O Pioneers!

In honor of Pioneer Day, I'm going to tell you my favorite pioneer story.

I grew up outside of Utah ("the mission field," as they say). Both my parents were converts to the church, so our understanding of Mormon culture was definitely incomplete. My childhood had an appalling lack of jello salad, Creamies, and quilting. In fact, I didn't know that there was an actual day in Utah officially known as Pioneer Day (complete with parades and fireworks!) until I was about 20. Nevertheless, I LOVED pioneer stories. I buried myself in Laura Ingalls Wilder books and I watched "Little House on the Prairie" all the time (technically not LDS, I know). I ate up every harrowing tale thrown at me by Sunday School teachers. I was in awe of those early Saints. And I was always a little bit sad that nobody in my ancestry crossed the plains into the Salt Lake Valley.

My love and lack of pioneers came to a head my second year at Girls' Camp. I'm guessing that year camp fell over the July 24th holiday because each girl had been instructed to prepare to talk about a pioneer ancestor. As my mom (who was Young Women's president at the time) drove me up to camp, I expressed my regret that I didn't have a pioneer story to share. "Well, then, let's make one up for you!" We spent the next two hours concocting the most horrifying trials for my fictional great-great-great-great-great grandmother. The story had it all: horrific battles against Mother Nature, tragic death scenes, poignant spiritual awakenings, and the most delicious of love triangles. It was the greatest piece of Mormon fiction I have ever heard (well, it was the best up until I saw Legacy a few years later). It was great fun creating this pioneer tale and I loved my mom for doing it with me.

I thought it had been purely for my own entertainment, but no. My mother leaped up when it was my turn to share by the campfire and recounted the entire story to the group. Laurels' jaws dropped. Beehives quit giggling and gave my mother their rapt attention. One leader began to sniffle as my mother finished the story. Oh, how I wish I could remember it! What I do remember is that it was the best pioneer tale of the evening by far. My mother sat down and smiled at me conspiratorially. I don't know who it was, but after a contemplative silence, someone asked if that story was actually true (the vivid details my mother had lavished on the story must have given us away). My mother laughed and admitted that we made it up. "It was a good story, though, wasn't it?" The teary leader gasped. My mom reminded everyone that they KNEW she was a convert and that there was no way the pioneer heroine of the story could have actually been in our ancestry. Some people were mad (I remember the teary leader being in a bit of a huff for a while), but most got a good laugh out of it. I still remember thinking I had the greatest mother ever for helping me feel like part of the group--a legitimate LDS girl with an honorable pioneer heritage.

As I have gotten older, I have come to understand that I had an honorable pioneer heritage all along. I was actually raised by two brave pioneers and nothing we made up could beat the tale of two missionaries tracting into a scruffy 20-something young man while he was washing his motorcycle in the driveway of his grandparents' home. Or how other missionaries tracked him down a year later (several states away!) based on the contact card those original missionaries filled out. Or how the young woman who answered the phone at the dean's office when those missionaries called looking for that man ended up embracing the gospel (along with said scruffy young man who turned all clean cut and baptized her! And then she married him! Yes, folks, there's even romance in the story!). They even traveled west (just not all the way to Salt Lake). Yes, I dearly love my noble pioneer parents and feel proud to be related to them.

But just to be on the safe side, I married a man with PLENTY of authentic plains crossing ancestors. You know, in case one of my daughters needs a pioneer tale to tell at Girls' Camp one day and she doesn't feel like lying.