This is Mike sharing some early church memories as requested by my sister, Crystal Dunn.
Although each of our baptisms were the same in that the ordinance is a consistent priesthood act, yet for each of us the journey and experience was different. To be clear, I certainly don’t assume to speak on behalf of other members of our family regarding their baptismal experience. I only have a few flashes of memory of my own. Witnessing those of the others my role was as a third-party observer, and a young uninformed observer at that. There is a lingering story out there that I may have greeted the missionaries on occasion with a shot or two from my bb-gun. I may have even perpetuated that story, but in reality I don’t remember that happening. Others may have their own recollections.
My mother and sister Lisa were first to be baptized. They were actively participating in the missionary discussions. My father sat in on the discussions mostly as well, though likely less engaged in the conversation. I don’t really remember participating in the discussions more than the typical rough-housing with the missionaries before and after. I was only seven years old at the time. The missionaries that taught us at the time was Elder Drew Smith from Montpeiler, ID and Elder Jackson (don’t remember his first name) from Draper, UT. My mom managed to stay in contact with Drew Smith, but we lost touch with Elder Jackson. That’s always saddened me a bit as Drew was able to see some of the fruits of his labor. His companion has not had the pleasure.
That first experience with baptism in our family took place in an indoor pool at the Berwick YMCA. It was winter time and cold. The pool was a typical lap-swim style with four or five lanes. There was a shallow end and deep end with diving boards. The baptisms were at the shallow end of course. That’s really about as much as I remember about the event. At the time we were still attending the Sunbury, PA branch.
My baptism happened later. I turned eight in April. Sometime after, my parents and local church leaders realized my birthday had passed and I should be considered for baptism. There must have been some agreement that I needed to have my own experience with the missionary discussions, so I met with the newest set of missionaries. I didn’t remember either of them and have since felt bad about that. As I sifted through the picture book my mom left for me I found a baptism picture. She wrote in the caption that it was Elder Rick Hart doing the baptism. I really don’t remember much about the discussions other than I remember understanding the basics, and more importantly I felt baptism was the right thing to do. By this time the Berwick Branch had formed and we were meeting in the local justice-of-the-peace court building.
The ordinance took place in June in wonderfully warm weather. Unlike my mom and sister, I was joined by another youngster from our branch. I don’t remember his name. We did not go into the YMCA pool, or any other man-made structure. Rather, we wandered out into the woods outside of town and held the baptism in a creek. To give you an idea, on the edge of town was a large dairy. The dairy was surrounded by large corn fields where they raised feed for the cows. I was very familiar with this area as it was a regular place for kids in our part of town to ride our bikes. We would often run through the rows of corn when it got high. We also sometimes ‘procured’ ears of corn in late fall to fill bags of the hard seeds for Halloween ‘corning’. This would be something very familiar to kids of that area and era. I assume the idea of corning is probably lost on most readers of this little history (if there are any readers). I don’t remember the name of the dairy, and a quick look on the ‘net seems to suggest it no longer exists. If you look at a map it was located about where Orange St. and Freas Ave. cross each other. The stream in question is called East Branch Briar Creek.
I remember we all just parked off of the side of the road on a little dirt patch. At the edge of the dirt there was a small narrow footpath leading through a green weedy field for a short distance before entering the woods. There was a little bit of effort walking along the creek bank until a sufficiently deep pool was located and the bank was easily accessible for getting into and out of the water. I don’t remember which of us were baptized first. I felt very special all dressed in white. I remember my parents were both smiling. After the ordinance was done and I climbed out of the creek, someone put a towel over me and my parents both gave me a hug. The feelings were peaceful. I felt very happy and I knew immediately I had done the right thing.
My dad took more time to make the commitment. He participated in branch activities and attended church regularly. I’m not sure what all he wrestled with. I do know he was able to agree to tithing, and living part of the word of wisdom, putting aside coffee and alcohol pretty much immediately. The one struggle I do remember was his addiction to tobacco. He smoked cigarettes mostly, though he would entertain the occasional pipe while sitting on the front porch on a summer evening. As a kid, one of my chores was to roll smokes for him. He would buy the white paper with a little bit of paste on one edge, much like one would find on a letter envelope. He would buy shredded tobacco from a company called Bugle and it came in small cans. He had a little rolling machine that was essentially a strip of paper that was rough but flexible. It had a lever on a frame that was a little shorter than the rolling paper and a little wider than the length of a cigarette. My job was to lick the paper, put it into the roller, add enough tobacco, then move the lever until the paper rolled around the tobacco. I did hundreds of these for him.
Eventually he decided to try to quit. He tried cutting down gradually. It didn’t work for him. He got some sort of drug from the doctor. It didn’t help either. Eventually he went cold turkey. Mom warned us to stay away for a few weeks as he would likely be short-tempered as he went through withdrawal. I don’t actually remember him being any different other than he seemed to take up constant gum chewing during the transition. I don’t remember how long he went after that before his baptism happened, but it must have been winter time again because we were back at the YMCA. The only unusual thing I can remember about his baptism was after the ordinance, he was so excited that he swam a lap back and forth across the pool.
My brother Dan had an experience similar to my own. A young girl from the branch joined his service to be baptized at the same time. We drove up to what was Harmony, PA in early church history to visit the area (if not the specific site) where Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery were the first people to be baptized in this dispensation of the gospel. What was the town of Harmony is now the two towns of Oakland and Susquehanna. When we arrived, the only footprint of the church was a historical marker along the road. There is much more to see there now. We parked near the marker and followed the footpath through the woods heading to the bank of the Susquehanna River. A short walk along the bank led us to a small spot where an eddy had formed on the side of the river. The water swirled in and out of the eddy to such a point that it formed a small circle in the bank almost exactly the size of a baptismal font. I’m not sure if this was natural or someone dug it out that way. In either case, we were alone as family of the two, and some additional branch members. Dan will have to say more than that if he has a mind to. I know I really enjoyed the surroundings and the event.
Finally, our youngest sister, Crystal, was baptized after our move to Utah. Her ordinance was in a fount at a chapel and scheduled in with other youngsters of similar age from around the Brigham City North Stake. She too will have to fill in more than that. I don’t remember anything unusual except that I remember her as being very happy. As her big brother I was happy for her.
Although each of our baptisms were the same in that the ordinance is a consistent priesthood act, yet for each of us the journey and experience was different. To be clear, I certainly don’t assume to speak on behalf of other members of our family regarding their baptismal experience. I only have a few flashes of memory of my own. Witnessing those of the others my role was as a third-party observer, and a young uninformed observer at that. There is a lingering story out there that I may have greeted the missionaries on occasion with a shot or two from my bb-gun. I may have even perpetuated that story, but in reality I don’t remember that happening. Others may have their own recollections.
My mother and sister Lisa were first to be baptized. They were actively participating in the missionary discussions. My father sat in on the discussions mostly as well, though likely less engaged in the conversation. I don’t really remember participating in the discussions more than the typical rough-housing with the missionaries before and after. I was only seven years old at the time. The missionaries that taught us at the time was Elder Drew Smith from Montpeiler, ID and Elder Jackson (don’t remember his first name) from Draper, UT. My mom managed to stay in contact with Drew Smith, but we lost touch with Elder Jackson. That’s always saddened me a bit as Drew was able to see some of the fruits of his labor. His companion has not had the pleasure.
That first experience with baptism in our family took place in an indoor pool at the Berwick YMCA. It was winter time and cold. The pool was a typical lap-swim style with four or five lanes. There was a shallow end and deep end with diving boards. The baptisms were at the shallow end of course. That’s really about as much as I remember about the event. At the time we were still attending the Sunbury, PA branch.
My baptism happened later. I turned eight in April. Sometime after, my parents and local church leaders realized my birthday had passed and I should be considered for baptism. There must have been some agreement that I needed to have my own experience with the missionary discussions, so I met with the newest set of missionaries. I didn’t remember either of them and have since felt bad about that. As I sifted through the picture book my mom left for me I found a baptism picture. She wrote in the caption that it was Elder Rick Hart doing the baptism. I really don’t remember much about the discussions other than I remember understanding the basics, and more importantly I felt baptism was the right thing to do. By this time the Berwick Branch had formed and we were meeting in the local justice-of-the-peace court building.
The ordinance took place in June in wonderfully warm weather. Unlike my mom and sister, I was joined by another youngster from our branch. I don’t remember his name. We did not go into the YMCA pool, or any other man-made structure. Rather, we wandered out into the woods outside of town and held the baptism in a creek. To give you an idea, on the edge of town was a large dairy. The dairy was surrounded by large corn fields where they raised feed for the cows. I was very familiar with this area as it was a regular place for kids in our part of town to ride our bikes. We would often run through the rows of corn when it got high. We also sometimes ‘procured’ ears of corn in late fall to fill bags of the hard seeds for Halloween ‘corning’. This would be something very familiar to kids of that area and era. I assume the idea of corning is probably lost on most readers of this little history (if there are any readers). I don’t remember the name of the dairy, and a quick look on the ‘net seems to suggest it no longer exists. If you look at a map it was located about where Orange St. and Freas Ave. cross each other. The stream in question is called East Branch Briar Creek.
I remember we all just parked off of the side of the road on a little dirt patch. At the edge of the dirt there was a small narrow footpath leading through a green weedy field for a short distance before entering the woods. There was a little bit of effort walking along the creek bank until a sufficiently deep pool was located and the bank was easily accessible for getting into and out of the water. I don’t remember which of us were baptized first. I felt very special all dressed in white. I remember my parents were both smiling. After the ordinance was done and I climbed out of the creek, someone put a towel over me and my parents both gave me a hug. The feelings were peaceful. I felt very happy and I knew immediately I had done the right thing.
My dad took more time to make the commitment. He participated in branch activities and attended church regularly. I’m not sure what all he wrestled with. I do know he was able to agree to tithing, and living part of the word of wisdom, putting aside coffee and alcohol pretty much immediately. The one struggle I do remember was his addiction to tobacco. He smoked cigarettes mostly, though he would entertain the occasional pipe while sitting on the front porch on a summer evening. As a kid, one of my chores was to roll smokes for him. He would buy the white paper with a little bit of paste on one edge, much like one would find on a letter envelope. He would buy shredded tobacco from a company called Bugle and it came in small cans. He had a little rolling machine that was essentially a strip of paper that was rough but flexible. It had a lever on a frame that was a little shorter than the rolling paper and a little wider than the length of a cigarette. My job was to lick the paper, put it into the roller, add enough tobacco, then move the lever until the paper rolled around the tobacco. I did hundreds of these for him.
Eventually he decided to try to quit. He tried cutting down gradually. It didn’t work for him. He got some sort of drug from the doctor. It didn’t help either. Eventually he went cold turkey. Mom warned us to stay away for a few weeks as he would likely be short-tempered as he went through withdrawal. I don’t actually remember him being any different other than he seemed to take up constant gum chewing during the transition. I don’t remember how long he went after that before his baptism happened, but it must have been winter time again because we were back at the YMCA. The only unusual thing I can remember about his baptism was after the ordinance, he was so excited that he swam a lap back and forth across the pool.
My brother Dan had an experience similar to my own. A young girl from the branch joined his service to be baptized at the same time. We drove up to what was Harmony, PA in early church history to visit the area (if not the specific site) where Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery were the first people to be baptized in this dispensation of the gospel. What was the town of Harmony is now the two towns of Oakland and Susquehanna. When we arrived, the only footprint of the church was a historical marker along the road. There is much more to see there now. We parked near the marker and followed the footpath through the woods heading to the bank of the Susquehanna River. A short walk along the bank led us to a small spot where an eddy had formed on the side of the river. The water swirled in and out of the eddy to such a point that it formed a small circle in the bank almost exactly the size of a baptismal font. I’m not sure if this was natural or someone dug it out that way. In either case, we were alone as family of the two, and some additional branch members. Dan will have to say more than that if he has a mind to. I know I really enjoyed the surroundings and the event.
Finally, our youngest sister, Crystal, was baptized after our move to Utah. Her ordinance was in a fount at a chapel and scheduled in with other youngsters of similar age from around the Brigham City North Stake. She too will have to fill in more than that. I don’t remember anything unusual except that I remember her as being very happy. As her big brother I was happy for her.
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