Malcolm Beck set the standard

I was spoiled right off when I started my professional writing career.
One of my first assignments was to cover American Fork City which meant I was to attend City Council meetings and write about what went on there.
I found meetings run with serious purpose and tightly organized so as to end each time at 9 p.m. There was even a little alarm clock that started ringing right at 9 so no one could say they didn't know it was time to stop talking.
It wasn't until later I discovered that was NOT the usual standard. (Sometimes, in meetings in Orem and Provo, you were wise to bring lunch and a pillow.)
Mayor Malcolm H Beck was the reason things went as they did.
He didn't mess around.
He worked with an agenda. He knew what was coming, what needed to happen and he had usually sorted out any potential troubles way ahead of the meeting.
But he didn't do things in secret, never had executive sessions and would always take a reporter's phone calls.
Over the years, I dealt with him on a number of levels; as the mayor, as a county commissioner, as a reliable source on just about anything.
Often, when Marc and I ran into he and his wife at the grocery store or an event, he would say, "Call me, I have a story for you!"
And he always did, something he knew about that needed addressing or the light shone upon it.
He was a treasure trove of information, candid and honest. He was very good at getting his way.
He talked to everybody.
He listened to everybody.
He often made people mad because he never beat around the bush.
He laid things right out.
Today is his funeral.
I read through his obituary Saturday and it's impressive even though I already knew most of what he's accomplished in his life.
I didn't know he was a twin.
I did know he'd been on the hospital board and involved in numerous civic organizations. I knew he'd made a difference with his life.
I knew he was a good guy, a guy who cared deeply about his family, this city and its people.
We were lucky to have him.
Marc and I consider ourselves lucky to have known him well.
We will miss him around here.

Trust us

"Just leave your credit card number with us and we'll let you know when the charge goes through," said the tire store guy.
"It'll be fine."
I was a touch apprehensive because first of all, I never know if I can trust a car repair garage and secondly, their computers hadn't been responsive all morning.
I had taken my car in for squeaky brakes.
Having just paid $300 for new brakes on our SUV, I was not anxious to pay for more for our second car.
So I was relieved when the technician came back and said my brakes were OK but I had "brake dust" building up and needed it all cleaned off.
"Brake dust?"
I'd never heard of it but if the guy was a crook, he would've just sold me some new, expensive brakes, right?
I reluctantly agreed to have the dust dusted and have some fluids changed out. In exchange, I would get a "free" oil change and they would check my alignment.
About $200 and a couple of hours later, I was trying to pay my bill.
The machine refused to take my card.
"Man!" said the tire guy. "The credit card machine isn't working again!" he yelled to the others in the shop.
He tinkered with the device and searched around for some help.
The machine refused to stay on long enough to run the charge even though I swiped and swiped.
Finally I offered to go home and get a check.
"Could you?" he asked hopefully.
"Could you pay with a check?"
I explained that I would have to run home since I never carry my checkbook with me anymore.
His colleague came up and said, "Just have her leave her credit card number and we'll run it when the computers come up."
I gulped. Oh. Ok. What assurance did I have that I wouldn't end up paying thousands of dollars in charges or, at the very least, the same $200 bill several times?
"We won't do anything like that," the guy promised. "Trust us."
Why not?

Merrymaking with the Bandito

I'll be completely honest here.
Marc and I are huge Bandito fans.
We've attended the Bandito shows in the Pickleville Playhouse in Bear Lake.
We've followed him to Salt Lake for his annual Christmas shows and so when we learned he was doing an original Christmas show in Logan, we asked TJ Davis for tickets.
We arranged to be in Logan on opening night so we could see "Juanito Bandito's Christmas Carol" for ourselves.
We weren't alone. The Ellen Eccles theatre was sold out with fans of every age and size waiting for the Bandito and wearing their mustaches!
The energy was electric.
The anticipation was high.
So when the Bandito and his sidekick guitar player came out and took seats on a pair of bar stools to play "I Don't Like Christmas!" we all celebrated. As he moved into "I Don't Like Christmas, I Love It Like a Fat Kid Likes Cake!" it took off.
The Bandito barely had to make a move.
Every Spanglish word he spoke, everytime he threatened to "Chute you!," it was funny.
We all hung on every word and enthused over the Banditos rewriting of Charles Dicken's classic story.
"This has three of the scariest things," he explained, "ghosts, nightmares and vocabulary words!"
The Bandito starts out trying to make sure everyone knows he's not pregnant and cannot be pregnant and is NOT a woman. (I have no buns in the ovens and

I can prove it!" he says. "What's Pinterest?")
Then Jordan Todd Brown comes into the picture as one of Santa's underpaid and overworked elves and he is insane.
He never stops improvising or cracking up both the cast and the audience.
Even the Bandito can't help laughing as Brown shudders, contorts his body into impossible shapes, mangles his lines and takes a turn at being the young Bandito.
Whitney Folkerson as Gratilda is also crazy. She's over the top in every scene and handles a rifle with ease. Her facial expressions and body language add immeasurably to everything she does: hiding under her invisibility clock, untangling the Christmas lights and climbing back into her coffin in Christmas Future.
It's a fun ride, even though the musical numbers and Christmas raps get a touch long and the chairs in the Eccles theater are spent.
"This is an exact copy of Charles Dicken's Christmas Carol," sputters the Bandito.
Not even close but who cares?
The Bandito's Christmas Carol plays at the Grand Theatre in Salt Lake on Dec. 18-20 starting at 7:30 each evening and on Monday the 22nd as well.

Social insecurity

Several months ago, looking ahead to our financial future, I decided to register for retirement benefits from the Social Security system.
I had a lot of reasons to do so, one being that I like to feel prepared and even though I will lose a little by taking retirement funds before I'm 66, it would give me peace of mind to have it in place.
I noted the instructions that told me I needed to get the application in three months ahead of when I expected payments to start.
Feeling quite proud of my attention to detail, I filled out the online form and sat back to wait.
I even got a little letter in the mail telling me my attempt to register with the system online had been a successful attempt.
But that was in October and since I hadn't heard anything since, I decided to circle back and see if all was in order.
I went online with my little "re-entry" number and tried to find my application.
I logged in all right but then I was to provide a confirmation number which I did not have. I tried my "re-entry number" but the system couldn't make it work to find my application.
I then started trying to call for help.
The system was overloaded and after numerous holds and switches, I was told to call back at a less busy time.
Then I found my application and this time, there was a little line in red that said "You may have to provide a marriage certificate. We will inform you if this is the case."
I hadn't been informed but I went back through my application and made sure there was nothing else.
I made sure the "i"s were dotted and the "t"s were crossed.
I put in another call.
This time I was allowed to make an appointment for someone to call me back.
I cancelled some plans. I sat on my phone.
When the call came, the nice lady told me that, indeed, I needed to show somebody my marriage certificate...the original, please, not a copy...in person.
That meant in Provo between the hours of 9 and 3 weekdays.
I looked at the clock. I could make it if I left now!
.....No one told me the office is open weekdays EXCEPT for Wednesdays when it closes at noon.
I fumed.
I drove home.
I drove back the next morning to join a line of folks waiting outside the doors at 8:59 a.m. When we finally got in the door, we each got to take a number and sit down to wait.
Ultimately, my number was called and it took about 10 seconds to prove I was legally wed.
Now I wait some more. My application is in cyberspace circling the planet. Once it lands, I'll join the ranks of those counting on the U.S. Government for financial security.
What can go wrong?

A cheery story

Marc and I have been contemplating the purchase of new outdoor Christmas lights for a while now.
We have some snowflake lights we bought a few years ago that we've never really liked.
They're "cold" lights instead of "warm" and they look kinda chintzy.
Since Marc is the one in the household who puts them up every year it seems he ought to get a say in what we do.
So when he found some icicle lights he liked at Lowe's we started seriously planning to buy them even though they were a bit pricey.
We shopped around and didn't find any others we liked better.
We measured the house and determined how many strands we would need.
We waited for Black Friday to see if they went on sale. (They didn't.)
We stood at the display looking them over until I got a migraine from the strobe effect.
Today we bit the bullet.
We gathered up our three boxes and headed to the checkstand.
The cashier looked over our cache and rang them up.
It came to $160 and change.
"Whoa!" she said. "Those are expensive lights."
"We know," we said. "We're replacing some we bought a few years ago that we've never really liked."
"I wish I could spend that kind of money on Christmas lights," she said sadly. "But I don't even know if my kids are going to have any Christmas this year. My sister died and there's no money for anything."
Marc and I looked at each other, uncertain as to what to do or say so we said nothing.
We handed her our credit card, took our lights and left.
All the way to the car and home we felt badly.
Should we have ditched our plan and given her $160 instead of buying lights we can't eat or share with the starving children in China?
Should we go back and ask her how we can help?
Should we feel ashamed of wasting our hard-earned money?
Probably.

I need to let it go

I only needed one more Elsa doll.
So when the lady at the local Disney story said she had some, I jumped in the car and headed south.
I had an appointment at 10 a.m. but it was only 9 a.m. when I left and I figured, what, the mall is 20 minutes away, I could pop in and grab my doll, pop out and be back in American Fork in time, right?
And since I hadn't seen any authentic Elsa dolls since we returned from Europe, it warranted the effort.
I needed a match for my last Anna doll for a granddaughter.
So off I charged.
I arrived in good time. I headed to the mall doors only to find little red signs hanging on the handles.
The signs said the mall wouldn't be open until 10 a.m. and until then only the doors on the north side would be unlocked.
I sighed and headed to the north side. The doors weren't open.
Apparently there was a magic north door.
I went back and moved my car over to the north side and started trying doors until I found one that opened.
I headed inside to the Disney store which was also not open until 10.
Hmmm.
Now I had a choice, wait until 10 and make my trip worthwhile or come back another day.
I didn't really dare leave because I wasn't sure I'd find another Elsa.
I decided to call my 10 a.m. appointment and get a delay except my phone was not in my purse. I figured I left it in my car.
So I went out and in the north door once more
No phone in my car. Apparently I had I left it home.
I returned to the Disney store. Now I only had about 15 minutes to wait so I stood there with a growing, restless crowd.
We watched while the sales clerks inside ignored us. I would have considered giving it up but I could see my prize just inside.
We waited somewhat patiently.
Finally, it was 10! But no one came to open the store.
At 10:05, a lady rolled a table up to the door and hung up red ropes to cordon off the doorway.
"What's the magic word?" she chirped at us.
The small children in our crowd looked at her in silence.
"Please?" one said.
"Nope, guess again!" said the saleslady cheerfully.
"Mickey?" guessed one mom holding an unhappy baby.
"Nope! What's a magic word that will open the store?" she said. "Think hard!"
"Abbracadabbra!" I whispered to the little kid.
He repeated the word and like magic the lights went on and the lady moved the box. It was wonderful.
We all rushed in and I grabbed my Elsa doll. I paid for it, sacked it and borrowed the store phone to call my appointment.
I was 20 minutes late but hurray, I accomplished my mission. I'm the proud owner of yet another Elsa doll and I'm done chasing Frozen ware!

Rocking in grandma's chair

I love the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
At least I thought I did.
I just didn't really know who they were.
I have a CD of their Christmas music I play over and over from Halloween through to New Year's and beyond.
I have my favorites that I put on "repeat" and listen to at full volume when I'm in the car or home alone: "Christmas Canon Rock," "O Come All Ye Faithful," "Boughs of Holly."
I just love what I thought was a choir boy singing his heart out.
So when Marc and I got the opportunity to attend their concert in the Energy Solutions Center Wednesday evening, we jumped at the chance.
It was short notice but we rearranged our schedule to be in our seats for the show with bells on!
And what we found was a visual treat with fire heating up the stage, real snow falling on us, moving towers that carried a couple of the band members high above us and plenty of rocking out rhythm.
I luxuriated in the sights and sounds and bathed in the energy they radiate.
I was interested to "meet the band" with their electric guitars, their flowing hair and their big smiles as they worked the audience and charmed the houseful of fans.
The only thing that set me back a bit (and I realize I shouldn't have been surprised) is the fact that the Trans-Siberian Orchestra is actually a heavy metal band that plays rock Christmas music.
Why was that a revelation to me?
Maybe there's a clue in the tracks I routinely skip when I listen to my CD. I thoroughly enjoy the instrumentals but I mostly skip the vocals.
So when the second half of the three-hour concert turned to more raucous and invigorating music sung by sweaty guys in leather, they kind of lost me.
I also would have preferred less story, less heavy rock and more of the familiar numbers.
But I'm the first to admit, this grandma is a little dated in her musical tastes and probably is not the best judge of this kind of fare.
People all around us were in heaven while I kind of plugged my ears at one point.
Even so, it was a thoroughly entertaining evening and I'm hauling out the CD to play while I write this!