We Have ANOTHER Winner!

Yes, we did say the essay contest was over and Mark was the winner. Only Todd Hendricks would be so audacious as to send in an entry anyway. But, as usual, he's written something that makes us bust up laughing, and since he's able to get himself here before we vacate the place, he now becomes the keeper of the prize. And we win too, of course, because we get a visit from Todd and Hilary next week--some of our favorite people!

And now, the essay . . .

Disclaimer: With a billion official Indian languages to choose from, ranging from Urdu to Telugu, I have chosen to write my essay in Assamese.

Essay for Todd J. Hendricks

It’s true that I haven’t ever imagined myself in India, which is very odd since India and its beliefs have shaped so much of my life. I have the Bhagavad Gita on my bookshelf. I haven’t read it, but I understand it’s an important book. I know that Gandhi is an epic movie. I haven’t watched that either. But I am practicing Indian-style recovery to help me after the epic, 14-hour plane flight: I do yoga at Gold’s Gym. (Since Rich knows how inflexible I used to be, I’ve included a picture of me in bridge pose.)

I guess India’s biggest influence on my life was Mr. K. Donald Cobain, a modern-day holy man. Mr. Cobain lived in Seattle, where he sent out his influence worldwide, specifically with a brilliant album titled “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” This from an organization named after a serious Hindu value: Nirvana.

So choose me, vote for me, pay for me to go to India for the following reasons:

I understand the culture. As soon as I started working in corporate America, I could relate to the caste system. Having been on the bottom with no chance of reaching the top, I would like to go over and network with others in my situation. Perhaps even more fascinating, I would like to meet those who will be taking my job when it’s outsourced. I have also heard in the business world (perhaps more times than there are people in India) the term “sacred cow.” That, alone, should prove my understanding of the culture.

I enjoy a change of scenery. It seems that with America you should be able to see something different if you travel from the Pacific coast to the Atlantic coast, but now it’s all the same. Fat Americans everywhere you go. Obese dads, sedentary moms, chubby kids. Fat, fat, fat! I know this isn’t the case in India. Gandhi for example—skinny. So skinny clothes wouldn’t fit and he had to wear a bed sheet. Then there’s the iconic Mother Theresa. She was just the cutest nun ever, although I still get confused if it was she or Michael Jackson who said, “I’m a lover not a fighter.” Anyway, I love panoramic, scenic variety. Bring on the skinny people!

I’m not intimidated. There is a reason I’m not intimidated to travel to India: I know the magic words. In foreign travel, all you have to do is speak loudly, “Do you know I’m American?” This carries a subtle, but easily understood threat. Something along the lines of, “You know how George W. Bush messed up the supreme court? Don’t make me call him to do the same thing to you!”

I can forgive Rich. This has been a dark hole, a specter, if you will, in my soul. It just didn’t seem right that Rich should enjoy a childhood plus a young adulthood plus adulthood where he had a maid, a housekeeper, and a chauffeur. Where was my maid to do my laundry? This trip will compensate for my unrealized desire to be waited upon hand and foot. And as a bonus, I’ll throw in extra forgiveness about that remark from Rich’s sister that I looked like an elf with my pointy ears, and also from his friend who said she felt like she was in Munchkin Land because all of us but Rich were lucky to push past 4 feet tall wearing Doc Martins. (Hint: This section alone should convince Rich to choose me.)

I have passion. One of the repeated aspirations of the late Jonathan Gemmill was to fund the entire construction of a building on the Brigham Young University campus. It was to be named the Spencer Harris Institute of Technology. Similar to that, I have a passionate dream. There is nothing I would enjoy more than casually dropping (to everyone I come in contact with), “Yes, I won an essay contest. And in so doing, I received a trip to India. It was magnificent. You should go there. Really.” I will deliver that line over and over again in a slow, cadenced, sincere, somewhat folksy, somewhat sorry-for-you-that-you-can’t-even-write-and-will-never-see-India tone.

I won’t act like a tourist. While the majority of visitors will be shopping for spoons with the shape of India at the top or trawling around for miniature Taj Mahals, I will pursue scientific journeys. I will bring home a vial of the Ganges river to see if anything can really be more vile than Utah Lake. Then I will intimately experience the miracles of science as my body becomes a breeding ground for parasites. (Do you have the Nitazoxanide treatment at your place?)

I recognize a great deal. While we all know I mentally scraped by to graduate with my MBA and I still find nearly all things to do with math fuzzy, Rich and Merinda gave me a story problem I could solve:

Free airfare + Free room and board < The price of gas, rice, and electricity in America

In this case, less than is a good thing. I promise, if you choose me as your house guest you will fully realize the meaning of your essay contest. I will be yours. Truly.

To quote Pedro, “Vote for me and your wildest dreams will come true.”

And as a bonus:

Two-for-one deal.

A vote for Todd Hendricks is a vote for Hilary Hendricks. Hilary would love to see something beyond Utah County since she married a dud who moved her to Spanish Fork. Not only do Todd and Hilary have their own passports, Hilary could pay for all of her expenses and keep Todd adequately medicated for a pleasant experience for all. And she would ensure that Todd and Rich would not bore everyone with “Remember when . . .” stories from college. Hilary would also like to write and photograph a story about Primary kids in India for Friend magazine—Is that a 3-for-1 deal?

And as a bonus on top of a bonus:

Todd and Hilary would even bring home an extra suitcase full of Cutler housewares. To our house or yours? If it’s great stuff, we may call to let you know Delta has yet again “lost” your baggage.