Sweet Little Lena Bena

Our second daughter, Lena Marie, always seemed to have a smile and a twinkle in her eye. She was the Little Mother who took take of her little brothers even though was was a baby herself.

Truth and Faith in Cancer Ordeal

This paper was an assignment for Professor Bradford's Sociology class, which was much like a religion class with a sociology basis.

Sociology Class Assignment, 1970

   On Sept. 1, 1970, I was laying in a hospital bed in Salt Lake City and thinking about life and the many things I had learned and experienced in my 20 years on Earth. On the next day, I was to go through an experience that would change my life in every way.

   As the staff wheeled me back into my room after a very  serious operation,  I  realized  that  if I could  see below my waist, I would find only one leg where there had been two only hours earlier.

What does a person think about when he knows he has cancer, when he knows he must lose one of his legs, when he knows there is a possibility that he will die?

   Only a week earlier, I was a patient in a different hospital in the little country of Costa Rica when the doctor and my mission president, Milton E. Smith, explained, through the sad silence, that I would be going home the next morning by  jet airline so the doctors back state-side could work on me.

   At that time, neither really explained the seriousness of the situation. But after I had arrived in Utah and the doctor who had been retained by the church had examined the X-ray, my knee and some tissue samples, he said – quite frankly – "You know we'll have to amputate your leg.” He also said that if the operation was success­ful, it would stop any cancer from spreading to other parts of my body by eliminating the part of the body in which it was growing.

   Three days elapsed before the operation while I, mentally and spiritually, sought the strength I would need.

   In prayer that first night, I called on God to please give me strength and understanding – and to help me through this challenging situation. To give me the faith I needed. This strength and help did come, while all those around me were happily surprised by my attitude and happy spirit.

   Following the operation, I realized that without the help of God, without the realization that God lives,   without the assurance that I will resurrect in a more perfect state, I think I would have cursed, life and   damned the Heavens, while sinking into a bottomless despair.

   This is the most important goal in our mortal life: "To know God and his Son Jesus Christ. I know that they live and that they love us and will help us if we will have faith in them. What a glorious thing it is to know that life does not end here on earth and that at the time of resurrection, I will once again be able to run and jump on two firm legs.

   During this trial, when the thoughts of a future death did come into my mind, I  felt that, though I had lived only 20 years, I had accomplished things  and  done things that made me feel as though 1 had had a complete life. (I was probably very wrong, but that is how I felt.)

   Don't think I felt I had conquered all evil, because I hadn't nor have I yet. But I did feel calm. The one thing I knew I lacked was to be married in the Temple of the Lord.

   I also felt happy that I didn’t wait until I was older to become active in everything but that I had been   constantly active in doing things, what I felt were worthwhile.

   Also, I had been on a mission and had felt that joy that comes to a person when he sees one, to whom he has brought the message of the restored gospel, excel in his life.

   If I were to name the most important values in life, I would point to God and to a Christ-like life to be the goal in one’s life while always doing those things that are good and helping others try to reach that same goal.

The Inevitable

     When I wrote this short story, back in 1972, I used a lot of my experiences and memories.
The ending is one of the logical outcomes that I envisioned for myself.

The Inevitable

     At seven o'clock, the LDS Hospital nurse tells the couple they can go in.

     Darrell, maybe 27 years old and about six feet tall, is a husky construction worker whose firm powerful hands, tanned to a smooth brown during long hours working under the sun, tightly holds his wife’s small, delicate hand.

     As they pass the nurses counter, the young mother of three quietly murmurs, "Why?"

     Shelley, who has dark brown hair that is set in large sagging curls, normally has a smile and sweet words for everyone. Today she’s just somber.

     Looking up at Darrell, her watery blue eyes meet his.

     Approaching room 309, they hesitate, glance at each other and then push open the large, wooden door and enter.

     The small room has a large, metal-framed bed in the middle. To the left, the August sun shines through a narrow oblong window as the wind whips a lose screen against the pane.

     The walls are a barren white. There’s a half-empty cup of water and a water pitcher on a small table to the left of the bed. White sheets cover all but the face and arm of the young man lying quietly in the large bed.

     As the couple enters, the young man smiles and, for a moment, he seems well – except for his chalk-white face.

     "It's about time. I was beginning to wonder," Mike Norton says in greeting his visitors.

     "The nurse wouldn't let us in," Darrell answers.

     "She sure is good looking," Mike says. I asked her to marry me and my wooden leg when I get out of here."

     "What . . . what did she say," Darrell hesitantly asks.

     "What they all say when I'm joking – sure," Mike laughs.

     He must have laughed too hard because he begins coughing.

     Catching his breath for a moment, "Those white blood cells are really battling." Then he coughs again and again.

     Darrell and Shelley move closer. Mike reaches out and grabs Darrell’s hand, and Darrell holds tight.

     Mike, Darrell's younger brother, is short and was once a little chubby with fleshy cheeks that made him look a lot like a chipmunk. Now, his cheeks are gaunt and pale. His hazel eyes, though circled by storm clouds, still have a sparkle.

     Mike has lost ten pounds since entering the hospital three days earlier. He mentions it to his brother, then adds: "When I was in the hospital back in ‘70, I lost about 25 pounds – in two hours!" As he speaks, he pats the empty space where his left leg should have been.

     Mike looks at his sister-in-law, and Shelley forces a smile.

     Forty-five minutes slowly pass, punctuated by long stretches of silence, as they chat about the past – mostly about Mike and Darrell’s hunting trips with their father.

     When Patricia, Mike’s young blonde nurse, enters carrying a syringe, Mike moans: "Not again!"

     "Again," Patricia says. "Where this time?"

     Mike points to his right thigh.

     As Patricia moves closer, he adds, "I bet it's morphine. I'll be a drug addict when I get out of here."

     Patricia says nothing as she drives the needle into Mike’s thigh, injects the drug, removes the syringe and quickly leaves the room.

     Five minutes later, the drug begins its work.

     "Just what I need, sleep! Here we have a few minutes, Mike says, and I can't keep my eyes open."

     "Go ahead and sleep. We'll stay as long as we can," Shelley says.

     Darrell, now sitting in a chair up close to Mike’s bed, holds tight to Mike's hand as his little brother seems to sleep. Darrell and Shelley exchange glances as Shelley takes a seat in the corner of the room.

     "I can't believe it," Mike thinks, "Why me? Where -- how did it begin? Remember . . . .

     "President, got a minute?” Mike asks as he leans on the door frame leading into President Smith’s mission office in San Jose, Costa Rica.

      “Sure,” President Smith answers as he beckons Elder Norton into his office.

     “It's my leg,” Mike tells his mission president. It isn't any better. I can hardly stand on it. Do you think I should go see a doctor? I’m thinking it might be a re-injury to my knee that I banged up in a snow-tubing accident about three years ago.”

     “Maybe you ought to, Elder. You’ve been hobbling around for way too long. Go see a doctor as soon as you can get an appointment. You need to get back to your missionary work."

     "July 7, 1970, was the first operation," Mike remembers.

     "You'll be out of here in a couple of days," encourages Dr. Steinworth, Mike's Costa Rican German doctor. Dr. Steinworth received his medical degrees in the United States before setting up his practice as a bone specialist in his native San Jose.

     "I'll never figure out what made me go to a bone doctor,” Mike half thinks, half dreams. “Usually any doctor would have been all right.”

     For a moment, Mike’s back in his LDS Hospital room with Darrell and Shelley where all that breaks the silence is the beeping monitor behind Mike’s head – that, and an occasional slight bang as the loose screen slaps against the window pane.

     Through the still, Darrell keeps a firm grip on Mike's hand.

     Quickly, Mike’s mind is back in Costa Rica and the memories of his last two months there in San Jose.

     "'Oh it hurts –I can't stand it,” Mike remembers himself yelling at one point in his post-surgery “recovery.”

     “You won't believe it,” he recalls writing in his diary. “I stayed in the hospital for a week after the first operation when they removed a broken cartilage – from that tubing accident – and three weeks later, July 29, I was back in again. What luck!

     “Elder Galan, my companion at the time, got a call and needed to go meet someone downtown. I didn't want him to go alone, so I limped along leaning on a cane. My hand went numb.

      “After getting off the bus at the downtown plaza, we had to cross a street, which was maybe 30 yards wide. The light was in our favor, but it also favored the guy in the Jeep Land Rover, who sped around the corner, heading straight at us. Elder Galan jumped out of the way, but when I tried, I twisted up my bad left leg. I ended up with my hands on the front of the Rover. The pain in my knee shot through me, and I began to fall apart. The driver of the Rover took me to the hospital – all the while listing to me moaning and crying like a baby. It was the worst pain I think I've ever experienced. Finally after arriving at the hospital and waiting what seemed like hours, someone gave me a pain injection and it quickly began to do its job. Then, after rolling me all over the corridors in a wheelchair, I ended up on the X-ray table."

     "My old friend the X-ray table," Mike says, startling Darrell.

     "What about the X-ray table," Darrell asks.

     "Ah, nothing,” Mike mumbles. “I was just thinking." Mike quickly falls back into his memories.

     "Dr. Steinworth finally came, and I just held tight to his arm. Three days later, they released me and I spent a week laying around at Dona Marta’s home. What a nice lady – fed me in bed."

     "That was the last entry I made in my missionary journal," Mike recalls.

     "You'll have to leave now," Patricia tells Mike’s visitors as she enters with a new pitcher of ice water.

     "He's sleeping," Darrell quietly tells the nurse.

     "You better leave. You should be able to see him tomorrow," Patricia suggests.

     Darrell releases his grip for the first time and quietly walks out with Shelley. Patricia sets the ice water pitcher on the tray next to Mike's bed. She then notices him looking up at her.

     "You weren't asleep," she asks, already knowing the answer.

     She stands at his side with her fingers curled around the bed rail, pausing for a moment in thought.

     "When did you know you had cancer," her eyes ask? But without asking or getting an answer, she turns and walks out.

     "When was it," Mike asks himself. "The third time I went into the hospital in San Jose – or was it later?"

     Mike remembers Dr. Steinworth saying, "I think it's either infection or some form of cancer — benign or malignant. You'll have to be admitted today so we can find out for sure.”

     Mike beckons back the memory and even the date, Aug. 22, 1970, when President Smith and Dr. Steinworth came into his San Jose hospital room. It was three days after the exploratory surgery to determine whether the cancer was malignant. From the look on their faces, it wasn’t Christmastime.

     “We're going to fly you home tomorrow so the doctors in Salt Lake can take care of you,” President Smith told Mike. The next day he was headed home.

     “Let me remove those two arm rests between the seats so you can stretch out," said the slender airline hostess with a permanent smile as Mike hobbled down the aisle aboard the airliner that took him on the second leg of the trip – from Miami to Chicago – of a 12-hour flight from San Jose to Salt Lake City.

     "The moment I really knew and accepted that it was cancer was in Dr. Olsen’s Salt Lake office. The date was the 28th of August."

     "'We'll have to remove your leg above the knee," Dr. Olsen explained to Mike. We want to make sure we get it all.”

     “I cried, I really cried then,” Mike remembers – but mostly when no one was around.

     “All the crying stopped,” Mike recalls, “after the conversation I had with the Lord the night before the amputation. About 11:30 p.m., the hospital was resting, the room was dark and no one could hear as I began a prayer – a vocal prayer. Across the room was an old man who was snoring up a storm and who really couldn’t hear anything if he had been awake.

     “I talked with my Lord: 'I don't know why this is all happening to me, Father, I'm really not worrying about that. But I need help — I really need it. I can't hack it alone. This thing I can't do myself. I love playing basketball and dancing and hiking.’

     "What will I do? I want to be normal. I want to love. I want to find a girl that loves me. I can't die, yet, I haven't married yet. I've really had a great life, but I’m only 20 years old and, Lord, I want to do more. I need thy help – I need it.’

     "I had never felt anything so strong as I did after that prayer," Mike remembers. “I was given an answer – and the strength to go on.

     “Whether I lived a long full life or not didn’t matter as much as knowing that there is a loving Father in Heaven and life after this one. I knew I would be whole once again – and maybe even be able to play some basketball there.”

     "September 1, 1970, I was wheeled back into my hospital room – one leg less," Mike thought back. For a few days I was really sick, and then everything went much smoother. The doctors and nurses even got mad at me for being so jovial."

     The next milestone came a few weeks after being released from the hospital following the amputation: "Look, I've got my new leg!” Mike announced to his family after returning from Intermountain Limb and Brace Co.

     “I'll dance again,' he added. It was the sixth day of the first month of the New Year.

     “Are you going back to school?” asked a friend soon after Mike began using canes instead of crutches with his artificial leg.

     “I'll start in about two weeks – January 20th, to be exact," Mike boasted.

     Mike, torn away from his memories and back into the present, coughs uncontrollably. As he reaches for the buzzer, he wheezes in a breath. The room is dark except for the light from a small lamp to the right of his bed.

     “Four years of college in three years. Not bad for a guy who can only cough and wheeze now," Mike says as Patricia comes in.

     "Here, let me help you," she says, wiping his chin.

     Mike coughs again, and she wipes his chin again.

     "On a scale of one to 10," she asks him?

     He mumbles: “Nine point five.”

     Finally, the coughing eases and Mike relaxes. "Why did it come back after the amputation?" Mike asks himself.

     Opening his water-glazed eyes, he looks at the blood serum dripping from a clear plastic bag into the plastic, narrow tube that leads to his arm. His heavy eyelids involuntarily close.

     "I wonder what its like?"

     Mike imagines his weary eyes opening again, "What time is it," he faintly asks?

     He doesn't hear the reply – he’s off again into the past.

     "I remember the time I scored 26 points playing on our church basketball team. What moves I had!"

     Tears slowly form at the corner of his eyes, then roll down his cheeks.

     "Lord!"

     Mike, for the first time, becomes conscious of the slow thump of his heart.

     "Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump."

     "Everything is all right," he says to himself.

     His listless eyes open slightly. There are people standing next to his bed, but who are they?

     "Hi," he tries to say. Nothing comes out but a soft moan.

     All he can hear is his heart:

     "Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha- . . . .

W. Lee Hunt, Aug. 23, 20122: As part of the assignment to write a fictional story for my college English class, I had to write a critique of the story as well.
Not only is it interesting to read this fictional version of my cancer ordeal forty years after the fact, but even more so to read my own critique of the story.

Critique of “The Inevitable”
December of 1972
The goal in writing this short story was to help others better understand how I feel when I think about my life and about death.
The story was written to convey an emotion, possibly mixed emotions. What emotion? It’s hard to explain, but not so hard to write about it and let others explain to me.
It was written to tell my story. Of course the ending is fictitious but is still the most important part of the story.
There are three reasons why I had Mike die at the end:
First: I didn't want to do the story in a strict chronological order – from the beginning to his death – but to start at his death bed and go back to the be¬ginning, then return to his death bed, then go back into the past again, and again return to the death bed until the past was the present. I felt that the death bed could be the best revolving door to the time changes. I felt this part was a strong point of my story: the time changes.
Having the death bed as the revolving door to the time changes allowed me to remind the reader that Mike was dying as the reader examined the past events in Mike’s life, thus giving them the ability to see what was happening while knowing the end result.
Secondly: Having him die allowed the reader to see the past in the eyes of death. I accomplished this goal quite adequately.
Thirdly, I felt that it would mean more to the story if the young, returned missionary died – a note of irony to show his faith when, that which killed him, he received on his mission.
The story could have been written in first person, but too many things that I wanted to do would have been lost. The most important difference would be that if it was written in first person, the reader would be less sympathetic toward the writer who was telling his own sad story. In third person, I was able to step one step back and tell the story -- allowing the reader to be more sympathetic toward the main character.
The story written in third person allowed the reader to see more of the actions of those around him and outside of the room and even look at himself.
Writing in the omniscient form as pertaining to the main character, allowed the writer to do two things:
First, go back in the past through Mike’s present thinking, seeing what he thought and what had happened. I felt I accomplished what I wanted in this area.
Secondly, the goal of showing the feelings and emotions could really come out when the readers could read for themselves what Mike was thinking.
There were two conflicts: conflict between life and death, and conflict between ideal of the young man living out a good and happy life and his dying – or reality.
I feel I was successful in what I wanted to accomplish in this story.

Yearning for Sarah

I found some stories I wrote after my mission while I was at BYU. See what you think. Love to hear your comments!

By W. Lee Hunt

The cool breeze off Wilmack Lake whips John's brown hair as he mopes down the quiet sidewalk in Sunset City.

He's been walking for at least 15 minutes, quite a while in these times of instantaneous molecular transportation.

But he likes the feeling of the hard surface under his feet, the breeze against his face, the throbbing of his heart, the sun's rays filtering through the ancient oak trees lining the decaying monorail expressway.

This morning in the year 2034 is no more special than yesterday morning except the weatherman has ordered a half hour rain shower for 10 a.m.

If John doesn’t hurry to work, he’ll get caught in the rain. But, then, he really wouldn’t mind. How many can feel the rain falling, splashing on their eyelids? He knows only a few -- only the helpers.

For the past several days he's been doing a lot of serious thinking. This morning’s no different. And like always, he’s thinking of Sarah.

“You’re so beautiful. I want you, but I can’t have you – and I know it.

"Just to hold you, but that's stupid. You’re little more than an image on a screen.”  

John is walking extra slow today. He’s still a block away from Eternal Home 222,31,3874 when it starts to rain. A few drops at first, then a torrent.

He’s still in no hurry.

Five days a week, 12 hours a day John monitors the life-support system for Sarah Eternal.
He also entertains her with news of the outside world.
Explains to her how the rain comes and goes.
How it feels to run free.

She always listens intently, pictured on the screen, lounging in a large chair with her left leg tucked under her right.

As motionless as death.

Arriving at the front door to her house, dripping wet, he rings the bell.

The door, unattended, swings open.

"You're a little late today, John," he hears her calling.

"I walked again and this time got caught in the rain," he replies as he moves toward the large screen in the living room.

"Are you wet?" she asks.

"Yes, quite," he answers, brushing the surface water off his slacks.

"I've forgotten, I think," she remarks, now bringing an image of herself onto the screen.

“Tell me how it feels to be wet, to have rain falling on 

you.”

Looking up, he sees her on the life-size screen. She’s in her “Number 13” pose. She’s beautiful in her long, gold gown with her blonde hair flowing gently over her bare left shoulder.

Sarah's lying on her side supporting herself with her right elbow. Motionless.

"John – tell me, please, about the rain."

"Oh, yes," he stammers.   

"Well ...," he tries to explain.

Stopping short, “Oh, Sarah, why couldn’t you be like me?”

The image on the screen changes. She’s standing now, in a dark uniform-like outfit.

"We've talked about this before, John. I really like you – you help me so much. But I don’t know love, nor will I ever be able to experience it.
"In my youth, before I became an Eternal, I remember dreaming of being in love, but it seemed only to happen in the movies," she tries to explain.
"And over the past 30 or so years that I've been an Eternal, I've forgotten feelings of emotions. But I can think and imagine and will always be able to… "But John, you can become like me," she beckons. "We could unite our minds and imagine travels and fantasies together."

John blurts out: "But, what of love, what of feeling you next to me?"

"Forget it," she counters. "Love is only for the Helpers -- only for those who still have bodies."

The buzzer sounds and he leaves his seat before the screen. Walking behind the screen he opens a door and enters her chambers. A computer, off to his left, is silently carrying out the processes of keeping Sarah alive.

On a small stand in the middle of the room is Sarah.

Tubes enter an oxygen-controlled cubicle where she lies.

Flipping a switch on the monitor to adjust the room temperature, he turns and goes to her.
He places his hands on the sides of the glass cubicle and watches her -- a small mass of highly advanced nerve endings, which was once entombed in a skull of a helper like John. He listens to the quiet murmur of the blood-like, life-giving fluid as it flows into her and then is expelled.
Moving his hands over the smooth clear surface, as if searching for some response, he whispers, "Oh, Sarah."

A Glimpse into Lee's LDS Mission

Throughout this post and other posts on this blog, the words and names that are highlighted and underlined are links to other Website posts, including LDS sites, to gleen more details and background information. It's a lot of fun to find so much through Google to add background and details to these pictures. Have fun!

Look at this "Greenie" grinning! Here we come!
Mom Lorraine Hunt poses with Warren Lee Hunt at the Salt Lake International Airport after my two months at the LTM (Language Training Mission) at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. This would have been end of April or first part of May of 1969.
Look at those stylish eyeglasses and Mom's hairstyle! Nice suit and tie, though!

Family photo as I get ready to board a jetliner in Salt Lake City, Utah, for my trip to Central America via Los Angeles and Guatemala City, Guatemala.
Left top: Warren Merrill Hunt, Troyleen, Warren Lee Hunt, Beatrice Lorraine Hunt (Magee), Vicki (Kershaw) Hunt, Merrill Ray Hunt.
Front: Rendall Albert Hunt and Trena Leona Hunt.

W. Lee Hunt with his two sisters: Troyleen and Trena at my departure in 1969. 

Lee and my parents Lorraine and Warren Hunt at the airport as I get ready to board the plane for Central America.
Obviously not paying attentiion to the camera!
Dad looks pretty dapper in his white sports coat.

The men in the Hunt clan: Warren Merrill Hunt, Warren Lee Hunt, Merrill Ray Hunt and Rendall Albert Hunt as I head off on an LDS Mission in spring of 1969.

A good missionary friend: Sister Broadhead.

The famous singing group in the Central America Mission, 1970 -- well, before the real one. (Pictures below)
Elder Hunt, Sister Pulsipher, Sister Holly Gudmundson, Elder Reuel Smith (I don't remember the name of the other tenor).
We're performing at a Costa Rica conference session in the dual branch chapel in Costa Rica. Central America Mission President Milton E. Smith is at left with his arms folded. 

Most of my time in Costa Rica (1970) was spent working in the mission office as the public affairs officer. I wrote articles for local newspapers and coordinated church movies for television stations and audio tapes for radio stations throughout the mission. Episodes of "The Spoken Word with The Tabernacle Choir" were the most popular. I also wrote some articles for The Church News. A couple of them were published.

 Central America Mission President Milton E. Smith at a Costa Rica conference session in the dual branch chapel in Costa Rica, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1970.
Sister Holly Gudmundson is at right and I think it's Brother Topia at left in back.

The chapel and cultural hall are filled for the Costa Rica conference session in the dual branch chapel in Costa Rica, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1970. This picture I believe ran in the local newspaper La Nacion after the conference with a caption only about the session.

This is an invitation to an "Exposition" and a special video presentation of "Man's search for Happiness" at the branch chapel in Managua, Nicaragua, July 26, 1969.
It starts with:
"Where did we come from? Why are we here? and Where do we go after this life?"
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
We put up a bunch of posters in the cultural hall about the church and had quite a good turn out of members and the curious.

Sister Holly Gudmundson performs a solo at a San Jose, Costa Rica, LDS District Conference session in the dual branch chapel in San Jose, Costa Rica in 1970.
I'm hiding behind the flowers at left and Sister Pulsipher is at my right.

This is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints branch chapel in San Jose, Costa Rica, in 1970.
I have many fond memories of the work here.

I received a birthday card and this note inside from President Milton E. Smith and his wife on my birthday while serving in the mission office in San Jose, Costa Rica, Feb. 27, 1970.

Two members of the branch in San Jose, Costa Rica, perform in "Todo A Favor" ("All in Favor") in 1970. I was asked to direct the LDS musical comedy partly because I had been in the show just over a year before back home in Granger, Utah.
I can't remember either of their names: Is his Victor Vida? Can anyone help me with the names?
I never got to finish the job or see the performance because of the problems I was having with my leg.

Two members of the branch in San Jose, Costa Rica, perform in "Todo A Favor" ("All in Favor") in 1970. I was asked to direct the LDS musical comedy partly because I had been in the show just over a year before back home in Granger, Utah.
I can't remember either of their names: Is his Victor Vida? Can anyone help me with the names?
I never got to finish the job or see the performance because of the problems I was having with my leg.

Two members of the branch in San Jose, Costa Rica, perform in "Todo A Favor" ("All in Favor") in 1970. I was asked to direct the LDS musical comedy partly because I had been in the show just over a year before back home in Granger, Utah.
I can't remember either of their names. Can anyone help me with the names?
I never got to finish the job or see the performance because of the problems I was having with my leg.

A member of the branch in San Jose, Costa Rica, perform in "Todo A Favor" ("All in Favor") in 1970. I was asked to direct the LDS musical comedy partly because I had been in the show just over a year before back home in Granger, Utah.
I think his name is Brother Topia Can anyone help me with the name?
I never got to finish the job or see the performance because of the problems I was having with my leg.

I was asked to direct the LDS musical comedy in San Jose, Costa Rica, of "Todo A Favor" ("All in Favor") in 1970 partly because I had been in the show just over a year before back home in Granger, Utah.
Elder Hunt and Sister Holly Gudmundson at a rehearsal.
I never got to finish the job or see the performance because of the problems I was having with my leg. Sister Holly Gudmundson carried it the rest of the way -- as I recall.

This is the famous singing group in the Central America Mission, 1970.
Elder Ralph Dewsnup, left, Sister Elona Knighten (Shelly), Elder Callahan andSister Holly Gudmundson, front.
(President Smith sent an email update: "In regard to the singing group the one name you were missing is Elona Knighten (Shelly). She lives in Orem, has a nice family, and her husband works for BYU. Elona has kept very busy with organizing mission reunions along with Andy Valdivieso. When we meet in Salt Lake, Elona gives me a ride. My wife is not doing too great in her health and has not attended for the past two years. We generally meet in October. Back to the singing group: Holly Gudmundson has had some health problems which have caused her many challenges. Mike Callahan passed away a couple of years ago. Ralph Dewsnup returned a year or so ago after serving as a mission president in Puerto Rico. He is an Attorney."    

This is the famous singing group in the Central America Mission, 1970.
The group did quite a bit of traveling for missionary promotional performances, including some television and radio gigs.
Elder Ralph Dewsnup, left, Sister Elona Knighten (Shelly), Elder Callahan and Sister Holly Gudmundson, front.
(President Smith sent an email update: "In regard to the singing group the one name you were missing is Elona Knighten (Shelly). She lives in Orem, has a nice family, and her husband works for BYU. Elona has kept very busy with organizing mission reunions along with Andy Valdivieso. When we meet in Salt Lake, Elona gives me a ride. My wife is not doing too great in her health and has not attended for the past two years. We generally meet in October. Back to the singing group: Holly Gudmundson has had some health problems which have caused her many challenges. Mike Callahan passed away a couple of years ago. Ralph Dewsnup returned a year or so ago after serving as a mission president in Puerto Rico. He is an Attorney."

This is the famous singing group in the Central America Mission, 1970.
The group did quite a bit of traveling for missionary promotional performances, including some television and radio gigs.
Elder Ralph Dewsnup, front, Sister Elona Knighten (Shelly), left, Elder Callahan, back, and Sister Holly Gudmundson, right.
(President Smith sent an email update: "In regard to the singing group the one name you were missing is Elona Knighten (Shelly). She lives in Orem, has a nice family, and her husband works for BYU. Elona has kept very busy with organizing mission reunions along with Andy Valdivieso. When we meet in Salt Lake, Elona gives me a ride. My wife is not doing too great in her health and has not attended for the past two years. We generally meet in October. Back to the singing group: Holly Gudmundson has had some health problems which have caused her many challenges. Mike Callahan passed away a couple of years ago. Ralph Dewsnup returned a year or so ago after serving as a mission president in Puerto Rico. He is an Attorney."

This is the famous singing group in the Central America Mission, 1970.
The group did quite a bit of traveling for missionary promotional performances, including some television and radio gigs.
Elder Ralph Dewsnup, front, Sister Elona Knighten (Shelly), left, Elder Callahan, back, and Sister Holly Gudmundson, right.
(President Smith sent an email update: "In regard to the singing group the one name you were missing is Elona Knighten (Shelly). She lives in Orem, has a nice family, and her husband works for BYU. Elona has kept very busy with organizing mission reunions along with Andy Valdivieso. When we meet in Salt Lake, Elona gives me a ride. My wife is not doing too great in her health and has not attended for the past two years. We generally meet in October. Back to the singing group: Holly Gudmundson has had some health problems which have caused her many challenges. Mike Callahan passed away a couple of years ago. Ralph Dewsnup returned a year or so ago after serving as a mission president in Puerto Rico. He is an Attorney."Elder Dewsnup was my companion for several months, mostly while I was "recovering" from surgery on my left leg.
The doctor and I thought my problem was cartiliage damage in my knee from a tubing accident I had when I was on a Scout winter camp. (That's a different post).
Elder Dewsnup was an athelete as I considered myself, too. He encouraged me to tough it up like the football players I had worked with for so many years and get better so I could do missionary work. He and I didn't realize how serious it really was.
Thanks to Elder Lorin Hansen for emailing back and identifying Elder Callahan.
(Elder Hansen said in his email that he's from Elwood (Tremonton) Utah. He now live in Costa Rica and has been there 7 years. He lives on a farm near Guapiles. He retired 7 years ago, sold everything in the U.S. and moved there with hid wife who is Tica. "We enjoy it here. Church has changed greatly since 1969. I left the mission in march 1970 from Honduras.")

One of the highlights of my mission was the visit from a member of the Quroum of Twelve of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints -- Elder Delbert L. Stapley.
In the picture, he's holding a replica of a traditional brightly colored orange Costa Rican cart. The missionaries in Managua, Nicaragua, met with him as part of  zone conferencein 1969. He also met with media representatives.

One of the highlights of my mission was the visit from a member of the Quroum of Twelve of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints -- Elder Delbert L. Stapley.
In the picture, he's greeting LDS Scouts.

One of the highlights of my mission was the visit from a member of the Quroum of Twelve of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints -- Elder Delbert L. Stapley.
In this picture,Elder Stapley meets with a government official in 1969.

When I first arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica, from Managua, Nicaragua, Elder See was one of the mission office workers. He was a funny, fun guy. Notice the Coke bottle on the shelf behind him.

Elder Ralph Dewsnup, left, and Elder Callahan perform on television program in San Jose, Costa Rica, in 1970
The group did quite a bit of traveling for missionary promotional performances, including some television and radio gigs.

One of the highlights of my mission was the visit from a member of the Quroum of Twelve of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints -- Elder Delbert L. Stapley.
Elder Stapley is holding a press conference. His reflection is in the mirror. Elder Gayton, at his left, is the interpretor. Sister Smith and Mission President Milton E. Smith are at Elder Gayton's left.

Elder Andy Valdivieso on our "diversion day."A great missionary!
I need more details on this, Andy! 

Elder Warren Lee Hunt
Central America Mission
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
1969 and 1970.
For my family, I want to include the email from Pres. Smith:

"Hi Elder Hunt. It looks like I received your email through Andy Valdivieso. It is great to hear from you and get an update on your activities. Your pictures and comments brought back some great memories. The last I knew about you I think you were working for the Deseret News writing headlines. Is my memory correct? We hope things are going well for you. I suppose you have heard from some other missionary friends as I notice you now have the name of Robert Alsop which I did not see at first....

I have thought of you often and wondered how you are doing. I really appreciate the great job you did when you were assigned to the office. Your leg problems saddened us very much but we are grateful you got help before it was too late.    
I retired from BYU about fifteen years ago. My wife and I spent three years in Guatemala where I served as Temple President. I now serve two days a week in the Mount Timpanogos temple. Our children are spread around a little, and they are subject to the normal challenges of life. We have one grandson currently serving a mission in Argentina and another in Colombia. Our oldest daughter, Terri Lyn, is currently serving a mission with her husband in Uganda.

Take care of yourself. May the Lord bless you. Con Amor, Mitt Smith"

Elder David Hacking
Now lives in Brigham City, Utah

I think this is Elder Hill.
Details?

Elder Alsop
Pres. Smith emailed: "Bob Alsop is also an attorney and lives a little north of Salt Lake. He and his wife still have one child at home since they were blessed with a little one several years after the rest of the family.

Elder Wilde was my first companion in San Jose, Costa Rica. We were only together for two or three weeks before I saw him off on a jet plane, bound for his hometown in Utah (I think it was Magna.)
He asked me to sang a special song to his friends who came to see him off at the airport:
"I'm Leaving, on a Jet Plane, Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again!"
Couldn't do it, though. Sorry, Elder Wilde.
Quite the experience!