Chapter 11: Inter-mission

As spring break rolls around in 1930, the sun begins to thaw the icy sidewalks between Ute Stadium and Temple Square; automobile traffic along the slush-lined corridors of the downtown avenues forces pedestrians against the shop windows to avoid being sprayed. The four friends make their daily streetcar commute across the city along with fellow students, job-seekers of all ages, and those workers lucky enough to still be employed.

Having celebrated their 19th birthdays, thoughts of a mission race through each of their minds. In these tumultuous fiscal times, however, the question of whether to serve a mission is followed by an equally difficult question of when to serve a mission; it is certainly not automatic at any particular age.

On one end of the spectrum, some missionaries are waiting until their mid- or late twenties to serve. On the opposite end are much younger elders such as Hugh Nibley – a year their junior – who is already half-way through his mission to Germany. The exciting tales he had sent home as a 17-year-old “greenie” – including amazing conversion stories and even a claim to have run into Hitler himself in a Munich restroom – are well known to each of them and make them wonder what they might be missing by delaying the decision to serve.

Despite the recent official efforts to promote uniformity among the ranks of missionaries, a few even more non-traditional missionaries – reminiscent of the previous century – are still serving in remote corners of the globe: one elder abroad is entering his tenth year as a full-time missionary; some even serve more than once; and, in fact – though it is no longer commonplace – there are still a handful of married missionaries serving overseas missions while their spouses and children remain at home.

Traditions and conventions that have been emerging for some time among Mormon missionaries, however, are now evolving into a bona fide missionary culture. Missionary farewells, with their formal programs and subsequent receptions – and aided by their now particularly relevant fundraising function – have become standard protocol throughout the Church; one by one, the four friends attend farewell services for those fellow classmates opting to serve, sending them on their way with an envelope of hard-earned cash.

The April 1930 General Conference is in itself historic: the Church is celebrating its centennial, and the conference is preceded by festivals, parades, pavilions, and other activities meant to announce Utah’s late arrival on the same stage as the other states of the Union and – perhaps prematurely – its emergence from the stranglehold of the Great Depression. The atmosphere is not unlike a world fair; as they visit the exhibition and take in the speeches, the emphasis on the Church’s history places a spark in the souls of the four friends. Each reference to missionary work in the accompanying sessions of the 100th annual General Conference further fans the flame.

One of the primary events associated with the centennial celebration is the release of B.H. Roberts’ Comprehensive History of the Church, published especially for the occasion. Homer orders all seven sold-out volumes from Deseret Book. As soon as a copy of each volume becomes available in print, he sprints to the print shop to pick up his own, fresh copy. Over the next few weeks, he reads each volume from cover to cover. He finds even the most detailed material to be quite fascinating; besides instilling in him a dream to work as a historian someday, it also plants in him the desire to spread the word by telling the Church’s story as a missionary.

Turning that desire into practice, however, has become a daunting challenge. As in the past, those with the means are expected to serve; unfortunately, though, the means are now lacking among many prospective missionaries, and the financial uncertainty of the day complicates their long-term prospects. For many families, mission savings accounts have disintegrated – swept away with failing banks in the wake of the stock market crash – and missionary-age young men even among the most prominent families in the Church are deciding to postpone or give up their mission plans altogether.

~~~~~~~~

As he balances the ledger books in preparation for the end of the 1929-1930 school year, Rulon takes a break and looks out his office window at the students traversing the commons. An April shower has caught many students off-guard, but a few umbrellas cover those who had been prepared. Rulon tries to imagine a deeper allegory in which the rainfall represents a day of reckoning, but he can’t help just wishing he still fit in among the students; his reminiscent daydream is disturbed by a knock.

“Anybody home?”

Rulon spins around in response to the interruption; he quickly returns to his seat and faces the door. “Yes?” he says in his best, professional tone.

Hamp stomps his gumboots on the door mat and shakes off his long pant legs as he enters the room. “Sorry about the puddle,” he says, “It was a beautiful morning earlier, so I didn’t think to bring an umbrella.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” says Rulon, a bit surprised to see Hamp, “What brings you back to campus?”

“I need a copy of my records for my new job with the Grand Canyon’s park service,” Hamp replies, “Who’d have thought a gear jammer needs a diploma?”

“Well, the Grand Canyon sure sounds like a swell place to spend the summer,” says Rulon, “and these days, any job is a good job. Let’s see what we can dig up in Mrs. Bryan’s office.”

They walk across the hall together and Rulon digs through a stack of multi-colored papers. Mrs. Bryan’s organizational skills haven’t improved since Rulon started his job; in the meantime, though, he has become acquainted with her quirky filing system and can now generally find items in her files more quickly than she herself can.

“There you go,” says Rulon proudly, handing Hamp a canary copy, “it looks like there’s already an extra carbon in your files.”

“Thanks!” says Hamp. “By the way, what’s this I hear about England?”

“I was thrilled to get the call,” replies Rulon excitedly, “You know, that’s where my family has its roots. My father even told me the family of Christ set adrift in the sea and ended up in Avalon – which happens to be in my mission.”

“And when did you start listening to your father’s crazy ideas? Don’t tell me you’ve also taken on his views about – ”

Rulon quickly interrupts, “Not a chance, but it’s the most expensive mission in the Church – $34 per month! I can’t possibly cough up that much dough on my own, so I have been talking to him more about supporting my mission.”

“Any luck?” asks Hamp.

Rulon looks dejectedly at his feet. “Not anymore. I asked him if he could help out at all financially, if not with his moral support; he finally agreed, but not until Leo finishes school so he won’t have that tuition payment anymore.”

“Well, she’s finishing up now, isn’t she?” asks Hamp.

“Yes, but after he talked the idea over with his fellow plygs, he doesn’t want to risk any possible perception that he is supporting a mainstream missionary.”

Hamp shakes his head. “That’s too bad,” he mumbles.

“Lately he’s been telling everyone he runs into that President Grant is a fallen prophet!” Rulon says, “I think he’s turning into Korihor himself.”

“So how did you manage to keep your plans from being squelched?”

“I’d tell you all about it, but I have to pick up a suit down at Hibbs before they close.”

“I’m having a terrible time approaching my own father about a mission right now,” answers Hamp, “I’ll walk with you if you don’t mind telling me more.”

“Sure,” Rulon consents, “at least I can tell you what doesn’t work. Your father hasn’t likely strayed as far into the abyss as mine, so maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Rulon begins to lock up the office but heads back inside for a moment when he remembers an envelope he had found on his desk that morning.

“By the way, this letter arrived for ‘Zola from Beaver,’” Rulon tells Hamp, “Mrs. Bryan put it on my desk thinking I’d know who to route it to. Any idea who that is?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” replies Hamp, “Let’s just post it on the board in the hall. Someone’s bound to recognize the name.”

Rulon pushes a thumbtack through the corner of the envelope and they make their way across the campus and toward the commercial district. Along the way, with a clever look on his face, Rulon recites his course of action.

“I played it smart with my money,” he begins, “in fact, I moved it around just in time to avoid the drop in the market. I was anxious to serve a mission, but without Father’s financial support, I knew I’d need to work at least another year to save up enough to go.”

Hamp listens intently.

“So I struck a deal with Leo,” Rulon continues, “She’s been looking for a job to start after graduation, but so far she hasn’t been able to find anything.”

“So you managed to find her a job?” asks Hamp.

“Yes siree! I set her up with a full-time position in the attendance office under one condition.”

“And what was that?” Hamp asks, already having guessed the answer.

“That she’d wire part of her paycheck to me in England, of course,” Rulon says with a smirk, “so everybody wins!”

“Well, after paying for school this year,” Hamp says, “I haven’t a cent to my name, and it would take me years to save up enough without my father’s support. Since I’m going south soon, as he likes to tell me, I’m going to need to ask him straight away. Any advice?”

“Well, if I know your father, a few drinks might loosen him up first.”

Hamp laughs. “Wouldn’t that be ironic if he agreed under the influence?”

They arrive at Hibbs, and the clerk hands Rulon a suit in a large paper bag. Rulon pulls it out and holds it up to himself to check the size.

“Say, I thought you were picking up a new suit,” remarks Hamp, “That looks like last year’s suit! Haven’t you grown a few inches since I last saw you?”

“Well, money’s tight, so I just had it altered and reinforced for missionary wear. And since I bought it here, of course they’ve pressed it for free.”

“Always the penny pincher,” mutters Hamp.

“You had better be, too, if you end up getting called to England. It’s the most – ”

“I know, you told me,” interrupts Hamp, “$34 per month. Well actually I do hope I get to go to England, too. You know, the Hamptons and the Prices both trace their roots there.”

“Well, then, I’ll see you there soon,” says Rulon. “Promise me you’ll keep an eye on the school in the meantime.”

“They’ll fall apart without you,” says Hamp. He is only joking, but Rulon takes him seriously.

“You may be right. I did manage to put out a few fires,” says Rulon proudly, “but I wish I had been able to leave a more secure plan for the future. Every time we balance the books, someone else comes in and tells us they’re transferring to public schools since they can’t afford to pay tuition anymore. If the trend of decreasing enrolment continues, the school board will have to react quickly to reduce spending; otherwise they’ll sink themselves.”

“I think you’ve left things in adequate hands,” says Hamp, “what with the Board headed by the prophet himself.”

Rulon sighs. “I’m not so sure,” he says under his breath.

“Besides, you’ve got Commissioner Merrill on the Board and Bryant Hinckley as a Trustee,” Hamp adds, a bit defensively, “There hasn’t ever been a more frugal bunch assembled at the helm of any organization.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” says Rulon, “but for now, every time we rework the books, the hole grows deeper…while at the same time, East High has almost doubled their enrollment.”

“We sure took a beating from their basketball team this year,” Hamp remarks with a smile, “maybe that gives us an excuse.”

“Well legally they have to take every student in their jurisdiction forced out of private school by the tuition costs,” says Rulon, “If only we could get hold of some of that tax money they get for each new student.”

“Oh, don’t you fret,” Hamp says in consolation, a bit bored by all the talk about money and trying to find a way to bring the conversation to an end, “They always seem to find a way. Don’t you remember when they taught us about the financial crisis the L.D.S. went through thirty years ago? The school was on the verge of closing, and at the last minute, Karl Maeser saved it with nothing more than a motivational speech that got the donor dollars flowing.”

“Yes, I do remember that,” consents Rulon. As the last word, he adds, “but this time, I’m afraid, the donors themselves are bankrupt.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to watch things unfold from the other side of the big pond,” says Hamp, bidding farewell, “Wish me luck as I approach my father tomorrow. If things go as planned, I’ll see you in England before too long.”

Hamp fully expects to join Rulon in the old country soon, but as they shake hands and part ways, their paths are beginning a diverging course they cannot begin to fathom.

The next day – Rulon’s last day on the job before devoting himself to a week of full-time mission preparation – a knock on the frame of the open door to his office grabs his attention, diverting him from the dismal financial papers on his desk.

“I’m not from Beaver, but I’m Zola,” says a cheerful young lady, poking her head through the doorway and waving an envelope.

“Well if you catch the next train out to Beaver,” Rulon says sarcastically, “you can open the letter yourself when you get there.”

“Don’t worry; I know who she is, so I’ll take it to her myself,” says the young lady, “Growing up, I thought I was the only Zola around. And now here at school I have found that there are three of us. We’ve got a Zola Anderson, Zola Kimball and Zola Brown, and we’re all friends!”

“So which one are you?” Rulon asks, cringing in anticipation of the answer.

“Zola Brown, of course, don’t you remember me?” Rulon’s heart sinks a bit as he recognizes the name. Zola has seen Rulon from a distance a number of times, but this is the first time they have actually spoken to one another. “Zina’s always talking about how she likes to annoy you just to see if she can get you off your mark. She says you’re much too stiff.”

“Well she’s much too…” Rulon uncharacteristically strains for words, trying to think of a good insult encapsulating the opposite of stiff. He finds himself floundering awkwardly.

Zola doesn’t allow the slightest moment of silence in their dialogue and blurts out, “You should come for dinner some time.” She looks downward, wondering if she has been too forward. “You know, just to show Zina that there’s much more to you than the suit.”

“Well, I’m heading to England on my mission in a few days,” Rulon counters, “so it might have to – ”

“So we’ll have to have you over right away,” interrupts Zola again, “I’ll talk to mother about setting an extra plate tonight. She talks highly of you, you know.”

Rulon is flattered that Sister Brown even knows his name; he fears that Brother Brown will have a scrutinizing eye on him, but he reluctantly consents to the dinner invitation.

Around the dinner table that night – to Rulon’s relief – Brother Hugh B. Brown excuses himself early on account of a heavy workload, failing to disclose that he is suffering from a rare and excruciatingly painful nerve disorder. His wife Zina Young Card – granddaughter of Brigham Young – remains at the table and watches Rulon closely, observing every subtle nuance.

“There is something special about that boy,” she says to her daughter and namesake when they retire to the kitchen to clean up.

“He’s not for me, mother,” Zina the Younger replies with a typical teenager’s tone and an accompanying roll of the eyes, “but maybe Zola’s interested in his type.”

Zola pinches her sister on the shoulder. “Well I do think he’s a fine fellow, thank you very much.”

After peering through the doorway and observing Rulon awkwardly trying to hold a conversation with the six youngest children, Sister Brown decides to intervene.

“Care to join me in the sitting room?” she asks Rulon, who gladly consents. Once the two of them are seated on the sofa, she asks Rulon if they can pray together. He nods again, and she stands to pronounce a special mother’s blessing on him to keep him safe during his travels – and return him to their home so that he “might join our family again.” Rulon wonders how literally she means join.

As each member of the Brown family shakes his hand in turn to send him on his way that night, Sister Brown has a conniving look in her eye. Like a traditional matchmaker who approaches her role with utmost sincerity, she is already plotting her next move.

~~~~~~~~

Just a few blocks away in the Avenues, Hamp sits across from his father at the dinner table and nervously breaches the subject of a mission – beginning with his financial limitations. Chick proceeds to lay out the family finances, and Hamp is relieved to hear that Chick’s job and the family income seem to be secure for the time being, perhaps opening up the opportunity logistically. But Chick fiercely opposes the idea of a mission and after Mimi leaves them alone, he lets his opinion be clearly known without the slightest room for question. He tries to reason with Hamp about the present economic uncertainty.

“If you volunteer to serve now, you’ll spend three years abroad, return to Salt Lake that much older, and have no academic degree to show for it,” Chick argues, “while at the same time during your extended absence your peers will further their education and already have their foot in the door with any potential employers by the time you return.”

Hamp tries to counter the argument with justification for “life experience,” but his words fall on deaf ears. The endless stream of door-to-door peddlers constantly interrupting their conversation only serves to solidify Chick’s position. Hamp knows all too well that the tell-tale signs of the times are particularly abundant in Salt Lake City: homeless families camped out on vacant lots, long lines outside the new “Hoover Cafe” soup kitchens, and Shoeshine “boys” of every imaginable age. Chick hands Hamp the newspaper just to make sure his point is understood. The statistics in the headlines confirm the shocking impact of the Depression on Utah’s economy, including 50-percent drop in household income, a 35% unemployment rate, and the failure of one third of Utah’s banks.

At the end of the evening, Hamp and Chick both retire from the extended conversation worn out and without resolution. Religious inclinations aside, Chick is obviously not comfortable committing to such a drastic drain on the family’s savings. As Hamp prays that night – lacking the financial backing he knows he will need if he wishes to serve – he feels utter defeat and dejection

The following morning, however, as Chick drives Hamp to the train station to see him off for the summer, he turns to him and says, “Son, I want you to know that the decision is yours. And if you decide to serve a mission – though I can’t tell you I like the idea – you’ll have my full financial support.”

Hamp is flabbergasted and can barely speak as he gives his father a parting bear hug at the Union Pacific station. He settles into the train cabin and waves out the open window as the train struggles for traction. Once out of sight of the station, he pulls out a loose-leaf binder with graph paper and begins to outline some grid patterns with his ruler. The cool morning air is refreshing, but with the train at full speed, Hamp has to close the window to still the fluttering pages. He dives back into his project, mechanically readjusting his future plans by laying out a timeline for himself within the grids. He tries to fit work, schooling, missionary service, and family life into neat little blocks.

Hamp has no idea what Mimi said to Chick that previous night, but he does suspect that her pleas at least played a part in the overwhelming change of heart. Having finally put the dreaded conversation behind him, and, above all, having reached an agreement, Hamp feels a huge load lifted from his shoulders. His plans seem to be neatly falling into place. As the train steams south, though, he realizes he now has an added burden: the decision that might otherwise have been made for him is now his alone to bear.

As Dot’s letters begin to arrive after Hamp’s first week on the job, he weighs thoughts of a mission against their plans for marriage. Will she wait for him, or will a mission mark the end of their relationship? Over the next several weeks, he walks to the rim of the Grand Canyon in solitude each night and pours out his soul to the Lord, trying to discover His will. There is no vision, no sudden stream of inspiration, but slowly, steadily, and precociously, Hamp solidifies his decision to serve a mission.

Once resolved, he writes Dot a heartfelt letter and can sense her simultaneous support and heartbreak when he receives her response a week later. They both feel destined to spend the rest of their lives together, but recognize that he cannot pass up this opportunity. The more he thinks about it, the sooner he wants to go – not just to avoid the risk of Chick rescinding the offer, but so that he and Dot might start a family as soon as possible after he returns. The very next day he drafts a letter to President Grant’s office to request the application materials. When the forms finally arrive with the weekly mail, he rushes through each page and gets the packet back to the postman the very same day.

Weeks pass with Hamp eagerly but nervously awaiting the response; finally a letter arrives from the Office of the First Presidency. Hamp takes it back to his cabin and sets the envelope on his bed. He stares at it for quite some time – then finally says a quick prayer and rips it open.

“Brother Price,” it reads, “you have been called to serve in the German-Austrian Mission. You are to report to the Mission Home November 19, 1930.”

Hamp drops the letter without even reading the rest. “Germany?” he dramatically questions aloud, despite the lack of an audience. He is absolutely shocked! He has never studied a single word of any foreign language, let alone the garbled rhetoric he loves to ridicule when visiting Waldemar’s house. In fact, the only thing he knows about Germany at all is that they make cuckoo clocks and eat funny sandwiches.

He had felt certain that a mission call would return him to his family’s roots in Great Britain, so the call to Germany seems quite an upheaval to him. He wonders for a minute whether President Grant might be playing tricks on him, but then he notices a handwritten note in the envelope. “Your father tells me you’re going to convert the world one country at a time,” the note reads, “Well, once you’re finished with Germany, you can take on Austria without even leaving your mission. Regards - HJG.”

Hamp’s brief grin is quickly washed away by the overwhelming thought of embarking on a strange passage to a foreign land. A vivid picture of the framed photograph on Gordon’s mantel enters his mind. “One country at a time,” he mumbles to himself, “starting with the country that started the World War.” How can he ever serve among the German people, he wonders, without collectively holding their belligerence against them?

“Oh boy, what a life,” he records in his journal that evening, “three years is plenty long to be gone and I surely hope we don’t regret it.” The word “we,” of course, draws his thoughts back to Dot in Salt Lake and drives in the solitude of his surroundings.

Despite the knots in his stomach, each little square on his graph paper gets crossed out less and less sluggishly as the summer winds to a close. The time apart from Dot actually passes rather quickly, and he soon finds himself back in the city making his final mission preparations and spending his hard-earned summer wages.

~~~~~~~~

“Howdy Hamp! Back from the open range, I see,” exclaims Homer as they pass each other on the U’s commons, “How was your train ride?”

“Longest trip I ever took!” Hamp answers, “of course that was just because I wanted to get back to Salt Lake as quickly as possible, not having seen Dot all summer.”

“Well, if you can’t last three months, how are you going to last three years?” asks Homer.

“I don’t know for certain, but this may help me cope.” Hamp points to the sturdy black case he is carrying. “It’s my new acquisition from the school’s publications office.”

“Let’s have a look,” Homer says.

Hamp sets the case down on its side and proudly opens it for display.

“Now that’s a fancy typewriter if I ever saw one,” Homer remarks, “but do you plan on lugging it all over Germany?”

“You bet!” replies Hamp emphatically, “It’s a Royal Portable, after all – made especially for traveling journalists. I’d carry it around the world if it would help me keep up with Dot.”

“Well then you should have bought her one as well,” jokes Homer, “so she can at least type out her Dear John letter to you.”

“Joke about it all you want,” retorts Hamp, “but mark my words, we’ll be married before you even get back from your mission.”

“I’ll take that as a wager,” Homer says, “and if I’m right, you’ll buy me dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town upon my return.”

“And if you’re wrong?” inquires Hamp.

“Then you’ll invite me to a home-cooked, welcome-home meal courtesy of your new bride, of course!” replies Homer.

“So you win either way?” Hamp laughs. “Well that doesn’t sound like much of a deal, but I guess we’ll shake on it anyway,” Hamp consents. “Say, speaking of home-cooked meals, I was hoping you and Gordon would come to my farewell testimonial on Sunday evening. We’ll be having an open house at our home afterwards complete with refreshments.”

“Well…” Homer hesitates.

“Besides,” Hamp continues, “the Toronto boys could use a tenor to turn their trio into a quartet.”

“As much as I’d enjoy singing, unfortunately I’ve already committed to helping Gordon take care of his siblings while his parents are out of town,” says Homer.

“Of course,” says Hamp, a bit disappointed, but understanding of the situation. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Homer shakes his head. “I don’t know what you could do. Except maybe to pray especially hard for them.”

“That I can do,” answers Hamp, feeling a bit helpless. “Well I’m supposed to meet Dot downtown in a few minutes, so I need to get going.”

“Until we meet again, my friend,” says Homer as they part ways with a handshake.

“That’s Auf Wiedersehen, mein Freund,” replies Hamp with the only German phrase he knows, “courtesy of Frau Roth.” He walks off briskly to catch the approaching street car back to the Avenues. Realizing it might be quite a while before he sees Homer again, he turns around and shouts to him, “If you end up getting called to Germany, too, I’ll show you the ropes when you arrive.”

“OK,” Homer yells back, “but wherever I happen to end up, just don’t forget the dinner you’ll owe me when I return.”

Hamp makes a fist in jest and shakes it at Homer as he hops onto the street car.

That Sunday evening, Hamp’s farewell testimonial packs the house in the Ensign Ward chapel. Chick watches from the foyer, feeling too uncomfortable to enter the chapel. The Toronto boys deliver a stirring musical number and the talks touch Hamp deeply. He nervously acknowledges the contributions collected after the service, and well-wishers shake his hand in congratulation.

Mimi hosts an open house for Hamp following the testimonial. Many of his good friends are able to attend, but Homer and Gordon are notably absent. As Hamp munches on the home-baked desserts, he thinks briefly of Rulon and what he might be having for dinner in a sparse missionary apartment in Canterbury. Counting the cash after the last of them has left, Hamp is happy to see that the funds will cover several months of his mission and provide some buffer in the event of further economic woes. He goes to bed satisfied that he has made the right decision and happy to have the support of his family and friends.

The next day, as has been the case with all of Mimi’s prior social gatherings, the local newspaper carries the story of his reception party along with the minutest details of the event.

Two weeks later, Hamp enters the mission home next door to the Lion House for a long day of orientation. This special course of training, as it is referred to in his mission call, is intended to answer questions about what to expect from the next 33 months. There are no discussions to memorize, and there is no language training to be had – those lessons will come in the trenches.

Hamp’s head is spinning by the time he emerges from the mission home late that afternoon; though he feels woefully unprepared, he looks forward to telling his parents of the day’s events. But when Chick enters the house after his own long day, he has a somber look on his face.

Around the dinner table, he breaks some awful news to his family: “Sister Ada passed away last night, and the whole Hinckley family is an absolute wreck over it.”

Ada had been undergoing cancer treatment in California for some time, but it had become a losing battle and she finally succumbed to the persistent growth of her tumors.

“What a tragedy for them!” blurts Hamp. He is shocked at the news, but he knows that it has been imminent.

“I reckon we all knew it was coming,” continues Chick, “but when you think of those motherless children, it still seems so much worse than anyone could have imagined.”

Hamp looks at his two little sisters – who are about the same age as Gordon’s siblings – and imagines them without their mother.

“Hamp,” Chick adds, interrupting his emotional journey, “I’ll be assisting with the arrangements at the depot tomorrow if you can help me.”

“Sure Dad,” agrees Hamp with tears beginning to form in his eyes. He finishes his dinner as quickly as he can manage, then hurries to the Hinckley home to offer his condolences. Seeing the long line of well-wishers that has formed around the house, however, he changes course and returns home.

Early the next morning, Hamp accompanies his father to the railroad depot. Chick, dressed in a dark suit, unlocks the door to a room Hamp had never noticed before. A lump forms in Hamp’s throat as he enters the room and looks around at the black drapery, caskets stood on end, and other items reserved for such somber occasions. The Union Pacific does not want a casket to appear as an ordinary piece of baggage, so when a rail car serves as a hearse, one of Chick’s duties is to ensure that the proper tone is set when the train rolls into the station.

As Hamp watches Chick scurry around to fulfill his duties, he begins to ponder his own parents’ mortality. What would he do if he lost one of them? Hamp’s gaze focuses on the cigarette between Chick’s fingers. He wants to tell his father so many things, the first of which would be to boldly call him to repentance; he is about to embark on a mission, after all. As he weighs the heartfelt boldness against the potential perception of overbearance, his thoughts are interrupted by a train whistle. Chick puts out his cigarette and moves quickly among the crowd, coaching the pallbearers and making sure the path to the hearse is cleared.

Chick checks his pocket watch. A trail of steam punctually appears on the southern horizon and begins to grow. The steam engine stops just shy of the station. Chick walks along the tracks and climbs aboard to make sure the appropriate arrangements are in place. Once he is assured that all due solemnity has been achieved, the train inches forward into the depot. Hamp watches from the platform as the engine sighs its final breath for the day.

Gordon is in a trance as he, his brothers, and half-brothers march in step and solemnly slide the casket into the hearse. Hamp gives Gordon a nod as he passes but can’t think of anything to say to him. Thoughts are flying around in Gordon’s head, but – fearing the pain and confusion that would accompany any real contemplation – he refuses to let them land. Until this week, he had been considering interrupting his schooling to serve a mission. Running away to a foreign land seems almost tempting at the moment, and he envies Hamp in a way for having the opportunity to escape the reality of their immediate surroundings. But with a motherless lot of children at home, the urgency of a mission seems to wane. Any previously made plans are now up in the air.

The next two days are a hazy daze as preparations for the funeral are made. Hamp and Homer do what they can to help the Hinckleys. The outpouring of support from the rest of the community is almost overwhelming and certainly makes their efforts seem futile in comparison.

Ada is laid to rest on a dreary Thursday afternoon, with ominous November skies signaling the onset of a harsh winter. Hamp looks around at the crowd but recognizes few faces; the sight of the children at the graveside is too much for most to bear, and the mourners’ faces are obscured by their hats as they stare at the ground. Like others in the crowd, Hamp’s thoughts are in the next world.

Still caught up in that spirit, Hamp enters the Salt Lake Temple for the first time in his young life early the following morning. He is used to going to Church without his father, but Chick’s absence has never been felt more strongly than in this sacred setting. As he sits in the Celestial Room, pondering the eternities with Mimi at his side, the void pierces him to the very soul. He contemplates the symbolism around him and focuses on the circles and swastikas – which are taking on a new, sinister meaning in his destination half a world away – inscribed into the meticulous etching. Knowing the sealing ordinance to be a vital component of an eternal round, any way he thinks about it, the ring appears broken without his father’s presence.

He leaves the temple full of resolve to somehow alter the situation, but also with the knowledge that his departure date looms just a week away, and that any change of heart is likely to be a long-term prospect. Nonetheless, as he makes his final preparations and checks the remaining days off his calendar, he begins to notice a change in his father’s countenance. The initial opposition had given way to tacit support that has now transformed even further into an almost palatable excitement about Hamp’s mission. Chick even takes a few days off work to accompany Hamp to the commercial district and shop for supplies.

On the final day before Hamp’s scheduled departure, Chick gets involved even more closely in the preparations and can’t seem to stop talking about what Hamp might expect to accomplish in Germany. He recounts stories his own friends have told him about their adventures as pioneering missionaries in the Polynesian Islands and other far corners of the world and wonders aloud what he might have missed by not serving himself. Hamp even gets the feeling that Chick is actually jealous and may end up trying to fill the void by living Hamp’s mission in proxy with him.

One by one, Hamp checks the last items off his shopping list: suits and suitcases, neckties and knickers, golashes and slickers; all are stacked neatly on his bedroom floor. As he finishes packing on his final night in Salt Lake, he lines up his luggage and imagines himself carting the whole set around Europe for three years. He tries picking up all of the pieces together to see how he might fare, but to no avail. With a knapsack on his back, a suitcase in one hand and a briefcase under his arm, he can carry the trunk or the typewriter with his remaining free hand, but not both. If he intends to keep his correspondence typewritten, it appears that his mobilization will be a two-man job. Margaret pokes her head in the door and laughs at the sight.

“What’s so funny?” asks Hamp.

“Well, maybe you’ll need me to come along as your porter,” she says, trying in vain to help him lift the heavy trunk.

“Well, you already know Europe better than I do,” replies Hamp in jest, “so I may need you as a navigator as well.”

Assuming the family income can be sustained, Mimi and Margaret are planning to take a mother-daughter trip to meet Hamp in Berlin at the conclusion of his mission – after which they all will tour the continent together. Margaret has already mapped out their itinerary on a large map that hangs on her bedroom wall, and she has memorized every detail.

“I’m really going to miss you,” Margaret blurts out with a bit of embarrassment. She turns away and runs back to the kitchen to help Mimi with the dishes. Hamp places his luggage back on the floor. Though he hadn’t had a chance to respond to Margaret, he wipes a tear from his eye and realizes the feeling is mutual.

The next morning, Chick heaves the large trunk into the baggage car at the depot. Dot had arrived early, hoping to share a few moments with Hamp, but the chaotic scene, with friends and family all trying to get his gear to the right car, leaves no room for any privacy.

Hamp waves adieu from his cabin window. Long after the shout of “all aboard,” Dot is still aboard herself and almost has to be carried off the train by the conductor to avoid being taken along. Full of tears, she finally tears herself away from Hamp and waves back at him from the platform.

The whistles echo through the station and off the surrounding mountain peaks. Dot watches the train steam north toward Ogden until the smoke trail joins the clouds swirling around the mountains overhead. Hamp watches the same clouds disappear along the horizon behind him, lost in his thoughts and intimidated by the adventure ahead.

~~~~~~~~

The train nears the historical transcontinental railroad route through Ogden. To the west lies the new cutoff across the Great Salt Lake that rendered the Promontory Point route obsolete. A switchman pulls the lever, and Hamp’s train steams off in the opposite direction, winding its way east and up the challenging grade, climbing through Weber Canyon and Echo Canyon to reach the top of the Wasatch Mountains. Passing the lonely UP station at Wahsatch, the locomotive gets a brief, downhill respite on its route toward the Continental Divide. Though night has fallen by the time they reach this milestone, Hamp still has Dot on his mind, a lump in his throat, and a hole in his heart. The train begins its long descent into the Missouri River Basin with a howling wind blowing along the North Platte. As the Rocky Mountains melt into the Great Plains, Hamp stares at his rail ticket, personally punched by his father: “Destination: New York City.”

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