[1]Sounds
like you had a fun weekend. I've been thinking about those old traditions that
have died. Glad there are new ones.[2] It seems weird to me that
it was almost two and four years ago that my grandparents died. My whole senior
year doesn't seem that long ago because I was anticipating my mission, but it
started two years ago![3] Even though I've been out
almost ten months I still feel like I just started my mission.
Boston, huh?[4] You sure are taking a lot
of vacations since I left. Then again, in a way I'm taking a consistent two
year vacation, except most of it is work. Last week we went to Rocky Reach Dam
with some members to observe salmon swimming up the Columbia River through a
series of fish ladders, 100 small pools that gradually climb upward. It was
funny because we went in to the visitors' center and some people came upstairs.
I was thinking about what they must think to see us, but they said, "Oh,
the missionaries are here," and they were actually visiting from Salt
Lake. I think another person who was there that day thought we worked there,
because he kept asking us questions, but he didn't seem altogether there.
That's actually not all too uncommon; we frequently have people at the store
asking us where stuff is, and we don't know any more than they do.
Don't get your hopes up too much for Mexico with my Spanish,[5] although the little I know
has come in handy in this fruit-picking area. I don't know enough to teach or
to understand when they go off, but when tracting I know enough to get permission
for the Spanish elders to go back.[6] I always have a hard time
talking at doorsteps, but I become the only speaker when the resident doesn't
speak English. (It's not as easy in Spokane; I once tracted an entire street
where everyone spoke Russian.)
I don't get to watch TV, but I did get to watch Nature
without a screen this week. The bushes and shrubs of Wenatchee Valley are
always covered with nets of cobwebs. When walking down the road I frequently
take a diversion by looking for the little arachnids lying in wait in small
tunnels on their webs. This week while taking such a diversion I noticed a
miniature bee or something struggling in a web while the yellowish-tan spider
watched nearby. It gradually got closer until it finally jumped on top of it and
bit it. Then it began circling around it, I assume to reinforce its web. The
bee stopped moving and the spider kept getting on top of it, but after a few
minutes we learned that the bee was only playing dead. The pattern of the
spider getting on top and the bee playing dead then trying to escape continued
for a few minutes. Eventually the bee escaped out the bottom, but fell into a
lower web, where an even bigger spider darted out, bit it, ran back to its
tunnel, darted back out and bit it again, and hid again. The bee was no longer
moving and the spider was missing when we finally left. It was amazing.
This week we began teaching an old lady who is kind of
lonely. She is very friendly and very Episcopalian, but she has two
granddaughters who married RMs in the temple, so she wants to learn about the
Church to know how to interact with her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
She was concerned that she has four great-grandchildren ages 1-5 who aren't
baptized.
And while I am delighted to see the leaf-strewn lawns, I am
not happy to feel the hot of the afternoon. I thought that was supposed to end
once I could start thinking about Halloween.[7]
Love,
Elder Melville
P.S. Some elders have caught glimpses of your letters to me,
and find the adjective "cute" quite humorous.[8]
[2]
When I was growing up, we would always go camping in Fillmore on Labor Day
weekend. My parents wrote to me that they had gone camping in Maple Grove near
Scipio.
[3]
I think it’s funny I thought two years was a long time—now two years is
nothing.
[4]
My parents foolishly bought a timeshare. My mom wrote, “We may try to use our
time share in Boston this spring because we have to use it before June or we lose
it.” But they didn’t end up going to Boston.
[5]
My mom wrote, “Dad and I have talked about going to Mexico to use our time
share because we can't find places we want to use around here. We decided to wait until after you come home,
though. It would be fun to have you come
with us because your Spanish would come in handy. So plan on seeing old ruins there sometime
after you come home.” But they (we) never visited Mexico.
[6]
I took four years of Spanish in high school. I was surprised to get called on an
English-speaking mission with all my language experience. On one occasion, my
mission president asked if anyone knew some Spanish in case there were ever
openings. I told him I knew some, but I never served in a Spanish area.
[7]
When I was in first grade, I was eager to put out Halloween decorations. My mom
said I could do it on September 15, and that’s been my arbitrary date ever
since.
[8]
My mom started my email with “Dear Cute Mark.” My district leader thought that
was funny. An earlier companion had seen a similar letter opening and was
amused. A year after my mission, I visited a branch with my parents, and I
heard my mom introduce us by saying “Our cute son served here,” and she didn’t
even realize it.
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