Continuing the missionary diary of Evelyn Taylor, of Salt Lake City, serving in the California North Mission —
Friday, Oct 31, 1947
We made final preparations for our Primary today, then made second visits on our tracting. One lady who had been interested the first visit had accepted “His Own Story” had read it and asked us questions about it. We talked quite a while with her at the door and she took a Friendly Discussion. That’s the best contact we have on that street.
There were ten children to Primary. We did the same as we did Wednesday. Sr Baughman & Makham furnished the refreshments.
We left there and went to San Rafael to where the lm’s live for our party. We had a pretty good time, but nothing special. We got home so late I wondered if it was worth it. The epitaph Sr Stenquist wrote for me is this –
The little girl was moving from Salt Lake to New York with her parents, and was greatly excited. The night before the departure, she was saying her prayers as usual, but finished off with, “God bless Mommy and Daddy and my little brother Tommy; and this is good-bye, God – we’re moving to New York tomorrow.”
I am hunkered down in my apartment, watching anxiously for any sign of infiltration of my neighborhood by Syrian (or any other) refugees. My weapons are piled at my open door, ready to be deployed in defense of the honor of my nation and my God.
By Elvin J. Norton
On ordinary occasions Henry would not have enjoyed being so far from ready when he was called for: but in this instance he was very glad he had a plausible excuse to offer that he might hare time to control his emotions. The hurry of completing his preparations partly restored him, and in a short time he ventured to join his sister. She was attired neatly in a plain dress, which did service in more places than the ball room. Her one extra ornament was a sprig of holly across her breast. She did not forget to ask him who was behind this time, nor suppress a laugh at his expense when he hesitated to answer. He took advantage of this jocular moment and the partial darkness to thank her for the Christmas present, without showing any outward signs of the emotion that had so affected him.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said. “I wanted Santa Claus to bring it to you after you’d gone to sleep; but mother thought it would be better to let you have it earlier. Santa Claus has Randy’s, anyhow, and will bring it at the regular time. But come on. Don’t you think they’ve waited long enough?”
“All right, I’m ready,” he said quickly. “Good night, mother, — since you don’t seem to be going. Go to bed and rest; we’ll try to be good.”
From the Children’s Friend, 1935 —
Last Friday evening, Aspiring Mormon Women and Springboard Utah reserved an entire theater showing of the new movie Suffragette. Afterwards, I spoke for about 20 minutes. The crowd was great, and willingly entered into the spirit of the great Mormon women’s “indignation meetings,” cheering at the extracts from women’s speeches and for the wording of legal documents giving women the vote, and booing when Congress took away the vote.
Like me, you’ve been anticipating this movie, reading reviews by critics and enthusiastic interviews of actors. And they were right – wasn’t that great?
One of the negative criticisms of the movie is one that is true of my remarks tonight, and we might as well get it out of the way: “Suffragette” tells the story of white women, without any reference to the substantial participation by women of color. From the day I was invited to give this talk, I have been scouring the histories and 19th century newspapers, and emailing colleagues, trying to find some trace of the role played by women of color in the suffrage movement here in Utah. After all, by the turn of the century, there were hundreds of black women in Utah. There was a small and soon-to-grow population of Hispanic and Pacific Island women. And of course there were the Utes and Paiutes and other Native Americans – including native women who were the wives and daughters of white men and so could presumably have been expected to be aware of, and participate in the suffrage movement.
He Careth for Thee
By Georgia Moore Eberling
On the topmost branch of our bare oak tree
A lone brown leaf clings stubbornly,
(It is long past time for the leaves to go,)
When the brisk fall winds began to blow
They put on beautiful golds and reds,
Bound crimson ribbons about their heads
And sailed aloft, like the butterfly,
They all found wings to bear them high.
Most of the leaves smiled up at the sun
Glad that their summer’s work was done,
And whispering groups flew far away
In the shining hues of their new array.
In late November they all have flown
Save the leaf that lingered, it’s all alone,
It will nevermore dance to the lilt of the breeze
For winter has come, and all the trees
Have wrapped themselves in a winding-sheet
Of glittering snow and icy sleet,
While the little leaf so full of fear
Is ugly and withered, lonely and sere.
One month after the outbreak of World War I, U.S. President Woodrow Wilson asked Americans of all faiths to join in prayer, seeking the blessing of peace for Europe and the world. In Salt Lake City, perhaps as many as 10,000 Latter-day Saints gathered in the Tabernacle on Temple Square during General Conference and joined in prayer.
That prayer for peace, offered by President Charles W. Penrose of the First Presidency, is as relevant today as it was a century ago.
A Prayer for Peace
O God, our Eternal Father, the Father of the spirits of all men, we come unto thee in the name of Jesus Christ, our Redeemer, and worship thee, and render thanks unto thee for all things that we have received, both spiritual and temporal, for our sustenance, for our guidance, for our enlightenment, for our understanding and knowledge that we may be prepared to come into thy presence eventually and be crowned with eternal lives. Wilt thou accept of our thanksgiving, this morning, for all thy favors; look in mercy upon us and unite our hearts together under the influence of thy Divine Spirit, that we may be one in very deed, and that our supplications may come up unto thee acceptable. Forgive us of all our sins, our follies, our imperfections, our unworthiness, our lack of obedience unto thy commandments and thy counsels; and wherein we have in any way offended thee, we crave thy pardon and forgiveness.
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By Elvin J. Norton
No one who was acquainted with the kind disposition of Henry Palmer, and who fully sensed the seriousness of his intemperate habits, could look upon his expressive face without feeling sympathy for him. In his face were indications of a strong desire to do right, but along with these indications were no marks of that will power necessary to resist temptations that assailed his weak points. No one knew his trouble half so well as he himself. Like Randy, he managed to avoid conversations upon his weaknesses, even with his mother and sister; but unlike his younger brother, he did not allow a spirit of haughtiness to overcome his sense of consideration, and so succeeded by kindness rather than stubbornness to change the subject whenever Rachel or Mrs. Palmer tried to talk with him regarding his habit of drinking.
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