Obituary

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A local teacher passed away as the result of a tragic automobile collision on January 9, 2009. J. Zimmerman was born on September 9 in California to Mr. George Zimmerman and Kathleen Scott, he was proceeded in death by Simon, his younger brother.

“Mr. Z,” as he was affectionately known to his students, was struck by an unidentified parent while on afternoon bus duty January 9, 2009. Mr. Z had rushed into the busy intersection to the aide of one of his students who’d ventured into traffic; he was struck by an oncoming car. He sustained many injuries and was pronounced dead on the scene by paramedics.

Mr. Zimmerman spent much of his life in the service of the children he cared about so much; veteran teacher in his own time—though only having taught for 7 years previous to his passing. He will be missed by all. One teary-eyed student, only identified as ‘Joey,’ said: “I’ve never had a teacher give me as much homework as Mr. Z. I always complained about it, but now I’m really going to miss it.”

Mr. Z had never considered becoming a teacher while growing up; he was bound and determined to pursue a field in cinematography and movie editing. It was while he was serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints that he made the decision to become a teacher. Surprisingly, this decision came about when volunteering at a private Catholic school.

Upon his return to Washington State, he attended college and soon received his associates’ degree—the first member of his family to complete college. He later attended BYU and graduated with a 3.8 grade-point average. After college, Mr. Z was hired by the Provo School District and taught 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grades for seven years. Mr. Z was very active in the after-school programs, and during his fourth year as an educator was recognized as the Provo School District Teacher of the Year. Two years later, he was acknowledged by the Milken Foundation as one of the top educators in the state of Utah.

Mr. Zimmerman had a successful photography business; and he explored many of the deserts of southern Utah. He was always on a trip someplace in the desert; sometimes he’d be gone for weeks on end, making regular calls when he had cell service to let his family and a few friends know where he was. He was able to capture the beauty of the world around him through the lens of his camera, and it was this beauty he sought to share with those he loved.

Mr. Z is survived by his parents and four siblings. Mr. Zimmerman’s services will be held on Monday, January 12, 2009 at Beesley Memorial Home. His remains will then be cremated and scattered by Rob Evans, a friend and local pilot, over the San Rafael Swell Desert, his home away from home.

Contributions, or comments, may be made in his honor on this site.




Okay, my class is currently studying the varied facets of newspapers and yesterday we dabbled into obituaries. The students were then given an assignment…they were to author their own obituary…deciding when and how they would die. While I had some students who chose to be pushed into vats of toxic acid, and others who merely fell into a slumber from which they did not awake, I decided on a more ‘heroic’ demise.

I will say this, they’d never been so excited to write something than they did last night for homework; however, I also made them a deal…I would write an obituary too. While the obituary you read above is a bit more ‘fleshed out’ than the one I shared with the class, the basic cause of death was the same.

However, rest assured…

I’m not dead.

I’m not suicidal.

I’m not dating anyone.

However, many of you have undoubtedly noticed that I hadn’t been blogging very much as of late. In this regard, one would think that I’ve been dead to the blogging world…and maybe I have…

Just know, it isn’t you…it’s me.

Really.

It isn’t that I haven’t had anything to say…it’s just that…well, I haven’t felt a desire to write anything lately. Therefore, I didn’t. It’s hard to explain, really.

I am sorry if I worried any of you. I just didn’t want to write something just for the sake of writing something, you know? If I were going to blog, I wanted it to be of substance and not just another piece of fluff to encumber the Internet.

Ah, the worlds of fluff…

To those who missed me, I thank you. You made my day. Just know…I missed you too.

Cat, or Dog?

Pin It I am a cat.

I say this not because I really am a cat, after all, I am actually allergic to them (plus the fact that I hate them too). I say this because I used to be a dog…in fact, some days I am a dog, while other times, I find myself being a cat.

Let me explain…

A dog is an animal that just seems to love you, no matter what. He goes out of his way to be around you too. A simple scratch behind the ears completely makes his day. He comes when you call, and always wants to play. No matter how many times you throw the ball or want to run in the park, he is there. If it’s raining, and you are going out in the rain, the dog usually wants to go with you…he just doesn’t care what the weather is.

Not so for a cat. A cat is a solitary creature; it wants nothing more than to do what it wants, when it wants. If you call it, it does not come. In fact, the more you try to get it to do what you want, the more it tries to stay away. If you give it an order to stay, or to go, it usually does not. When it rains, the cat stays inside, and just lazes around, staying where it is warm and cozy. Maybe if the weather is nice, the cat would oblige to go outside…maybe.

It seems that all of us, at different times or other in our lives have been either a cat or a dog.

Today, I am a cat.

I have a plant

Pin It I write this blog because I think somebody needs it.

I have a plant.

I love this plant.

It’s called an Asparagus Fern.

My mom used to own it and I remember it from the time I was just a little boy. When my parents split, I took the plant. I’ve had it for ages. A few years ago my mom told me that I could take the plant out of the pot it was in, and separate the roots. I could then take these parts of the plant and put them into separate pots.

I did this.

The plant began to look sickly and I was afraid it was going to die. For a long time it looked terrible and I wondered if I should throw it out, so I wouldn’t have to watch it wither away.

I didn’t.

I watered it, and kept it in just the right amount of sunlight.

Something amazing happened…it got better. The green returned to its leaves and it started to grow…in both pots. I was thrilled. I now have three plants…two in my house, and one in my classroom.

I think that our lives are an awful lot like this plant. There have been times we’ve been uprooted and “torn apart” so to speak. These are hard times when we just want to give up and toss everything into the trash. But we can’t…we need to keep going. There will be growth again and a feeling of newness, however, it usually takes time.

A few years ago, Amy Grant came out with a song called, “It Takes a Little Time.” My favorite line from this song is:

“It takes a little time sometimes
To get your feet back on the ground
It takes a little time sometimes
To get the titanic turned back around.”

Sometimes we just need to be a little more patient with ourselves.

Life never ceases to amaze me...even with all the strains and adversity, my plant lives.

I love my plant.

Hinckley Viewing

Pin It I drove up to Salt Lake City on Friday the 1st of January. As I did, I felt an overwhelming urge to attend President Gordon B. Hinckley’s viewing at the Conference Center. I drove around Salt Lake until I found a spot to park my car...five blocks or so from my destination. I began to walk, pulling my jacket up around my neck as I greeted the bitter cold gusts of wind. I was alone as I walked and thought of this great man, this prophet of God.

As I neared the Conference Center I found myself in the midst thousands of people who were also there to bid their final farewells to the man who’d made such a great difference in their lives. As I began to walk past the lines circling the building in order to find myself a place in it, I overheard one of the men on duty explaining to the line, “From here, you’re looking at two hours outside and then two more once you get in the building.”

I stood, watching my breath drifting in the air before me and talked on my cell phone to my dad. As I told him about the four hour wait and needing to get up to the Tremonton area, he responded with this:

“You know...if President Hinckley were permitted to speak from beyond, he’d tell you to go, saying something to the effect of: ‘My brothers and sisters, I appreciate and am flattered by your diligence and resolve, standing here in lines around the conference center for my viewing, however, it is much too cold. Please go home. The best way in which you could honor me is to live lives which reflect the life of our Savior, even Jesus Christ. Be the best person you can possibly be.’ ”

It was after this thought that I walked to the nearly-deserted grounds of Temple Square. It was strangely quiet and there were no crowds. I did an awful lot of thinking about the Prophet as I passed the granite walls of the temple. I thought of his words…those he’d given on numerous occasions.:

“You are good. But it is not enough just to be good. You must be good for something. You must contribute good to the world. The world must be a better place for your presence. And the good that is in you must be spread to others.”

“Let us all try to stand a little taller, rise a little higher, be a little better. Make the extra effort. You will be happier. You will know new satisfaction, a new gladness in your heart.”

I hope that we can all incorporate these words into our lives.

The Living Years

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When I turned five years old I got a really cool little puppy for my birthday. He was a half St. Bernard/half Golden Retriever mix (If you’ve ever seen the movie, ‘Beethoven’ you have a basic idea of just how big he really was). We decided to name him Grizzly Bear but we just called him Grizzly or Griz for short. He was a fantastic dog that I played with as a young boy and loved very much.

As the years trudged on and I became older, I began to play less and less with Grizzly. Though I didn’t seem to notice, as I got older, Grizzly did too. But no matter what, he was always there for me, even during a period of time where I pretty much ignored him because I had other things going on in my life. Unfortunately, as he got older he became and sick, and eventually couldn’t walk anymore, his fur was falling out, and he was in pain. We called the Vet who gave us the devastating news that Grizzly had simply grown too old and would need to be put to sleep.

I will never forget the day that the vet came out and gave Grizzly a shot that made him fall asleep. I remember knowing that once he fell asleep that he wouldn’t ever wake up again. As I watched from my bedroom window I thought of all the times I didn’t play with him. I was angry at myself for letting all that time go on and ignoring him until it was too late. We wrapped him in my favorite blanket, one that I’d had since I was four or five and buried him. I felt horrible inside, like I wanted to run and scream and hit something until the pain would go away. I had lost my best friend.

Isn’t it strange that so often we get caught up in life and don’t seem to truly notice our pets, friends, and sometimes even our family? One of the most terrible things that can happen is when we do not truly appreciate someone or something until they are gone. A group called “Mike and the Mechanics” came out with a song nearly twenty years ago entitled “The Living Years”; this song tells the story of a man who never really took the opportunity to tell his dad that he loved him. His dad dies and the man feels a hollow emptiness inside, wishing that he’d told his father how he’d always felt. In the end he basically expresses just how important it is for us to tell the people we love that we love them, while they are still here and so are we.

I guess my point is that it’s easy for us to create memories with others but so often we don’t. The TV set usually wins out over family conversation and long hours at work can consume a lifetime. When we, or a loved one are about to pass on from this life, will we have the right memories to take with us, or will it be reruns of our favorite television programs? I just hope that we can all think of experiences such as these in our lives and remember that the people around us won’t be around forever. In any moment of time they could suddenly be gone...would you have told them everything you’d have wanted to? Would you have spent the time with them, showing them how much you loved them? I think of this too and I realize in writing this that there are several people in my life that I really need to let know that I love them, to tell them that they are important to me, and that I haven’t forgotten them. Sometimes this can be hard when it feels that there is so much demanding our time in regards to school, work, and everyday life around us. It is my hope that we will all take the time to reach out while we are still in our “living years.”

Nothingness

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I have tried to compose a blog several times now, and nothing seems to come. The only line I’ve had thus far is, “Life can change on a dime.” I think that Kathleen Kelly, Meg Ryan’s character in You’ve Got Mail, summed up how I am feeling perfectly when she said,

“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, not small, but circumscribed. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book [or saw in a movie], when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So goodnight, dear void.”

That is it.

Giving Up

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(October 12, 2007)

It is really amazing what life teaches us through what we see around us. As I woke up this morning I was greeted by a beautiful day. I was up immediately and was taking some photographs when I found two trees, side-by-side.

One of these trees was alive and the other was dead. Both had gnarled bark and each was stooped, as if standing straight had been far too much. However, it looked as if one of them had just given up.

It amazes me that both of these trees took different pathways and is still with us, while the other is not.

Is this not a metaphor of life? That there are many around us still in the land of the living, but inside are “dead” because they’ve given up?

As I sit there and gaze at these two trees, I am faced with a daunting question...which of these two am I?