Sunday, September 30, 2018


Dear God, Holy Father oh hear us now pray
And let us remember this day
That we may e'er serve thee with strength and our might
And do all that's good and right

We'll cry for thy mercy, we'll pray for thy love, 
That pours from the heavens above
We'll praise thee by day and we'll thank thee by night
For all that is good and right.

Jehovah dear savior we'll lengthen our stride
Come walk with us, dwell by our side

Our souls doth now hunger for grace and thy truth
Revealed to us oft in our youth
From kneeling in prayer let us rise and take flight
To find all that's good and right.

Now open to us and please share from thy Word
So that our spirits are stirred
Within us our hearts will burn warm with delight
It's when we do good and right.

Jehovah dear savior we'll lengthen our stride
Come walk with us, dwell by our side

Our voices as one we will fill up the air
With sweetest fair music we'll share
For songs of the heart are just prayers in thy sight
We'll sing all that's good and right.

And all the day long we will try to dispel
All foes of Israel.
Embracing the gospel that gives us our might
We'll love all that's good and right.

Jehovah dear savior we'll lengthen our stride
Come walk with us, dwell by our side

Luke 24:32; Enos 1:4

And they said one to another, Did not our heart burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the scriptures?


And my soul hungered; and I kneeled down before my Maker, and I cried unto him in mighty prayer and supplication for mine own soul; and all the day long did I cry unto him; yea, and when the night came I did still raise my voice high that it reached the heavens

Ever since I learned my Church was open to receiving entries for new hymns, I have been wanting write one. I was asked to perform a duet (might be a trio) for Sacrament meeting, and decided to write my own song. Tom Christensen is sing with me. I asked him what his favorite scripture was. He gave me the two above. I used those as the inspiration for the poem/hymn.

Friday, September 14, 2018


Take two to three large yuca roots
From Winco near the veggies and fruits
Then take them home and wash them good
Peel off the skins 'cause they're tough as wood
Now with a knife cut off their tips
Then use that knife to make cubes or strips

Once into cubes toss them to boil
In one large pot while you prep some oil.
You'll need at least four cups or so
Of oil for fryin' in a pan on low.
There'll be a lot of pops when fried
So just make sure the pan's deep and wide.

Cook down the cubes of yuca, please
Until they're soft but still firm to squeeze
A colander will help them drain
So leave them there while they cool and strain.
Once cool just shred each yuca fine.
Remove from each that thin woody spine.

Now drain again the moisture loose
By squeezing out all the extra juice
Pat dry the pulp with cloth that's clean
Or press it firm through a metal screen
Whatever gets the job done well
Then set aside in the fridge to dwell.

Go gather up your spices now
To give this treat the right kick and pow.
Here's what I like but you can choose--
"Siga tu lengua" follow its cues.
Some garlic salt and onion flakes
Paprika sweet and thyme---a few shakes.

Now grab an egg, beat, set aside.
Cornmeal and flour for that crunch when fried.
This powdered mix will serve for us
A nice and crispy savory crust.
Now add some spice so it's not dull
Mix the flour-meal in a separate bowl.

Now from the fridge take out the paste,
Then add some spices and salt to taste.
Next roll some balls and dust them in
The powdered mix with a coat that's thin.
Then plop them in the beat up yolk
Next in hot grease but don't let them smoke.

The trick to this is keep the oil
The perfect temp so it will not spoil.
Three hundred sixty (F "eff") degrees;
A thermometer make this a breeze.
Each ball let cook upon each side
Removing them when they're crisp and fried.

A napkin is a clever spot
To let them cool 'cause they're piping hot
Let drain the oil from off their shell
Of crispy crust and take in their smell.
These golden treats of yuca flesh
Just eat them Quick! 'cause they're best when fresh.

2 yuca roots
1 Tbsp of onion flakes
1 Tbsp of garlic salt
1 Tbsp of paprika
2 tsp of ground thyme
4-6 cups of oil
1-2 eggs, beat
2/3 cup of flour
1/3 cup of cornmeal

1 tsp of salt (optional)

Tuesday, September 4, 2018


With ball in hand my time to shine 
I drove it down the court
A spin, a twirl, that move of mine 
Just thrilled to play the sport.
I dribbled past their shooting guard
And moved into the key
The way in front was now unbarred,
T'was just the hoop and me.

I laid up for the perfect shot
To move our team ahead
But suddenly there formed a knot
Of building fear and dread
And crept into my heart this doubt
My skills to score were doomed
That's when my mind heard loud this shout
"No way José!" It boomed.

For one brief flash I looked up in
The bleachers way up top
To find my fan, was sure t'was him
The one I still called Pop.
And sure enough I saw him there
Cheering me to shoot!
I filled with hope; gone was despair
My focus now acute.

I turned back to the hoop to find
Their team was rushing in
I drove in hard with shot in mind,
Adding a final spin.
I jumped with all my strength and worth
With ball raised up, aroar.
Then...SMACK!...a hand. Back to the Earth
I fell confused and sore.

The buzzer buzzed...we lost the game!
My insides began to twist
A panic set that I'm to blame
For the shot I missed.
When I thought all hope was gone
Just like the game we faced
A mighty hand I felt upon
My drooping shoulder placed

I turned my watered eyes to see
The loving arm of Dad
I stumbled out the word,--- "Sorry"
Just thinking he was mad.
He lowered from his giant height
And knelt to wipe my tear.
Embraced me with his humble might,
And whispered in my ear.

"The game is never over, Sport.
You've simply lost this win
For ever are you on the Court
Of this life you're in.
Keep shooting for that hoop you yearn.
I promise you this claim:
You'll win the prize that you earn
By staying in the game."

Today we buried my uncle Jerry Conley. As a kid, we would travel every summer to visit our family in Utah. I remember traveling out to Roosevelt to visit the Conley's one winter and sledding down a big steep hill. I am pretty sure I was not gutsy enough to go down it. I knew that I would surely die! But that didn't stop the Conley's! They were way too cool to be afraid of a few broken bones and a mouthful of busted teeth and snow. I always thought the Conley's were cool for three things:
One, they owned a fully metal transformable Optimus Prime
Two, they were always great at sports, and
Three, their dad was Jerry, a funny guy with witty humor, and one of my mom's heroes.

This poem is to remember Jerry. His love of sports and seeing their deeper meaning. His love of family, and never missing their games. His love of his Savior and the lessons he learned from the gospel and the doctrines of enduring to the end. Thank you, Jerry for being a part of my life!

And for the Conley's, whom I love, when life smacks you down with doubts and grief or sorrows you think are impassable hear the words, "No way José...just stay in the game". I know the emptiness never leaves you, but it does become more bearable. That emptiness helps us to remember and never forget. Keep playing your beautiful game!

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