tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69951418515888690872024-03-05T22:23:53.710-07:00Four PerspectivesFour Perspectives takes the vantage point of four individuals all in different phases of life. We write to connect with our readers and share those 'a-ha' moments with which we can all relate.Teachinfourthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01624243991120542485noreply@blogger.comBlogger401125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-66251451167446285182012-10-18T07:58:00.003-06:002012-10-18T07:58:37.194-06:00Two Minutes Alone<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>In anticipation of Halloween we'd like to post your writings on traditions, ghostly encounters</i>,<i> spine-tingling tales or whatever else you can come up with! Please send your posts to fourperspectivesblog at gmail.com. Here's a great segue into our new topic from Marci. </i><br />
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GUEST POST: <a href="http://carlsonclancountry.blogspot.com/">MARCI</a>
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Back in 1974 I was in the chorus of my first high school
musical. The play was called, "The Red Head." What's ironic is that
it's a rare murder mystery musical about a nice girl named Essie and a
cold blooded killer. My good friend was the lead, and we were just
sophomores. She didn't have red hair, but she had a cute red wig that
looked great on her.</div>
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On the night of November 8th, I was getting ready to go on stage.
I was alone out in the hall next to the girls dressing room. I had
been told that the very popular Mr. Burningham from Bountiful High drama
department, may be watching our play. While I was dancing and singing
in the hall, out came a handsome man dressed in a dark navy suit with
dark wavy hair from the auditorium. I thought to myself, <i>maybe that could be Mr. Burningham</i>.
The handsome man started looking around not paying any attention to me.
He looked as if he were looking for someone and walked right past me
to get a drink of water at the nearby drinking fountain. The odd thing
was I was the only one out in the hall. He kept looking down other
halls even though no one was around. I didn't feel uncomfortable,
in-fact I was hoping he was paying attention to my singing so I could be
in one of his Bountiful Community plays.<br />
I finally went back to the dressing room to tell my friend that I
thought Mr. Burningham was out looking around for someone. When I
described what the man looked like, my friend said that wasn't Mr.
Burningham.</div>
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The play was a success and everyone went home to
sleep. Everyone that is except for seventeen year-old Debra Kent. She
had come to watch the play and never made it back home. I didn't find
out about it until I attended my modern dance class the next day. Debra
was supposed to be in my dance class but was not there. One of the
girls had told me that she may have been kidnapped the night before. </div>
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The next thing I knew, two police officers came and got me out of
class and took me to the principals office. They asked me questions
about the man I saw out in the hall during the play. Apparently, this
same man tried to get my dance teacher, who was watching the play, to go
outside and hold a flashlight for him while he fixed his flat tire.
She told him no.</div>
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A police artist came into the principals office and asked my dance
teacher and I to describe in detail what the dark haired man in the dark
suit looked like. I must have been there for a few hours. <br />
Everyone
felt really sad for the Kent family. Debra Kent was never found and it
wasn't until years later that I got a good look at the man with dark
wavy hair. He was on national television and his name was Ted Bundy.
He was on trial for murdering several young women in Florida. I
recognized him right away. I felt a little sick inside and was glad
that he had been caught.</div>
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I think to myself, "Why didn't he come after me?" It may have been
because I was in costume and was making a fool of myself. Or, maybe,
it just wasn't my time to go. In any case, my two minutes alone with Ted
Bundy were quite enough. </div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-71677067326742016142012-10-15T09:48:00.003-06:002012-10-15T09:49:14.527-06:00Always Look on the Bright Side<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is not the post that I originally planned….<br />
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I’ve been pondering a lot of things lately.<br />
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As you all know, our beloved Teachinfourth was taken home all too soon. Those of us left behind are stunned and shaken, and missing all the great and little things that made him such a wonder to be around. My brother had a way of lightening another person’s load; no matter what was going on in his own busy day, he never failed to find the time to lift another person who was down.<br />
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But what now? I think to myself. How do I go on without him? How do I find enjoyment in life now that he isn’t here to share it with me?<br />
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Well, here is what I figured out….<br />
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You pick yourself up and keep busy. You give yourself in service to others. You take the time for the little things… like reading a book, or, even better, read one aloud to someone. I am amazed at how much more I enjoy a book when I read it to my husband.<br />
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You take the time to appreciate rainbows. You walk through the fallen autumn leaves and relish in the crunch underfoot that reminds you of your youth. You make a deliberate decision to look for the silver linings in things that come your way.<br />
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You remind yourself that it is okay to sing and to dance and to find joy in your days.<br />
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Yes, there will be tears, but tears are a good thing… tears are a way of letting go of those emotions that shouldn’t be boxed away inside. It is okay to cry. You’re human, and a part of you has broken. We all cry<br />
when we are in pain, but pain doesn’t last forever.<br />
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Part of me will always miss and long for my brother… but I also know that he would feel terrible to know that his passing was keeping me in pain. We shared so much laughter and companionship… how can I not be grateful for all the time that I was able to have him here in my life?<br />
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Change can be hard, especially when it is not of your choosing… so make some changes that you do have control over. I went and got my hair cut incredibly short. It was a big change as I had been growing my hair out for the last few years, but it was something completely within my control and besides regaining a bit of control, my new look is absolutely fabulous.<br />
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Sadly I come across people who knew my brother and are devastated because they do not believe they will ever see him again. I tried thinking that way for a moment and firmly told myself “you will never see him again or hear that dear voice teasing you again”. I won’t kid you; I went into a round of hysterics. It took me awhile to calm down enough to remember that it was okay, that I knew better. I can only imagine how hard it must be to live with that kind of belief on a daily basis.<br />
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So what do I believe?<br />
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Well I am not about to stand on a soapbox and thump on my Bible saying, “Well God says this…” because not everyone believes in God, or other supernatural beings that hold the strings of the Universe in their mighty hands, but I will remind you of this: simple physics state that something cannot become nothing. Matter may be converted into another form, but it does not cease to be simply because we can no longer see it. Not only does science support this, but my heart and mind do as well. My brother may have laid his body aside, but the essence that was truly him still exists.<br />
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I recently came across an excerpt from “The Last Battle”, which is the final book in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia (one of my brother’s favorite series)… it was because of this excerpt that I changed my post for today….<br />
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It was the Unicorn who summed up what everyone was feeling. He stamped his right fore-hoof on the ground and neighed, and then cried:<br />
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"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!"<br />
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For those who have not read this particular book, the unicorn has just witnessed the destruction of Narnia, and is expressing everyone’s amazement at what awaited them. Here was what they thought would be the very end of things, and then they discover that all they knew before was but a pale shadow of what was to come.<br />
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Until I am reunited with my brother again, I will remember this: that he is home, and he is fine… and while I plan to live a very long and fruitful life, I can rest assured in the knowledge that he will be there to greet me when it is finally my turn to depart from this life into what greater adventures lie before me.<br />
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So yes, I miss him dearly and still do shed tears of mourning, but I also hold within me such happiness at the thought of that glorious reunion that awaits us all when our time upon this beloved Earth is through.<br />
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So, you ask. What do I do in the meantime?<br />
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Simple.<br />
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You go on living.Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-58102859738879863002012-10-08T06:00:00.000-06:002012-10-08T11:08:40.362-06:00Restoration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">While Mindy would gladly spend her
days wandering through the majesty of the world around her snapping photos,
listening to - or singing along with - an eclectic set of music, reading, or
capturing her sometimes rambling thoughts in written form, she realizes that
none of those things, at the present, pay her very well. To keep the wolves at
bay she spends her days in a profession she loves - most of the time - as a
teaching principal in a small, rural school in the midst of the rugged beauty
of the desert. You can read more about her extraordinarily ordinary life
at <a href="http://mindymusing.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Mindy’s Musings</span></a>. </span></i></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">“I restore myself when I'm
alone."― Marilyn Monroe</span></i></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2gXdDTA4RcgtK7F40hgzgXqfUFQaYIBu14KVWT3NAC7aIOuKixP6QfXN8EXF2xj1bZu1-1JiwkeO9bmENPvqFwzRSyQnUNjh4fDo0v46v1P4DIV2DpCAUJkun53C6zfynpYnCSfp6SfM/s1600/IMG_4125+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2gXdDTA4RcgtK7F40hgzgXqfUFQaYIBu14KVWT3NAC7aIOuKixP6QfXN8EXF2xj1bZu1-1JiwkeO9bmENPvqFwzRSyQnUNjh4fDo0v46v1P4DIV2DpCAUJkun53C6zfynpYnCSfp6SfM/s320/IMG_4125+-+Copy.jpg" width="240" /></a></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>
</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">As I was driving through the natural beauty of Capitol Reef
I noted that periodically off the side of the paved trail there were little
green signs staked into the ground. I finally decided to stop for a moment to
see what information they were meant to impart to those who travelled on the
long and winding road. The signs stated that all along the trail were
"restoration areas" and urged passers-by to "stay off" in
order to allow the restoration effort to be as successful as possible.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I wondered how often we trample (sometimes unknowingly) on
others who may be in the beginning stages of a "restoration"
themselves. Do we jump to conclusions about who they are and what their lives
are like? Do we rush in with ready-made solutions when all they really may need
is a listening ear, or even just a little bit of time to work through and
process things on their own? Do we sometimes stunt others' growth by our
preconceived notions of what we think their problem is or what the
"right" solution is - at least in our minds?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";"><br />
How often have we been in a state of "restoration" ourselves when
someone has unwittingly tromped across our own fragile growth that may be
struggling to push its way through to the surface? How many times have we put
on a good front when deep inside what we really need is a moment or two to step
back, reassess, and restore ourselves?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Maybe we all should pay a bit more attention to the
"signs" that let us know that someone just might need an extra smile
or hug; a shoulder to lean on or a listening ear. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Though the words in this song speak about a divine restorer
and restoration, I think it can apply just as much to each of us and our
relationships with those around us.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";"><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/E9WdTk4Okls" width="560"></iframe></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">May we all be tools of restoration, rather than destruction,
in the lives of those with whom we pass through this mortal coil.</span></div>
</span><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><u><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Restore
Me- Anthony Evans</span></u></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">On the
outside, You think I'm alright</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">There's
a smile on my face, everything's okay</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">But on
the inside there's a different story</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I've
stumbled down this road and I've got so far to go</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I'm a
broken man</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">On my
knees again</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Longing
for a touch from You</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I need
your hand to</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Restore
me, I need Your mercy</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Take me
to the place I used to be</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Use all
the pain and the hurt</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">To do a
greater work and restore me</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I wore
my mask, running away from my past</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Hiding
all my scars, thinking I'd gone too far</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">But He
knew my pain and He loved me just the same</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">He
promised, I'd be free if I fell on my knees and cried</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Restore
me, I need Your mercy</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Oh, take
me to the place I used to be</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Use all
the pain and the hurt</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">To do a
greater work and restore me</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Restore
unto me the joy of my salvation</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">So I'll
sing again, the song You wrote for me</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Give me
a clean heart, I want a brand new start</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Like the
moment when I first believed</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Restore
me, I need Your mercy</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Oh, take
me to the place I used to be</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Use all
the pain and the hurt</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">To do a
greater work and restore me</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Please
Jesus, oh yeah</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Give me
another chance</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">I want
to be a new man</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">Please
restore me, yeah yeah, yeah</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-35096375463290749122012-10-03T13:39:00.001-06:002012-10-03T13:39:52.417-06:00A Feeble AttemptIt makes me sad to come here to Four Perspectives and see everything at a standstill. On my personal blog, I have posted things about the daily goings-on of my life. Not because I want to write, but because I am trying to make myself write. I don't want to allow myself to stop doing something that I know I love. But it's difficult. And I'm guessing that Mel and Lori might say something similar. <br />
<br />
As much as Jason liked to give me credit as his co-conspirator in creating this blog, he was what really brought it to life and kept it going for so long.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, really. All I know right now is that I want to keep 4P going - but it's going to take some time. So, bear with me (with all of us) as we figure out how things are going to work from here on out.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, if any of our readers would like to submit a post (about anything, really!) or a topic they'd like to see covered here, please send an email to fourperspectivesblog at gmail dot com. Maybe you can carry us along for a bit? <br />
<br />
Thanks for understanding. Thanks for sticking around.<br />
<br />
~GerbGerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-68521571902167809762012-09-07T06:00:00.000-06:002012-09-07T06:00:09.280-06:00Remembering Jason<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRxVyZaezr8GUtkkZxb8cw-DOH30QZy2kFI3gcjrh1YDfkERRkIbnhm1Jg8KjfLAQpqHegGlmOeci7F7wQyzGLR4ZHIGK-WM91bKJs6sJL9w-NUOGrJzW4wnnOM7aj8iGzcrgcuWGzqLUw/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRxVyZaezr8GUtkkZxb8cw-DOH30QZy2kFI3gcjrh1YDfkERRkIbnhm1Jg8KjfLAQpqHegGlmOeci7F7wQyzGLR4ZHIGK-WM91bKJs6sJL9w-NUOGrJzW4wnnOM7aj8iGzcrgcuWGzqLUw/s320/heart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Jason's birthday is this Sunday, September 9th. He would normally be planning his own little birthday celebration, which he liked to call Christmas in September, and inviting all of his friends and blog readers to join in the festivities. <br />
<br />
This year, there have been quite a few people who had the same idea of how to celebrate Jason's birthday: to perform some act of service for someone in his memory. Things like paying for an extra ice cream cone for a stranger, posting uplifting quotes in public places, donating books to a school library, writing a note to someone to express your love and admiration, or paying for the order of the person behind you in the drive-through. <br />
<br />
Jason's friend Emily created a website in honor of this day. It's called <a href="http://rememberingmrz.blogspot.com/">Project Z</a> and it's a way for us to share with each other the ways we've chosen to remember our friend. <br />
<br />
Here's what Emily had to say about it: <br />
<br />
<i>The idea is to just keep in mind Jason's spirit of giving, and his
frequent random acts of kindness. For his birthday weekend, we want
people to spread Jason's love around and try to keep him in mind while
doing as many of these little (or big!) things as possible. If anyone
wants to, we can share them on the blog or share reactions, our
impressions, thoughts regarding Jason and the way he influenced all of
us. I put a map on the blog because I know Jason had friends and family
worldwide that could participate and I thought it would be fun to see
where people are performing these services. </i>
<br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>I also contacted Maceys and explained a bit about
Jason. The manager seemed excited and told me they could definitely do
what I asked them (to provide as many free cones as possible with
whatever amount I was able to send in) and tell the people it was in
memory of someone special. She told me they could keep track of the
number of cones/flavors and I also asked if they had any special
experiences related to the surprise if they could share briefly. I
thought that would be a fun thing to do, since Jason really delighted in
doing it. </i></div>
<div>
<i> </i></div>
<div>
Are you in? Click over to<span style="color: blue;"> <a href="http://rememberingmrz.blogspot.com/">Project Z</a></span> if you'd like to read more about it or to let everyone know how you've chosen to celebrate Jason's birthday this weekend.<i> </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Go spread some love and happiness!</div>
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<br /></div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-15237732251186040102012-09-06T06:00:00.000-06:002012-09-06T06:00:16.167-06:00From Jenn<div>
"Come on, you guys! Come and see...it's perfect! Hurry!" It was
Jason, calling down to us from up the hill. He called again, "Hurry!
It's going to be gone! The LIGHT...it's perfect!" It was a
breath-taking fall evening in Provo Canyon. Jason had led us in and out
and all around the canyon, bush-wacking the entire way, for several
hours while taking our family pictures. As the sun began to set, Jason
had felt a sense of urgency and scrambled up a hill ahead of us. Our
whole family was lagging behind. My daughter was in the bushes having
the stomach flu and another kid had taken off his shoes, etc. etc. The
sun was slipping. We struggled to catch up to Jason and when we did, he
said, "Well, we missed the perfect light...but it's alright, it will
still be awesome." His camera started clicking again and he was right,
it <i>was</i> awesome. See, that was what was so great about Jason:
the light! He saw the light. Not just behind the camera, but the
light in the people he knew and in God's creation. And anyone who knew
Jason, even just a bit, could not miss his own bright light that drew so
many people to him. Now that the sun has set on Jason's life and the
rest of us lag behind, we get to keep a bit of the light we gained from
knowing him. And, thankfully, as we sang at his Memorial, "There is no
end to light."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shine on.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PBhWGJK-nuEK-DdoYzc4TPdv6B2Iaz06RuOoT0pv89hlwov71iPC-4xGlLbD7x-PoeH7GLY-3qiXzzQTZcEoHasviwZkO-2k_Bv-2-C_BDutuwHZRWSxG128nltfgknnxYwKnF_RyfvV/s640/IMG_5382WEB.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo by teachinfourth, Provo Canyon</span></div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-29695989725796399252012-09-05T06:00:00.001-06:002012-09-05T06:00:01.915-06:00From The Sedgwicks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img height="300" src="https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/?saduie=AG9B_P-DHclEDthgIWnSW8XLELZV&attid=0.1&disp=emb&view=att&th=1395c20d20c10e6b" width="400" /> </div>
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<br />
<a href="https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/?saduie=AG9B_P-DHclEDthgIWnSW8XLELZV&attid=0.2&disp=emb&view=att&th=1395c20d20c10e6b" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>My family and I have so many wonderful memories with Jason I’m not sure where to start or how to capture how much this man has changed my life and the lives of my family. Jason was my mission companion and quickly became a lifelong friend. So many wonderful memories of “Elder Z” and “Super Sedge”, the many people we taught and grew to love. The children that loved and adored him and couldn’t wait until Elder Z would come visit again. When I started a family of my own Jason quickly became the adopted uncle for my young boys. As they have grown up over the past several years they too have formed an amazing bond of love and friendship with Jason that will never be forgotten.<br />
<br />
We were so blessed to have had the privilege of having Jason in our home on so many occasions that created so many wonderful memories that will always be cherished. These visits were always highly anticipated by our boys. They would be bouncing off the walls with excitement and yet those were the nights that they actually wanted to go to bed, they couldn’t wait. Because this meant that Jason would be telling a bedtime story. He would create these magical lands of mashed potato mountains and let the boy’s interact and help the story take twists and turns as they decided what would happen next. These stories started when my oldest son Tanner was just a small child. They have continued over the years as an ever evolving story that never ended. It just kept going the next time Jason would come for a visit. Now at 13 when most young men are outgrowing bedtime stories, he still looked forward to these stories from Jason. They were so special to them and will be greatly missed.<br />
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<br />
Tanner went to Lagoon yesterday. When he came home he said, “I just kept looking around at all of the fun rides that were Jason’s favorites and the ones he liked to go on with me.” Our boy’s and my wife loved going to Lagoon with Jason. The boy’s had to share him and take turns riding with him but they enjoyed these special times with him. Jason loved the fast roller coasters as did my wife so they loved to go on them together. One of my wife’s favorite’s rides at Lagoon was the Rocket. This was also one of Jason’s favorites. He would take his shoes off and put his camera on his shoes pointing at the ride to take a video of them as they would fall, screaming from the top of the ride. Some of our favorite pictures in our family are ones that Jason took during our trips to Lagoon.<br />
<br />
Another fond memory of ours was a time when Jason came and stayed for Christmas. He was here for a couple of days and the boy’s loved it! They were more excited to have Jason here for Christmas and see him open their little gifts that they had gotten for him then they were to open their own gifts. I don’t recall if it was that same Christmas or another one after that when Jason came to stay for a couple of days and he got snowed in. He actually had to call into work and tell them that he was snowed in at a friend’s house and wouldn’t be back to work that next day. We had received over 2 feet of snow the night before. My boy’s had a blast. We played in the snow, threw lots of snowballs, made a snowman, snow angels and had such an amazing time. It took Jason and I over 2 hours to shovel our way to the side of his car so the driver’s side doors would open. Until the neighbor showed up with a snow blower we didn’t have a prayer of getting the car out before sunset. (The next week – I bought a snow blower.)<br />
<b></b><br />
<br />
Jason holds a special place in the hearts of everyone in my family. Our lives were forever changed by him and the amazing friend that he was. He had a way about him that you just couldn’t help but love him. The day we learned of his passing my son Brayden said to my wife, “I just wish I could see him one more time, that he could tell me one more story, play one more game with me, and give me one more hug and tell me how proud he was of me. If I could see him one more time I would be sure to give him a big hug and tell him how much I loved him.” I know we all feel the same way. While the bedtime stories that Jason told have now come to an end, we will always remember them, and the memories we have had with him. They will be forever engraved in our hearts. He will be so deeply missed.<br />
<br />
We Love You Jason and long for the day that we will someday meet again.<br />
<br />
With Love,<br />
Hazen, Stephanie, Tanner, Brayden and Kyle SedgwickGerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-37932201117462793232012-09-04T06:00:00.001-06:002012-09-04T06:00:08.246-06:00From Mindy<div class="MsoNormal">
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Remembering...<br />
<b></b><br />
Though I cannot claim to have a lifetime of memories with
Jason, those I do have are priceless. During the time I knew him I
discovered a man who was as varied as his photographic and literary subjects.
Humorous at times, contemplative and serious at others Jason had as many facets
as the mountains he loved and so beautifully captured in their varying moods.<br />
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Jason’s ability to capture the world through the lens of his
camera was a rare and special gift that he shared with so many. For most people
that would be enough, but Jason also had an amazing gift of both poetry and
prose that both elevated and enriched.<br />
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As a friend, Jason had the uncanny knack of drawing out even
the shyest of people and involving them. He did that for me from the first time
I met him during a barbecue at friend’s house. I am the type of person who -
when thrust into a new situation - t<b></b>ends to try to melt into the background. He
would have none of that. He spent the time to draw me into conversation and
soon we were laughing as if we’d been friends for years. He did that on more
than one occasion. I saw him do the same
for others. It was as if – for him – strangers did not exist. They were simply
friends he had not yet met.<br />
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I will miss the witty one-liners and the poignant, heartfelt
conversations. I will miss his extraordinary ability to marry word with image
to create something bigger than the sum of its parts. I will miss “<a href="http://teachinfourth.blogspot.com/2011/09/4th-annual-christmas-in-september.html" target="_blank">Christmas InSeptember</a>.” I will miss “choosing the
left” instead of the right on <a href="http://www.teachinfourth.blogspot.com/2012/05/stuck-in-sands-of-ruby-ranch-road.html" target="_blank">desert excursions</a> because “it’s more
adventurous.” …. In short - <a href="http://mindymusing.blogspot.com/2012/08/a-letter-to-heaven.html" target="_blank">I will miss my friend</a>…<br />
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Thanks for being a part of my life for such a brief time… </div>
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You will not be forgotten…<b></b>Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-74815596126646612812012-09-03T06:00:00.000-06:002012-09-03T06:00:14.161-06:00From Laura<span class="userContent">This would be about the time of year that I
usually wind my way back to Amelia Earhart Elementary, bask in the smile
of Susan the Secretary, chat up teachers in the halls as they've
trickled in for end of summer preparations, and find myself at Mr. Z's
classroom door. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Turning that knob brought with it hours of soaking in
through osmosis the excitement of a new school year. I would help with
fairl</span>y mundane things, organizing,
rearranging, filing and filling, but I was in the company of a former
colleague whose passion for education outmatched my own, whose humor and
conversation magically turned the hours to minutes. <br />
<br />
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I'm reeling at the thought that those hours will never come again. Jason, your insight, writings, photographs, stories, your friendship... all
are immeasurably treasured. You were an ordinary guy who packed three
lifetimes of extraordinary undertakings into 41 years.<br />
<br />
I'll miss you Mr
Z.</div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-58297593775263099622012-09-02T06:00:00.001-06:002012-09-02T06:00:02.532-06:00From Janelle<br />
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<br />
I have spent many an evening the past couple of weeks, hands poised on the computer keyboard in vain, to write a tribute to Jason for Four Perspectives. Somehow I feel like I owe it to Jason- my confidant, my champion, my banter-buddy, my best friend - to at least make the attempt, however ill-conceived it may be. Although I can’t help but think, if I don’t do him justice, I may be in for a major haunting where he forces me to stick needles in my eyeballs or makes me lick the bottom of my shoes or something (hey- I know Jason, and I’ve watched “Supernatural”, I know how this works).<br />
<br />So I began several times, with a random thought which soon fizzled out and didn’t come close to covering all I wanted to say. Then I started with the facts: how we first met as colleagues at a Provo Elementary School, and how I thought he was completely conceited, and all the kids in the school mysteriously adored him, and, hey…he was single (a rarity in my line of work). But after typing an entire page about the history of the first couple of years of our friendship, I realized that a litany (that would be a “prolonged and tedious account”) of facts would not do his memory justice, either. Plus, it would bore readers to tears and probably Gerb would never publish it anyway. So I would have to come up with something new.<br />
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<br />Recently, I started to think about the weeks before school started every year, and how Jas and I would talk about the mountain of tasks to be done to get our respective classrooms ready for the coming year. We would have similar experiences – standing in the middle of the classroom, gazing all around, feeling not a little overwhelmed and not even sure of where to begin. Sometimes we’d give up and just go home, putting it off until tomorrow, then go to a movie and out to dinner. But eventually the work HAD to get done, and the only way was to focus on one small task at a time to accomplish and then…. well,<br />just START, already.<br />
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<br />So here is my start. Just the barest outline of my memories, really. I hope that in some small way, these things will remind you of the man you knew, or that maybe you will catch a glimpse of the man I have known and loved for the past 12 years.<br /><br />
Jason was the man who….<br />
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<ul>
<li>wrote blogs, read blogs and made friends through blogging</li>
<li>could keep up with my humorous banter like no one else I have ever met</li>
<li>gave the best hugs, even though he said he wasn’t much of a “touchy” person…yeah, whatever….</li>
<li>was the only other person on the planet who listened to the Harry Potter books on CD as much I do</li>
<li>sometimes was very sensitive to my moods and needs and was so tender and kind….and sometimes was a total GUY, oblivious…</li>
<li>went on walks with me along the Provo River Park Trail, along the foothills in Provo, etc., talking about anything and everything</li>
<li>surprised me last year by coming to my classroom on the last day of school to help me because I was stressed out</li>
<li>spent hours burning all my class DVD’s for me so I would have one less thing to worry about</li>
<li>could talk me “off the ledge” with a calm, soothing voice when I was completely frazzled about something</li>
<li>watched episode after episode of “Smallville” with me until he fell asleep</li>
<li>brought me a helium balloon and took me to lunch on the one-year anniversary of my grandma’s death</li>
<li>made me CD’s of songs he liked (which I never knew the names of when people asked)</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>had a strange, prejudiced aversion to country music (except, somehow, “Sweet Home Alabama”)</li>
<li>could figure out almost any song title or artist name if given enough time </li>
<li>had a great memory for movie plots and lines and could quote any line from “The Emperor’s New Groove”, for instance</li>
<li>knew just when to grab your arm or leg during a scary movie for maximum impact</li>
<li>was very frugal, but once in awhile would spend a lot of money…. mostly on computer stuff or camera stuff, but sometimes for fun stuff like WICKED tickets, clothes, a trip to California or New York City, a new SUV…</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>let me “vacation” at his house for a few days while he was in New York for Spring Break and I needed to get “away” for awhile but didn’t have any money</li>
<li>took pictures at my sister’s wedding and of my nieces and nephews for free</li>
<li>had to have the light “just right” to take his photos</li>
<li>walked out of the Nickelback concert at the USANA amphitheater with me because the language the singer used in between songs was offensive</li>
<li>sang and danced with me to the music from said concert in the parking lot</li>
<li>made grocery shopping fun just by idle teasing and chatter….and letting me ride on the cart</li>
<li>talked to every waiter or waitress or cashier like they were old friends</li>
<li>sweet-talked a waitress at Texas Roadhouse into giving us 9 hot, fresh rolls to go –for free</li>
<li>planned my “Wicked” themed birthday party last year, blowing up about a zillion green balloons, some of which had pieces to a “puzzle” message inside them (I had to pop all the balloons to find the message, then put it together)<a href="https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/?saduie=AG9B_P-DHclEDthgIWnSW8XLELZV&attid=0.8&disp=emb&view=att&th=139800806493df57" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdVIgmlBVquXIV-0e1HqFReKnWDJVMYwUbXwzq0qdcSifZO8ZBGKlFM21K86dWUClf-8qXAzFKFgSAueR2GpEO5P5ZTh2_eBlwTrkcEWc8pd6bsB4Nntumq69Dwjv9bK2B7zsdgwJkKwZ/s1600/janelle's+bday.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdVIgmlBVquXIV-0e1HqFReKnWDJVMYwUbXwzq0qdcSifZO8ZBGKlFM21K86dWUClf-8qXAzFKFgSAueR2GpEO5P5ZTh2_eBlwTrkcEWc8pd6bsB4Nntumq69Dwjv9bK2B7zsdgwJkKwZ/s320/janelle's+bday.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>won 4 tickets to “High School Musical” on stage in Salt Lake, and took 3 of the hottest women he knew (me and two of our friends) I don’t think he knew how much those tickets were worth when he offered them to us…</li>
<li>wouldn’t tell anyone how old he really was…. but finally told me just a couple of years ago (I felt VERY special then, like I was Ethan Hunt from “Mission Impossible” or something)</li>
<li>invited me over for dinner on random Sundays to enjoy his sister’s cooking…. and once in awhile his barbeque or tortellini soup</li>
<li>walked me to my car every time I was leaving his house and always said: “Drive careful-ish…”</li>
<li>needed some serious arm-twisting before he would go shopping for clothes – but I got him to Macys and Kohls a couple of times</li>
<li>wouldn’t let me be the one to walk on the outside of a sidewalk or the edge of a road</li>
<li>would sneeze, then say “Bless me” right after – unless you were really quick and beat him to it</li>
<li>doubled up on his car payments so he wouldn’t be in debt for too long</li>
<li>parked as far away from other cars as possible so as to lessen the chances of getting a ding</li>
<li>got up early, even when he didn’t have to (I never could understand that)</li>
<li>took me in and let me take a nap at his house when I showed up at his door on the last day of school, too exhausted to drive home safely</li>
<li>loved with all his heart and would do anything for someone he loved</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPy5iPbxDZfC84Oa6zvuYOlfgziNVF7TWDwtPLsDNvIFDqRN7UZwzpYvZiHOkqztsGQkeLz7HHMOWw0li1NsdYOhQl32MM9bslx29KPYwA65iFQSAYxF4klcwdeZNt-3fEZ1mM7oecNP7t/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPy5iPbxDZfC84Oa6zvuYOlfgziNVF7TWDwtPLsDNvIFDqRN7UZwzpYvZiHOkqztsGQkeLz7HHMOWw0li1NsdYOhQl32MM9bslx29KPYwA65iFQSAYxF4klcwdeZNt-3fEZ1mM7oecNP7t/s320/heart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>put his arms around me and held me while I sobbed to him about my sister having cancer, and on the day my grandma died</li>
</ul>
A character on some cheesy chick flick I was watching once years ago said something that I’ve never forgotten, that has always made me think of Jason: “I loved who I was when I was with him.” I will miss the person I was when I was with Jas, for that was when I was truly ME. He brought out the best in me. (Well, OK, also sometimes the snarky, more opinionated me, but mostly the best….)<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlHasQT1c_ed1Gw-UJLLyd4WTL2TpOUetskvBghO8QMGIHe6G8NtXs6pcYgcmxHyb-h8yVSs9iZwmu_MpH3EOvrrqCEzoFcPgAv2q9CFARuEIeLtXNnonkVFNHfalyYWPEysMSRPSW5mh/s1600/movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlHasQT1c_ed1Gw-UJLLyd4WTL2TpOUetskvBghO8QMGIHe6G8NtXs6pcYgcmxHyb-h8yVSs9iZwmu_MpH3EOvrrqCEzoFcPgAv2q9CFARuEIeLtXNnonkVFNHfalyYWPEysMSRPSW5mh/s320/movie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
One beautiful thing that happens when someone dies is that everyone remembers all the good, valuable qualities in that person’s life. We talk and write about what an amazing person he was, and thank him for his influence for good in our lives. How sad that we do not often think to do the same every day for the people in our lives before they are gone. One favorite song of ours was “If Today Was Your Last Day” by Nickelback. All of the lyrics are poignant, but I want to leave you with my favorite part:<br /><br />If today was your last day<br />And tomorrow was too late<br />Could you say goodbye to yesterday?<br />Would you live each moment like your last?<br />Leave old pictures in the past<br />Donate every dime you have?<br />Would you call old friends you never see?<br />Reminisce old memories<br />Would you forgive your enemies?<br />Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?<br />Swear up and down to God above<br />That you finally fall in love<br />If today was your last day<br /><br />If today was your last day<br />Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?<br />You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars<br />Regardless of who you are<br />So do whatever it takes<br />'Cause you can't rewind a moment in this life<br />Let nothin' stand in your way<br />Cause the hands of time are never on your side<br /><br />This is for you, my dear friend. Remember: “Just like a tattoo”….<br />
<br />
-NellsGerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-20151984989404674942012-09-01T06:00:00.000-06:002012-09-01T13:14:23.242-06:00From Ashley<div class="MsoNormal">
I was lucky enough to have Mr. Z for both 3<sup>rd</sup> and
4<sup>th</sup> grade. I still remember sitting with my best friend at the time
Ian Bliss as we opened up the packet that let us know who our teacher would be.
Ian’s mom, Melanie, worked at the school so she worked it so that we would get
the new teacher Mr. Z. The class was combined, 3<sup>rd</sup> and 4<sup>th</sup>
grade. Mr. Z was the new talk of the school. He was THE teacher to have! He
told stories in funny voices, challenged us with schoolwork (somehow making it
enjoyable), and he did his own P.E. class which was so much fun! My favorite
part of Mr. Z’s class was P.E. I feel lucky that I had him when he did that. It
was the best!! We played all sorts of fun games and got the exercise we needed.
My favorite was the Star Wars game. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I reflect on my elementary school years, I find that the
majority of my memories are because of this great man. Because of my connection
with Melanie, Mr. Z became more than just a teacher. He was already a role
model, but also a friend. One of the most inspiring memories I have with him
was when I was 9 years old. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My ward participated in a 50/ 20 (50 miles in 20 hours) and
I wanted to join. I remember making it past the half way point when every
person in my group slowly dropped out. When I was the last one standing, I was
moved up with the group just ahead of us and continued the trek with them. This
group was too fast for my little legs and I eventually was convinced to stop. I
went home and was disappointed. My mom had already bought ice cream and treats
to celebrate, but I didn’t finish. After a lot of thought and some help I
decided to go back and finish. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My dad took me to the place where I stopped and together we
moved forward. As I came down the last street I saw a crowd of people cheering
for me. At the end of the line was Mr. Z. I remember his redish car parked in
the street playing music as he stood there grinning. He had even set up a
finish line for me to break through as I walked the final steps. I can still
picture his smiling face as he congratulated me. This guy knew how to make a
kid feel special. I don’t know whose idea it was to contact him, but I know
that he cared enough to come out there and not only support me amongst the
crowd, but to make his presence known. I love this man. He taught me so much in
and outside of the classroom. I have countless memories with him. I feel like I
could go on and on sharing them. I love him and will miss him. </div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-59202193364832104172012-08-31T06:00:00.000-06:002012-08-31T06:00:16.439-06:00From AnnetteJason was the best teacher four of my children ever had. And that's
saying something, because my kids have had some really good teachers.
What made him so great? He didn't just teach, he helped them learn. He
has an amazing website specifically for his class (check it out! <a href="http://classroomofchaos.com/" target="_blank">http://classroomofchaos.com</a>
) where he posted parent info, pictures, homework aides, and even music
playlists. He taught with zest, bringing stories to life with voices,
and made math understandable with hands on quirky activities. For
instance, when he taught graphing on the x and y axis, he would practice
with the kids, getting them out of their seats and "jumping" to Kriss
Kross's song <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=010KyIQjkTk" style="color: blue;">"Jump"</a>, and yelling out directions on the "axis". His teaching was
unorthodox, but you never forgot what he taught. I would sometimes go to
his class to help grade papers, but would end up spending half the time
just watching him teach. I was jealous that my kids got to be in his
classroom everyday. Not an understatement. He gave what many parents
considered a lot of homework, but to him, it was simply preparation for
Junior High and High School, and learning good habits. He provided
amazing incentives for staying on top of assignments and homework with
"Super Activities" and awards and recognition. He also taught "outside
of the curriculum" things like friendship, kindness, responsibility, and
thoughtfulness. Priceless lessons. <br />
<br />
In addition, Jason was a colleague of mine, helping me with film
making in my GT classes at the same school, as well as giving me ideas
by his example. We became good friends and "hung out" as it were by
helping out at super activities and in various and sundry events, like
hiking the "Y", or "Christmas in September". His friend-shipping skills
seemed to have no limit. He had a way of looking out for everyone. For
example, when my husband was away for 3 months, he and his siblings had
our family over for Thanksgiving dinner. He always aimed for the
"exceptional" in everything he did. <br />
<br />
Although I have mentioned a lot, I have barely scratched the
surface. He was a wonderful teacher and friend. I am deeply saddened by
his loss. It feels like there's a hole in my heart now that he is gone.
I loved him dearly and will forever be grateful to him for, well, for
everything. <br />
<br />
Always,<br />
Annette EvansGerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-75277963706230467302012-08-30T06:00:00.000-06:002012-08-30T06:00:10.994-06:00From Tanya<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">J - </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had a hard time sleeping last night.<span> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span> </span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I kept relieving all of our many memories… seeing your face,
hearing your voice.<span> </span>Even though it has
been awhile since we have "seen" each other, it always felt like no
time had passed at all.<span> </span>Whenever I was having
a rough time or a bad day, I would pull up your blog and read your latest.<span> </span>You always had a way of making me smile, of
helping me feel better, and of challenging me to see the world through
different eyes. <span> </span>What could I possibly do
that would adequately honor all you are for me?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remembered the day we first met.<span> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span> </span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was at the Newport Theater.<span> </span>Brad brought you in and introduced you and
assigned you to work with me on the concession stand that night.<span> </span>You had a full beard and looked waaaaay
beyond your age.<span> </span>At first, some of our
co-workers thought you were “weird”, but I just remember you made me
laugh.<span> </span>I had more fun at work that night
than I had in a long time, and you made the hours fly by. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span></span>That was the night my
life changed, the night I met you.<span> </span>I
knew then that I had met someone very special.<span> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span> </span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We became fast friends, especially after I learned you were
LDS. <span> </span>We talked for hours and bonded over
a mutual love of reading, writing, and movies.<span>
</span>Pretty soon you let me read drafts of stories you had written.<span> </span>I would mercilessly mark them up and then we
would have lively conversations discussing my edits up there in the film booth
while you were threading movies.<span> </span>I loved
that I could give you honest feedback and you would always take it to heart,
never offended.<span> </span>“Tauny,” you would say,
“it will only help me be a better writer.”<span>
</span>And then we would laugh together.<span>
</span>Oh, how you made me laugh! </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember the day you told me that you wanted to be a
writer, wanted to have a book published, and influence the world for the
better.<span> </span>I never doubted you could.<span> </span>After re-connecting with you and discovering
your amazing blog, I realized that you had accomplished that goal.<span> </span>Maybe not the way you had envisioned, maybe
not the way you wanted… but in my opinion, this was even better.<span> </span>Through your blog, you have been able to bear
your beautiful soul to the world on a daily basis, in a way you never could
through a book.<span> </span>That is something most
writers are unable to accomplish in a lifetime of trying.</span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mind raced through all the posts I have read on your blog,
through all the lessons you have taught me.<span>
</span>So much humor and warmth.<span> </span>So many
acts of kindness.<span> </span>I have a hard time
accepting the fact that I will never get to read another story from Jason, see
another amazing picture, read another blog entry. But I find a little solace knowing
that the ones we have will always be there, to help me remember.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Suddenly I remembered a certain blog post I had read some
time ago…<span> </span>I grabbed my IPad and did a
quick search, found the entry I wanted and read through it again. I knew what I
needed to do.<span> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span></span>Smiling, I made plans for the next day, and
sleep finally overcame me.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At 3:48 PM, my last meeting of the day finally ended.<span> </span>I grabbed my things and almost ran to my car,
giddy with excitement.<span> </span>As I drove
around I wondered where I could go that would make my tribute perfect.<span> </span>I probably went to three different places
before I finally settled on a destination.<span>
</span>I had butterflies in my stomach.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I pulled into the parking lot, got out of my car, and
entered the convenience store. I glanced at the cashier and noticed a bald
headed, tired looking older guy with a stern look on his face.<span> </span>Walking over to the ice cream machine, I saw
there were three flavors.<span> </span>Vanilla,
Adventure-Berry, and Swirl. <span> </span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Adventure-Berry. How appropriate,” I thought, as I made
myself a cone.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I walked up to the counter, I wondered what the cashier
would say and whether he would even agree to the scheme.<span> </span>As doubt crept it, I saw two missionaries
walk in and smiled to myself, resolve firm.<span>
</span>I knew what I had to do.<span> </span>This was
meant to be.</span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hi, will this be all for you?” the serious looking cashier asked.
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, I want to pay for four.<span>
</span>One for me.<span> </span>Then, see those
missionaries over there?<span> </span>Please let them
each get a cone.”<span> </span>I saw the question in
his eyes.<span> </span>“In memory of a friend, that
passed away.”<span> </span>My voice cracked… he
looked at me and I knew he understood.<span>
</span>“Give the last one to someone who comes in and looks like they need
it.<span> </span>Tell them it is from someone who
wanted to brighten their day.<span> </span>You can
even have it yourself, if you want. <span> </span>Thanks
so much,” I said, as I grabbed the change and receipt.<span> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span> </span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You have a great day,” he said to me, then glanced over to
the missionaries.<span> </span>I almost ran out in my
effort to not let anyone see the tears in my eyes.<span> </span>I got in my car before anyone could stop me,
or thank me.<span> </span>I drove up the road and
into a deserted parking lot to let the tears run freely down my face.<span> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For you my friend.<span> </span>I
will never forget you.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finishing my cone, I flipped the car around and headed
home.<span> </span>As I drove, I smiled as I passed
two missionaries who were laughing and enjoying their Adventure-Berry cones.<span> </span>Then I made a silent promise.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I promised that this will not be last time.<span> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span> </span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="http://teachinfourth.blogspot.com/2010/03/two-please.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">http://teachinfourth.blogspot.<wbr></wbr>com/2010/03/two-please.html</span></a></div>
<div>
<a href="http://teachinfourth.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-drove-across-town-in-bleary-haze.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">http://teachinfourth.blogspot.<wbr></wbr>com/2011/01/i-drove-across-<wbr></wbr>town-in-bleary-haze.html</span></a></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="http://teachinfourth.blogspot.com/2011/02/singles-awareness-day-challenge.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">http://teachinfourth.blogspot.<wbr></wbr>com/2011/02/singles-awareness-<wbr></wbr>day-challenge.html</span></a></div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jason was always
challenging people on his blog to do random acts of kindness, and he was always
doing them himself.</span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Sept.
9 is Jason’s birthday.<span> </span>Wouldn’t it be
cool if, on that day, the many people that he has touched band together to
remember him by following his example and performing random acts of
kindness?<span> </span>Think of the happiness we can
create, the days we can brighten, the small difference we can make in the life
of even one person.<span> </span>Will YOU accept the
challenge?</span></i></div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-46722060178243058662012-08-29T06:00:00.001-06:002013-07-04T20:28:43.283-06:00From Mel<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 130%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><i><span style="color: #660000;">Mel's Eulogy for Jason Zimmerman delivered at his memorial service on August 25, 2012</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 130%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 130%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Jason
and I had a fight this year. It wasn’t that unusual for us to disagree -
that was almost the basis for our whole relationship really. But this one
was a little more serious - probably because I was pushing Z a bit harder
than I usually did. Pushing him into an area that he didn't want to talk about
and he…well, he was being difficult. By way of an…..I was going to say
apology, but it was really more an explanation, I wrote a post about friendship
and what I feel constitutes the best kind of friend. This is part of what I
wrote:</span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 130%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 130%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> <i>-
To me the very best kind of friend is someone I have a great time with, someone
I can laugh with (I mean really laugh).</i></span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 130%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> -
My best kind of friend is one with whom I can have open conversations, and who
will prove loyal.</span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> -
My best kind of friend appreciates my good qualities but also tries to help me
mend my negative qualities - kind of the personality equivalent of the friend
who'll tell you when you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe.</span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><i> -
My best kind of friend encourages an honest and open dialogue and will
volunteer to give (as well as receive) advice about different aspects of
life not only because they care about me, but also because they want positive
things to happen in my life.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><i> -My
best kind of friend is a source of inspiration and motivation and we can
hopefully learn from each other's mistakes.</i></span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The next
time I saw Z, he brought up this post. He had realized, of course that I
had been, in fact, communicating with him via the internet when he hadn't been
willing to listen to me face to face. </span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Z didn't
always like what I had to say to him. I often wondered why we ended up being
friends, why he always circled back to our friendship even when he (or maybe I)
was being difficult. I have come to the conclusion that it was because I told Jason the truth
about the way that I saw him - the
tremendous good I saw in him but also the things that made me worry about him…
and he somehow appreciated that. </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;">So I
want to share some truths with you today about my friend Jason. I think he will
be expecting that from me and be surprised if I did anything else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> Jason
was always talking about how important his alone time was to him. But I never
quite believed him because he was the <i>cruise director</i> for pulling people
together and keeping people connected. After I stopped working at Sunset View,
he told me (not so much asked me, but told me) that we were having dinner once
a week...and we did, almost every week for the last five years. He was
always the one that organized the Saturday morning breakfasts with the past and
present Sunset View Colleagues. He was always the instigator for getting our
sort-of-core Red Rock crew together for dinner once in awhile. And I know he
stayed in contact too with people that had been important to him from years and
years ago. He was a conscientious and thoughtful friend who remembered
birthdays and anniversaries and other personal details. The relationships in
his life were important to him, he didn't want them to fade and he made a serious
effort to stay connected. It's something that I admired about him and an
example that I need to take into my own life. Especially now that he's not here
to do it for me.</span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Jason
was one of the best teachers I've ever seen. Jason in front of a class
was a sight to see wasn't he? Like a great basketball player or a great chef he
would fast break and rebound and slice, dice, saute and present a feast of
learning for his students. </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;">And he
was a hard teacher too, </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;">right?</span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;"> He actually expected kids to do their
homework, make progress and actually earn those bonus bucks. But in
return for all those high expectations he would put on quite a show. It really
didn't matter if it was math, or reading or science or P.E he was able to teach
and entertain and magically, almost without even realizing what was happening,
the kids would learn something. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">It was
magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Jason
believed in magic didn't he?</span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">He
believed in the magic of games. When we would go to Red Rock, we would
give all of the kids a bandana - for <i>practical </i>reasons. To keep the back
of their neck from getting sunburned, or to put on their head if they forgot a
hat, or to cover their nose and mouth if we found ourselves in a sandstorm.
But I'll bet what most of the kids remember about those bandanas was that
they needed theirs to play the bandana game with Mr. Z.. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I don't
know for certain if he was the one that came up with this particular game
(though he did come up with a lot of unique games). But I do know that Z was
the ringleader of the game. </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;">I sometimes
thought that we could have saved ourselves the trouble of planning all the
puzzles and books, and climbs and challenges for Red Rock.</span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;">If we had played only the bandana
game for four days, the kids would still have thought it was the best trip of
their lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Jason
believed in the magic of words. He thought that words had a enchantment and a
music of their own and he loved to try and use words to convey a sensory
experience and make you not just read but feel or experience what he had
written. </span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">He
believed in the magic of a good book. I think that he believed that when you
read a great story, it becomes part of who you are. And having the privilege of
reading a book </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">out-loud was a chance for him to perform and interpret a unique
form of art. And he really <b>loved</b> doing that.</span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">He
believed in the magic of music. Again using Red Rock as an example; A few years
into the program, Jason came up with a tune on his guitar that we somehow
decided to use as our theme song. I wrote some verses about some of the
uniquely-Red-Rock experiences like eating mostly sand for dinner or crowded
tents, but the really fun thing about that song was that each group, or clan,
would come up with their own verse for the song and we would share all of those
on our last night of the trip. It added a whole new level on top of
anything that I had come up with and it was fun...it was just fun.</span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Jason
believed in using all of these magical elements to create memories.
Memories that became a part of who kids turn out to be and who we all turn out
to be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">But like
any great magician, he never wanted anyone to see behind the scenes - to see
how hard it was to make those magic tricks seem effortless. Being in front of a
classroom full of students, or any group of people really, did not come
naturally to Jason. He had to work at it. It was something that he wanted
to be great at, but it was also something that he wore like a coat...or maybe
more aptly a suit of armor...a
really heavy suit of armor. If you think he was hard on his
students - that is only a fraction
of how hard he was on himself. He would take every failure to heart. If a
student wasn't progressing, he saw it as a personal failure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">At the
end of the last school year, Jason wrote a post about how he worried about
this. He compared his students to starfish on the beach that he would try to
keep throwing into the ocean - even when so many covered the beach that the
task seemed impossible. In this
post, Jason mentioned talking to a friend who was trying to remind him that the
value is in the <i>effort</i>, not always the outcome. I was that friend and I can
tell you that Jason had a very heavy heart when a student was, as he put it,
“content to laze in the blistering sands.” One of the last sentences he wrote
in that post was to say that <i>“we should never feel that our energies are wasted
in trying to help another.”</i> I was glad to see that he had written that,
and I do hope he was at least <i>trying</i> to believe that bit of wisdom applied to
him as well. I was always concerned that he would burn himself out in his
endless quest for perfection. You see, despite the successes and awards Jason
enjoyed and received he always wondered: Am I good enough, Am I cool enough,
will they like me? I told him many, <i>many</i></span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> times and if he could hear me now I
would say again, Jason, you were good enough and they did like you. </span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;">One of
the last things I was able to tell Jason...to write to Jason, was to remind him
that we were <i>never</i></span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;">
friends because I thought he was perfect. Any of you that ever saw us together
knew that I was exasperated with him about 80% of the time. But in a strange
kind of way, I'm grateful that he always knew that I wasn't expecting a perfect
friend. I didn't need perfection because I saw first hand and was often a
participant in the good that he accomplished in his life and it was <i>valuable</i></span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;"> and it was <i>real</i></span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 130%;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Jason
was the most nostalgic person I think I ever met. As I said, he wanted to have
memories, he wanted other people to have them too and he often used his
beautiful photographs for that. I've never been a big fan of having my picture
taken, but once in awhile Jason caught a picture of me. When Ian, my youngest
boy was about 9 years old, I had painted a U.S. flag on his face. I
honestly can't remember why now. It was during that period of time we had
year-round school and I think it was during one of our Summer Inter-session
programs. Anyway, Jason took a picture of me peering over the shoulder of my
little patriotic Ian. Then, just last December, a few days before a 19
year-old Ian went into the MTC, Jason took another picture of us. No flag
on Ian’s face this time, but the same pose in every other respect. Ian
(probably thinking he was doing something nice) put those pictures in frame for
me and gave them to me the night before he went into the MTC. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Jason
always despaired a little that I wasn't as sentimental as he expected me to be,
but I freely admit that I love those pictures and I am so grateful for them.
They are a poignant set of bookends to Ian's childhood. I look at them
every-day and I am flooded with the memories that were made in that 10-year
span. I'll always be grateful for those pictures and for how many of
those memories include my friend Jason.</span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><i> - My best
kind of friend is a source of inspiration and motivation and we can hopefully
learn from each other's mistakes.</i></span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I have
been inspired by Jason Zimmerman, and he helped to motivate me. I have learned
from him and I hope that I will be able to take the best of all those memories
I have of him and continue to learn. I think he'd like that. </span><span style="font-family: ArialMT;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">So, good-bye my friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I hope that you've finally been able to take off that heavy suit
of armor. I hope that you’ll be <i>ready</i></span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">, when I see you again to have some of those open
conversations, and I hope that you will find that I have proven to be as loyal
a friend to you as you were to me.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12708751447703297431noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-43457181664915396442012-08-28T07:37:00.000-06:002012-08-28T07:37:01.637-06:00From Eden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslYe2mPsS1rtUuh8WiD5Fm92v0qFMjhDPXKyjps7axYYRvqf0ZclvK5JZpUzMxa09KuTHF-loyMTGF75ZrMRhooFgWhyphenhyphen_yHnleeUMPjwdoo9KVAR9LpQ5S8kTJBwpjDa9VqWjiZU9Et_E/s1600/Eden+&+Z.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslYe2mPsS1rtUuh8WiD5Fm92v0qFMjhDPXKyjps7axYYRvqf0ZclvK5JZpUzMxa09KuTHF-loyMTGF75ZrMRhooFgWhyphenhyphen_yHnleeUMPjwdoo9KVAR9LpQ5S8kTJBwpjDa9VqWjiZU9Et_E/s320/Eden+&+Z.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mr. Z was one of the most inspiring people I have ever known. I was so lucky to have him as my teacher last year. Each time the news of him passes along many tears are shed. Mr. Zimmerman died young. But I remember such good times. He was the greatest teacher! He joked around a lot. He would say things like, "That just made my brain explode out the back of my head" or call us funny names like "Muffin".<br />
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Mr. Z would take us out to recess and we would play games together. If we got our homework all done and we got at least 85% on our grades we would get to do special activities like go to the park behind his house and play night games or watch a show at Comedy Sportz. He always made learning fun!<br />
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Mr. Z is someone who everyone loved. And I miss him.Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-38804039022199867612012-08-27T06:00:00.000-06:002012-08-27T06:00:14.504-06:00From Emily<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Jason was a lot better at this than I am. He had a way about him – a way with words,<br />a way with photos, a way with his actions. I’ve spent the past few days reading his<br />words, hearing his voice narrating the stories he wrote so eloquently. For someone<br />like Jason, it sounds so cliché to say simply that he touched so many lives. Each one<br />of us feels as if we were Jason’s best friend. We all realize the magic he possessed.<br />He was truly a remarkable person, the kind you only meet once in your life. Doesn’t<br />it seem strange? He was just that remarkable – why isn’t this splashed on the nightly<br />news? Where are the paper headlines? We just lost one of the world’s greatest!<br /><br />I met Jason about 9 years ago. I was dating his roommate, but Jason and I became<br />fast friends as I lived in the basement of the home he rented. I vividly recall the<br />late night hours we spent chatting, the videos we watched, the music he played.<br />He had a way about him that was easy and comfortable – hours felt like mere<br />minutes when you were deep in conversation. He could put a smile on your face,<br />comfort your fears, and fill your stomach with the most delicious (surely artery-<br />clogging, remember his post about butter?) treats. To me personally, he was a friend<br />and confidant. One who always had room for me on his couch, one who captured<br />priceless memories with his lens. He was an anchor when I was swaying, and gave<br />me wings when I needed to fly. An example of the selfless, energetic person I strive<br />to be.<br /><br />The long hours he spent working for his kids was almost super-human. Working<br />until 2AM and up at 4, filled with excitement about a new idea (anti-gravity, anyone?<br />). His fondest memories were of the times he spent in his classroom. I can’t tell<br />you how many times he came to me about his class. His work ethic and absolute<br />passion and love for what he did, as well as whom he did it for, was so inspirational.<br />Never before have I seen a person who truly loved what they did so very much. It<br />was the very essence of his being. In his own words when writing abut his legacy,<br />he said “it’s not what I leave behind when the days of tomorrow have<br /><br />passed, but it’s what I am living today…my living legacy. That ‘gift’<br />which I give back to the world, the heirloom I pass down to as many<br />as I can – I am a teacher”. He surely was, and will continue to be. Literally and<br /><br />figuratively, he taught each of us something: how to take better pictures, how to<br />write, how to laugh. How to be a better person. I know I am forever changed for the<br />better, and forever grateful, to have had Jason in my life for the very brief period he<br />graced it.<br /><br />There are so many memories I want to share, but right now they are all lumped<br />together, caught in the back of my throat as I try hard to swallow. I’m avoiding those<br />hot tears that scream ‘this is real!’, the ones that send me back into that whirlwind<br />again. The blog header photo of the classroom with the single, empty chair in the<br />middle strikes me as poignant right now. It speaks volumes of the emptiness he has<br />left behind, but the legacy he has kept that will go forward.<br /><br />It is my hope that we will all carry a bit of Jason with us forward in our lives. That<br />we teach our children with a little bit of his creativity. That we look through our<br />lens with a little bit of his eye. That we stop and marvel at the true beauty of things,<br />like his beloved desert. I hope that we all reach out to those we love and care about,<br />telling them and showing them just how much they mean to us. Be involved in their<br />lives. Share their struggles as well as their triumphs. Because you just never know<br />when those moments will make a difference, and when you’ll no longer have the<br />chance to make them together.<br /><br />Jason said it best himself (as per usual!) when he wrote about the death of Arlene:<br />“This was a person; a person who made a difference in the lives of many people.<br />A lifetime of achievement cannot be condensed down and crammed into such a<br />small section and truly do them justice. It simply cannot be done – not really.”<br /><br />Jason’s parting is difficult to understand. But I think it best and fitting to end with<br />his own remarks, a comment he left about one of his posts on Four Perspectives. He<br />said (some parts omitted for context):<br /><br />There are times in all of our lives when – I believe – we look at the skies above us<br />and we ask the big questions…we ponder.<br /><br />We doubt.<br /><br />When I write, it’s to share moments of my own life – I’m allowing you a peek into<br />what I’ve experienced, good or bad. This is one of those storms I weathered and<br />came through the other side.<br /><br />Perspective is such a powerful thing, isn’t it?<br /><br />We all come through moments (or read about others’ lives) and we related to<br />them all in different ways, and see them through the lens of our own living and<br />experience. We make sense of them through what we know, and infer as best we<br />can what we don’t.<br /><br />Just know that life is good.<br /><br />The world is a beautiful place.<br /><br />There are no coincidences.<br /><br />Thanks for your beautiful comments.<br /><br />Thank you for reading.<br /><br />Thank you for always coming back…<br /><br />Thank YOU, Jason, for sharing your life with me. With all of us.<br /><br />Things are “more better” now because of you!<br /><br />Love you forever.<br /><br />EmilyGerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-30426363598598614502012-08-26T06:00:00.001-06:002012-08-26T06:00:03.040-06:00From Kristen<div>
So, one day he had me come to his class - was it last year, or the
year before. I think the year before. He wanted me to talk to the kids
about writing books. As I was fairly sure I knew more about that than
the kids did, I accepted the invitation. And in doing that, got an
insiders view of what went on in the classroom-crowned-with-a-<wbr></wbr>propeller.
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He
handled the room the way a magician handles an audience—slight of hand,
phrase—I know a pro when I see one. He treated his kids pretty much the
way he treated us grownups, with that wry, limit-setting tongue of
his—sometimes a little sharp, but only because he respects us enough to
give us a straight-up answer. I teased him about his hair. I teased
him about marriage. He gave me back as good as I got. Which is why we
became friends.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But the thing that gave me the
most insight into him was what I saw in the halls of that school as we
came back in from recess. It was like the man was a magnet, walking
through a hallway full of iron filings. Kids would leap out of the
student flow and attach themselves to him - throw their arms around him
and bury their faces in his shirt. That, or throw words at him, like
they had five seconds to get in a round of speed tennis. And I knew him
then - the favorite teacher. The guy piloting the fifth grade class.
I almost remembered him, because my own fifth grade teacher had won my
own love, back in the day. But I never would have thrown my arms around
him the way those kids were doing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't
know much more than that about Jason. Well, a few things—we did have a
chance to talk a couple of times. Funny - the last time we got together,
it was him giving me courage and hope, strength to go on. The irony
stings. All I know is, I hardly knew him, but he loomed large in my
life nonetheless. And he will be missed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
~Kristen Randle</div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-58808685173028280852012-08-25T06:00:00.001-06:002012-08-25T14:16:13.317-06:00From George<div>
I was in third grade when Mr. Z came into my life. He had just
finished his time as a missionary for the LDS church and was working as
an aide in my class at Cascade Elementary in Orem, Utah. I had a
learning disability that no one knew about back them and really
struggled in school, especially in math. I was also the victim of a lot
of bullying. Mr. Z spent hours of one-on-one time with me to help
me learn times tables and get up to speed in other areas as well.
While most of my peers and teachers at that time had me convinced that I
was stupid, lazy, and would probably never amount to much, Mr. Z
helped me believe in myself and have the confidence I needed to
succeed. He always made me feel like I was the most important person in
the world with the ability to accomplish anything I put my mind to.<br />
</div>
<div>
Over
the next few years, even though he no longer worked at Cascade, he
continued to keep in touch with my teachers to see how I was doing and
write me fun personal letters of encouragement. He gave my parents and
teachers insight into my struggles that allowed me to find the
individualized help I needed to eventually succeed in high school and
college several years later, as well as set the goal of one day
attending medical school.<br />
</div>
<div>
Without the help Mr. Z gave me
all those years ago, I don't think there is any way I could have
performed well enough academically to get where I am today. I will
forever be in debt to Mr. Z for the love he showed me that has played
such a big part of what I have been able to accomplish throughout the
course of my life.<br />
</div>
<div>
I am so grateful not only for
the way
he helped me back when I was a child, but that God allowed me to
miraculously get back in touch with Mr. Z during the last part of his
life after he had helped me come so far. I'm grateful for the small
amount of time I was able to spend with him over the last year or so,
that I was able to at least tell him "thank you" for all of his help
all those years ago and let him see what I have become because of
it.<br />
</div>
<div>
For the rest of this life I will always miss him, his
encouragement, his ability to make me feel like I was amazing, his
hilariously one-of-a-kind personality, his jokes, his pictures, his
inspiring posts, his stories, his voice, his example of service,
selflessness, and love, and his overall sheer awesomeness.<br />
</div>
<div>
Thanks for everything, Jason. 'Til we meet again, my dear friend.</div>
<div>
-George Benson </div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-47637259998946156572012-08-24T06:00:00.001-06:002012-08-24T06:00:15.679-06:00From Rachel<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_qwnCdDEtzyUxqVTMy0x50Es_v7KR76aIlVivCUusfUKVFZgy08qwHJdh0t-euFCkNWbZRBzt0yUE-fvriBajiVaejvbPQH_6nCFlLtHP_4rlyt5jI1dLnwDoz-dqLyhEoG79DCZvATQ/s1600/jasonandm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_qwnCdDEtzyUxqVTMy0x50Es_v7KR76aIlVivCUusfUKVFZgy08qwHJdh0t-euFCkNWbZRBzt0yUE-fvriBajiVaejvbPQH_6nCFlLtHP_4rlyt5jI1dLnwDoz-dqLyhEoG79DCZvATQ/s640/jasonandm.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
It was several years ago that Jason, known as Mr. Z, came into
mine and my family's life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a teacher at the school where my children went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My son was in the 5<sup>th</sup> grade and would come home from school
and tell me about a Mr. Z who he adored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn't know until later, but my son would follow Mr. Z into the
lunchroom and sit by him to eat his lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mr. Z told me he didn't know who this kid was who had attached himself
to his side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over time, he got to know
my son and a friendship blossomed.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
As that school year progressed, I would go to the school to
help my son with projects he had in his class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One day, I was waiting out in the hall and a teacher, Mr. Z walked by
and told me, “Welcome!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked into
his classroom which was across the hall from my son's.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I continued to sit in the hall waiting for my
son's project to begin and wondered and marveled as I saw student after student
over a time of about ten minutes sneak into Mr. Z's classroom to wish him a
happy birthday and then come out giggling heading back to their classes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who is this Mr. Z, I wondered?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was obvious the kids in the school adored
him and not just his students who were in his class at that time!</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
Months passed by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Spring came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was waiting for my
children to come home from school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
door burst open and I was informed by one of my children that their special
needs brother wouldn't come home from school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thinking that he was just being stubborn like he sometimes would get, I
grabbed my bike and went to try to persuade him to come home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riding my bike normally worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I rode up to the school where the cross walk
was, I saw my son on the ground and Mr. Z kneeling by him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I introduced myself and Mr. Z introduced
himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After assessing my son, I very
quickly realized that my son was going into what we call an attack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had very little time to get him home before
paralysis took completely over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told
my children to stay with my son and that I would be back shortly with our
truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Z assured me that he would
stay with the children and then told me that he had read my blog, had read what
my son dealt with, and would take care of him until I got back.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
I raced home puzzled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A teacher at the school, read my blog, and more interestingly, had read
my posts about our Levi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I got back
to the school, Mr. Z picked up Levi and put him in the truck for me and told me
that he hoped he would be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After I
got Levi home and settled, my son who adored Mr. Z told me, 'Thank goodness Mr.
Z was the crossing guard today huh mom."</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
And so it began...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I went to Mr. Z's blog to find out about this teacher who took the time
to read about our Levi and in our time of need, would stand guard and help our
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the school year progressed,
I had more interaction with Mr. Z and was impressed with the teacher that he
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The relationship he had with his
students and the joy of learning that he instilled in their hearts and minds.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
Months passed and our friendship continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Z became Jason to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day, he came to me and asked if he could
do a photo shoot of Levi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We agreed and
what enfolded was a gift I will always treasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason was able to capture Levi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the handicapped Levi that the world sees
but the Levi that we, his family sees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jason's gift with photography is unlike any that I've ever encountered.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
Jason became a part of our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is a friend to us, an uncle to my
kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When ever my kids would have a
special celebration, we had to make sure and invite Mr. Z.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made my kids feel like they were one in a
million when he was around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That they
were the only kids in his life.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
About two years ago, my son who adores Jason asked him if he
would teach him to play guitar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason
talked to me about it and we set up a weekly time for he and my son to play and
practice together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That time would
become one of the highlights of Jason's week and ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having Jason in our home weekly, sitting and
chatting for a bit before and after my son and he would play guitar, the
impromptu singing jam sessions that would follow with several of us sitting
around singing, the incentive to make sure my house was clean (or at least the
downstairs) because he was coming...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>one must keep up appearances right? (It's a mom thing.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's been only a week since Jason left us
and I miss him coming through our front door in a painful way.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
Jason was always the gentleman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wouldn't speak negatively about others and
he wouldn't let anyone around him speak negatively of others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wouldn't let me be down in the dumps which
sometimes drove me nuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would try to
wallow and feel bad and he wouldn't let me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He would remind me of the beauty and goodness around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I was going through a hard time, treats
would mysteriously show up on my front porch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One time I caught him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had
meant to sneak some peanut butter cups onto my front porch but I was sitting
outside on my porch and caught him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
sat down next to me and proceeded to spend the next hour cheering me up making
me laugh with his goofy stories.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
This past year Jason was my daughter's school teacher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will be forever grateful for the influence
for good he was in her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she
started in his class she was painfully shy and when would try to talk in front
of the class, it was just above a whisper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Through the year he helped her to build her self confidence and both my
husband and I were delighted as we saw her progress through the year and
blossom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All because of Mr. Z, Jason.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
I could fill reams of paper with how much Jason has meant to
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good that he brought into our
lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I consider it a huge blessing
that we were able to get to know Jason and have these memories of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has left a gaping hole in our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will never be forgotten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that he is busy on the other side
doing that which he was busy on this side, building and encouraging children to
be the best they can be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lifting others
and making them smile and laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
I miss you Jason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Until we meet again...</div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-56297896298247780342012-08-23T06:00:00.000-06:002012-08-23T06:00:08.175-06:00From Shawna<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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I’ve gone back and forth with what thoughts to share and
which to keep for myself, and I’ve stared longer than I care to at a blank
screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’ve got to write</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i>,
I would tell myself, but I would finally switch off the computer, realizing
that my mind was still too distracted to write anything of real substance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t say anything good is going to come
out now either, but I thought I would try writing anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe if I picked just one thing I could
somehow, magically, find myself able to write….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I think about my life with my brother, so many things
come to mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, I have known
Jason for his entire life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being only a
year apart in a rural area not only forced us to play together, but it also
contributed to the inevitable conflicts that arise between close siblings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not having a group of other people to turn
to, our arguments would quickly fade and we would once again be laughing and
playing together.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I cherish those memories, even the ones where we argued,
fought and were petty with one another, because we always forgave one another
in the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason truly was my best
friend, as much as when we were children as we were as adults.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could share a thousand little memories, each dear to my
heart, but I think it best to share the very best part of my childhood with
Jason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As happens with a lot of little
children for a time we shared a room together before we were old enough to
attend school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if my mother
eventually grew tired of how late we would stay up laughing and gabbing away,
because we eventually were given our own rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m pretty sure my parents knew this (though we thought we were being so
sneaky) because even as young children I would lie there, sleepy, and hear
Jason come in through my door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From
there we would chatter all night about important childhood things that only
matter to children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jason would talk about everything and nothing, and those
nightly discussions went on as we grew up and even after we left home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were roommates off and on for several
years, and still we talked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually I
married and he went on a mission: our conversations were a bit delayed, but I
would send letter after letter and he would send back recorded cassette tapes
of the adventures he was having halfway across the continent.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We continued to grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jason came back from his mission and again we were roommates for a time,
staying up late into the night talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After he moved out we wound up attending the same college, and would run
into each other on campus a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason
would always stop to talk, even if it was only for a few minutes in-between
classes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Jason moved to Utah
to finish his education I cried, thinking that our conversations would finally
come to a close, but we just switched to phone calls instead of our usual
face-to-face discussions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
followed to Utah
years later we started a tradition of having Sunday dinners together…. first
while he was living with roommates, and then when he purchased a home of his
own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would feed whoever chose to sit
at our table, and then as people drifted off to their own rooms or headed home,
we would find ourselves chatting away until I grew so sleepy that I would
finally head for home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Looking back I now realize that it was Jason who would start
all those conversations; I have very few memories of sneaking into his room to
talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes me glad to think back and
know that he didn’t stop simply because of my lack of initiative!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, I knew he would come in if he had
something to say, and if there was a night he didn’t come that wouldn’t bother
me either, because he’d probably come creeping in the next night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish I could remember more of those conversations
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have spent a lifetime talking to
one another, yet I can remember little except for the closeness I felt when we
were sharing with one another everything and nothing, just chatting away into
the night until the hour grew too late to stay awake any longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess the subject of those conversations
mattered little, because it was really all about feeling less alone in a world
filled with so many people; knowing that there was another person out there who
knew us and who cared about the things that happened in our day, the good and
the bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The problem with conversations is that they are a little
harder to have when they are one-sided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I find myself telling him about some big decisions I made recently, as
well as so many little things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I share
family news; I still tell him my hopes and fears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I still talk to my brother, and I feel he answers me
still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not in ways that I can hear with
my ears, but with my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I
will always talk with my brother, because we have spent a lifetime talking, and
we have an eternity of conversations yet to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And one day, hopefully far in the future
after a long and fruitful life, I will reach the place where Jason is, and our
conversations can once again be face-to-face…. the discussions between two
people who reached out, and discovered that neither of us was truly alone.</div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-10401481104334073572012-08-22T10:00:00.000-06:002012-08-22T10:06:09.653-06:00From Corine<div id="crosscol-wrapper" style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6995141851588869087" name="2845057980889246863"></a><br />
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2845057980889246863">
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I am very honored to have been asked to write a tribute to a great man,
and someone who has been one of my most cherished friends since
childhood, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Jason Frederick Zimmerman</b>. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GOczE1a_hz2fr7Zx0PgD7R4xXNFNYULAbTVi9-hEhay9bbbHrQq5WT-Ptccvs0AtRwUiajHyUlH9gpdkZ4vYN0p2Q0X9XAKEgjYvy-Xt-C5gMMIysiRuXIWG4lHwpOhwMwCkF0IYl8Mr/s1600/Jason+-+FB.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GOczE1a_hz2fr7Zx0PgD7R4xXNFNYULAbTVi9-hEhay9bbbHrQq5WT-Ptccvs0AtRwUiajHyUlH9gpdkZ4vYN0p2Q0X9XAKEgjYvy-Xt-C5gMMIysiRuXIWG4lHwpOhwMwCkF0IYl8Mr/s1600/Jason+-+FB.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;"><i>Jason </i></span>has led an amazing life and developed many beautiful talents: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">photography, guitar, teaching, drawing (in his youth), writing, acting…</i> Volumes
can be written about these talents and many others that he developed
throughout his life. It seemed that whatever Jason does, he does it
well. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But the talent I think of most when I think of Jason is one that </i>I
continually witnessed in his character when we were kids. Because I
spent most of my time with him in our youth, I will take you back in
time and give you a glimpse of him in his beginnings…</div>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdXwxchoQ2vi-NW8hbXMrHKb2_T9OptWAISuqQIn_ial0pUJKgOHSrAwdnt7kVUgQM-Vl61hBdk8UwXTobxkCe7EXXVvSoHCCp5hadzVqukg9yCeXyYMfQpwC6k1xpcVVYhjvSL89aS6-D/s1600/IMG_7410.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdXwxchoQ2vi-NW8hbXMrHKb2_T9OptWAISuqQIn_ial0pUJKgOHSrAwdnt7kVUgQM-Vl61hBdk8UwXTobxkCe7EXXVvSoHCCp5hadzVqukg9yCeXyYMfQpwC6k1xpcVVYhjvSL89aS6-D/s320/IMG_7410.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Letters, cards, a poster and a banner... <i>He spoiled me! :)</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jason was an incredibly sweet kid. He had a crush on me when we were
kids (beginning about 10-12, and yes, I fell for him later on). I hadn't
grown into boys yet, so when he would give me little love notes I would
burn them in the fireplace. The notes kept coming, and eventually mom
talked me into keeping them; she said I would later enjoy looking back
on them, so at about age 12, I started keeping the letters. <i>Mom was right. I cherish those sweet letters still. :)</i>
I could never mention this before, so as to not embarrass him, but I
don't think he will mind now. These letters are precious. He is precious.
He was such a sweet boy with an incredibly big heart. <br />
<br />
Jason had a knack for making others happy. I don't think he could stand
to not be there for others… Uplifting, Serving, Encouraging,
Sacrificing, Giving, and Forgiving<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…This is how Jason lived his life</i>. He did it in his professional life. He did it in his personal life.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I wonder how many people, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like myself</i>, counted HIM as<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> their <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">best friend</span> BECAUSE NO ONE TREATED THEM BETTER or LOVED THEM MORE THAN HE DID!</i></b><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHuO0ujQg6II4P6ZH3VQU5TSi1fZRyF1SDu8bqroOi5jPPz-0ApF8pkqPpU03ALIFc-XcVry9Z_7WkUWoPDMy-LYLO4T_uVgjaam1W_ZrnFuPGmMwyB6bFiD4ivQshrmlxXyW_M_2iVar/s1600/Jason+-+wallet+photo+-+age+15.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHuO0ujQg6II4P6ZH3VQU5TSi1fZRyF1SDu8bqroOi5jPPz-0ApF8pkqPpU03ALIFc-XcVry9Z_7WkUWoPDMy-LYLO4T_uVgjaam1W_ZrnFuPGmMwyB6bFiD4ivQshrmlxXyW_M_2iVar/s320/Jason+-+wallet+photo+-+age+15.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite photo of him when we were 15</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Looking back, Jason was the center of a small circle of very close friends that I was blessed to be a part of. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He was the highlight of our lives</i>!
I looked forward to mutual each week - more for the time I would spend
outside with him after the planned activity than for mutual (and I loved
mutual!). He was so expressive and animated, and that drew me to him. I
love the way he could come up with something cleaver and witty in an
instant and made me laugh! His sense of humor is INCREDIBLE! He could
have me laughing so hard I couldn't breathe! I also LOVE his enthusiasm;
I am thankful to have caught it, and consider it my greatest asset; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I will one day thank him for that. :D </i>There are other things I also strive to emulate from my associations with Jason. </div>
<br />
Jason has a way of making everyone feel special and important. He treats <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everyone</i>
with politeness and utmost respect. He always looked for the best in
others. He was always smiling, always teasing, and always lifting the
downward lips of others. And for as long as I have known him, Jason has
been very quick to forgive. I recall the quarrels a friend and I had
with each other in our youth. Jason was always the mediator who smoothed
things out between us. Looking through an old letter he wrote to me I
was reminded of his brief and gentle plea that I not be angry with her.
His love and friendship are completely unconditional. Though we were
both very young at this time, (and he was only 6 months older than me
and treated me more than equal), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he became, not only my best friend, but also my mentor</i> – <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I will forever strive to be more like him!</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWojF8FgwPBVVeDpCMoFRVQLpgGcTDnxzQF_MMJMRIvV9KdZFH5X03C4KsuozJTShTKHr5yY-aWyiq8oINm96cA5XdIbsoyNlNDNd8E3bVRjlTYjRKneyMWN7vR6tqqJJCzlmG9gAICSL/s1600/scan0013--cropped.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWojF8FgwPBVVeDpCMoFRVQLpgGcTDnxzQF_MMJMRIvV9KdZFH5X03C4KsuozJTShTKHr5yY-aWyiq8oINm96cA5XdIbsoyNlNDNd8E3bVRjlTYjRKneyMWN7vR6tqqJJCzlmG9gAICSL/s320/scan0013--cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About 15 yo... <i>He was so good to me!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jason’s empathy and kindness allowed him to know what others were going
through, and he found creative ways to uplift and help his friends when
we needed it most. If anyone was sad, he could be counted on to cheer
them up and bring a smile to their face. I was delighted to find him
continue this as an adult; I noticed that he used his blogging as
another creative means to send uplifting messages to friends in their
time of need. And I KNOW he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will continue to bless the lives of others and</i> find great joy in doing so.</div>
<br />
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In addition to the finely tuned character traits mentioned above, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jason always strove to do the right thing</i></b>.
Being a good person was always important to him. When things got hard
and he felt the pressures of teen life on his shoulders, he would tell
me of his struggles, expressing his desire to always do the right thing.
<i>And he always did.</i> Sometimes he wrote me letters about his
righteous desires. When he saw friends begin to sin, it was stressful
for him because he cared so much about his friends, and hoped he would
not make the same mistakes. His determination to do what is right has
always been contagious and inspiring. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I am a better person today because of his example</i></b> and love him for it! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">:D</i></div>
<br />
I found in my pile of old letters from Jason a poem titled “The Measure
of Man.” I smiled as I read it, and then cried like a baby as I thought
of how appropriate it was that I stored it with his letters. I’d like to
leave you this poem; <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">along with the hope that the reflection of Jason’s life will leave us all inspired to stand a little taller…</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Measure of Man</span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">Not – “How did he die?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">But – “How did he live?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">Not – “What did he gain?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">But – “What did he give?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">These are the units to measure the worth</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">Of a man, as a man, regardless of birth.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">Not – “What was his station?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">But – “Had he a heart?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">And – “How did he play his God-given part?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">Was he ever ready with a word of good cheer?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">Not – “What was his church?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">Nor – “What was his creed?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">But – “Had he befriended those really in need?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">Not – “What did the sketch in the newspaper say?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But – <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“How many were sorry when he passed away?”</b></span></span></i></div>
<br />
I know there are masses weeping over the temporary loss of the presence of Jason Frederick Zimmerman. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">All who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know </i>him <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love and respect him</i>.</b>
I know I speak for many in saying that we sincerely thank our Father in
Heaven for Jason's continued existence and the profound, eternal
influence for good that he continues to have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on so many.</i> <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i><b>Thank you Jason, for your legacy of seeing and bringing out
the beautiful… not only through photographs, but especially in people.</b></i> I hope you are blessed to read this from above. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Know that you are dearly loved by many and continue to have a profound impact for good…</i> Know that in our book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you measure very tall. :</i>) Know that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we love you</i></b>, and that some will cease to fear death, knowing that you will be on the other side to greet them when they arrive. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Thank you for being you</b>. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We love you Jason Frederick Zimmerman!!!</i></b></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-34820162092913644552012-08-21T08:30:00.000-06:002012-08-21T08:43:34.090-06:00From Gerb<br />
Today is the day I planned to post something about my dear friend Jason. I have tried over and over to compose something that would do him justice, but the words never come out just right. For now, it will have to be enough to say that my heart is heavy when I think of his absence from this life. I miss him, as I know many of you do, too, and the world will never be quite the same without him.<br />
<br />
I thought it would be fitting to instead re-post an entry from <a href="http://teachinfourth.blogspot.com/" style="color: blue;">his blog</a> which he wrote on January 21, 2009. The photos are beautiful and the words are a message to each of us, even today.<br />
<br />
It has always been one of my favorites. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg096ubGTf_r2LF3ZuNHUKecjmmKMmZyDVyWUFrjv1licp8jS-bpq63j1Tm82WM0KjDFe6-saY5LubHgsb3mBKSAvKUT7X7ezG_qrvM7orV0Vop-qXLjO5X_b6b7J0BjGroiUL3lp_VQ7c/s1600-h/002.jpg"></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VUuDb45QTutzd-4VtwEszb9S1ozDc7qAAEVETNgXEQjvvn7v7yY9-xk9HkM4uTC15BgjCBuqypswn56JzLVx_FAyC8RDO1CfD_LwthGBf67nXdZA93uKxnrPJLJAswPDTiKuBJfOArk/s1600-h/010.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293961870204876802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VUuDb45QTutzd-4VtwEszb9S1ozDc7qAAEVETNgXEQjvvn7v7yY9-xk9HkM4uTC15BgjCBuqypswn56JzLVx_FAyC8RDO1CfD_LwthGBf67nXdZA93uKxnrPJLJAswPDTiKuBJfOArk/s640/010.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /> </a><br />
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Jason, my friend, you are and will continue to be so very missed. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>"Don't be dismayed by good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can
meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain
for those who are friends."
---Richard Bach </i>
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<br />Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-22844276177464730942012-08-20T06:00:00.000-06:002012-08-24T23:51:23.341-06:00Our Friend, Jason<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvl433RbxP_LgIDhL3bNjXN-36w7a_2uKZXCjzUkZKWqAUc0MlnAQbr4DvGPCKMt-Devo9Pv4R2_L1kwsj0l2WdcR3ZGA_6DqeewwT-mjNIMzGCVecs4i6giw65tUtw1Dh4vxW2R9uPI_X/s1600/jason.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvl433RbxP_LgIDhL3bNjXN-36w7a_2uKZXCjzUkZKWqAUc0MlnAQbr4DvGPCKMt-Devo9Pv4R2_L1kwsj0l2WdcR3ZGA_6DqeewwT-mjNIMzGCVecs4i6giw65tUtw1Dh4vxW2R9uPI_X/s320/jason.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Jason Fredrick Zimmerman was born September 9, 1970
in San Francisco, CA, to George D. Zimmerman and Kathleen Scott. He died
at the age of 41, Saturday morning, August 11, 2012, at his father’s
home in Sandpoint, ID. </div>
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Some of you will recognize his name. Maybe he was a childhood friend, a
high-school crush, a college roommate, peer, or fellow teacher. Maybe he
was your teacher.<br />
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Others, for whom this name does not bring immediate recognition or a
flood of memories, will likely move on—possibly not even making it as
far as this sentence. But to those of us who knew him, he was a phenomenal teacher, an inspiring mentor, a worthy and idolized role
model, an adventerous travel companion. He was a champion of students. A
brother. A friend.<br />
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He grew up in the Northwest, served a mission for the Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints in St. Louis, Missiouri; and, in 2000, he
graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in Elementary
Education. He was the first in his family to complete college.<br />
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In the 12 years since graduating from BYU, he taught 3rd, 4th, 5th, and
6th grades in the Provo School District, worked countless volunteer
hours in after-school and out-of-the-classroom programs, graduated with a
Master Degree in Technology, and received numerous awards honoring his
ability and passion for teaching.<br />
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He fostered a comfortable learning environment where students felt good
about themselves, were motivated to succeed, gained an appreciation for
hard work, were inspired to learn—and had fun doing it. Teaching,
nurturing and encouraging were his passion.<br />
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Jason was an avid and talented photographer. His ability to both see and
capture the beauty around him with his camera was only matched by his
inherent knack for doing the same with the people he met. <br />
The lonely deserts of southern Utah and forgotten back roads of nowhere
were his safe haven. He documented his adventures in photography and
poetic prose—much of which he would post for the world to see and read
on his blog.<br />
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As a teacher and mentor, Jason taught us to see no limits to our
potential. As a friend, he loved unconditionally. His influence will
forever be felt in the lives of those who are better, wiser and kinder
for having known him.<br />
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Jason was preceded in death by a younger brother, Simon, who died at
birth July 1, 1988. And by his mother, Arlene Zimmerman, who died at the
age of 64 after a long battle to cancer only three years ago last
month.<br />
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He is survived by his father George Zimmerman and his wife; his mother
Kathleen Roesler and her husband; and his siblings Shawna Gregg, Yancy
Zimmerman, Miya Edwards, and Lucie Zimmerman.<br />
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<b>This beautiful tribute was written by his brother, Yancy.</b><br />
<h6 style="font-weight: normal;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">A memorial for our friend Jason (known in blogland as Teachinfourth) will take place on Saturday, August 25th at 10
a.m. The service will be held at 1745 South State Street, Provo, UT
84606 and is open to all friends, teachers, students, family and others who would like to share in a celebration of his life.</span></i></h6>
Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-6406876309807137512012-08-08T08:00:00.000-06:002012-08-08T08:00:10.541-06:00Sunshine & Wookiee the Chew<br />
I love art, in all of its forms. I love
watercolor paintings, sidewalk chalk art, magnificent sculptures, famous
pieces found in galleries, crayon drawings by my kids, and photography
that captures the beauty in the world. In trying to decide what would be
my favorite, I couldn't narrow it down to just one. So I decided
instead to share with you my current favorite prints - the ones I plan
to have on some walls eventually.<br />
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The first one that comes to mind is this print that I found online awhile back.<br />
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<a href="http://files.myopera.com/intothedeep/blog/sunshine-for-a-m.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="http://files.myopera.com/intothedeep/blog/sunshine-for-a-m.jpg" border="0" src="http://files.myopera.com/intothedeep/blog/sunshine-for-a-m.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><a href="http://files.myopera.com/intothedeep/blog/sunshine-for-a-m.jpg" style="color: blue;">Here</a> is one place you can find it. </i></span></div>
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I personally call it <i>Let the Sunshine In</i>
but I don't know who created it, where it came from originally or what
it's really titled. I've done a bit of internet surfing to find where I
could purchase this print but I can only find it on blogs and no one
gives credit to the original creator. Can you see why I love it,
though? Just looking at the picture makes me happy. The girl in the
picture is who I want to be, all the time. Just basking in the sunlight
that life has to offer. And on my days when I'm not feeling sunshiny, I
try to be like her, anyway. <br />
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My other favorite prints (yes, there are more than one) are by an artist named <a href="http://www.jameshance.com/" style="color: blue;">James Hance</a>.
Take the timelessness of Winnie the Pooh and combine it with the
awesomeness of Star Wars and what do you have? A fantastically
brilliant series of art prints which he cleverly titles based on a story
he calls <a href="http://www.jameshance.com/wookiee-the-chew.html" style="color: blue;"><i>Wookiee the Chew</i></a><span style="color: blue;">. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.jameshance.co.uk/image/data/WTC-A_Biped_And_His_Boy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" id="il_fi" src="http://www.jameshance.co.uk/image/data/WTC-A_Biped_And_His_Boy.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>print found <a href="http://www.jameshance.co.uk/wtc-016-a-biped-and-his-boy-wookiee-the-chew" style="color: blue;">here</a></i></span></div>
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Actually, I would be happy to have <a href="http://www.jameshance.com/prints.html%20" style="color: blue;"><i>any</i> of his prints</a><span style="color: blue;"> </span>adorning
the walls of my home. They are clever, adorable and amazingly
affordable. It's simply a matter of planning on my part to make things
happen. <br />
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What kind of art tickles your fancy?Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995141851588869087.post-63976027564599086802012-08-07T07:00:00.000-06:002012-08-07T07:00:05.521-06:00Red, White, & Blue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJnnOOAUSyQrzuqC3O6uA-aCi-PkIRP5jdHWhcHdYf0MPhCmJRPDMAkMckqcNHQllAd40paCcfHk47IBzmXMIawO5sFXOv2221aIUvW3m-Kq8xQnm3vzGrKWF8EpHRZOcvYMTVH4ltpo/s1600/FlagWEB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJnnOOAUSyQrzuqC3O6uA-aCi-PkIRP5jdHWhcHdYf0MPhCmJRPDMAkMckqcNHQllAd40paCcfHk47IBzmXMIawO5sFXOv2221aIUvW3m-Kq8xQnm3vzGrKWF8EpHRZOcvYMTVH4ltpo/s640/FlagWEB.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I stood inside the gallery looking at the varied pieces of art:
sculptures, drawings, and paintings – as well as other expressions of
amazing talent and skill. I roved quietly from piece to piece until I
arrived downstairs and the red, white, and blue canvas caught my eye
like a smorgasbord for the senses.<br />
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I was captivated.<br />
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I stood in awe.<br />
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I was speechless…<br />Gerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13103247512887532095noreply@blogger.com2