ISSUE 10 APRIL 2013
THE MAP TO
ZION Centering our lives literally and spiritually on covenants and the gospel of Jesus Christ
ISSUE 10 APRIL 2013
table of contents 2
THE JOURNAL
2
Susan: How we ended up here
Our move to New York has one overarching theme: it was not just coincidence.
COLOPHON Our family Susan Jane Hibdon Joyce Dustin Tyler Joyce Fiona Claire Joyce
4 Dustin: Dustin the dropout
Sometimes the right path doesn’t go the way you—or others—expect. part 1 of 2
6 Fiona: I nursery 7
I now have something to look forward to every Sunday when we go to church. HERE & THERE
8 October 2012–March 2013 STORIES NEW SECTION!
10 Irwin Wilburmeier: King of Dingle Hollow National Park
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By Susan in collaboration with Martin and Ellen When a kid with a vivid imagination gets lost, all sort of things can happen.
12 My week as a governor’s page
By Dustin | My week as a page was my first insight into how government really works. OUR TIMES
14 Habemus papam
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On the cover Front: A bird’s-eye view of Salt Lake City, Utah Territory, by Augustus Koch (1840–?), published by the Chicago Lithographing Company in 1870. Library of Congress Geography and Map Division, g4344s pm009280 http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.gmd/g4344s. pm009280 Back: Pierre Charles L’Enfant’s plan for Washington, D.C. Library of Congress Geography and Map Division, g3850 ct000509 http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.gmd/ g3850.ct000509 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.
By Dustin | Jorge Mario Bergoglio, the archbishop of Buenos Aires, becomes the 266th pontiff of the Catholic Church.
Dialann—Irish for “journal”—is published quarterly at New York, in January, April, July, and October.
WE BELIEVE IN CHRIST
Printed by Blurb | blurb.com
16 Establishing—and becoming—Zion
By Dustin | Zion is more than a physical place. It is a spiritual state, which means it can be established anywhere—even here in New York City. LAST LOOK
20 Our little girl grows up (but not too much yet)
Published by Dustin Tyler Joyce | dtjoyce.com
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? Dustin’s week as a page for the governor was one of the first times he saw a political protest, which seemed
really cool at the time (though, in hindsight, a little gathering at the North Carolina State Capitol? not actually that cool). SEE PAGE 12
THE JOURNAL SUSAN
How we ended up here. Our move to New York has one overarching theme: it was not just coincidence.
APRIL 2013
Fiona hangs out in a box while we pack up our apartment in Washington, D.C.
I
’ve decided it’s about time to tell the story of how we ended up moving to New York, which is, in a way, an ongoing story, since we don’t necessarily feel like all the loose ends are tied up yet. But I’ve been thinking about it recently, and it’s amazing how well everything worked out. We were incredibly lucky and blessed to end up here the way we did, and I don’t believe that everything that happened was just a coincidence—I think Heavenly Father was looking out for us. It all started in 2006, when I moved to Washington, D.C., and started working at Bladensburg High School in Prince George’s County, Maryland—not one of the better school systems in the country. At the time, one of the brag points on the county’s website was “America’s 17th largest school system!” Which, in my opinion, is nothing to brag about. Sure enough, I soon discovered that Bladensburg was… not very awesome. My principal would say over the intercom each morning, “Welcome to Bladensburg High School, the very best high school in the universe,” which just seemed like a cruel joke, since it wasn’t even the best high school on the block. Anyway, every December for several years, I decided I wasn’t coming back the next year, because I couldn’t stand the negativity and ineptness of the majority of adults I worked with. And every year, out of a sense of duty, I came back. But I never took the classes I needed to renew my teaching certificate, so in 2011 I forced myself out of teaching in Maryland. I knew that not having a certificate would likely be the only way I would extricate myself. Meanwhile, Dustin, who had resigned from his job working with The United States Conference of Mayors and Development Initiatives, Inc., in January 2011, had found a temporary, six-month position at Transportation for America. There was a chance that the position would be extended when it ended in October, but no guarantee, and although he was interested in the work, he didn’t enjoy his office environment. So he was up for a change. I had completed an application to teach for the New York City Department of Education in the spring, and in June, I got a call from an assistant principal in The Bronx. She asked me to come up to visit the school and have an interview, so I did. It was pretty exciting for me to go to The City all by myself and find my way around. The teachers and students I talked to at this school seemed great. The AP, Liz, talked my ear off. I had no idea what she was getting at most PHOTO TAKEN 27 AUGUST 2011
of the time. When she wasn’t talking, she stared at me silently for several seconds after I finished answering her question, then finally gave a quick nod and a “hm.” I managed to get out with barely enough time to get back to Penn Station in time for my train. They might have offered me a job there had I completed the thing Liz asked me to do—as I recall, it was planning a unit of some sort—but I decided it just wasn’t the place for me. So I emailed her and told her I wasn’t interested. Dustin thought I was crazy, but I told him I didn’t want to live in The Bronx, and Inwood was too far away, and that school was going to suck so much time and energy out of me that I didn’t think I could do it. So we still had no plan. A few weeks later got another call, this time from a principal in Brooklyn. He asked if I wanted to come teach a demo lesson in a few days, so I did—another solo trek up to New York, and this time I found my way around Brooklyn all by myself. The lesson, which is still one of my favorites, went quite well, as did the interview afterwards. A day or so later, the principal called back and offered me the job, which I accepted fairly quickly, as I recall. Then some problems arose. It turned out there was a hiring freeze on social-studies teachers, but the principal had assumed he could hire me as an ESL teacher, since I also had that certification from Texas. Unfortunately, my ESL certificate didn’t transfer to New York because I had had it for less than three years. So the options were apply for an exception (which they did, but it was denied) or hire me per-session, meaning I wouldn’t officially be a teacher and would be paid by the hour, though I would still earn the same amount of money as I would normally. I was pretty much prepared to do that, even though it didn’t sound like the most attractive option. Then one day, out of the blue, they lifted the hiring freeze for social-studies teachers. Why, I will never know, since there is certainly no shortage of us out there. In any case, the principal called and said they were doing the paperwork that day to make sure they did it before the people in charge changed their minds. About a week before school started, we came to Brooklyn and stayed in an empty apartment in Fort Greene for two nights while we looked for a place of our own. It was not a pleasant experience. I stayed up late recording places I found on Trulia, only to discover that Trulia is a completely worthless website because everything is out of date. So we arrived in Brooklyn with no useful information. We went
to an apartment broker, who took us around to four different places, three of which were not particularly awesome. But one of them was nice on the inside. I hated the neighborhood, which was loud and hot and ugly, without a tree in sight. We went for it anyway, because we didn’t have much of a choice. I cried when we signed the lease, which I think might have concerned our landlady, who was sitting right there in front of me. I blame the medication I was taking, which I quit two days later. I felt much, much better after that. I am amazed at how well things came together for us. Our apartment is not where we want to spend the rest of our lives, but we really like it here. It’s cozy and pleasant and, most of
Even though we are looking forward to some changes, the reality is that our life is exactly how we want it to be. We have a safe, comfortable home; we have time to spend together reading or playing or cooking or exploring; we are able to support ourselves; we have each other. And I know that our lives have been directed to get us to this point.
the time, pretty clean. And I’m very fortunate to be working at a school that I actually like. The staff is a pleasure to work with. Everyone is competent, which is a big change from my last school. And the majority are much better than just competent, which is really a breath of fresh air. In some ways, our life is not exactly what we want it to be. We are hoping to buy a house soon so we’ll have a little more space, a rental income, and a garden. Dustin would like to have a full-time job in his field, and I would like to spend more time at home working on projects. But even though we are looking forward to some changes, the reality is that our life is exactly how we want it to be. We have a safe, comfortable home; we have time to spend together reading or playing or cooking or exploring; we are able to support ourselves; we have each other. And I know that our lives have been directed to get us to this point. d
3
THE JOURNAL DUSTI N
Dustin the dropout. I didn’t finish college. But sometimes the right path doesn’t go the way you—or others—expect. PART 1 OF 2
An opportunity and a decision
I don’t have a college degree. That’s a bold confession to make in a day and age where ability and intelligence are measured not by what’s between your ears but rather by the paper between your hands, whether it’s green on the back or written in Latin. But I did go to college. So, people wonder, why the disconnect? Why didn’t I finish a degree? Was I too lazy? Was I too stupid? Could I not afford it? No, no, and—well, for me and every other college student in this nation (except the wealthiest), the answer to this question is a little more complex than a simple yes or no, and I’ll get to it later. This is the first installment of a two-part series explaining why I didn’t finish college. My reasons fall into two broad categories. The first, which I discuss here, is that my life’s journey didn’t take me down that path.
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I
went to college. Three, in fact. I started at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City in August 2003. But after a couple of years there, and a switch of majors from architecture to urban planning, with French tossed in for good measure, I decided that I was both in need of a different perspective on urban planning and a change of scenery from Utah and the Salt Lake Valley, where I had by that point lived for four years (including the two years of my mission). So, through a program called the International Student Exchange Program, which allowed me to pay tuition, room, and board at the University of Utah but study at a foreign university, I spent half a year at Radboud Universiteit Nijmegen in The Netherlands. This was followed by half a year at the Institut des Études Françaises pour Étudiants Étrangers in Aix-en-Provence, France, affiliated with what at the time was Université Paul Cézanne AixMarseille III (it is now simply Aix-Marseille Université). It was what came next that changed my plans. I had originally planned to return to the University of Utah to complete my studies in urban planning. One of the requirements for the degree was to do an internship. A good friend of mine was going to do an internship that summer in Washington, D.C., with the University of Utah’s Hinckley Institute of Politics, and I thought that could be a good place to knock out my internship requirement, too. So I applied and was accepted into the program as well, and I landed an internship at The United States Conference of Mayors, which I thought would fulfill the urban-planning degree’s internship requirement rather nicely. (One of my professors at the College of Architecture + Planning, Keith Bartholomew, wasn’t quite so sure. But, in the end, what he thought didn’t matter anyway.) Within the Conference of Mayors, I worked for the Council for the New American City. (This council has had a few iterations of its name over the years, but that’s what it was called when I worked there.) This council was a group of mayors, national nonprofits, and the private sector coming together to encourage investment in America’s cities and metropolitan areas. Part of its work was a nationwide financial education campaign called Dollar Wi$e (or DollarWI$E or DollarWise—whatever). Now is as good a time as any to throw in that the Conference of Mayors is based at 1620 I Street NW, basically a block from the White House. My first day at my internship was Monday, 15 PHOTO TAKEN 27 APRIL 2004 BY DUSTIN
May 2006. The Friday before, the woman under whom I would have been directly working left her position to move to El Paso, Texas, with her husband’s job in the military. So that left me, as an unpaid intern, to more or less do her job running Dollar Wi$e and doing everything else she did for the Council for the New American City. I really enjoyed my internship. I liked what I was doing, and I liked the people I was working with. I liked it so much that I even woke up extra early some mornings so I could get to the office earlier than I was expected to. And it was a thrill working in the heart of the nation’s capital. I wanted to do the best job I could in this internship. My efforts and ability did not go unnoticed. Partway through the summer, my colleagues at the council sat me down and presented an idea. Their proposal: I could have the position that was vacated just before I started my internship. They knew that would mean a major change in my plans to return to Salt Lake to finish college, and they gave me some time to think about it. It was gratifying to see that my work had gotten their attention, and I felt honored that they liked me and my work well enough to offer me the job. It was an enticing proposal. Did I mention that the Conference of Mayors is just a block from the White House? And Washington, D.C., is a beautiful city. It has a certain quality that goes well beyond most other American cities. Its walkability and high-quality public transit are part—but not all—of it. Remaining there certainly appealed to me more than returning to Salt Lake, where I felt I had put in my time, for lack of a better way of putting it. But that’s not to say that it was an easy decision, because it wasn’t. Finishing up my degree was a sticking point (and, I should add, a concern for my colleagues as well—not because they thought I lacked ability without it, but because they didn’t want their offer to distract me from obtaining a degree, which they considered an important goal). But more importantly I had built a couple of strong friendships in my second year at the University of Utah, and these friends and I had planned on finding an apartment near the University of Utah and being roommates in the coming year. Staying in D.C. would mean missing out on that opportunity—an opportunity that would probably never arise again. (Admittedly, from time to time I still feel a twinge of regret that I missed out on this opportunity.) But as I pondered what I should do, and as
I weighed the pros and cons of staying in D.C. versus returning to Utah, I felt that staying was the right thing to do. So I did. My first day as an employee of Development Initiatives, Inc.—a political consulting firm that contracted with the Conference of Mayors to run the Council for the New American City and its programs, including Dollar Wi$e (it had other clients, too)—was Monday, 14 August 2006. That happened to be Susan Hibdon’s first day on the job at Prince George’s County Public Schools in Maryland, just to the east of D.C. We met the following January. On 29 February 2008, we were married in the Manhattan New York Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. On 15 July 2010, our daughter, Fiona, joined our family. I think it’s safe to say that I made the right choice. But hindsight, as they say, is 20/20. At the time I made my decision, I didn’t know that the woman who would become my eternal companion was arriving in the same place, trying to figure out what to do with her life after her mission. I didn’t know that staying in D.C. would lead to my marriage and the birth of an incredible little girl. Yet even without that knowledge, as Susan has pointed out, the choice really was kind of an obvious one. One option was to go back to Utah, where I had already spent years of my life, and try to eke more learning out of classrooms on a university campus, all the while going deeper and deeper into debt in pursuit of a degree that in the recession economy of the coming years (something else I didn’t know was coming) may or may not be worth anything. The other option was to work in the heart of the nation’s capital, a block from the White House, for an organization that is at the forefront of addressing many of the issues facing America’s cities and urban areas. It offered an incredible opportunity for firsthand learning, far surpassing anything I could have learned listening to lectures in a classroom. And it was an opportunity to live in one of the most vibrant and dynamic urban areas in North America. Really, what better choice could I have made? d coming in part 2 of 2 The other reasons I didn’t finish college, which have more to do with college than with me.
At the time I made my decision, I didn’t know that the woman who would become my eternal companion was arriving in the same place, trying to figure out what to do with her life after her mission. I didn’t know that staying in D.C. would lead to my marriage and the birth of an incredible little girl.
The John R. Park Memorial Building, home to the University of Utah’s central administration. 5
THE JOURNAL FIONA
I nursery. I now have something to look forward to every Sunday when we go to church.
O
n Sundays, we go to church. I really like going to church because I get to sing songs, take the sacrament, see my friends, and go to nursery. I can’t remember how long I’ve been going to nursery, but it’s been a long time now—as long as I can TOOTHTRACKER Teeth as of 30 April 2013: 20! remember, in fact. When I first started going, it was just me and my friend Elliott, 17 March 2013 and we would hang out with Elliott’s This one also came in sometime recently, but daddy and play with toys. Then someone we’re not sure when. else would come in and we would have a lesson about something like saying thank you or how Heavenly Father loves us. UPPER Then Elliott’s mama would come in and we would sing songs. It was all pretty fun. right left Then, after we had been doing that for a while, some new kids started coming. One of them is my friend LOWER Graham, whom I love to play with. There’s also Kamiyah, who is pretty fun and comes every other week. Then there are Fiona now has all of her baby teeth! Wilder and Theo, who are pretty little. And for a little while, there was a little boy who came, but I didn’t really like to play with him. He didn’t follow instructions and he cried a lot, and one time he pulled on my hair really hard. I had a hard time being friends with him, even though I tried sometimes. A
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few months ago, Elliott got old enough to start going to Primary instead of nursery, but luckily, now I have other friends to play with. We also got a new teacher last summer. Her name is Paola. At first, I was nervous of her. I didn’t want to go to nursery for a few weeks, and Mama had to sit with me and comfort me in the next room. Then she helped me get used to Paola being my teacher, and I’m glad, because I found out I like Paola. She would bring us play dough and a parachute to play with, and read us books and sing with us, and give us yummy snacks and help us say prayers. I always had so much fun. Then one day after sacrament meeting, Graham came over to me so that we could go to nursery, and I asked Mama where Paola was. Mama said, “Oh, Fiona, Paola moved. She doesn’t live here anymore.” I was so sad. I really loved going to nursery with Paola. But Mama says we will still get to see her this Saturday. Paola had a baby in her tummy, and she was having a party, so we got a present for the baby and went to the party. I was glad I got to see Paola again. Now I have a new teacher, Sister Hughes. I was nervous of her at first, too. But I’ve started getting used to her. Every week in nursery, we learn something new and usually we make something I can show Mama and Daddy. This week, we talked about the Book of Mormon, which Mama and Daddy and I read every night. In nursery, we talked about some of the things that happen in the Book of Mormon, like when Jesus Christ was born and when he blessed the children. We haven’t gotten to that part yet, but I think I’ll like it when we get there. d
Fiona’s adventures 2
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1 Riding the Long Island Rail Road, Atlantic Terminal, Brooklyn, 26 April 2013 2 Learning to dribble, 26 April 2013 3 Checking out the newly renovated Smith-9 St subway station, the highest elevated subway station in the world, 27 April 2013 4 Eating an ice-cream cone for the first time. Okay, so it’s actually frozen yogurt. Pinkberry, 24 St. Marks Place, Manhattan, 27 April 2013 5 Picnic with Daddy, Brooklyn Bridge Park, 1 May 2013 6 Pretending to be a firefighter, Staten Island Children’s Museum (SICM), 1 June 2013 7 Riding the Staten Island Ferry, 1 June 2013 8 On a stoop in DUMBO, 85 Water Street, Brooklyn, 1 May 2013 9 Pretending to be a firefighter, SICM 10 Trying on an exoskeleton, SICM 11 First bike helmet, Socrates Sculpture Park, 8 June 2013 12 The Water Lab, Pier 6, Brooklyn Bridge Park, 31 May 2013 13 Sad that Paola moved, 2 June 2013 14 Playing with Daddy’s shaving cream, 3 June 2013
7 CELL-PHONE PHOTOS TAKEN BY DUSTIN
October 2012–March 2013 These buildings at 1125–1139 Irving Avenue here in Bushwick were named among the top 5 most toxic places in New York City by a local newspaper thanks to their connection with the Manhattan Project.
Toxic New York The five most toxic places in New York City, according to local newspaper Metro: 1 Newtown Creek, Brooklyn and Queens Historically used as a sewage and toxic-waste dump 2 Harlem, Manhattan 90% of the city’s bus depots are there, spewing diesel fumes and soot and causing high asthma rates 3 Astoria, Queens Chemical waste 4 1125–1139 Irving
Avenue, Bushwick, Brooklyn High levels of radiation thanks to its connection to the Manhattan Project 5 59-44 Summerfield Street, Ridgewood, Queens Once used as a factory to make mercury thermometers
Is Bushwick poisoning us? Great news for those of us living in Bushwick: According to Metro, a local daily tabloid, two of the five most toxic places in New York City are right in our own neighborhood. One, 1125–1139 Irving Avenue, has high levels of radiation thanks to its connection with the Manhattan Project—you know, the people who developed the atomic bomb. The other, 59-44 Summerfield Street, was used as a factory to make mercury thermometers from around 1900 to the 1950s. (Okay, so that second one is technically in Ridgewood, Queens, but close enough.)
Presidential limo shows support for D.C. voting rights In a show of solidarity with Washington, D.C., residents seeking full voting representation in Congress—which we fully support (see Dialann 6.18–20)—U.S. President Barack Obama put District of Columbia license plates with the slogan taxation without representation on the presidential limo in time for his second inauguration and parade on 20 January. “President Obama has lived in the District now for four years, and has seen first-hand how patently unfair it is for working families in D.C. to work hard, raise children and pay taxes, without having a vote in Congress,” White House spokesman Keith Maley said in a statement reported by Politico. “Attaching these plates to the presidential vehicles demonstrates the President’s commitment to the principle of full representation for the people of the District of Columbia and his willingness to fight for voting rights, Home Rule and budget autonomy for the District.” The White House plans to use the plates with the slogan for the duration of Mr. Obama’s second term.
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The obverse and reverse of Canada’s one-cent piece.
Canada begins withdrawing the penny from circulation The Royal Canadian Mint stopped distributing one-cent pieces—also called the penny, like its American counterpart—on 4 February 2012. The Canadian federal government decided to end production and circulation of the coins as the cost to produce them exceeded their value. Canada previously ended circulation of $1 and $2 bills, replacing both with coins. With the phaseout of the penny, transactions in Canada will now be rounded to the nearest five cents. The United States has likewise debated phasing out pennies and $1 bills. Attempts to fully replace the bills with coins have never gotten much traction for a variety of reasons. In the case of the penny, Americans claim that they like the tradition of them—a claim we find dubious both because of how frequently they end up on the ground (they are pretty much worthless these days, with the metal in them worth more than the coin itself ) and because Americans seem to care very little about the rest of the physical environment. Exhibit A: the vast expanses of the historical fabric of our cities left vacant, and then demolished to make room for surface parking lots. But we digress.
CANADIAN PENNY: IMAGES FROM WIKIPEDIA BUSHWICK: PHOTO TAKEN 17 MAY 2013 BY DUSTIN
HERE & THERE
Mississippi finally abolishes slavery JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI | 7 FEBRUARY 2013
LONDON UNDERGROUND: PHOTO TAKEN 14 SEPTEMBER 2012 BY ANDRÉ ZEHETBAUER, CC BY-SA 2.0 FLICKR.COM/PHOTOS/AZ1172/7991519653
Nearly 150 years after the end of the Civil War, Charles A. Barth, director of the Office of the Federal Register, wrote that he had received notification from Mississippi’s secretary of state, Delbert Hosemann, that the state’s legislature voted in 1995 to ratify the 13th Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, which abolished slavery. The process to make the ratification official was started by the unlikely pair of Dr. Ranjan Batra, an immigrant from India who is a professor of neurobiology and anatomical sciences at the University of Mississippi Medical Center, and his colleague, Mississippi native Ken Sullivan. But as Seth Meyers and Kevin Hart put it on the 2 March 2013 episode of Saturday Night Live, “We don’t mean to be hard on you, Mississippi, but you just ratified the amendment abolishing slavery two weeks ago. Not only did Mississippi wait 150 years after Lincoln, they waited six months after Lincoln the movie. I mean, really?”
Pentagon lifts ban on women in combat WASHINGTON, D.C. | 24 JANUARY 2013
Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta announced that the military was rescinding its nearly 20-year-old ban on women being assigned to official combat roles—a change the editors of this magazine welcome. But now we wonder: when will women be required to register for Selective Service? Or better yet, when will the country get rid of Selective Service altogether? All of which leads to another question: when will the country lower the drinking age to 18, or raise the age for registration in the Selective Service to 21? After all, even teetotalling Mormons such as us have to think that if you’re old enough to serve in the military—get drafted, be assigned a weapon, drive tanks and pilot fighter planes, and possibly die for your country—then surely you’re old enough to decide for yourself whether you’ll drink.
London Underground celebrates 150th anniversary
On 10 January 1863, Londoners began using a form of transportation that would not only transform cities around the world but become a part of our family’s everyday life: underground trains. Trains carried 38,000 passengers that day on a route between Paddington and Farringdon, now part of the Circle and Hammersmith & City lines. The world’s oldest subway is also one of its most extensive and heavily used, with 249 miles (402 kilometers) of lines serving 270 stations and carrying over 1 billion passengers a year. It is also one of the world’s most iconic: its “roundel” logo, introduced in 1908, is as much a symbol of London as of the Tube itself, and its map, based on Harry Beck’s original 1931 design, is recognized the world over and has inspired countless imitations.
Temples update AS OF 30 APRIL 2013
Operating 141 Under construction 13 Announced 16 Announced 6 APRIL 2013
Cedar City Utah Rio de Janeiro Brazil Dedicated Tegucigalpa Honduras 17 MARCH 2013
TEGUCIGALPA HONDURAS TEMPLE: PHOTO COURTESY THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS MORMONNEWSROOM.ORG
Meteor over Russia CHELYABINSK, RUSSIA | 15 FEBRUARY 2013
Over 1,000 people were injured when a meteor, entering the atmosphere at 34,000 miles per hour (54,000 kilometers per hour), exploded 25 to 30 kilometers (16 to 19 miles) above this city some 930 miles (1,500 kilometers) east of Moscow. Most of the injuries were the result of broken glass from windows knocked out by the shockwave.
9
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STORIES
IRWIN WILBURMEIER KING OF DINGLE HOLLOW NATIONAL PARK
By SUSAN in collaboration with MARTIN and ELLEN APRIL 2013
rwin collapsed between the gnarled black roots of the ancient oak tree. He peered up, up into the green leaves at the golden sun. All around him were enormous trees, their leaves rustling in the chill wind. He analyzed his plight. He was hopelessly lost. Irwin started to shiver. “I’ll get back,” he said, trying to cheer himself up but failing miserably. “I know they’ll find me. They’re probably looking already. I’ll only be here a few minutes.” It had been a calm and pleasant Saturday morning when he and his family had set out on a nature hike in Dingle Hollow National Park. As the Wilburmeier family came over a rise, they all gasped at the sight of a beautiful meadow, filled with colorful flowers and sparkling with morning dew. “Kids,” suggested Mrs. Wilburmeier, “why don’t we all pick some of those pretty flowers for poor bedridden Auntie Esmerelda? We’ll take them to her at the home. Ever since the accident she’s been pretty depressed.” Happily the two children ran down the hill and began plucking daisies and Queen Anne’s lace. Soon Irwin was across the field. He didn’t notice, or perhaps he just wasn’t listening, when his sister Marge called him. When he reached the forest at the edge of the field, he turned around and started back. The Wilburmeiers were gone. Irwin didn’t panic. He prided himself on his calmness and collectedness, so he methodically assessed his situation, calculated a number of options, and broke into a cold sweat and started screaming pathetically. In a quick three minutes, though, he was completely hoarse. He knew he would get even more nervous if he didn’t do something, so he ran down the trail after his family. Soon, though, he came to a fork. Of course he had no idea which way to go, so he did eeny meeny minie mo and went left. Now, collapsed in the roots of the enormous oak, Irwin wished he had gone right. When he didn’t find his family in a few hours he thought he could cut straight across the forest and would soon find the other trail. Irwin jumped up, ran a few minutes, and realized it was hopeless. If he was going to survive in this wild wilderness, he would have to do it on his own. Irwin had always dreamed of being a mountain man. Now was his chance! He would have to make camp before dark, and he would also need enough food to last through a severe winter storm. He glanced up at the sun. Only seventeen minutes past one. “I’ve got a couple of hours before nightfall.” “Hmmm,” he mused, “Maybe I have ILLUSTRATION CREATED FROM PHOTO ON WIKIPEDIA, CC BY-SA 3.0 EN.W IKIPEDIA.ORG/WIKI/FILE:QUERCUS_ROBUR.JPG
something useful in my pockets. Mountain men and adventurers always do.” His supplies consisted of a piece of string, several paper clips, a quarter, a dime, three pennies, a pencil stub, a bottle cap, and a rubber band. “Wall, les’ see here. This bottlecap, I dunno what that’s useful for, but it sure won’t cut down trees for my lean-to. I can make fishhooks out of these paperclips and string. Now this here money, I don’t see any trading posts round about this neck of the woods.” Irwin hunkered down on a rock. “The most important thing about a mountain man is his name. Now I don’t think Irwin Wilburmeier is quite rugged enough. Let’s see...” So then he thought to himself, “Wild” Irwin Wilburmeier? Naw, that just won’t cut it. Dawg Tooth Irwin? Nah. Irwin “Lockjaw” Wilburmeier? Maybe Wilderness Irwin. No… wait… it’s coming… “King of Dingle Hollow National Park”! “Yes! That’s it!” Irwin leapt mightily atop his rock and shouted for all the world to hear, “Look out wilderness! I’m Irwin Wilburmeier, King of Dingle Hollow National Park, and don’t you forget it!” Irwin knew that the second most important thing to a mountain man was his coonskin cap. There didn’t seem to be any coons readily available, so he concluded that he could construct a reasonable facsimile of tough, rugged tree bark. He pulled some off the nearest tree and set to work. Unfortunately, he wasn’t exactly sure what a coon looked like, let alone a cap made out of one. In the end he just stuck it together with some mud and slapped it on his head. Now that Irwin was really a mountain man, he had to build a lean-to. I’d better build it on high ground in case of a flash flood, he thought. After a suitable hill was found, and a large tree chosen, Irwin began to collect branches for his lean-to. Soon he discovered that all the good hemlock boughs were still on the tree. He had no cutting tools so he had to gather twigs. He was beginning to think he had enough when, under a pine tree, he discovered a few small indentations in the dirt. “Wolf tracks,” he muttered. “Look fresh, too.” Quickly Irwin headed back to camp. “I better make camp soon. I’ll need a fire to keep the wolves away.” Soon, however, Irwin decided that lean-tos were for sissies. Besides, he wasn’t sure how to make one. So he’d sleep out under the stars. Observing proper care with his fire, he made a ring of rocks and built the required teepee of kindling. Banging two stones together to make a spark, he found out, was not as easy as he’d previously thought. He resorted to a slightly less efficient method of rubbing two sticks together. Just when he was starting to get discouraged, he remembered that most genuine mountain men ate their food raw, hot off the carcass instead of
hot off the grill. He also recalled from the depths of his shallow memory that a true mountain man fends off wolves with a gun or knife, if bandits have made off with his trusty flint. In extreme conditions, the mountain man would be forced to protect himself with his bare hands. Shortly afterwards, Irwin attempted a snare for the purpose of obtaining sustenance, as he was fearful the monstrous growls of his stomach would attract unwanted pests. This occupied his time for several minutes, and as the task progressed, an onlooker might have likened it to the coonskin cap episode. The snare ended up looking like a hurricane had caused the paths of a logging camp and a string factory to collide, possibly causing death and destruction to overthrow a forest filled with weak-hearted rabbits. Unfortunately, this was not the case, and the trap caught no edible animal in the time Irwin devoted to it. While inspecting his trap line, Irwin heard voices coming up the hill. “Oh, no,” he gasped, “Injuns! Probably a Blackfoot war party.” He armed himself with a rubber band and slowly, stealthily, crept over the rise. The band of savages, shouting guttural noises unfamiliar to The King, used the disorderly battle tactics so typical of the Blackfoot tribe. They wove back and forth on the trail, bellowing what sounded like, “Irwin, where are you?” and, “Irwin, you big galoot, I was happy when you disappeared, but then Mom said it was against the law to leave you here,” and, “Irwin! Irwin, sweetie, I never meant what I said about the way you screech when you see spiders! You know I didn’t, don’t you, dear?” Irwin loaded and cocked his weapon, then fired. With a resounding TWANG he nailed Marge in the side of the head. “Irwin! You’ve really done it this time! Why I think I’ll…” “George! George, what’s that on his head? It’s attacking him, get it off, get it off!” “Mom. That’s a coonskin cap. You’re just lucky I fired when I did, the wolves were right on your backs. Besides, I’m not just Irwin anymore, I’m Irwin Wilburmeier, King of Dingle Hollow National Park,” exclaimed Irwin, leaping mightily atop his rock once again. “I think he hit his head again, Vera. We better get him to the hospital quick. You know what happened the last time he did this.” “Didn’t the doctors say he might have to be institutionalized?” asked Marge. “Yup, they did. Better get him to the hospital right away.” Mrs. Wilburmeier paused for a moment, then smiled and said, “On second thought… Irwin, why don’t you go pick some more flowers for Auntie Esmerelda? I think you’ll be visiting her soon,” said Mr. Wilburmeier. d
Susan wrote this story with her brother, Martin, and her sister Ellen. Susan was a freshman in high school at the time. Stories is a new section of our magazine. It will appear from time to time with stories, ususally fictional, written by a member of our family (most likely Susan). 11
Dustin (far right, in case you can’t tell) with the other pages who served that week with then-governor James B. Hunt in his office in the North Carolina State Capitol. The governor took a moment to speak with the pages during our brief meeting with him. I mentioned that that year a teacher of mine discovered in class that a student had brought a knife to school, but the teacher didn’t do anything about it. He basically said, “That’s bad,” and moved on. Which is a demonstration of both the way government works and what students got away with in a pre-Columbine world.
12
My week as a governor’s page
I
’ve always been fascinated with the inner workings of government. I spent untold hours poring over the text of the Constitution in a set of encyclopedias my family had when I was younger. But reading a constitution wasn’t enough—I wanted to write my own. I made my brother sit down with me during summer break in a constitutional convention for a country I made up. (He’s my younger brother, so I could boss him around and make him do stuff like that back then.) This happened at an age far older than I’m will to admit here. Fast forward (a little) to my freshman year in high school, when I heard about the opportunity to be a page for the governor of my home state, North Carolina. I jumped at the chance and served for a week in May 1997 in the governor’s press office, right in the state capitol building. I mostly reviewed news clippings that mentioned the governor and ran errands to other state offices and agencies. So, yeah, I was basically a gofer. But it was still a cool experience, especially when I got to walk past the sign that read authorized personnel only on the way to the governor’s office. It was my first experience working in an office environment, which meant it was my first experience with concepts such as a lunch break. I spent much of my lunch breaks wandering up and down the Fayetteville Street Mall, a 1970s-era open-air pedestrian mall that led south from the Capitol to the Memorial Auditorium. I felt so grown up and sophisticated and urban (though, in hindsight, I was none of those things). It was on the Fayetteville Street Mall that I had one of my first experiences with crazy homeless people. While I was on a lunch break, a man walked up to me and offered his hand to shake mine. I wasn’t experienced enough to turn him down, so I obliged. I don’t remember what he said to me, but at the end of our exchange he took his left hand and moved it across my hand that was shaking his. It was then that I noticed a mysterious yellow packet in his left hand. I’ve always wondered what that was all about, but I haven’t gotten sick or died from it, so I guess it was harmless enough. The director of the Governor’s Page Program arranged various government-related
activities for us throughout the week. We toured government buildings, including the Supreme Court and the State Legislative Building, where North Carolina’s legislature, the General Assembly, meets (it moved out of the Capitol in 1963). On another occasion, the coordinator arranged for us to sit in the gallery in one of the chambers while it was in session. I was appalled to see that state legislators apparently spend most of their time wishing happy birthday to various family members who weren’t even in the room. My one social activity that week was going to Crabtree Valley Mall with a few of the female pages one evening. That it was a 4 or 5:1 ratio of women to men—I was the only guy along on the outing—made me feel like I was quite the lady’s man (though, in hindsight, I certainly was not). I stayed that week with the Joyners, who had volunteered to welcome pages into their home on a regular basis. They had pet ducks that had been given to them as a housewarming gift, which I thought was pretty cool. My first night in their home, they had guests over for dinner, including Mitchell Lewis, whom I recognized because he presented the news summary on North Carolina Now, a nightly newsmagazine on UNC-TV, North Carolina’s publictelevision network. I was paid $100—my first paycheck ever—for my service as a page, which I promptly turned over to my mother to defray the $85 cost for staying in the Joyners’ home. Oh, and I got this certificate, mostly notable for the fact that the governor’s name is bigger than mine— which, I suppose, is a good demonstration of how government really works. d
By DUSTIN
Raleigh 26–30 May 1997 My service as a page for North Carolina’s governor was my first insight into how government really works.
13
OUR TIMES By DUSTIN
Habemus papam Rome 13 March 2013 Following Benedict XVI’s groundbreaking resignation, the archbishop of Buenos Aires was elected the 266th pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church and immediately began to put his mark on the office.
White smoke rises from a chimney over the Sistine Chapel at 19.06 Rome time on 13 March, indicating to those gathered in Saint Peter’s Square and to the world that a new pope had been chosen.
APRIL 2013
J
orge Mario Bergoglio, elected bishop of Rome and therefore leader of the world’s 1.2 billion Roman Catholics, is a man of firsts. He is the first pope from the Americas, and the first non-European pope in nearly 1,300 years. He is the first to succeed a resigning pope, Benedict XVI, since Martin V succeeded Gregory XII after the latter’s resignation in 1415. He is the first Jesuit pope. He is the first pontiff elected during Fiona’s lifetime. And he is the first to take on his chosen papal name: Francis.1 The white smoke rising from a chimney over the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican at 19.06 Rome time on 13 March indicated to the thousands gathered in Saint Peter’s Square that the papal conclave had chosen a new pope. Francis immediately began to set the tone for his papacy, one of humility and simplicity, and less formality than those of his predecessors on the throne of Saint Peter. Indeed, he shunned the papal throne while accepting the conclave cardinals’ congratulations following his election, receiving them while standing. He endeared himself to Catholics and nonbelievers alike when, after his election, he took the bus back to the Domus Sanctæ Marthæ (Saint Martha’s House)—the Vatican guest house, where the cardinals stayed during the conclave—with the other cardinals, rather than being driven in the papal car. At the guest house he insisted on paying the bill for his room. He has now chosen to live in the Domus Sanctæ Marthæ, rather than the official papal residence in the Apostolic Palace.
His ministry throughout his life has been marked by humility and a commitment to serving the poor. Francis, elected pope at age 76, was born 17 December 1936 in Buenos Aires. Though Francis is considered the first nonEuropean pope since Gregory III, who reigned from 731 to 741, his father was an Italian immigrant while his mother was born in Argentina of Italian parents. Prior to his selection as the 266th pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church, he served as archbishop of Buenos Aires. He was named a cardinal on 21 February 2001 by John Paul II. As an Argentinian, he speaks Spanish natively, but he is also conversant in Latin, Italian, German, French, Portuguese, English, Ukrainian, and Piedmontese. Francis’s predecessor, Benedict XVI, surprised the world when on 11 February he announced his resignation, effective 28 February. Prior to his election as pontiff, Benedict had served as prefect of the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, which defends—and shapes—Catholic doctrine. The question of whether a pope could resign his office had swirled around the Catholic Church for several years, particularly toward the end of the papacy of Benedict’s predecessor, John Paul II, whose declining health caused many to wonder whether he could continue to fulfill his demanding duties. When his own health began to deteriorate, Benedict chose to affirm by example that, yes, a pope can resign. He is now the pope emeritus. Following Benedict’s resignation, the College of Cardinals gathered in Rome for the papal conclave. The word “conclave” comes from the Latin cum clave, meaning “with a key,” a reference to the idea that the cardinals are to be locked in a room until they choose a new pope. While the cardinals are no longer locked in a room until they make their choice, they are to be secluded from the world: the Domus Sanctæ Marthæ disconnected television, internet, and phone access during their stay. A total of 115 cardinals gathered for the conclave, which PHOTO TAKEN 13 MARCH 2013 BY CATHOLIC CHURCH (ENGLAND AND WALES), CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 FLICKR.COM/PHOTOS/CATHOLICISM/8555111475
commenced 12 March. Since 1970, cardinals must be younger than 80 to be eligible to participate. The voting is by secret ballot: each cardinal writes his choice on a piece of paper, disguising his handwriting, folds it into fourths, and drops it into a chalice. After the votes are read and tallied, they are burned with a powder intended to turn the smoke black, meaning no person has yet received the two-thirds majority needed to become pope, or white, indicating that a pope has been elected. While any baptized Catholic male may become pope, since 1389 the members of the conclave have always elected a fellow cardinal. Speculation as to who would be chosen was rife: online betting sites were even accepting wagers on which of the papabili (an Italian word for those cardinals most likely to be elected pope; it roughly translates to “pope-able” in English) would be elected, with many betting on a nonEuropean pontiff. After five rounds of voting, Francis was chosen. (No word on how much was won or lost in wagers.) After his election, many news outlets referred to the new pope as Francis I. But Vatican spokesman Federico Lombardi clarified that the new pontiff would be called simply Pope Francis: “It will become Francis I after we have a Francis II,” he said. d PHOTO TAKEN 13 MARCH 2013 BY CATHOLIC CHURCH (ENGLAND AND WALES), CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 FLICKR.COM/PHOTOS/CATHOLICISM/8555989110
Francis appears on the balcony of Saint Peter’s Basilica for the first time as pope. NOTE 1. According to Wikipedia, it is, in fact, the “first time since Pope Lando’s 913–914 reign that a serving pope held a name not used by a predecessor” (en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Pope_Francis). SOURCES Portions of text were adapted from the Wikipedia article on Pope Francis, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Pope_Francis, CC BY-SA 3.0. Article on previous non-European popes by Max Fisher at The Washington Post: washingtonpost. com/blogs/worldviews/ wp/2013/03/13/sorry-jorge-mariobergoglio-is-not-the-first-noneuropean-pope Reference to Francis paying his hotel bill: reuters.com/ article/2013/03/16/us-pope-pooridUSBRE92F05P20130316 Eligibility to become pope: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Papal_ conclave,_2013 Research conducted 12–13 June 2013
Pope Francis’s coat of arms.
First Presidency statement The First Presidency offered this statement following Francis’s election. On behalf of the leadership and members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we extend our warmest wishes to His Holiness Pope Francis and pray he will feel the peace of the Lord as he serves as pontiff of the Catholic Church. We have been honored and pleased as our two faiths have worked together on issues of faith, morality and service to the poor and needy. We value the relationships that have been formed in these joint efforts and are grateful for the good that has been accomplished. We look forward to pursuing together, as the Apostle Paul wrote, all things that are true, honest, just, pure, lovely and of good report (see Philippians 4:8).
15
WE BELIEVE IN CHRIST By DUSTIN
Zion is more than a physical place. It is a spiritual state, which means it can be established anywhere—even here in New York City.
This is based upon a talk Dustin gave in the sacrament meeting of the Bushwick 1st Branch on 17 February 2013. APRIL 2013
Establishing—and becoming—Zion
A
rticle I, Section 2 of the Constitution of the United States requires that a census be taken once a decade. The primary reason for this is to determine how many representatives each state should receive in Congress, but the Census also provides lots of other interesting information. Through the Census, we can trace the way our country has grown and changed over the last 220 years since the first enumeration was made in 1790. But in those two centuries, one thing has always remained the same: New York City has always been the biggest city in the United States. Today, with 8,175,133 people, it is over twice the size of the next biggest city, Los Angeles.1 Way back in 1810, New York weighed in with 96,373 people, which made it nearly twice as large as the next biggest city, Philadelphia.2 The city’s northern border was around Houston Street. (Remember that Brooklyn was a separate city back then.) Virtually everything north of Houston was farmland and wilderness filled with forests, creeks, and wild animals. Even though New York City was a relatively small city—London, by contrast, had over a million people in 18103—almost on the edge of the wilderness in a very young country, its business and political leaders had big dreams. Just as Americans believed their country’s “manifest destiny” was to fill North America from the Atlantic to the Pacific, so New Yorkers believed their city’s manifest destiny was to fill Manhattan Island from the Battery to the Harlem River. So in 1811 New York adopted a plan called the Commissioners’ Plan. It ignored Manhattan’s topography—its hills, creeks, and ponds—and laid out a system of streets, a grid. “Avenues” ran north to south, starting with 1st Avenue by the East River and continuing across the island to 12th Avenue by the North River, or the Hudson River as we call it today. “Streets” ran from river to river, starting with 1st Street near Houston and Christie streets and continuing today to 220th Street (in The Bronx it continues all the way to 263rd Street). It allowed for virtually unimpeded growth as the city marched northward—and it allowed landowners and businessmen to make lots of money. New York was not the first or only American
city to follow such a plan. Indeed, the idea that the physical form of a city says something about that city and the country as a whole is recurrent throughout American history. In 1681, William Penn, a Quaker who himself had felt the bitter sting of persecution, founded a “city of brotherly love” where all people could worship as they wished. It was to be a “city on a hill”4—not a physical hill, but a reflection of Jesus Christ’s teaching in the Sermon on the Mount.5 He laid out this city, Philadelphia,6 on a grid that spanned land from the Delaware River to the Schuylkill River. Among the features of this grid were four squares, today called Franklin, Logan, Rittenhouse, and Washington, that were to serve as public parks for all the city’s residents. In the statehouse constructed next to Washington Square, a group of men met in 1776 and founded a new country. A decade later some of those same men, joined by others, again met in that same building near Washington Square, now called Independence Hall, and wrote a constitution that established a new government for that nation. Article I, Section 8 of this Constitution established a special federal district as the national capital. In the 1790s, George Washington commissioned Pierre Charles L’Enfant to create a plan for the capital city, which consisted of a street grid overlaid by diagonal avenues named for the states. At the very center of this city was the People’s House, the Capitol, where Congress—the representatives of the people (or the people who could vote, which at the time was white men who owned land)—created the laws that governed the nation. Susan, Fiona, and I lived in Washington, D.C., before we moved to Brooklyn. Our address was 2480 16th Street Northwest, which meant we lived about 25 blocks north and 16 blocks west of the Capitol. If business and moneymaking were central to New York, government was the center, literally, of Washington. Each of these cities was similar in form, and these designs represented what their founders believed was an ideal model for a city in the New World. America, after all, was a democracy, unlike European monarchies, and American cities used orderly street grids, unlike the cities of Europe.7
These very American ideas about city planning made their way into the efforts of the early members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Under the direction of the Prophet Joseph Smith, converts to the Church gathered together in one place to build Zion. The Prophet and his associates even created a plan for what that city should look like. The plan was called the Plat of the City of Zion, and it specified that the streets of Zion should form a grid with perfectly square blocks and, at the center of the city, a space was set aside for the temple. These first gathering spots were literal physical places, first in Kirtland, Ohio, near modern-day Cleveland; then Jackson County, Missouri, near present-day Kansas City; and then Nauvoo, Illinois, on the Mississippi River. Healing in Nauvoo When Latter-day Saints started gathering in summer 1839 to build Zion in Illinois, Nauvoo was still a swamp swarming with mosquitos. These mosquitos spread malaria, or “the ague” as they called it then. The Prophet Joseph Smith himself became very ill. But on the morning of 22 July, he arose, filled with the Spirit of God, and began administering to the sick with the members of the Quorum of the Twelve. From Nauvoo they went across the Mississippi River to Montrose, Iowa. There they found a man named Elijah Fordham, bedridden and unable to speak. Wilford Woodruff, who later became president of the Church, recorded what he saw: Brother Joseph walked up to Brother Fordham, and took him by the right hand. … He saw that Brother Fordham’s eyes were glazed, and that he was speechless and unconscious. After taking hold of his hand, he looked down into the dying man’s face and said: “Brother Fordham, do you not know me?” At first he made no reply; but we could all see the effect of the Spirit of God resting upon him. He again said: “Elijah, do you not know me?” With a low whisper, Brother Fordham answered, “Yes!” The Prophet then said, “Have you not faith to be healed?” The answer … was: “I am afraid it is too late. If you had come sooner, I think it might have been.” He had the appearance of a man waking from sleep. It was the sleep of death. Joseph then said: “Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ?” “I do, Brother Joseph,” was the MAP: LIBRARY OF CONGRESS GEOGRAPHY AND MAP DIVISION G3804N CT000812 HTTP://HDL.LOC.GOV/LOC.GMD/G3804N.CT000812
William Bridges’s map of Manhattan’s future, 1814. This map is a copy of cartographer and surveyor John Randel’s map of the Commissioners’ Plan of 1811. Paul Knight at The Great American Grid blog explains why a copy was needed: “The completion of this monumental work [of surveying Manhattan] was no easy task. Surveying an area of 34 square miles would prove difficult enough, but doing so under the threatening eyes of local property owners who did not agree with the survey made it especially hard. For four years Randel and his team experienced a kind of guerrilla warfare as locals ripped up their survey markers and even threw cabbages in protest. But the work was eventually completed and the grand project moved forward. “[This] map …, however, is not Randel’s plan. It is actually a copy of his work produced by William Bridges in 1814. While Randel was temporarily out of town, Bridges convinced the Common Council to allow him to produce an engraving for dissemination to the public. Randel was not pleased. He accused Bridges of stealing his work, not giving due credit (Randel’s name does not appear anywhere on Bridges’s map), and deceiving the Council. A modern reading of this historical exchange makes it sound like Bridges stole Randel’s work even though technically it was public record. In any case, the Bridges map is a beautiful portrayal of Manhattan’s future.”13
17
A depiction of William Penn’s 1682 plan for Philadelphia. In this plan you can see the four squares, which are (clockwise from upper left) Logan, Franklin, Washington, and Rittenhouse. The central square, at the intersection of Broad and High (today Market) streets, was intended for public buildings. Appropriately, today the central square is the location of Philadelphia’s grand city hall, which is the largest and tallest municipal building in the United States.14
response. Then the Prophet of God spoke with a loud voice, as in the majesty of the Godhead: “Elijah, I command you, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, to arise and be made whole!” The words of the Prophet were not like the words of man, but like the voice of God. It seemed to me that the house shook from its foundation. Elijah Fordham leaped from his bed like a man raised from the dead. A healthy color came to his face, and life was manifested in every act. As the early Latter-day Saints exercised their faith in following God’s command through a prophet to build the City of Zion, they were blessed.8
You can see an artist’s bird’s-eye depiction of Salt Lake City in 1875 on the front cover of this issue, and you’ll find an image of Pierre Charles L’Enfant’s plan for Washington, D.C., on the back cover. 18
Carried through icy waters Eventually the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were killed and the Latter-day Saints were driven from Nauvoo. Under the direction of Brigham Young they trekked across the Great Plains to the Salt Lake Valley in the Rocky Mountains to establish Zion there and throughout Utah and the West. They followed the Prophet Joseph Smith’s Plat of the City of Zion and laid out perfectly square, ten-acre blocks, 660 feet on one side. And, as in Nauvoo, the temple was at the very center of it. Even today, just like in Washington, D.C., where all addresses indicate their location
relative to the Capitol, every address in the Salt Lake Valley is according to its proximity to the Salt Lake Temple. For example, an address at 420 South 800 East means that it is about 4 blocks south and 8 blocks east of the Salt Lake Temple. The center of New York is money; the center of Washington, D.C., is government; and the center, physically and spiritually, of the City of Zion is the temple and the covenants we make there. In other words, the center of Zion is the gospel of Jesus Christ. Over the next two decades, thousands of Latter-day Saints from across the United States and Europe gathered to Zion. Many walked with handcart companies. One of these, the Martin Handcart Company, embarked on its journey across the Great Plains late in the season in 1856, almost a decade after the first Latter-day Saints settled in the Salt Lake Valley. While crossing Wyoming, they ran into snow and bitter cold. Daily they had to bury members of their company who had died. On 5 October, a Sunday, the sabbath, Brigham Young spoke to members gathered for general conference after he learned of the Martin Company’s situation. He said: The text will be, “to get them here.” … I shall call upon the Bishops this day [remember it was a Sunday, and general conference was about to begin], I shall not wait until to-morrow, nor until next day, for 60 good mule teams and 12 or 15 wagons. … I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will MAP: TEBEAU304.CLEVELANDHISTORY.ORG/2011/09/15/LENFANTS-WASHINGTON-BIRDS-EYE-VIEWS/
never save one soul of you in the celestial kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains.9 Because of the weather, it took the relief parties some time to find the handcart company stranded in the snow and ice in Wyoming. In another October general conference, this one 125 years later in 1981, President Gordon B. Hinckley described what happened next. When the first rescue team reached the Martin Company, there were too few wagons to carry the suffering people. The rescuers had to insist that the carts keep moving. When they reached the Sweetwater River on November 3, chunks of ice were floating in the freezing water. After all these people had been through, and in their weakened condition, that river seemed impossible to cross. It looked like stepping into death itself to move into the freezing stream. Men who once had been strong sat on the frozen ground and wept, as did the women and children. Many simply could not face that ordeal. And now I quote from the record: “Three eighteen-year-old boys belonging to the relief party came to the rescue, and to the astonishment of all who saw, carried nearly every member of the ill-fated handcart company across the snowbound stream. The strain was so terrible, and the exposure so great, that in later years all the boys died from the effects of it. When President Brigham Young heard of this heroic act, he wept like a child, and later declared publicly, ‘that act alone will ensure C. Allen Huntington, George W. Grant, and David P. Kimball an everlasting salvation in the Celestial Kingdom of God, worlds without end.’”10 Zion is the pure in heart In the face of such hardship, why were early Church members so anxious to establish and come to Zion? Early in the history of our church we find that Zion is synonymous with an actual geographic location. But is that all that Zion is? In the Pearl of Great Price we read about another physical place, an ancient city also called Zion. Its leader was a very righteous man named Enoch. This city and its inhabitants were so righteous, we read, that “God received it up into his own bosom.”11 Zion was so good that God took the entire city up to heaven. For the Latter-day Saints, was there
Therefore, verily, thus saith the Lord, let Zion rejoice, for this is Zion—the pure in heart … DOCTRINE AND COVENANTS 97:21
something about streets laid out on a grid that would carry them to heaven? If so, they already had New York, Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, or countless other American cities they could gather to—and, to my knowledge, no American city has ever been lifted up into heaven. The answer to this question must be no. Was there something about these places they had gathered to? They suffered bitter persecution in Ohio. Missouri was a wild, outlaw frontier. Nauvoo, in Illinois, was a swamp. Utah was a desert wilderness. Was one of these places the portal to heaven? The answer clearly is no. The answer, I believe, lies in the fact that, in its truest sense, Zion is not actually a physical place. Then what is Zion? The Lord explained its true meaning in a revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith: Therefore, verily, thus saith the Lord, let Zion rejoice, for this is Zion—the pure in heart ….12 We can establish Zion here Since Zion is a spiritual state and not a physical place, it can be established anywhere the “pure in heart” are found. And who are the pure in heart? Quite simply, those who make and keep baptismal and temple covenants—those who, like the physical City of Zion, place Jesus Christ and his gospel at the center of their lives. Our branch, the Bushwick 1st Branch, lies at the very heart, the geographic center, of New York City. (I have read that it is at one of two possible locations: Broadway and DeKalb Avenue, or maybe on Stanhope Street between Wyckoff and St. Nicholas avenues. But it is within our branch’s boundaries.) As we, too, follow the example of our pioneer ancestors—and whether you have actual pioneer ancestors or not, we all share the heritage of pioneers—and as we make the temple, our covenants, and the gospel of Jesus Christ the center of our lives, we can have Zion here in the heart of New York City. And that is exactly what we all should strive to establish and to become. d
NOTES 1. United States Census Bureau, census.gov/history/www/through_ the_decades/fast_facts/2010_fast_ facts.html 2. United States Census Bureau, census.gov/history/www/through_ the_decades/fast_facts/1810_fast_ facts.html 3. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Demographics_of_London 4. See Matthew 5:14 5. Matthew 5–7 6. The city’s name in Greek is Φιλαδέλφεια, which is a compound of φίλος (philos, or “loving”) and ἀδελφός (adelphos, or “brother”). Source: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Philadelphia 7. Not entirely true, of course. A number of European cities use grids, some dating back to Roman times. Notable gridded cities in Europe include Turin, Barcelona, and Glasgow, among others. 8. Story and Wilford Woodruff’s words: Church History in the Fulness of Times Student Manual (2nd edition, 2003), pages 217–219 9. Church History in the Fulness of Times Student Manual (2nd edition, 2003), page 360 10. “Four B’s for Boys,” Ensign, November 1981 11. Moses 7:69 12. Doctrine and Covenants 97:21 13. thegreatamericangrid.com/ archives/2102 14. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philadelphia_ City_Hall
19
LAST LOOK
2 1 M AY 2 0 1 3 *
Our little girl grows up (but not too much yet) Susan, Fiona, and I were waiting for the bus a couple of blocks from Fiona’s school. Fiona looked lovely—and so grown up—that afternoon, and I snapped this photo with our phone. —dustin *We’re a little late in getting this issue done, so this date is a little anachronistic.
APRIL 2013
Early Latter-day Saints were called by the Prophet Joseph Smith to build literal Cities of Zion in Ohio, Missouri, and Illinois. The Prophet even provided a plan, the Plat of the City of Zion, based upon the idealized American urban form found in plans for cities such as Philadelphia, Washington, D.C., and New York. The Latter-day Saints carried the plat west, where they used it to plan hundreds of settlements, including Salt Lake City, with the temple at the center. But ultimately, Zion is not a place; it is a spiritual state centered on the gospel of Jesus Christ. SEE “ESTABLISHING—AND BECOMING—ZION,” PAGE 16
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