Mary

When we were little, Mary was my closest sibling.  We spent a lot of time together.  We used to have tickle fights.  We had a smaller than twin size bed with a non-standard sized foam mattress on which we slept.  A tickle fight was a kind of wrestle in which each participant tries to tickle the other.  We would howl with laughter.  It was the most amazing fun a little kid could have.
   At age five I had a dream which still makes me ponder.  I dreamed that Mary and I were in a large room with no furnishings--colorless--maybe white.  We were playing with a bag of blocks.  Then I was playing alone.  Then I was in the bag suffocating.  Then I was being carried down a long hallway to a room where my mother waited in a large, bed with large metal (brass like) headboard.  I was an infant being handed to her.  That's all I remember of the dream.  I do not believe that the infant brain records memories--at least not like the more developed brain does, but I can't help thinking that this dream was about my birth.
   In the coming years Mary connected more with Jeanne and Anne than she did with me, so I don't have many memories with her after that.  She would have been part of all of the family activities and neighborhood activities that I would have been involved in: fishing trips, neighborhood night games, Christmas puzzles, shelling walnuts while Mom read stories to us, weeding the garden, etc.
   When I was a little older Mom and Dad went out for the evening and left Mary in charge of the younger children.  I was playing in our backyard which was fenced off.  Mary left and went to play night games with the neighbors.  The little ones escaped.  The little ones would have been Eileen and Lillian, Howard, and maybe Sam, though Sam would have been very small at the time.  When our parents got home, Dad didn't stop to ask what the deal was but beat my butt for not taking care of the kids.  I didn't get a chance to tell him that Mary was in charge.  I have lived in an unfair universe ever since.  Hahaha.
   When Mary went to college she took a job working in the Language Training Mission's cafeteria.  She was cashier at the end of the line and got to meet all of the Elders.  I think she must hold the record for most missionaries written to at the same time.  This is how she met Jonathan Snow, a very mild mannered man who went through medical school and became a pathologist.  A pathologist is the person who does autopsies, or who studies biopsies to aid in diagnosis.  The major advantage is that the pathologist is never on call, never has to work the savage hours of a hospital doctor, and makes good money if not as much as a surgeon.  It's a great choice for a family man who wants to dedicate time to church and family.
   Some years ago Mary and I began to have political run ins on the family web site (my family.com which no longer exists).  Mary would sometimes post things without thinking of their full ramification and I, feeling it my duty in live to point out all such errors would call her on these.  One, in particular was a piece that Mary had posted which suggested that the nuclear family was under attack and that certain politicians must be supported to prevent--something terrible.  The piece was fear mongering, and was politically motivated--something that completely escaped Mary.  I won points for my challenge to the post from the liberal leaning members of the family, but drifted somewhat away from the conservative element of the family.  I don't regret, and don't think I ever will regret my political stance, but I do regret the trouble I have been through and have put others through as I have learned how to discuss politics without rancor.  (No, I'm not quit there even now.)
I will say that one of my nephew's spouses wrote to thank me for my comments.  Mary didn't realize how unkind her post was to people in the LGBT community, and this dear niece by marriage was feeling alone in a largely conservative family.  My post let her know that she wasn't alone.  
    Political posting is something that I still struggle with: One side of me wants to set politics aside and focus entirely on missionary work.  The other side of me feels like I must stand politely, but firmly behind my political beliefs.  Forgive an old man who is conflicted on this issue.
    Some of you might remember a four day visit I had to the hospital in Springfield, MO.  I was suffering from pneumonia.  I have always avoided taking sick days, even when I am legitimately sick.  I had a bad cold.  It wasn't getting any better.  Jon and Mary Snow were visiting here in MO.  I think it was a little after Mother's funeral.  Jon could tell how sick I was and tried to talk me into visiting the emergency room.  I didn't want to do it.  I finally, after much pressure admitted that the emergency room co-pay is $250, even with insurance, and we didn't have $250.  Jon offered to pay that for me if I would go.  I couldn't say no anymore and allowed him to take me.  The emergency room doctor put me in an ambulance and sent me to the hospital in Springfield.  Luckily, it snowed, school was canceled and I only missed a day or two of work.
  Shortly after this Jon and Mary left for their mission to New Zealand.  Mary and I have both mellowed considerably in the last twenty years.  We don't discuss politics much, which is fine with me.  Mary seems to have accepted that she won't change my political stance, and I no longer find posts of hers to which I need to respond.
   This summer when Mom and I got to the Weber with Emily and Uncle Sam, I may invite Mary to spend a day of two with us.  Despite the political strife, she is still very dear to me.  I may find that my relationship with her will be like that with my father: I can love her from a distance better than I can up close.  But I don't think so.  I believe that Mary and I will find a way towards peaceful coexistence.  At heart, we really feel the same way about most things.  I ponder deeply the problems of daily LDS practice, while Mary simply accepts things unquestioningly.  I won't fault her for that.  And I hope that the Lord will not fault me for turning over every stone and examining every beehive. I believe fiercely that there is an answer to every question.  Some of my questions are answered by the Lord in moments of my asking, and others have taken as long as 20 years of study and pondering.
   In my wanderings through life I have learned that sometimes apostles are wrong, but that the united voice of the quorum of the twelve has never been wrong.  I have learned that some things that men who are or who become prophets say are wrong, but the pronouncements of the First Presidency have never been wrong.  I have also learned that the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has moved closer to the Lord since the quorum was first organized, and is more unified now than it has ever been.  (Not my idea, but Boyd K Packer's)  It is natural that the quorum would grow over time.  There is a sweet refining taking place that we should learn from.  If it continues, the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve will be ready to lead us to the Savior at His second coming.  
   Well, I'm starting to ramble.  This marks the halfway point in my family.  I am number seven of thirteen--the smack middle child of a very large family.  Next week I start on the group of siblings known to the older ones as "the little kids."