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The branch president in Pau and his flock were glad to see President and Sister Anderson, and it didn’t take the visitors long to straighten out the “histoire” that had brought them there. Their presence, despite the difficulties and disorders that prevailed, provided all the reassurance that struggling congregation needed of the love and concern of their leaders.

One sister pressed this card into Mammy’s hand as evidence of their reciprocal affection. I’ve never been able to decipher French signatures: “Soeur Landrieux,” perhaps? Anybody who can help out will earn my gratitude.

Pappy had indeed assured Elder Kimball from his hospital bed that he had to go back, else “those people in Pau will never forgive themselves.” When he did return in August, they had all the evidence they needed of his love for them. I was there and can testify of their warm feelings for him. 		Pau
Folks The card must have been on her person, as she perched, unbelted, on the Citroën’s console between Mitt and Pappy, when the Mercedes crested the hill on the wrong side of the road. It’s a tender mercy that it has survived to emerge in our old steel trunk in the Chankly garage, when Cyndi and Ron cleaned it out yesterday. They gave it to me this morning, Mother’s Day, 2020, as we gathered to take the Sacrament in our living room, as authorized on account of our own contemporary crop of disorders. This page comes as a late insertion into the Gedenkschrift that Brent and I put together to observe her hundredth birthday, ten years ago.

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