I remember the summer of 1963 and my seventh birthday because that's the year I broke my arm. 1964, though, has always been the favorite summer of my childhood. That was the year I turned eight, and was baptized.
I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints, better known as the Mormons. We believe in baptism by immersion, and that little children don't need to be baptized until they are accountable, or able to understand and choose between right and wrong.
My birthday is in August, so I was able to be baptized that month. It was such an exciting time for me. Earlier in the summer my second oldest cousin, Judy, got married. Her little sister, Tina, and I had been best friends since we were born. Judy thought it would be cute to have Tina and I be her flower girls, so Mom made me a beautiful peacock blue silk dress to match Tina's, and we were part of the wedding reception. I thought that dress was gorgeous! It was full of gathers at the waist, and when Tina and I twirled our skirts flew out all around us. I don't actually remember being in the wedding reception, but I fondly remember wearing that dress to my baptism.
The Sunday before my baptism I met with Bishop Brinton, the leader of our ward. I knew him well because Dad was his councilor, and he was also my friend, Ann's, father. I was still nervous to meet with him, though.
At my baptismal interview, Bishop Brinton first asked me if I wanted to be baptized, which was easy, of course I did. I knew that getting baptized meant that all of my sins would be washed away, and I was very happy about that. Not that I had been a bad girl, but I had a habit of not wanting to get in trouble, which caused me to not always tell the truth. Like the time I didn't want to admit I flushed the toilet at the cabin, dousing Dad with sewer water because he was down in the septic hole at the moment, trying to dig it deeper. I also had a hard time obeying. I always said yes, but I often didn't actually do what I was told to do. Like the time I thought Dad was just being silly telling us to wear a shirt while we played on the beach, and then I had such a bad sunburn I couldn't sleep for a week.
After talking about being forgiven for my sins, Bishop Brinton took a few moments to explain that baptism was more than just washing away sins. He told me it meant I was promising to take Jesus' name upon me, which meant I was promising to act like Jesus from then on. In return, I got to become part of His church and would be given the gift of the Holy Ghost, who would help remind me to be a true disciple of Jesus Christ. I assured Bishop that this was what I wanted to do.
Mesa was settled by Mormon pioneers, and when I was a child it was still predominantly LDS. There were so many members in town that it seemed there was a Mormon chapel on every corner. Not all chapels were built with baptismal fonts, though. Ours didn't have one, so for my baptism we drove across town to a chapel on the South side of Mesa, and I was baptized there.
All of my family came to see me get baptized, my cousins and grandparents as well as my brothers and sisters. Afterwards we all went downtown to Bob's Big Boy restaurant for dinner. That was another milestone in my life. Our family never went out to eat, it was way to expensive, but Mom and Dad made it a tradition to go to Big Boys to celebrate our baptism day. That was so much fun! Big Boys made special hamburgers with secret sauce (I finally figured out it was thousand island dressing, and boy was it yummy!), and we had french fries and a strawberry sundae for dessert. I still remember how good that food tasted! Since there were six children in our family we went to Big Boys six times, and each time Dad told us about how we were sitting in the exact same spot he used to milk cows at when he was a little boy. His family homesteaded the corner of Main Street and Alma School Road, and that is where Bob's Big Boy restaurant was built. That made it seem kind of like we belonged to that restaurant, though the land had been sold many years before.
It's funny how certain things can make such a difference in our lives. That was such a special summer to me that the numbers 8, 6, and 4 became my favorite numbers ever after. And if you were to ask me what my favorite year was, I would still automatically say, 1964.
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