It isn’t that way now. The quiet fields are broken into building lots and the farmers build jet engines in the city and garden with a roto-tiller after work. The old canal is lined with concrete and in the center of the town the Saturday and-sun-drenched baseball diamond has shrunk to softball under lights, and the county has built a tennis court just off third base for a game the kids are beginning to learn to play in white shoes.
Dialogue 9.3 (1974): 21–37
Duane Jeffrey is to be thanked for his article, “Seers, Savants and Evolution: The Uncomfortable Interface.” It is an excellent summary of the history of thought on evolution in the Church. To illustrate its power, it made us very carefully reconsider our own anti-evolution bias and again perceive evolution as a possibility.
This talk is necessarily going to be “oral history.” As such it is suspect, as most oral history must be. Time plays tricks on our memories. It beclouds our judgment, confuses people, bends our interpretations,…
The year 1981 saw the deaths of Harvey Fletcher and Henry Eyring, men of great religious faith whose superb professional achievements placed them in the first ranks of the nation’s scientists. (See Steven H. Heath’s…
Max Hansen dipped his brush into the can and reached to the ceiling, spreading paint thickly and smoothly across the plyboard surface. He paused a moment, listening to a faint tapping sound. Rain? No. A…
Shortly after sunrise Otis Wadby was driving to work in Circleville. He stayed nights with his son in Junction, his wife having expelled him from his home in Circleville because he had taken up with…
In 1969 Edwin B. Firmage taped oral history interviews with his grandfather, Hugh B. Brown. The following essay has been adapted from these memoirs, which will be published by Signature Books in 1988 as An Abundant Life: The Memoirs of Hugh B. Brown.
I often muse what I would do if I were God: Would I first stop wars, eliminate hunger and disease, make people loving and caring? I think not. Though the prospect is appealing, I know…
Yep, it was me who done it. Me and the kid with the telescope. We were the cause of the historic theatre’s demolition. Let me tell you how it happened. I was living in Salt…
Marta Pillahuel was very old. She lived in the country with her pigs on one side and her chickens on the other. Her wooden house leaned to the east and let in the weather—a warm…