50th ANNIVERSARY MEMORY RECALL...

Last year Savannah Nichols was the first of the "Second Generation Nichols Kids" to graduate from high school.  It also marked the 50th anniversary of my own high school graduation in May 1964.  I wrote Savannah this letter and gave it to her as part of my present to her.   I hope she will remember it as a loving gift--a tidbit of my personal history which tells in detail about a similar experience so many years before her own.  And because we only celebrate an event once for a 50th anniversary, I thought maybe the rest of the family might enjoy reading about this little blast from my past.

May 2014

Dear Savannah,
I never dreamed when I graduated from Rawlins High School in May 1964 that 50 years later I would be celebrating the high school graduation of my first grandchild.  On that fragrant Spring night half a century ago, all my classmates and I could muster about the future was to joke that in 20 years we would be able to see if 1984 was really the way George Orwell imagined it in his famous science fiction novel.  Twenty years seemed so far away.   There was no way to imagine 50!  Or that we would be in a new century AND a new millennium.

So in honor of that 50 year span, and the fact you have been accepted at my own Alma Mater to continue your studies, I wanted to share some of my senior/graduation experiences and some of my thoughts at this time with you.

My graduating class had 113 people.  I was number three and the highest ranking girl in the senior class.  It was a switch in placement for me and Lyle Bareiss.  When we graduated from the 8^th grade in 1960, I was second and gave the Salutatory Address.  Lyle was number three.  Guy Ray—handsome, drop-down dead good looking, great athlete, and every girl’s dreamboat—remained at number one.  He gave the Valedictory Address both in our 8^th grade graduation and for our graduation from high school.  That meant that Lyle had to give the second place talk in 1964.  I was off the hook for that but disappointed in myself that I had slipped from second to third place.

Graduation back then was a pretty serious step in one’s life.  It was a sober business to be graduating from high school and embarking on another path to higher education or a skilled profession.  Or the Military.  The United States still had a draft law then which meant that as soon as a young man turned 18, he registered with the Selective Service System who conducted the draft procedure for our country.  If a young man went to college, he had a 1S (C) status and was deferred from the draft as long as he went to school.  If he didn’t go to college, then he was automatically put at the top of the list as 1A and was drafted within weeks of his 18^th birthday or whenever he quit college. 

Graduation itself back then was also a pretty formal affair.  The Sunday evening prior to the graduation ceremonies, the graduates and families convened for a spiritual message (given by one of the local clergymen) just exactly the way they would for graduation a few days later.  Our fairly new high school—the first graduating class was the year we graduated from 8^th grade—didn’t have an auditorium like the old high school-turned-junior high did.  But all those rows of chairs and the dignitaries sitting up front made it seem like more than the cavernous space where we had cheered our athletic teams, attended assemblies, and held our prom.  At the Sunday night baccalaureate service where we marched in two by two—boy and girl, boy and girl—we filled in the rows of folding chairs  set up in the gymnasium.  That was good practice for our “real” walk to Elgar’s familiar Pomp and Circumstance.  Just hearing that piece of music now still stirs the excitement and trepidation I felt at that time.

I also felt important. All eyes were on us. Parents and families were trying to pick their own special person out of a sea of white mortarboards and white graduation gowns on the girls and maroon caps and gowns which the boys were wearing—basically white and red which were our school colors.  The process for ordering the cap and gown which was heavy robe material and only on lease—we kept nothing but the silk tassel—ordering  the announcements from Josten’s—everyone’s was exactly the same with a personal name card inside—and trying to keep all the instructions in mind was mind-boggling, but it was finally behind us.  The announcements had been sent out weeks before, and we were actually wearing the gowns.  Ready, set, GO!

And when I talk about formal, I am also talking about formal dress under the gowns.  The graduates wore dress-up clothes.  The boys had to wear white shirts, dress slacks, dress shoes and ties so the knot showed at the neck front of the gown.  The girls wore fancy dresses with heels and hose.  My dress was a cute one-piece with bloused top and high neck.  The fabric was what was referred to as a marshmallow crepe in a pale pink abstract print on a white background.  My shoes were white sandal pumps.  I looked chic!

A couple of months before the end of school, my dad made me drive my mother and myself to Salt Lake City so I could purchase a new dress for graduation and also my prom dress.  No small town outfits for me!  I was scared to death to drive that distance by myself—meaning the only driver—but my dad pooh-poohed my fears and said I would do fine.  After all, I had been driving since I was 11 years old, and had gotten a license when I was 15 as soon as I was of legal age.  And true, I had driven much of the distance to Utah myself anyway while my dad was sleeping in the back seat.  So, my mom and I set off for the big city and were savy shoppers at the big department stores (Aurbach’s and Z.C.M.I.) on Main Street just down from the temple.  Both dresses and the shoes came in under $100.  (I think the dresses are still in a box down the basement.)

I was in the hospital with some kind of influenza the whole entire last week of school during my senior year.  Not only did I miss most of the exams (the scholastic status had already been determined, so grades on the exams wouldn’t have made a difference) I also missed a lot of the fun—Senior Day among them, although now I don’t even remember what we were supposed to be doing to celebrate.  I did have to take the trig exam, but the teacher asked me the questions, and when I didn’t know the answers he “guided” me to the solution (most of the answers probably—that was one math class in which I didn’t do so well.  One reporting period I got a C.  It was the only one I ever got in my life.)  Anyway I was glad to be out of the hospital just a couple of days before graduation though I still felt weak.  Plus I was able to attend the one graduation party at which I really wanted to be.

In a way that hospital visit gave me some kind of celebrity status.  I had lots of sympathetic visitors, and Lyle Bareiss even came to ask if I would “walk” with him for the processional.  I was afraid that I would be assigned the person I would walk with according to the alphabet.  So, that made me happy.  Since Lyle was number two and I was number three in the class, I was right up at the front as we walked into the gymnasium.  Guy Ray,  number one, and Karla Santich, "no status", but Guy’s "wannabe" girlfriend were the head couple.  Numbers two and three—that would be Lyle and me—were the second couple.

Since there were so few people in my class—the next year was the start of the Baby Boomers and they had 250—it is safe to say that I knew every single one of them.  And some of them I had gone to school with since Kindergarten.  Both Jane Peterson and Teresa Spencer had even been in the same section of every class, every year in elementary school.  Oh, and I think Marie Jack was, too.

I remember thinking we were soooo grown up.  We were so much more sophisticated than the under classmen.  But I remember also how apprehensive I was about taking off for college.  Finally at the point of feeling comfortable at last after four years, I wouldn’t have minded sticking around for another year.  Provided everyone else did, too.  I wouldn’t have wanted to be the ONLY one doing a victory lap.  But that’s not how things work.  Life moves on and you better be on board moving right along with it.

Because of my scholastic status in the graduating class, I was offered a full-ride scholarship to the University of Wyoming.  But I told my guidance counselor I didn’t want it.  I wanted to go to BYU and applied for a scholarship there.  The counselor asked me what I would do if I didn’t get the scholarship.  Surely I would reconsider and go to the University of Wyoming at that point.  NOPE!  Even if I didn’t get a scholarship, I knew I wanted to go to BYU.  But I DID get the scholarship.  The only thing that bothered me going forward was the gnawing at the back of my mind about what I would do if I lost the scholarship because of my grades.
Much of the rest of that experience has faded now.  It was so vivid I thought I would never forget every little detail.  But I have.  Yet I do remember it as a really terrific time in my life.  It seemed to be a very visible major step across a threshold to the next part of my life.

So, Savannah, you probably have some of the same fears and feelings of exhilaration.  Life isn’t so different after all.  Just the trappings that accompany each of our decades is different.

I sincerely wish you well.  I am beaming with pride for your accomplishments and am certain you will find fun, friendship, and a lot of opportunity to fuel your faith in yourself and in your abilities.  You have proven yourself a leader.  Be that assertive person in your living space and in your ward.  As a freshman, I was in the newest created ward on Campus—the 56^th, in six separate stakes.  I can’t imagine how many there are now.  But there is plenty of room for you to shine.

Take care!  Soar with exuberance!  And remember to live in gratitude for this wonderful opportunity that you helped come your way.

Love from your father's mother,

Georgia Carol Huggins Nichols-Bateman
a.k.a.  Momma G

MOTHER'S DAY 2015...

"a GOOD mom lets her kids lick the beaters.  a GREAT mom turns the beaters off first!"

I was standing in a long line at the little post office in Johnstown the other day to mail several cards and a couple of packages when my eyes rested on a turnstile of greeting cards for sale.  There were about eight people in front of me with only one clerk, so I idly glanced at some of the cards for "Friendship" "Missing You" and "Congratulations!"

As I spun the display some Mother's Day cards came into view, and I took out one or two, read the sentiment, and replaced it before I spied one with a drawing of a mixer with two beaters full of cookie dough.  The copy read, "a Good mom lets her kids lick the beaters."  When I opened the card I read the punchline:  "a GREAT mom turns the beaters off first!"

I began laughing.  A chuckle at first, but the more I played it over in my mind, the harder I laughed until I was practically snorting with hilarity because I thought it was soooo funny!  Finally I tapped the guy in front of me on the shoulder and said, "You've got to take a look at this one."  He took that same card out of the rack, read it and started laughing, too, before he put it back.  Then, he turned to me and said, "I've got to buy that one." And he did.  I told Louis about it when I got to the car and began laughing all over again then...and ditto the whole rest of the day every time I thought about it.

Today I thought about it again.  Only this time I thought about it in terms of myself. 

I was a GREAT mom.  Sure I made some mistakes, even some big ones that have maybe traumatized you and made you suffer all the while I have been mostly unaware of the pain I might have caused.  But I never, ever got up any morning and said to myself, "Today I am going to make my kids miserable and unhappy by doing or saying something insensitive or hurtful."  Nope, I just got up with the idea that I had a job to do.  And I did it the best way I knew how, from the example of my own parents, lessons at Church, and articles and books I read from the "experts".  But I loved being a mother!  It was hard work, and, admittedly, I made it more challenging by setting high standards for myself and for my children. 

Truthfully, there were years I really did not like Mother's Day in terms of myself (only to celebrate my own mother) and felt some guilt that I didn't measure up to some perceived notion that most other mothers were better than I for any number of resons.  Yes, some time in the past has been spent apologizing to you for things I did--or didn't--do. However, now I am at the point I can look back and say with all honesty, "I was a GREAT mom!"

Not only did I believe I had a responsibility to love and nurture you, but I also believed it was my job to teach you the gospel. Of course providing a clean environment, well balanced meals, appropriate clothing--Ross remembered that NOT being the case as he grew up--and what limited opportunities we could afford for the extras like piano lessons and some sports because I stayed home all those years, plus TLC for cuts and scrapes and bruises of the body and soul were all important.  Yet I know in my heart, that for which I will be most approved in my role of motherhood is that I taught you the gospel.

It seems that you have arrived at a sufficient point of experience in your own lives that you don't need to seek my advice--maybe because you truly believe I have no credentials to offer advice--but I hope now and then you have occasion to reflect on some of the things I taught you while you were growing up.  Perhaps you even used those experiences as a pattern in making decisions in your own lives.  I fancy believing that now and again you actually think I "did good" as your mother. That musing kind of warms my heart and helps me realize the joy promised to a "mother heart".

2015 is the 101st anniversary of this holiday whose real beginnings were "Mothers Friendship Days" which were instrumental in the reconciliation and healing of the wounded in families from both sides after the Civil War.

Charmaine Yoest writes, "At its heart, Mother's Day is a recognition of the power of motherhood. Motherhood binds together families and communities, and is a celebration of the unique contribution that a mother provides not only to her family but to the broader community as well.  Recognizing women on Mother's Day shows respect for those who choose every day to do the wonderful and hard work of parenting." I add to that statement, whether women have biological children or not.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

BECOMING AS LITTLE CHILDREN...

NOTE:  I am now in my 15th year of writing a monthly Visiting Teaching Letter to the sisters in my ward who are on the "no-contact" list.  A few years ago I compiled some of those "LETTERS OF TESTIMONY" into a small booklet to share with family and friends.

For the last several months the topic of the monthly Relief Society lesson has featured attributes of the Savior.  For April the attribute for study is "without guile or hypocrisy".  It is an attribute I want to emulate all the time, though I fall down sometimes. 

In thinking about personal experiences with this particular attribute of Christ, I remembered this little incident in the early 70's.  I have decided to keep it as a handy reference to remind me why the Savior has asked us to become like little children.  (See The Ensign, April 2015, p. 7 for the complete lesson reference.)

April 2015

I have a unique painting of Jesus Christ displayed in my home.  In it Jesus looks like a carefree young man who is carrying a little boy on his shoulders.  They both look happy.

The scriptures are clear that Christ liked to be with little children.  He took them into his arms and blessed them in both the Old and New Worlds.  In Mark he said, "...for of such is the kingdom of God."

We can imagine that the kingdom of God is peopled with those who are without guile or hypocrisy--that is what little children are.  We can learn much about being without guile from them.  They are innocent, honest, and pure.  They are not trying to act differently from what they are feeling or thinking.   There is no ulterior motive for their actions, no putting on a mask to hide something they are not.  They are simply like Christ--without guile or hypocrisy which is the attribute of Jesus Christ we are learning about this month.

Years ago when my two oldest boys were just toddlers, my husband decided to go back to school and therefore went straight to the university every night when he left work in Denver before coming home to Arvada.  That meant the evenings without him were long and lonely.  So I devised a little activity that my small boys and I looked forward to and enjoyed for a couple of hours on those weekday evenings.  I called it "School" and suggested since Daddy was at school, we could be at school, too.  Every night after their baths, we would gather around the kitchen table where I had laid out little exercise books, puzzles, word games and other fun learning activities.  That was the incentive they had not to spend too much time playing in the bath tub.

One night Brice was having such a good time in the tub, he just didn't want to get out.  I'm not sure if I had something special I wanted to share with both of them at the same time or maybe I was weary or had something I needed to do after they went to bed or maybe I was just tired of being alone at night without Ross.  But...after repeated reminders, I gave the ultimatum that if Brice didn't get out of the tub right then, he would have to go straight to bed and not play "School" with us that night.

Another few minutes passed while Harold and I kept busy doing something together at the kitchen table.  Suddenly a scrubbed and cheerful Brice

appeared in the doorway with a bright smile ready to join in.  I flat out told him he had taken too much time and lost his turn to play school that night.  I was firm. "Go to bed!"  Brice's face fell in disappointment and his smile faded, but I was adamant.

Then Harold spoke up.  He told me Brice hadn't meant to take so long in the tub, and couldn't we--just this once--let him play with us instead of having to go to bed all by himself?  Please...?

It wasn't what Harold said.  It was the two big tears that were coursing down his cheeks in pure empathy that made me realize these weren't two little kids bent on making me upset or deliberately dawdling so MY plan didn't work.  Here were two sweet little boys who just wanted to be together with me and do the fun things we had been doing every single night.  That flash of understanding stabbed me straight to my hardened heart.

I learned a lot about "without guile and hypocrisy" that night and why Christ put the little children in his midst and told the people they needed to become like them-- because the little children were like him.  Understanding that concept will help us strive to follow Christ's example.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the First Presidency said, "None of us is quite as Christlike as we know we should be.  But we earnestly desire to overcome our faults and the tendency to sin.  With our heart and soul we yearn to become better with the help of the Atonement of Jesus Christ."

That inspiring picture of Jesus with the little boy on his shoulders is on the wall that faces the staircase in my home.  Almost every day when I come down those stairs I am reminded that Christ liked to be with little children.  I want to be "child-like".  I want Christ someday to "like" to be with me.

The lesson says, "We know 'we will be judged according to our actions, the desires of our hearts, and the kind of people we have become.'  Yet as we strive to repent, we will become more pure--and 'blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God'".

We cannot go far astray if we keep looking to little children, who are without guile and hypocrisy, as our role models while we work on emulating the Savior.

LIFE IS GOOD....

EVERY FLIGHT ATTENDANT HAS A STORY...

Most of the stories have to do with some kind of assignment that turned from the normal to the out of the ordinary; something like deadheading to an assignment, laying over, and then deadheading back--for more than just one leg or two.  Or maybe sometime they got "lost" in the system and the crew desk didn't locate them for a couple of days while they just enjoyed laying around a hotel until they were "found". I've heard some stories where FA's ended up flying just a fraction of the assigned hours and still got paid for the whole trip.  In short, anything that would make a flight attendant hearing it wish she'd had an experience like it.

I used to tell Louis about these incidents and wonder aloud why nothing like THAT ever happened to me.  It seems like the crew desk always knows where I am, and for every flight that gets cancelled or changed for some other crew,  MY flight is always the one right before or right after the cancelled one.  So, my crew ends up with the excess passengers who are stuffed onto an already full flight.

A few years ago I had "kind of" an amazing--for me--assignment that ended up where I flew only nine hours out of 25, had a day room, got out of a cross-country LAXIAD flight, deadheaded when some plane had a mechanical, and spent 25 hours in San Francisco--but at the hotel I requested instead of having to go downtown.  When I got home from that trip and told Louis what had happened he said,"  Well, now YOU have a story."  But as the years have rolled on, it has lost its luster and everyone else's experiences sound better than mine once again.

Until last week.....I got a call at 4:30 AM for a 9:05 AM check in to begin a four-day trip.  I didn't have to be the purser, it was all on an airbus and one 757 which is a treat after working on those new 737 900's, and there was a long layover scheduled in Fort Lauderdale.  I wasn't too keen on that since I had a layover there duringSpring Break a couple of years ago.  The whole place--beach, boardwalk, hotel, eateries, etc.--were full of students there for a riotous good time.  I hadn't enjoyed it.

However, this ID noted that after a very looooong first day DENDFW, DFWEWR, EWRFLL over eight hours of flight time  all on the same plane, our layover would be 22 hours at a Marriott Resort Hotel in Pompano Beach.  Woop-de-doo!  That meant NOTHING to me.  Still didn't when we got there because by then it was late at night and the drive from the airport had been about 30 minutes.  The room was exceptionally clean and crisp, as were all the acoutrements. It looked like it had probably been remodeled recently.  But it was dark and I couldn't see anything around the place.  Every time I saw some strip mall or shopping center while we were driving there, we kept going further down the road which would be much too far for even ME to walk the next morning.  Oh, did I mention the desk clerk said the breakfast in the hotel restaurant 6 AM to 11AM was free for United people?  I decided that even though I was so tired and had planned to sleep a solid eight hours, the waffles were calling my name. I love hotel breakfast buffet waffles.  I planned to get there about nine AM.

The breakfast buffet was worth the entire trip!  I have never seen such huge serving platters (gorgeous white crockery ones) filled with fresh strawberries, blueberries, black berries, raspberries, pineapple chunks, melon cubes, and sweet smelling oranges.  There was also all the regular stuff for a breakfast buffet including scrambled eggs, tasty strips of bacon cooked just right, and all the pastries, yogurt, cereal, etc. you could want.  But....the waffles and pancakes weren't part of the buffet.  They were cooked to order, so there was a charge associated with them. I decided I could get my fill of that beautiful fruit and all the rest and skip the waffles this time.  And, the orange juice was freshly squeezed, with a sprig of mint and an orange slice over the rim of the frosty glass.  Food fit for a king!  I even had the option of sitting out on the beach restaurant's lanai where it was just a walk through the gate to the private beach right on the water.  I opted to stay inside.  (You know how much I am not too keen on the beach and the water.)

Then I went out walking. It was pretty much touristy stuff, but I had fun looking at everything and buying postcards.  Then it was back to the hotel for a much needed shower as the temp was in the 80's with humidity, of course.  I had the rest of the afternoon to read, snooze, write postcards--all of which I did out on my own little balcony with a pleasant view of the water, almost a picture postcard view in itself!  Since our limo pick-up wasn't until after seven that night, I'd had almost 12 golden hours to myself.  Life doesn't get much better than that.

Wait...it does!  We got to the airport only to find out that everyone who had been scheduled to fly to Newark on our flight had been put on the Continental metal flight which left an hour before ours did.  We had ZERO passengers in First Class and ZERO passengers in the Economy Cabin.  So, the three of us sat in the First Class seats, ate the First Class food, and acted like passengers for the three hours up to Newark. LIFE CAN'T GET MUCH BETTER THAN THAT!

And that's MY flight attendant story which elicits oohs and aahs from other FA's when I share it.  LIFE IS INDEED GOOD!

NO EMPTY CHAIRS....

The Denver Temple was closed five weeks instead of two weeks for its winter cleaning.  That seemed like a long time to be away from the temple.  It opened again last Tuesday, but I was gone and the first day I was able to go wasn't until yesterday.  Louis and I drove down together since his shift on Saturdays goes from noon until the end.  It was also our Greeley Stake Temple Day with a chapel meeting at 1 pm.  I haven't been able to go to any of those for some time, but I have always enjoyed the spiritual message from one of the members in the temple presidency.

Yesterday's message was no exception.  President Poulson asked us if we believed that the people on the other side of the veil were able to pray.  I nodded my head in a resounding, "YES!"  He then went on to relate a very interesting story of one man's promptings to secure an Endowment for a pilot he had met in 1965 when he was serving with the Air Force in Viet Nam.  That was a moving segue to thinking about my own promptings about this very subject.

For a long time I used to wonder if Jeremy were praying for us and cheering us on to make right choices so we would be together as a family again.  I didn't know how Heaven was set up.  But several years ago I quit wondering whether or not people were praying for us from the other side of the veil because I have a knowledge that is true.  I know Jeremy yearns for us to do what is right, obtain the necessary ordinances, and live the plan of salvation here as preparation to be with him.  In fact all of our extended family is praying the same thing...especially Dad's, as so many of them still are awaiting those temple ordinances that will literally free them.

I haven't said anything about this to the Nichols Family for a long time, but I constantly think about our family and the promises made in the temple long ago that we could be together forever if we lived to that end.  So, I just want to encourage ALL of us to think about what direction we're moving and make any changes--big or small--to align ourselves with the choices that will bring about an eventual happy family reunion after we leave our lives here.

NO EMPTY CHAIRS...  To that end, I add my prayers to Jeremy's.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

Today marks the 91st anniversary of the Melvin Reed and Maude Marie Crane Huggins Family.  They were married by their bishop on a cold winter's night in Idaho with very little in the way of celebration.  I believe maybe a few gifts from family and friends, but no party or reception.  That kind of partying was not so much the accepted social custom at that time.  Money was scarce, and what little people had was husbanded for the necessities. 

Melvin and Maude got on the train almost immediately and went to Salt Lake City where they set up housekeeping in Riverton where my dad's parents had a farm.  My mother said it was such a pleasure to arrive in the Salt Lake Valley and see plowed fields with circling seagulls instead of the snow and ice they had left behind.

That was the inauspicious start of 60 years of marriage.  But in spite of its modest beginnings, it was a productive and fruitful partnership which generated people with the same hearty genes and determination to endure to the end just as their immediate pioneer parents and grandparents had done.

We are part of that noble birthright and heritage.  I cherish the upbringing of honesty, integrity, and hard work which I passed on to you.  Though you have not liked my saying this, we were the meat and the potatoes, the work horses who get the world's work done.  We will never be famous, but we will be revered in our own family for character traits which reflect the birthright of good people who tried to do their best.

Happy Anniversary! to all of those who carry that Huggins link in their family history line. 

     At the sheep camp in Idaho where they met about 1922                         This is the way you probably remember them.

MY SUMMER'S DAY WALK TO THE MANHATTAN NEW YORK TEMPLE

Last week our Relief Society had a night meeting focused on a service project to provide shoes and socks for  a homeless shelter in Greeley.  The theme was "Walk a Mile in My Shoes".  In addition to taking new or gently used items to donate, if we had a pair a shoes with an interesting story, we were encouraged to share it.  I was scheduled to begin a three-day trip that morning and couldn't attend, but I took my donation AND my walking shoes to the RS Secretary who lives in the next block--just in case they didn't get enough participation at least they had one story to share.  Turned out they DID read my story, and I even got a couple of comments today at Church that the sisters liked hearing it. This is what I shared with them. 

If these old walking shoes might talk, they could tell a lot about where they have been.  But of all the miles they have covered with me, the following story would be their most cherished memory.

Last June I was assigned to fly six all-night trips, first to Phoenix then through the night to New York where our crew had a 25 hour layover at a hotel directly across the street from the new 9/11 Memorial in Lower Manhattan near the Financial District.

I had never been to the Manhattan Temple since it was built in 2004, though my daughter Brittany and I attended Sunday services there in 1998.  But I really wanted to do a session at this temple in New York City which is near famous landmarks like the Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall.  Renting a car was out of the question.  The fare for a taxi was prohibitive.  The Subway was a viable choice, but after looking at the simple map at the hotel desk, I was certain I could walk there and drew a line from my hotel to the temple.   Google directions showed it to be a 5.1 mile walk.  It was easily a doable challenge, so I started to make plans.

We usually land at the airport after an all-nighter about 6 a.m. Then we are picked up by a limousine service which delivers us to our hotel by 8 a.m. At that point in my trip, all I want to do is go to bed for a few hours!  Unfortunately every time I did that, it was usually about three or four p.m. by the time I showered and was out on the street.  On the first trips it was so late in the afternoon after I did all that, I decided to give up the plan to walk to the temple that day.  One afternoon I even got as far as 14^th Street before I figured I had better turn around and get back to the hotel by dark. 

On the fifth trip I knew what I was going to do—not go to bed but walk straight to the temple for the 11 a.m. session.  I was pretty sure I could do that.  Once I got to the hotel that Tuesday, I changed my clothes, put a skirt, shoes and stockings into my backpack along with my temple recommend and a bottle of water, and I started my journey.  I began walking north on West Street bordering the Hudson River until 14^th Street which I followed to 7^th Avenue.  I walked through neighborhoods you would recognize because you have heard about them or seen them in the movies or on TV—Chinatown, Little Italy, Soho, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, Tribeca, The Garment District, up to Midtown then I followed Broadway to the corner of West 65^th Street and Columbus Avenue where the temple is located.

 It was 10:15 by the time I got there, and I was hot and sweaty though it was still June and only in the low 70’s. I had just enough time to use the restroom in the Visitor’s Annex to freshen up, put on my skirt, stockings and shoes then present myself at the recommend desk.  It was quite a walk—even for me—but it was sooo worth it. 

The temple is unique in that it is built inside an existing building, completely sound-proofed from all the noise of New York City.  And something else unique is that the door handles are shaped like the Statue of Liberty torch!  The temple is small, but in my session it looked like there were people from every continent but maybe Australia. Many of them were using headphones to hear the instructions in another language.  It was truly a “gathering of Israel”.  I deemed it a privilege to be there!  After I left the temple, I felt like I was walking on air—but I rode the Subway back to my hotel where I had a long tall cool drink of water and laid down to rest.

On my sixth and final trip later that same week, our hotel was changed and we went to Morristown, New Jersey, for our 25 hour stay.  I was really glad I had made the effort to walk to the temple when I did.  The opportunity would have been gone if I had waited any longer.  It was an experience I will always remember as special!

Georgia Nichols