It Takes A Community

It has been said that it takes a community to raise a child. That is a concept with which I agree. The community I was born to and raised in had the picturesque name of Riverdale and it was true to its name. It had been a farming community for the most part, until after World War II when many new families began moving in to make it their home. Our town had one L.D.S. (Mormon) church called the Riverdale Ward. Just up the hill from the church was the old, original Riverdale Elementary School. There were just a few businesses and two drive-in theaters. We were a rural suburb of the larger city of Ogden, situated to the east across the river and railroad tracks. Ours was a patriotic little town which celebrated Independence Day each year with a Forth of July parade which passed by our church and ended at the school. Most of the children who owned bicycles would decorate them with red, white and blue crepe paper wound through the spokes and streaming from the handle bars. They would proudly peddle past the waving and cheering onlookers with big smiles, following the bright red fire truck and brightly polished cars of the mayor and other dignitaries. As I said, the original settlers were farmers and fruit growers. We had cherry and peach orchards on the hill top above and to the west of our home and broad fields to the east stretching to the river and watered by an irrigation ditch across the street below our home. There was a feeling of peacefulness and safety and a true sense of community among the inhabitants of our little town. Our neighbors to the south, Sedley and Cleo Brough, lived in an old farm house with high ceilings and had a few farm animals. We purchased raw, fresh milk from them which we carried up the hill in one-gallon glass jugs. We bottled peaches which we purchased from neighbors up the hill to the west of us. We also bottled and preserved other locally grown produce. The adult couples who lived near us had interesting names like Ken & Cleoma, Floyd & Coral, Gail & Dorris, Dahl & Birdeen, Faye & Verla and others just as unique. I hold all their memories dear. Everyone knew everyone else because we all went to the same church together and the kids went to the same school. There was only one class for each grade and only 20-25 kids in each class. We called every adult Brother or Sister so and so (filling in the appropriate surname). We almost never called anyone Mr. or Mrs. except for school teachers or people we did not know. The success of an individual brought pleasure to the others and the tragedy or sorrow of one family was shared by others in the community also. We all worked together to upgrade our old church building when I was a child although I was too young to do anything but observe. All the church leaders and teachers were our neighbors and were all volunteers. Everyone had something to contribute for the good of the whole. We were taught duty, honor and accountability from our earliest childhood. In our church, we fasted the first Sunday of each month and donated the money not spent on our meals to help provide food, clothing and shelter to those of our neighbors who were in need. We also tithed a tenth of our income to support the expenses and growth of the church throughout the world. Even children were taught to do this. On one day of the week, as soon as school let out, we children walked down the hill to our church to attend Primary. Primary was an organization for children which was run by the women of the church, including widows, single women and mothers. We learned songs like "I am a Child of God" and "Tell me the Stories of Jesus." Then we divided up into age groups for lessons from the scriptures and to learn the importance of kindness, virtue and other Christ-like attributes. We also memorized our articles of faith and the boys began participating in the Boy Scout program On Sundays, the older boys and men went to priesthood meeting in the morning. Then the whole family would come for Sunday School. The adults and older children gathered first in the chapel for combined worship and the learning of hymns. Everyone also had the opportunity (assignment) to stand at the pulpit and give a two and one half minute talk once or twice a year. The younger children went to Jr. Sunday School downstairs. We also learned songs and gave short talks. I gave my first talk before I had learned to read, so my mother drew little stick figures depicting the story of the little children who went to see Jesus and were almost turned away until Jesus told his disciples to let them come "for of such is the kingdom of heaven." The talk turned out so well that I was asked to give the same talk the next week upstairs in the chapel for the big people to hear. That is how my public speaking experience began After Sunday School was over, we went home for our Sunday family dinner. Each of us boys had our assigned duty preparing the dinner. I became the gravy specialist. I would sift the weevil out of the flour (it seemed like we always had weevil in the flour) and put the flour in a bowl with some water. Then I used the "ploompety-ploomper" to bend it together and eliminate the lumps in order to thicken the drippings from the meat and make the gravy. Our traditional Sunday dinner was roast beef, potatoes and gravy and a vegetable. After an afternoon rest, we returned to the church around six o'clock for Sacrament Meeting. The main purpose of this meeting was for all the members of the congregation to receive the "sacrament of the Lord's supper," known more commonly as just "the sacrament." This holy ordinance was administered to the congregation in remembrance of the body and blood of Jesus Christ which was sacrificed for all mankind. It was administered by the Aaronic Priesthood holders who were ordained young men between the ages of twelve and nineteen. Deacons of age twelve and thirteen passed the sacrament to the congregation. Teachers of the age fourteen and fifteen prepared the emblems and trays of the sacrament before the meeting and cleared it up after the meeting. Priests of age sixteen to nineteen broke the bread and offered the sacramental prayers. I grew up watching my older brothers do all of these duties with respect and dignity. I was eager to follow their example After the sacrament was passed to all the congregation, the rest of the meeting was devoted to the singing of hymns and listening to talks or sermons. These were longer than those given in Sunday School and were delivered by visiting church leaders and by members of our own congregation, including youth. When a young man or woman was leaving to be a missionary for the church, the departing missionary always spoke in church along with other family members and friends. I remember the great excitement and celebratory feeling of our Riverdale ward members when my two eldest brothers, Jim and Bill, spoke in our church before leaving on their two and one half year missions to Finland and Germany. I was still very young, but I knew this was a very significant event in the lives of my brothers and for our whole family. The cost of supporting two missionaries at the same time and providing for the rest of us still at home was a real test of faith and commitment for my parents. Our family was not unique in sending out missionaries. Many more missionaries left from our ward both before and after my brothers. When the Viet Nam war escalated, each ward (congregation) was allowed to send only two young men per year on missions for the church because the nation needed all the young men to be soldiers. In fact, as soon as Jim and Bill returned from their 30 month missions for the church, they had no choice but to enlist in military service or to be drafted. The transition from a highly spiritual experience to the vulgarities of war was very hard on them. It was hard on our family too! I hoped and prayed the war would end before I came of age to go. The families in our little town helped one another through all of these experiences and events. All of us learned from each other through sharing our lives together. Since all the "old people" I knew were good and kind, I believed it to be the natural result of aging. It saddened me to learn at a later age that this is not always so. People who don't live this kind of life sometimes grow up to be bitter, mean and selfish. I have spent my life living among people trying to be "Latter-Day Saints." Terry Stephens