I am lying in a hammock at a place where memories are made. While lying here I can hear shrieks and squeals from the kids although they might just as well be from the woman I have been married to for close to 49 years. In the meadow behind me there is a small pond with frogs, salamanders and tadpoles. Janene has taken the kids up there while the fishing is slow and they are all slogging around in the muck. They will come back with leeches and rock rollers and mosquito bites, but they are all insanely happy.

The first time I came here I was following my father through the trees. We had just parked the car on a dirt road away from the logging trucks. The area had just been clear cut and we had passed sign after sign saying things like "These trees were cut in 1951" and "They will grow back" or something pretty close to that. My dad said we were going fishing but all I can see is tree stumps as far as the eye can see. Dad says he knows where he is going, but we just keep climbing the hill. Then suddenly we are going downhill through a beautiful meadow with frogs, salamanders and tadpoles -  and trees. Then I see it. There is a beautiful lake with pine covered islands and a view of the mountains beyond.

This must be heaven I think to myself. I have heard my grandpa call it God's country so this must be heaven. My dad opens up the tackle box and I hear some muttering and exclamations as Dad realizes that we don't have any flies with us. Even I know that you can't catch fish without flies, but Dad comes up with the idea to take our peanut butter sandwiches and put the peanut butter on treble hooks and try to fish that way. It doesn't work and I don't think we caught any fish, but that doesn't matter. My Dad just brought me to heaven.

Today I just followed the same route, not a trail, to this location with grandkids in tow. It has been 60 years since that first day and I know every rock and tree stump along the way including the arched rock crossing the brook we call the troll bridge. And I am remembering all the times we have been here over the years with our kids, their kids and with my parents.

My dad taught me how to cast a line out to the channel in this lake where the fish are. I taught my kids how to do the same and now they do it better than me. Our family has come here for years, my brother, my sisters, even my Mom loved to come here in her later years when her health improved.

We almost always fish from the exact same spot. It has the crazy dead tree that eats up fishing tackle.

It was 1968. The Summer of Love. President Johnson had just announced he would not seek another term in office and there was excitement about a new direction for the country. Then Martin Luther King Jr. was killed, dashing the hopes for black equality. My favorite candidate for president, Robert Kennedy was gunned down the day before my 15th birthday. There were riots in the streets. The National Guard had fired into a crowd of demonstrators in Ohio, killing some and injuring others. It was a scary time for America.

But I had just turned 15 and had my whole life planned out. I was going to be a geologist. Though still in junior high, I had enrolled in a summer science class at Bountiful High that promised to take me on geology field trips where I would learn all about fossils, minerals, and- just maybe - I could find my own dinosaur. I was such a geek.
Part of my plan was to earn enough money to pay for my own schooling so I got a real job. I was bussing tables and washing dishes at Francesco's. I was making a whopping $1.10 an hour. If I worked enough hours, I was able to buy my own clothes at Keith O'Brien's and was able to pay for the summer science class.

There it was. I opened the paper to find news of our community and there it was. That was my headstone featured in the article on Memorial Day. Of course, I never think of it as "my" headstone. This is always referred to as David's headstone or David's grave. But there it was. Big. Bold. "PHIILIPS". The only name you could really read on the headstone was mine. The flowers obscured Janene's name, thankfully, and David's name is in the shadow. It was unsettling to say the least.

We had just spent the weekend visiting the graves of people we know and love. There was David's for sure, but we also walked a hundred feet over to my Mom's grave to place a flag similar to David's. My name is on that headstone also. I shiver every time I see that. Next to my headstone is Janene's Mom and Dad's. We spent a lot of time this last year making sure everything is right with that one. Janene's name is on that one too. We, with some of our grandkids visited other graves nearby. My grandfather and grandmother's are close. So is grandma's parent's headstone and their parent's. And their parent's. The boy who lived next door. The neighbor down the street who just took up occupancy in this little subset of Bountiful residents who now reside in a new subdivision where nobody plays their music too loud, the kids don't ride the streets, and no one talks to anyone on their front porches.

I think to myself that I do not look forward to moving there anytime soon. I like talking to my neighbors. I like the sound of kid's laughter wafting through the neighborhood. I am even OK with the noisy neighbors and their teenage pool party kids and the barking dogs. Certainly I know that this is not where I will really live after this life, but I still don't look forward to spending too much time in this particular Bountiful neighborhood with my name carved onto the stone rooftop - with newspaper photographers snapping pictures of my newfound home.

All my life, I have wondered what this day would be like. When I was young, it was just some far off crazy thought. As the days have come closer, the thought has been more like a dream - the kind where you laugh and say "Yeah! Right. That will be the day" Now suddenly it is here. It happened a couple of days ago. No more getting up every day and going to work, calling on customers and preparing bid proposals. No more company car allowance. No more paychecks!!!! Yep That is what it is like to be retired.
The folks at work threw a party where everyone in the company got a a half day off to have BBQ and listen to people talk about me. Andy Harris will be taking my place - Man does he look young or what?

The boss made fun of my golf skills, which is fine; they don't pay me the big bucks because I am a good golfer. The President of our 800 employee company flew into town for the event as well as the Chief Financial Officer and the Head of Human Resources. And the company even gave me a gift certificate towards a really expensive new camera. I was so scared that it was going to be a set of golf clubs, or worse yet, a gold watch.

One of the most touching parts was when Kirk Kirkland got up to say how much he appreciated the time we had worked together. I hired Kirk 34 years ago when I started my own company. We have had good times and some rough times over the years, but it was good to see Kirk only remembering the good times.
Pipe fittings, fire extinguishers and family all in one place. I am so grateful that the family was invited to attend and so glad they could share this day with me.

Now I have to figure out what we are going to do with my life. I will miss the guys at work and I will miss my interactions with my customers, but I think that this is what I worked my whole life for in the first place. To be able to get to a place where I have provided for my family and now have enough left over for Janene and me - that was the whole plan. I am nervous and a little bit anxious, but I do think that I am standing on the edge of a dream - a good dream.

 Three days ago I woke up at 2:30 AM with a profound and suffocating sadness having had a dream about David. I was reliving the morning twenty years ago when I got up at 2:30 AM to cook breakfast omelettes for all the scouts in our troop and their leaders. I think of David every day of my life but I don't often dream about him. After I woke, I was unable to overcome the sadness and lay in bed until morning thinking about that day.
 After he and the other boys had left that morning, I went up to his bedroom and just sat on his bed. I received a small prompting that maybe this wasn't such a good idea and that I may never see David again, but I brushed it off thinking that this was the first  Scout campout in five years that I wouldn't be going with him. If I could change one thing in my life, it would be to act on that prompting and bring the boys back home.
 I didn't of course, and three days later a policeman would knock on our door and tell Janene that he had died and was never coming home again. Our Dave died alone, without us, twenty years ago today.
He is such a happy young man and the contrast of him being gone left me feeling sorrow and despair all morning after I awoke. I was still much affected at work. I have adapted a computer program at work to display key scriptures and quotes from church and other religious leaders every time I open the program. These messages are displayed literally dozens of times each day.

One of those messages explained how deeply our Father in Heaven loves us, and I was overwhelmed by the love that our Father in Heaven must have for me, and for all of us. He knew what was ahead for His Only Begotten, yet He sent him to this world to atone for our sins, to suffer and die at the hands of wicked and hateful men, and ultimately be crucified by them. He sent His Son anyway because of the love He has for us. He knew there was no other way for us to be able to be with Him again.

I am so grateful for a loving Father who allowed His Only Begotten Son to go through this for me. I am just as grateful for His Son, Jesus Christ. He loves me - and you, just as much as the Father. He trusted in His Father's plan and was courageous and valiant in working out this plan and our salvation. This great gift allows us to be reunited with those we love who have gone on from this life. I am so grateful to understand this plan of salvation and to know that I will be able to be with this wonderful boy again. Every time I think of him I feel a twinge of sadness. Sometimes it is worse than at other times, but I always remember with great joy that we will be reunited again because of the great sacrifice of our loving Savior.

I ran across this picture the other day. I thought, "Wouldn't it be fun to go for a hike with the grandkids?" We worked in the yard yesterday in our shirtsleeves; it almost seemed like winter was over, spring had sprung, and you could hear the birds singing. When Brooke and her family came over this afternoon, we looked out to see a blizzard coming in with them. So much for that nice thought!

Have you ever wanted to see how my lovely bride makes one of her signature items of pottery?


It all starts out with a measured amount of mud. She uses the same amount every time and centers it on the wheel. I have heard this is the hardest part to get right.

 Next, she has to flatten it out so the base is the right width. She doesn't use a measuring tool, she just eye-balls it.

 Then she has to open up the middle and leave a flat spot at the bottom that is not too thick, and not too thin, but is just right.

 She pulls up a cylinder that has uniform thickness and somehow knows just how high to go. Maybe she runs out of mud somewhere along the way.

 Now, she is starting to close in the top.

 There it is! All closed off and rounded over. There was some hocus-pocus going on because I looked at my viewfinder and Voila! It was closed off and I didn't see how she did it.

 The magic continues as she rounds it over to the perfect shape

 This is where I would put two grooves in it and call it an ashtray.
 She puts a whole lot of grooves in it.

 And calls it a Beehive Honey Pot!. The top part will become the lid and will fit down inside the base. She does some other magic with glazes and a hole for the honey dipper. I will show you the completed project when it is out of the oven. Our honeybees will be so proud of her!

Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?

I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains

I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways

I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests

I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans

I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard

                                                               Bob Dylan

I wonder if Dylan was singin' about this blue-eyed son. Our little herd of deer has an albino buck in it. I have never seen it, but Milt has seen it several times and has a picture of it. We are pretty sure that this yearling is one of his offspring. Janene has seen this guy a bunch of times and finally got a picture of him. This picture was taken on a cloudy day. Janene says that on a clear day with the sunlight in his eyes, they are a brilliant blue. It is a little unnerving when he stares you down.

Will wonders never cease?

This has been an amazing week for babies in our family. Doug brought his grandson, Camden over for a visit with "great grandpa Robin". He was only there to see " Grandma Janene". She is not as old as me.

He came over with his mom, Tiffany and Grandpa Doug. This little guy came much too early and had to spend some extra time in the hospital, but he is a chunky guy now.

 We got to pass him back and forth for a while. All the time, he was the perfect little boy. He laughed at us old people, smiled at our stupid jokes and didn't get into any trouble the whole time he was here. He really did prefer his own mother, however.

 On Sunday, it was off to the races with our little red-heads. They had a great time racing the electric car back and forth (and down the stairs). Little Rachel Robin is getting close to turning two and coming out of her shyness now. It is so much fun to watch her grow up. It wasn't that long ago that she was the little baby in the family.
I had to get another picture of our newest, baby Jessie in the mix. I must take after my father. We both love to hold the little babies. Happy times over here right now. Life is sure great!

I got home from work to find the house deserted, no dinner in the oven, and no sign of my bride. Then came the text - "Congratulations, Grandpa! You have a new little girl!" I jumped in the car and headed for the hospital.

 The little tyke was not so little, pegging the scales at 8 lbs. 3oz.. Getting to see her born was a joy that Janene was able to have one more time. For Grandpa, it was a thrill to be there before she was even an hour old. Heather's friend, Crystal was there to enjoy and photograph the big event.
 After nursing, Jesse was ready for her first little nap when Grandma took her. There is nothing like the experience of being able to hold a little girl in your arms when just a few minutes before, she was just a lump in your daughter's belly.
 The perfect Dad and perfect Mom with a perfect little baby girl. (I hope it doesn't sound like I am bragging) Every time I witness this miracle, I am humbled to think that God actually trusts us with His children. I cried as I left the hospital knowing that we have seen one more sign of His love for us.

 Ever since our kids were young, we have come to this place. It probably started with my parents, or possibly even with Mom's parents. We have picked peaches in the orchards, We have hunted Easter eggs in the campground, we have weathered bitter cold, hot summer sun and suffered through intense sandstorms. After all of that, we keep coming back.
 Oftentimes we hike the same old trails, showing off things we have discovered before to a new and older batch of children. Half of the fun has been watching as the new ones discover the same places their older siblings found years ago.
 We hike with kids who just want to go back to camp and play in the grass, and others who want to see what lurks around the next boulder. We find polliwogs in desert cisterns, ants that can carry huge beetles over long distances, and watch as the bats come out at night.
 Through it all, we share tender times with our little ones. We laugh and sometimes we cry a little.
 This year some of the family explored the place where our daughters got stuck inside a dry "tank" the water had carved in a canyon above Hickman Bridge. As the older  and wiser parents saw where the girls were trapped, they found out just how negligent we their parents really were. Heather said it scared her. I wondered which was scarier; looking at where they had gotten stuck, or realizing that we let them get to that place on their own.
 Every time we go, the kids find places to hide in the rocks.  And every year we take their pictures in their hidden places
 Nathan was a little stressed out in the narrow canyons for some reason, but still enjoyed exploring.
 We found a great place for the kids to play under a double natural bridge that I don't remember being there on other trips. Maybe we weren't observant enough then.
 We got to watch some great sunsets and grand vistas, the best of all was the time we were able to spend together playing  and goofing off.
 But soon it was time to say good-bye and come back to the dreary world of work and school and all the other stuff we do.
But as we left, we had a new store of memories to cherish for years to come. Something we will remember for the rest of our lives.