A Memorable Weekend; But Will I Remember It?

The CZ 550 in 9.3x62mm. Well nigh perfect.

I had fun yesterday. I taught both Sunday School and Priesthood today. All of this went pretty well. But will I remember it a few weeks or months from now? If the answer is yes, it will only be because of my journal and this blog. I was just mentioning to Mary minutes ago how great it is that she so often catches up her family blog. It will be a precious family history some day. Each child will want to have a copy, and they'll sit together as young adults and laugh over the pictures and stories about themselves.

We Latter-day Saints are a record-keeping people. Always have been. Always should be. So I'll record some details of this weekend.

Earlier this week, brother Rosen called and asked me to take his Gospel Doctrine class while he was out of town. I cheerfully acceded to the request, but, even as I put the phone down, it occurred to me that it was the second Sunday, always my turn to teach the High Priests. At first I was mildly worried. Then it occurred to me that for 20 years I had taught several classes per day, five days per week, 36 weeks per year, and hadn't come to any harm from it. So I relaxed.



The Sunday School lesson, on early missionary work in the restored Church, was a pleasure to teach and even allowed me to discuss some of the political climate of the day as the Members of the Twelve were leaving Kirtland to go on missions. It was the Jacksonian era. Other big names like Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, Daniel Webster, Davy Crockett, the Alamo, Nicholas Biddle, and his Second Bank of the United States all crowded into the forefront of my thoughts. I briefly described the Bank War and the Panic of 1837, and two persons in the class mentioned the financial troubles the Saints were having right along with the rest of the country. I got to talk about "moving the deposits," the most controversial thing Jackson ever did. Even killing Dickinson, hanging Armbrister and Arbuthnot, and invading Florida had not made him so many enemies. But he was Andy Jackson, and he'd never been known to back down from a fight. And he won that fight, too. The Bank was destroyed, Biddle was the loser, and, when it all caused a financial panic the year after Jackson moved back to Nashville, it was Martin Van Buren who got the blame.



I regret that Jackson never met Joseph Smith. I think they'd have liked each other instinctively.



The Priesthood lesson on the importance of building temples and Joseph Smith's personal anxiety to see it get done was an easy thing to discuss with a bunch of old guys like myself. Many of them are much better men than me, though. I think that the majority of them never have those selfish tendencies to hanker after worldly goods that I live with.



Saturday was a delight. Sheryl miraculously found enough money for us to buy a marked-down scope for my 9.3x62mm rifle which had battered the old scope to pieces. It kicks a little.





When I rezeroed it at the public range yesterday, I finished with the 286 grain Nosler Partition going 1 inch high at 100 yards, the 286 grain Woodleigh round nose going 1 1/2" right of that, and the 286 grain Woodleigh solid going about 1 1/2" directly below the Nosler. So my hunting and stopping loads all go to about the same place, the mark of a fine rifle. And no one has ever put criticism of a CZ rifle in print that I know of.



There is something unutterably satisfying about knowing that one is in possession of a medium bore rifle that is accurate and is also the equal of any creature that walks on this continent. I just couldn't stop smiling yesterday evening. And this evening I got to talk with Joseph on the phone for about half an hour!



If I could be guaranteed that all weekends would go as this one did, I'd be perfectly satisfied.

Pleasant Days and Nights This Month

Looking back at the 'Burban from the 300 yard gong.

Little Aric's Favorite Pastime

We had a great time today at the Idaho Falls Temple. Sheryl's Uncle Donnie and Aunt Donna, who have been married way over fifty years were sealed today after an endowment session which we all attended. Getting this accomplished has been one of LeRoy Wilde's goals to accomplish before he follows Celia through the veil. Selfishly, we hope he has a few more things on his agenda.

The Armells continue to be great friends and great Church contacts. Elders Potts and Meredith have taught them a couple of discussions lately, the most recent one in our home. Please keep praying for them to feel the Spirit and get testimonies of the truth of the Restored Church.

Herewith, some pictures of our recent adventures with the Armells. We look forward to bringing them to little Penny's blessing tomorrow!

The Advent of Aric Armell the Younger

This is hardly a real blog post. I merely wanted to announce to the world that our dear friends, the Armells, have had their l ittle boy, who has been named for his dad. Let me quickly state the vital statistics while I still remember them: 9 lbs., 12 ozs. Head circumference: 15". Length: 22". This is a healthy and good-looking little Lamanite!

Akira stayed with us from about 4:50 a.m. until we went to see the little guy at around 8. She slept among us, dogs and all, as though she were still at home in her own bed.

Much to our joy, the Armells have begun to ask questions about the Gospel and the scriptures. You might mention us in your prayers, so we can do and say everything the right way.

Now we look forward to Mary's performance in a few days and to Heather's back in Atlanta pretty soon, too.

With any luck, you'll be able to blow these pictures up to be a lot bigger. Sometimes the pictures I attach to a post do that very well. Sometimes they don't do it at all. It's all a huge mystery to me. Anyway, if you can get these to expand, you'll be able to read the little captions which our newly updated Kodak programs allows us to put right on the photograph. It just occurred to me how terribly quaint that last sentence will seem in a generation or two.

Blessings, Great and Small.

Much to our joy, the Armell family went to Sacrament meeting with us today. Sheryl's dad, LeRoy, was speaking in a ward on the other side of town. Our favorite Lamanites seemed to take it all very seriously and were quite respectful of the whole experience. Aric dressed up in some very sharp looking new threads. He bought a tie just for the occasion. Former Marines really know how to dress.

They took us to the casino restaurant afterwards, where we had "Indian Tacos." I'd always heard them called "Navajo Tacos" before, but I suppose the Shoshone have their own ways. Zannita, one of only 200 surviving Bannocks in the world, and Aric, a member of the Winnebago nation, often express their impatience with the campy ways of the Shoshone people.

I'm off again tomorrow to drive for Brother Wilkins. This time we're going to Laramie. Our intention is to be home by Thursday night.

We can barely manage a household with two tiny dogs, so, naturally, we have accepted two more for a week. Sheryl's sister Teresa is married to a semi-pro golfer. They'll be in St. George. Oh, well, they watched Mico for us once last year when we went to Jacquie's wedding.

I think I'll decorate the top part of this post with new pictures of the grandchildren we can occasionally reach. Some, we hardly ever get to see. I'll also include a photo or two of Sheryl's latest assault on Miss Sadie's dignity.

Our Own Members of "The Greatest Generation"

I've often been known to "beweep my outcast state and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries," but in reality, the only thing we're low on is money. We have everything else in abundance. This should be a big Thanksgiving for that reason alone.

The greatest of all great blessings is family. The Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ makes that very clear. And we have a great family. I love to read all your blog posts, not to mention emails. I have never had lots of friends, but I have had a few very close ones. But in terms of family, I've been blessed with both abundance and quality! There isn't a single one of them whom I don't love and admire. Every child and grandchild, every niece and nephew, every sibling and in-law, and even every outlaw! (That's a private joke between me and Mary.)

Let me dwell for a moment on the subject of my parents. I love and admire them greatly. They sacrificed a great deal to join the Church, but they've always seemed to count it a privilege. They are members of what Tom Brokaw called "The Greatest Generation." So are Len's folks, Lynne's folks, Sheryl's folks, Shayne's folks, and many other people in or close to the family with whom I've had the privilege to associate in my life.

Brokaw called them this because of what they endured, accomplished, and built. This was a generation raised by survivors of "The Great War," 1914-18 (1917-18 for Americans except those who volunteered early for the air forces of other nations.) They saw and lived through The Great Depression, an event which seems to be growing more real in our imaginations all the time. They fought, financed, and endured The Second World War, the largest human conflict in 6,000 years of recorded human history.

After the war they built a nation which led the world in defending the peace which had been so hard won. Preserving peace does not consist of merely refusing to fight. It often consists of being the only one who is willing to continue to struggle with the forces of evil in the world. And evil is a very real thing in this world, regardless of what some might say. I believe that John Marshall is quoted as saying, "Peace does not come through avoidance of conflict but through the ability to deal effectively with it." So those who laughed at Reagan's "Peacekeeper" missiles and Sam Colt's "Peacemaker" sidearm were not being honest in their accusation of irony.

Our parents' generation was the one that funded and worked The Marshall Plan for Europe and similarly huge projects for Japan. Cynics and skeptics may say we did it for selfish reasons. They may say that we did it to ensure that we had healthy trading partners in order to secure our own economy. They may be right about that. But I ask, "So what? What is wrong with that? It is still the only thing of its kind that has ever been seen. And its immediate effects were anything but selfish on the part of the United States."

Our parents' generation literally rebuilt major nations which had tried to destroy the world and had come pretty close to doing it. They imposed on them democratic forms of government which most of their children have come to appreciate. (That Samurai who tried to take over the Japanese government in the seventies was jeered and hooted at by the very soldiers he had hoped to enlist in his absurd cause. No one ever more justly committed sepuku.)

Theirs was the generation that "stayed the course" as Mr. Reagan asked us to do. They are the ones who literally outfought, outspent, outworked and outlived the huge and powerful Soviet Union. It's so easy for today's doubters to say that the USSR was never much of a threat anyway since it didn't succeed in rendering every other nation on earth a "worker paradise." But if you lived through it, you remember that their desire to dominate the world was very real. If you lived through it, you recall that we often discussed - even in grade school - the very real possibility of waking up some day as a big, smoking hole in the ground!

When you add to these accomplishments the fact that we were raised in the Restored Church, you come to the inescapable conclusion that we are a blessed generation, more so than any which has yet lived.

The oldest living members of our family are truly "The Greatest Generation." May we remember that on this Thanksgiving Day and strive every day of our lives to be worthy of them.

Lamanitis

Akira blesses the earth.

Early in 1971,I was attending the Italian LTM (Language Training Mission) in Provo. We of the Italian persuasion lived in a three story house and walked a couple of blocks to another building for all our meals. In that dining hall I saw a clever little poster. It had apparently been written by someone who had labored among Lamanites in the American southwest as a missionary. In bold letters it warned all and sundry to beware of a disease called Lamanitis.

The poster said that it was easily communicable and that there was no known cure. It went on to say that those who lost themselves in the service of Lamanites would soon find themselves unable even to think of them without getting misty and having to employ hankies and Kleenex. There was some more clever stuff there, but you get the gist of it. If you labor to teach someone the Gospel, you'll come to love them in unforgettable ways and will be afflicted with this gentle malady all the rest of your days.

Now, this principle is true of all people whom we might serve, of course. Len Humphries and Jake Haeberle no doubt feel a great deal of tenderness for the Brazilian people. Joseph must have developed a great deal of love for the German people despite the hard time they occasionally gave him and his companions. My brother John and my son Miles both served in Florida, and I remember reading letters in which they felt great excitement about families and individuals who were investigating the Church. I, myself, came to love Italians so much that I can get choked up just listening to them speak in a movie today. Perhaps the way to sum it up is this: That which we serve, we love. And that which we serve in the Lord's work, we love with an almost Godly love.

But I've always wondered about that "disease" called Lamanitis. Could I get it?

About three months ago I was at the Gate City Range, testing a few loads in three rifles. Only one other group was there and they were several benches to my right. Shooters, like many other hobbyists, are a gregarious bunch. In no time I had shared my rifles with them and walked down to post new targets with them. This family consisted of a young couple with one of their nephews. They were shooting rimfire rifles and taking their time, doing it right.

The young husband seemed delighted to get to fire my three center-fire rifles. He mentioned his service in both Iraq and Afghanistan. It was a pleasant day at the range.

Maybe three weeks later, I was standing out front of my house with Sheryl, discussing what needed to be done with our lawn. (Believe me, a great deal needs to be done!) The young Lamanite fellow drove up, rolled down his window, and said, "I know who you are!" After a moment I recognized him, too. After another pleasant chat, we agreed that we would have to go out shooting again sometime. But it was another month before we finally did it. He took me to a place on the desert near Blackfoot where he had marked off some fairly long ranges. He was my only witness when I hit a 2 1/2 gallon Roundup jug from 300 yards with an iron sighted Russian military carbine. He was hitting a paper target at that same distance with a scope-sighted .22 Magnum!

Since then we have eaten dinner in their home, gone shooting with them a couple of times more, and today, shared some pointers of reloading with young Aric, the husband. It is apparent that the Lord has put this sweet young family in our sphere of influence. Zanitta, the wife, is expecting their second baby. The first one, Akira, is a doll of the first order. I already sent some of you her photos several weeks ago.

It's been some time since I did any real member-missionary work. I don't want to scare them off by inviting the missionaries into the equation too soon, but I don't want to miss the opportunity, either. I'll attach some pictures so you can see how I caught my first case of Lamanitis.