General Spiritual

Don’t Let It Happen On Your Watch

The other day I was eating at my favorite place in Las Vegas, Sammy’s Dog House. It’s an outside stand where you order and then sit outside and chow your dog.

As I was sitting there, someone on the other side of the parking lot started honking their horn. And honking. And honking. And honking.

After one minute of honks, my thought was, “Man, I wish that annoying goober would pipe down.”

Then after 3 minutes of honking, I realized that the person might be in trouble. I pulled myself away from my Chicago Dog and Ranch fries (so good) and walked across the parking lot.

I wish I had something really awesome to report, but of course the honking stopped right as I neared the location. I looked at the different cars to see if someone was inside of one unresponsive, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. I returned to my dog and fries.

When I got back, there were four old folks enjoying their food. I saw them watching me and reported, “You know, after a while you just have to go check. But I didn’t see anything.”

One of the older ladies said, “I was real impressed that you went and did that. We were just sitting here mad at the person for ruining our lunch not thinking that someone may need help.”

I told them that you always hear about those stories where a kid was kidnapped amidst a group of people because no one stepped up to ask what was going on and I didn’t want that happening on my watch.

She was impressed enough to offer to buy my lunch. When I told her I eat there free, she offered a nice grandma hug instead.

I bring this up only to remind everyone how good it feels to watch out for others. Though there wasn’t anything to be found, it’s a satisfactory feeling to even try. And, as the elderly folks showed, failure to watch out for others brings a tinge of guilt.

There is a phrase from a Elder Holland talk that has always stuck with me. It is in reference to when God asks Cain where his brother Abel can be found. Cain answers, “I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Maybe the answer to that question is….”No, Cain, you are not expected to be your brother’s keeper. But you are expected to be your brother’s brother.”


My July Stockpile

Here are random things to post but that don’t deserve their own post:

  • One of the reasons I love dealing with Apple is because they treat customers good. Yesterday I went into the Apple Store to have them look at the battery on my iPhone. They did a quick test, saw that the charge capabilities were a bit low, and just handed me a new iPhone 5 minutes later. On top of that, my phone only had 2 days left on it’s warranty. Usually when you try to take an electronic back there are all kinds of hassles and hurdles to jump over. And with the great backup ability of iTunes, I plugged my iPhone in when I got home and everything was restored in a few minutes. Address Book, SMS messages, call history, everything.

    Now, just two more days until I get my next new iPhone.

  • I’m so excited for Scare Tactics to start again tonight. This year, Tracy Morgan hosts it which will be awesome. (If you haven’t seen the show, watch some highlights here and here)
  • Candace and I will be moving into our new house soon. Hopefully by the end of the week. It’ll be strange living only a mile or so from where I grew up.
  • Candace is just about thru the first trimester with Stucki Baby #2.
  • Cole likes water and likes being outside. So he REALLY likes helping grandma wash her car.

One Man’s Trash Is Another Man’s Trash Too

Last Friday, it was garbage day in my neighborhood. Cole and I took the garbage can out to the street nice and early. Later that day, I went to my data center and came back to the garbage can off the street. I figured that Candace took it up to the house.

But when I pulled in, I didn’t see the can there on the side of the house. (We keep it on the side because Cole’s poop+105 degrees+closed garage=a very smelly car interior.)

Candace hadn’t pulled it up to the house and it was no where to be seen. We just assumed someone didn’t want to spend the $90 for their own garbage can so they took ours and drove off. Alright, the positive part is we won’t have to move it next week when we get into our new house.

But yesterday, I come home and see our garbage can in our neighbor’s garage. They are new neighbors since Paul moved away. It’s a group of younger guys so I assumed they made a mistake and thought it was their can.

So, I went up to the door and the conversation went as follows:

“Hey, I think my garbage can may have been pulled up to your house on accident last week. If you guys just want to put it out tomorrow (other garbage day) then I’ll bring it back to my house after it is emptied.”

“Which can?”, they replied.

“The one with the wheels.”, I clarified.

“No, that’s ours. We bought it when we moved in.”

Assuming the good, I walked out there with them to be sure we were talking about the same one. Indeed we were. The one with the wheels and the name “Stucki” on it.

“Yeah, that’s ours.”, he affirmed.

It was a very strange conversation. I felt like a freshman in PE again when Darryl took my deodorant and said, “Yeah, I brought this in. My mom bought it for me.”

So, I just plan to bring the can back to our house after it is emptied today and hope that civility wins out. But if that doesn’t work, I’m going to drill a hole in the bottom put a remote detonated paint bag in the bottom of the can. If it ends up in their garage again….BOOM…a newly painted floor.