Big Babies

Despite the title, this isn't about politics.

We went to the doc today, and Des was hiding his face with his hand. "No pictures please!"

But that wasn't so alarming as his size. The boy is (estimated to be) over 6 pounds, and Mari's not due until March 10. Don't they say the baby does most of his growing in the last 2 months?

I'm not sure, because I stopped reading baby books months ago. I will be the most uninformed father I know. I'm just going to follow my instincts!

But I digress... The doc was shocked, because Mari was only a 6 pound baby at birth. Her brothers were 6 and 7 pounds, respectively, and her mom was a small baby. Apparently baby size is only passed through the mother. But I told doc that Ellsworth genes were very dominating. (Dominant is the usual term, but in this case I think dominating was appropriate).

So Mari is scared at the size of this boy, and the docs may induce a little early. I'm just happy all our food is nourishing and strengthening Des's body, just like we prayed for.

Big, healthy babies: painful coming out, but wonderful to have and hold.

When a Prophet Dies

I was threading the last loop on my tie early this morning, when Mari came into our bedroom a little teary-eyed.

"President Hinckley died," she said.

I was a little shocked, but not very sad. Although I loved and admired President Hinckley, I didn't know him personally, so I didn't feel a personal loss. And I felt like, at 97, that's as good a time to die as any. He had lived a long, full life; he served the Church well; and I learned things from him that made me a better person.

Mari, it seemed, was more emotionally invested in the Prophet. I love that about her.

In seminary, we talked about his death with the kids. We noted that, in the Old Testament when a prophet or judge died, often the people fell back into apostacy. But not us. Our church rolls on.

We talked about succession - how the next President of the Church will be Elder Monson (and not because he's the First Counselor in the First Presidency). Perhaps it doesn't have to be this way, i.e. it's not written in scripture that the longest-serving Apostle will be the next President, but that's how it is and how it has been since the Church began. (I think-was Brigham Young the longest-serving Apostle?) Well, if not Brigham, than that's the way it's been done since Brigham Young.

We then had the kids write a little journal entry about what they remember about President Hinckley. I figure, I can do the same thing here.

I enjoyed President Hinckley's straight-forward way of speaking. He didn't use much fluff in his talks, but he always spoke from his heart. He's not my favorite speaker (Elder Holland is), but I did enjoy listening to him. But that's judging my favorite speaker by speech style. I can't really say which Church leader has had the most impact on how I live. I just don't know the answer.

President Hinckley introduced the policy of building many mini-temples throughout the world. I remember watching conference on a TV in Puerto Rico when he made the announcement. I was so excited, because I remember Dad had told of an experience, I believe in a temple-worker meeting, in which President Kimball had said he envisioned the day when smaller temples would be built next to stake centers, so we could do our family history work and then go next door and do the ordinances for our families.

He also instituted the Perpetual Education Fund (how's that going, anyway? I loved hearing the stories early on).

Also, he was a little irreverent. He challenged Elder Haight to a duel in conference, and "knighted" Elder Eyring after he was sustained as a member of the First Presidency. Scandalous.

I will miss President Hinckley - he's been in the First Presidency of my church for as long as I've been paying attention. He's taught me much, and he'll be in my memories forever.

But I don't think I'll cry. We weren't tight like that.

When is a compliment an insult?

Have you ever received a compliment that made you feel like dirt?

Yesterday, a judge told our legal team, "This case was very well litigated. You can be proud of the job you've done, and your client was well represented."

He then denied our client's asylum claim, which, if she is deported (we're appealing, of course), may very well be a death sentence. A brutal, agonizing death sentence.

Like strawberry cheesecake, the words were sweet when they entered by body and tasted like... well, you know... when digested.

I never want to be a judge. I don't think I'd smile, except maybe a nervous smile from time to time.

I was unconsolable yesterday when I got home. I highly recommend the institution of marriage, for the support it provides, among its many benifits. As Mari's head rested on my chest, her breathing soft and even, I was still punching away on my Blackberry, drafting notes to myself of arguments I might raise on appeal.

Appeals are tough, because the court does not look at the whole record again, rather it just looks to see if there is evidence to support the lower court's ruling.

If you want the truth, don't look to the courts. Seriously. They are not designed to arrive at the truth. It's like two men have a disagreement. They decide, "Let's fight, and whomever wins is right." They fight, one wins, he's right. Courts are set up similarly. You have two sides. One side presents a story, and the other side attacks the story. The opponent is not interested in the truth, because that would involve discussion, corroboration, gathering as much evidence as possible. Instead, each side tries to limit evidence that can be presented in court by their opponent, and include as much evidence as they can for their side.

What's the deal with my name?

I'm going to commit blog taboo by putting my whole name out there: Adams Ellsworth! Seriously, what is it with my name that makes people add an "s" on the end of "Adam"? Everyone does it. Just yesterday, the librarian at my lawfirm spelled my name "Adams Bellsworth." The "B" I understand, because the "m" could in some occasions produce sufficient stoppage to generate a "b" sound. Try it. But the "s"? It comes from nowhere.

I mean, has anyone ever met someone with a first name of "Adams"? Madison, maybe. Jefferson, Clinton, perhaps even Roosevelt. But Adams? Not I.

And yet for some reason people feel a compulsion to add an "s" on the end of my first name. It has happened all my life. As far as I know, my siblings don't suffer from the same name-disease. I wonder if my name has a subconcious power to cross neural pathways.

I like that thought. My name has special powers. They aren't very powerful yet, but even so, you can't resist them, can you?

And what might happen if those powers grow...? Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

or is it Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha?