Hanging with a Hockey Legend

He stepped to the microphone to announce the final pick of the first round at the 2025 National Hockey League Draft. Any hockey fan who knows his or her hockey history knew exactly who it was. If nothing else, the 'stache gave him away.

NHL legend Lanny McDonald took to the microphone with these words of wisdom: "I want to say congratulations to all 31 players picked in the first round. To the players who have not been picked and believed they were going to be in that first round, I say, come with the best attitude you possibly can tomorrow and prove them all wrong. I would also like to say, make sure you thank you billets (host families) and especially your family. You cannot get here without them."

What a class act. McDonald played 16 years in the NHL for three different teams and led the Calgary Flames to their only Stanley Cup championship at the end of the 1988-89 season, his final season playing professional hockey.

Fast forward to sometime around 2009 or 2010. At the time, I was a news anchor/reporter at CBS affiliate KPAX-TV in Missoula but whenever the local junior hockey team, the Missoula Maulers, had a home game, I volunteered to shoot video for the late night news. Why? Because I've loved hockey ever since I lived in Calgary for grades five through seven, and later took up the game myself in 2003.  

It was a typical home game for the Maulers. I showed up early, as per usual, looked across the way and there he was. It was Lanny McDonald standing in Maulers bench area. I found out later that he owns a couple of restaurants in Montana - one of them in Missoula. Since we had some time before the game started and nobody was with him, I walked through the barricades to the far side of the ice and walked into the bench with my camera, shook his hand and introduced myself. 

I don't remember exactly what we talked about except that I said something like, "So, how did you like your time with the Calgary Centennials?" That took him a little off guard. He's known as a Calgary Flames legend who became the first player to have his number retired by the team. He also played with the Toronto Maple Leafs and is the only member of the old Colorado Rockies enshrined into the Hockey Hall of Fame. In his pre-NHL days, he played two years in Lethbridge and two more in Medicine Hat but only six games for the Centennials during the 1970-71 season. "How did you know that?" he asked. I told him I'd visited the Stampede Corral in Calgary several times when I was a kid and knew of his hockey lore, including his days with the Centennials.

After a five-minute chat or so, it was game time - time for me to claim a spot along the board to shoot and for him to walk out on the ice for the ceremonial puck drop. A great guy and ambassador for the game, it was an honor to meet and spend a few minutes with him. Thanks Lanny!

N-B-A = B-A-D Basketball

"It's a different brand of basketball." Those words came from my son-in-law as we watched an NBA playoff game, my first time watching an entire NBA game in several years. He's right.

No motion. No passing. Just clear out, jab step, crossover dribble, step up, step back, push off, forced contact, 1-on-1, 1-on-2, 1-on-whoever and on and on and on. It didn't matter which team had possession of the basketball either. 

Apparently, gone are the days of working the ball inside, driving strong to the hoop, utilizing the pick-and-roll and setting screens. What blatantly and obviously stood out the most to me was the lack of offense or really anybody in the key. And that offensive philosophy was the same for both teams. Teammates space themselves out beyond the three-point line and look to launch, often forcing, long, ugly forced three-point shots. 

Nobody in the key...n-o-b-o-d-y!

Breaking news: an NBA player (okay, he's a defender) is spotted in the key

It's just not the basketball I grew up playing and watching on the collegiate level or even in the NBA. If I had try to force the modern NBA way back with my first organized team, as a young elementary-age recreational league or junior high school player, I'd be on the bench. Back then, even with kids just learning the team game, it was about passing, teamwork, creating good shots and going to the basketball. The closer, the better.

Today's NBA is almost solely about long-distance shooting including logo three-pointers. When it's not, it's about one guy holding the ball for 6, 8, 12 seconds and then chucking it up. It's ugly. 

Some would say I'm just grumpy. Okay, I get it, I'm an old guy. The game is different. But I'm not alone in my criticism either. Charles Barkley, a fellow old guy and one recognized as a top-50 all-time professional player, criticizes today's NBA for a lack of team play and an overreliance on individuals forcing things. He's not wrong.

Oh well, there's always the college game or high school or even junior high. I do love the game. I played organized or pick up for the majority of my 60-plus years. I'll just swallow hard and accept it for what it is - a different brand of basketball.

Beautifying an Ugly View

Looking out, the view is beautiful. Looking up, not so much. 

What we wanted to do was beautify, or at least make it not as ugly, so the porch of the shop house was more inviting. The question was how? With our financial focus on the inside of the structure, money was tight. We didn't have enough old fir flooring when we rebuilt our home after the fire eight years earlier so we needed another solution to cover it up. 

One day, we noticed a bunch of bundles of long wooden strips on our neighbor's property. Then, while surfing on Facebook Marketplace, I saw a posting for "free kindling." It was obviously the same place where he found his wood. I sent a Facebook message seeking information. The response directed me to set a date, time and then show up at the old lumber mill in Bonner, just the other side of Missoula. I asked to borrow my son-in-law Kenny's long trailer and I was good to go on a weekday during my lunch break. 

Upon arrival, the forklift driver told me to pick out a bundle or two and he would load them. I chose one large bundle of 12-foot and 16-foot pine strips, plus another bundle of long, slender planks. It was obvious the wood was not sellable because it was warped and of different widths. But hey, free is free, right? After getting loaded, I strapped it down and drove back to work. 

Later that evening, the question was how to get it off the trailer. Lori and I could not move it at all. I texted the Redneck Master, Kenny, who came to the rescue. Since I already had straps around the bundles, he attached another and used the winch on the old Parowan farm truck, now his plow truck, to carefully roll the bundle off the trailer, without damaging the railing. It was yet another nod to his redneck brilliance.

With that task checked off, Lori and I spent the next several evenings using the chop saw and nail gun to cut and attach the wood strips and planks to the beams of the 8-foot by 20-foot ceiling. Since all of the boards were warped, some much worse than others, we used the saw to chop some of the warp out of them. It was a tedious process, but a fun project to do together. Again, like when we laid flooring in the house, Lori showed off her ability to use the chop saw and now, the nail gun. Like she exclaimed several times, "If my Dad could only see me now!"

After lots of measuring, cutting and nailing over several days, we had an almost finished product. All that was left to do was to stain it. As a guy who has enjoyed painting or staining 15 to 18 houses over my lifetime, staining is not for the weak hearted. Let me clarify. Staining a house isn't that bad at all. I've stained six of them. But this project called for staining a ceiling above our heads instead of the side of a building. It was messy and sticky and just plain no fun. However, in the end, we had ourselves a good-looking, dark walnut final product, similar in color to the deck posts and building trim. And more importantly, it no longer detracted from the view looking out into the Ponderosa pine forest.

Turning the Page

May-June 2025 Bugle
masthead

July-August 2025
Bugle

The July-August issue of Bugle magazine landed on my desk on a late spring morning. I thumbed through it, as I had some so many times before, looking over the table of contents, headlines, photo essay, feature stories, ads, coloring of the images and graphics, and then flipped to the masthead, which lists the editors and organizational leadership. For the first time in 13 years, my name was not included.

The turning of the page of my Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation (RMEF) career began in early 2025. While working at my desk late in the afternoon, the CEO poked in his head and asked if I could join him in his office. Over the next 50 minutes, he laid out his vision to expand our advocacy work and boost its public outreach. Then, citing my background as a broadcast journalist for 24 years, he basically offered me a new position basically said, "You would be good at this." He asked that I take the weekend to discuss it with my wife and get back to him the following Monday.

I began working at RMEF in May 2012. I walked into headquarters on a Thursday morning at 8 o'clock, some nine hours after anchoring the final KPAX-TV 10 o'clock newscast of the television ratings period. It was the final newscast of my TV career. My new title at RMEF was director of public relations. When my six-month probation came to an end, my supervisor asked that I take on a new responsibility and the new title of director of communications. With it came supervision of the Bugle magazine staff. 

So, for the next 13 years I worked with the four editors, executive team leadership and members of other departments, RMEF members and volunteers to help produce the bimonthly magazine. It was a great learning experience to work with talented editors, freelancer writers and photographers, and others. Over that time, I had other duties added to my plate and several other titles and office locations. 

All of the Bugle magazines produced during my 13 years working with the magazine staff

Back to 2025 and the decision-making process about the new position. When I got home from work, I stood in our kitchen talking to Lori. I told her about my meeting with Kyle, his vision, the new position and what its future could look like. The more I rehashed our conversation, the more excited I became. By the time I was done explaining, it was done deal. I was ready to turn the page and transition into new duties. I told Kyle exactly that the following Monday morning.

While I still attend Bugle planning meetings as my schedule permits, the Bugle staff has a new supervisor. Now, my focus is on state and federal legislation, state wildlife commission meetings, conferences, legal happenings and court cases, and other issues that impact our mission. New initiatives and working orders are to come. I'm both grateful and excited for what lies ahead.

The Miracle of Finding Mel

We had searched for years but simply could not find him. No signs on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, nothing. No obituary. No online mentions. Just nothing. Where was Mel Spencer?

And here we were 40 years later, all together again as college roommates. Well, almost all together. Six of us -Al & Gary Long, Roger Johnson, Mike Toth, my brother Alan and me- traveled from different parts of the country to meet up for a reunion at a beautiful lake house on the shoreline of Lake Coeur d'Alene in North Idaho. There were three notable absences. Rick Jones planned to make the trip but got sick at the last minute and had to stay home. My brother Kerry could not get off work. And then there was Mel. Where was he?

Left to right: Alan, Al, Mike, Roger, me & Gary

I moved into the blue house just south of the BYU campus in January of 1985 and lived there through the summer of 1986. I shared a room with Roger my first semester and Mel the next three. Depending on the comings and goings of others, I was either the youngest or second-youngest of the nine guys living there but soon found myself among good friends. Rick, Gary and Al were from Topeka. Us Holyoak boys grew up in Wichita. Roger was from Maryland, Mike from Wisconsin and Mel from Idaho. Because of the heavy Kansas influence, the blue house was known as Kansas House for a little while before I moved in. Four guys lived upstairs and the other five downstairs, so it was also later called Planet of the Apes and Beneath the Planet of the Apes. Mostly, we just called it the Blue House.

Above is a video Alan put together and showed while we were all together. It's worth noting that we booed when the light blue apartment at the :15 mark popped up on the screen, which is the building the owners built after tearing down the blue house as soon as we all moved out of it.

Of course, we all spent the majority of our time studying and pursuing our individual academic degrees. However, we had fun along the way too, including group dates, Sunday meals of roast, mashed potatoes and gravy (that always seemed to attract different groups of girls), a BYU co-rec ultimate frisbee intramural championship, a runner-up finish in the men's division and a serious run at the men's intramural basketball title. It featured a field of 300+ teams. We made it to the final eight before bowing out in a one-possession game. Together, there was much light-hearted taunting, dogpiles, pranks, watching "church of the round ball" and "church of the oblong ball," four-square battles, movie watching and laugher. Most of all, these guys became my brothers. One of them even, Al, went on a date with my future wife the day before I did. And two others sang at my wedding reception.    

The reunion spawned from a 2024 photo with Rick and Al. What would it be like if we could get the whole entire gang back together again? Alan took that thought and ran with it. He formed a group text thread with everyone on it. Everyone, that is, except Mel. Alan had made contact with Mel's family a number of years earlier and found out Mel was dealing with a condition of some sort that restricted him to a wheelchair, but that was years ago. Unfortunately, Alan's link to Mel went silent and the communication ended.

Anyway, everyone agreed it would be great to get together. We chose the Coeur d'Alene lake house because Mike knew the people who owned it and let us stay there for free. One by one, the six of us trickled into town and there we were living under the same roof again, even though it was just for a handful of days.

We really didn't do anything that big or crazy - no expensive excursions or anything like that. Mostly, we reverted to what we did four decades earlier - just lots of sitting around, laughter, jokes and reminiscing while playing a lot of games. There was no awkwardness. It was like we had been apart for 40 minutes, not 40 years.

Our reunion home base - thanks for hooking us up, Mike

Not a bad view from the back deck

Perhaps the highlight was the first full night when we were together. It was labeled a "Here's what I've been up to the last 40 years" program. With Rick and Kerry on video calls, each of us took five to 15 minutes to let the other guys know what we had been up to since leaving the blue house - careers, travels, church involvement, marriage, kids, grandkids, life experiences and challenges, etc. At the end of each presentation came this query, "Okay, any questions?" Then the other guys could chime in and ask whatever they wanted, make comments and we were all off and laughing again. It was crystal clear that the brotherhood, admiration and respect that we formed back in the mid-1980s, was still alive.

Our planned program started at 6 p.m. local time or 9 p.m. for Rick back on the East Coast. It was still rolling at midnight (his time) when Rick bailed out to go to bed because he had to go to work the next day. It ended on an up note as Kerry started telling stories from back in the day ranging from basketball to blue house pranks. Everyone joined in and the hilarity continued. It was perfect. Or it would have been, if Mel would have been with us or online. Where was he?

The next morning was Friday - our last full day together. Despite a drizzly kind of day, we drove into Coeur d'Alene and the six of us took a mid-to-late-morning stroll around the boardwalk. Then we walked through The Resort, checking menus and trying to figure where to grab lunch. We decided to leave the ritzy restaurants behind, head back outside and walk a block and a half to Paul Bunyan Famous Burgers. Once back at the lake house, it was lots of laid back shooting the breeze and playing games before we capped the evening by watching a movie together.

One thing we did do back in the day at the blue house is watch (a lot of) movies

We had a local take this photo of us and later had some fun with it since it looked like Roger was the lead singer and we his backup singers. Names we came up with included RJ & the Blues Brothers, RJ & the Leftovers, Roger & the Blue Man Group  

After the show, several of us got on our phones or computers and went into an advanced search mode for Mel. We did find a couple of leads earlier in the day. Gary contacted a former church leader where Mel grew up. The man said he would try to track down Mel's brother who then might have information about Mel. Roger had made a key discovery when he found Mel on LinkedIn. That was a breakthrough because there are a bazillion Mel or Melvin Spencers on LinkedIn. What jumped out is Mel has his home base listed as Apex, North Carolina. At last, we had a geographic region to hone in on. 

I found a Facebook group page for our church in Apex. There was an email address so I dropped a line explaining who I was and who we were looking for. Then, because of my church clerk responsibilities, it dawned on me that I could access the churchwide leadership directory. I typed Apex, North Carolina, in the search bar and a list of leadership with names and contact info popped up. And then, BAM, there it was! Daniel Greco's name showed up with his phone number. Not only was Daniel a family favorite when he served as a full-time missionary in Lolo a decade or more ago, but we remained Facebook friends and both he and his brother have been in my fantasy hockey league since then. By now, it was about 2 a.m. at Daniel's house back in North Carolina but I dropped him a text asking if he happened to know anything about Mel. I was hoping we would hear back when he got up the next day.

Al left early Saturday morning for Spokane to catch his flight home. Mike would drive Gary and Roger to the airport so they could fly out later in the afternoon while Alan and I would drive to my place in Montana. About 8:30 my phone beeped with a text notification. It was Daniel: "We've known the Spencers for a long time! Mel has actually been very sick. He has Parkinson's and is not doing well. I can give you his wife's contact info." Her number followed. I read the text to the guys and we gave Myungha, Mel's wife, a call. It rang two times, three times, four times. "Sure hope she picks up the random number," one of the guys said. Then, "Hello?" I told her who I was, that I was one of Mel's old college roommates, that we had been searching for him for years and a number of us were together at that very moment. Then Alan said, "Has Mel ever said anything about the guys in the blue house?" Myungha started to laugh. "Yes, he has told us all about you," she said. 

She went on to tell us that Mel was in poor shape. He had been in a care center for seven months as the disease had taken its toll. Mel was intubated, could not speak and no longer had command of his body or appendages. We asked if there was any way at all that we could talk to him so he could at least hear our voices. Myungha said she was going to be with Mel in two hours and while he may look unresponsive, she clarified that his mind is still sharp and he understands. She said she would call us back once she arrived and was with him. After getting off the phone, we called Rick and Kerry and told them of developments. Each of them said they would make themselves available. And then we waited.

Two hours later, Myungha texted that they were ready. I let her know that Gary was going to Facetime her. Moments later, we saw a cheerful Myungha and the video chat began. After years of looking for him, there was Mel laying on his back in a bed. One by one, we each greeted him, told him how much we missed, how much we appreciated him and gave him brief individual life updates. All the time, Myungha held the phone above him so we could see him and he could see us. Rick and Kerry also called in and they, too, spoke to Mel. 

Toward the end of the call, Kerry jumped in and recited from memory (somehow) a song that he and I and maybe Mike wrote back in the day. Kerry said it went to the tune of Deck of the Halls:  

Who's the one we all love?
Mel ma Mel ma Mel, ma Mel, Mel, Mel.
Who's so tall he stands above us?
Mel ma Mel ma Mel, ma Mel, Mel, Mel.
Out of college, he'll make much moolah.
Mel ma Mel ma Mel, ma Mel, Mel, Mel.
Boolah, Boolah, Boolah, Boolah.
Mel ma Mel ma Mel, ma Mel, Mel, Mel!

At that moment, you could see a hint of a smile. No, it was more than a hint. "You guys made Mel Smile!!" Myungha later texted me. We each said our final goodbyes, expressed our love to Mel and wished him and Myungha the very best. And just like that, the call was over.

We added Myungha to the blue house text group and we continued to communicate. It was touching to see her message to us all:

"I wanted to say thank you so much for the very special FaceTime with Mel and all you Blue House Gang guys! 😀 Mel was so touched to see each of you, I had to wipe away his tears of gladness. I’m so glad I finally got to meet you all. We knew about you guys already even though you didn’t meet us in person. Mel shared many memories with the girls and I. I thought you would all like to know the story of what’s happened to Mel. Please share this story with others in your group who are wondering about him. Mel was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in the winter of 2017. We were so shocked because he seemed so healthy, active and worked so hard at work, church and home. No one including him believed that he had PD. It progressed slowly for the first 3 years and then the symptoms became more obvious over the next few years. He got Covid in September of 2024 and hasn’t recovered since. That has led him to have lung problems. The surgery didn’t help him. Now he has a tracheostomy, ventilator and feeding tube. The doctors said he is not going to recover from it. None of us knows when the Lord will bring him Home. Mel is in good spirits generally. He has been faithful and served the Lord for all his life. He is finally coming back home next Tuesday. He hasn’t been home for over 7 months! We are looking forward to it. Thanks again, it was really wonderful to see all of you and hope you enjoy your get-together!"

So after years of searching, everything came together and did so in a mere matter of hours. Our reunion was so great but capping it off by not only being together to find Mel but having the opportunity to express tender thoughts and feelings to and for him was indeed a miracle. God bless you Mel and Myungha! Here's to the miracle of finding Mel!

(Mel passed away on May 31, 2025, two weeks to the day after we communicated with him. RIP Mel. 💔)

Back row: Roger, Kerry & Alan
Middle row: Me, Al & Mike
Front row: Mel, Randy Woodworth & Rick (1985)

A Holyoak Shoutout on an Historic Wichita Morning

John Bazzelle

"You still up?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

It was 11:01 p.m. on a Friday night but that incoming text came from the Midwest where it was one minute after midnight. My longtime childhood friend John Bazzelle sent it. I thought, "That's kind of late for him." And just as a question entered my head, he answered it with, "Don't panic, it's all good." 

You see, we had had too many sad communications over the last few years. First, it was my dad who was sick and passed away. Several years later, it was his father, Joe, who actually sang at my dad's funeral, who passed on. Less than two years later, his mother, Kathie, passed away. Joe and Kathie were great people and longtime friends of my folks, too.

Next thing you know, my phone rang with John on the other end. He said something like, "As you probably know, but if you don't, the groundbreaking for the Wichita Temple is tomorrow. LeRene (John's wife) said I had better let you know what's going on here." Actually, I did not know it was the following morning so I appreciated the heads up. 

He then related how he was asked much earlier to help set up the layout for power and microphones. And then he got an unexpected request which was to be one of the program's speakers. What a cool honor! We chatted for another 20 minutes or so and I told him he'd better get to bed since it was so late. He did texted me the info so we could watch the broadcast. That was great for a number of reasons. Though my family's history in Wichita is nowhere near as long and meaningful as John's, Wichita holds a dear and historic spot in our hearts. 

Dad as a missionary

Dad (2nd from right)

My dad served in the Central States Mission, that included Wichita, as a young missionary from 1950 to 1952. Though he lived among the Native Americans in Oklahoma the whole time, he did attend meetings in Wichita. 

A couple of decades, and four kids later, our family moved there in the early 1970s. We lived in Wichita for three years before moving to Calgary, Alberta, for three years before moving back to Wichita in the mid-70s, re-establishing some friendships and forming new ones as we set deep roots in a place where our Mom and Dad lived, even after us four kids left home, for some five decades. Alan once asked Dad about serving another mission - this time as a senior missionary couple with Mom. His response was, "That's what we've been doing the last 50 years." 

When we first moved to Wichita, we were in the Manti Temple district - a 1,000-mile drive to the west. Over time, as more temples were built, that changed to Dallas (360 miles) and eventually Oklahoma City (170 miles), where my folks served as temple workers for a couple of decades or so. So yeah, Wichita means a lot to us.

John's heads up was also great timing because Mom happened to be visiting with us at our place in Montana. Like us, she didn't know the groundbreaking was going on so we woke her up shortly before the broadcast, told her about John reaching out, and the three of us (Lori included) watched. It was so neat to witness the excitement of a temple being built in Wichita. While all the speakers were great, I was really looking forward to seeing John and hearing his words.

To our surprise -and delight- John gave a shoutout to us, the Holyoaks, along with so many other family friends we knew over the years. Thanks for your words, your example and your friendship, John!

Below are the words shared by John Bazzelle at the Wichita Kansas Temple groundbreaking that blustery Saturday morning.

First, I’d like to thank Elder Bangerter and President Chandler for this opportunity. I am truly humbled and deeply honored to even be present at this historic event. May I wish all of you, a heartfelt, Happy Temple Day!

I was asked that I address the topic, “Understanding the significance of a temple at this location to members of the church throughout the Wichita Temple District.”

The Impact to each of us individually, and as families, branches, wards and Stakes, is so much more than geography, but this place does matter a great deal and it will mean different things to different people. Perhaps the reason I was asked to speak on this topic is that my family history is so closely tied to the history of the church in this area. We are now six generations of Latter-day Saints in Wichita. My Great Grand Father, Edward Daniel Holmes or Grandpa Ned, as we call him, is said to be the first convert to the Church in Wichita. He was Baptized June 17, 1915 in the ArKANSAS River (yes that is the correct pronunciation). He immediately began to build the kingdom, Sometimes out with the missionaries 5 nights a week. Literally preaching in the streets of Downtown Wichita and holding cottage meetings all across South Central Kansas. In short order, they were joined by names like Julian, Samson, Walker, Clark and Ingram. Pioneers all because in those days, prejudice and persecution against the Church was still quite common. As Church membership grew, it was difficult to find places to meet.

Often any hall they rented, they were not allowed to return to once it was discovered that “Mormon” Services had been held there. The Mission President, Samuel Bignon finally told Ned to get the money, buy the land and build a church. Now no one would sell land to the church. So, he had to buy it himself and then transfer the deed to the church. Which was a struggle as well. Ned and Tom Kimball drove the whole region collecting money. They found good help in Augusta, Macpherson and Belle Plain and finally raised $8,000.00. They purchased a former dairy at the corner of Skinner and Wichita St. that had been owned by a fella named Hyrum Smith (no known relation). That building still stands today.

From that small branch the church grew steadily until the first stake was formed in 1962. That stake boundary covered a very similar footprint as the new Wichita Temple District. Many of the stalwart families that continue to have great impact here joined the church or moved here during the 1960’s and 70’s. Names like Jones, Meador, Toland, McIntyre, Hewitt, Hill, Spackman, Bozarth, Gruver, Epperson, Bates, Balzer, Holyoak, the Orrs and countless others brought pioneer spirit and determination to live the gospel and raise children in Zion.

Temple blessings have been long sought and fought for by the members in South Central Kansas. For the first 7 decades, it was likely to be a once in a lifetime experience. Significant sacrifice was required to make the pilgrimage to Utah. Temple trips often required a full week or more all the way into the mid -1980’s.

My siblings, cousins and I are four generations from the permanent establishment of the Church here. My brother Ron, who serves as 1st Counselor to Pres. Chandler, observed in a recent interview, that with each succeeding generation, Temple blessings came ever closer to us. In Grandpa Ned’s lifetime, the closest Temple was over 1,000 miles away in Salt Lake City. In our Grandmother’s lifetime the Dallas Temple was built. In our parent’s lifetime it was Oklahoma City. And now we stand on Sacred Ground able to see The House of The Lord rise before our very eyes. Less than 10 miles from that first small chapel. Within sight of the river in which all the early members in Wichita were baptized. Right next to the lake some of us played in as children. And truly walking distance for some members of the Valley Center Ward.

This close proximity is a great blessing to be sure, but it is not a blessing merely of convenience. The promise of covenants to come has been yielding life changing and therefore Eternal blessings in lives throughout the region from the very moment President Nelson said “our” name that glorious afternoon of April 3, 2022. Something about knowing we would soon have a temple here set fire to testimonies, sparked repentance, and returning and the healing of relationships. Inspired parents to lead in their homes, children to learn and set goals, youth to study and seek strength from one another, and all of us to better unite and work toward sharing this blessing together.

Artist's rendition of the Wichita Kansas Temple

I’m sure every Bishop in the District has seen what I have. A dramatic rise in requests for new or renewed temple recommends. Family members who have promised children or spouses to be ready when this Temple is open. Individuals who have been inspired to return and began that journey even before this Temple was announced are strengthened in their resolve to continue on the covenant path. And I know, there are some listening today who have felt in recent years or even days, that someday soon, they should make changes and begin again. Let me leave you with the words of President Nelson, who just a moment before announcing our Temple gave this prophetic counsel.

Quote - Yes, we should learn from the past, and yes, we should prepare for the future. But only now can we do. Now is the time we can learn. Now is the time we can repent. Now is the time we can bless others and “lift up the hands which hang down.” As Mormon counseled his son Moroni, “Let us labor diligently; … for we have a labor to perform [while] in this tabernacle of clay, that we may conquer the enemy of all righteousness, and rest our souls in the kingdom of God.”

I testify that Russel M. Nelson is the Prophet of God on the earth today. Jesus Christ is our Only Savior. He is our Redeemer. His Light and Peace and Joy will fill this, His house and you will feel it. It will heal your heart and your homes. And he will bring us together in His House and walk us hand in hand back into the presence of our Father.

His hand is stretched forth still. We have but to take it and go forward, now.

I so testify in this Holy Place, In the Holy name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

John, LeRene and their family turning dirt where the new temple will eventually stand

"Chalk One Up for the Old Guys"

As I returned to the back corner of the dugout, there sat Dave Loomis, father of our team captain and manager Matt Loomis, with, as always, the team's scorebook in hand. This time though, he had a goofy grin on his face. As I approached, he looked at me and said, "Chalk one up for the old guys!" I chuckled as well, although somewhat breathlessly.

Here's the deal. We were only two batters into our game when I came to the plate. Our leadoff man, Alex, was already on base. As I peered across the field, I noticed the third basemen was playing a bit off the third base bag and the left fielder played me even more so toward left center field. I just wanted to put the ball in play down the line. I got a good inside pitch and did exactly that. As soon as it left my bat, I knew the line drive would be an easy double. 

As I rounded first base, I glanced toward the left field corner, It looked like the left fielder maybe took too sharp of an angle and couldn't quite cut off the ball as it headed to the fence. Now, I'm an old guy (turning 62 this December) so extra bases in softball are nowhere near as plentiful as they used to be. But hey, I can still run pretty well, you know, for an old guy. I just kept chugging. Our third base coach waved me home and I crossed the plate with an in-the-park home run, meeting my teammates with high fives and fist bumps as I entered the dugout. Then I made my way to Dave in the back corner.

Hmmm, the last time I hit a legit home run was, was...I couldn't remember. Shoulder surgery in my mid-50s precluded any such statistic so it had to be in my early 50s or even late 40s. 

Four days later, I found myself on the King Ranch Golf Course in Frenchtown, Montana, teeing it up with my son, Jace, a mutual friend, Brandon, and my brother, Alan. Little did I know but lightning was going to strike again, although in a slower, more methodical fashion. 

To make a long story shorter, I hit some marvelous (especially for me) shots on my way to a 2-over par 38. Two-over! That was my best showing since the mid to late 1990s and just two strokes off my best 9-hole score ever. Just craziness! 

The most wild part was carding back-to-back birdies for the first time in my life. On the 302-yard, par-4 third hole, my approach shot landed about six feet from the pin. That putt found the bottom of the hole. The next hole was even crazier. My 155-yard approach shot on the 407-yard, par-4 fourth hole was a 7-iron that I did not hit flush. In fact, it was more of a worm-burning scorcher but it was on line with the target. Because of the lay of the land, I did not see it once it rolled over the lip of the green but Jace yelled that it hit the flagstick. We made our way up there and sure enough, a tap-in 12-inch putt for birdie. Go figure. Chalk up another one for the old guys!