Mister Gloomy, you don’t belong here!

A few thoughts on depression from my son, Jake Barrett, and his good friends Andy and Taylor Checketts. The three of them make up the band Waiting For Compromise:
Sometimes misery seems to follow you everywhere you go.

This song is available for purchase on iTunes, Google Play, Amazon, and more.

About the Music:
Jake Barrett: lead vocal
Andy Checketts: guitar/backup vocal
Taylor Checketts: piano/backup vocal/audio mixing
Bass, drums, cellos, and ambience were added using Logic Pro X.

About the Video:
Directed by Andy Checketts and Taylor Checketts.
Filmed and edited by Andy Checketts.
-Cast
Man: Braden Randall Gubler
Mr. Gloomy: Collin Jones
Man with mirror: Andy Checketts

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“This is not the God and the Christ that I Believe in”

I may be a late-comer to the bandwagon on this issue. I found this just two days ago as I was taking a closer look at Jim Dabakis’ website. And as I read, I knew I could not remain silent.  Dabakis  is pleading for help because this is an LDS issue, and Dabakis is not LDS.  But Dabakis is gay, and I am not.  I may not be able to completely understand what a gay person goes through, but I think I can understand what a gay person in the church goes through.  Especially here in Utah.  And when one member of the church sends anonymous letter of condemnation to another member, there’s a serious problem. This is the third or fourth letter of this kind, and the recipient’s sister explains:

Erik is an active member of the ward.  I’m assuming he hasn’t been to church in a couple weeks so the author must have assumed he had left the church. The letter was left on my parents front door in a plain white envelope. My parents as well as Erik live in South Ogden. This is the third or fourth letter left for him. It greatly upsets my parents.

The letter:

Left on the doorstep. And NOT THE FIRST TIME

The words I have to describe this horrific letter are inadequate, but let me give it a try.  Aside from the vile rhetoric in this letter, there are three glaring problems with the author’s argument: Continue reading

Make your life spectacular. You know he did.

53e9c2e086289The first thing I thought of when I read about Robin Williams’ death was Neil Perry laying on the floor of his father’s office, while his father shouted “No! Neil, no!” in Dead Poet’s Society.  Robin Williams was an amazingly versatile actor. We loved him in Mork and Mindy.  We loved him in The Fisher King and in Mrs. Doubtfire. He could make us laugh, and he could make us cry. Like Neil Perry, Robin Williams could truly say of his gift,  “I was good. I was very good.”

And like Neil Perry, Robin Williams was sad. He was very sad. He was very much like many of us. He was very much like me. Williams had a vision for life that he couldn’t always make true for himself. His was a vision of happiness.  Mine is a vision of happiness. Ours is a vision of happiness.

Happiness doesn’t always come just because we are successful or we have achieved a goal. Minor set backs can appear as canyons separating us from our next mountaintop, and we find ourselves in the depths of despair.

Depression doesn’t respond to fame and glory. Those of us who suffer from it know how debilitating it can be. And when we see one of our favorites fall to it, we feel it deeply.

It’s hard to say goodbye to one we loved so dearly.  I have no more words, just two borrowed tributes:

o-captainO Captain! My Captain!

BY WALT WHITMAN

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            This arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

and finally . . .