Blogging My Autobiography - Chapter 20

It took me another 6 months to fully get Japanese. In that period, I had a Japanese companion for about 2 months so we spoke Japanese exclusively. it’s really the only way to become completely fluent. He was one of 17 companions I had over 2 years. Being in a companionship someone once said is like being married with none of the benefits. This is a true statement to a point. Companions can be highly annoying and they can be your best friend, listening to all your troubles. I had both along the way. In fairness, I was both of those myself. At the beginning of my 2 years, highly annoying, for the rest, I tried hard to be a friend and that seemed to work until the end. My last companionship was a trial for both of us. I am not here to dwell on the difficulties, though. Just the good times.

My first companion in Japan was from Wyoming. He was obsessed with whizzers (Japanese men who urinated in public. It was a pretty common practice at the time) and ice cream and could walk faster than anyone I had ever met. It helped that he was 6’ 6“ and had long legs. I was only two inches shorter and had to run at times to keep up. He was a good companion, aside from the whizzer thing, and had great enthusiasm for the work.

There are maybe 3 or 4 companions that were the best for me. All of them brought something special to my time in Japan. Elder Durham was my model for a perfect missionary. He was my 2nd companion in Japan. Always calm, always kind, never ruffled ever. His testimony was tremendous but not obvious as some are. To me, he glowed with the Spirit. We taught some awesome investigators, including Ken Saito who became a friend and joined the Church just before I was transferred. The work was effortless for Elder Durham, a spiritually gifted man.

In my next area, I had some great companions but the area after that was special. Nagaoka is a midsize city northeast of Tokyo about 3 hours by bullet train. I had 3 special companions there. One was my Japanese companion, the others were Elder Richins and Elder Checketts. Two more different people you will never see. Elder Richins was like Gary Cooper, the strong, silent cowboy. Like most real cowboys I know, he was a worker. Always up and at ‘em and worked constantly. In this smaller town, there was not a lot of street proselyting. Mostly we went house to house, trying to lend Books of Mormon. Elder Richins excelled at this and we had a lot of investigators, more than any missionary pair had ever had in that small branch. Church on Sunday was usually 7-8 members. It was a close community and I felt a part of it from the beginning. Elder Richins had been there a while and was well loved. I loved him too.

Elder Checketts was a truly unique individual. I have always called him Screamin’ Chad Checketts because that was his favorite word. Everything was screamin’ for Elder Checketts. It was screamin’ good or screamin’ awful or anywhere in between. It makes me laugh just to think about it. We baptized more people that any companionship ever in that branch up to that time, 5 people. We almost doubled the size of the active branch in large part because Checketts was a driver, a bundle of energy that was so contagious you couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement. Here is an excerpt from my diary about Elder Checketts.

We had us, as my dode (a slangification of the Japanese word doryo or companion) would say, ”A screamin’ weird day“ today. It started out real fine with a 3rd at (kanji I can’t remember) they are really keyed. the mother said she might have problems with the Word of Wisdom-but she would live it anyway. When we asked them how the benkyo (study) was going-they said, ”Well, we read aloud to each other every day and then pray about it.“ Wow, that’s the greatest, just like our study class. They are getting a good testimony, we were really keyed.

The weather cleared up nice today for a while. All was going well until it started to rain. Then we had a hard time lending books and my dode was getting down again. We had a FHE (Family Home Evening) scheduled with Yoshihara and Ishizuka S. (S is for Shimai or sister in Japanese) but they didn’t show. My dode got madder and madder. Finally in the middle of a downpour Ishizuka came and apologized, said she couldn’t make it. She was really sad. Boy, lo Checketts didn’t give her any mercy-though I really felt sorry for her. After she left, he just blew up! I’ve not seen too many people get that mad before. Sa, I thought it was stupid. But he really blew. About the same time Brough C. (Choro or Elder) came in soaking wet and as mad as a ”wet hen“ (joke). Well, they were both mad together. I thought it was all pretty funny and just laughed to myself.

We went to a camera shop on a dendo (proselyting) day --- TODAY! I couldn’t believe it! But my dode was feeling down so we did. Boy, I don’t know!

We both loved cameras, so it was a forbidden indulgence. I liked it as much as he did, I just had more guilt.

One missionary who I worked with or along side of for 3/4ths of my mission was Elder Memmott. He is the only one I regularly keep in touch with. He was the Zone Leader and I was the Zone Language Leader. We had more fun as companions than I can detail here. We were traveling Elders, responsible for 24 other Elders over a large section of Eastern Tokyo. He was the leader and I was the language teacher. Imagine, I was now in the position of the person who helped me with Japanese a year before. Elder Memmott was more than anything a friend. He respected everyone and everyone respected him. Many ZLs would cause the Elders to run when they came to town. Everyone wanted to work with Memmott because he made you feel good about yourself. He is still doing that today as an oil executive. He has 7 children, all great people and a wonderful wife today. He was for me and is for her, a great companion, though I haven’t forgiven him for not getting a ticket for racing on the freeway at home when I did. Ah well.

Blogging My Autobiography - Chapter 19

I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for two years in Japan. Outside of marrying my wife and the birth of our two children this event was the most important of my life. The lessons learned there have touched every aspect of my time in this mortal sphere. To try and put all of that down in one chapter will be impossible. My journal entries alone would cover at least 100 typewritten pages. So I will be writing two chapters on my experiences and lessons from Japan and this will close out my teenage years. I came home an adult at age 21 with a different view of the world.

It was not a given that I would go on a mission. Being the rebel that I was at the time, I really thought that I would be better served going to school and getting my degree. I wanted to be a journalist, writing and taking pictures for National Geographic or Life Magazine. Consequently I was majoring in English at school and toying with art classes. We had just finished the 60’s and my views were somewhat left of where they are now. A mission was not really on my mind until Grant, my advisor, came to me and asked me if I planned on going on a mission. I told him I hadn't given it much thought. He said, “If you are not going, then you can forget about working on the fire crew this year. If you do decide to go, then you can work this summer and make some money towards it.” Well that did get me thinking, quite a lot, actually. In March of that year, I thought I should ask God about it so I went in the bathroom to pray alone. I remember kneeling at the bathtub asking what to do and telling the Lord that I was willing, but still unsure. The answer did not come until I stood up and went to the door. It flashed in my head that I was going to Japan and then I knew what I should do. I worked that summer as Grant had promised and when the call came, I didn’t even need to open the letter, I knew what it would say, Japan Tokyo Mission.

Every missionary has obstacles to overcome during their mission. For some, leaving home is a terrible thing and homesickness becomes a problem. Others have issues with testimony or pride. For me, it was Japanese, compounded by pride and ego. I suppose that testimony for me was something of an issue at first, but all it took to sort that out was the Book of Mormon. After that, I really didn’t doubt. What I did come to doubt was my ability to learn Japanese. All my life I had been able to learn very quickly anything I put my mind to. The Japanese language was a brick wall that I ran into at 80 miles an hour. We spent 3 months in Hawaii drilling for 12 hours a day all of the 43 sounds that make up Japanese. We also drilled on phrases like konnichi wa (good day) and hajimemashite (pleasure to meet you). We also had to memorize the lesson plan, 7 lessons that explained our church and it’s beliefs. I worked very hard, but nothing was coming. Two months in, I was ready to go home. It was either that or run away and never go home or worse. It got so bad I wrote my father about it. My father and I rarely saw eye to eye on anything, though I have never known anyone who understood the Gospel better. For me to write him was truly a desperate act. Amazingly he responded with a letter that I still have today. It was compassionate, loving and full of good advice. I knew it was pride that was holding me back. I told him so and he agreed. He said that it was OK to acknowledge ability but not good to be puffed up in self pride, which goeth before a fall. He told me that it was OK to grow in ability and that this would take time. Being a farm boy, he used a metaphor from his youth. “When you are thinning beets, don’t look up the row at what you have to do, you will get discouraged. Look back at what you have done and the end of the row will come quicker than you think” I looked back at where I was then compared to when I started and saw the progress. I was encouraged enough to make it to Japan, then it started all over again.

The first 6 months were heaven and hell in Japan. The language was a huge barrier still. Most folks will tell you that I am a talker. That’s Grandma Grace’s family completely. They all have the gift of gab. A person like that who can’t express themselves to the people around them feels like they are drowning in a sea of gibberish. The frustration grew, inhibiting my progress with the lesson plan. I could not give the lessons without the book. At the time, if you had not passed off the lessons you did your reports on a pink sheet. When you passed them all off, you went to a white sheet. All of my peers and some younger missionaries had become white sheeters. All of them, except me. Finally it came to a head and I locked myself in a closet and would not come out. My companion was sympathetic but wanted to work. So our Zone Language Leader, a senior missionary who was responsible for our progress in the language, stayed with me. I stayed in that closet for 6 hours, crying, ranting and pounding the floor spending all of my energy in a petulant, frustrated fit. He was calm through the whole thing, listening and helping me with sticking points in the lessons until he said, “Look, I know you have the language to do this, I think you know more than you give yourself credit for, so I am going to pass you to a white sheet and put this behind you.” It was like a blindfold had been taken off and the mental ropes that had tied me up were dissolved and I could speak Japanese plus give the lessons. Were they flawless? No, they weren’t but that was OK. I could bear my testimony and teach effectively. I never looked back.

My Dad has passed away now and I don’t know where the Elder who helped me is anymore, but to both of them, thank you from the bottom of my heart.