Part II: Journey

If there’s one thing I love, it’s a road trip. If there’s one thing Jenny hates, it’s a road trip.

It only took 2 blocks for me to shake off the gray mood blanketing our departing family. The trip ahead would be 18 hours, and we planned to tackle it in two days. Fortunately, Cleveland is only Cleveland; the snow and suffocating clouds broke about half an hour out, never to reappear the rest of our trip.

We drove to Nashville TN that day. The kids were awesome, despite the fact that I accidentally packed their travel toys in the moving van, and despite the fact that our travel DVD player kept shorting out.

The next morning we drove down to Memphis TN. First on our itinerary was Graceland—to drive by Graceland, not to pay and actually see Graceland. When our perceptive kids noticed that we were driving through city traffic and not on the highway, they asked where we were going.

Jenny: We’re going to go see Elvis’ house.

Madison: Who’s Elvis?

Logan: Madison! (As if she could not ask a more obvious question.) You know, “Elvis and the Chipmunks!”

Unfortunately, Graceland isn’t much to see unless you break down and pay to get in.

So instead, we went to The Peabody Hotel to watch the world-famous Duckwalk. The Peabody is Southern fixture, extremely elegant with lots of history. Decades ago a hotel employee, a former Barnum and Bailey worker, trained some ducks to walk from their roost on the roof, ride the elevator down to the lobby, and walk from the elevator door to a large fountain in the middle of the lobby.


(note: the jackets were completely unnecessary, but we were only a day out of Cleveland, so please excuse us.)




Sounds uneventful?

It was, a little.

But, for some reason, at least 100 people lined up on the edge of the red carpet the ducks walk to witnesses the feat. Because there’s so much pomp and circumstance, it was actually kind of cool. The kids, at least, enjoyed it.

The rest of the day was spent cruising through Arkansas. If anyone ever has a chance, I highly recommended Hot Springs.

Finally, we crossed into Texas. Jenny swears she can’t tell the difference, but for me, as soon as I cross that state line, a euphoric rush breezes through me. It’s amazing. Jenny just slept.

Part I: Departure

(Warning: Long Post)

In 1812 at the height of his power, Napoleon Bonaparte blitzed into Russia with nearly 800,000 troops and quickly captured Moscow. The Russians responded by burning their spiritual capital to deprive the French of winter quarters. The French limped home under smothering Russian cannonades. The once-proud Napoleon returned bruised and humiliated with less than 40,000 soldiers.

While I’m not Emperor of the World, I couldn’t help but compare my time in Cleveland to Napoleon’s disaster each time I climbed the frozen ramp into our ABF trailer. I came to this town having matriculated into a good law school, getting a coveted job at a respectable firm, and I had a hot wife. But there I was, my frozen fingers dragging my pride into a moving van, one box at a time.

Our trailer arrived on Tuesday, January 3rd. An impressive number of brethren from the ward showed up that night to cart out our embarrassingly large amount junk. (If anyone is wondering: Joe likes to throw things away, Jenny likes to keep things just in case we need it in the future, even if the likelihood of needing it is remote.) Molly Huang was kind enough to watch our hoodlums during the load-in.

Jenny was primarily in charge of packing things into boxes, and I packed those boxes into the trailer. This division of labor generally worked well, except that Jenny accidentally packed my underclothing in a dresser that got placed at the very front of the trailer. It wasn’t a very cool week for me.

On Wednesday night the Garn and Julie Smiths brought us a dinner—a wonderfully scrumptious dinner. On Thursday night the Jason and Bridi Waites invited us over for another amazing meal.

Thursday was Logan’s and Madi’s last day of school. At the end of the day, Logan’s close friend, Gavin, painted a picture and gave it to Logan, instructing him to put it in a place where Logan could see it every day to remember him by. The farewell was accompanied by five hugs. Another girl was in tears.

Friday morning came. We loaded up our air mattresses and travel items into our van. We called ABF and had them pick up our trailer. (Turns out we needed two extra feet, for which ABF did not charge us the extra $150.) We drove away to say a few more goodbyes around town.

Then we pulled back up to the house to give it one more farewell. We stared—speechless—at this house we loved, this neighborhood we prized, at a backyard that would never again see our kids kick a soccer ball in it, and into a large front window that will never fill with three children smiling back at me as I come home from work.

I didn’t expect to leave this way. I came to conquer, and I leave conquered. But what’s important is that I am leaving with what’s most important: my family.

Turning a Page

Today was my last Sunday here in Cleveland. It wasn't eventful in the least.

In some ways, it will not be that difficult to leave Cleveland. In almost every way, I was not a good fit for this place. But I look back on my brief time here and I'm amazed at what I've learned about myself.

I've learned that life is not worth living if you can't do what you are passionate about. There is simply no dollar value that compensates for meaningful engagement in the workplace. To those that have yet to learn this painful reality, I'm sorry.

I've also learned that I need to be less judgmental. Jennifer is great at this. I am not. I have found so much happiness opening up my heart to those that think no one is paying attention. Comfort is being loved; true happiness is loving others. My mind tends to think in business terms, and I'm amazed at how high the ROI (Return on Investment) is on service and kindness to others.

Similarly, I've learned to accept service. Here in Cleveland I've been touched by small acts of kindness towards me and my family. I hesitate to mention anything because so many have been so thoughtful, but two instances that come to mind are when Laura Welch threw a baby shower for Jenny. Laura learned that even though Jenny was the mother of three, no one had ever thrown her a baby shower. So Laura did, even though there was no baby. Also, when I was gone for an extended period of time this summer, some anonymous friends came by and manicured our back yard. I really hate the anonymous part of that because I have this burning need to repay someone. But that's probably the point--I need to repay everyone.

I've also come to the conclusion that I'm pretty soft. I don't cry very often (unless Jenny is being mean to me), but I swear, I get that lump in my throat so easy nowadays. Usually, its things like Extreme Makeover Home Edition or a personal interest story on ESPN where a football team goes out of their way to ease the pain some kid with leukemia. But it's also when Logan explains a gospel principle he learned in Primary, or Madi shares with a friend, or Grant pulls my hair. And it's also when I think about how lucky I am to have blindfolded Jenny into marrying me. I am seriously the luckiest man alive. Almost by definition, though, that makes her the least luckiest woman alive. Regardless, I find myself swallowing down that lump pretty often as life continues to touch my heart at an ever-increasing pace. I hope that sensitivity is a sign of maturity.

I've also started graying here in Cleveland, by the way.

I've learned other things (like useless facts in all the history books and narrative non-fiction I read and that Jenny insists are as dry as shredded wheat, no milk), but these are the few things I've decided to share on a sleepy Sunday afternoon. If you have made it this far in the post, my apologies.

Oh, and I won't miss the snow.

Cleveland, adios. It's back to the land of lower taxes, unhealthier food, slower speaking, and George Strait.

Que le vaya bien,

Joseph McGregor

Merry Christmas!

and just for fun:

Graham Cracker Houses

Last Monday our friends, the Garn and Julie Smiths, invited over for FHE to make some graham cracker houses.



Here, the whole gang is making their respective houses.


Joe's house.


Julie Smith's house.


The kids and their houses.


This is Grant's house. Grant used more candy than other kid, but none of it made it on his house. Rather, it went straight into his mouth. And when the candy ran out, he disassembled his house and started eating the walls of the house. Maybe he'll get it next year.

Our Little Princess

In this picture, Madison is featuring a present she made in her Pre-K class. Her classmates crafted their presents for their parents.

Madison informed us that we would not be the recipients of her present; instead, the beneficiaries of her skillful art would be her grandparents.

"Why don't I get the present?" Jenny inquired.

"Because your present is that you get to see me every day. They don't."

Sockgate Part II

So I posted earlier today about how Grant couldn't keep his socks on. When I gave the little stinker (quite literally) a bath tonight, he wouldn't take them off.

I have a cold, and can't smell a thing. Grant had just had his diaper changed, so it didn't occur to me--or my nose--that he could be dirty . . . again. So I stripped him down to his socks and diaper. To my surprise, Grant had a dirty.

I ignored the socks still on his feet and rushed to clean his bottom. While I was disposing of the wipes, he climbed right into the tub. Socks and all.

The Sock Monster

Grant has been loosing socks. Granted, his socks are small, so we thought that perhaps they were getting stuck in the dryer, or hiding in someone's shirt sleeve.

Yesterday Jenny put a fully socked Grant down for an afternoon nap. When she returned, he didn't have socks on (but he did have a smile). She jerked the sheets a few times to hopefully toss out the socks. Nothing.

"Granty, where are your socks?"

The devil pointed to the back of his crib. Jenny pulled the crib back a foot, and lo and behold, Jenny didn't just find Grant's socks. She found a whole hive of socks.

Happy Thanksgiving

Sorry that we don't update the blog very often. Jenny insists there's little going on in our lives worth posting about. She's probably right.

But this Thanksgiving we made it out to Jenny's family in PA. As you long-time readers of our blog will remember, I absolutely love the beauty of western Pennsylvania, and enjoy our trips out there. Highlights this year included:

1. Jenny's brother and sister each brought their fiancees home (both couples are getting married towards the end of the year). That was an interesting experience.

2. We shot guns. As noted elsewhere, I'm a little concerned that my father-in-law is teaching my wife to aim a gun. She does, though, look pretty sexy when aiming a shotgun. Just saying . . . .




3. There was tons of stuffing at the Thanksgiving dinner. And unlike my family, there were no rice and beans beside the Turkey.

4. New Moon. The entire family went to see the audition to determine if we would join Team R-Patz or Team Jacob. For both Jenny and I, it was clearly Jacob.

Some Halloween Fun

On Halloween night Logan and I utilized our Coldstone Creamery birthday passes.




Some dudes in Cleveland spent the last year assembling these replicas of Optimus Prime and Bumblebee. Logan is way into Transformers, so we had to drive out and see.

Hot Stuff

On our way back from our latest foray into the wilderness (to visit Jenny's family), we passed this:

The Get Up Kids

On October 23, I finally got to see probably my favorite band, The Get Up Kids, play at Cleveland's House of Blues. I enjoy their swift blend of punk/hardcore melodies. To me, they were the last band of an entire genre. The modern day "emo" scene is disgraceful.

My mother-in-law forced me to go.

The first few songs playing on this blog are TGUK. Check 'em out.