Kirby: Despite Flushing My Pet Turtle, Maybe Elder Adolph Was the Best Companion I Ever Had
Saturday, January 22, 2000
BY ROBERT KIRBY SALT LAKE TRIBUNE COLUMNIST
Bammer's youngest son got his LDS mission call last week. Because Bammer didn't go on a mission -- being at the time deep in jail -- he sent Buddy to me for missionary advice.
This is not as bad of an idea as it sounds. I enjoyed 68 percent of my mission to South America. I hated (worse than broccoli) 13 percent of it. Thanks to assorted fevers and injuries, I don't remember the other 19 percent.
First, I showed Buddy some pictures of mission life, including the uncensored ones of Elder Mutz in the shower after the leeches got him. These made Buddy nervous enough to ponder aloud the convenience of becoming an atheist.
Just when I thought he had all the mission advice he could stand, Buddy asked what I hated most about my mission. Was it the horrible living conditions? Persecution by locals? Mindless rules? Cholera? Animal bites?
Correct answer: "Another missionary."
For reasons that may boil down to nothing more than seeing what it takes to drive a 19-year-old kid insane, an LDS missionary can never be alone. He has to have a companion.
Unfortunately, missionaries don't get to pick their companions. This part gets done in the mission office, where, if things go horribly wrong later, they can claim that the Spirit made them to do it.
Being stuck on the other side of the Earth from people who care about you isn't so bad if your companion is cool. But it's downright horrible if his frontal lobes belong inside a Bell jar at some major university.
According to my mission president, how we got along with our companions would have a direct bearing on how we turned out later in life. Wait, he may have been right.
Anyway, I told Buddy about the eight weeks, four days, 13 hours and 23 minutes I spent in Nalgas de Vaca with Elder Adolf. If he still goes on a mission now, I'll bet he takes a gun.
Most of the companions I served with were normal, if not actually fun to be around. Until I got Elder Adolf, the worst was Elder Leeper, who chewed with his mouth open and spoke Spanish with such an atrocious Utah accent that he might as well have been speaking Romanian.
Then I got Elder Adolf, a district leader whose idea of serving his fellow man consisted entirely of refining obedience to the point of serious neurosis. It took four minutes for us to hate each other's guts.
Him: "I believe in getting up 30 minutes earlier that the handbook says."
Me: "And I believe that you're an idiot."
Adolf also demanded that we knock on doors an extra hour every night. But since the rules required that companions remain together, and he wasn't big enough to make me remain with him after 11 p.m., we didn't.
Because missionaries aren't allowed pets, Adolf flushed my turtle Eleventh Nephi down the toilet. After which, most of his books and clothes accidentally fell down our well.
Eventually, we settled into an uneasy peace. Adolf prayed for me, and I prayed that he would leave me alone. I think this is all God expected of us, because, shortly before we hurt each other, the Spirit told the mission president to split us up.
Today, Adolf has 10 kids and is a tax attorney for the federal government.
I'm a professional troublemaker.
If what the mission president said was true, maybe Adolf and I had more influence on each other than we really know. Maybe we were the best companions each other ever had.
Page Modified January 26, 2000