Too Many Letters From Home Only Serve to Distract a Missionary's Mind From His Misery
BY ROBERT KIRBY - SALT LAKE TRIBUNE COLUMNIST
If one (or more) of your kids is leaving on an LDS mission soon, don't bother getting them a
laptop as a way of maintaining contact. Last month, the LDS Church announced that
missionaries will no longer be allowed, with rare exceptions, to correspond with their families
via e-mail or facsimiles.
So, in a world of instant access, missionaries and their families must continue to rely on the
postal service. In some parts of the world, this still means donkeys, sled dogs, smoke signals and
messages in bottles.
Bottom line is that if your missionary gets sent somewhere even remotely far away, count on
hearing from him or her about every other week. Unless, of course, it's Canada. Then it could be
every other month with the letter `r' in it, eh?
All of this is for a very good reason, which, unfortunately for many of you, will only become
apparent in the next life. Those more in tune know that this orthodox stand on communication is
intended to prevent missionaries from being distracted by mail from home.
Though it may surprise you, I agree. When you've been eating bugs, battling amoebic
dysentery and living cheek to cheek with someone you would rather see in a bag at the bottom of
a river, messages of love and support from home can be very distracting.
I know this because I went on a mission long before the advent of e-mail. Virtually all
correspondence with my family was done via air mail, although the government sometimes used
a boat if the plane crashed. Which it apparently did. A lot.
Each letter home from South America took two weeks and 6.5 million pesos in stamps. In
fact, some days it was more stamp than letter. I can't vouch for the letters my family sent me
because I'm pretty sure I didn't get half of them.
As for the letters I did get, some had been mauled by animals, while one or two others were
partially burned. Also, I once forked over $25 to "help" a package clear customs, only to find out
that it was a small birthday card.
This is still better than Elder Mutz. Nineteen months after his girlfriend mailed it, he received
the wedding announcement that finally cleared up the mystery as to why she hadn't been
answering his letters.
That's the drawback with snail mail. The lag time can be a killer (literally). What you get to
know isn't always in keeping with what you need to know. Which, come to think of it, is why the
Information Age was born.
Parents: "Do you need anything, son?"
Elder: "Please send soap and mosquito repellent."
Parents: "Be sure to tell us if you need anything."
Elder: "I really could use some anti-venin and a bear trap."
Parents: "We are so proud of you. Can we send you anything?"
Elder: "Please, a revolver. I'm begging you."
Parents: "Finally got your letter, dear. Don't worry, we are sending plenty of dandruff shampoo
. . . ."
Granted, it's not always that bad. Sometimes the only thing wrong is that the news is outdated.
That's OK because, frankly, it's hard to serve God in South America when you really would
rather be back in Utah killing your little brother for wrecking your truck.
If there's one thing mission correspondence taught me, it's that nothing is more conducive to
keeping the spirit than being kept in the dark.
Salt Lake Tribune columnist Robert Kirby lives in Springville. The self-described
"OxyMormon" welcomes mail at P.O. Box 684, Springville, UT 84663, or e-mail at
rkirby@sltrib.com.