On the sweetness of Mormon life. You have heard that the Bishop wants you to put together a ward campout. you jot a few notes. One of them–give a young man the charge of running a night game of ninja, capture the flag, or sardines in a can. You relish the names of these games.
After the speaker, a father and son come to the satnad to sing a hymn. the father–muscled, sinewy, a flat-topped state trooper. The son–prissy, self-possessed, groomed. The sing one of the old American folk hymns. Your ward chorister, a high-school girl, accompanies on her flute. At the end, the two men are both smiling and crying. You too.