Journal January 4, 1964
January 4, 1964—Have been keeping a rather clinical watch over my reactions to this big change in circumstances, and think I’ve found out some things about my psychic make-up that may be of use to us in our married life; so, I’m reporting them here.

First, I felt simply terrible when the news was broken that Elder Gates was coming in and that I would therefore definitely be leaving the Home. I loved the Home, the Staff, my job, Paris, and all things associated therewith, and it was most difficult to envisage the prospect of being forcibly separated from them. And now, as I am on the very point of leaving, [263] my attitude is nearly the same in all respects but one: I am still certain that I’ll miss the Home, the Hinckleys, the Staff, and Paris, but my feelings toward the job I’m leaving have changed drastically, and it is this transformation that seems to be pregnant with meaning. …More, next page…
Here’s Elder Michael Frank Gates, who took over the Publications Office from me. Not a stellar photo; sorry, frère.

In light of the solid (and amazing) month I had spent learning at Ella’s feet, a year earlier, it’s strange that I retain very little recollection of the time Gates and I spent passing the baton. But then it’s clear that we had much less time together, for reasons I don’t now understand: I seem to have learned about my impending transfer only “a few days” before New Year’s Eve, and I arrived in Tours late on Tuesday, January 7. The Church record says, moreover, that Elder Gates transferred to the Franco-Belgian Mission on October 7, 1964, taking with him, at least plausibly, the publications operation.
I’ve forgotten, alas, the name of the cute little boy at Elder Gates’ side, above. He and his family were Paris branch members, and he did enjoy tagging after the missionaries.

Here’s another shot of him, somewhat better than the first. But if you’d like a really good one, you’ll have to get hold of a copy of the Family Home Evening Manual that the Church put out in 1964. For thereby hangs another tale.

Seems that ace Deseret News photographer J Malan Heslop came to Paris on assignment to capture images of happy families worldwide. It fell to me, of course, to squire him around among our photogenic membership. This lad’s household wasn’t the first we visited, but it may have been the most productive. Invited to look happy, they gathered in a fetching cluster and sang a couple of Primary songs, accompanied by our handsome young chap on a little concertina. Heslop got several good, harmonious action shots, and one of them graced the cover of the manual that went to Mormon homes around the world, the next year.

I could wish that this were the end of the story, but candor nags me to confess that I managed to break off Heslop’s rental-car key in its trunk lock, with all his (quite impressive & obviously expensive) equipment securely therein. Specific memory fades: I can’t really recall whether he actually missed his flight on my account. But I’m sure it took all his Christian upbringing to restrain the violence my clumsiness had earned.
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