Taking Camilla to college

Journal excerpts from ten years ago recounting a family trip that we (Mary, Eliza, Camilla, Anna, Claudia, and I) took to Washington, D.C., and to Virginia, where we deposited Camilla at Southern Virginia College (now Southern Virginia University) in Buena Vista.

Friday, August 18, 2000
Utah, Texas, Maryland, Virginia

Our adventure began at 7:00 this morning as Cade and Michael each drove three of us to the airport. We checked Camilla's luggage, got our boarding passes, and went to the gate to wait. While there we saw Monte and Ann Stewart, who were on their way to their son's wedding reception in Atlanta and were on our same flight to Houston. We had not seen them since they returned from presiding over the Georgia Atlanta Mission in 1997 and had missed the Orem reception last Saturday evening because we had been busy with Carrie Bertasso's wedding luncheon and with getting Camilla ready to go off to school.

At 8:30 our Continental flight left on time for Houston. The ticket lady at the gate used to live in Monte and Ann's ward and had upgraded them to first class. Just as we were boarding, Monte kindly gave his seat to Claudia and came back to sit with Mary, Eliza, and me. Camilla and Anna were in other rows further back. Just before boarding, I called Rich Hogan in Houston to tell him we'd be laying over there for three hours. He said he'd try to come to the airport to visit us but either missed us or was unable to come.

We were served breakfast on our three-hour flight to Houston, bought lunch during our three-hour layover, and had dinner on our three-hour flight to Baltimore. We were late leaving Houston and late arriving in Baltimore. It was just before dark as we touched down and had been raining. Our luggage had come on an earlier flight and was already waiting for us. Too bad we hadn't come with it.

We picked up our rental car, a Plymouth Voyager, and drove south on I–95, west and south on I–495 (past the Washington D.C. Temple that looms above the trees like it's floating in the air), and east on I–66 to our Comfort Inn in the Ballston area of Arlington. A long day of travel.

Saturday, August 19, 2000
Virginia, District of Columbia

We ate our continental breakfast at the motel and around 9:30 or so walked about six blocks to the Metro station (the Ballston stop on the orange line) and took the Metro into Washington D.C. We disembarked at the Smithsonian station, which put us right on the National Mall. It cost us $13.20 for six round-trip fares.

Our first stop along the Mall was the Smithsonian Museum of American History, where we saw an original sun stone from the Nauvoo Temple, the restoration project on the Star Spangled Banner (the giant flag that flew over Baltimore's Fort McHenry during the War of 1812 that inspired Francis Scott Key to write the words to what is now our national anthem), a large statue of George Washington in a Roman toga, and an extensive exhibit on our country's First Ladies.

We crossed to the other side of the Mall to catch a noon performance tour of Piano 300, celebrating the 300th anniversary of the piano. We saw the very first pianoforte built in 1700 and numerous other pianos from the intervening years. Mari Paz, a Cuban lady who in Mexico City became an accomplished pianist, was our delightful tour guide and played a variety of songs from different eras and countries on the various pianos, ending on a rhinestone-studded piano built for Liberace. We thoroughly enjoyed this exhibit.

We returned to the Main Street Cafes, the cafeteria in the basement level of the American History Museum, and ate outside in view of the Washington Monument. The weather all day was very pleasant, partly cloudy, a gentle breeze, ideal for an August day. We wandered through a little more of the museum, visiting the pop culture exhibit, where we saw the Ruby Slippers Judy Garland wore in the 1939 movie The Wizard of Oz and a quilt exhibit. We shopped in the museum bookstore.

Next we crossed the Mall again and walked clear down toward the U.S. Capitol to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, where we saw the Wright Brothers' original plane they flew at Kitty Hawk, touched a piece of the moon, viewed Mission to MIR in the IMAX theater (the first time any of us except Anna had seen an IMAX presentation), saw the Spirit of St. Louis that first crossed the Atlantic, and walked by numerous other planes and rockets and capsules that illustrate the history of flight during this past marvelous century.

We were tired of walking by now and should reasonably have called it a day but decided to walk down to the Washington Monument and then beyond clear down to the Lincoln Memorial. From the Washington Monument, you can see the U.S. Capitol to the east, the White House to the north, and the Lincoln Memorial to the west. From the Lincoln Memorial, which I personally find one of the most inspirational sites in Washington, we visited the Korean War Veterans Memorial and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Then walk, walk, walk some more along 23rd Street to I Street, past the Department of State and George Washington University, to catch the Metro at the Foggy Bottom station and return to Virginia. Our walking was not quite through yet: we still had to walk the eight blocks from the Ballston station to our Comfort Inn. We estimate we may have walked 5 miles today. We drove in the minivan to find a place to eat and did so at a place called Diner 29.

Sunday, August 20, 2000
Virginia

We awoke early, ate breakfast in the motel, and took off for Lynchburg. It was a beautiful three-hour drive, first west along I–66 and mostly south on U.S. 29, which was marked as the Seminole Trail, the 29th Infantry Memorial Highway, and for part of the way the James Madison Highway. The only major city we passed was Charlottesville.

In Lynchburg we stopped at a Hardee's for lunch, using the occasion to teach Mary what the phrase "Ox in the mire" meant. Then we drove to church to attend meetings in the Lynchburg First Ward, where we were warmly welcomed. Larry Young's brother, Roger, is the bishop. His wife, Sue, is the gospel doctrine teacher in Sunday School. Camilla met Josh Lloyd, who will also be a freshman at Southern Virginia College.

We went to the Youngs' home afterward for dinner and spent several delightful hours visiting with them. They have five children, an older married daughter who lives in Layton and who is expecting their third grandchild, a son returning from the Brazil Recife Mission in less than three weeks, a 17-year-old Eric, a 15-year-old Brett, and an 11-year-old Jenny.

We went and found our Comfort Inn, where the four girls stayed in one room and Claudia and I in another. We called several people back home: Claudia in Bountiful (Kay was sustained today as first coun­selor in the 36th Ward bishopric), Shauna in Layton (Michael left today for a week in Boston), Rebecca in Layton (she returned home yesterday from girls camp), Rachael in Kansas City, and Talmage and Carisa's answering machine in Bountiful.

Monday, August 21, 2000
Virginia

Our Comfort Inn served a full hot breakfast, which we weren't overly impressed with. We took our time getting going and even watched most of the musical Oklahoma! on TV, which Camilla had never seen before.

We drove east from Lynchburg on U.S. 460, somewhere between 20 or 30 miles, to Appomattox Court House National Historic Park, the site where Union General Ulysses S. Grant and Confederate General Robert E. Lee ended the Civil War in April 1865.

We then drove back to Lynchburg, ate lunch at a Subway, filled the car with gas (at $1.29 a gallon, the cheapest we'd seen on the trip), and followed U.S. 501, a winding, scenic highway over the Blue Ridge Mountains to Buena Vista.

Southern Virginia College is situated in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains on a promi­nent hill overlooking the town of Buena Vista. We stopped at Main Hall, where Camilla will be living on the fourth floor. It was built in the late 1800s as a resort hotel and in 1900 was purchased by Southern Virginia Seminary, a two-year women's college. A few years ago the failing seminary was purchased by a group of eastern LDS businessmen and turned it into what is now Southern Virginia College.

We wandered around the campus and then drove up and down the streets of Buena Vista, trying to get a feel for the town of 6,000-some people.

We drove over to Lexington, about six miles away, at the intersection of I–64 and I–81, and found the Comfort Inn that will be our home for the next three nights. We ate at the Shoney's res­taurant next door.

Tuesday, August 22, 2000
Virginia

Another slow start. Breakfast at this motel is served until 10:30, and we didn't go until the final half hour.

A little before noon we headed north through the beautiful Shenandoah Valley on I–81 and east on I–64 to Shenandoah National Park. We drove about 25 miles along the Skyline Drive, penetrating maybe a fourth of the way along the 105-mile length of the park. Anna and Eliza hiked nearly two miles along the Appalachian Trail, which winds 1,000-plus miles from Georgia to Maine. The rest of us drove to the next parking area that intersected with the trail, and I hiked back toward Anna and Eliza while Claudia, Camilla, and Mary waited in the car.

At Loft Mountain Wayside we stopped for milkshakes, bought postcards and CDs, and took a bathroom break. Then we retraced our route back out of the park and continued south on the Blue Ridge Parkway until it intersected with U.S. 60, which we took the final few miles into Buena Vista. We went to the SVC bookstore, now called the Light on the Hill Bookstore, to look for sweatshirts. Eliza and Mary bought one to share.

We returned to Lexington, ate at Applebee's, and returned to our motel.

Wednesday, August 23, 2000
Virginia

Today we deposited Camilla at Southern Virginia College. She is in room 435 on the top floor of the Main Building. We checked her in starting about 10:30 and hauled all her stuff up the stairs. Then we drove back to the Walmart in Lexington to shop for stuff she still needed (pillows, garbage can, hangers, toiletries, etc.) and ate lunch at the Burger King. We took her stuff to her room and returned to the K–Mart in Lexington for the second list of stuff we thought of (a fan, laundry detergent, more hangers, etc.) before returning to the school.

We ate dinner with Camilla in the school cafeteria. We also sat with Emily, one of her room­mates, and Emily's mother. Camilla has three roommates: Emily from Tennessee, Rheanna from Iowa, and Elizabeth from Rhode Island. Emily is a sophomore; the other three are freshmen.

Camilla came back with us to the motel in Lexington to watch the final two-hour episode of Survivor on TV. After it was over, we drove her the six miles back to Buena Vista to sleep her first night in her dorm room.

Thursday, August 24, 2000
Virginia, Maryland

After three days in the same Comfort Inn, we got up, had breakfast, packed our belongings, and checked out. We drove to Buena Vista, found the post office, and mailed 15 postcards. We then drove up to Southern Virginia College to see if we could find Camilla, which we did in the ballroom. We ate lunch with her in the cafeteria, went up to her room a final time, took pictures, and said our good-byes. A few tears were shed. And we were gone.

After stopping for gas and at the Subway for Anna and Mary to get their lunch (they did not eat with us in the cafeteria), we started our return to the Washington D.C. area. We headed north on I–81 until we turned east on U.S. 211 to Shenandoah National Park. Tuesday we had driven the bottom fourth of the park. Today we drove the top fourth. Then we continued east on I–66 to the Alexandria area.

When we got to our Comfort Inn in Ballston, the same one we stayed in our first two nights, the area was without power and we were unable to check in. As we sat waiting in the car in the parking lot, we wondered what it would take to go home a day early (Friday morning instead of Saturday morning). With Camilla safely deposited and all of us beginning to feel travel weary (there is only so much gorgeous scenery and fascinating history we can assimilate in a week), we decided any­thing else was anticlimactic.

We made various calls on the cell phone and were able to change our airplane tickets and make all the arrangements. The $75 per ticket change fee, totaling $375 for the five of us, was nearly can­celed out by our turning the car in a day earlier, a day's less food and other expenses, and canceling our motel reservations for tonight and tomorrow night. Mary Ann Holt had arranged for a friend to give us a tour of the U.S. Capitol tomorrow, and we finally reached Mary Ann on the phone to cancel that also.

We ate dinner at the International House of Pancakes (IHOP) in Ballston, drove to Baltimore, turned in our rental car, and beginning about 10:00 spent all night waiting in the airport for our 6:30 flight to Houston. It was like having a seven- or eight-hour layover. Not a good idea.

Friday, August 25, 2000
Maryland, Texas, Utah

We thought morning would never come as we waited all night in the freezing airport. We boarded our plane at about 6:00 and flew to Houston. This time we were not as scattered throughout the plane: Claudia and I were together on one row, and Anna, Eliza, and Mary were together on another. Other than eating the little breakfast they served on the plane, I think most of us pretty much slept the whole three-hour flight.

Our layover this time in Houston was only a little over an hour, and then we flew home to Utah, arriving in the Salt Lake airport just before noon. Rebecca and Shauna came in their cars to pick us up. It had been a wonderful week, but we were glad to be home. (The flight from Houston to Salt Lake was over booked, probably because of us, and they were offering a $200 travel credit plus a flight later in the afternoon for anyone who would give up his seat. I was interested, but after waiting all night in the Baltimore airport no one else would even think of it, so we all came on home.)

In the afternoon Mom and I drove Anna back to Ephraim and saw the house at 200 South Main Street, where she is living with Bethany and Rebekah Youngs. Claudia actually stayed awake the entire return trip to keep me awake.

This morning while waiting for our flight home I wrote a letter to Camilla:

Dear Camilla,

I am writing this first letter to you while sitting in the Baltimore airport. It is about 2:00 in the morning, a time of day calculated in any time zone in the country that I should be in a bed somewhere asleep.

But I'm not. Instead, we are sitting here at gate C6 a day earlier than planned waiting for our 6:30 flight to Houston. Anna, Eliza, and Mary are sacked out on the floor. I tried that earlier but decided it was too hard for my old body. Mom is sleeping while sitting in one of these uncomfortable waiting room chairs. I tried that too, but so far that hasn't worked either. I have finished reading one of the books I got for my birthday, wrote in my trip journal, and am now writing this letter to you.

After we left you, we drove through a different part of Shenandoah National Park and then back to the Washington D.C. area. We were going to stay in the same Comfort Inn in Ballston that we stayed in our first two nights. When we got there, their power was out and we couldn't check in. So as we were sitting there waiting, we got wondering what it would take to leave a day earlier (Friday morning instead of Saturday morning).

We called Continental Airlines to see if there were seats even available on Friday. There were, but it would cost us $75 per ticket to make the change. We quickly calculated the savings from turning our rental car in a day earlier, not eating expensive Washington D.C.-area food all day Fri­day, and not staying in a motel either Thursday or Friday nights would all add up to the $375 it would cost us to leave a day earlier.

So we went for it, canceling motels and our tour of the Capitol building on Friday, and so on. We were all getting a little travel weary and, frankly, after leaving you, all everyone wanted to do is get home.

We drove to Baltimore, turned in the rental car, and have been here in the airport since about 10:00 Thursday night, waiting to get on our plane sometime around 6:00 Friday morning. It didn't seem worth paying for a motel for that short of a time, so here we are waiting, waiting, waiting in a cold, empty airport. I'm not sure how good of an idea that was, but here we are. It will be an additional memory I'm sure we'll never forget.

It's now 2:30, probably three hours before the airport starts coming back to life and the ticket counter reopens.

I never did get around to giving you a father's blessing. I originally meant to do it Sunday night. And then was going to on Tuesday evening. And should have Thursday afternoon when just we were there together in your room. I feel bad about that—the fact that we didn't do it.

I am confident, however, that you will have a good school year. I pray that you will, that you will take full advantage of the opportunities that come to you, that you will study hard, that you will participate fully in your ward, that you will befriend those who are lonely, that you will bless and lift those about you, that you will have joy in the journey.

Remember that there are a lot of us back home who love you, who are praying for you, who are pulling for you, who are wanting you to succeed. And there are those also on the other side of the veil who likewise—and probably even more so—love you and are interested in your happiness and success.

Read your patriarchal blessing from time to time, such as every fast Sunday, to be reminded of what the Lord has in mind for you. Study the scriptures every day. And say your prayers. Simple things, but oh so important!

I guess that’s my prayer for you. And my blessing.

Sent with all my love, Dad.

No holier place

Thursday at work it was my turn to give the spiritual thought in our Executive Directors' meeting. I mentioned that I had recently been called to teach gospel doctrine in our ward and that this Sunday I was teaching a lesson on the 1856 rescue of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. I shared a couple of scriptures and this bit of testimony from a man who had crossed the plains with the Martin handcart company:

"One day he was in a group of people who began sharply criticizing the Church leaders for ever allowing the Saints to cross the plains with no more supplies or protection than a handcart company provided. The old man listened until he could stand it no more; then he arose and said with great emotion:

"'I was in that company and my wife was in it. . . . We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? . . . [We] came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities.

"'I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it. . . . I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.

"'Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company'" (quoted in Our Heritage: A Brief History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints [1996], 78).

At the conclusion of my thought, Elder Richard G. Hinckley shared an experience from his family that he said I was free to use, if I wanted, in my lesson Sunday. A few years ago his father, President Gordon B. Hinckley, took all of his family, his children and their children, to the area along the Sweetwater River in south central Wyoming known as Martin's Cove, where the handcart pioneers sought refuge from the early winter storms that descended upon them. As they were walking along the trail, the Prophet stopped and talked to them about what had happened here.

"You have all been in holy places," President Hinckley said in essence, "some of you in the Holy Land, all of you in temples." And then with some emotion he added that they would never stand in any holier place than here.


Claudia and I and some of our children have been to these same sites on the wind-swept highlands of Wyoming, where the handcart pioneers became acquainted with God in their extremities and where a prophet-directed rescue took place. And I feel the same as President Hinckley. It is a holy place.

One small step for a man

Forty years ago today—on July 20, 1969—man first stepped onto the moon.

Three astronauts were a part of the Apollo 11 mission to the moon: Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins. Armstrong was the first to set foot on the moon. Aldrin was second. As Armstrong stepped onto the surface of the moon, he uttered the words, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." After a couple hours on the lunar surface, the two rejoined their third companion, who had been orbiting above in the spacecraft. And then they returned home to earth.

It had been a mere 66 years since Orville Wright flew the first powered airplane at a wind-swept beach at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, on December 17, 1903. The first flight lasted only 12 seconds and covered 120 feet. Three more flights were made that day with Orville's brother Wilbur piloting a flight that lasted 59 seconds and covered 852 feet. Americans consider the Wright brothers the fathers of aviation.

Brazilians, those dear people among whom I served my mission, consider one of their own countrymen as the father of aviation. Santos Dumont [Alberto Santos Dumont, 1873–1932, born in the Brazilian state of Minas Gerais] designed, built, and flew the first controllable airship, a small blimp, around the Eiffel Tower in Paris on October 19, 1901. Five years later, on October 23, 1906, he flew a fixed-wing airplane, the first such aircraft to be publicly witnessed to take off, fly, and land in Europe. He was one of the most famous people in the world in the early years of the twentieth century.

Even though he died in 1932, he was still very famous and very revered in Brazil when I was there serving my mission in 1969 and 1970. The smaller of two airports in Rio de Janeiro was named after him, and while I was serving in the mission office I went there at least once to meet someone flying in from São Paulo. Arriving and departing missionaries flew into and out of the larger, newer Galeão International Airport. The smaller, older Santos Dumont Airport primarily handled domestic flights to and from other Brazilian cities.

And so I guess it was appropriate that I was in Brazil for one of the most significant events in the history of mankind: man's first steps on the moon. And although the Apollo 11 spacecraft actually reached the moon on my 20th birthday, Saturday, July 19, 1969, the space module Eagle did not actually land on the surface of the moon until what in the western hemisphere of our planet was Sunday, July 20. But that seemed appropriate: July 20 was the 96th anniversary of Santos Dumont's birth.

"A dream of ages was fulfilled tonight," I wrote in my missionary journal for Sunday, July 20, 1969, "as man stepped onto the moon. Ever since the project was given the final go-ahead a few days ago, I have prayed for the mission's success and for the safety of the astronauts. But the moon is no longer virgin soil. The two Americans stepped onto the moon just a few moments before midnight Brazilian time, about 40 minutes after we gave up the vigil and went to bed. Probably every television set in the world was tuned to the coverage of the moon shot. Part of the goal set back in 1961 by John F. Kennedy has been realized: having a man on the moon before 1970. The other part? To bring them safely back to earth."

The next day, Monday, July 21, I wrote in a letter to my family back home in Idaho: "Yesterday, July 20, man first stepped onto the moon. A dream of centuries has been realized within 66 years after man’s first heavier-than-air flight at Kitty Hawk on that Dec­ember morning in 1903. In just a lifetime fantasy has become reality. What will that many more years bring? We are living in an exciting age, in adventurous times."

It was a heady time. For days afterward we missionaries, being Americans, were hailed on the streets as heroes, as though we had played some personal part in the historic drama that played out before the eyes of all the world.

On Thursday, July 24, which was being celebrated back home as Pioneer Day, I made one final journal entry: "Appropriately America's modern pioneers, the three astronauts, safely returned from their journey to the moon. Although they went into incubation confinement immediately after leaving the space cap­sule, President Richard M. Nixon was aboard the naval carrier that picked them up to give them an appropriate heroes welcome."

America's choir

Eighty years ago—on July 15, 1929—the Mormon Tabernacle Choir began broadcasting a weekly radio program, "Music and the Spoken Word," that continues to this day, making it the longest running live broadcast in history. Today, nearly 4,200 broadcasts later, the weekly program is carried on more than 2,000 radio, television, cable and satellite stations, as well as on the Internet. This morning the choir is celebrating its 80th birthday and officially launches its ninth decade of broadcasting.

Technology has changed dramatically during the eight decades since that first July broadcast. The first network radio broadcast featured a single microphone hanging from the ceiling of the Salt Lake Tabernacle. An engineer received his starting "on air" signal by telegraph. And the announcer perched on top of a ladder during the half-hour program to speak into the hanging mike.

Dating from August 1847, just one month after the Mormon pioneers first entered the Salt Lake Valley, the choir is one of the largest and oldest choirs in the world. It has performed before at least ten U.S. presidents, won scores of awards, sold millions of records, and sung before delighted audiences in many countries, including taking part in the opening ceremonies of the 2002 Winter Olympics. The choir's annual Christmas concert, taped each Christmas season and shown the following year during the holidays, is one of the most-watched broadcasts on PBS television stations across the country. President Ronald Regan (1911–2004) dubbed the choir "America's Choir" when it sang at his first presidential inauguration in 1981.




I have long admired the Tabernacle Choir. Though many years have passed, I still have vivid memories of the first time I heard the choir in person. It was Easter Sunday in April 1966. I was 16 years old. An older brother and I had traveled from Idaho to Utah for the annual conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

At the closing session of the conference that afternoon, David O. McKay (1873–1970), who was the ninth president of the Church, delivered his own final address and left his blessing upon the Church. He was advanced in age, and it proved to be the last sermon he ever personally gave in a general conference. We loved and sustained him as our prophet.

As he finished speaking, the mighty organ and choir joined together in "The Hallelujah Chorus" from Handel's Messiah. As is the tradition with this Easter anthem, the congre­ga­tion stood. After the last powerful strains had filled the air, the choir softly and reverently intoned President McKay's favorite hymn:

I need thee every hour,
Most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like thine
Can peace afford.

I need thee;
O I need thee;
Every hour I need thee!
O bless me now, my Savior;
I come unto thee!

It was an electrifying moment. I doubt there was a dry eye or an untouched soul in the entire Tabernacle.

The great depression

Yesterday I finished reading The Forgotten Man: A New History of the Great Depression, by Amity Shlaes. The policies of the New Deal, which Franklin D. Roosevelt pursued throughout the 1930s, never did bring unemployment down or otherwise resolve the Great Depression, and yet it is scary to observe the parallels between what was tried and failed then and what is being proposed in our own time.

Several weeks earlier I finished reading FDR's Folly: How Roosevelt and His New Deal Prolonged the Great Depression, by Jim Powell. "In the minds of historians and the American public alike, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was one of our greatest presidents, not least because he supposedly saved America from the Great Depression," explains the back cover of the book. "But as historian Jim Powell reveals in this groundbreaking book, Roosevelt's New Deal policies actually prolonged and exacerbated the economic disaster, swelled the federal government, and prevented the country from turning around quickly."

"The next time economic cataclysm looms," wrote the National Review when this book was first published in 2003, "leaders should read Jim Powell's book." Well, the economic cataclysm is upon us again. I really hope President Obama and his advisers, along with our elected officials in Congress, have read the book. And heed its message. Or the days ahead could be nastier than they really need to be.

As George Santayana (1863-1952) wrote in 1905, more than a century ago: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" (Life of Reason, Or The Phases of Human Progress: Introduction and Reason in Common Sense, 1:284).

Inauguration day

I am grateful today to be an American.

On the little TV in my office most of my staff and I watched the historic inauguration of our 44th President. Aside from the miracle of such a peaceful, seamless transition of power from President George W. Bush to President Barack Obama, and aside from the historical significance of the first African American now occupying the White House, I was impressed with the sense of hope and courage and optimism and willingness to tackle the hard issues facing our nation that President Obama verbalized in his inaugural address.

Claudia and I prayed for our new President and his family and associates in our family prayer this morning. He will need all our prayers on a continuing basis as we seek to work through the problems facing our country.

A historic moment

A historic moment for our country. Last night enough of my fellow Americans (including some of my children) voted for Barack Obama to make him the first African American president of the United States. We've come a long way since the civil rights struggles I remember from the 1960s. And that is good. Very good. I had no problems with Obama's race but had grave concerns about his liberal record and promises. But now, or at least on inaugural day in January, he is our president, and I pray for him and all the other leaders elected yesterday.

Of course, had John McCain won instead, we would have had our first female vice-president, Sarah Palin. I thought she was the best thing about the Republican ticket. But that was not to be. She goes back to serve as governor of Alaska. Perhaps we will hear more of her in the future.

By nine o'clock Mountain time the race had been decided, and Senator McCain gave an impressive concession speech that was full of class and reconciliation. Too bad many of his supporters who were gathered there in Phoenix did not have similar levels of class.

Is this a great country or what?

So I repent already

In my last, hasty post, I reported that my Congressman (Rob Bishop) had voted for the bailout package. I was in error. He actually voted against it. According to the Salt Lake Tribune on September 29,

Bishop believes the government needs to take some action, but he thought the approach was misguided and unnecessarily rushed.

"The solution needs to be more market-driven rather than based on taxpayer liability." Bishop said, "We are in a tough financial spot, and things could get worse fast, but Congress is acting too quickly based on what you've really got to admit is an artificial deadline." Bishop wants the amount of taxpayer money lowered from its current $700 billion cap, and he also wants Congress to bolster a provision that encourages Wall Street to buy government insurance instead of taking taxpayer cash.

I can live with that sort of thinking. So, I guess I'll have to vote for him after all.

Enough foolishness already

I have not used this blog before now to comment on political/economic stuff, but there seems to be far too much misinformation and fear and outright nonsense floating around out there, particularly in the news media, for me to forebear on this occasion. I do not begin to presume that I understand what is going on (does anyone really?), but it seems increasingly clear that many economists and politicians and media commentators do not.

Something President Franklin D. Roosevelt said in his first inaugural address in 1933 seems appropriate today: "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

AARP, which I happen to be a member of, invited me to comment on their blog about how terrible it was that Congress did not pass the bailout package yesterday. I respectfully disagree with the position implied in the question they posted: "Is failure to take action on the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression really an option?" This is what I posted:

"Let's be profoundly grateful that the bill did not pass yesterday. It was a very bad idea. There are saner ways to stabilize the markets without saddling taxpayers (that means us and our kids and grandkids) with such horrendous debt. My Republican representative voted for the bill, and he therefore does not get my vote this November.

"This is a great time to be investing. And it's simple really, something my parents taught me years ago: buy low, sell high. Stocks happen to be on sale right now. I wish I could afford to invest even more than I am right now."

The day freedom died

This afternoon I finished reading of a disturbing chapter from our nation's troubled history following the Civil War in a well written, engaging book by Charles Lane entitled The Day Freedom Died: The Colfax Massacre, the Supreme Court, and the Betrayal of Reconstruction. The summary on the inside leaves of the book's cover gives a fair summary of what the book was about (interspersed with my own comments prompted by that summary):

"America after the Civil War was a land of shattered promises and entrenched hatreds. In the explosive South, danger took many forms: white extremists loyal to a defeated world terrorized former slaves, while in the halls of government, bitter and byzantine political warfare raged between Republicans and Democrats."

Much has been said and written in our own time about the impasse between modern-day Republicans and Democrats, together with a resulting lack of any leadership in confronting the problems that beset us, because of the partisan nature of today's politics. Today's wrangling between the two parties seems mild when compared to the warfare that raged between them in the decade or so following the Civil War.

History thus provides a sense of perspective and balance in understanding and interpreting the events of our own day.

"In The Day Freedom Died, Charles Lane draws us vividly into this war-torn world with a true story whose larger dimensions have never been fully explored. Here is the epic tale of the Colfax Massacre, the mass murder of more than sixty black men on Easter Sunday 1873 that propelled a small Louisiana town into the center of the nation's consciousness. As the smoke cleared, the perpetrators created a falsified version of events to justify their crimes. But a tenacious northern-born lawyer rejected the lies. Convinced that the Colfax murderers must be punished lest the suffering of the Civil War be in vain, U.S. Attorney James Beckwith of New Orleans pursued the killers despite death threats and bureaucratic intrigue—until the final showdown at the Supreme Court of the United States. The ruling that decided the case influenced race relations in the United States for decades."

Like the author, I had never heard of the events of that long-ago Easter Sunday in Colfax, Louisiana, and the resulting constitutional issues and political fallout that concerned the country at that time, until I read this book. I would heartily recommend it to any serious student of American history.

"An electrifying piece of historical detective work, The Day Freedom Died brings to life a gallary of memorable characters in addition to Beckwith: Willey Calhoun, the iconoclastic Southerner who dreamed of building a bastion of equal rights on his Louisiana plantation; Christopher Columbus Nash, the white supremacist avenger who organized the Colfax Massacre; William Ward, the black Union Army veteran who took up arms against white terrorists; Ulysses S. Grant, the well-intentioned but beleaguered president; and Joseph P. Bradley, the brilliant justice of the Supreme Court whose political and legal calculations would shape the drama's troubling final act."

The pervasive fraud and rampant violence associated with elections in Louisiana (and indeed in much of the South) during this period makes our little hiccup with the 2000 George Bush election, ultimately decided by the U.S. Supreme Court over irregularities in Florida, seem pale in comparison.

In many respects, we have come a long way since the difficult days of Reconstruction and its aftermath. We now have a black candidate of a major American political party—ironically the Democrats, which in that distant day was the party of white supremacists—running for the presidency of our country. I liked the concluding paragraph in Bret Schulte's editorial in this week's issue of U.S. News & World Report:

"As much as the Obama campaign trafficked in hope, the racial undercurrent is enough to make many Americans despair, regardless of political stripe. Still, most Americans are proud to live in a country that gave a self-proclaimed skinny kid with a funny name and few advantages the chance to be president. Whether or not Obama is the best candidate for the job is up to voters, who have plenty of issues to weigh. It's too bad that some voters have decided that race is one of them" (U.S. News & World Report, June 16, 2008, "One Week," 10).

I personally think there are a lot of issues against Senator Barak Obama's becoming our next president, but I do not think race should be one of them. By now we should have outgrown that.

A thirtieth anniversary

There are moments in life so infused with emotion—whether of shock or grief or fear on the one hand or of surprise or excitement or joy on the other hand—that forever enshrines the events and feelings of the day into our memories for the rest of our lives. The death of a loved one or the birth of a child can be such a moment for an individual or a family.

Sometimes such moments are spread across whole populations and cultures, such as the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated or the day the space shuttle Challenger exploded or the morning America was attacked on multiple fronts on 9-11. Each of these was a horrific event, and if you were alive at the time and were old enough to know what was going on, you can clearly remember where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news unfolding.

A particularly joyous event in the lives of Latter-day Saints across the world occurred exactly thirty years ago tomorrow when President Spencer W. Kimball (1895-1985), the twelfth president and prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, announced on June 8, 1978, that God had revealed that "the long-promised day has come when every faithful, worthy man in the Church may receive the holy priesthood, with power to exercise its divine authority, and enjoy with his loved ones every blessing that flows therefrom, including the blessings of the temple" and that "all worthy male members of the Church may be ordained to the priesthood without regard for race or color" (First Presidency letter dated June 8, 1978; now canonized as scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants as Official Declaration 2).

There were undoubtedly those who refused to accept the revelation as the mind and will of the Lord, just as had occurred eighty-eight years earlier when President Wilford Woodruff (1807-1898), the fourth president and prophet of the Church, had announced in 1890 that God had revealed that the Latter-day Saints were no longer required to live the law of plural marriage and were from that time forward specifically prohibited from entering into plural marriages (see Official Declaration 1 in the Doctrine and Covenants).

In both instances—with President Woodruff's announcement in 1890 and with President Kimball's announcement in 1978—the vast majority of devoted, faithful Latter-day Saints accepted these major shifts in practice as being the mind and voice and will of the Lord to His people.

My own experience on that June morning thirty years ago, captured in a joyous letter I wrote the following morning [Saturday, June 10, 1978] to my extended family and others, I think reflects the spirit in which most Latter-day Saints at the time greeted the announcement:

On Friday morning, June 9, 1978, all of the General Authorities of the Church who reside at Church headquarters were called to an early morning meeting in the Salt Lake Temple. They had been asked to come fasting and praying. In a manner most solemn and sacred, the statement of the First Presidency was read:

“To All General and Local Priesthood Officers of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints throughout the World

“Dear Brethren:

“As we have witnessed the expansion of the work of the Lord over the earth, we have been grateful that people of many nations have responded to the message of the restored gospel, and have joined the Church in ever-increasing numbers. This, in turn, has inspired us with a desire to extend to every worthy member of the Church all of the privileges and blessings which the gospel affords.

“Aware of the promises made by the prophets and presidents of the Church who have preceded us that at some time, in God’s eternal plan, all of our brethren who are worthy may receive the priesthood, and witnessing the faithfulness of those from whom the priesthood has been withheld, we have pleaded long and earnestly in behalf of these, our faithful brethren, spending many hours in the Upper Room of the Temple supplicating the Lord for divine guidance.

“He has heard our prayers, and by revelation has confirmed that the long-promised day has come when every faithful, worthy man in the Church may receive the holy priesthood, with power to exercise its divine authority, and enjoy with his loved ones every blessing that flows therefrom, including the blessings of the temple. Accordingly, all worthy male members of the Church may be ordained to the priesthood without regard for race or color. Priesthood leaders are instructed to follow the policy of carefully interviewing all candidates for ordination to either the Aaronic or the Melchizedek Priesthood to insure that they meet the established standards for worthiness.

“We declare with soberness that the Lord has now made known His will for the blessing of all His children throughout the earth who will hearken to the voice of His authorized servants, and prepare themselves to receive every blessing of the gospel.

“Sincerely yours,
“Spencer W. Kimball, N. Eldon Tanner, and Marion G. Romney”

President Kimball then responded, bearing his sweet and fervent testimony that the Lord had heard and answered by revelation his oft and fervent pleadings. Each General Authority present then had an opportunity to bear his testimony and share his feelings of joy and thanksgiving.

“Never have I felt the Spirit of the Lord more strongly,” commented one of the Brethren to me later that day, “than I did this morning in that temple meeting.”

Shortly after that historic meeting, Elder Carlos E. Asay and Rex D. Pinegar called together all of the staff of the Missionary Department, where I have the privilege of working, to make the announcement to us. As Elder Asay read the statement, my eyes filled with tears, my heart swelled with joy, and I felt like standing and shouting “Praise the Lord.” My reaction was not unique. The Spirit of the Lord was strongly present, and many in the room wept openly—as I was doing—and were thrilled beyond all description at this monumental step forward.

Both Elder Asay and Elder Pinegar bore their testimonies and let us know in no uncertain terms that this was indeed a revelation from Almighty God. The Spirit confirmed their witness and riveted it into our souls. This was truth; it was so right; the Lord had spoken; the heavens had been opened.

Elder Pinegar opened the meeting for others to respond, and three or four of us bore our testimonies. I had that sacred opportunity, and only once before in my life during the bearing of my own testimony have I cried.

I recounted how I had served my mission in northern Brazil, where a large part of the population had the Negro lineage. The last city I worked in had an estimated 70 to 90 percent of its population who were black. Oh, how I grew to love those dear, humble people. They were warm, eager, and receptive. But their day and season had not yet arrived.

In Brazil there are many fine black members in the Church, many of them strong and faithful despite the restrictions they may not have understood but nevertheless accepted, grateful for those blessings of the gospel they were able to enjoy, and hoping for the day that has now arrived when the blessings of the priesthood would be theirs.

I recall specifically one dear, humble family in Petrópolis, just out of Rio de Janeiro. They were poor even by Brazilian standards. They lived in a tiny house with a dirt floor and no electricity. But they were solid people, and they taught a young elder from North America what happiness was. The husband, who held the priesthood, was a counselor in the branch presidency. His wife and consequently the children were of Negro lineage. For eight or nine years the family had faithfully attended meetings before the elders would baptize them. And now to think that in only a few months when the São Paulo Temple is dedicated they will be able to go there and all be sealed together forever as a family.

Oh, how I wish I were in Brazil today!

Yesterday’s announcement was historic. In my mind it far surpasses in significance the Manifesto issued by President Wilford Woodruff in 1890. It perhaps even surpasses the revelation that came to Peter anciently when he was directed to begin taking the gospel to the gentiles (see Acts 10:1–11:18). This new revelation issued by President Kimball this week canceled what has been in effect through six long millennia since the days of Cain. It fulfills the promises and prophecies of various prophets that that day would come. We have witnessed prophecy fulfilled, and I would hope each of us would be wise enough to record the historic event in our journals and diaries.

Two things came across to me yesterday, among other things. First, President Kimball is a kind and loving man, filled with great concern for all of God’s children. He had struggled long and pled much with the Lord before this revelation came. The very tone of the First Presidency’s letter bears this out. Second, President Kimball is a courageous man. It is one thing to hear the voice of the Lord, but it is another to have the courage to carry it out.

This action did not come about, as some have already erroneously supposed, because of outside pressures brought to bear against the Church. It has come partly because we have a prophet who in the fulness of his near perfection is filled with charity, the pure love of Christ, and who paid the price to bring it about, prevailing upon the heavens with his giant Enoch-like faith. And it has come because in the economy of heaven and in the wisdom, justice, and mercy of an all-knowing and all-loving God the time was right for the full blessings of the gospel to be extended to all people everywhere “who will hearken to the voice of His authorized servants, and prepare them-selves to receive every blessing of the gospel.”

What the Lord said specifically of the Prophet Joseph Smith seems to apply so very well to President Spencer W. Kimball:

“Wherefore, meaning the church, thou shalt give heed unto all his words and commandments which he shall give unto you as he receiveth them, walking in all holiness before me;

“For his word ye shall receive, as if from mine own mouth, in all patience and faith . . . .

“For thus saith the Lord God: Him have I inspired to move the cause of Zion in mighty power for good, and his diligence I know, and his prayers I have heard” (D&C 21:4–5, 7).

How fully that fits President Kimball and how appropriate to what has just happened this week!

The First Presidency’s statement does not contain the phrase “thus saith the Lord,” but it says it. They did say, “He has heard our prayers, and by revelation has confirmed that the long-promised day has come.” They did say, “We declare with soberness that the Lord has now made known His will for the blessing of all His children.”

I add my own humble testimony. God lives—of that there is no doubt. He has restored His priesthood in our day—of that there is no doubt. We have a mighty prophet in modern Israel—of that there is no doubt. The Spirit has borne powerful witness to my soul that this move to extend the priesthood to those who were formerly restricted is in fact a revelation from God. It is true. I know it as I know anything, and I declare that to you in the name of Jesus Christ, whose priesthood it is. Amen.

Truman

So last night I finished reading Truman, a 992-page book by David McCullough about the 33rd President of the United States, Harry S. Truman. For someone who loves history, as I do, it was a completely satisfying experience. I recommend the book without reservation.

It is amazing how little some things seem to change in the world. I could draw a lot of parallels with the political climate in our country today.

For most of the nearly eight years he served as President, Truman was greatly disliked by many people, at times (if one can believe public opinion polls) by most people, yet he doggedly pursued a steady course forward based on what he thought was the right thing to do. He was a man of uncommon integrity and had some pretty tough choices to make as the United States ended World War II and embarked on its post-war leadership of the free world. He defined in large measure how our country would participate in the Cold War over the next four decades.

His committing the nation to a war in Korea was particularly unpopular at the time, but in hindsight undoubtedly contained the spread of communism in that part of the world and kept us out of a third world war.

A fascinating thing about history is that at the time it is being made the participants do not know how things are going to turn out in the end. What can appear so obvious to us, from our armchairs on Monday morning, was not at all obvious at the time. Sort of like the outcome of a hotly contested basketball game. It ain't over until it's over.