From across this vast Republican empire—from the Alleghenies in the East and the Sierra Nevada in the West; from all around this benighted globe—from the Occident to the Orient, from the Old World to the New; throughout the wide expanse of this and adjacent galaxies—from every teeming orb in the all sidereal heavens; we are inundated by an overflowing deluge of 
complaints. We are chided for our substance (too much tedious talk of law reviews and lawyers, of books and barristers, cabbages and kings); for our style (too florid, ornate, extravagant, bombastic, pompous, pretentious, long-winded, grandiloquent, verbose, baroque—in short, too many big words requiring too many trips to the dictionary); for our presentation (too many words, not enough pictures); for aspersions cast on the most popular series of novels since Pickwick set the English-speaking world aflame 170 years ago; for the unconscionable length of our entries; for our author’s gender (“We want Lia!!!” screamed a recent letter from Uzbekistan).
The cumulative effect is such as to make one feel as one Edward Nares must have felt when it was his bad fortune to have seen his mammoth biography of William Cecil fall before the searing strokes of Macaulay’s pen:
“The work of Dr. Nares has filled us with astonishment similar to that which Captain Lemuel Gulliver felt when first he landed in Brobdingnag, and saw corn as high as the oaks in the New Forest, thimbles as large as buckets, and wrens of the bulk of turkeys. The whole book, and every component part of it, is on a gigantic scale. The title is as long as an ordinary preface: the prefatory matter would furnish out an ordinary book; and the book contains
as much reading as an ordinary library. We cannot sum up the merits of the stupendous mass of paper which lies before us better than by saying that it consists of about two thousand closely printed quarto pages, that it occupies fifteen hundred inches cubic measure, and that it weighs sixty pounds avoirdupois. Such a book might, before the deluge, have been considered as light reading by Hilpa and Shallum. But unhappily the life of man is now three-score years and ten; and we cannot but think it somewhat unfair in Dr. Nares to demand from us so large a portion of so short an existence. Compared with the labour of reading through these volumes, all other labour, the labour of thieves on the treadmill, of children in factories, of negroes in sugar plantations, is an agreeable recreation.”
Time has done nothing to rescue the unfortunate Dr. Nares from the oblivion of
Macaulay’s scorn. But perhaps a grateful posterity will some day defend our illustrious blog against the ingratitude of our contemporaries. In the meantime we proceed, unrepentant, as before.
Monday (September 17): We held Family Home Evening, as per custom and commandment; the rest is silence.
Tuesday (September 18): The ladies went to playgroup and had luncheon with the Sevys. Lia attended her class in Roman Sculpture for the first time, and afterward engaged Eli in a heated dispute about the symbolism of the Ara Pacis.
Wednesday (September 19): Lia played a dirty trick on Julia, casting a reflection on the wall
with the shiny side of a CD and moving it all around, never once making any gesture to dissuade Julia from her firm conviction that she herself was casting the reflection, and doing so with a much nibbled, though hardly dented, apple. In the evening Justin represented the LDS student group at the law school at an interfaith prayer gathering and accompanied our local missionaries on an appointment afterward.
Thursday (September 20): Justin taught Institute for the second time. This time around Lia and the girls came along. Julia behaved herself tolerably well; Eli most decidedly did not. Needless to say, Lia missed most of the lesson. All went to bed much tired.
Friday (September 21): Today marked an epoch in the history of our family from vantages both educational and cultural. In the former regard, the day witnessed the return of Joy School, as Mayah Sevy, Elias Thompson, and Jackson Peacock descended upon our humble abode where
Lia, dressed like a pirate as per the instructions in the Joy School manual, nearly frightened our three guests into an early retreat by emitting an unnecessarily virulent, “ARRRRGHH!” and flashing an unnecessarily menacing hook. Predictably, the schoolhouse (meaning our house) was a bumptious bedlam, though the fearsome foursome were in a high good humour. The highlight of the session was a dramatic representation of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” in which Elias (who through what in some circles is called a ferocious tantrum over the question) played the part of Goldilocks, Jackson the part of Mamma Bear, Mayah the part of “Great Big Daddy Bear,” and Julia that of “Little, Tiny, Baby Bear.” Afterward, Mayah suggested that they now play “Four Horseman,” but the suggestion was aborted after Mayah and Elias fought tooth and claw over the coveted role of “Famine.” Jackson meekly offered to accept the role of “Pestilence, or Destruction, or Death—it doesn’t matter so much to me”—but to no avail. Still, all parties under fifty inches in height were grateful indeed to have Joy School back in session. From the cultural standpoint, the day was notable for Lia’s first iTune purchases (two of them). One of them was a simple ditty of prodigious popularity; Justin had never heard of it, and Lia heard it for the first time only recently—and heard it while placed on hold by AT&T. Liking it, Lia thought first of asking the teller what the name of the song was. Realizing that would be silly, she took the more sensible route of asking to be put back on hold. Which she was. Forever. In any case, Lia has spent the entire weekend humming popular melodies and Justin, desperate to save his puritanical soul, has responded by covering his ears and trumpeting arias from Verdi with stentorian thunder.
Saturday (Saturday 22): Our reluctant advance out from the stone age and into the brave new
world of modern technology continues apace. With heavy heart—nay, with great anguish of spirit—but having received word on good authority that hell had, in fact, frozen over, Justin took the fateful (read accursed, wretched, vile, inconvenient, blasphemous, contemptible, disgraceful, despicable, distasteful, dreadful, appalling, horrible, awful, shameful, degraded, abominable, monstrous, odious, revolting, abhorrent, hateful, loathsome, repugnant, and other adjectives of a stronger, if less printable, caste) step of activating the cell phone that Lia had ordered for him earlier in the week. Why have we thus relented on what we consider a question of the highest principle? Because Justin was told in no uncertain terms by a trusted party that not having a cell phone during the upcoming interview season would be viewed by prospective employers as a social offense and an irrebuttable indicator of incompetence. So a phone he 
now has, if only for the purpose of fielding job offers (or, as the case may more likely be, the gentle tendering of bad news). But lest our readers get the wrong idea, let us here state emphatically that none of you is ever to know the number by which you may reach us via this wretched instrument of oncogeny and bondage. The use of this phone is intended to be—and shall be!—less than limited. So don’t even ask. And don’t post comments saying that you didn’t want our number anyway, however true that may be. We are profoundly unhappy about all of this. A part of us died when that phone went on. Expect the apocalypse any moment now. Morituri te salutant.
complaints. We are chided for our substance (too much tedious talk of law reviews and lawyers, of books and barristers, cabbages and kings); for our style (too florid, ornate, extravagant, bombastic, pompous, pretentious, long-winded, grandiloquent, verbose, baroque—in short, too many big words requiring too many trips to the dictionary); for our presentation (too many words, not enough pictures); for aspersions cast on the most popular series of novels since Pickwick set the English-speaking world aflame 170 years ago; for the unconscionable length of our entries; for our author’s gender (“We want Lia!!!” screamed a recent letter from Uzbekistan).The cumulative effect is such as to make one feel as one Edward Nares must have felt when it was his bad fortune to have seen his mammoth biography of William Cecil fall before the searing strokes of Macaulay’s pen:
“The work of Dr. Nares has filled us with astonishment similar to that which Captain Lemuel Gulliver felt when first he landed in Brobdingnag, and saw corn as high as the oaks in the New Forest, thimbles as large as buckets, and wrens of the bulk of turkeys. The whole book, and every component part of it, is on a gigantic scale. The title is as long as an ordinary preface: the prefatory matter would furnish out an ordinary book; and the book contains
as much reading as an ordinary library. We cannot sum up the merits of the stupendous mass of paper which lies before us better than by saying that it consists of about two thousand closely printed quarto pages, that it occupies fifteen hundred inches cubic measure, and that it weighs sixty pounds avoirdupois. Such a book might, before the deluge, have been considered as light reading by Hilpa and Shallum. But unhappily the life of man is now three-score years and ten; and we cannot but think it somewhat unfair in Dr. Nares to demand from us so large a portion of so short an existence. Compared with the labour of reading through these volumes, all other labour, the labour of thieves on the treadmill, of children in factories, of negroes in sugar plantations, is an agreeable recreation.”Time has done nothing to rescue the unfortunate Dr. Nares from the oblivion of
Macaulay’s scorn. But perhaps a grateful posterity will some day defend our illustrious blog against the ingratitude of our contemporaries. In the meantime we proceed, unrepentant, as before.Monday (September 17): We held Family Home Evening, as per custom and commandment; the rest is silence.
Tuesday (September 18): The ladies went to playgroup and had luncheon with the Sevys. Lia attended her class in Roman Sculpture for the first time, and afterward engaged Eli in a heated dispute about the symbolism of the Ara Pacis.
Wednesday (September 19): Lia played a dirty trick on Julia, casting a reflection on the wall
with the shiny side of a CD and moving it all around, never once making any gesture to dissuade Julia from her firm conviction that she herself was casting the reflection, and doing so with a much nibbled, though hardly dented, apple. In the evening Justin represented the LDS student group at the law school at an interfaith prayer gathering and accompanied our local missionaries on an appointment afterward.Thursday (September 20): Justin taught Institute for the second time. This time around Lia and the girls came along. Julia behaved herself tolerably well; Eli most decidedly did not. Needless to say, Lia missed most of the lesson. All went to bed much tired.
Friday (September 21): Today marked an epoch in the history of our family from vantages both educational and cultural. In the former regard, the day witnessed the return of Joy School, as Mayah Sevy, Elias Thompson, and Jackson Peacock descended upon our humble abode where
Lia, dressed like a pirate as per the instructions in the Joy School manual, nearly frightened our three guests into an early retreat by emitting an unnecessarily virulent, “ARRRRGHH!” and flashing an unnecessarily menacing hook. Predictably, the schoolhouse (meaning our house) was a bumptious bedlam, though the fearsome foursome were in a high good humour. The highlight of the session was a dramatic representation of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” in which Elias (who through what in some circles is called a ferocious tantrum over the question) played the part of Goldilocks, Jackson the part of Mamma Bear, Mayah the part of “Great Big Daddy Bear,” and Julia that of “Little, Tiny, Baby Bear.” Afterward, Mayah suggested that they now play “Four Horseman,” but the suggestion was aborted after Mayah and Elias fought tooth and claw over the coveted role of “Famine.” Jackson meekly offered to accept the role of “Pestilence, or Destruction, or Death—it doesn’t matter so much to me”—but to no avail. Still, all parties under fifty inches in height were grateful indeed to have Joy School back in session. From the cultural standpoint, the day was notable for Lia’s first iTune purchases (two of them). One of them was a simple ditty of prodigious popularity; Justin had never heard of it, and Lia heard it for the first time only recently—and heard it while placed on hold by AT&T. Liking it, Lia thought first of asking the teller what the name of the song was. Realizing that would be silly, she took the more sensible route of asking to be put back on hold. Which she was. Forever. In any case, Lia has spent the entire weekend humming popular melodies and Justin, desperate to save his puritanical soul, has responded by covering his ears and trumpeting arias from Verdi with stentorian thunder.Saturday (Saturday 22): Our reluctant advance out from the stone age and into the brave new
world of modern technology continues apace. With heavy heart—nay, with great anguish of spirit—but having received word on good authority that hell had, in fact, frozen over, Justin took the fateful (read accursed, wretched, vile, inconvenient, blasphemous, contemptible, disgraceful, despicable, distasteful, dreadful, appalling, horrible, awful, shameful, degraded, abominable, monstrous, odious, revolting, abhorrent, hateful, loathsome, repugnant, and other adjectives of a stronger, if less printable, caste) step of activating the cell phone that Lia had ordered for him earlier in the week. Why have we thus relented on what we consider a question of the highest principle? Because Justin was told in no uncertain terms by a trusted party that not having a cell phone during the upcoming interview season would be viewed by prospective employers as a social offense and an irrebuttable indicator of incompetence. So a phone he 
now has, if only for the purpose of fielding job offers (or, as the case may more likely be, the gentle tendering of bad news). But lest our readers get the wrong idea, let us here state emphatically that none of you is ever to know the number by which you may reach us via this wretched instrument of oncogeny and bondage. The use of this phone is intended to be—and shall be!—less than limited. So don’t even ask. And don’t post comments saying that you didn’t want our number anyway, however true that may be. We are profoundly unhappy about all of this. A part of us died when that phone went on. Expect the apocalypse any moment now. Morituri te salutant. 
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18 comments:
I remember the fateful day in college when I relented and became the reluctant owner of a cell phone. I suspect the shock will wear off after a few months.
We love your word-snob blog. Don't change a thing. Cameron feel's your cell phone pain. When the apocalypse comes you can change it in for a urim and thummim. Until then you can treat the cell phone as a trainer.
My interest is tremendously stirred! So many questions have been raised in this shorter than average Collings Family Update! What is the phone number? Why didn't you take a movie of Lia's terrifying pirate rendition? And the question I am most dying to have answered: what song could possibly be so fantastic as to cause Lia to spend 99 cents on an itunes download instead of sitting by the radio with cassette loaded and finger waiting anxiously on the record button?
I must be of a different breed. I, with thanks overflowing, accepted my first cell phone. My battle cry has only been louder and more fierce since.
I'm hesitant to divulge what the song was because when I mentioned this to my WYLS friends on a hike we took on Saturday they burst into hysterical laughter at my cultural ignorance. But, since this blog is in the business of trying to make people laugh, I guess I shouldn't hesitate to announce the melody in question was none other than "Hey There, Delilah". Ah, I can hear the shrieks of merriment clear in Connecticut.
I'm relieved to see that someone shares my dislike of so wretched an instrument as the cell phone. Why, in an age when members of society complain about not having enough time to themselves, would someone want to carry around a tracking device? We understand and forgive your need to carry said device, and want to reassure you that we recognize the good intent of your hearts, rather than the phone in Justin's pocket, as being indicative of the nature of the real Collings family.
I feel compelled to confess that we own 2 prepaid nokia phones. Whew, I feel better.
My father in law firmly believes that cell phones are the first step in our becoming the Borg. Good luck with that.
Tracking device? Oh, the Govs already taken care of that by sticking rfid chips in all new passports. Atleast you can choose to "ignore" with a cell phone.
You all realize that you don't have to answer every call, right? A portable phone is extremely convenient. Or, is this another battle of the intellectuals? If its mainstream its not us!
jk
The fact that your blog has generated such an abundance of comments before it has been posted for 24 hours must say something . . . you must really have an intergalactic readership. Or perhaps it's just the heated controversy over modern technology. It seems that everybody has an opinion.
Hey there Delilah...you probably won't be surprised to know that we like that song too! We didn't go as far as to buy it though. Annie did!
We are so excited to hear that hiring season is approaching. Please keep us posted as the offers come pouring in. Accept any offer in the San Francisco Bay Area!
Joy School sounds so much fun too. I am going to have to look into that. No, it's not because I want to dress up like a pirate either.
Do you guys even have an answering machine? Did you get a sleek and stylish Razor phone? That would be funny! My question is if everyone hates cell phones then why does everyone HAVE cell phones? It's like people that say they hate WalMart, but then go there to get their $4 prescriptions every month. P.S. I hate WalMart. Do NOT get me started! :)
Lia-I love the long hair AND the Yale sweatpants!
Beau likes that song, too, Lia. It's Davy's favorite--or has been at one point in the past. Justin, you can take advanced courses from Caci and Trevor on cell phone use. Like "How Not to Answer Your Cell Phone 401" and "How Not to Allow Your Cell Phone to Become a Tracking Device 525". I think they actually wrote the text books themselves. What is the name of the second tune? Check out two new family blogs: kinsisuttner.blogspot.com and sisterjinisuttner.blogspot.com. Caci and Trevor created Jini's website. Cool, huh? Love you, nin
Joseph Smith possessed natively two fundamental qualities of great leadership. First, he was a good judge of men. Always he picked out and placed men with an eye on their natural ability. Occasionally he misplaced his confidence, as in the case of John C. Bennett and the Law brothers, but, even then, it was his feelings, not his judgment of their ability, that were at fault. With unerring skill he could put his finger on men's strong points, and if they had any weakness, as most of them did, he could place his finger on that, too.
Oliver Cowdery, the two Pratts, Sidney Rigdon, Edward Partridge, Frederick G. Williams, Orson Hyde, and John Corrill in the earliest group, and Brigham Young, John Taylor, Wilford Woodruff, Heber C. Kimball, the two Spencers, and many others of lesser light in the second group were an asset to any cause. The Prophet never had confidence in the trustworthiness of men like John C. Bennett, although he sometimes used them to accomplish his ends.
Joseph Smith, an American Prophet
John Henry Evans
Hello Collings Clan,
A couple thoughts as I procrastinate by reading blogs--that you would like the short stories of Hector Hugh Munro (better known as Saki) if you don't already, and that cell phones are mostly only good when traveling (my flight is late, don't pick me up yet) and when courting long distance (n.a. to you). And we're hiring a fellow to clear out the rocks and brambles and misc. tree-like weeds in our yard beginning monday--the vegetable garden won't be touched.
Eva
Lia, the first time I heard that song, I thought of you--honest! I just knew you'd appreciate it. Kaitlyn is protesting any more comments I might have made. Bye. :)
Your unrepentant claims are inconsistent with the fact that this post was sprinkled with pictures! I LOVE THEM! What beautiful girls! We're pretty behind the times on cell phones...
Oncogenesis resulting from portable phone use has yet to be conclusively proven...
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