Mission Cities
After 13 weeks in the MTC (Missionary Training Center), towards the end of May in 1979 all of my visas came through and I was off to Belgium to begin serving my mission in earnest. We landed in Brussels and as we were walking through the airport an announcer said something in French and I remember thinking 'Uh oh, I'm in trouble. That's not what it sounded like in the MTC'.
We were met at the airport by President James Arrigona and his assistants who welcomed us and immediately took us to a hotel to sleep. Our flight had left New York in the evening and arrived in the morning Belgium time which was around midnight Utah time and we were exhausted.
After letting us sleep for around 6 hours we were awoken and went to the mission home have dinner, meet Sister Arrigona, and receive our assignments. Mine was Charleroi, Belgium and my "greenie-buster" was Doug Chronquist of Washington DC.
I spent 2 months there with Elder Cronkquist and 2 months with Len Schroath and then I was off to Verviers, Belgium as a District Leader and Jean-Claude Pletain, my only native French-speaking companion who was in his first city. We served together for 1 month. Then I received a 'greenie', a dark-haired music major who lived in Idaho and had studied at Ricks College (now BYU-I) whose name escapes me. Here my knee problems got worse as I was living through the coldest winter of my life in an apartment with 2 large rooms, tile floors, and probably 13-foot ceilings. It took forever for the heater to get the room reasonably warm. Then we'd go out into a cold Belgian winter on the outskirts of the area that made up the Battle of the Bulge. On P-days (preparation days) we sometimes went south to one of the battlefield areas and we actually saw unexploded ordinance still in the forest, and bullets still in trees that had not grown bark around the rounds. It was 35 years after that historic battle and it still wasn't all cleaned up.
After consulting with a doctor in Brussels about my knee I went back to the United States for a month for a minimally invasive exploratory knee operation. They were just starting to have MRI machines and arthroscopic surgery. This is what I underwent under the expert hand of Dr. Eagle and was informed that I had a torn medial meniscus that was bad enough to need surgery but would keep my off my mission for 90 days. They also said I could live with it.
At that time knee surgery consisted of a 'zipper', approximately a 12-inch parabola around the side of the knee being operated on; far different from today's arthroscopic approach. Because the surgery was so invasive it took much longer to recover. So I decided to live with it and flew back to Brussels where I was assigned as District Leader in a new city in the southern part of the mission, a place not so cold as southeastern Belgium - Epinal, France, in the Vosges mountains, where I met my next companion, Steve Neal from Idaho, who was also in his first city. Steve was a fantastic guy, one of the best I met in the mission. We were together for 2 months. I served an additional 2 months there with a 'greenie' whose name I've forgotten and then I was off to Calais, France.
I only stayed 2 months, one with Elder McDonald from Paradise, CA who was the district leader. These were 2 of the hardest months of my mission as we didn't teach a single discussion. My companion and I were Primary teachers on Sunday, but those were the only lessons we taught in 2 months! 50 hours/week of knocking on doors in the months of June and July 1980. The zone was called 'the Rock' because the people were so hardened. The zone leaders, with who we lived, told us that it was considered a compliment to be sent to 'the Rock'. I don't remember ever being complimented in such a way. My second month was as District Leader and then it was off, down the coast, to Boulogne-sur-mer, France.
BTW, on a cloudy day we could see the White Cliffs of Dover across the English Channel. We were so close that there were hourly ferries that shuttle people across the channel on Hovercrafts. On the French side they simply came over and landed on the sand, deflated the giant balloon it used to skip across the English Channel, and people and cars drove off.
In Boulogne we had a beach apartment across the street from where John Taylor dedicated France. It was common for French women to go topless and we had to walk by the beach every morning, afternoon and evening for 2 months in August and September. We learned to walk with our eyes straight ahead. Here I was once again District Leader with a 'greenie' of great faith from Ohio - Elder Cooley. He was a wonderful kid (by this time I was rapidly closing in on 22 and he was barely 19). We had the greatest successes of my mission in this city on 'the Rock' as we were privileged to baptize a find and baptize a family of 4 out in the English Channel. We had the option of using the pool at a casino on the beach or the English Channel and the family opted for the open water.
My next city was Lille where I met up with a previous companion Kay Wilson who I couldn't remember where I served with him - either Epinal or Calais. This time he was in the apartment as a Jr. Zone Leader and I once again served as District Leader. Sister missionaries were in the same apartment building several floors above ours and this is where I met Beatrice Paulvaiche for the first time. We parking our bikes in the area reserved for that purpose at the same time the sister missionaries were parking theirs with one of the ward missionaries. We had all come home for lunch.
There was an Italian girl in the ward who started to be a distraction. With my dark hair, dark complexion and name that sounded like Rome (she insisted I must be Italian and not Finnish) she started saying things to members that missionaries don't like to hear. In one of my weekly letters to the President I told him and after 3 months in Lille I was off to spend my last 2 months in Thionville, France.
My last city I again served as District Leader with a missionary who had just sent someone home. I was to be his second missionary serving in their last city. He still had a year to go, and the previous missionary had been quite 'trunky' a term we use to describe someone so distracted by going home that they lose focus on the being a missionary. I was determined to not be the second missionary like that for him. He was not happy with the first year of his mission and was determined to turn things around so with his determination to change, and mine to avoid being 'trunk' we agreed to forgo P-days for my last 2 months. Jesse met his son while working for Wells Fargo.
We worked extremely hard and were blessed with a baptism on the last day of my mission, February 14, 1981, my 22nd birthday. The next morning I was off to Brussels and home.
We were met at the airport by President James Arrigona and his assistants who welcomed us and immediately took us to a hotel to sleep. Our flight had left New York in the evening and arrived in the morning Belgium time which was around midnight Utah time and we were exhausted.
After letting us sleep for around 6 hours we were awoken and went to the mission home have dinner, meet Sister Arrigona, and receive our assignments. Mine was Charleroi, Belgium and my "greenie-buster" was Doug Chronquist of Washington DC.
I spent 2 months there with Elder Cronkquist and 2 months with Len Schroath and then I was off to Verviers, Belgium as a District Leader and Jean-Claude Pletain, my only native French-speaking companion who was in his first city. We served together for 1 month. Then I received a 'greenie', a dark-haired music major who lived in Idaho and had studied at Ricks College (now BYU-I) whose name escapes me. Here my knee problems got worse as I was living through the coldest winter of my life in an apartment with 2 large rooms, tile floors, and probably 13-foot ceilings. It took forever for the heater to get the room reasonably warm. Then we'd go out into a cold Belgian winter on the outskirts of the area that made up the Battle of the Bulge. On P-days (preparation days) we sometimes went south to one of the battlefield areas and we actually saw unexploded ordinance still in the forest, and bullets still in trees that had not grown bark around the rounds. It was 35 years after that historic battle and it still wasn't all cleaned up.
After consulting with a doctor in Brussels about my knee I went back to the United States for a month for a minimally invasive exploratory knee operation. They were just starting to have MRI machines and arthroscopic surgery. This is what I underwent under the expert hand of Dr. Eagle and was informed that I had a torn medial meniscus that was bad enough to need surgery but would keep my off my mission for 90 days. They also said I could live with it.
At that time knee surgery consisted of a 'zipper', approximately a 12-inch parabola around the side of the knee being operated on; far different from today's arthroscopic approach. Because the surgery was so invasive it took much longer to recover. So I decided to live with it and flew back to Brussels where I was assigned as District Leader in a new city in the southern part of the mission, a place not so cold as southeastern Belgium - Epinal, France, in the Vosges mountains, where I met my next companion, Steve Neal from Idaho, who was also in his first city. Steve was a fantastic guy, one of the best I met in the mission. We were together for 2 months. I served an additional 2 months there with a 'greenie' whose name I've forgotten and then I was off to Calais, France.
I only stayed 2 months, one with Elder McDonald from Paradise, CA who was the district leader. These were 2 of the hardest months of my mission as we didn't teach a single discussion. My companion and I were Primary teachers on Sunday, but those were the only lessons we taught in 2 months! 50 hours/week of knocking on doors in the months of June and July 1980. The zone was called 'the Rock' because the people were so hardened. The zone leaders, with who we lived, told us that it was considered a compliment to be sent to 'the Rock'. I don't remember ever being complimented in such a way. My second month was as District Leader and then it was off, down the coast, to Boulogne-sur-mer, France.
BTW, on a cloudy day we could see the White Cliffs of Dover across the English Channel. We were so close that there were hourly ferries that shuttle people across the channel on Hovercrafts. On the French side they simply came over and landed on the sand, deflated the giant balloon it used to skip across the English Channel, and people and cars drove off.
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| One of those Hovercraft in Dover, England. |
| We could also see England from here on cloudy days. |
There was an Italian girl in the ward who started to be a distraction. With my dark hair, dark complexion and name that sounded like Rome (she insisted I must be Italian and not Finnish) she started saying things to members that missionaries don't like to hear. In one of my weekly letters to the President I told him and after 3 months in Lille I was off to spend my last 2 months in Thionville, France.
| On the Belgian border. |
We worked extremely hard and were blessed with a baptism on the last day of my mission, February 14, 1981, my 22nd birthday. The next morning I was off to Brussels and home.
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| On the border with Luxembourg |
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