Just Remember, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jesse worked hard at being a friend to the people in his village. He put up a strong, rope fence along the cliff, to keep Farmer Owen's sheep from falling over. He helped his neighbors in their gardens, and slowly he made friends with the other children in the village.

When he was ten years old Shiz came to visit, and he yelled, “Why are you are still living in this stinking little hut, all by yourself? Are you stupid, or what? Why haven't you gone to the caves to live with the robbers? They have all the food they need, and they would welcome you! If you ate meat every meal and drank their wine you would become the strongest robber of all!”

But when Emer came to visit he said, “Your majesty, you are getting bigger and more like your father every day.”

“Shiz says I would be the strongest robber if I lived with them and ate like them,” Jesse said.

“Do you want to be the strongest robber?”

Jesse thought for awhile, then said, “I would like to be big and strong, but I want to be a prince, not a robber.”

Emer smiled. “Well said, Your Majesty. You already are a prince, you always have been, and you act like one, too. I know you would like to have people look up to you and be your friends, but choose how you do that. Remember, love is the most powerful thing in the world. If you try to make people be your friends by being the strongest and the most powerful, in the end you won't have any friends at all. How do you suppose the King treats his subjects?”

“He loves them?” asked Jesse.

“Yes, and what does that mean?”

“He helps them, and does nice things for them?”

“Yes! Spoken like a true king!” Emer praised.

“But, what about being strong?” asked Jesse. “Is my father strong?”

“Very,” answered Emer. “But he doesn't get strong from eating lots of meat and drinking wine. If he did that, in the end it would make him weak.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You can poison your body with food and drink, you know.”

“Poison?” gasped the prince.

“Yes, poison. The King is very careful that he only puts good, wholesome things into his body.”

“Like what?” Jesse asked.

“Like vegetables and fruit and good breads and cereals. He eats meat, but not a lot of it, and he drinks plenty of good, clear water, but never wine or liquor. That is one of the worst poisons of all.”

“But I thought wine was made from grapes and fruit,” Jesse said.

“It is, but the good juice has been changed until it has turned into poison.”

“But poison will kill you!”

“Not always,” Emer said. “Sometimes it will just kill little parts of your brain. You won't die from it unless you get too much, but the part of your brain that warns you to be careful and helps you make good choices will be hurt.”

“Then why would anybody drink it?” Jesse wanted to know.

“Because when the poison kills part of their brain it also makes them feel good. It makes them forget their problems, and makes them feel smarter, or stronger, or braver than they really are. Anything that changes how you feel or think is dangerous, and you need to stay away from it. It may be poison.”

Jesse looked long and hard at Emer, trying to understand what he said. “How will I know what not to eat or drink?”

“You will know here,” Emer told him gently, patting him over his heart, “and here,” he added, touching his forehead with his finger. “You are a prince, the son of a king. If you listen to the little voice inside it will warn you what is poison.”

“There is something else you need to know,” Emer added. “Poisons that kill your brain aren't always just food or drink. There are other ways to put things inside your body.”

“Like Farmer Owen's pipe?” asked Jesse thoughtfully. “The smoke goes into his body.”

“Yes it does,” said Emer. “And it changes how he feels, which is why he does it. That is a kind of poison, too. But there are other poisons that get inside you without even coming through your mouth. Can you think of a way something gets in you without going through your mouth or nose?”

Jesse thought and thought, but he couldn't figure out what Emer was talking about. How could something get inside him without his eating or breathing it? What kind of poison could get into his mind to kill his brain? Then suddenly, he had the answer.

“When I see things they get into my brain,” he told Emer. “Can poison get inside me through my eyes?”

“Yes!” Emer beamed at the prince. “There are things we see, and then think about, that can poison our brain.”

“And we know they are poison because they change the way we think and feel!” exclaimed Jesse.

“Right. Just like there are good things we eat that make us strong and healthy, there are good things we see that make us feel safe and loved, but there are other things we see or think about that make us feel bad. And there are some things that are poison and will kill the part of our brain that tells us what is right or wrong.”

“What are the poisonous things we shouldn't look at?” asked Jesse.

“Evil pictures,” Emer told him, “of people doing bad things. As you get older, boys may try to get you to look at pictures of girls wearing bad clothes or sometimes not wearing any clothes at all. They will laugh and tell you it is cool to look at them, but don't. Those pictures are poison, and they will hurt you!”

Should I not look at pictures of girls at all?” asked Jesse.

“No, it's fine to see some things,” Emer smiled. “Whenever I see a picture of a mother holding a little baby, it makes me feel extra special love in my heart. But if you see something that makes you feel uneasy, look away fast! And don't look back. That is poison! Remember, don't let yourself think about things that are evil, either. Always ask yourself, would my father look at or think about this, and you will know what to do.”

“OK,” Jesse said.

“Sometimes, you will see or hear about bad things anyway, even when you are trying not to,” Emer added. “It won't be your fault, but they will still get inside your head.”

“Oh, no,” wailed Jesse. “Then I won't be like my father!”

“Yes you will,” Emer told him, “If you look away and don't let yourself keep thinking about those things. It will be hard, but make yourself think about good things, and the bad stuff won't be able to stay inside your mind to poison it, after all.”

“And never forget,” he added as he pulled Jesse closer and hugged him. “Love is still the most powerful thing in the world. It will help protect you from poison, just like it will make you feel good and safe and happy. So if something doesn't make you feel love in here,” and he patted the boy over his heart,” stay away from it!”

Kicked out of Seminary

School started the day after Labor Day in 1970, whether I wanted it to or not.  I was 14, in 9th grade, and still at the junior high.  I suppose it wasn't so bad, at least I was one of the older kids finally.  By now I knew how junior high worked, where everything was, and most of the teachers.  Junior High seemed to be divided into three groups.  There were the cool guys, the cheerleaders with beautiful long hair and super cute clothes and the jocks who played every sport; the nobodies (I was one of them) who were not so cute, popular, talented or so rich, but they were OK; and the want-a-be hippies who hung out on the street corner across from the school, smoked behind the bushes and talked about dope.  They still scared me to death, but since I didn't know any of them personally they didn't bother me too much.

One good thing about starting 9th grade was finally being old enough to go across the street to release time Seminary.  For an hour we went to a scripture study class put on by our church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day-Saints, (the Mormons).  I'd heard all about seminary from my older brother, Keith, who started Seminary the year before.  Every day he came home with awesome stories about his cool teacher and the stories he told. 

My teacher’s name was Brother Moss.  This was his first year teaching, and he wasn't very sure of himself nor was he very good with discipline.  The kids, especially the boys, really gave him a hard time.  My hour was probably the worst of the day, there were a lot popular boys in class who thought they were really cool and never stopped talking. It was kind of fun at first, but after awhile they got really annoying.   Poor Brother Moss eventually gave up trying to teach lessons and made us read the scriptures all class long.  It was really boring.

Although I was not one of the talkers, I didn't help things out at all.  I thought Brother Moss was a terrible teacher, and a lot of times I hid my latest Agatha Christie murder mystery inside my scriptures, so it looked like I was reading the scriptures but I wasn't. I didn’t do the assigned reading at home, either, so I wasn’t learning much. 

Each week we had a test over the chapters we should have studied.  Since I hadn't read the assignments I didn’t do well on the tests, and I failed the mid term exam.  It was really embarrassing.  I knew I shouldn’t fail any tests, but especially not in Seminary.  Instead of feeling bad for not doing my work, though, I blamed Brother Moss for being a terrible teacher.

We took the midterm on Wednesday.  Thursday after Seminary, some of the boys in my class snuck into the girl’s bathroom and put a cherry bomb under the toilet.  Somehow they rigged a long fuse, so they were gone before the explosion, but it wasn't hard for Brother Moss to figure out how it happened.  The next day when we went to Seminary there was a sign on the door telling us we had all been expelled from Seminary, and to go back across the street and report in at the auditorium.  When we got there we found the Principal waiting or us.  He really read us the riot act.  As well as being our Principal at the Junior High, he was also a member of our Church, and a Bishop.  He yelled at us for the whole hour, telling us what bad examples we were being, how much damage we had caused in the Seminary building, and how mean we had been to Brother Moss.

I was never more embarrassed in my life, or scared!  How could I be kicked out of seminary?  (Of course, in the end it was only for one day, but it sure scared me.)  When the principal told us we should be ashamed of how hard we had made it on poor Brother Moss, a brand new teacher, I didn’t feel sorry for him at all.  I still blamed him for my bad grade in Seminary, for getting me in trouble, and for being such a terrible teacher. 

I went home that day afraid to face mom and dad.  I had been kicked out of Seminary, I had a failing grade, and I was in so much trouble.  But when I told them about it they were more than understanding, and I didn’t get in trouble at all.  In fact, they thought it was kind of funny.  Dad said he bet those boys had learned their lesson and he let it go at that.  I didn't

We had planned a camping trip for that weekend.  Dad was taking the boys deer hunting, and we girls came along just for fun.  We took the camper and went someplace up by Flagstaff.  The weather was perfect, the fire smelled good, we had marshmallows and hot dogs to roast, but I couldn’t enjoy myself.   I was too upset about Seminary.  I remember sitting by the fire that night, stewing over all that had happened, with my stomach twisting itself into knots.

Early in the morning dad and the boys went hunting.  Mom and the little girls played games in the camper, but I sat outside by the fire and worried.  My stomach was still in knots, but it was easing up a little. Finally I went for a walk in the woods, and as my anger subsided, I started to think clearer.  I realized that I was not in trouble for what those boys had done, it was not my fault, and I would be OK.   I even began to feel a little sorry for Brother Moss.  He didn’t have any experience handling teenagers, and our particular class was really tough.  I knew if I had tried harder and done my homework I would not have failed the tests.  I also knew that if I had tried I could have been friendlier to him and been at least one person in the class who listened.   I finally decided that on Monday I was going to go to Seminary and apologize.

Monday I walked across the street to the Seminary building feeling better about things than I had the whole semester.  I was going to tell Brother Moss I was sorry, I was going to work hard, and I was going to try to make his first year of teaching a success. 

But Brother Moss wasn’t there, and I never saw him again.  Our new Seminary teacher told us that Brother Moss had decided to quit and become an accountant.  The new teacher was excellent.  He knew how to handle teenagers, even stinking boys, and he made learning the scriptures fun.  In the end, though, I think I learned more from Brother Moss than I learned the whole rest of the year. 

All of my life I have wished I could find Brother Moss and tell him I'm sorry.  Who knows, maybe somehow he will read this story, and that would make me very happy.  Whether he does or not, one thing is for sure.  Brother Moss taught me one of the most important lessons of my life.  Now when I'm angry about something, I stop and ask myself, “Hey, why am I mad?   Am I in trouble?  Did I do something wrong?"  Usually that's exactly what's going on, and then, even though it's hard, I try to talk myself into correcting my mistakes, not wasting energy on being angry.