It's Aug, 31. It's Kimball Memory Time.

Back in the good old days when BYU-Idaho was brand spankin' new, and Hogi Yogi was around for delicious sandwiches and frozen yougart, my brother Kimball and I spent a lot of time together.  We mostly were at his apartment because my apartment was not that cool.  Sure we'd go to our classes, but for the most part, we preferred to make our college expereince fun.

I probably got a little too wrapped up in the fun and not so much in the college.  Thank goodness, my brother was my best friend and my "person" because there was a little rough patch, if you will, that I had to get through, and without him there for me, things could have been ugly.

It was the end of the semester.  Some people refer to it as "crunch time".  I was taking mostly English classes.  World Literature (It might have been worth majoring in something else, even if I did have to take math or science!) was so hard.  Thankfully, the library was stocked with most of the plays and videos so I didn't have to read so much (who has time for that??)  Also, back in those days I had discovered a little website full of cliff notes, essay ideas, and summaries of several pieces of literature.  It saved me a time or two.

However, there was no website to bail me out of the other English class I was taking.  I can't remember which one it was, I just remember there was a lot of writing.  Argumentive essays.  Analytical essays.  Persuasive essays.  Narrative essays.  Then little things, like cover letters and resume's.  There was a big ol' section on the movie The Truman Show.  Another essay about that.  Not to mention all of these things had to be written in MLA style, using cited sources that were assigned (like you have to use a magazine or a newspaper, or an encyclopedia etc.) .

Let's just say, this class was so overwhelming that it never really had a place on my priority list.  Okay?  We'll all belive that.

It just so happens that I got to the point where I had get a B on the final or else I wouldn't exactly pass the class with flying colors...get what I'm saying?

Turns out, MLA was a little more foreign to me than I thought.  Also, there's proof that I don't like arguing.  I didn't get the B on the final.  No biggie, right?  I could just retake the class.  Well, except there's this thing called "My parents are going to find out and since they are helping me pay for these credits, they aren't going to be happy about having to pay for that class again especially because I didn't try my super duper best."

So, yeah, there was that.

After I got off the phone with my parents and told them the news, I was feeling pretty down.  I might have been bawling.  I didn't have anywhere to go except to Kimball's apartment.  It was already past curfew, so I knew I wouldn't be able to go inside his apartment, but I needed to talk to someone.

I walked up to his apartment, and the front door was wide open.  He and his roommates were all sitting in the family room playing video games (because please, why would they need to be studying?   Haha!), and before I could even make my presence known, Kimball looked up, saw me standing there, eyes all red and swollen, and he jumped off that couch so fast and came outside (shut the door behind him) and put his arms around me and just let me cry for another few minutes.  He asked me what was wrong.  I told him I failed my class.  I rattled off a few things about how I wasn't good enough to be there, etc.  He stopped me and told me that my grades didn't dertmine who I was or what I was worth.  We talked well into the night, and then he walked me back to my aprtment.

Today, if he were here, he would turn 40 years old.  I can't beleive the number of times I have felt like I needed to talk to him.  I have wanted to talk to him.  I could tell him anything and know that he wouldn't judge me, and that he'd give me encouragement in the exact way I needed it.

This picture is only appropriate here because we're "beefing up" an essay.  See how much we love essays?

Sorry about the blur...it's a picure of a picture.  But seriously, this guy was sidekick for years.  Who else just takes model pictures with their kid sister?  Plus, his shirt says "BEAT I.F." with a tiger in a circle with the slash through it.  I wish we would have kept that shirt.

Taking selfies before selfies were even cool.  #cameratimer

I'm grateful that I know what I do about life, death, and life after death. 

Thankfully I also have my parents and 6 other siblings that I can rely on for needed pep talks.  I  have needed a few over the years.