Sundays in New York

We don't buy things on Sundays. In the past it hasn't been an issue for us because most places in Utah are closed on Sunday. Also, we didn't often find ourselves out and about on Sundays when we lived in Utah. We were at home, at family's house, or at church. We weren't often in commercial areas. In New York, we live 15 blocks from the church, so we often walk. Walking through New York is a commercial experience, to say the least. We find ourselves thinking, "Hey, we should stop at the store and get this while we're out," forgetting that it's a Sunday - since the city is alive as normal and we're walking around like normal. This is compounded by the fact that every restaurant is jammed with New Yorkers having brunch.

Just a thought.

Change in Missionary Age

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints announced today that young men will be eligible to apply for missionary service when they have graduated from high school (or its equivalent) and have attained age 18. A few thoughts about this change:

- The pool of potential missionaries will increase. I'm sure it is not an entirely uncommon occurrence for a young man to graduate from high school with full intentions of serving a mission, only for that intention to dwindle with time, or become impossible through transgression. With missionaries able to depart immediately following high school, they will not face this awkward waiting period.

- There will be less demand for male BYU dormitory housing. Dorms are mostly occupied by pre-missionary boys who are attending BYU for a year before they can serve a mission. If most boys serve before they start school, they will most likely live off campus upon their return.

I think this change will be positive. I wish I could have gone right after high school.

Welcome Home

Today I attended the Pittsford ward with my brother and my baby. Coming back to your home ward is an interesting experience. You see all the people that made such a difference in your formative years, and you want to show them the best side of you, so that they can make comments like, "Oh that Sven, he's grown up to be such a nice man," or "Wow, look at Sven's baby - he's the cutest ever!" Well today's homecoming was unique, to say the least.

As we walked into the chapel, about 10 minutes late, baby decided to take a running facedive into the wooden side of a pew. I had already felt all eyes on us as we walked in, and my suspicions were confirmed when baby's accident elicited an audible gasp from the entire congregation. He bled a little, and cried a lot, but eventually calmed down and we finished the service without further incident.

As we were getting up to leave, a random lady came up to us and said, "I don't know if you noticed, but you son fell and hit his head when you were walking in here." I replied that I indeed, had noticed. Then she went on, "I don't mean to criticize, but as a medical professional, I thought I'd mention that you really shouldn't pick him up by one arm like that." I replied that while I appreciated her concern, I was fully capable of raising my own child. She then asked how I'd like it if someone were to pick me up by one arm. "I'd like to see someone try that," was my retort. She then warned me one last time about how I might dislocate his shoulder. I ended the conversation by assuring her that I knew what I was doing and that I intended to completely ignore her advice. I was probably inappropriately rude to her, but that's how I roll.

Welcome home, indeed.