These words, beginning my friend Russell Stevenson’s one-sentence summary of one of my blog posts, should be spoken in fear and trepidation, and only at a Weight watcher’s meeting. I had a message from a good friend urging me to respond to the response to my first blog on priesthood restrictions, etc. I am not eager to enter the fray yet again, as it is generally unkind. But my statement was not: “[T]the proper way to address this is through... Read more
This is Augustina Choc and her family. It’s not a great picture. You can see my thumb holding it. This was the passport picture the Choc family of Patzicia, Guatemala had when they went by bus to the Mesa, Arizona temple. They saved for years to make this trip. There were a few other families with them. One of the women who participated, Rosalia Tum, told me in her broken Spanish (she speaks Cakchiquel) how touched she was that “everyone... Read more
This was one of the last posts I did when I blogged at By Common Consent. It has renewed significance now. My husband and I recently saw a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode called “Darmok.” In it, the Enterprise is threatened with destruction if they can’t interpret the language of the “enemy” ship’s creatures. Captain Picard is sent to a planet to attempt communication with one of these “enemy” aliens. As it turns out, the aliens’ language is all... Read more
When my family moved to Utah from Illinois, I spent the last month of fourth grade at Wasatch Elementary. Two days after I arrived, nobody would talk to me. Finally, a classmate who was also in my primary class gave me a two-page list of my faults, explaining my unworthiness to associate with the others. First on the list was this: “You have red hair.” True. I could not deny it. Second: “You show off.” Also true. I did cartwheels... Read more
The photo on the right was taken this morning. My brother, Dell, took it. That’s my dad and me in the swimming pool. Yes, I still do aqua zumba, for those of you who love picturing that, and so does my husband. But lately, my brother has been taking Dad to swim before dialysis, and I often join them. In one week, Dad will turn eighty-three. In February, we will finish seven years of dialysis. This morning, I walked alongside... Read more
Yes, it is foolish to rush in yet again after the reception my initial blog post received. Nonetheless, here I go. Let me first address the two main talking points which have been repeated by many supporters of “Ordain Women.” First, the gathering on October 5th, followed by a press conference, is not a protest. In fact, said H. Beal, “This is not a protest. Anyone who characterizes it as such is seeking to dismiss or malign us.” In two... Read more
I am re-posting something I wrote several years ago, because of the wonderful news we got yesterday, included in the title. Previously posted in By Common Consent. My son, by the way, did graduate from high school. He is doing well and continues to surprise us by his wisdom. So my son will not pass Sports Medicine this term. Alas. We worked so hard. And I do mean WE. I taught myself the material so I could tutor him. But... Read more
June 8, 1971—an important day. Three black men, Ruffin Bridgeforth, Darius Gray, and Eugene Orr met with three junior apostles: Gordon B. Hinckley, Thomas S. Monson, and Boyd K. Packer. This was all under the direction of Joseph Fielding Smith, the president of the LDS church. The issue for Gene Orr was priesthood. “These were negotiating meetings,” Gene says in the documentary Nobody Knows: The Untold Story of Black Mormons. “We wanted the priesthood.” Darius Gray did not believe that... Read more
“Not Knowing Beforehand the things which I should Do” It’s because I’m a Blair. My father has set me in Middle-of-Nowhere, Mexico and instructed me to figure out how to say fifty different words in some dialect spoken there. He once told my siblings and me in the middle of Guatemala City, “I’ve got a conference, but I hear there’s a museum around here. Go find it. I’ll meet you back here in five hours.” I have a long tradition... Read more
Mel Hamilton is one of my heroes. He spoke on July 13th about his experience as one of the Black Fourteen at Wyoming University in 1969. He and thirteen other black players on the team—the best Wyoming had ever had and perhaps the best they will have—wanted to protest the Mormon priesthood restriction when they played BYU. They wanted to play the game, but wearing black armbands. Their coach, Lloyd Eaton, asked them to sit in the fieldhouse bleachers. (more…) Read more
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In