I’m 75 and I would have thought by now that I would have discovered all there is to know about myself. Not so.
I have always thought I made my own success. Not so.
Let me tell you a story:
One day an old buddy of mine, whom I hadn’t seen in decades, since our CES and mission president days, met up with me at the Alta Club for lunch.
As we finished, he said, “Remember President Linford? You were one of his favorites.”
“What the hell did he mean by that statement?” I said to myself. “Is he ministering to me? Is he bagging on me for being critical of church policy?” (By this time I had become openly critical of the church’s policy re LGBT.)
I grew up in Long Beach California from 1952-1964. In1959, I was in ninth grade and had major surgery on my right foot.
After the surgery, on occasion, I would attend early morning seminary. My teacher was Raymond Linford, owner of a successful fumigation business, and bishop of the adjoining ward to mine.
He was about six feet tall. He was sturdy and muscular. He had receding strawberry red hair. His nose had been broken which gave him the appearance of a heavyweight boxer. (More on this later.) He was plain spoken, and had both a no nonsense personality, but an open and authentic quality with young people.
There were about twenty to twenty five of us in his class that started around 6:30 a.m.
Bishop Linford was well liked by the kids in the class. He knew who I was, because one time I asked him if what I was feeling while we read the Book of Mormon was a testimony of its truth. He didn’t say yes or no, he just listened sympathetically.
The next year he no longer taught seminary, because he was made the stake president. I didn’t have much contact with him for the next four years.
However, In my second year of college, he interviewed me to go on a mission. It was a pleasant interview. Nothing probing. Straight forward. Nothing syrupy, nothing shrill or high minded. Just down the line. I can remember him awkwardly shuffling my mission papers. He had thick, workman’s fingers. No pretense there. I remember being impressed by the sight. I guess he was about forty nine or fifty years old at this time.
After my mission, President Linford (PL) hired me to work on his crew to put up and take down the large tarps that covered homes being fumigated along the SoCal coastline. One day he fell off the roof while carrying a heavy tarp. He landed solidly on the ground and broke both his wrists. We had two trucks. His foreman and I got in one, he in the other, and we finished the day’s work before he drove himself to the hospital. He didn’t complain. I asked him if he was ok. He said, “no problem. I just broke my wrists.” He had two big bulges sticking out from the area of the wrists. Tough guy.
From the money I earned there I was able to court my fiancée and pay for her engagement ring.
About five months later, PL interviewed Cheri and me for our recommend to be married in the temple. The problem was Cheri had not yet completed a year of being a member of the church. Because of this, her stake president held up our wedding date. It was now only a month before the marriage. I called PL and told him our predicament. Within a few hours Cheri’s stake president called her and started cutting through the red tape. The marriage came off as planned.
By this time PL and I had started having a close relationship. He appointed me president of the Latter-day Saint Student Association for all the LDS students in that region, which encompassed six different campuses.
A year after that, PL arranged for me to be the early morning seminary teacher for the high school juniors and seniors who were members of our two wards.
Amazingly, there was a detached education annex built next door to the chapel, that served as the classrooms for early morning seminary, as well as the Institute of Religion for the college students attending California State University at Long Beach, which was less than a mile away.
When PL was the agent bishop he had the responsibility of making sure that chapel and annex were built.
It was convenient. Cheri and I had our wedding reception there. I taught early morning seminary there. Cheri and I attended the college ward there, and it was the Institute of Religion where I attended religion classes while attending CSULB.
I had PL’s daughter in my early morning seminary class. She was a thin, attractive, blond girl, not too tall. She had an attitude. She was very quick with one liners. She gave off every vibe she did not want to be in my class. One day to show her disgust with something I said, she gleeked (spit through her teeth giving off a shower effect) on the floor. I was shocked. I had never seen a girl gleek, and only a few guys, who were hoods. I just stood there, looked at her, and started laughing.
That broke the tension. The next morning she arrived early, sat in the front row, middle seat. From her example, the entire class rallied around me as a teacher.
To my surprise, she told her father I was the best seminary teacher she had ever ever had.
From that, PL started campaigning for me to become a full time seminary teacher. For some reason, as I went through the interview process I sensed not everyone was ready to give me a green light. But PL never let up. Eventually, I passed and taught full time released time seminary for two years in Magna Utah adjacent to Cyprus High School.
Then PL started campaigning for me to return to So Cal to teach college students at one of the institutes of religion. Again as I went through the interview process, I didn’t exactly feel that I was everyone’s favorite, but in the end, PL’s voice won out.
After a year, he called me to be on his high council. I was only twenty five, maybe at the most twenty six. That got some people in our stake riled up. After all, my past followed me. I was free spirited in high school and my first year of college. Plus, my parents were drinkers and entertainers in our home.
While this was going on, PL and another member of the church took over one of the dorms on campus. Cheri and I were asked by PL to be the dorm parents. We did that for two years, and with the money we earned we bought our very first home.
You would think I would have been grateful for all the opportunities and support PL gave me. No. In those days my assumption was I created my own opportunities. I was beholden to no one. But, of course I was wrong. It wasn’t until my buddy raised PL’s name to me that I gave much thought to it. I owe PL a lot. I want to thank him.
But, at age 61 he had a heart attack and died. I was about thirty years old at the time. He died playing basketball in the detached gymnasium he had built as agent bishop.
Obviously, we don’t make it on our own. That’s a fiction guys like myself need to learn over and over again and again.