Dialann | Issue 12, October 2013

ISSUE 12 OCTOBER 2013

Preschool OUR WAY, AT HOME

ISSUE 12 OCTOBER 2013

table of contents 8

THE JOURNAL

2

Susan: Family fun

The family that plays together stays together.

Good thing we do a lot of playing.

COLOPHON Our family Susan Jane Hibdon Joyce Dustin Tyler Joyce Fiona Claire Joyce

4 Dustin: Mr. Daddy

Fiona’s preschool teacher: among the many hats Dustin wears—a hard job, but worth it.

6 Fiona: Playing with sticks

Forest school helps Fiona get out and enjoy nature. It also helps her make new friends.

9

HERE & THERE

8 April–September 2013 9

The story of Maria

By Susan | A subway ride in Queens unexpectedly brings a young girl’s beloved stuffed animal into our family.

STORIES

10

10 The burning of the Phoenix

By Susan | On a fateful summer day, a station wagon meets its fate—and then rises from the ashes. Hey, if it’ll drive, it’ll do.

BOOK REPORT

12 Recent reads & reviews

By Dustin | Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky; A Train in Winter by Caroline Moorehead; and Just My Type: A Book About Fonts by Simon Garfield

14

OUR TIMES

On the cover Front: Fiona hops on her tricycle on the first day of her homeschool preschool, 9 September 2013. She rode her trike around the block and back home to school. See “Mr. Daddy,” page 4.

Back: Fiona with one of the construction-paper-and-toilet-paperroll pumpkins she and Dustin made at homeschool preschool, 21 October 2013. The crafty pumpkins brought some fall cheer into our home.

Sans serif text is set in Hypatia Sans Pro. Serif text is set in Adobe Text Pro. This issue was designed on a Dell Inspiron ONE2305 desktop, with 4 GB of RAM, a 1 TB hard drive, and an AMD Athlon II X2 240e processor with a speed of 2.8 GHz. The software used includes InDesign, Photoshop, and Illustrator in Adobe Creative Suite 5.5, as well as Microsoft Word 2010.

The operating system was Windows 7 Home Premium 64-bit.

Dialann—Irish for “journal”—is published quarterly at New York, in January, April, July, and October.

Published by Dustin Tyler Joyce | dtjoyce.com Printed by Blurb | blurb.com

14 America’s government closes up shop

By Dustin | Democrats and Republicans bicker, and the government shuts down.

WE BELIEVE IN CHRIST

16 Mormons & race

By Dustin | Despite at least 126 years’ worth of restrictions on the priesthood and temple, our faith affirms that all people are equal, to be treated with dignity, respect, and love.

Original content is available for noncommercial use under a Creative Commons license. Some material in this issue was produced by others; material used under a Creative Commons license is identified by “CC” and the license type and version. For more info, visit dialann.org/copyright

dialann.org

Did you know? In 1980 and 1981, Jimmy Carter’s attorney general, Benjamin Civiletti, issued opinions of the 1884 Antideficiency Act that federal agencies must shut down if Congress can’t agree on a budget—which is exactly what happened this month. SEE PAGE 14 SHUTDOWN CLOSURE NOTICE: PHOTO TAKEN 6 OCTOBER 2013 BY STEPHEN D. MELKISETHIAN, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 FLICKR.COM/PHOTOS/STEPHENMELKISETHIAN/10140087836

THE JOURNAL SUSAN

Family fun.

The family that plays together stays together. Good thing we do a lot of playing.

 Fiona watches her green golf ball float down a stream on hole 15 at Pier 25 Mini Golf.

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 3

Miniature golf 20 August 2013 Just after we moved here, Dustin discovered a mini-golf course on the west side of Manhattan, out on a pier over the Hudson River. We finally found just the right evening to go. Fiona picked out her golf ball—green—and got a little tiny golf club, and we started the course. She was very enthusiastic about picking up the balls and moving them; she was less conscientious about taking turns, and had a tendency to hit her ball over and over again without any pause at all between strokes. We helped, of course. She definitely understood the goal, but generally used her golf club more like a croquet mallet.

The best parts of any mini-golf course are the special greens where the ball disappears and then reappears somewhere else, and Fiona especially enjoyed those, particularly the one where it was nearly impossible to hit the ball across a narrow bridge, and therefore the ball fell in the water and popped up on the other side of the green.

Corn maze 12 October 2013 The Queens County Farm Museum, where Fiona’s school went to on a field trip last year, has a corn maze every year. We were looking forward to it for weeks. The place was packed—a complete madhouse, since they had hay rides and apples and all sorts of other activities besides the corn maze. But we were focused. They gave us a flag on an 8-foot pole so that we wouldn’t get lost (well, not completely lost) as well as some puzzles to work on inside the maze. One of the puzzles was an actual map of the maze, and in each sector of the maze we had to find a mailbox with a new piece of the map. As I recall, we eventually gave up on finding all of the pieces: we had been to every sector, and we knew exactly where we were, but couldn’t find that last mailbox in sector 3. Oh, well.

Fiona did a great job of exploring the maze with us. She walked a long way and helped us find the mailboxes. She also wanted to carry the flag pole, but it was a bit long for her and she had a hard time holding it up straight. By the end of the day, we were all pretty tired and dusty, so we shuffled back to the bus to go home.

Halloween 31 October 2013 This year, Fiona and I started looking at Halloween costume possibilities in the summertime. We brainstormed a list of ideas; some of Fiona’s included things like “chair” and “table” and “rock”. I also did a Google image search for “kids Halloween costumes.” Fiona loved looking at those pictures.

After a few weeks, Fiona had narrowed her choices down to frog, skunk, or… something else; I can’t remember what. Ultimately, she chose frog. I had her look at some pictures of green frogs and some pictures of tree frogs, and she said that the tree frog with orange toes was her favorite. That worked out nicely, since I had an old Halloween costume with a giant green turtleneck and a giant yellow-orange turtleneck (I was corn on the cob one year). I cut it up and made Fiona a pair of pants, a shirt, and a frog hood, along with orange gloves and shoe covers. I was pretty pleased with myself.

Fiona was delighted to dress up as a frog, although she pretty much refused to wear the shoe covers. She wore the costume to forest school (see page 6) that day and climbed up on a log—a perfect picture.

Later in the day, we went to meet some friends who were visiting New York and had gone

 Fiona, in her frog costume on Halloween, and one of her forest school friends, Alyosha Kai, hang out on a log in the pine barrens at Forest Park, Queens.

to some kind of children’s festival in the West Village. We were running late, though, and by the time we got there, the freaks were already out and the festival was basically over, so we got out as fast as we could and went to Brooklyn Heights. Trick-or-treating after dark is a lot less fun, it turns out, because there are too many pushy eight-year-olds and eleven-year-olds. In the late afternoon, when it’s still just the little kids, everyone is much friendlier, and it’s less crowded. Also, the costumes are more ageappropriate, unlike the gory and risqué things the older kids wear. At one point, Fiona was lining up in front of someone’s stoop, and the kid handing out the candy had a scary white mask on. She took the candy but then looked up at his face and very nearly started running until I calmed her down. But we nevertheless had a good time, and Fiona went home with quite a bit of candy. d PHOTOS TAKEN BY DUSTIN

 Susan and Fiona find another piece of the puzzle as we find our way out of the corn maze.

3

THE JOURNAL DUSTI N

Mr. Daddy. Add being Fiona’s preschool teacher to the many hats I wear. It’s a hard job, but well worth it.

I

’ve grown accustomed to wearing a lot of hats. I’m an independent consultant (or a freelancer, depending upon the mood I’m in).

I’m a jobseeker. I’m a custodian who cleans our house, a dishwasher who spends on average an hour a day huddled over the sink while listening to WNYC (thank heavens for public radio), a laundry service, and an errand runner who brings almost all of our groceries home with my own bare hands. Clerk in our branch. Father and stayat-home dad. Husband.

 Fiona plays the guitar during circle time. During circle time each morning, we say a prayer, talk about the calendar and weather, and sing songs.

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 3

Now I’m also Mr. Daddy. At least, that’s what Fiona has taken to calling me on occasion, now that I have started teaching her in a homeschool version of preschool. And it’s one of the most challenging things I have ever done.

The story begins a little over a year ago, when Fiona started preschool. Susan found a great little preschool not too far from where we live. It was just what we were looking for: convenient, small, and cozy, with an owner and teacher who were very focused on planning a great curriculum. See, we didn’t need it as a daycare—we just wanted a place where Fiona

could socialize and enhance her learning. The preschool was a great place for her to do that, and it was affordable.

Then they fired the teacher. Two weeks into the school year, the day before they had an open house with all the parents and children. That was awkward. After a little mingling, they asked the parents to gather around in a circle while they talked about the coming year. Everyone was a little uneasy—some concern, unresolved, hanging in the air over everyone’s heads. Then a parent finally spoke up about it: “Can we talk about the teacher?” The can of worms was opened, and I don’t think it ever got closed again, for the rest of the year.

Then there were the field trips. Oh, they were great trips, alright: a bread tour of Brooklyn; a visit to the Queens County Farm Museum; a puppet show. We decided Fiona should go on all of them, and I could come along as a chaperone. We had to pay for each of us to come, and we did, right at the beginning of the year. Then, as each trip approached, the owner asked me whether Fiona and I would be coming.

I began to doubt her recordkeeping and business acumen.

But Fiona still had an enjoyable time. She really liked the teacher. She made some great friends. I cherished the brief time we got to spend on the bus each Tuesday and Thursday as I took Fiona to school. And it gave me two days a week to focus on my consulting work, my job search, and other projects.

So we were ready for her to attend again this year, and maybe for three or even five days a week. But they upped the price. After some serious, thoughtful contemplation, we decided we could use that money better ourselves if we kept Fiona home and I homeschooled her. That, and I was tired of feeling like I was banging my head against the wall with a fruitless job search.

All that time I had spent in the previous year on Tuesdays and Thursdays, networking, finding job openings, writing cover letters, submitting applications—and I still had basically nothing to show for it. It was time to start doing something meaningful.

We went to a teacher-supply store in Downtown Brooklyn and bought a few workbooks, and we began assembling ideas for our curriculum. Susan wrote a curriculum for our first unit, on bodies of water. (Being married to a teacher has its perks.) We developed a weekly schedule. We bought a classroom calendar—the type made of canvas with clear pockets that you can change for each month. We even bought trays PHOTO TAKEN 9 SEPTEMBER 2013 BY DUSTIN

so Fiona could have a bit of the experience of going to the cafeteria at school. This was going to be Fiona’s school, and we were serious about it.

It hasn’t worked out exactly as I had hoped.

Following a routine, especially when it’s just me and Fiona, is tough. I had planned on getting some cool frozen-food items for our once-aweek “cafeteria” lunches, but as it turns out, frozen food items, no matter what they are, and no matter what store they come from, are basically universally bad. Projects, and chores, and other things have gotten in the way. Fiona is surprisingly difficult to keep on a schedule, and she is often contrary or disagreeable. And that 9.00 start time on the schedule? Yeah, I don’t think that’s happened once—Fiona likes to sleep in, just like her Mama.

But then there was the field trip to Paterson, New Jersey, with one of Fiona’s friends from church and his dad. We went there to see a waterfall—you know, part of our bodies of water unit. There was the time we went down to Coney Island and got some ocean water. We brought it home and let it evaporate so we could see the salt the seawater left behind. One time, not too long ago, we were walking down the street and Fiona stopped and said, “Twenty-eight.” It took me a moment, but then I found it: a 28 indicating a house number on the street we were walking down—reviewing the numbers on that calendar had sunk in. There’s reciting the alphabet or the days of the week or the months of the year as we’re walking around or riding the bus or the subway. There was a walk we took through Prospect Park where Fiona and I had a great conversation. The experience was delightful— Fiona was a delightful conversationalist.

On a recent bus ride home, Fiona said a word that Susan couldn’t quite understand because she had never heard Fiona say it before.

Susan asked her to explain. She cupped her hand over her eye with her fingers bowing out and said, “It curves like this,” then added, “not like this,” moving her hand in a motion curving in.

The word was convex.

She learned it on a recent trip to the New York Hall of Science, where we watched a dissection of a cow’s eye. The presenter explained that the lenses of our eyes curve outward and that that shape is called “convex.” (Hence the reason Fiona held her hand up to her eye to explain.)

I’m by no means a perfect preschool teacher.

I won’t be making money off of this profession any time soon. But I’ll count the last few months a success. d CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: PHOTOS TAKEN 5 OCTOBER 2013; 18 SEPTEMBER 2013; 16 SEPTEMBER 2013 BY DUSTIN

 clockwise from top: With the results of our seawater salt experiment; enjoying a cafeteria-style lunch; working on a workbook.

5

THE JOURNAL FIONA

Playing with sticks.

Forest school helps me get out and enjoy nature. It also helps me make new friends.

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 3

 This fall has been spectacular in New York City, and Fiona has a front-row seat for it at forest school.

E

very week, Daddy and I go to forest school. We go to the bus stop and meet my friends there.

Some of my friends are Alyosha Kai and Marcella. We get on the bus and ride until we get to the forest, and then we get off the bus and go into the forest to have a snack. I like having a snack and sharing snacks with the other kids, because then everyone tries different kinds of foods. I like to bring raisins or carrots, and sometimes I also have some crackers or cheese.

After we have our snack, we go to a different part of the forest. I like to find a stick to carry. Then we sing some songs. “Leaves are falling down, on my head and nose and toes. Nose, toes, head.” We go exploring and sometimes see animals. We found some worms one time, and someone touched them, but I didn’t touch them. One time we found a hole in a tree. There’s a spider web in the hole. Daddy and I found it. I look into it. I don’t touch the spider webs.

We also go to the pine tree forest, where there are lots of pine needles on the ground and lots of logs. One time we built a huge teepee out of sticks. It was even big enough that I could climb inside! I also like to play tag. To tag somebody like Alyosha Kai or Marcella. You run and then tag someone.

Run and tag. At forest school, we don’t bring toys with us, we just find toys on the ground.

I play with acorns and climb on big logs. We explore. I do lots of things. I play with sticks.

Reach up high, up in the sky. I collect sticks.

A ton of them! I collect a ton of acorns and sticks and I drive home on the bus with my collection. With my acorns and my sticks.

Sometimes I find a really big stick that I can’t really pick up, and I try to drag it along the FOREST PARK, QUEENS PHOTO TAKEN 7 NOVEMBER 2013 BY DUSTIN

Fiona helped write these articles.

Highlighted portions of text are, more or less, direct quotations from her.

My first visit to the dentist Now that I have all my teeth, it’s important that I take good care of them. Every day I brush my teeth two times. But every once in a while, I need to go see a dentist to make sure my teeth are healthy.

One day, not too long ago, Daddy and I got on the bus and went to the dentist’s office. When we got there, the receptionist gave Daddy a big stack of forms to fill out, and I got to play with toys and read books. Then someone came and said it was my turn to see the dentist.

When I went into the dentist’s office, I sat in a big chair. It was orange. It lifts up high. It maked a funny noise when I tipped back like this. Then the dentist came in. He showed me a book about what would happen during my visit. It was like the books we got from the library to help me understand what goes on at a dentist’s office. The dentist said, “Open wide,” and he put a mirror in my mouth.

I don’t know what is the other thing besides a mirror. He used a mirror to count my teeth. He looked at all the teeth in my mouth, and he used a little mirror at the end of a metal tool to look at the backs of my teeth. He also looked at my gums. He used a little pointy tool to scrape clean a few of my teeth.

Then it was time for the dentist to clean my teeth. He had two flavors of toothpaste to choose from, bubble gum and blueberry. I choosed blueberry. The toothpaste was really yummy, and the little electric toothbrush made a funny noise and tickled the inside of my mouth.

The dentist said my teeth were really clean and healthy, and he told me to make sure I brush my teeth two times every day. But I already knew to do that! He handed me a little bag with a

ground to the bus. But then Daddy says it’s too big for the bus, so we leave it in the forest.

I like going to forest school even when it’s rainy or snowy or windy. We go for walks sometimes instead of playing in one spot. Then we can see different parts of the forest. It’s better to walk when it’s cold or rainy because sitting still and playing in the same spot would make us get all wet and cold, but it’s fun to explore when the weather isn’t as good. d PHOTO TAKEN BY DUSTIN

small tube of toothpaste, dental floss, stickers, and a little toothbrush that is just my size. And before I knew it, it was time to go. Daddy said that my appointment lasted only 12 minutes, which, according to him, is pretty short for a dental visit.

Then we went across the street to the playground, which was the best part of the day, in my opinion.

I was a little nervous about visiting the dentist, but it ended up being pretty fun. It was too exciting. I didn’t want to go there. It was too exciting and too surprising. And I figured out and then I comed in and it was okay. I’m going to keep taking good care of my teeth so that my next visit to the dentist is just as fun.

 Fiona sits in the big orange chair with her bag of goodies as she gets ready to leave the dentist’s office.

What is “forest school”?  Forest school is basically the way Fiona describes it: kids go to the woods and play with sticks. But it can give children a great opportunity not only to be in nature but also to learn and develop social, problem-solving, and other skills. Unstructured, informal playing and learning are central to the forest school concept, though the amount of structure and organized learning varies.

Our forest school tends to be extremely informal, much like a large playgroup, though there is some structure, including a circle time where we sing songs.

According to Wikipedia, Laona, Wisconsin, claims the world’s first forest school, in 1927. The concept spread to northern Europe, where it became particularly popular in countries such as Sweden and Denmark. In recent years, the idea has made its way back to the United States, likely a response to the teach-to-the-test model so prominent in public education today. Susan first read about it online and became intrigued with the concept, so we were delighted when a group of parents in our neighborhood 7 organized this free, cooperative forest school. —dustin

HERE & THERE

April–September 2013

SH UTD OW N

Follies

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 3

With the nation’s government shut down thanks to embarrassing partisan gridlock, Americans had to make the best of the situation—and laughter, as they say, is the best medicine. So leave it up to cable-TV funnymen to provide soothing relief, with Stephen Colbert and The Colbert Report on Comedy Central leading the pack. Mike Cassesso and MaiLien Le had planned to have their wedding at the same place they went on their first date, the Jefferson Memorial.

But when the impasse in Congress shuttered the National Mall and all the memorials on and around it (see page 14), Mr. Colbert stepped in and married them—for real—right on his show, complete with Smoky the Bear standing in as best man when the real best man couldn’t attend.

But government employees, who bore the brunt of the shutdown’s impact, were not content to be left out of the comedic action—even if they had to act a little more covertly. Some very observant people noticed that in a weather forecast for 4 October 2013 issued by meteorologists at the National Weather Service in Anchorage, Alaska—another agency impacted by the shutdown—the first letters of each line in the first paragraph lined up to form a message. The government workers’ subtle plea? please pay us.

QUOTABLE

“The Bush presidency was a full disaster at home and abroad, and whatever small accomplishments that can be salvaged barely rate any mention in comparison with the failures. The general reckoning of Bush is not too harsh. It is too kind.”

JONATHAN CHAIT NEW YORK MAGAZINE Writing on the occasion of the opening of the George W. Bush Presidential Library and Museum at Southern Methodist University in Dallas about Mr. Bush’s surging post-presidency approval ratings and attempts to rewrite the historical narrative of his presidency

Temples update AS OF 31 OCTOBER 2013

Operating 141 Under construction 15 Announced 14 Announced

Ground broken

No new temples were announced during October’s general conference.

Hartford Connecticut

WEDDING PHOTO BY COMEDY CENTRAL/HULU VIA THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER

17 AUGUST 2013

Fort Collins Colorado 24 AUGUST 2013

SALT LAKE TEMPLE: PHOTO TAKEN 31 MAY 2013 BY NOPPADON WONGSUWAN, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 FLICKR.COM/PHOTOS/NOPPADON/7171353041

O

ne evening in 2011, Fiona and I took the M train to Babies R Us on Metropolitan Avenue in Queens. On

the way home, we got on the train at the same time as a little girl—probably about five—and her parents. She seemed to be in a great mood and was playing with a little green dog. After talking with her parents for a few seconds in (I think) Romanian, she bounced over to Fiona and started playing with her. Fiona was very happy to have a playmate, and Maria—the little girl—shared her little dog, who she said was named Bear. Her parents asked to take a picture of Fiona, Maria, and Bear playing together. Then, at Seneca Avenue, Maria and her parents were ready to get off the train, and I handed Bear back to Maria.

But she and her parents said no, Bear belonged to Fiona now. I almost cried when I realized that they had gotten on the train with the express purpose of finding a kid who would love Maria’s dog-bear. We thought about renaming Bear “Seneca,” after the stop where they got off the train, but settled on “Maria” instead, in honor of the lovely little girl who outgrew a toy and went looking for someone to give it a good home. d PHOTO TAKEN BY DUSTIN

MARIA THE STORY OF

By SUSAN

9

STORIES

By SUSAN

T h e burning of the

PHOENIX On a fateful summer day, a station wagon meets its fate—and then rises from the ashes. Hey, if it’ll drive, it’ll do.

Names have been changed to protect the innocent. But it’s not hard to guess who’s who if you know Susan’s family.

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 3

O

n a hot summer day in July, the Fraser family packed the car, a 1982 Pontiac Grand LeMans station wagon. In the roomy trunk they put a jar of sun tea, a jug of water, plastic dishes, and assorted picnic food. As you may have guessed, the Frasers were going on a picnic. A fairly normal thing to do in July, you might say. However, that fateful summer day in July proved to be anything but normal.

As the Frasers got in the car, Meredith, the oldest daughter, said, “I hope this old crate can get us to the Uintas.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Meredith. Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s broken or defective or anything.”

About fifteen minutes out of Salt Lake City, a light grey steam started seeping out from under the hood. “Uh, Dad? Don’t you think we’d better stop?” inquired the only son in the family, Barnaby.

“Nonsense. This car always does that. It’ll be fine. If it gets any worse we’ll stop and let it cool off,” said Andrew Fraser. About five minutes later, the car hit its top speed of about 48 miles per hour1—it was going down a hill. The steam was darker and heavier now.

“Dad, we’d better stop. Look how dark it is, and there’s more of it, too.” said Olivia uneasily.

At nine, Olivia was the youngest child. “No, it’s not,” claimed Mr. Fraser. “You just think it is because you’re seeing against the hill.”

“Uh huh,” muttered Olivia suspiciously.

By the time they reached the top of the hill, the steam, which was really smoke, of course, was inky black and pouring out from under the

hood. “Well, just to make you kids feel better, I’ll stop. Barnaby, you hop out and take a look.”

After Barnaby opened the hood, he blew on his fingers for a few seconds, then stared in horror at the complex machinery. Flames were licking at the engine! No one in the car could really tell what was happening to their beloved Valdez (so named because it was a boat and it leaked oil)2 until Barnaby scooped up some dirt and started pouring it onto the smoking carburetor.

“The car’s on fire!!! The car’s on fire!!!!” shrieked Meredith.

“Everybody out!!! Throw some dirt on it!!!!” commanded Mr. Fraser.

“Hurry!! Hurry!! Hurry!!!!” exclaimed Mrs. Fraser.

“Ooooooohhhhh boyy!!” put in Olivia, who had taken off her shoes and was now dancing on the hot asphalt.

Meredith, always considering her safety first, stood what must have been 40 feet3 away, in case the car exploded, and threw dust and gravel in the general direction of the engine. Due to their scientific properties, the dust made it a few inches until it settled to the ground. The gravel, however, flew through the air all the way to the station wagon, then rattled over the metal car parts like marbles in a pinball machine. Not especially helpful, you might comment. Not so!

Meredith’s blind throw technique jarred loose an oil dipstick that hadn’t been seen or used in months and was consequently left behind on the shoulder.

Soon, despite Meredith’s poor aim, Olivia’s hot feet, and the general chaos, the fire was out.

Just to make sure, Mr. Fraser poured all of the

water and sun tea all over the engine.

He still wasn’t sure, so he added a little pink lemonade to the rather bland, watered down mixture, slammed down the hood, and said, “Let’s go to that gas station down the road and we can hose it off. We better take it slow, though.”

The Valdez took it excruciatingly slow. The young Frasers weren’t even sure the engine was running at first- they thought it was coasting. It took ten minutes to go half a mile. At one point Barnaby asked to get out and walk so he’d get there faster. Mrs. Fraser, however, would not allow it.

Sitting on a hill at Jerry’s Gas ‘n’ Go several hours later, sipping orange Crush, Meredith, Barnaby, and Olivia discussed the tragedy.

“Meredith, why were you standing so far away from the car? Only the gravel actually got to the engine, and there are probably still pebbles rattling around in there.”

“I was afraid the car would blow up,” explained Meredith in a hurt voice. “At least I found that dipstick.”

“Well, it’s just a good thing I thought of putting it out with dirt. We could have all been goners. I burnt my fingers on the hood, too. It was really hot. And I was the one who smelled the burnt oil smell. Boy, did it stink.”

“The worst part was when I had to get out of the car without my shoes on. The gravel was

hot so I had to jump up and down, but there was broken glass right where I was standing so I cut my feet. Look at that, bleeding all over the place,” complained Olivia as a small red dot of blood oozed out of her big toe. “And by the way, Barnaby, why didn’t you just pour water on the fire in the first place?”

“It, uh, was too far away. As far as I knew, that car was just a time bomb waiting to go off.

Like I said, you could’ve all been goners.”

Meredith interrupted. “We can’t call it the Valdez anymore. Probably all the oil is burned up, so it won’t leak anymore.”

“We could call it the Phoenix. You know, the bird that burns itself up every thousand years or something and then rises from the ashes again,” suggested Barnaby.

“But the Valdez is only seven years old, and I don’t think it will ever rise from anything. Uh oh, it’s awfully hilly between here and home. I hope we don’t have to stay at Jake’s Gas ‘n’ Go for the rest of our lives,” said Meredith.

“It’s Jerry’s, and I still think ‘The Phoenix’ is a good idea,” said Barnaby.

“I agree. ‘The Phoenix’ it is,” decided Olivia.

There was a moment of silence as the Fraser kids pondered the significance of the moment.

“Where is that dipstick, anyway?” asked Olivia. d

NOTES 1. 77 kilometers per hour 2. Like the Exxon Valdez, the oil tanker at the center of a major oil spill and environmental disaster in Prince William Sound, Alaska, in 1989.

3. 12 meters

11

BOOK REPORT

By DUSTIN

Recent reads & reviews Worth its salt Read 23 August–1 September 2013

Salt: A World History

by Mark Kurlansky Published by Penguin Books, New York 2003

Salt is so readily available in today’s world that it’s easy to take for granted. So Mark Kurlansky’s in-depth look at the history of salt was certainly eye-opening. I never realized, for example, that controlling salt production was part of the Union strategy during the U.S. Civil War.

Much of the book is quite interesting. But it’s too long; it feels like there’s about 150 pages of unnecessary material in there. While the recipes included are intriguing, I think they would have been better placed in an appendix

rather than included in the book’s main text. The author clearly had a lot of material left over from his previous book about cod, because there’s a lot about cod and fish in this one. (I’m not a fish eater, so that doesn’t appeal to me. But the excessive discussions about fish are probably not the most interesting even to fish connoisseurs.)

And the author seems to go out of his way not to appear Eurocentric. Yes, I know that China has been a great, advanced civilization for millennia, but I felt like I was being reminded of that on every other page, with far too much focus on how Eastern and Western civilization compare.

Heroes Read 18–27 September 2013

A Train in Winter

by Caroline Moorehead Published by HarperCollins, New York 2011

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 3

One of the best and one of the worst books I have ever read. The women whose story Caroline Moorehead tells are incredible. Their courage, their tenacity, and their compassion certainly caused me to reexamine my own life and attributes and commit to living a little better.

There are few words to describe my admiration for these women and my speechlessness at everything they endured.

But the description of what these women saw and experienced at Auschwitz and elsewhere on their journey is raw. In spite of everything I’ve heard and seen about the Holocaust, this book displays the depravity of the Nazis and those who ran the concentration camps on a whole new level. There were times I had to put the book down and shed a few tears over what I was

reading. It is difficult to take in, and impossible to understand. But I reminded myself that these women fought to live so that they could tell the world what they saw so that it would never happen again. And such raw, uncompromising detail allowed me to empathize with the prisoners and victims of the concentration camps in a way that I hadn’t felt before.

My only gripe with the author is that several times she refers to the heroines’ “abilities as women”—their ability to care and have compassion for one another, and that these abilities gave them a survival advantage over the men in the camps. Which I have no doubt of. But I would argue that such abilities are not inherent to one gender over another but are rather part of the cultural construct that would be unsurprising to find in Europe’s ultraconservative years of the early 20th century.

Other recent reads & reviews Down and Out in Paris and London

by George Orwell

A History of Future Cities

by Daniel Brook

Metropolis

by Elizabeth Gaffney

Harcourt Brace, New York, 1933

W.W. Norton & Co., New York, 2013

Random House, New York, 2005

Rats

by Robert Sullivan Bloomsbury USA, New York, 2005

The story behind the words we read Read 29 September–10 October 2013 We get so accustomed to seeing letters and text and words around us that it almost seems natural, as though the entire alphabet—and the way we write it—were delivered as a polished finished product from some unknown, supernatural source. But the fact is that alphabets and language and the typefaces and printing methods we use to write them are human inventions, meaning someone, somewhere along the line back in time, had to figure out how to do all that stuff.

That’s what this book is about. Sure, there’s a lot about fonts, and it was comforting to learn that other people are even more geeky and obsessed about fonts than I am. Simon Garfield tells their stories, but he also teases

out fascinating histories about the people and things behind fonts as we know them today. He reminisces about the John Bull printing set, and he relates the time the French Haute autorité pour la diffusion des œuvres et la protection des droits sur Internet used France Telecom’s proprietary typeface in announcing a new campaign to protect intellectual property rights—including those of typographers. And after reading about Eric Gill, a typographer who worked in Britain in the early 20th century, I will never be able to look at Gill Sans the same way again. But you’ll just have to read the book to find out why.

It’s a little dull at times—it is, after all, a book about fonts. But you don’t have to be a typophile to gain a little more appreciation for the typefilled world around us.

Just My Type: A Book About Fonts

by Simon Garfield Published by Gotham Books, New York 2011

What’s our type? Typeface, that is Speaking of fonts, what are the ones we use on the pages of this magazine? Well, for sans serif text— headlines and headers, captions, the Dialann logotype, this text, and pretty much anything that’s not in the body text of an article—we use Hypatia Sans. For serif text, which we mostly use in body copy, we use Adobe Text. Both are fairly new typefaces, and both were created by Adobe. (Adobe’s Creative Suite is the software we use to create this magazine.)

Hypatia Sans was conceived in fall 2002 as a geometric sans serif typeface (Futura is a popular example of this type of font) for the Adobe Originals collection. It was designed by Thomas Phinney under the guidance of Robert Slimbach, Adobe’s principal type designer. Adobe explains that Hypatia’s “capitals … have classic Roman proportions, like Trajan;” while the “strong geometric tendencies” of its lower-case letters are “tempered with humanism to increase warmth and legibility. … Vestigial angled serifs on the upper left of stems”—one of our favorite features of Hypatia Sans—“give a modern counterpoint to a design that might otherwise be reminiscent of the 1920s or 30s.” The font is named for Hypatia, a mathematician and philosopher in ancient Alexandria who was born sometime a.d. 350–370 and murdered in 415. The non-italic version was released in 2007, joined by an italic in April 2010.

Mr. Slimbach designed Adobe Text, which was released in 2010. Adobe groups it with “transitional” typefaces: it “bridges the gap between calligraphic Renaissance types of the 15th and 16th centuries and high-contrast Modern styles of the 18th century, taking many of its design cues from early post-Renaissance Baroque transitional types cut by designers such as Christoffel Van Dyke, Nicholas Kis, and William Caslon. While grounded in classical form, Adobe Text is also a statement of contemporary utilitarian design.” Adobe further describes it as a “workhorse” typeface, with “capabilities that allow for seamless compatibility with all conceivable typographic features and settings.” Since we’re still not sure where this magazine will take us, Adobe Text seems like a perfect typeface to take along for the ride.

Hypatia Sans Designer: Thomas Phinney Released: 2007, 2010

ABCDEFGHIJKLMN OPQRSTUVWXYZ abcdefghijklmnopq rstuvwxyz0123456789

Adobe Text Designer: Richard Slimbach Released: 2010

ABCDEFGHIJKLMN OPQRSTUVWXYZ abcdefghijklmnopq rstuvwxyz0123456789

13

OUR TIMES

By DUSTIN

1–16 October 2013 Government operations come to a halt as Democrats and Republicans bicker over healthcare, the debt, and ideology.

SOURCES Information and some portions of text adapted from these pages at en.wikipedia.org/wiki (CC BY-SA 3.0): • /United_States_federal_ government_shutdown_of_2013 • /Government_shutdown_in_the_ United_States • /List_of_US_federal_government_ agencies_and_operations_affected_ by_the_shutdown_of_2013 • /2006_midterm_elections • /2010_midterm_elections NOTE * Text adapted from en.wikipedia. org/wiki/United_States_federal_ government_shutdown_of_2013 (CC BY-SA 3.0)

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 3

America’s government closes up shop

B

ack in 2006, elections midway through President George W. Bush’s second term handed a sweeping victory to Democrats—the party won a majority in both houses of Congress, on top of a majority of governorships and state legislatures. Reflecting on what the next couple of years of a divided government would give us, with a Republican in the White House and Democrats controlling Congress, my then-supervisor said, “I hope they’re completely gridlocked.”

In the next election, in 2008, Democrats held on to their majorities in both chambers while winning back the presidency. President Barack Obama, working with House speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate majority leader Harry Reid, pushed through an ambitious legislative agenda, culminating with the Affordable Care Act (ACA), a sweeping law that reformed how the nation pays for healthcare.

But there was a price to pay, and Democrats’ total control of the federal government was to be short-lived. In the 2010 midterm elections, Republicans retook the House while reducing Democrats’ majority in the Senate. While Mr. Obama was reelected in 2012, the federal government has remained fractured, the wheels of the federal government slowly grinding their way toward complete partisan gridlock.

In the early morning hours of 1 October— the first day of the federal government’s fiscal year 2014—the nation saw what a standstill looks like as Congress failed to pass legislation that would continue funding government operations.

Without funding, government agencies could not operate. So they shut down, for 16 straight days, the first such closure since 1996 and the third longest in the nation’s history.

Shuttering federal agencies For the duration of the shutdown, 800,000 government employees were indefinitely furloughed. Another 1.3 million were required to report to work—many with an additional workload because of the absence of furloughed employees—but didn’t know when they would be paid for their work. Furloughed employees faced a significant loss of income for the time they were out of work.

The operations of federal agencies across the board were suspended or curtailed by the loss of funding. The Federal Housing Administration, NPR reported, continued processing mortgage applications for single-family properties but delayed those for multifamily dwellings.

The Department of Commerce’s monthly employment report—closely watched in this time of fragile economic recovery—was delayed.

Some 19,000 children were affected by the closure of Head Start programs. Federal websites were replaced with notices that they would be inaccessible for the duration of the shutdown (I encountered one as I was trying to do research on the National Archives’ homepage).

On the other hand, social security recipients continued to receive their benefits, and veterans could continue to receive healthcare administered by the Department of Veterans Affairs. Indeed, any service deemed essential for the protection of life and property, such as agriculture inspections and police and fire protection, continued to operate.

Perhaps the most visible signs of the government’s closure were in the nation’s capital.

The museums of the Smithsonian Institution were closed, as were parks and memorials operated by the National Park Service (NPS).

While the Smithsonian’s National Zoo was closed to visitors, though staff continued to care for the animals. The expanse of the National Mall was chained off with signs stating that it was closed except for “First Amendment activities.”

The NPS’s closure affected not just parks and monuments in Washington, D.C., but all 401 NPS units across the country. Yosemite and Alcatraz in California, the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island in New York Harbor, Independence Hall in Philadelphia—all shuttered. Visitors staying overnight in national parks were given 48 hours to leave. National parks are big tourist draws, and closing them doesn’t leave just tourists empty-handed: closures of major sites can impact local economies and tax revenues as well. So several states approached the NPS about reopening the parks during the shutdown using state funds. The NPS said it would allow it, but that parks had to be reopened in whole, not just in part—an awfully pushy demand, we thought,

 The closure of the National Mall shuttered the area’s war memorials, too.

On the first day of the shutdown, a large group of World War II veterans participating in an Honor Flight trip from Mississippi to the World War II Memorial ignored the closure and entered the memorial, alongside members of Congress of both political parties. The NPS declared that the gathering was protected by the First Amendment and rangers allowed the veterans to enter.

While visiting the memorial on 2 October, Representative Randy Neugebauer, a Republican from Texas, publicly scolded a National Park Service ranger who was enforcing the agency’s closure. As ordered by their superiors, the park rangers on duty at the memorial had been allowing World War II veterans into the site but asking the general public to leave. A video recording taken by an NBC journalist showed Mr. Neugebauer angrily challenging the unidentified ranger, asking her, “How can you look at them … and deny them access?” When she replied that it was “difficult,” the congressman added that the “Park Service should be ashamed of themselves.” The ranger responded, “I’m not ashamed,” to which the congressman shot back, “Well, you should be.”

Mr. Neugebauer’s actions were widely criticized in major media, though he said his words were taken out of context. The Kansas City Star editorialized that Mr. Neugebauer was “full of misplaced moral outrage” and was wrong to attack the ranger publicly—“a public servant, handling a bad situation with much more professionalism than the self-important Neugebauer displayed,” and an ethics complaint was proposed by a congressional watchdog group. David McCumber, the Washington bureau chief of Hearst Newspapers, said Mr. Neugebauer had shown “staggering hypocrisy” in attacking a ranger for enforcing the closure the congressman had helped create.*

 Washington, D.C.’s Lincoln Park functions largely as a neighborhood park in the Capitol Hill neighborhood east of the Capitol. But because it, like many neighborhood parks throughout the District, is operated by the National Park Service, it, too, fell victim to the shutdown’s closure of federal facilities.

for an agency that, in the absence of federal funding, in effect didn’t exist at the moment. But states agreed, and Utah reopened Zion and Capitol Reef, while neighboring Colorado reopened Rocky Mountain National Park. New York State provided funds to reopen the Statue of Liberty. Legislation has been introduced in Congress to reimburse states that provided funds to reopen national parks.

Because Congress must approve the budgets of the local government of the District of Columbia, federal shutdowns can shutter D.C.’s government, too, closing schools and suspending government services such as garbage collection. To allow local agencies to continue to function, D.C.’s government moved to declare all of its employees “essential”, shielding them from furlough.

Ending the shutdown The partisan bickering that led to the shutdown centered largely on the Affordable Care Act, much of which went into effect with the new fiscal year on 1 October. Republicans refused to negotiate on the budget until all or part of the ACA was delayed or defunded. They also resisted raising the debt ceiling—the government’s credit card, which was just about maxed out.

In the end, after shutting the federal government down for over two weeks as the nation and world looked on at their antics in dismay, the Republicans conceded defeat. On 16 October, the Senate passed a bill—a “continuing resolution”—that extended funding for federal agencies at current levels through 15 January and suspended the debt limit until 7 February 2014 on a vote of 81–18, with all Democrats and 27 Republicans voting in favor.

The House then took up the bill and passed it 285–144, with unanimous Democratic support and a vote of 87–144 among Republicans. President Obama signed the bill into law shortly after midnight on 17 October, and later that morning federal workers came into work for the first time that month as agencies reopened their doors. d PHOTO TAKEN 12 OCTOBER 2013 BY ANDREW TURNER, CC BY 2.0 FLICKR.COM/PHOTOS/AJTURNER/10226980645

WE BELIEVE IN CHRIST

MORMONS & RACE For at least 126 years, from 1852 to 1978, people of African descent could not fully participate in my church. I don’t know why.

But what I do know is my own belief that all people are created equal and deserving of being treated with dignity, respect, and love.

By DUSTIN

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 3

I

remember the first time I learned that the ban had existed. My family was living in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was in second grade. I had already developed my love of geography and I frequently checked books out from my school’s library about different places. One day, I decided to check out a book about Utah. I had never been there, but I was well aware as a young Latter-day Saint that my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was headquartered there and that Mormons played a key role throughout the state’s history and on to the present day. The book was part of a series of books about each of the 50 states, and at the back of each book was a timeline of the state’s history. It was there, under 1978. I don’t remember what the exact text was, but I was a bit taken aback. I asked my mother whether it was true—if the priesthood had been extended to black members of the Church, then it must have been restricted from them before.

She confirmed that, yes, prior to 1978, black men could not be ordained to the priesthood.

It has troubled me ever since, like it has so many other Mormons. At times I have sought answers, but at nearly every single attempt I have been dissuaded from doing so. I remember one occasion in high school. The details are sketchy now, but I had been discussing it with my mom, on the way to Mutual one evening.

When we walked in the meetinghouse door, my home-teaching companion was standing there.

My mom suggested that I approach him with my concerns. His response? Repeating the sentiment expressed by President Gordon B. Hinckley some time earlier in his interview with Mike Wallace on 60 Minutes: it’s behind us, and it doesn’t matter now.

The ban may have been in the past, but it still felt like it mattered. As a Mormon, you grow up expecting that your church will have adequate answers to your questions. After all, if it can purport to answer the questions that have perplexed Christian theologians for centuries, and encompass the entirety of Truth no matter its source, then surely it can straightforwardly answer honest questions about its own history— and, as religions go, its relatively short, modern, seemingly well documented history at that. As an American, and particularly as a Southerner, I was well aware of this nation’s fraught history with race, and that for much of that history our nation had been on the wrong side of it—very clearly on the wrong side for a very long time. Surely the restored Church of Jesus Christ hadn’t itself been on the wrong side of history as well, just because it was established on American soil.

But most importantly, the ban seemed so contradictory to, well, everything I had been taught as a Mormon. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints taught me that God lived

and that all people—everyone, regardless of the color of their skin, or where they lived, or the time they lived in—are His children, and that the Atonement and gospel of Jesus Christ was for all of them. That was the crux of everything we did—it was the Church’s raison d’être. It was the point of temple work, and of missionary work, and it was, essentially, the guiding principle in how Church members were to live their everyday lives: all people, as children of God, are deserving of dignity and respect. That was the Church I grew up in, and the priesthood ban seemed a direct contradiction of all of it.

Where did the ban come from? Perhaps the reason no one had an adequate answer for my concerns is that there are currently no clear answers on this issue. As a friend recently pointed out, we record virtually everything as a Church—it’s our M.O. as an organization. Yet the record on the origin of the ban is scant: a private letter here, notes in a personal journal there. In a recent statement on the issue—quietly released without fanfare in the Gospel Topics section of LDS.org, yet the most open and straightforward I have ever seen the Church on this issue—the Church states that it appears that the ban was first publicly announced by President Brigham Young in 1852. There is no evidence of racial restrictions on the priesthood during the time of the Prophet Joseph Smith, a Northerner who openly opposed slavery (though he did enforce Nauvoo’s laws against interracial marriage).1

Over the years, Church leaders and members theorized doctrinal reasons—none of which bears repeating here—justifying the restriction on ordination to the priesthood and participation in temple ordinances. The Church’s recent statement clearly affirms, “None of these explanations is accepted today as the official doctrine of the Church.” So who and when appear to have an official answer, but why?

Was it doctrinal, divine direction given through revelation to God’s prophet? Or were Brigham Young and his contemporaries just racist, bowing to political and social pressure existing among Church members and more broadly in mid-19thcentury America? Many Latter-day Saints view the Church’s recent statement as an affirmation of their prior belief that, yes, Brigham Young was simply racist.

I feel the Church’s statement is much more circumspect. After all, if Brigham Young were racist—a significant character flaw for the official mouthpiece of God, someone who is supposed to transcend time and culture—then his broader authority as a prophet is called into question.

Then again, Mormons don’t believe in prophetic infallibility in, say, the same way Catholics believe in papal infallibility. God works through imperfect, mortal, flawed instruments, humans

who are just as capable of wrongdoing and prejudice as anyone else—see, for example, the stories of David and Solomon, and myriad others, in the Old Testament.

And restrictions on the priesthood or other aspects of the gospel are hardly a new thing, unique to this dispensation. In Old Testament times, only men of the tribe of Levi were permitted to hold priesthood authority and perform the ordinances of the tabernacle and, later, the temple. In the New Testament, Jesus first directed Peter and the apostles to carry the message of the gospel to the Jews.

Then Peter received a revelation, a vision recorded in Acts 10. In it, he “saw heaven opened, and a certain vessel descending unto him, as it had been a great sheet knit at the four corners, and let down to the earth: Wherein were all manner of fourfooted beasts of the earth, and wild beasts, and creeping things, and fowls of the air.” Peter heard a voice instructing him, “Rise, Peter; kill, and eat.” Peter protested: “Not so, Lord; for I have never eaten any thing that is common or unclean.” The voice rebuked him: “What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common.”2 A subsequent visit from Cornelius, a centurion who was a just man but nonetheless, as a Roman, a non-Jew, affirmed the meaning of the vision: the time had come to take the gospel of Jesus Christ to the Gentiles.

But what had Peter been protesting? Was it that he misunderstood the meaning of the vision? Yet, as the chief apostle, he had prophetic authority to receive revelation and guidance for the Church—and one would assume that this authority came with the ability to understand divine inspiration, including visions. For the inquiring believer, his misunderstanding casts a pall on his authority.

But what if he understood perfectly the meaning of the vision? Perhaps his protest was not a simpleminded resistance to breaking Jewish dietary law but, rather, a prejudicial resistance to taking the message of the gospel to non-Jews.

Yet again, his prophetic authority—which, as the administrator of the ordinances of salvation for all mankind, transcends time, place, and social constructs—is called into question.

Ultimately, I don’t know.3 Just as I don’t know why the ban on ordaining those of black African descent to the priesthood was instituted.

Were Brigham Young and his associates racists?

Maybe. Does that compromise their position as authorized servants of God—and, subsequently, the position of the current president of the Church, Thomas S. Monson, and all of us who hold the priesthood today, myself included, as holding authority that has been passed down in an unbroken line from the Prophet Joseph Smith? Honestly, perhaps it does. But I have felt

Scan this QR code to read the full text of the First Presidency’s 1969 letter at dialann.org/other/ letter-of-first-presidencyclarifies-churchs-positionon-the-negro 17

on numerous occasions that President Monson does indeed hold all the priesthood keys and that the priesthood that I hold is real and valid. How to reconcile the two, I wouldn’t know.

But all our focus on the origin of the ban overlooks what I feel is a much more important issue: why did it continue for so long? If it began in 1852, as the Church’s recent statement indicates, it continued for another 126 years—the vast majority of the history of the Church—under 11 different Church presidents. Were they all racist? And, if so, did their personal prejudices mislead the Church and its members for well over a century?

Yet one of those presidents, Wilford Woodruff, stated this: The Lord will never permit me or any other man who stands as President of this Church to lead you astray. It is not in the programme. It is not in the mind of God. If I were to attempt that, the Lord would remove me out of my place, and so He will any other man who attempts to lead the children of men astray from the oracles of God and from their duty.4

Another of those presidents, David O. McKay, grappled with the question of ordaining blacks of African descent to the priesthood and permitting them to participate in temple ordinances. The Church’s statement recalls: By the late 1940s and 1950s, racial integration was becoming more common in American life. Church President David O. McKay emphasized that the restriction extended only to men of black African descent. The Church had always allowed Pacific Islanders to hold the priesthood, and President McKay clarified that black Fijians and Australian Aborigines could also be ordained to the priesthood and instituted missionary work among them. In South Africa, President McKay reversed a prior policy that required prospective priesthood holders to trace their lineage out of Africa.

Nevertheless, given the long history of withholding the priesthood from men of black African descent, Church leaders believed that a revelation from God was needed to alter the policy, and they made ongoing efforts to understand what should be done. After praying for guidance, President McKay did not feel impressed to lift the ban.

Susan and Fiona walk toward the Salt Lake Temple on a snowy day in December 2012.

Under President McKay, the First Presidency issued a letter, using the language of the time, supporting full civil rights for all PHOTO TAKEN 26 DECEMBER 2012 BY DUSTIN

citizens: … we believe the Negro, as well as those of other races, should have his full constitutional privileges as a member of society, and we hope that members of the Church everywhere will do their part as citizens to see that these rights are held inviolate. Each citizen must have equal opportunities and protection under the law with reference to civil rights. …

We feel nothing but love, compassion, and the deepest appreciation for the rich talents, endowments, and the earnest strivings of our Negro brothers and sisters.

We are eager to share with men of all races the blessings of the gospel. We have no racially segregated congregations.

It does not appear that President McKay and his contemporaries were racists.

That same letter asserts that “the question of bestowing or withholding priesthood in the Church is a matter of religion and not a matter of constitutional right.” It affirms Church leaders’ belief “that the conferring of the priesthood must await [God’s] revelation,” and it asserts that the ban “is not something which originated with man; but goes back into the beginning with God.”

Did the ban originate in the possible racism of Brigham Young and his contemporaries?

Maybe. But I’m not as ready as other Mormons to jump to that conclusion, or to say that it was the only reason for the origin and long continuation of ban. Either Brigham Young was a prophet or he wasn’t—and if he was, then God either allowed him to lead the Church astray or He didn’t.

Did the ban continue because of the possible racism of subsequent presidents and General Authorities of the Church? Perhaps. But the 1969 letter from the First Presidency I quoted above, with its unequivocal support of full civil rights for all, makes it appear that at least some of them were not racist. Yet again, either they were God’s authorized servants or they were not, and God either allowed them to continue to lead the Church astray or he did not.

Either President Spencer W. Kimball was a prophet, and his announcement in 1978 that extended priesthood and temple blessings to all people without regard to race was a revelation from God, or he wasn’t a prophet, or the 1978 announcement was a P.R. move disguised as a revelation—which is all it would need to be if, indeed, the ban originated and continued in his predecessors’ racism. I am inclined to believe the former and neither of the latter.

Ultimately, while I take comfort in the

[The Lord] doeth that which is good among the children of men; and he doeth nothing save it be plain unto the children of men; and he inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female; and he remembereth the heathen; and all are alike unto God, both Jew and Gentile.

2 NEPHI 26:33

Church’s recent statement and its willingness to be so open about this and other aspects of our history, I am unprepared to say why the ban began or why it continued for so long. I simply don’t know, and I have yet to hear a satisfactory, conclusive explanation from the Church itself or from fellow Church members.

But what I am prepared to say is that racist theories for the ban that were perpetuated

by Church leaders and members in the past are unequivocally wrong. Independent of my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but affirmed by my faith in it, I believe that God is the Father of all mankind and that we are all unquestionably equal in his eyes. His Son, Jesus Christ, wrought an infinite Atonement for everyone, regardless of race or gender, and those of one race will be saved no faster than their brothers and sisters of any other race. In this light, it is our duty and privilege to treat everyone with the dignity, love, respect, and equality they deserve as children of God, and our laws and our government and social institutions should do the same. d

NOTES 1. According to Church member Richard Lyman Bushman’s biography of Joseph Smith, Rough Stone Rolling (see Dustin’s review of Rough Stone Rolling in Dialann 8.14–15) 2. Acts 10:11–15 3. Admittedly, if I had to place a bet, I would guess that it was a misunderstanding of the meaning of the vision. But that nonetheless calls into question Peter’s authority as God’s mouthpiece.

4. Doctrine and Covenants Official Declaration 1

19

LAST LOOK

7 SEPTEMBER 2013

Apple picking on the farm We’ve made a train trip to the farm an annual fall tradition. This year we took Metro-North’s Hudson Line to Beacon, where we boarded a bus and visited a couple of farms. At Fishkill Farms in Hopewell Junction, a giant bag of apples—picked by hand by us—was the prize we took home.

—dustin

PHOTO TAKEN BY SUSAN

Fiona and Dustin—a.k.a. “Mr. Daddy”—are having a blast doing preschool their way, at home. Crafts at home, forest school on Thursdays, visits to museums, and adventures all around the city—it’s a great way to spend every day. Oh, and Fiona’s learning a lot, too.

And so is Dustin.

dialann. org

IMAGE IN COLOR BAR ON NAMEPLATE TAKEN 2 MARCH 2007 BY DANIEL SCHWEN, CC BY-SA 2.5 COMMONS.W IKIMEDIA.ORG/WIKI/FILE:GOE_PLATZ_DER_SYNAGOGE_DETAIL_2_NOCA.JPG

SEE “MR. DADDY,” PAGE 4 AND “PLAYING WITH STICKS,” PAGE 6