In which Legacy is actually one of the best things that happened to my childhood. Or my missionary preparation days.

It's Pioneer Day.

Last year, I wrote a post about how Oregon Trail was the go-to game of my childhood. I don't think that I can really top my Oregon Trail post (which is one of my favorite posts I've ever written). So this post is an extension of that post, which just confirms that my childhood love for pioneers that has never gone entirely away. Because there is no way just one blog post can encapsulate all the joy and imagination that went on in my seven-year-old head when I pretended to be a pioneer.

So in the spirit of '47, this year I'm talking about Legacy. 

Legacy was one of my favorite movies growing up, rivaling Swan Princess and Anastasia. But Legacy was particularly special for three reasons:

1. It was about pioneers.

2. I only got to see it when we visited family in Utah and went to Temple Square (this was in the 90s before Legacy was available for home use and was only broadcast at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building--now you can watch it online). But the novelty of seeing it only in Salt Lake was all very exciting to a seven-year-old girl from Las Vegas.

3. Did I mention it's about pioneers?

Because it is. And I loved those stories about pioneers. Still do. I am unashamed about that. Even though there are parts of the movie that I watch now and am like, "What?" or, "They just glossed over that bit of history really fast." Oh well. You only have an hour, so you've got to do what you can.

For those unfamiliar with Legacy (and especially for those familiar with it), let me give you a taste of why I loved it so much:

1. First of all, let's look at these awesome panoramas:

[Home on the range. Simply stunning.] 

2. Also, I loved scenes like this where you can sense soul-illumination:

[ask and ye shall receive.]

 [by the power of the Holy Ghost, ye may know the truth of all things.]

3. Like I said earlier, there's only so much Church history you can pack into an hour-long movie that also has to include romance, drama, and intrigue, but scenes from the movie gave my parents opportunities to talk to me about Church history and what happened in Missouri and Nauvoo. Like the Haun's Mill Massacre and the malaria outbreak in Commerce, Illinois.

 [Governor Boggs's infamous Extermination Order which said that all Mormons were to be driven from the state of Missouri or killed. When I want to be someone particularly scary for Halloween, I dress up as Governor Boggs. Or General Clark. Also, as an aside--did you know that the Extermination Order wasn't officially struck from Missouri laws until 1976? Yeah, it was there for over one hundred years. Yikes.]

[Rough times in Missouri.]

[The malaria bout in Illinois.]

Another aside: I had a mission companion who loved watching Legacy on preparation days or after nightly planning (and I certainly didn't protest). There was a time when we were watching this scene and she grabbed my arm:

"Sestra. Sister."
"What?"
"That is me (pointing at Eliza), and that is you (pointing at Joseph Smith)."
"It's that bad, huh?"

4. Okay, I have to be honest. One major reason I loved this film was because of the romance between Eliza and this 1840s British dreamboat:

[That guy on the left. In the brown suit and with the chiseled nose. David Walker.] 

David Walker is quite the man. Like, did the other guy even stand a chance?  

 [Now the Other Guy is on the left talking with Eliza's dad and David Walker is looking intently at Eliza, not even knowing that she's engaged to marry the other guy. But will that stop the charming David Walker? Nope.]

[The Showdown: David Walker vs. Other Guy.]

Remember the time he proposed to her on their first date? 

 ["I have little to offer but . . . these hands, my faith in the Lord, and a promise to cherish you with all my heart. And I will make you laugh." *Swoon*]

And then he gives some killer relationship advice: 

["Marriage is a grand reward for kindness."]

OKAY. STOP. PAUSE THE MOVIE. WRITE DOWN WHAT HE JUST SAID. THIS IS ACTUALLY ONE OF THE BEST PIECES OF LOVE/MARRIAGE ADVICE. EVER. 

You don't marry someone just because he or she is nice to you. Like, it's important, but it's not THE reason why. 

 [But she's still not convinced, sooooooooo . . .]

[That should do it. Because love is also exciting, happy, and splendid.]

Of course she is going to pick the attractive Englishman. Did the other guy even have a chance? I mean, she calls the other guy "Brother Jacob" and he calls her "Sister Williams." They're not even on a first name basis and they probably haven't even kissed. So, um. No contest.

[Yup. Called it. Nauvoo's newest couple. Mawwage is what bwings us together today.]

Okay, sorry about my fan-girling. Moving on . . .

5. This movie is also wonderful because it shows some wonderful Mormon woman spunk (which, I assure you, was and is found in abundance). 

Like the time Eliza represented thousands of Mormon women who crossed the plains with children and while pregnant--and who refused to give up: 

 ["If you don't go, I will carry you on my back."] 

Yeah. Don't mess with determined Mormon women. Especially determined Mormon women who have been driven out of their homes four times.

Also, this scene where she prays and asks God to heal her ox is quite memorable.

[People, this is cool. It is based on a real experienced that happened to Mary Fielding Smith. You should read about it here, here, and here.]

[all is well.] 

I loved this pioneer story because even though the events are dramatized, they represent real events that happened and people who did live. Stories of my ancestors, even. I love their stories of faith, conviction, and determination. They are inspiring.

And I know that Legacy is melodramatic. Believe me, I know. This is not meant to prove that this is the BEST MOVIE OF ALL TIME.

Because it isn't.

But I think it is a touching tribute to those who gave so much.

And their stories inspire me to give more and to be more.

But if our lives are spared again 
To see the Saints their rest obtain 
Oh how we'll make this chorus swell: 
All is well! All is well! 

And all will be well.

Victory.

Today (or yesterday now, because of the time difference), Russia, Ukraine, and other countries in Eastern Europe celebrated Victory Day. День Победы.

This year marks 70 years since the defeat of Hitler.

I know there has been a lot of controversy surrounding this Victory Day, especially with Putin's moves into Ukraine. And I know that no victory is clean. Especially in war. History is messy.

But for a moment, I just want to talk about what I gained from spending two Victory Days in Eastern Ukraine.

Before living in Eastern Ukraine, I always thought more about the battles fought on the Western Front--the Battle of the Bulge, Normandy, etc. I studied the battles where Americans fought and died, and I gained respect for what the Allies accomplished.

But we always forget about the Soviets.

It's easy to forget--or dismiss--what they did during WWII. There are a lot of reasons for that. One, war is messy and the Soviets certainly weren't angels. Also, we had that entire thing called the Cold War which happened right after WWII, and that made US-USSR relations very shaky. There are a lot of reasons to forget.

But we shouldn't.

Over 20 million Soviet citizens and soldiers died during WWII.

The number is staggering. Absolutely staggering.

And honestly--they bore the brunt of the Nazi war machine. I don't think it is even possible for us, as American citizens, to imagine the destruction that happened to the Soviet Union because of WWII. The Battle of Kursk. The Battle of Stalingrad. The 872-day Siege of Leningrad. The loss of human life . . . it is absolutely heartbreaking.

Without the Soviets, the Allies would not have won the war.

I saw the effects of WWII on the streets of Ukraine. I lived in apartments which had been built during that time. I talked with people whose grandmothers had been protected by German soldiers. I saw places where the Nazis had massacred thousands of Jews. I talked with babushki who had been little girls during the time of the war, and with grandfathers whose chests were covered with war medals. I watched a grown woman from St. Petersburg cry as she talked about how you never throw bread away--ever. It is too precious.

These people remember. It is a part of their national narrative.

My first Victory Day in Ukraine, I had little to no idea what was going on. I barely knew Russian, but I did know that there was a parade happening outside our window and the loudspeakers from the center of town blasted old Soviet music and war propaganda. I felt like I had stepped back in time to 1945.

My second Victory Day, I understood more. I talked to people about their stories. And I listened.

I also had an interesting experience the day after Victory Day. I went to a cultural event (a theatrical performance) which had a lot of sketches about WWII. My favorite sketch was towards the end, where they acted out the moment the war ends and the soldiers return home.

It was very moving--it was completely silent, except for old 1940s music playing in the background. The actors showed the moment the soldiers arrived home--it's a party. They all run to find their loved ones and they find them . . . except for one girl. She runs and runs and runs to find someone--anyone--familiar. She can't. They're all dead. She's the only one left. So she sits on the ground in shock and hurt . . . and then a little girl comes and gives her a shawl, and then leaves as quietly as she came. And I don't know what changes in the woman, but something comes alive again, and she stands up, puts herself together, and dances off the stage--alone.

There was something so beautifully crushing in that scene--the realization that nothing is the way it has been or that you had ever dreamed or planned. And it was important for me to realize that this happened to so many people in the Soviet Union. They were left with nothing and no one. It is a grief that I cannot even begin to comprehend. But this woman--to me, she epitomizes the strength of the human spirit. She represents despair, but more than that, she represents resilience.

And ultimately, that is what makes us victorious. We refuse to give up. We keep fighting. And we remember that there is good in this world. And it's worth fighting for.

Ukraine gave me a lot of things.

But one thing I am eternally grateful for is that lesson of resilience.

I learned it from the rynok ladies. I heard it from the stories I heard from babushki. I saw it in the eyes of the people on the streets.

Like I said before, history is messy. And who knows what the future holds for that broken, beautiful part of the world.

But today, I remember.

I remember the Donbass. I remember Kiev. I remember Leningrad. I remember Kharkov and Stalingrad and Moscow. I remember the lives spared and lost. I remember peace and conflict, revenge and forgiveness.

And I remember that victory always comes with a price.

I promise I do more than write papers.

But sometimes it doesn't feel like it.

Especially when I have a rough draft of an 18-paper paper due on Tuesday (helllloooooooo, History 490), plus two other term papers I haven't even thought about yet because, well, because of my history term paper (which kinda takes precedence this weekend).

But I just finished my fake rough draft of the paper. Read: I haven't put in any quotes yet/synthesized information, but I have put information down on the page . . . basically, it's like an extended outline. With gems like this:

"Note to self: More quotes from letters about how sad everyone was."

"Example: That couple Louisa talks about that got kidnapped in Austria during that one war and who were almost killed. SCARY."

"However, most Americans don't side with the French (primary source?). They side with the Prussians because they think that Napoleon III is an idiot (which is true . . .)"

And, my personal favorite:

"This is really cheesy and will be changed but right now I don't even know how. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Oh, you know, just a day in the life of your favorite English major/history minor.

But. I did finish a big project for the day. Which means STUDY BREAK! Like, a real one that is more than just quick Facebook-ing or Pinterest-ing. Which, don't get me wrong. I love those study breaks, too. Especially when you find gems like this on Pinterest:

[yes. yes. all the yes.] 

[this one really shouldn't be that funny to me . . . but I can't stop laughing.]

Um, it's amazing that I get anything done.

Seeking vs. Assuming

Last summer I had the wonderful opportunity of interning at the Church History Library in Salt Lake City. In addition to working in the archives and getting to learn and write about the lives of incredible Mormon women, I also enjoyed time to ponder to-and-from work on the Front Runner and during lunch on Temple Square. Another perk of the Church History Library is that they have good Mormon artwork on all of their walls--the kind of artwork that you wish your chapel had. [Now, I know a lot of people would disagree with me. I know that what makes "good" art is an entirely different debate and not one I want to enter right now. I also know that Church art serves its purpose . . . but for this blog post, just know that my favorite Mormon artists are Walter Rane and Minerva Teichert. And that the Church History Library has a lot of paintings by Walter Rane and Minerva Teichert, so it made me happy.]

Anyway, one of my favorite things was when I first got to work. I would climb up the back stairs of the Church History Library, reach the third floor, open the door, and turn left.

And there, on the far left wall, was one of my favorite paintings of the First Vision.

by Walter Rane 

I love this picture for many reasons. I think what I love the most is the look in Joseph's face. That look of surprise, relief, and awe that is evident in his eyes. He had no idea what his question would bring. But I love how he looks straight up and is bathed in light--an answer after months and years of seeking. He looks up in wonder, never expecting that the greatest theophany since the New Testament would happen to him. He had faith that God would answer him, but Joseph did not know that Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, would appear to him to answer his heartfelt question and soothe his fears. 

In Ukraine, there was a dear investigator who also loved this painting of the First Vision. "That's how I feel," he said. "I feel like that boy. Looking up, asking, but confused. Not sure what's going to happen next. But asking." 

I think that's beautiful. Because when it comes down to it, the story and experience of the First Vision is our own. I'm not saying that each of us will--or that we even need to--see the Father and the Son in this lifetime. But I do believe that we have to find out for ourselves that God lives and that He loves us. We have to seek His face, because if we do not comprehend God, we cannot comprehend ourselves. 

And in order to gain that light and knowledge, we have to seek. We have to seek, ask, and knock, and be willing to receive. 

As a student of history, and especially as a student of Church history, I think a lot about the connections between faith and history. Some people think that it's not possible to combine faith, reason, and history--that no true historian can bring faith into her studies, and that history is godless and undermining to faith and testimony. 

I disagree. 

My study of history has strengthened my faith. Not because I blindly believe what I am taught or that I refuse to accept historical facts. Because it is important to be thoughtful when learning by study and by faith. But in all areas of study, it is important that we do not come from a place of assumption. To assume from a place of belief or disbelief is dangerous because the assumption of  "Oh, I already know that," or, "There's no way that could have happened--it just doesn't work that way," leads to intellectual and spiritual pitfalls. 

The body and spirit, heart and mind need to go together. To place one over the other leads to neglect and makes it so we miss out on beautiful insights. Assuming closes us off to finding truth, and it closes our hearts to empathy and understanding. 

In matters of faith, reason, and history, it is important to seek rather to assume. Seeking requires action. It requires humility and going outside of your intellectual and spiritual comfort zone to ask questions . . . and to realize that there are some things that you might not ever understand. Not because the answers aren't there, but because our understanding or tools we have at the moment are inadequate. But we keep looking and keep seeking. Someday the answers will come. 

A willing, seeking mind is the first step to receiving revelation from God. It is also the first step in learning--whether academically or spiritually.  Just as Joseph Smith would not have received increased light and knowledge if he had not prepared himself  to seek answers to his questions, we close ourselves off to more light, knowledge, and truth if we choose not to seek. 

Seeking and faith go hand-in-hand. And something I have learned as I have tried to be a seeker of truth is the power of mercy and redemption. History is messy. It just is. It's not pretty. Church history is not pristine, either. Because history--any kind of history--deals with people. Imperfect, vain, clueless, scared, trying people. But, just because history is messy does not take away from those things that I have learned for myself to be true. Most importantly, I have learned about the absolute need for a Savior. We all need saving. We are a people in need of a Savior. His Atonement is real, and His work will go forth. 

But we have to find that out for ourselves. It is an individual journey into the Sacred Grove. But the answers are there. 

The question is whether or not we will choose to seek them. 

Sufferin' Until Suffrage

Today is the 94th anniversary of the passage of the 19th Amendment!

So, in honor of US women's right to vote, I'm including some of my favorite music videos about women's suffrage.

Like this one.



Dear, dear, Mrs. Banks. Well done, Sister Suffragette. [and yes. I KNOW that this song is about the suffrage movement in Britain, not America. But just deal with it. It's a great song. And it's about suffrage. And both American and British suffragists worked, campaigned, and went to jail to try to get the right to vote. So I feel like it's a solidarity in sisterhood kind of thing.]

Next up--another blast from the past. Enter the groovy and catchy tunes from Schoolhouse Rock. I mean, this is about as 1970s as you can get. Bell-bottoms and as many "right ons" and "yeahs" you'd ever want. And it's great.



Okay, last one. Just to let you know, it's a mixture of slightly disturbing and awesome. It's a spoof of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" music video (which I've actually never seen--but that's what people tell me), so there are some parts that are straight up weird. Nothing too weird--I think it's hilarious and does a good job of being pretty historical accurate (that is, for a Lady Gaga parody). But if you are looking for a historical, avant garde music video that depicts the American woman's fight for suffrage in the early part of the twentieth-century, this video is for you.



Now all of these songs will be stuck in your head. Simultaneously.

What I did last summer, part 1

So. I realize that I have neglected documenting some pretty important parts of my summer, namely, a pretty cool internship and wonderful trips across the country to see sights, do research, and visit family and friends.

That needs to be fixed.

So, first things first.

INTERNSHIP.

I had the wonderful opportunity this summer to intern at the Church History Library in Salt Lake City. I traveled up to Salt Lake every week and lived every history student's dream--I worked in the archives. I got to handle 19th-century and 20th-century papers and artifacts AND IT WAS AWESOME.

My supervisor is currently working on a project about Mormon women discourses, which basically means that we collected talks given by Mormon women from the 1830s to now, and we put together a "best-of" book of some of the most inspiring talks from each decade. This book will be available to the general public and is meant to be used as a resource for people preparing talks for church meetings. My job was to research bio information for each of the women that we decided to include in the book.

So, I spent the summer researching the lives of lesser-known 20th-century Mormon women.

I know some people would think that is boring and useless.

I disagree.

If there is anything my internship taught me, it is that truly, we all have a story to tell. And the story of Mormon women is not a story to be swept under the rug. Mormon women truly are incredible and dynamic. These women's stories reminded me that Mormon women are not shrinking violets. It takes courage to rebuild a mission destroyed by WWII. It takes a different kind of bravery to close a mission because of war. It takes dedication and awareness to be involved in civic duties--from humanitarian aid to literacy committees. And it takes commitment to choose to live your faith.

Because when it comes down to it, faith is a choice.

And it is a conscious choice.

Faith is power.

And I believe that Mormon women are powerful because they are faithful.

"That I do not accept the faith that possessed them [the Mormon pioneers] does not mean I doubt their frequent devotion and heroism in its service. Especially their women. Their women were incredible." --Wallace Stegner, The Gathering of Zion. 

Minerva Teichart, Not Alone 

Anyway. I'm off my soapbox now. 

Basically, my internship was great. Mormon women are great. Church history is great. 

I think I'm going to eat some ice cream now. 

You'd think I'd have at least ONE decent picture of me dressed as a pioneer

. . . especially when I wanted to be one for more than half of my life.

You think I am exaggerating? I am not.

Growing up, I loved pioneer stories. Loved. them. I secretly always wondered why I had been born in the 1990s instead of the 1820s.

I forced my sisters to play pioneers with me and we would trek across our living room in lieu of the Great Plains.

And, of course, this:

Oregon Trail, baby. And not just Oregon Trail. Oregon Trail TWO. Best game in the history of my life. I am dead serious.

I was a PRO at this game. And when I say pro, I mean pro. I could give you advice on any situation the game . . . and I would. And still can.

For example: Merchants' packages of supplies? Not even worth it. Just go buy your own stuff. 

Sorry, Joe Schmoe with the tacky plaid suit. I will not sell you my ox for your bacon. Because we are still in town and I will need that ox when I cross Rocky Ridge. 

Hunting for buffalo! But don't hunt too much or else game will become scarce and you will probably end up accidentally shooting yourself or getting mauled by a cougar. 

"This river doesn't look too deep. Let's ford it." Famous last words. Caulk the wagons and float! That's the way to do it every time . . . unless it's like 2 and 1/2 feet deep (and even then, it was usually my luck that the wagon would still tip over). 

Oooh, the infamous dysentery. He doesn't stand a chance. 

See? Anatharon has died. Poor Anatharon. He probably died of dysentery. Let's be honest, it's Oregon Trail. We KNOW he died of dysentery. 

In short, I LOVED OREGON TRAIL. So much so that I would often act it out while playing the computer game. While wearing a bonnet and an apron. I have no shame.

The only shameful thing is that I have no pictures of this. None at all. There is not one good picture of me dressed as a pioneer.

People, I wanted to be a pioneer. I wanted to be one of those pioneer children who sang as they walked, and walked, and walked, and walked. I wrote "pioneer diaries" in correspondence with my cousins as we would pretend to be Mormon pioneers leaving Nauvoo, camping in Winter Quarters, and coming across the plains. It was basically like a Mormon Pioneer soap opera. I mean, look at this brilliant writing:

"Katherine and Melissa's father, my uncle, passed away, and we all mourn as much as we can, which is quite a bit because the winters are dismal. It's only been about a month since we've been stranded here, but how I wish for spring to come. Snow, what little there is, is depressing." 

"Dear Diary, I have noticed that Katherine seems to be a little bit jealous of me because I'm sick and I get a lot of attention. Does she know how much pain I suffer?" 

"James is getting sick again. We were talking yesterday and suddenly he started coughing uncontrollably. I felt his forehead and nearly scorched off some of my skin. It is awful." 

And, the family favorite: 

Megan (aka Melissa): "Father blessed me before he died. He said that if I would hold to the iron rod I would be able to endure." 

Kyra (aka Katherine): "Father blessed me. He said that if I would hold to the iron rod I would become great and marry a wonderful, righteous man." 

Leslie (aka Jolie): "Katherine is sweet, but she is a few feet down the iron rod. I mean that in the best way possible." 

This is quality writing here, folks. I don't know why were weren't awarded the Pulitzer. 

If you need further proof of my love of pioneers, you can look at my cousin Kyra's blog post from about two years ago where she also talks about how we would all play pioneers together. 

But despite my obsession, not one decent picture. It is a travesty. 

[okay, okay, okay. I did find one picture. But it is from my awkward stage. Which lasted from 5th grade until I was 17. Sooooo, that was a long time. And I don't think social media is quite ready to see my awkward stage.]

Oh, and I finally found this picture!!!!

So, one. One decent-ish picture from all of my time dreaming of becoming a pioneer. And I'm not even wearing a bonnet. 

All of the other pictures I found were ones where I thought it was us dressed up in cute little pioneer dresses . . . and then I realized that it was the 90s. And a lot of little girls' outfits kind of look pioneer-ish.

We're still cute, though. 

Oh, and I found this picture. It is from the sesquicentennial anniversary celebration of the Mormon pioneers making it to the Salt Lake Valley on July 24th, 1847.

Yeah, not so good. We are clearly blinded by the pure awesomeness that is the pioneer spirit. 

Still, in all seriousness, I have always loved pioneers--I've loved their bravery, dedication, and vision for the future. I am honored to be descended from some incredible pioneers--and not just those who crossed the plains in 1847, but those who came to America in hopes of a better life and in order to freely worship God. I'm grateful for the examples of my parents--both of them are pioneers in my eyes. It's not easy to be the first one; it requires bravery and faith. [FYI, President Uchtdorf just gave a wonderful speech about the pioneers. You can read it here.]

And I'm grateful that we have a day to celebrate the "builders of the nation" and remember that all will be well for us, too. 

Even if I don't have any photographic evidence.

It's Story Time

Remember how I have a wise-cracking history professor? Well, he told a story today that I just have to share with the blogosphere. This story will be particularly interesting to the BYU undergraduate/BYU graduate demographic who reads my blog (which, in all honesty, is about 98% of my blog readers).

My history professor came in today telling us he had a story. It didn't have anything to do with what we learned about in class, but rather it was a test-run for when he will teach American Heritage in a few years--he wanted to kind of test the waters with smaller crowd before he stands up in front of 800 freshmen. 

While my history professor was at BYU during the late 1980s, he had a roommate who had a very particular set of criteria for the woman he wanted to marry. The roommate had two points that were essential for his future wife: 

1. She had to be 5'9" or taller. He was 6'2" and of a medium-build, and he wanted superstar basketball-playing children. He figured the only way he'd get them was if he married a tall woman. 

2. He wanted a woman that was strong, independent, and career-driven. 

Around this time, there was a letter-to-the-editor published in the Daily Universe. The letter was extremely misogynistic and sexist. The author of the letter complained that there were "too many women" on campus, and that they were taking up spaces that should have gone to men, since men were the ones that should be getting higher education in order to prepare for careers, and that it wasn't worth it to educate women. 

(Quick note: I've looked everywhere for a copy of this letter, but my Google skills have proved in vain so far. However, I do know that I've read this letter-to-the-editor . . . freshmen writing professors often use it as an example of rhetoric gone wrong and as a prompt for students to respond back to and get angry/passionate about. The first time I read it I was a training to be a tutor at the Writing Center and we were learning about what to do if we have to tutor a student who has written an extremely offensive paper . . . yes, a letter like this definitely counts as extremely offensive. Anyway, I know that this letter is still widely circulated, and many people on campus have read it.)  

annnnnnnd, we're back. Anyway, a student had written this extremely offensive and sexist letter-to-the-editor. My history professor didn't know anything about it--I guess he hadn't read the Daily Universe that day, and this was before the social media heyday. Today, if someone wrote a letter like that, it would be all over people's Facebook pages and he would be torn apart. Back in 1989, there wasn't an option like that. 

But there were house phones, and you could call the BYU operator and get anyone's number. 

So one evening, my history professor was just sitting at home when the phone rang. He answered it, and a woman's voice asked, 

"Is so-and-so [my history professor's roommate] there?" 

History Professor: "Yeah, I'll go get him." 

Once his roommate was on the phone, my history professor could only hear his side of the conversation. It went something like this: 

"Hello? [complete silence for a minute or two] Yeah. Oh yes, that's a good point. You have a really good point. This is really important. You know, I'd love to talk more about this with you. Is there a time that would work for you to go to lunch sometime this week and we could discuss this more?" 

They'd set a date, and then end the conversation. 

My history professor was really confused, so his roommate explained to him that . . . 

He was the one who wrote the offensive letter-to-the-editor! 

And it wasn't really what he believed at all! It was--

1) A social satire 

and 

2) A way to go on dates with the types of girls he was interested in! 

It was all a ploy! 

He wanted to meet strong-willed, driven, independent women, and this was his way of getting to meet the boldest-of-the-bold on BYU campus. He would take them to lunch, they'd talk, and then he'd be like, "You know, you've opened my eyes on this subject and I'd love to talk more with you sometime about this later. Could we meet again?" Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. 

But he did go out with about 10-15 of these women that called him. 

I was floored when I found out. I was laughing so hard. It's hilarious . . . and then unnerving at the same time. But I still can't get over the fact that this letter which is used to lambast narrow-minded thinkers was actually all a cunning, clever plan to meet women. I mean . . . wow. Just wow. Just--no words. 

So, there you have it. The true motives behind this letter-to-the-editor-fiasco.

By the way, since I know you're wondering, this guy did find a wife who was over 5'9" and who was smart, strong-willed, and career-driven. But it wasn't any of the women who called him. No, my history professor met a girl in his English class (which, by the way, is a good place to find determined women) who was 5'10" and who he thought would be a perfect match for his roommate. He set them up, they got married, and they have sons who are 6'6" and play basketball. 

Remember, remember

Today is a memorial day. 
It's the 150th anniversary of the Gettysburg Address. 
A four-minute speech that changed the world and gives us something to aspire to. 
Words of hope. Inspiration. Dedication. 

It is important to reflect and remember, because it helps us to reconsider where we're going and who we really want to be. 

There is so much to be said . . . too much to be said well. But I think that reading Mr. Lincoln's words is enough to help us remember the sacrifices of the past, which were made to give life to the hopes of the future. 

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863

History Nerd Moment

So if my last post didn't cast me as a nerd, this one takes the cake.

In my History 328 class (Modern German History), we have the coolest assignment EVER.

My professor received a grant that gave him some micro-reels which document the correspondence between the American ambassador in Berlin and Washington. And we get to view these micro-reels, make them into PDFs, and transcribe them!

People, this is cool.

There were people in my class getting dispatches from John Jay in Vienna! And dispatches from the Franco-Prussian War! And from the siege of Paris!

I don't know what mine will have in it yet (my professor didn't tell me), but I am sooo excited to find out.

 That blue thing is the micro-reel from the National Archives. 

 The micro-reel! 

Me being a super-happy nerd. 

Seriously, folks, this is like Christmas for history nerds. I just need 4-5 hours in the library to find out what's in store! 

Happy Birthday, America!

Today's a good day to remember.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. . . . And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor."

"O beautiful for patriot dream which sees beyond the years. Thine alabaster cities gleam undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed His grace on thee. And crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea!" --Katherine Lee Bates, America the Beautiful 

"O thus be it ever when free men shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation

Blessed with vict'ry and peace, may the heaven-rescued land

Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation!

Then conquer we must when our cause it is just

And this be our motto: 'In God is our trust!'

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!"

--Francis Scott Key, The Star-Spangled Banner 

"The longer I live, the more convinced I become that God governs in the affairs of men." -- Benjamin Franklin

Battle of Brooklyn Heights. One of my favorite stories from the Revolutionary War. Miracles happened that day. Read about it here. 

 "It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." --Abraham Lincoln, Gettysburg Address 

"Behold, this is a choice land, and whatsoever nation shall possess it shall be free from bondage, and from captivity, and from all other nations under heaven, if they will but serve the God of the land, who is Jesus Christ, who hath been manifested by the things which we have written." --Ether 2:12, The Book of Mormon 

Let us remember those who came before us. Those who dreamed, worked, fought, and died to make us free.

Let us stand for liberty, and remember "our father's God . . . author of liberty," and the only Way we can remain free.

Happy Independence Day.

Hope of America

Every year, the Freedom Festival presents the “Hope of America” program. Six thousand 5^th-grade students from around Utah fill the Marriott Center with patriotic music and enthusiasm, and create a giant American flag (see below).

Not this year, but you get the picture. (No pun intended but you can laugh anyway.)

It really is quite stirring.

I’ve been to this performance a few times. I was never in it (I moved to Utah Valley when I was in sixth grade), but all of my siblings were. So, naturally, I know all the music. By heart. However, I don’t know the actions. Therefore—like my sisters tell me—I am a deprived child.

But anyway.

Tonight it was my brother’s year to perform.

While I watched the program, I was touched by the sincerity and optimism of the children’s patriotism. It is good to be reminded of the promise of America—of promises fulfilled, of dreams to come. I am not ashamed to admit that I did feel pride tonight: pride for my country, and pride for the children who sang.

There really is so much good in America. Goodness knows we’re not perfect. There is a lot to improve upon. There is a lot to remember. But there are genuinely good people who desire to hold up the ideals of liberty and justice. There are people who die for to preserve and uphold that liberty. And, there are so many people who live to uphold liberty. My limited, imperfect words can't adequately express my deep love for this nation and its people. 

The children who sang tonight truly are the hope of America. They are the next generation of leaders—those who lead by word, and those who lead by example. They were an example to me tonight. I hope to take their optimism, their willingness to serve, their enthusiasm, and their faith to heart. People say that children teach us the most important things. I believe they do this by helping us remember the important things. 

She Walks in Beauty

Spring is here.

It’s so beautiful—the rain-bright days, the cool breezes, the flowers blooming everywhere, the sun-warmed grass . . . ah. I am in love.

On Sunday, Sharisa and I went around campus and just gloried in the miracle of spring.

This beauty greets me every day as I go to school. 

Rain-kissed petals 

 Campus = so beautiful! 

 One of my favorite trees on campus.

 Unlike T.S. Eliot claims, April is not the cruelest month (for me, anyway). 

 See? April makes me happy. 

 "For the temple is a house of God; a place of love and beauty." 

 These flowers smell so good! Does anyone know what they are called?

 Bright, happy flowers touched with yellow gold. 

 Hello, Moroni!

 Breath-taking clouds and view of the valley. 

 Avenue of Blossoms 

I live in such a beautiful place. 

Happy Springtime! 

***Tangent Alert!*** In other news, today is Patriots' Day—it’s the 236^th anniversary of the Shot Heard ‘Round the World. So . . . Happy Patriots' Day!

This is me two summers ago at the Minuteman Monument. Concord, Massachusetts. 

This is the Old North Bridge. Concord, Massachusetts.