Sunday was Pioneer Day in Utah, a holiday that commemorates the pioneers, many of them immigrants, who converted to Mormonism and then traveled across the plains to arrive in Utah and build up the Mormon church there. I’ve actually never been to any Pioneer Day Celebrations. (I’d love to hear details on celebrations from any Utah readers.) I am completely Mormon pioneer stock (well, ok, one 19th century ancestor joined the church late enough to be able to ride the train to Utah), but I grew up on the East Coast.
Pioneer Day Parade in Salt Lake City in 1897
Most of my ancestors converted to the Church in Europe, and their trek included the Atlantic Ocean as well as the plains. As I’ve been thinking about them, what I am most impressed by is the fact that these people left their countries in Europe to come all the way to America for a new religion. Not only did they leave their former religions behind, but they also left their homes and families. I am in America and Mormon today because of them.
Each generation has to make its own decisions, however. I’ve always been grateful to my maternal grandfather for his part. His father was an alcoholic, and he spent much of his childhood alone herding sheep. His family did not go to church despite living in Cedar City, Utah. He attended seminary in high school for an easy grade and had some exposure to the Church then. During WWII he served in the navy. Once he started active duty, however, he realized he got terribly seasick, and this led him to leave the service as soon as he could. He got horribly drunk at a farewell party but managed to make it to the train home. He spent the night smoking and playing cards with some other military men. The next day he found himself seated across from a woman and her children who he knew he had kept up the night before. Yet she was very friendly and talked about being a member of the Church. She and her kids had been to see her husband who was serving in the South Pacific. She talked about how grateful she was that they were an eternal family and that she was sealed to her husband. They talked all day about the gospel as my grandfather played with her children.
My grandfather realized that he wanted what this woman had. From that day on, he never smoked or drank again. He went back to Cedar City and talked to his bishop. He turned his life around. Later he met and convinced my grandmother, a wonderfully sweet woman, to marry him; they were sealed in the temple. My grandfather was always an austere man, which I’ve always put down to his rough upbringing, but I am grateful to him for his decision and its impacts on my mother and my family.
Who do you see as a modern pioneer? I would love to hear your stories.