Our adventure continues

Three days ago at around 5:00 PM I received a phone call from a Jordan School District area director, asking me if I would accept an administrative intern position at Eastmont Middle School. Heck yes I would! I inquired as to salary. Since I am going to be considered an intern, I will be receiving my teacher salary plus a “stipend,” which he was not quite sure of.

It turns out that not only is my good friend, who is currently an assistant principal there, suffering from yet another brain tumor and hence out of commission, but their principal is also battling cancer and will be out for a while too.

The director further informed me that the following day (Wednesday) would be my last day as a teacher, and that on Thursday I would begin at Eastmont. Whew! Talk about fast. So that morning I arrived at West Jordan Middle School extra early, packed up my belongings, wrote lesson plans, typed up general instructions, and did my best to get all things in order for the substitute and an eventual permanent hire to replace me. This wouldn’t have been as intense if it hadn’t been for the parent teacher conferences that night and the following night, which I also had to prepare for.

Telling the students good bye in each period today was difficult. I hadn’t been with them for even a month yet, and now I was telling them adios. Many were angry; many dreaded aloud that they were going to get some “fat old lady” to be their new teacher. They drilled me with questions. Many gave me good-bye hugs. And this evening’s parent teacher conferences were filled with me explaining over and over again why I was leaving so abruptly.

We have worked so hard since 2006 for this moment: the numerous applications and paperwork to get into BYU; the sucker punch of not getting a sabbatical; the endless amounts of homework; the thousands in debt we incurred; the strain on our marriage, and on the relationship with my daughters; the salary we went without for over a year (yesterday was our first paycheck since September 2007); the rejections from all districts but Jordan; waiting well over half a year for a placement. There were so many times when what we wanted didn’t happen. It has been very trying on our faith, yet at the same time strengthened it. We trust Heavenly Father more now (and not just because we got this new job). Tonight as Karin and I prayed, I remembered the fast we held back in July, where I fasted for longer than I have in years and prayed steadfastly to Heavenly Father that He would bless us with an administrative position this year (I was very specific to Him). At that time he instilled in me a faith and a trust in Him that I hadn’t felt with such power in years. I felt completely confident in and content with Him and His will. I made it clear numerous times to Him that I wanted an administrative position this year, but that His will must be done over mine. And when the school year started and I had no job, I was not bothered or worried, because I trusted that Heavenly Father had some good reason behind it (I assumed that He wanted me to do something or touch somebody specific while as a teacher at West Jordan Middle this year -- or test my patience a little longer -- and I was content with that). It felt good to let go and trust Him, having done all I could. I want to keep this practice up.

We have jumped in the river again. I can see that I’ve got let God do a little bit of the driving. I am not in total control. I am excited to see where this leads.

How do I title this?

Last Friday a couple came to look at our home. This meant that we had to leave. Karin took the girls and me to our nearby park by the pond while she went to help her sister Natalie. During our time there at the park, Molly came up to me as I was lying on the grass. She asked if she could lie on top of me and I said yes, so she prostrated herself over my torso, and about 5 seconds later threw up on my chest. It stank. Luckily we had some napkins, but the stench remained. Not 20 seconds later, Grace came running up to me and exclaimed, “I have to poo!” There we were, stranded at the park, a dad with a vomit-smelling shirt, and a daughter needing to go number two. I resolved to walk us over to a neighbor’s house where Grace could use the restroom. All in all it was a funny moment.

Blood

I donated a pint of blood this evening, only to find out that the guy who stuck me ("Eddy") put the needle in my arm wrong, bubbles got in the tube, and they're going to end up throwing out my blood! I was literally 90% done with the donation when the bubbles got in. That ticked me off. At least I got free Lorna Doone cookies and a pink bandage.

Preface to the Autobiography

A few days ago I wrote about printing the autobiography of my grandfather and giving it to my father. Here is the preface I wrote in it:

From 1957 to 1960, Samuel Brooks, Sr. undertook the task of typing recollections from his life. This summer (2008) I took it upon myself to type his 50-page autobiography into the computer to preserve his history electronically. Along the way numerous questions arose, which we answered with help from the Internet, the writings of Juanita Brooks (primarily The Life of George Brooks and Uncle Will Tells His Story), and the recollections of Blodwen Parry Olson (a relative of Sam’s). Perhaps the greatest source, however, was the information my father, Samuel Brooks, Jr., provided. This resulted in over 200 footnotes, dozens of photographs, and several appendices, which should facilitate the reader’s understanding and enjoyment in reading about my grandfather’s remarkable life.

As I typed Sam Sr.’s history and learned more about him, I found myself becoming endeared to this man with whom I never shared mortality (he died in 1962, five years before I was born). This unexpected acquaintance has been a wonderful journey. His story teaches me that life is hard yet wonderful, fleeting yet rich with experience. We must make good use of the precious little time we have in this life.

It is amazing how much the world changed while my grandfather was alive. He was born in primitive circumstances in 1886: a small Western town, horse and buggy transportation, everything handmade or worked for by the sweat of one’s brow, high infant mortality, and so forth. Nothing came easy or fast. There was no air conditioning, instant communication, cruise control, or 24-hour conveniences. By the time Sam passed away in 1962 the reality of his childhood would be obsolete. Now in 2008 things are even more changed, and more complicated.

Another interesting facet of his story came in the numerous words and phrases Sam uses that have gradually disappeared from our vocabulary. I found myself resorting to the dictionary endlessly, or asking my parents for insight and clarification.

I am grateful for the simple life my grandfather led. I am touched to learn of his involvement in the endearing intertwining of the Parry and Brooks families, which began when Edward Lloyd Parry took an orphaned pioneer, 11-year-old George Brooks, under his wing in 1856, and continued when Sam (George’s son) and Winnifred Parry married in 1919. I am humbled to know that Edward Lloyd Parry helped build three of our temples (St. George, Manti, and Salt Lake). I am awed that my ancestors were able to settle a very remote, dusty, hot St. George, and help it flourish. Even today, St. George is stamped with the Brooks legacy. We Brooks descendants come from pioneer stock, steeped deeply in the Mormon tradition and, more importantly, the Mormon faith. We are believers in the cause of Christ, and in so many examples throughout my grandfather’s history this theme is evident.

To clarify Sam Sr.’s story, my father and I added subtitles throughout his writing. In addition to his autobiography, we decided to include Sam Sr.’s journal entries from 1918 to 1920 and 1931 (beginning on page 56), where he writes in detail about his experiences during World War I and courting his wife Winnifred Parry. Enjoy this incredible trip.

- Tim Brooks, August 2008