our fellow men and women than that? We get to help people through this process. We offer them a process that they can get through in order to reach a goal, that they can strive for their impossible dream, just as we strive for ours. 

Thank you. I appreciate you all being here. I appreciate the opportunity I’ve had. 

Thank you.

2023/27. MUSIC THERAPY (A HOLY TRIANGLE)

My Annie

My girl is overtaxed. Too much going out, not enough coming in. A light-hearted soul with a big ole wad of heavy. In one of my parental post-prayer pondering moments it hit me: Give her Kelly DeHaan.

Kelly has the most massive heart for music, and Annie loves music. One might think that so much musical dedication would use up someone’s heart space, but for Kelly the love of music is overpowered by the love of people. Serious people-love. I have no idea where he gets the drive or energy to fit all that in there.

I’ve worked and played with Kelly enough to know how therapeutic time with him can be. The angels assigned to Annie whispered, again… “Give her Kelly.”

So I did.

Kelly DeHaan.

I signed us up to sing with Utah Voices, the adult choir Kelly directs.(He also directs Mountain Ridge High School choirs, and Hale Center Theater musicals). I’ve served on the Advisory Board of Utah Voices since its inception, under the artistic direction of our friend Dr. Michael Huff. I've performed with them as their guest artist a few times, with the choir singing majestic harmonies to my simple folk tunes. I believe in this choir. The voices that unite in song are joyful and dedicated and talented. 

Kelly took over Michael’s baton when Mike took the position of choral music director at Snow College. Lucky for us, they meet Wednesday nights just a few miles away in Bountiful Utah for rehearsals. I cleared all my Wednesday evenings and blocked out my Annie-time. Making one’s body create music is therapeutic in itself. Making music with Kelly is first-rate therapy. Add to that the added bonus that we get to hear the magnificent piano work of Kelly’s grown son Tanner, and the lovely alto voice of his wife Shelly, and the capable and kind assistant directorship of Eric Noyes… these all add sparkle to my Annie-time. They are a thick, delicious, sweet and buttery layer of frosting on my Annie cake. 

Tonight, Annie and I sat beside each other in our long black dresses with strings of pearls on our necks and sang out hearts out for the Broadway Bingo concert. I could not help repeatedly cranking my neck opposite Kelly so I could see the face of my girl, watch her radiate as she sang. She has an angel voice, much better than mine, especially for a choir. My voice was made for folk music. I sing in storytelling snippets. I have terrible air control, my vibrato on sustained notes gets all wide and wobbly. And I don’t read music well. Pretty much everyone around me sings choir music better than I do. But the great thing about singing in a choir is that it’s ok, we kinda cover for each other, and if you need to catch a breath here and there, no one would know. Choir singing is pretty divine. The total, in a well-directed choir, is greater than the sum of the parts.

The view from where we sat tonight.

My youngest child, my Annie, melts my heart with her songs. All my girls do, as well as my boy. I remember when I was pregnant with Annie praying that she would be able to sing, because it would be hard to live in a singing family and not be able to join in the heavenly throng, so to speak. While I understand that God, in his wisdom, does not give us everything we think we want, he did give me that one. 

There’s one song on my album One Small Boy where my three daughters sing harmony against my voice. I can, if I am still and listening well, pick out each individual voice in the harmonies of “Noel”. I can see the faces of my beloved daughters, hear the personalities in their voices. But if I am not searching for each individual voice, what I hear is divine familial harmony that defies definition.

Sarah and Kate and I in the studio
laying down vocal tracks for the song Noel.
Annie tracked her high soprano part later.

For being a musical family we don’t often get to sing together. I cherish that day in the studio with my three girls around the microphone, as much as I cherish the multiple times I have shared the stage and added harmonies to the masterful songs written and sung by with my son. And, of course, year after year, I have sung the parts of Joseph and Mary with the man of my dreams who shares in the parenting of these children. I rejoice in the songs that have bound our family through the years of our sojourn on earth. 

My three girls, Annie, Sarah and Kate.

Kate adds sweet harmonies in my Christmas concert.
Nicole Pinnel on cello behind her.

Joseph and Mary.

Our poet son, John.

Tonight, standing next to my Annie, with my dear friend Kelly directing us, I felt part of a holy triangle. There may have been hundreds of people in that hall, but to me, for a few sweet hours of song, there were only the three of us: Kelly, my Annie, and me.

I love hearing her beautiful voice in my ear.

Come sing with Utah Voices: CLICK HERE

Music for Broadway Bingo tonight

He can sing, he can play, he makes us laugh.
The perfect recipe for a choir director.

2023/26 I AM GRAMMA CONNORS

Gramma Connors salad has a page in my recipe book with all sorts of stains on it. Those stains would have to be for another recipe beside it because no one has needed a recipe card for this one for at least a few decades. A simple pasta salad with five ingredients: ditalini pasta, green olives, sweet gherkin pickles, tuna or canned chicken and mayonnaise, it mixes up easily and lasts in the fridge. In fact, this salad has never, that I am aware of, had to be tossed from the fridge because people got tired of it before the leftovers were gone. It’s an unexpected blend of sweet and salty. You’ll either really love it or not care for it at all.

I make it almost weekly now, because it’s the go-to food of our missionary, Elder Timo Petersen, who is living with us right now. He can eat three bowls without a pause.

Tonight, after his temple shift. 
He ate two bowls, then just grabbed 
the container and finished it all off.

Today, as I was stirring Gramma Connors salad at the kitchen island, Dave commented that our grandkids consider Gramma Connors Salad “my” salad, whereas their parents know it’s Dave’s mother’s concoction. It struck me:

I have become Gramma Connors. 

I hadn’t realized that because the grands call me Gummy. But my name is Connors, and I am their Grandma so I guess I get to own that name now. We have Helen’s only great-grandchildren. My kids’ only Connors cousin, Ned, is not yet married and his last name is Cooper. So, until John’s wife Ashley gets to take on that name, I am the sole proprietor of that blessed title. 

I am not all that much like the Helen Connors I knew, but then, I did not get to know her as deeply as I would have liked before she slipped heavenward. When I get to thinking that she might be a little sad that her beloved David ended up with the slumpy, messy, disorganized gal that is me, I try to remind myself that Dave likes me. His mom always had confidence in his ability to make good choices. I pray that she would not be ashamed of me, because Dave deserves so much more that is graceful and refined.

What I know of Helen Connors is that she was loving and intelligent and gracious. She was also a person with a strong social conscience. She championed equal rights and opposed the Vietnam war. She sent a telegram to the president of the United States once with one clear sentence: STOP THIS DAMNED WAR. She wore pants when women who wore them were looked at sideways. She defended the underserved and taught her kids to do the same.

The most loving and devoted man I know has loved a Mrs. Connors from the day he was born. How lucky am I that I get to be one of them.

I hope, in some small measure, I can bring honor to the name. But if nothing else, I will have left the world with her yummy pasta salad recipe.

2023/25 ROBES

I just looked through the 5,323, 657 photos I have stored on my computer, searching for a particular moment I was sure I had captured in a snapshot. Alas, that moment was one year before I got my first iPhone. Though I suspect we have a hard copy of it somewhere in this house, finding it now is not prudent. I am therefore stuck with only words to tell you about the day I placed Dave's black judicial robes over his shoulders. It was the day he was sworn in as a judge back in 2008. Before family, friends, and a distinctive panel of judges and political leaders, I recall the swish of crepe as the black robe fell over his shoulders. The moment is one of those slow motion kind of memories I hold in my head.

Today, while driving to Salt Lake City together, (in the middle of the day no less!) I commented how only four of our eleven grandkids were even alive that day, and they were all too small to remember. To us it feels like day-before-yesterday. To them it was a lifetime ago.

I was really honored to be invited to place those robes on Dave. It was sort of like the raising of the right hand we do in church when someone is given a new position. Besides showing a vote of confidence in them, we commit to support them in their stewardship. Placing those black robes on Dave was a raising of my right hand, a token that I committed to support Dave in this heavy responsibility.

This portrait of Dave in his robes was taken
when he was first appointed.
It hangs in the hallway of the 2nd District Courthouse.

I've thought, these past fifteen years, that Dave looks particularly regal in his judicial robes. They flow nicely over his able shoulders. His hair, fifteen years ago, had a lot less white in it. I've thought his silvering coif has created a very nice contrast in the last few years.

15 years on the bench will turn your hair gray!
This iPhone photo can't match the quality of a Busath studio portrait.
Sorry, Dave.

During the pandemic, when we were holding court virtually from our home, we moved the vintage American flag that stands in our family room into Dave's study. We removed Dave's Law School Diploma from the study wall and placed a wire hanger over the small picture hook. That's where Dave's robes hung during the heat of the pandemic, when the whole world seemed to stop turning but the wheels of justice didn't. Dave was Presiding Judge at the time. He and Judge DiReda, Associate PJ, spent hours on hours on the phone, into the dark nights of the crisis, figuring out how to continue to hold court before the world learned how to function virtually. It was a massive undertaking for which I venture to guess there will have been just a handful of people in the world's history who were part of figuring this out for our judicial system. They were living history. And that black robe was part of the history. In the mornings I would tip-toe around the corner to the glass-paned study doors to peek in and see if His Honor was wearing his robes. I knew if he was, then court was in session, and I'd better hold off making my morning protein smoothie in our loud blender. I hold a tender and respectful place in my heart for the image of his beautiful robes hanging in our home. It was a powerful moment in our worldwide history where we learned that we revere people and processes more than places.

His robes hanging on the wall of our home study.
That's his checkered face mask also on the hanger.

Last week, for the last time, Dave removed his black crepe robes. I have nailed a permanent hook in his home study where they can hang as a reminder.

When the retirement speeches were over last week,  and the courtroom was nearly empty except for a few of our kids and grandkids, I placed a new robe over Dave's shoulders. A yummy, soft, warm and cozy Minky Couture house robe. It's time for a little snuggle-pause, to relax for a moment. 

That hanger with his name on it is what we
eventually hung his robes on in the study.
I ordered it for his birthday that year.
It looked more official than the wire Red Hanger one.

Nearly every night, for the last 15 years, he has spent his sitting down moments preparing for the next day's court docket. It was stunning to me how much homework Dave did. My image of him, late at night when I was in my soft recliner, was him on the couch with a hefty stack of papers in his lap, reviewing cases for the following day while the 10 o'clock news played in the background.

We have now had one full week of no late night legal work. Instead, he's at the computer researching his family's genealogy in preparation for a trip to Ireland we'll be taking next week. But tonight, after our nightly scripture reading with Timo, Dave decided to watch an episode of NCIS. There he sat, in his usual place on the couch...  in his Minky robe... folding laundry.

I could get used to this.

Before...

... After.

Can we just pause, for a moment, and show a little respect for the iPhone?
For all the frustration smart phones have brought on us,
I appreciate the fact that so many priceless moments in my life are
captured and stored on the little handheld computer I carry around in my pocket.
 It's worth every penny of cloud storage I pay each month to
preserve them in a place that is easily accessed and readily shared.