I believe the class was a mite bigger than this, but I couldn’t now name those who were missing for the photo-shoot. Yes, they were a perfectly darling group of ninth- and tenth-graders who got up very early every school morning in 1965-66 and gathered at their ward meeting-house in Menlo Park, California, where we studied the Scriptures and talked of special things.

One anecdote will prepare the next major topic (Rick) and also give you an idea of their sweetness: They knew, of course, that we were expecting our first child, and they were excited about it, too. On the 28th of September, even as we convened, things were starting to pop, chez Valerie; I left the group a time or two to call home for an update. No cell phones, in those days: just the pay phone in the hall. That afternoon, Rick made his entrance.

The next morning, I got there ahead of all the students. As each came in, it was “Well? did it happen? what did you get?” with their eyes just shining. I invited each to take his seat; said I’d have an announcement, once everybody was on hand. Now, the kids were used to hearing Tabernacle Choir music, as they arrived. Today, the 12-inch vinyl disc was spinning at 33-1/3 rpm on the turntable, but the needle sat, quietly and inertly, in its little holder. When the last student was seated, I smiled at the class, lifted the needle, and placed it in the groove. Handel: “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given…”

That’s the only standing ovation anybody has ever accorded to yours truly. I can’t remember it with dry eyes.
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