I am a victim of bullying.

I do not own this picture

I was reading a story tonight about another young man robbed of his future because of bullying, he killed himself as a result of the relentless torture he has endured. In seventh grade one of the students in my homeroom class was bullied pretty heard, compounded by some depression, Chad, his name was Chad, chose to kill himself, and that has always affected me.  I was bullied from 7th – 9th grade by a student and in 9th grade I took care of it; the bullying ended, bullying rarely ends this way.

My heart brakes, especially when people continue to say things about the bullied such as he/she needs to toughen up, it builds character, endurance and strength... or the bullied were just a pussy cat.  That is an awful cop out. We ARE created equal in value and purpose to our father in heaven, Matthew 25:40 40 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. But we are all unequal in strength, circumstances, privilege, culture, health, wealth, and so on.

I have raised my children never to engage in, tolerate, or condone any bullying, in fact, going as far as telling them that I would rather be called to the principal’s office or the police station because you stood up for yourself or someone else, than to allow, or witness bullying go unchecked without intervening.

I do not own this picture

There may be two kinds of reactions from my post, those that think I am a pussy cat and completely disagree with me, and those who do agree with me and stand against bullying. If you are a bully or have been in the past get on your knees and pray for humility and forgiveness. If you are a victim get on your knees and pray for strength and courage, the bullied and the bully, are both loved by our Father in Heaven.

For nearly 20 years I worked as an EMT and I saw the horrifying results of bullying and the toll it takes on the human spirit. Bullying often leads to more bullying, drug and alcohol abuse, eating disorders, depression and the worst of all suicide. All of which wreaks havoc on the soul, and family.

I too am a victim of every adolescent and teenager (and even adults) that suffered from bullying, who I cared for in my capacity as an emergency service provider. As a first-hand witness of children killing themselves, by hangings, drug overdoses, self-inflicted gunshot wounds, and so on; I can assure you that there is always, ALWAY left in the wake of the victims--a trail of broken hearts, what-ifs, ands, and buts.

That is my soap box for the night, please love your children and talk to them, Bullying is a learned behavior, discourage it, and count it as a disgraceful and despicable sin, never excused or condoned.

BYU legend and NBA athlete Jimmer Fredette is leading a valiant fight and doing some good in the fight against bullying. Please check out his facebook page here https://www.facebook.com/fredettefamilyfoundation/?fref=nf

Goodnight,  

A Rambling Update

I recognize that I have been absent from my blog, and it was my intention to stay current with it as a way to vent frustrations, fix my need to write or tell stories, as well as an outlet to express my feelings and opinions on a lot of issues, however, life got real for a while…

UPDATE

My last post, Trin had just had surgery, she was doing well and a month after her original successful surgery she had a major setback that required another surgery. She has been a real trooper through all of it, so has her husband and kids. Trin has suffered so much, through this ordeal and has been so kind and humble through the entire situation. 

Two weeks after her second surgery I had a 40th birthday, celebrated by my friends, who scooping us up and hauled my wife kids and me to LasVegas for a week; we had a blast. We could never have afforded this trip, and their kindness and surprise was overwhelming. I could not fully experience the “vacation because I was enrolled in classes for the summer semester and the workload and homework were kind of brutal, but I did well. 

We needed income and I tried feverishly to find work that would accommodate a school schedule, for both my children and I, the care of my wife, and my callings in church without much luck. As the summer drew to an end and I finished my summer semester Trin’s condition began to worsen once again, resulting in another evaluation of her back of which identified a need, now, for a third back surgery in six-month period. 

Treat gets a treat in her recovery bed and
the pets come out of the woodwork

Her doctors and his staff tried several less invasive procedures with little to no positive effect, and the decision for an anterior access spinal fusion was made (look it up). The timing could not have been worse; this decision was right on the heels of a worsening condition in my shoulder that was in need of "cleaning". My shoulder procedure was something that was only going to be a minor clean up and inspection. I awoke from surgery to the news that I had a torn labrum, rotator cuff, bicep tendon, and a nearly fused A/C joint (look it up). My surgery occurring on Monday which was followed by my wife’s surgery on Friday of the same week. 

My view of my PUMA TED hose
and my nephew Boden

I was set to start a new job in December, that I was no longer able to start because of the worse than expected shoulder problems. Through this time, we had received a lot of help from friends, family, the government, and or church. We would have never survived the last year without the unified help of charity-- whatever its source. 

This really has been I hope the tail end of a real rough ride going back to 2008, of which I have mentioned in previous posts. But my prospective employer has held my position until the end of this month when it is projected I can resume normal activities.

         I am a Junior at Weber State university working my butt off in school to get great grades and caring a load of 36-40 credits per year in social science.  I will not lie this whole time has been a trying experience for me, and I recognize my responsibilities in our situation, but I can truly stand before God and answer that I have tried to provide every need to my wife and children. I, through this, have had some real low times with the idea that I was not a true provider or a drag on society, but in reality, I am not embarrassed by our predicament; I am encouraged because the Lord still trusts me enough with some of his most prized creations to allow me stewardship over them, and continue his refining process to harden my blade.

My father, grandfathers, uncles, and brothers are all very hard working men, they have given me the example to follow, they were not without their trials and failures but they always got back up dusted themselves off and kept on keeping on.  I was looking for the hero to come and save the day, all the while he was in the mirror, I don’t feel like it but an out-of-the-blue letter from my daughter confirmed that I am still awesome.

God will bless us and bless you. I recognize his hands in our endurance, opportunity, progress, and further, “for it is his treasure I seek, his approval, his blessing, and guidance, Luke 12:16–34 “…where the treasure is, there is the heart”.  

How a dream saved a life.

              Yesterday my daughter went to the Ogden Utah temple, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, to do baptisms. This was her first time being able to do so. My daughter is London`addelyne and she is a beautiful young woman, she looks a lot like her mother who is also striking. 

              I posted this picture on Facebook which garnered a response from a friend and former coworker Chree, her comment triggered a memory of my little girl in a really big pickle.

              We lived in West Valley City, Utah a suburb of Salt Lake City. We had a modest ranch style home in the neighborhood where my wife and I both grew up, in fact, we bought the house right behind the house I grew up in.  We tried to have children for a few years and struggled, but after a while Trin became pregnant. We were so excited to be parents and terrified at the same time, what a huge responsibility.  A couple months into the pregnancy we lost that child to a spontaneous miscarriage, a devastating blow, to say the least, I will spare you all the drama that went along with that involving, her geriatric heartless OBGYN.

               After some time to heal our hearts, and prepare to try again for another pregnancy my father passed away, Ken Pentico was an amazing dad, grandpa and great-grandpa, his passing hurt as well, obviously, but not as much as you might think. Our dad had been sick for a real long time, he had built a good life of eternal riches, worked heard and passed on amazing traits of selflessness, love, devotion, hard work and faith, and we knew that he was on to bigger and better things.

              About 6 weeks after my father's passing we learned that Trin was again prego, and with that came the excitement and terror. We kept her pregnancy quiet as long as possible, as to avoid the awkward "How is the baby coming along" comments we endured for weeks after the first miscarriage. We had made it a few months and our new OBGYN, who was awesome and came highly recommended, had told us that things were moving along nicely and there should be no reason that this child should not make it full term, so we made our announcement, she would be due in December of 2002.

              Fast forward to about 18 months later London was about 8 -9 months old and with my working  early and long hours on the ambulance sleep was at a premium, and as some parents do, not recommended, we had London sleep with us as to get more sleep or at least a greater quality of sleep. I remember the night like it was yesterday, our bedroom was situated in the front of the home and our bedroom window faced to the south, I liked to leave the curtains open so I could see the moon and stars.

              Trin and I were sound asleep and London in the next room began to fuss, so I went into her room and brought her to bed with us. She immediately went back to sleep, as did I. I do not know how long we were asleep when I woke up to Trin, my wife, holding a limp little girl in her arms asking me to please help, I could see very clearly, because of the moonlight shining through my bedroom  window, that this was not my daughter and that this child was much older than my daughter. I was confused as to what was going on, and then in a voice -- a child's voice, I heard the words "Help me, daddy." Like lightning to my heart, I shot up out of bed and it was then I realized that I had been dreaming. With a short-lived sigh of relief, I looked over at my wife, who was sound asleep, and then my daughter. I immediately realized her lifeless body with nearly black face, lying there next to my wife with bedding around her neck. She was not breathing, and she was very cyanotic. I was a trained emergency medical professional and this caught me way off guard. With a certain level of anxiety I picked up my daughter, all the while calling Trin "TRIN--TRIN WAKE UP!"  I yelled, I unraveled the sheet that was strangling her and as I removed the sheet she took a great big breath and started Crying. Trin by this time had shot up out of bed and turned on the light. I could see London's very pale body with blue face, I was in shock over what had just transpired, London began to breathe normally and had calmed down, quite unlike her parents, then went right back to sleep, needless to say Trin and I did not fare so well--for a while. 

              Later, as London grew older I recognize the little girl my wife was holding in my dream as my daughter about 3 years old and the voice that called out to me as hers from about the same age.

              Changes were made and nothing like that ever happened again. I know that that night God truly spoke to me and because I listened she lives. I often receive answers to my prayers while I sleep, while I am free from the distractions of the world. I am grateful to a loving father in heaven that has blessed me with an amazing gift of life and an amazing family.

              London has grown into such a beautiful young woman, and Trin and I are so proud of her and her choices she has made to follow Christ and perform his labors here on earth for the salvation of others.

I am tired of being married.

The Offspring BB, Buckshot,
and Scatter`fast! 

  For the last seventeen years, I have been married to a great woman, and she has mothered three amazing children that we love with all our hearts. We are sealed in the temple of our lord. In our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints, we believe that when a couple are sealed in the temple of the lord we are husband and wife for eternity, not to be separated at death, also our children are sealed to us as well meaning that we are an eternal family.  
   With that sealing there lies great responsibility and obligation to one another as well as to a God in heaven and a saviour in Jesus Christ that provided a way through his atonement for us to return to him, the father. So it is important that as a couple we work out our differences, and strive to be better at being husbands and wives.  After all, marriage is not just a piece of paper, it is a lifestyle, a culture, a union, a seed to a family, not to be mocked or trifled with. There is no greater commitment to another than that of marriage. 
Obviously I understand the importance of marriage and being a present and helpful husband to a good woman. So why am I so tired of being married? I'll tell you. Because being married is not an easy job. If you are married and it is easy then you are doing it wrong. Marriage is not meant to be easy, it is meant to be a challenge for the rest of your life. Like a great muscle that needs to be exercised or risk losing that muscle to atrophy. 

10 seconds after receiving
 "the drugs!"

   Frankly I am worn out. This last week Trin, my wife which is short for Trinitie, had back surgery. Not an easy ordeal for her, or me or the kids. I -- We rely heavily on the one known as "MOM" and I freely admit my lack of love for the finer points of keeping "house." I do, however, love to serve my bride and our offspring. It is no easy task and when my bride is just one step above paperweight it is difficult. Between the trauma of the surgery and the truly gorked nature of her mental state due to the intoxicating effects of the Oxy and valium, I am maxed out on effort. To be clear here, I am not trying to say "hey look at me" in any way shape or form. I am merely saying that I Love and appreciate what this woman has done for me in the past, of which began on the day she said yes. She has put up with a lot of my shenanigans and turned the other cheek more than should be required. 
 

The kids getting to see their mom
 for the first time after surgery

 I am one week into the care and feeding of my wife and I am tuckered out, I am doing things for her that I never imagined doing for her, and she has made it perfectly clear that she is not a fan of me, or anyone else for that matter, doing too much for her. I would die for her--right here, right now. Our Love is exhausting!  
   So I am saying this, being a present and involved husband and father requires work, sacrifice, and selflessness. Your marriage should be an effort, and effort to build upon it, an effort to make it better than it was yesterday, not in riches and gifts, but in love, and service to one another, and not with the understanding that in any way you are owed anything in return for your kindness and sacrifice. 

Trin and Polly getting some sun
which is a must for proper recovery

   The woman is the greatest creation of our God in heaven. She is majestic, beautiful, full of life and capable of bringing life into this world, human life. No other creature is capable of doing this. Her creativity, wisdom and grace is that of heavenly Gods and dare I say a natural instinct until robbed of that through life here on earth through a multitude of experiences. She is to be guarded and protected, cherished and  revered. I'm in love with my very best friend, more now than I was yesterday and the day before that. I love her leaps and bounds above the level of love I had for her the night before he surgery. 
   We are all busy we all have obligations and responsibilities outside of the home, but the responsibilities in the home should be priority one. So go out and get tired of being married! 

What I want to do when I grow up?

My brothers Beaner(C), Jose(L), and
Eric(R), and me in front

            When I was a small boy of four or five I told my mother that I was going to be a policeman. I had been fed a steady diet of Hill Street Blues, Dragnet, and Chips. In my mother’s defense, she had not intended or allowed me to watch some of those shows, but as a result of my being sneaky I was thus fed.

            As I matured into a young adult I had my trials and some of which I failed. Lucky for me, I escaped my teen years free from convictions and or death. I had always intended to be a police officer, but struggled with my weight, and that posed its own unique set of problems. So I looked into alternatives, mostly because of the age requirements to be a police officer, but also a means of getting my “fix,” if you will, for adrenalin and excitement. Right after graduation from high school I registered for an EMT class and began classes immediately. This was a way to a means. I figured I would get my foot in the door, and give me a few points up on the competition.

            My time spent in EMS was supposed to only last a couple years and pave the way for a long career in law enforcement. This little stint took twenty years before fate would change all that. I loved my interactions with law enforcement. I have always had an affinity for police and law enforcement, and in my eyes they could do no wrong.

            Throughout my career in EMS I was directly involved in the very worst of human nature, from shootings, and stabbings, to assaults, fatal accidents, and suicides of every shape and form; in a small way, I too was a victim of these crimes. I could go on for pages and pages with war stories, but that’s not my intent. I have prefaced a small part as to why I am here in your class today. I am also a fan of history and its mystery’s, and to be completely honest TV has had a significant influence into my wanting to be in law enforcement. But my opinion about being a beat cop has ebbed and flowed with my age, current job, and probably the weather and the direction of the wind. Never do I feel more desire to be a police officer than when I hear about the loss of one of our finest in the line of duty.

            I thought that when I went back to school I was going to get into forensics, or maybe Crime scene investigations, but as I have taken more classes and read more and more about the current state of the law enforcement community and the apparent attack on them, not to mention, the current state of the criminal justice profession as a whole, I am kind of confused as to what I want to do next. 

-Me in 30 Job interview-

            I am a good leader and willing to do so, I am also teachable and willing to learn new and interesting ways to bless the lives of those I interact with. As I sit through lecture, I have learned about the inequality in the criminal justice world. I have since begun to wonder how I could be an asset to the people, I wish to serve and protect, but in what capacity? Is it as a law enforcement administrator? Is it as a beat cop who really has the desire in his heart to help people? Is it a politician with integrity and a willingness to make the hard decisions, to clear up problems with minimum mandatories, racial inequality, and protection of current constitutional rights? Am I to be a fresh set of eyes to look into old cases and solve old crimes? Am I to free innocent men and women for crimes they had not committed, or an attorney who fights heard to bring about justice?  I really do not know, not today!

            But if I was to pick my dream job, I would have to blend a combination of history and mystery. I have considered my experience in EMS and its relevance to human anatomy, mechanism of injury as well as a wide array of experience in all sorts of crimes against humans by other humans. I have received, over the years, a multitude of training in crime scene preservation, mechanics, as well as extensive training and experience in customer service which lends itself to situations where I can interact with others quite well.  That said I would love to bring closure to families of unsolved crimes, either as a civil servant or as a private investigator.  So as far as the actual direction I am going to go with my future career in Criminal Justice I am in no way sure. I thought I would take a look at a few different disciplines under the criminal Justice umbrella.

-One of a thousand call's I think about-

            This thought process and interest go back to a call my partner Brad, and I went on as EMT's on December 9th, 1996, when Lisa Redmond a 36-year-old married mother of two who was murdered. She was a pizza delivery driver for Pizza Hut. At about 2130-2145 she made her last delivery and was never seen alive again. About 2200 hours my partner and I received the call to respond on a possible auto-pedestrian. It was in an area where there was really no reason for someone to be walking (at the time it was in the middle of nowhere, today it is heavily developed).

            My partner and I arrived and made contact with Mrs. Redmond, she was in the middle of the road in clothing inappropriate for the weather, and it was cold as she was underdressed.  As I began my head to toe assessment of Mrs. Redmond and started life-saving actions, I found evidence that would indicate Mrs. Redmond was a victim of homicide and not just an auto-pedestrian; although evidence would indicate she had also been run over by he own truck. I was heartbroken for this family and have pondered and thought a lot about them over the years.  I have dreamed about solving this crime, I have often thought about this woman and her family, unfortunately, her husband was killed in a car accident in June 1999, her kids live with grandparents in Colorado.

            According to the Utah attorney general’s office there are over 80 unsolved homicides  in Utah going back to the 50’s and 60’s. I know that there are many more homicides prior to those records, but the amount of time passed and evidence available would make them impossible to solve. Even with that reality I am intrigued by the proposition of solving historical crimes and giving these lost victims a voice, whether through justice or word. 

Family Values....

 It is no secret to any society that a person has a serious advantage in life if they are the product of a loving and supportive home. Of course, one can still succeed with less than an ideal home life. It nevertheless remains true that a stable family life helps us and teaches life’s lessons at home. “Family values” can arm one with the armor to venture out on life’s great journey.

This post will consider the words “family” and “values”, individual words with very unique and different definitions. Like many other words we use every day, these words joined together as a team signifies meaningful and powerful dynamic too often overlooked in today’s world

  Before we look at “family values” as two words joined together, it would be instructive to consider them separately. The definitions of “family” around the world, are for the most part, the same, meaning a group of people that are joined together in purpose, or by race, or beliefs, but most commonly by ancestry, blood, and marriage. Family is derived from the Latin term famulus meaning servant, evolving into the word familia meaning household servant or household family, and then the literal translation into English as the family.

The word “value” has a unique and specific definition and carries with it an inherent, all things being relative, definition. What this means is, although the definition is the same, the level and substance of value varies greatly; consider the idiom “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”.  To define “value” is the usefulness or worth of (something or someone). The word “value” comes from the Latin word Valeo meaning “I am worth” which translated into old French as valoir meaning “be worth”, which translates to value in old English

My family is not just blood and marriage but also my closest friends. As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints,(mormon.org) Mormons, the meaning of family is broad. Mormons believe that all human beings ever born or that are to be born are the literal spirit children of a loving Father in Heaven, thus we are all brothers and sisters, a spiritual family. This is not a belief unique to Mormons. This feeling or line of belief can be found in tribes, clans, races, and all sorts of different groups of people all around the world and throughout history. We as human beings find the ability to relate to one another, rather it be sharing the same hometown, high school, favorite sports teams, or brand of car or soda pop, we all have micro, and macrofamilies. 

           "Value" is relative to the user of the word.  One’s placing a value on one thing may not translate to another, thus "value" is as unique as the user of the word. There are millions of tradesmen in this world, all with a set of skills that may or may not translate to the other. Their uniqueness is what gives greater value as a whole to their societies. As children, my parents taught my siblings and myself the value of a dollar, hard work, tools, transportation, books, shoes, clothing, heat, food, and shelter. We were taught how difficult it was to get some of those things and thus a priority was placed on the value of each. Priorities were established in our home just like everyone else’s home, priorities with greatest value or worth came first, dates and movies took a back seat to food and shelter. My father prioritized his children before himself in all matters; to the point his health was often the victim.  As a young father my dad often went years between new pairs of shoes.

       While raising eight boys and a girl all growing at an astonishing rate my father always made it a priority to clothe and feed his children before himself.  In this true example of love, an endearing family value, priority is placed on the value of the children’s needs before the father's own needs or wants. 

       
       The term family values give some people the creeps, believing that society is trying to cram something down their throat. People can be turned off by the term “family values”. In college I read an essay by Katha Pollitt titled “Why I hate Family Values (let me count the ways)”, at the time of her writing, Pollitt a recently divorced mother of a young daughter. Given her experience Pollitt had more than a passing opinion on the matter regarding the world’s view of her values, prompting her to write the above-mentioned essay.  But after study and reflecting on Pollitt’s “hate” one shortly discovers that there are family values in everyone's home they are just defined differently. Pollitt indeed maintains family values what she really describes hating (in my opinion) are the values socially dictated to her.

With this beautiful and amazing life comes and amazing gift we call a free agency. Free to choose, free to do what we want and when we want to do it, but not free to choose the consequences of poor decisions. Placing greater value on the family and its priority for success is again relative. My life is a very good life because of the value or great worth my family places on one another, and the “family values” within our home strengthen that relationship to make us stronger and closer. One of the greatest blessings in our home is that we are all together for dinner. In my home, we were always taught to eat dinner as a family, and today that is practiced in my home as well as those of my siblings. It is of great value to our family and is not to be taken lightly, the best conversations of the day happen around the dinner table.

       David O McKay, a  Mormon prophet, is often  quoted “No success outside  the home can compensate for  failure inside the home”.  Family values are those which  enriches and edify the family  to be as strong and powerful as possible for no man shall be alone. As Adam lie alone in the Garden of Eden and God gave unto him a wife in Eve, that they should be together and a helpmeet for one another that they may multiply and replenish the earth. The family is the most sacred organization on earth and it should be garnished and cherished with the greatest of value and strengthened by the values we hold dear, to protect us from the ever-encroaching world, a world being crammed down my throat and into my life, the never ending battle, striving to be in the world not "of" the world. With our family’s ship anchored in family values, we stand a chance of happiness and success whatever that may be. There is several television commercials produced by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints that I have grown quite fond of regarding the importance of families at the end of each commercial the viewers are asked “Family isn’t it about –time?”

Their Last Words...

It was a beautiful spring morning in April 2001, my partner and I had just finished breakfast, and we were just getting settled in for an early morning nap when the call came in for a house fire and explosion with injuries. As we raced through the morning commuter traffic I made a quick rundown in my mental notebook of what I may encounter or may need to do after I make contact with the patient, but this takes place in just seconds.

 On that particular day I was the patient guy, so Terry, being the driver had stewardship over the radio which meant he chose the music for the day... it was either oldies or –oldies, and that meant that we were singing along to some classic rock tunes while speeding to save this man’s life. It is a form of stress management and confidence enhancement, not too unlike an athlete prepping for a big game.

 My eyes scan the horizon as we get within a couple blocks from the scene.  Looking for smoke, we saw none. At that point, I hear the first arriving fire unit. The fire radio cracked, “Engine and rescue 73 arriving.” Fire Dispatch copied their radio traffic with the current time. Within seconds of arriving, the fire captain asked for our “ETA,” (Estimated Time of Arrival). Terry answered with “we are rolling up now.” We were given instructions as to where the patient was located, and in the same breath, the fire captain told fire dispatch that we needed AirMed (AirMed is an air ambulance stationed out of the University of Utah hospital where one of the nation’s best burn centers is located). My fears had been realized. This was a severe burn.

 Upon making contact with the other medical personnel and our patient. we quickly discovered the patient’s body was covered from head to toe with burns, his clothes and hair had been burned right off his body with exception to one shoe and what I thought to be a tattered painter’s apron, later determined to be his white painter's jeans. We did all we could. Initially, he was able to talk to us and able to communicate to his coworker, but his condition worsened very quickly. We worked feverishly to ease his suffering restore his breathing and get him to the helicopter that had just landed in a nearby field. We finished the call and spent quite a bit of time cleaning up the ambulance and then went back into service just like every other call.  

Several hours later, that very afternoon, my mother called to tell me that an article in the Deseret News, our local newspaper, had run a story regarding the house explosion in West Valley City. She told me, Terry and I had been pictured in the paper while we were on the call. I went to the nearest news stand and made the purchase. I scanned the pages until I found what my mother had directed me to, “Blast critically injures painter- Pilot light ignites fumes in W.V. condominium” http://www.deseretnews.com/article/836516/Blast-critically-injures-painter.html?pg=all, with the attached picture. 

Prior to this day and this photograph, I never considered really what it is that I do--really. I am in the center of the picture holding an Ambo bag, used to help this man breath.  I am literally holding this man’s life in my hands. The same hands I used to type this blog, the same hands that I use to stroke the heads of my children, and the same hands I may use to wave at a friend.  In the picture, Terry is at the foot of the stretcher in the black vest and white sleeves, as well as a police officer (whose back is to the photographer), two paramedics from the fire department wearing their fire turnout gear, and finally the flight medic from the air ambulance wearing red and black.  All but the police officer and I are looking into the helicopter as they receive instructions from the flight nurse that is inside the chopper, yelling instructions as to how best to load the patient.

My focus is intense. My actions are deliberate. I have a small gauge on the pipe, that was inserted directly into the patient’s trachea, that lets me know if the patient is getting enough oxygen. I need to be very careful not to squeeze too hard as well as to keep the pipe (tracheostomy tube) from getting pulled out. One mistake or loss of concentration for a second and this man dies. I have a very specific job--breath for this man!

Shortly after this picture was taken, this man was released to the helicopter, and flown to the University of Utah hospital where he later died from his injuries.  I remember him talking to his employee and how he was worried about getting the painting equipment loaded up and secured so no one would steal it, and fussing over the whereabouts of his truck keys. I often think about him and how he mentioned how he was cold and how he said it was getting hard to breathe. One of the very last things he said was “I can survive this.” It is always their last words that stick in my mind the most.

I  had thousands of calls before that day and thousands since that day. I often look at this picture and think about that day, and my reflection has always been about the patient and his family and friends. I had never met this man before that day. Maybe I sat behind him in traffic, or maybe in line at the bank. Maybe, I went to school with his son or daughter. We never know how we will impact someone’s life and or be impacted by another. This call helped me take notice of people and love them for their differences.

I see seven men at work in this picture. One of them will pass away before the sun sets. I see the motor home in the background and the green grass where a nasty trailer park once was,  now beautified with wild flowers and grass. I remember all the bystanders standing where the picture was taken from and traffic strolling by to "rubber-neck" the situation. It is through this picture that I see that life is precious, and life goes on. I do not remember this man's  name, but I remember him and I always will.

This picture is a reminder we never know who is watching. I did not pose for the picture nor did any of my friends and I did not even know it existed until my mother found it. I believe the photo catches the emotion of the event. I am a faithful man, and I believe that we have a role to play on this earth, and we need to learn from life’s lessons. I believe the purpose of this life is to prepare to meet God, to learn as much as we can. My hope is that one day I can stand in front of my God and say, “I did my best.”