Okay, I did it. I actually got on TEDx. The audio mix wasn't perfect, but I salute the technical staff at Canyons School District for getting a decent rendition of Bunkered! Thanks for this great opportunity! This is a revisited lesson I taught in my classroom 35 years ago. If you do not see the link below, try going to http://youtu.be/ZlVmJ3CqU2Q
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
Whatcha' Doin' Joe?
Just in case you need a Halloween story. This one's dedicated to my old friend, Allen Henrie, in Panguitch, Utah, who first played this one on me.
Wha' cha' Doin' Joe?
Now I'm tellin' ya, I don't scare easy. I mean, my big brother is always jumpin' out at me when I least expect it, but he's done it so much, it ain't no big deal. And my bedroom window doesn't close real tight, so some nights the wind kinda moans and groans and whistles while I'm tryin' to go to sleep. Aw, so what? It's just the wind. I sometimes even watch the tree shadows shakin' on the wall as the light from the construction company across the way filters through. They're actually kinda' entertaining. I even have a big black cat with yellowish eyes that seem to glow in the dark. But he's practically my best friend. So ya see, I ain't no scaredy pants little kid. I know my way around.
Oh I was kinda curious when Josh Turner started to tell everybody at school that there was a ghost in the Hooper cemetery.
“Oh sure,” I said.
“No really,”Josh said, “haven't ya ever heard about the ghost in the Hooper graveyard?”
“R-i-i-g-h-h-t,” I said, “like there's really such things as ghosts anyway.”
“You don't believe in ghosts?” he asked.
“'Course not,” I said. “Nobody's ever come up with any good evidence for ghosts that I know about. That's all just movie stuff. Kinda like the Banshee in Darby O' Gill and the Little People. Somebody just did some trick photography and made a spooky story outa nothin. Ain't no such thing, really.”
Now Josh got this quizzical look in his eye. Now mind ya, I don't have no reason to believe Josh on a good day, let alone on today, Friday the 13th. Don't worry, I ain't superstitious either. Ya see, Josh didn't have many friends, anyway, and he was known to make up things just to get attention. He was kind of a fat kid, and he had lots of freckles and mussed up red hair. He just was different somehow, and most everybody kind of left him alone, unless they knew he was up to somethin'. Then kids showed up just to see the fireworks. Some of the kids in my class saw me talkin' with him on the playground. They could see Josh begin to get animated and some of 'em was just curious enough to come over to see what in the world he was cookin' up this time.
“Have you ever been to the Hooper cemetery?” he asked.
“Yah. We go there every year to put flowers on my grandfather's grave on Memorial Day. It's about the most un-spooky cemetery I've ever seen."
“Have you been there at night?”
“No”
“Well it's a whole different place at night. The wind always blows out there at night and rattles the leaves on those big trees all around it. Then there's that big ditch just north of the graveyard, where there's all kinds of frogs and muskrats and critters always dashin' in and out of the shadows. That cannon on the hill with those big house shaped headstones glistens in the moonlight. I hear tell there's even a crazy man who sometimes runs around out there.”
“Oh ya, a crazy man,” I said.
“No, I'm serious. I even heard that three little kids wandered in there late one night and just disappeared. Nobody ever found 'em.”
“Sure,” I said. And who were these little kids? What were their names?”
“I dunno. It happened a long time ago. But the people who live out by it say that sometimes they hear that ol' crazy man just a howlin' out there some nights. I'm tellin' ya, it's a scary place.” Josh stared directly into my eyes.
“Have you been out there at night?” I asked.
“You betcha. Lots of times. And I'm tellin' ya I know the creepiest place in that whole cemetery.”
“Great Josh. So tell me, what's the creepiest place in the Hooper cemetery?”
“It's old Joe Johnson's grave. Way back there by the cannon. It ain't much of a headstone. It's just a little one. Nobody cuts the grass around it or anything. Old Joe didn't have any friends. Some people think that's why his ghost comes back, to try and make some friends.”
“His ghost?”
Josh's eyes got bigger. He lowered his tone a little. There were now half a dozen kids who had wandered over and were listening in. “Yeah, Old Joe was a cranky old buzzard when he was alive. Folks out there say he lived by himself, and never really went anywhere. He just stayed in his old house all the time. Didn't even have a dog or cat or anything. Just stayed there by himself. Kept the windows covered. People couldn't tell what he did. Seemed like he just didn't do nothin'."
“Have you been to this house?”
“Naw, old Joe died 50 years ago. The old house he was livin' in has long since been torn down.”
“So how do you know all this stuff about him?”
“I'm tellin' ya, all the old folks in town know. All ya gotta do is ask 'em.”
“And they've seen Old Joe's Ghost?”
“Only on rare occasions.”
“Yeah, really rare, like never.”
Josh raised his voice a little. “But there's a lot that's heard him.”
“Heard him?” I said.
Josh continued, “ I guess the old guy died cause he was just flat out bored. As I said, nobody ever saw him do much of anything. Fact is, the old guy just flat out did nothin, and just wasted away.”
“Wasted away?”
“Yup, nobody even knew how he died. A salesman walked up to the door one day, and said he smelt somethin' awful weird and nasty. So he called the cops to come and investigate and the cops came and broke in and found Old Joe, at least what was left of him, just sittin in his old chair in his front room, dead as a doornail.”
“So what's this about hearing him?”
“Well Joe didn't talk much, just said what was absolutely necessary. He'd answer a question if he was asked, but only in the fewest words possible. Ya see, Joe just kind of grew where he was planted. He didn't get out much. He just spent most of the time in that old house. If ya wanted somethin' from Joe you had to go see him, and again, he'd just give you the raw information with no extra words anywhere. If you asked him about somethin' he didn't know about, or even about something he didn't wanna talk about, like sayin' to him, “Joe, whaddya know about dogs?”, he'd look at ya with a blind stare and say “Nothing, nothing at all.""
“Okay, so that was when he was alive. You said a lot of people around here have heard him.”
“That's right.”
“So who's heard him?”
“Lots of folks. Ya see the story goes like this. They figure Old Joe musta died of boredom. He didn't know nothin' and didn't wanna know nuthin. He didn't say nuthin' less he had to. Nobody knew of any family he grew up with or nuthin'. Ya had to ask him ten times to get an answer from him. If ya tried to ask him what he wanted, he'd just say “Nuthin', nuthin at all.” When he died they just flat put him in a pine box and planted him in the graveyard. I guess it's lucky he has a spot there at all. The headstone just says Joe Johnson. That's it."
“Are you gonna tell me who's heard him?”
“Talk to the old folks in town. They know. What they'll tell ya, is that you can talk to Joe yerself”
“Oh sure. I can talk to him myself.”
“Yeah, here's how ya do it. 'Member I told ya that ya had to ask Old Joe ten times to get an answer out of him? Well here's what ya do. Go out to the Hooper Graveyard at midnight when there's a full moon so that you can see real good, so you can see the headstones real clear. That way you'll be sure you find Joe's grave."
“What about takin' a flash light?”
“Naw, Joe don't like real bright lights. Now once you find his grave walk around it 10 times. That'll get his attention.”
“Then what?”
“Then stop, face that headstone directly and call out real loud and clear – WHATCHA DOIN' JOE?”
“And then?”
“Then you be just a quiet as a snowflake and wait and listen real good. You'll hear the same thing lots of other folks have heard. You'll hear Old Joe say – NOTHING. NOTHING AT ALL.” Josh gazed steely-eyed at me. He actually believed what he was tellin' me.
I looked back at him and said, “So has this happened to you?”
“Yup,” he said.
“And what'd you hear?”
“Just like I told you. Old Joe said NOTHING, NOTHING AT ALL!” His voice was filled with drama, and just a hint of terror. “So, you wanna try it?” Now he was daring me.
“Ok, yer on. I'm gonna show you just how stupid you are, Josh Turner. Just so happens there's a full moon tonight. I'll meet ya down there right at midnight, and we'll just see how spooky old Joe Johnson is.”
“Okeedokee. Sure you're not afraid?”
“I told ya, there ain't no such thing as ghosts”
“Well, come tonight, and you'll know for sure.”
“You got it.”
'Course then, that night the wind started to blow and there was patchy clouds and even some lightning every once in a while. I pushed up my bedroom window and snuck out about 11:45. It'd take me about 10 minutes to walk to the graveyard. I had on my dark poncho and when I lifted my arms out, I kinda looked like and enormous bat. I fairly flew till I got to the ditch by the graveyard. There was all kinds of croakin' goin' on by them there frogs. Then I heard somethin' scurry through the tall grass behind me. I turned real quick and saw somethin' about the size of a basketball go splash into the ditch water. Leaves were blowin' all over the place. The moon was playin' tag with the clouds, and would peek, through, then hide, then peek through again. The cemetery was closed, of course, but there was no fence or anything to keep me out. The moonlight fairly danced eerily on the headstones as I walked up from the parking lot to the grass. The place was definitely deserted. I couldn't even see Josh anywhere. There was a small stone bathroom building near the front of the graveyard just 10 yards from where I stood. A shadowy figure leaned against the building. It was Josh.
“Well,” he said, “you ready?
Josh wasn't cheerful. He was lookin' real serious. I was cool. Nuthin' had bothered me much to this point, but I don't remember seein' Josh lookin' quite so serious as he did now. “You sure you wanna go through with this,” he said.
“Yeah, I can do this,” I said semi-confidently. Then I mustered, “Bring on that ghosty”
“All right,” Josh said, “You asked for it. Just remember that I gave you a chance to back out.”
“Yeah.............right,” I said.
“We gotta walk out into the middle a ways first. Right up there next to the cannon on the rise”
“L-l-ets go,” I said. I didn't mean to stutter, but Josh didn't seem to notice. I really wasn't scared, my throat was just dry so it was a little hard to pronounce my words.”
“Right this way,” he said and began to walk briskly among the stones. My poncho was still blowin' in the wind. We had to walk past some bushes and they almost seemed to reach out and grasp at it. They scratched against the fabric. Josh kept movin'. “Come on, can't keep that ghost a waitin'!” he called.
“Okay, Okay.” He obviously was more familiar with this place than I was. Even though the moon was peekin' through the clouds, it was still pretty dark. I tripped a couple of times on headstones I didn't see.
“Don't kick the headstones,” Josh turned and looked at me. “Ya wanna wake up some more ghosts besides Old Joe?”
I tried to keep up better. My hands were a bit shaky, but I kept them out away from my body to keep my balance. “Come on,” he said. We finally reached the cannon.
“Okay,” Josh said, it's right over there. You'll see it right under the branch of that big tree there.” He stretched out his arm and pointed firmly. I looked to see where he was pointing.
“And let me get this straight. I'm supposed to walk around that headstone 10 times, then say 'whatcha doin' Joe?”
“That's it. Then listen real close.”
“And I'm gonna hear Old Joe's voice”
“You'll hear” (dramatically) “Nooothiinnnggg, nooothinnnnggg at aalllll!”
“Right.” I took a couple of steps toward the headstone, then glanced back at Josh.
“Go on,” he urged. I took a couple of more steps then looked down to see the headstone. Grass had grown over the edges and there was some light sand scattered about on it. I bent over and brushed it off. In simple letters it just said “Joe Johnson.” I looked over again at Josh. He put his index finger in the air and rotated it in a circular motion. I took a deep breath and started around the headstone. It was close enough to the tree that I had to walk around it too, making about a 10 foot in diameter circle to complete 1 trip. I heard a cat screech somewhere on my second time around. I looked down at the headstone, then at Josh. He stared straight at me. I completed the 3rd and 4th trip, then on trip #5 I was slightly startled by a dog howling and barking like crazy. Must have been after that cat. The wind picked up and whistled through the trees on trip 6. I paused briefly, checked the stone, then Josh, then continued. Trip 7. The clouds suddenly closed off any light from the moon. I heard a huge thunderclap on trip 8. It was suddenly cold, and my skin was prickly with goosebumps. A light rain started to fall. Gotta finish this. I quickened my pace....9...then 10. I looked up as Josh. He gestured at me to say the words. I looked down at the stone, fixed on Joe Johnson's name and then boldly stated “Whacha doin, Joe?”
It was just as I thought. There was no ghost voice. I looked up triumphantly at Josh. Now I would prove to him how foolish he was for believing in ghosts. As I looked at him, I could see that he was laughing hysterically. “There,” I said, “I proved it. What're you laughin' at?”
“Ha, Ha, Ha. What'd you hear?”
“Nuthin'”
“Right! Nuthin'! (dramatically) “Nuthin' at all!! See, the old folks was right! There is a crazy man in the cemetery!!"
Wha' cha' Doin' Joe?
Now I'm tellin' ya, I don't scare easy. I mean, my big brother is always jumpin' out at me when I least expect it, but he's done it so much, it ain't no big deal. And my bedroom window doesn't close real tight, so some nights the wind kinda moans and groans and whistles while I'm tryin' to go to sleep. Aw, so what? It's just the wind. I sometimes even watch the tree shadows shakin' on the wall as the light from the construction company across the way filters through. They're actually kinda' entertaining. I even have a big black cat with yellowish eyes that seem to glow in the dark. But he's practically my best friend. So ya see, I ain't no scaredy pants little kid. I know my way around.
Oh I was kinda curious when Josh Turner started to tell everybody at school that there was a ghost in the Hooper cemetery.
“Oh sure,” I said.
“No really,”Josh said, “haven't ya ever heard about the ghost in the Hooper graveyard?”
“R-i-i-g-h-h-t,” I said, “like there's really such things as ghosts anyway.”
“You don't believe in ghosts?” he asked.
“'Course not,” I said. “Nobody's ever come up with any good evidence for ghosts that I know about. That's all just movie stuff. Kinda like the Banshee in Darby O' Gill and the Little People. Somebody just did some trick photography and made a spooky story outa nothin. Ain't no such thing, really.”
Now Josh got this quizzical look in his eye. Now mind ya, I don't have no reason to believe Josh on a good day, let alone on today, Friday the 13th. Don't worry, I ain't superstitious either. Ya see, Josh didn't have many friends, anyway, and he was known to make up things just to get attention. He was kind of a fat kid, and he had lots of freckles and mussed up red hair. He just was different somehow, and most everybody kind of left him alone, unless they knew he was up to somethin'. Then kids showed up just to see the fireworks. Some of the kids in my class saw me talkin' with him on the playground. They could see Josh begin to get animated and some of 'em was just curious enough to come over to see what in the world he was cookin' up this time.
“Have you ever been to the Hooper cemetery?” he asked.
“Yah. We go there every year to put flowers on my grandfather's grave on Memorial Day. It's about the most un-spooky cemetery I've ever seen."
“Have you been there at night?”
“No”
“Well it's a whole different place at night. The wind always blows out there at night and rattles the leaves on those big trees all around it. Then there's that big ditch just north of the graveyard, where there's all kinds of frogs and muskrats and critters always dashin' in and out of the shadows. That cannon on the hill with those big house shaped headstones glistens in the moonlight. I hear tell there's even a crazy man who sometimes runs around out there.”
“Oh ya, a crazy man,” I said.
“No, I'm serious. I even heard that three little kids wandered in there late one night and just disappeared. Nobody ever found 'em.”
“Sure,” I said. And who were these little kids? What were their names?”
“I dunno. It happened a long time ago. But the people who live out by it say that sometimes they hear that ol' crazy man just a howlin' out there some nights. I'm tellin' ya, it's a scary place.” Josh stared directly into my eyes.
“Have you been out there at night?” I asked.
“You betcha. Lots of times. And I'm tellin' ya I know the creepiest place in that whole cemetery.”
“Great Josh. So tell me, what's the creepiest place in the Hooper cemetery?”
“It's old Joe Johnson's grave. Way back there by the cannon. It ain't much of a headstone. It's just a little one. Nobody cuts the grass around it or anything. Old Joe didn't have any friends. Some people think that's why his ghost comes back, to try and make some friends.”
“His ghost?”
Josh's eyes got bigger. He lowered his tone a little. There were now half a dozen kids who had wandered over and were listening in. “Yeah, Old Joe was a cranky old buzzard when he was alive. Folks out there say he lived by himself, and never really went anywhere. He just stayed in his old house all the time. Didn't even have a dog or cat or anything. Just stayed there by himself. Kept the windows covered. People couldn't tell what he did. Seemed like he just didn't do nothin'."
“Have you been to this house?”
“Naw, old Joe died 50 years ago. The old house he was livin' in has long since been torn down.”
“So how do you know all this stuff about him?”
“I'm tellin' ya, all the old folks in town know. All ya gotta do is ask 'em.”
“And they've seen Old Joe's Ghost?”
“Only on rare occasions.”
“Yeah, really rare, like never.”
Josh raised his voice a little. “But there's a lot that's heard him.”
“Heard him?” I said.
Josh continued, “ I guess the old guy died cause he was just flat out bored. As I said, nobody ever saw him do much of anything. Fact is, the old guy just flat out did nothin, and just wasted away.”
“Wasted away?”
“Yup, nobody even knew how he died. A salesman walked up to the door one day, and said he smelt somethin' awful weird and nasty. So he called the cops to come and investigate and the cops came and broke in and found Old Joe, at least what was left of him, just sittin in his old chair in his front room, dead as a doornail.”
“So what's this about hearing him?”
“Well Joe didn't talk much, just said what was absolutely necessary. He'd answer a question if he was asked, but only in the fewest words possible. Ya see, Joe just kind of grew where he was planted. He didn't get out much. He just spent most of the time in that old house. If ya wanted somethin' from Joe you had to go see him, and again, he'd just give you the raw information with no extra words anywhere. If you asked him about somethin' he didn't know about, or even about something he didn't wanna talk about, like sayin' to him, “Joe, whaddya know about dogs?”, he'd look at ya with a blind stare and say “Nothing, nothing at all.""
“Okay, so that was when he was alive. You said a lot of people around here have heard him.”
“That's right.”
“So who's heard him?”
“Lots of folks. Ya see the story goes like this. They figure Old Joe musta died of boredom. He didn't know nothin' and didn't wanna know nuthin. He didn't say nuthin' less he had to. Nobody knew of any family he grew up with or nuthin'. Ya had to ask him ten times to get an answer from him. If ya tried to ask him what he wanted, he'd just say “Nuthin', nuthin at all.” When he died they just flat put him in a pine box and planted him in the graveyard. I guess it's lucky he has a spot there at all. The headstone just says Joe Johnson. That's it."
“Are you gonna tell me who's heard him?”
“Talk to the old folks in town. They know. What they'll tell ya, is that you can talk to Joe yerself”
“Oh sure. I can talk to him myself.”
“Yeah, here's how ya do it. 'Member I told ya that ya had to ask Old Joe ten times to get an answer out of him? Well here's what ya do. Go out to the Hooper Graveyard at midnight when there's a full moon so that you can see real good, so you can see the headstones real clear. That way you'll be sure you find Joe's grave."
“What about takin' a flash light?”
“Naw, Joe don't like real bright lights. Now once you find his grave walk around it 10 times. That'll get his attention.”
“Then what?”
“Then stop, face that headstone directly and call out real loud and clear – WHATCHA DOIN' JOE?”
“And then?”
“Then you be just a quiet as a snowflake and wait and listen real good. You'll hear the same thing lots of other folks have heard. You'll hear Old Joe say – NOTHING. NOTHING AT ALL.” Josh gazed steely-eyed at me. He actually believed what he was tellin' me.
I looked back at him and said, “So has this happened to you?”
“Yup,” he said.
“And what'd you hear?”
“Just like I told you. Old Joe said NOTHING, NOTHING AT ALL!” His voice was filled with drama, and just a hint of terror. “So, you wanna try it?” Now he was daring me.
“Ok, yer on. I'm gonna show you just how stupid you are, Josh Turner. Just so happens there's a full moon tonight. I'll meet ya down there right at midnight, and we'll just see how spooky old Joe Johnson is.”
“Okeedokee. Sure you're not afraid?”
“I told ya, there ain't no such thing as ghosts”
“Well, come tonight, and you'll know for sure.”
“You got it.”
'Course then, that night the wind started to blow and there was patchy clouds and even some lightning every once in a while. I pushed up my bedroom window and snuck out about 11:45. It'd take me about 10 minutes to walk to the graveyard. I had on my dark poncho and when I lifted my arms out, I kinda looked like and enormous bat. I fairly flew till I got to the ditch by the graveyard. There was all kinds of croakin' goin' on by them there frogs. Then I heard somethin' scurry through the tall grass behind me. I turned real quick and saw somethin' about the size of a basketball go splash into the ditch water. Leaves were blowin' all over the place. The moon was playin' tag with the clouds, and would peek, through, then hide, then peek through again. The cemetery was closed, of course, but there was no fence or anything to keep me out. The moonlight fairly danced eerily on the headstones as I walked up from the parking lot to the grass. The place was definitely deserted. I couldn't even see Josh anywhere. There was a small stone bathroom building near the front of the graveyard just 10 yards from where I stood. A shadowy figure leaned against the building. It was Josh.
“Well,” he said, “you ready?
Josh wasn't cheerful. He was lookin' real serious. I was cool. Nuthin' had bothered me much to this point, but I don't remember seein' Josh lookin' quite so serious as he did now. “You sure you wanna go through with this,” he said.
“Yeah, I can do this,” I said semi-confidently. Then I mustered, “Bring on that ghosty”
“All right,” Josh said, “You asked for it. Just remember that I gave you a chance to back out.”
“Yeah.............right,” I said.
“We gotta walk out into the middle a ways first. Right up there next to the cannon on the rise”
“L-l-ets go,” I said. I didn't mean to stutter, but Josh didn't seem to notice. I really wasn't scared, my throat was just dry so it was a little hard to pronounce my words.”
“Right this way,” he said and began to walk briskly among the stones. My poncho was still blowin' in the wind. We had to walk past some bushes and they almost seemed to reach out and grasp at it. They scratched against the fabric. Josh kept movin'. “Come on, can't keep that ghost a waitin'!” he called.
“Okay, Okay.” He obviously was more familiar with this place than I was. Even though the moon was peekin' through the clouds, it was still pretty dark. I tripped a couple of times on headstones I didn't see.
“Don't kick the headstones,” Josh turned and looked at me. “Ya wanna wake up some more ghosts besides Old Joe?”
I tried to keep up better. My hands were a bit shaky, but I kept them out away from my body to keep my balance. “Come on,” he said. We finally reached the cannon.
“Okay,” Josh said, it's right over there. You'll see it right under the branch of that big tree there.” He stretched out his arm and pointed firmly. I looked to see where he was pointing.
“And let me get this straight. I'm supposed to walk around that headstone 10 times, then say 'whatcha doin' Joe?”
“That's it. Then listen real close.”
“And I'm gonna hear Old Joe's voice”
“You'll hear” (dramatically) “Nooothiinnnggg, nooothinnnnggg at aalllll!”
“Right.” I took a couple of steps toward the headstone, then glanced back at Josh.
“Go on,” he urged. I took a couple of more steps then looked down to see the headstone. Grass had grown over the edges and there was some light sand scattered about on it. I bent over and brushed it off. In simple letters it just said “Joe Johnson.” I looked over again at Josh. He put his index finger in the air and rotated it in a circular motion. I took a deep breath and started around the headstone. It was close enough to the tree that I had to walk around it too, making about a 10 foot in diameter circle to complete 1 trip. I heard a cat screech somewhere on my second time around. I looked down at the headstone, then at Josh. He stared straight at me. I completed the 3rd and 4th trip, then on trip #5 I was slightly startled by a dog howling and barking like crazy. Must have been after that cat. The wind picked up and whistled through the trees on trip 6. I paused briefly, checked the stone, then Josh, then continued. Trip 7. The clouds suddenly closed off any light from the moon. I heard a huge thunderclap on trip 8. It was suddenly cold, and my skin was prickly with goosebumps. A light rain started to fall. Gotta finish this. I quickened my pace....9...then 10. I looked up as Josh. He gestured at me to say the words. I looked down at the stone, fixed on Joe Johnson's name and then boldly stated “Whacha doin, Joe?”
It was just as I thought. There was no ghost voice. I looked up triumphantly at Josh. Now I would prove to him how foolish he was for believing in ghosts. As I looked at him, I could see that he was laughing hysterically. “There,” I said, “I proved it. What're you laughin' at?”
“Ha, Ha, Ha. What'd you hear?”
“Nuthin'”
“Right! Nuthin'! (dramatically) “Nuthin' at all!! See, the old folks was right! There is a crazy man in the cemetery!!"
Monday, July 15, 2013
Welcome 2013
Welcome to Pulling My Strings, a blog of puppetry, storytelling, and other collected creations. Enjoy your stay!
--Alan Griffin
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Against the World
I discovered this poem in my briefcase. It was written sometime around 1996. It describes a - wrestler's struggle for victory. Now to all my kids - yes, this was written for Drew. Now please don't mutter like I would - "How come Dad never wrote a poem for me?" I have you all written on my heart. It just takes time to get it in verse. I hope that this poem has application for all young men.
Against the world, a man is born
To fight and win with armor worn
The victory cry is his desire
A destiny fulfilled with fire
Without the struggle and the strife
For blood, and sweat, and tears are life
If he can train with strain and stress
He surely will achieve his quest
Commitment, dedication, soul
All effort to a single goal
Forsake the rest, abandon all
Unless he does, he risks a fall
With firmness now he grasps the foe
With ready balance for the throw
The power's smooth, the movement strong
To prove the adversary wrong
Intense and rigid, tight and sure
With taut emotion he'll endure
For certain victory can't be won
Until an all-out effort's done
And now his clutch of awful woe
Is focused on a headlong throw
It was so quick and skillf'ly done
It's over fast, the foe has won
A given place, or clime, or state
Yet aiming for a similar fate
And how will now the good man plan?
Is this foe more than just a man?
Will sweat and effort win the day
Or can there be another way?
Of failure and defeat and rout
How will the villain be ripped out?
How can this awful victory win
When all his work was free from sin?
“There is a way to vanquish strife
And win rewards enriching life
Victory's guarantee is love
Sought from the Father up above”
The hero has not yet been taught
To win without his effort fraught
But only as you make your plan
Conform to His, the Son of Man”
Just how can heaven mold a lad
To win the prize he's never had?
The Lord, your master, came to show
Eternal life should be your goal
The pain, and sweat, and blood of work
He made no effort e'er to shirk
Lift up your sight, look higher still
And focus on the Father's will
It conquers fear, and strife, and woe
It conquers all that's here below
A soft approach, not harsh, provides
A better way to make life's strides
The Lord gave man, because he could
A service gift, that's called Priesthood
Within it man can find his role
And move directly to God's goal
And how the adversary runs
The Priesthood power's force he shuns
And when His will is done, there'll be
A win that's for eternity.
Against the world, a man is born
To fight and win with armor worn
The victory cry is his desire
A destiny fulfilled with fire
And so while young a boy is taught
That one's success cannot be boughtWithout the struggle and the strife
For blood, and sweat, and tears are life
His muscles stretch, they're firm and
sore
Prepared to fight the righteous warIf he can train with strain and stress
He surely will achieve his quest
He must do more than others can
If he'll succeed and be a manCommitment, dedication, soul
All effort to a single goal
Eliminate unfocused work
And all unchanneled effort shirkForsake the rest, abandon all
Unless he does, he risks a fall
And then the battle is arrayed
And now his skill will be displayedWith firmness now he grasps the foe
With ready balance for the throw
The match proceeds and training's pay
Confounds the foe and thwarts his wayThe power's smooth, the movement strong
To prove the adversary wrong
So grip and throw and grasp and shove
This battle isn't won with loveIntense and rigid, tight and sure
With taut emotion he'll endure
It even helps to hate a mite
To foil the adversary's fightFor certain victory can't be won
Until an all-out effort's done
And then a small and slight mistake
Gives the foe his needed breakAnd now his clutch of awful woe
Is focused on a headlong throw
The hero reels, his vision blurs
The focused training's all astirIt was so quick and skillf'ly done
It's over fast, the foe has won
Another battle soon will come
A new opponent known not fromA given place, or clime, or state
Yet aiming for a similar fate
And how will now the good man plan?
Is this foe more than just a man?
Will sweat and effort win the day
Or can there be another way?
What is the price for victory here?
Can work alone dispel the fear?Of failure and defeat and rout
How will the villain be ripped out?
A young man's face is rendered wet
The tears do come amidst his fretHow can this awful victory win
When all his work was free from sin?
The air is still, a quiet voice
Proffers now a different choice“There is a way to vanquish strife
And win rewards enriching life
Each battle fought severely sore
Does not become the total warVictory's guarantee is love
Sought from the Father up above”
How can it be, where is the way?
This can't be how to win the dayThe hero has not yet been taught
To win without his effort fraught
The voice again begins to teach
“The triumph's well within your reachBut only as you make your plan
Conform to His, the Son of Man”
And now what is this wondrous plan
That makes a boy become a man?Just how can heaven mold a lad
To win the prize he's never had?
“Rewards are many, but there's one
That's worth them all, when all is doneThe Lord, your master, came to show
Eternal life should be your goal
All worldly strife He has endured
Life beyond death, He has ensuredThe pain, and sweat, and blood of work
He made no effort e'er to shirk
And yet He showed a better path
To conquer opposition's wrathLift up your sight, look higher still
And focus on the Father's will
Just give yourself to Him above
And let Him show you how to loveIt conquers fear, and strife, and woe
It conquers all that's here below
It takes a heart that's keen to hear
His whispers felt, not heard with earA soft approach, not harsh, provides
A better way to make life's strides
A gift to young men built for love
That fits him like a molded gloveThe Lord gave man, because he could
A service gift, that's called Priesthood
It's given to protect and care
And make life good and shun despairWithin it man can find his role
And move directly to God's goal
When magnifying Priesthood right
Our yoke is easy, burdens lightAnd how the adversary runs
The Priesthood power's force he shuns
So now about the worldly war
It's time to let His victory soarAnd when His will is done, there'll be
A win that's for eternity.
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