Ice Hockey Stadium

The mission office elders in our Stockholm mission all got turns to drive the mission van. It was a huge vehicle intended to accommodate large groups of missionaries to and from the airport on transfer days. On off days, though, it was fun to zip around in this oversized American monstrosity with just you and your companion. One freezing evening in January, Elder Braithwaite and I had been tracking an apartment complex and were on our way home. In an effort to get on the freeway, we saw a sign entrance that said “Is Hockey Stadium” (Ice Hockey). Knowing that the Ice Hockey stadium was the name of a freeway entrance, we turned into it. Unfortunately, it was the actual ice hockey stadium parking lot. And amazingly, the second we pulled into that icy, snowed-in lot, a line of cars suddently appeared behind us, blocking the one-lane entrance. It was a real mess, as every vehicle was sliding this way and that. And two people were unfortunately driving the large American monstrosity. A game was soon the start, and since the cars kept flowing in, it was all we could do to just keep circling round and round the small lot and try and keep out of others way and from getting hit. All of us were sliding, getting stuck in snowbanks, and it was a miracle there were no accidents. It seemed that cars were stopping and just parking wherever they wanted, since no one could see the painted stall lines under the icy, snow-covered base, and we panicked we would never get out. After what seemed an eternity (it was probably about an hour), the inflow of cars started to dissipate. Thankfully, Elder Braithwaite and I were able to thread the van through a passage that allowed us to get home before having to stay the night in the stadium. 

LESSON LEARNED: Lots of funny, memorable things happen on missions that aren’t so funny at the time.  But the memories are so worth it.

FEEDBACK: WHAT HILARIOUS MEMORIES DO YOU HAVE FROM YOUR MISSION?

Family Mafia Story

Last night, a friend of my son’s asked me to tell her our family mafia story.  It reminded me that I have never recorded it, so here it is.  My mother’s parents (Antonino Lucera and Josephine Zaby) are both from the village of Corleone, in Sicily, Italy.  It is located in the heart of mafia country, and is famous for where the mafia began, unfortunately.  When grandpa was a boy (as I was told by both my grandmother and my aunt), members of the mafia came to the family in Sicily with a proposition.  That being, the family either join their organization or lose their family farm to the mafia.  I don’t know how long they contemplated the decision, but I am told the “simply gave up the farm and moved to America”. How grateful I am for that simple decision and its lasting impact. The family made a lot sacrifices in order to do what was right. Grandpa Tony was trained as a craftsman in the making of fine leather saddles for horses.  I remember seeing one of his last saddles, with the extensive leather work and decorations he put into it.  Unfortunately for him, along came the car, which put him quickly out of business.  But he adjusted and became a repairman of leather shoes.  He ran a little shop in Inglewood, Los Angeles until his retirement.

LESSON LEARNED:  Each of our family histories contain little gems of provenance that help us appreciate the sacrifices of our ancestors.

FEEDBACK:  WHAT STORIES OF SACRIFICE DO YOU REMEMBER FROM YOUR ANCESTORS?

Noomi and Us

In 2005, my daughter Karen and I flew to Sweden and Norway on a genealogy trip. Prior to going, my mind keep turning the Vedel and Kerstin Förnes. Vedel had just been baptized into the church as a young man when I was a missionary in Sweden in 1982. Since then, he and his wife Kerstin had raised seven children in Sweden, and he had served in their stake presidency for over a decade. I felt impressed that we needed to invite a child of theirs to be a foreign exchange student with us for the next year, though I had no idea who or why. Vedel and I had had no contact with one another in over twenty years, and he would never remember me. But I shared the impression with Kathleen, and she agreed I should offer if the opportunity arose. We attended church in their ward in Orebro, Sweden on the only Sunday we were there. I meet Kerstin during the first hour, but being a surgical nurse, she was called into work the second hour and had to leave. After the meeting block, we were all out in the parking lot visiting when the Holy Ghost jolted my heart and said, “You need to invite Vedel to have one of his kids be a student in America with you - NOW!” I had totally forgotten for some reason. When I offered, he stared at me in a slight stuper, but then said they would be very interested in that for their daughter Noomi. Then he shared this with me: “When my wife Kerstin met you during the first hour, she had a very strong impression that you would invite our daughter to be an exchange student with you. And she told me when he does, you need to say yes!”

LESSON LEARNED: The Lord will allow us to be instruments in His hands if we are in tune with the Holy Spirit and listen to the promptings.

FEEDBACK: HAVE YOU EVER HAD A JOLT-LIKE PROMPTING OF THE HOLY SPIRIT THAT HELPED MAKE AN IMPORTANT IMPACT IN YOUR LIFE?

Grandpa Hoeing Machine

One of my earliest and most lasting memories of gardening is the influence my Italian grandfather had on me. His backyard in Inglewood, California was a magical place. It had an orange tree, a lemon tree and a fig tree that made the biggest, juiciest figs I have ever tasted. He and I liked to pick his Italian fava beans together, and pop them in our mouths fresh. Years later, when we had moved to Utah, everything was a bit more rustic and haphazard there, including our large garden. But when Grandpa Tony and Grandma Josie would visit, she would put grandpa to task in the garden. I can still see her pointing at rows and speaking fast in Sicilian to grandpa (who didn’t speak English very well), and he would hoe frantically down the rows like a machine at her command. He was so quick and determined that it cast an indelible impression in my memory. I credit much of my love for gardening to his wonderful example.

LESSON LEARNED: It is often the tiny, fleeting examples by others that we remember forever. Even the most brief of these can result in persisting memories, and may lead to lasting family traditions.

FEEDBACK: WHAT PERSONAL OR FAMILY TRADITIONS DO YOU ATTRIBUTE TO THE BRIEF EXAMPLES OF FAMILY MEMBERS?

The Woodworker's Pamphlet

A couple years ago, I went to Paraguay with Preston, Brandon and Preston’s missionary companion, Doug Shumway, to visit Preston’s mission field.  It was a marvelous trip, and I was struck by the humility and fortitude of many of the people he knew.  They are a people of such simple means.  But they are so happy, and they carve out a humble livelihood with so little available to them.  One of Preston’s friends we met was Nedi, who was a woodworker.  He made small furniture, chessboards, and other beautiful like items right in his home.  His backyard behind his home was filled with his products.  When I asked him how he learned his craft, he went into the back of his little house and brought out a little pamphlet.  It was reminiscent of one you would get for free in the mail or a showroom:  a four-page bi-fold with pictures of finished wood products.  I glanced though the pamphlet, noting its many folds and taped edges.  I asked him where he got his other detailed instructions or training.  He said that was it. We also met a woman who did the same thing with weaving and crocheting.  In this case, she had an old, worn bi-fold pamphlet that showed finished woven products. 

LESSON LEARNED:  It was amazing to think what we are each able to accomplish if we put ours minds to it.

FEEDBACK:  WHAT HAS BEEN YOUR EXPERIENCE OF MEETING SOMEONE WHO HAS ACCOMPLISH MUCH WITH THE AID OF VERY LITTLE?

The Flying Apple

When I was eight, we had a new home built in Kaysville, UT.  We were renting and living in Bountiful during the interim, having moved from California a year earlier.  Most of our evenings and all of our Saturdays were spent at the new homesite, inspecting and making sure all was going well.  This led to a lot of boredom for us three boys, and we often got ourselves in trouble.  On one Saturday afternoon, my oldest brother Tony had done something to make make me really mad.  I don’t remember how or why, but I remember clearly what happened next.  Tony was out at the front curb playing on a tractor that was being used to grade the front yard for a new lawn.  I was in the kitchen, and took an apple from the fridge and went out on the front porch.  With all my might, I chucked the apple as hard as I could across the forty feet to where Tony sat.  To my glee, the apple creamed him right in the side of the head.  My cheering was short-lived though, as I let out a yelp and took off for safety.  He of course hunted me down and gave me a pounding.  But it was so worth it.

LESSON LEARNED:  He who has the might, wins the fight.  For those of us more slight, best to take our flight.

FEEDBACK:  WHAT MEMORABLE RUN-INS DID YOU HAVE WITH YOUR SIBLINGS WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG?