The One with Batman.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #5: "All music is beautiful." - Billy Strayhorn

I know that it's an ongoing argument among some people about when Christmas music should be played, but I'm definitely one of those people who doesn't really care when I hear it. I appreciate it at anytime.

I do tend to leave it for around this time of year, just to keep the excitement of it. This year was different. The show I'm in right now is A Christmas Carol, so Christmas music has been a part of my daily playlist since September. And I'm more than okay with that.

Yesterday was STRESSFUL thanks to my impeccable procrastination skills. From 8 AM until 7 PM, I was going non-stop trying to fix problems I'd made for myself. I was in a pretty sour mood, honestly.

But last night as I was watching rehearsal, the music of A Christmas Carol acted as a medicine for my tension. I couldn't stop smiling. I'd be crazy not to be entirely grateful for that.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #6: "Do or do not. There is no try." - Yoda

It's probably pretty clear that the LDS culture is not as prominent in Texas as it is in the Western part of the United States. For one thing, church meetinghouses are few and far between. The closest ward to my house is about 20 miles from my house and takes about 30 minutes to get there.

In addition to the sparsity of the church buildings, instead of high school students having time set aside in the actual class curriculum actually attended early-morning seminary. My seminary class started at 6:10 AM, so with the travel time and the time it took to get ready for the day, I was up at 4:45 AM every Monday through Friday for all four years of high school. It's not hard to believe that on most days, I felt like this... But one person made it worth it.

I met Adam West when I was 14 or 15 years old, when he was my Sunday school teacher. He and his beautiful wife, Susie, had just moved into the ward. Adam West brought a freshness to Sunday school that I didn't really know how to handle at that age. After a very short while, I recognized what I was feeling as fun mixed with learning. I looked forward to Sunday school every time and was so sad when the year was over and I was no longer in his class.

So, when he was called as the seminary teacher, I could have sprung right through the ceiling with joy.

He made coming to a class at 6:10 AM so special. He always showed up so bright-eyed and happy and excited to teach us... which made us all excited to learn.

When someone would start to fall asleep, he threw a pencil at him or her. He made Scripture Mastery Friday hilarious with his contests. He had the best impersonation of Yoda and would often quote, "Do or do not. There is no try." He told the most incredible stories about his conversion, his life, his family, his dreams, his aspirations.

During the day, Adam West (whom we often called Batman) was a professional motivational speaker. He attended conferences and influenced the lives of the people who listened to him talk. He truly was a force to be reckoned with. He brought a confidence with him wherever he went, as well as the most tender heart you could imagine. I'm not kidding. I have never known anyone as kind.

Occasionally, Batman would invite his students to his "bat cave" for a party. We were able to get to know him even better, as well as his sweet wife and his twin baby girls. It became a bit of a family bond with him; we really couldn't help it.

The most altering moments of the relationship I shared with Adam West was in the moments after seminary class, though, when I would feel so inclined to stay and ask him questions and pick his brain about life. I was a troubled high-schooler... ask anyone who had to deal with me. Adam's insights, his opinions, his stories, and his faith were so honest that he always seemed to say just the right thing, even if it wasn't really what I wanted to hear. He became a dear, dear friend and an excellent mentor.

I graduated from seminary in 2005 and moved away to college in 2006. I came home for a little while in 2006 and spent one of my evenings at his home with him and his sweet family. I made dinner at his house and spent hours there talking to he and his wife and playing with Savannah and Olivia. During this little get-together, I remember him saying, "Angela, you are meant to do great things." I know it sounds like a cliché statement, but that was the first time anyone had said anything like that to me. I was adamant to prove him right. I am adamant to prove him right. He believed in my abilities unlike anyone I'd ever known. I have never, ever forgotten those few words.

Then, I got a phone call from my mom in September of 2008. I remember where I was walking on-campus and that I stopped dead in my tracks when my mom said the words, "Adam West passed away today."

I knew he had been battling cancer, but because I was so far away, I really had no idea how bad it was getting. When I'd first heard he was sick, I felt like I needed to write him a letter telling him how grateful I was for his guidance through so many of my hardships and the support I had from him. So... I did. I wrote the letter, I put it in an envelope.

And I never sent it.

I didn't take the time to address the envelope and stamp it. Ten seconds of my life and I could've expressed appreciation for my own real-life... well, pardon the cheesiness... superhero.

I came across the letter last night and re-read it. It is several pages long and written in purple pen. As I read it, I started to beat myself up about never sending it. Then, I felt such warmth in my heart for this man. He changed so many lives; he helped so many people... just by being himself. I put the letter back in it's weathered envelope and had the overwhelming feeling wash over me: he knows exactly what that letter says.