A Door to Old Aprils and to Octobers Gone

You listen to a nice Sacrament talk from your daughter on the worth of souls  and in praise of beauty.  You also crave pickles and that deeply-charred fat on a good rich steak.  By Priesthood hour, this craving has mysteriusly transmuted to wanting to hear President Hinckley’s voice again.

So when you get home, you put in your earbuds, push play, and stroll through the trees.  And in some mysterious transmutation, as you hear him speak it is all those long gone Aprils and Octobers again.  Though this particular talk is one you probably never even heard, in the nature of things you certainly never would have heard, as you hear his voice roll on it as if the years have never happened, you are back in 1989, you are back in 1995, you are back in 2005 or 2007,  the harsh summer light of 2026 has given way to the dappled April springs and October falls of all those many years ago, and you are once again a  very young man callow and naive poking his head cautiously into the great unknown future, you are once again a missionary, a student, a young father with his littles clambering on him; and for a few minutes you are forever young and it is 1989 with all its goodness and weakness and naivete, and will be forever.

Here is the talk: