Absolute knowledge have I none
But my aunt’s washer woman’s son
Heard a policeman on his beat
Say to a laborer on the street
That he got a letter just last week
Hand written in the finest Greek
From a Chinese collie in Timbuktu
Who said the blacks in Cuba knew
Of a colored man in a Texas town
Who got it straight from a circus clown
That a man in Klondike heard the news
From a gang of South American Jews
About someone in Borneo
Who heard of a man who claimed to know
Of a swell society dame
Whose mother-in-law will undertake
To prose that her seventh husband’s sister
Has stated in a printed piece
That she has a son who has a friend
Who knows when the date the world will end.

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Thomas S. Monson, “May We So Live,” Ensign, Aug 2008, 4-9

Suddenly and without warning, on a bright day in September almost seven years ago, two airliners crashed into the twin towers of New York City’s World Trade Center, leaving devastating destruction and death. In Washington, D.C., and in Pennsylvania, two other airliners came down, also as a result of a terrorist plot. These tragedies snuffed out the lives of thousands of men, women, and children. Evaporated were well-laid plans for pleasant futures. Instead, there were tears of sorrow and cries of pain from wounded souls.

Countless were the reports we heard of those who were touched in some way_”either directly or indirectly_”by the events of that day. Rebecca Sindar was on a flight from Salt Lake City, Utah, to Dallas, Texas, on the morning of Tuesday, September 11, 2001. Her flight, like all others in the United States at that time of tragedies, was interrupted; the plane was grounded in Amarillo, Texas. Sister Sindar reported: “We all left the plane and found televisions in the airport, where we crowded around to see the broadcast of what had happened. People were lined up to call loved ones to assure them we were safely on the ground. I shall always remember the 12 or so missionaries who were on their way to the mission field on our flight. They made phone calls, and then we saw them huddled in a circle in a corner of the airport, kneeling in prayer together. How I wish I could have captured that moment to share with the mothers and fathers of those sweet young men as they saw the need for prayer right away.” (Read the article)

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Is the web making us illiterate?
(Hello Cuil, er, Quill, er, Kool)

Posted by Chris Matyszczyk
July 28, 2008 12:50 PM PDT original article

The web is helping our children read more. Or less. Or, well, maybe it depends on what you call reading. Because if it’s got spelling mistakes or words no dictionary has caught up with yet, then it’s not really reading, is it?

The New York Times yesterday hosted a spirited debate on the subject. Parents, dyslexics, professors, even children chipped in with their muscular views.

Subtly showing its hand, the Times made sure the article was a very long one. Because, like many other bastions of journalism and literature, it is a newspaper that chooses to uphold certain standards.
(Read the article)

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Original article by the New York Times:

Literacy Debate: Online, R U Really Reading?

Nicole Bengiveno/The New York Times
The Simses of Old Greenwich, Conn., gather to read after dinner. Their means of text delivery is divided by generation.

BEREA, Ohio   Books are not Nadia Konyk’s thing. Her mother, hoping to entice her, brings them home from the library, but Nadia rarely shows an interest.

Instead, like so many other teenagers, Nadia, 15, is addicted to the Internet. She regularly spends at least six hours a day in front of the computer here in this suburb southwest of Cleveland.

A slender, chatty blonde who wears black-framed plastic glasses, Nadia checks her e-mail and peruses myyearbook.com, a social networking site, reading messages or posting updates on her mood. She searches for music videos on YouTube and logs onto Gaia Online, a role-playing site where members fashion alternate identities as cutesy cartoon characters. But she spends most of her time on quizilla.com or fanfiction.net, reading and commenting on stories written by other users and based on books, television shows or movies.

Her mother, Deborah Konyk, would prefer that Nadia, who gets A’s and B’s at school, read books for a change. But at this point, Ms. Konyk said, “I’m just pleased that she reads something anymore.”
(Read the article)

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Alex’s Funeral Address
July 15, 2008
Written and delivered by Olivia Soderborg

As I was looking around and noticing all of the people dressed in orange yesterday and today, I am reminded of a letter I received from Alex last Christmas while I was on my mission. He said, “Besides baptisms, retention, and money what do you want for Christmas? Remember if it’s clothes we’ll need sizes for tops and bottoms. Now don’t get weird, I can pick out good lookin’ stuff. I just don’t choose to.” I’m sure if Alex could have chosen something to wear to for this occasion, it would have been something orange.

PEACE
When I found out about Alex’s death I had feelings similar to those described in this passage from first Kings when the Lord speaks to Elijah on Mt. Horeb:
“And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire: but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.” (1 Kings 19:11-12)
When I heard about Alex’s motorcycle accident, I felt like a great wind had rent my mountains and that there was an earthquake and fire that threatened to consume me…and after all that, as we opened the scriptures and knelt in family prayer, I felt the still, small voice of peace that comes straight from God, who promised:
“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” (John 14:18)
Our loving Heavenly Father has not left me or my family comfortless. (Read the article)

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