On the sweetness of Mormon life. You have heard that the Bishop wants you to put together a ward campout.  you jot a few notes.  One of them–give a young man the charge of running a night game of ninja, capture the flag, or sardines in a can.  You relish the names of these games.

After the speaker, a father and son come to the satnad to sing a hymn.  the father–muscled, sinewy, a flat-topped state trooper.  The son–prissy, self-possessed, groomed.  The sing one of the old American folk hymns.  Your ward chorister, a  high-school girl, accompanies on her flute.  At the end, the two  men are both smiling and crying.  You too.