This is Mike. As I mentioned in an earlier family history posting, my sister Crystal asked if I would put down some recollections of the early days of our family’s introduction and growth in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Thinking back, much of the early interactions with the missionaries who taught my mother, sister Lisa, and my dad are second hand. This is true because I was only seven years old, and had the attention span to go with that age. I think it fair to say that at that age I would have been more distraction than participant. Now that I mention it, that’s probably as much true today as then.
The story as I recall hearing from our mother was that she was visiting her friend, Dorothy (Dot) Mowery (spelling?) on a Saturday back in the early ‘70s as was her norm back then. The missionaries knocked on Dot’s door during the visit. Their names were Elder Drew Smith of Montpelier, Idaho, and Elder Jackson (don’t remember his first name) of Draper, Utah. For someone like me who could not remember being anywhere except in the immediate area of where we lived, these sounded like far away exotic places.
Out of pity maybe, the ladies allowed the young men in for some water. Out of politeness they listened to the message. For Dot, this was as far as the commitment went. For Mom, the discussion peaked an interest she had on the topic of religion for some time. Both sides of the family were not overly devout, and there were a variety of sects represented within the extended family. Our parents were not at the time partial to any in particular, so our church attendance was held to maybe once or twice a year, and rarely to the same church from one occasion to the next.
Since Dot offered little sympathy for the missionary message and Mom seemed interested, they young men asked if they could visit our home the next Saturday. She was uneasy about the idea as Dad had physically tossed, I mean that in the literal sense, two members of the Jehovah’s Witnesses church off our porch just a few weeks earlier, grasping one in each hand as he marched them from the front door to the bottom of the porch steps.
Due to Mom’s apprehension, the four agreed to meet the follow week at Dot’s house again. The next week came. Mom and the missionaries showed up. Dot was not home, or at least did not answer the door. Reluctantly, Mom agreed to meet the missionaries back at our house. She supposed Dad to be on a Navy Reserve drill that weekend and expected him to be gone. She was wrong. When they arrived he was there. Thankfully, he was more tolerant of these two young men. Maybe it was because they were less hell-fire-and-brimstone than their Jehovah’s Witnesses counterparts. Maybe it was because Mom had invited them. Maybe it was because they were not interrupting whatever he was doing between cigarettes and a weekend can of beer. Whatever the reason, he not only failed to object, but he stayed and listened.
That’s the gist of the story. A few weeks later, Mom and Lisa were baptized in the Berwick YMCA swimming pool. I came later the next year after tuning eight (another write up for another day). Dad took longer as he struggled with giving up smoking.
I don’t know that I have any pictures to share. Perhaps somewhere in the family history items Mom left behind we can find one. If I do I’ll update this post with what I find.
The story as I recall hearing from our mother was that she was visiting her friend, Dorothy (Dot) Mowery (spelling?) on a Saturday back in the early ‘70s as was her norm back then. The missionaries knocked on Dot’s door during the visit. Their names were Elder Drew Smith of Montpelier, Idaho, and Elder Jackson (don’t remember his first name) of Draper, Utah. For someone like me who could not remember being anywhere except in the immediate area of where we lived, these sounded like far away exotic places.
Out of pity maybe, the ladies allowed the young men in for some water. Out of politeness they listened to the message. For Dot, this was as far as the commitment went. For Mom, the discussion peaked an interest she had on the topic of religion for some time. Both sides of the family were not overly devout, and there were a variety of sects represented within the extended family. Our parents were not at the time partial to any in particular, so our church attendance was held to maybe once or twice a year, and rarely to the same church from one occasion to the next.
Since Dot offered little sympathy for the missionary message and Mom seemed interested, they young men asked if they could visit our home the next Saturday. She was uneasy about the idea as Dad had physically tossed, I mean that in the literal sense, two members of the Jehovah’s Witnesses church off our porch just a few weeks earlier, grasping one in each hand as he marched them from the front door to the bottom of the porch steps.
Due to Mom’s apprehension, the four agreed to meet the follow week at Dot’s house again. The next week came. Mom and the missionaries showed up. Dot was not home, or at least did not answer the door. Reluctantly, Mom agreed to meet the missionaries back at our house. She supposed Dad to be on a Navy Reserve drill that weekend and expected him to be gone. She was wrong. When they arrived he was there. Thankfully, he was more tolerant of these two young men. Maybe it was because they were less hell-fire-and-brimstone than their Jehovah’s Witnesses counterparts. Maybe it was because Mom had invited them. Maybe it was because they were not interrupting whatever he was doing between cigarettes and a weekend can of beer. Whatever the reason, he not only failed to object, but he stayed and listened.
That’s the gist of the story. A few weeks later, Mom and Lisa were baptized in the Berwick YMCA swimming pool. I came later the next year after tuning eight (another write up for another day). Dad took longer as he struggled with giving up smoking.
I don’t know that I have any pictures to share. Perhaps somewhere in the family history items Mom left behind we can find one. If I do I’ll update this post with what I find.
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