If there were to be a book on the Masters of Marketing, I think the Mormon Church would get a pretty big section of it.
We entered Temple Square in Salt Lake and found guides with open arms greeting us, each wearing the flag of the language they spoke-Korean, German, Russian, English, Dutch, etc.
We joined the tour of the compound, which includes visitor centers explaining the Mormon philosophy and outlook on life. This is a polished building. It has enormous paintings with scenes from the New and Old Testaments. It has a room where you sit looking up at a starry sky in the presence of a massive statue of Jesus. The guides turn on a sound system that starts…
“Have you ever wondered about the meaning of LIFE?” and proceeds from there.
The tour basically went something like this…. “To your right, you will see the beautiful stonework of the columns supporting the Temple (into which only Mormons can go). These stones were made possible by the fact that Jesus Christ, our savior, died for our sins. Of course, this is why you should want to read the Book of Mormon.”
OK, so I’m exaggerating, and their presentation was a lot smoother than that, but they were mildly forceful in their efforts to recruit.
On the other hand, you can’t argue with their success, and they have a lot of it. The women (all of the guides were women) were dressed quite modestly, exceedingly polite, and quite clear in their firm commitment to their faith.
The Mormons set aside special time just for the family on a regular basis.
They are firm believers in education and abhor welfare. They have achieved remarkable material successes, are not flamboyant about it, and have built a thriving, modern city in a spectacular setting. Their ethics are quite impeccable, particularly their work ethic. It's really quite admirable.
I subsequently heard that Utah is 70% Mormon and is essentially a theocracy, but that was one man’s opinion (a wise man, but still one man’s opinion.)
The last room on the tour of the compound had a crisp 4 minute film showing how Jesus had appeared to the Native Americans (yes, the people on the American continent.) It was quite powerful and even got me a bit emotional.
Now, obviously I don’t affirm the idea that Jesus died for our sins and was resurrected three days later, but for the sake of argument, let’s say he did. To say that he was crucified in Jerusalem and then resurrected in Jerusalem, well….ok, but to say that he died, was resurrected and then subsequently appeared to peoples in North America just seems to be a stretch… on the surface. On the other hand, if you believe that G-d can perform miracles (which I do), I guess anything is possible.
>From my perspective, it did seem strange.
The last step we had, before we were “Mormoned-out” was in the Beehive house. We had noticed coming into Utah from Idaho that all of the state highway signs were beehives.
Brigham Young had built and named the house in Salt Lake because he considered the Beehive a sign of industriousness, a trait which he and the Mormons valued. He lived by the credo of giving work to people who were unemployed and insisting that people make a contribution to society. He was clearly a learned man, particularly erudite; he did not waste time that could be spent learning, teaching, or spending time with his family.
After 2.5 hours there, we felt like we had enough (though I did read the story of Joseph Smith’s divine inspiration while in Nevada) and moved on out of town. I do have to say, however, that Salt Lake is a beautiful city. It’s quite clean and it’s location, right at the foot of the Wasatch Mountains and basically in the middle of nowhere, makes it quite impressive.
As you leave Salt Lake and head towards Nevada, the land gets more and more barren. I had thought, as we entered each state from South Dakota on “It can ’t get any more remote than this” but as we entered Wyoming and then Idaho, I realized I was wrong.
I should have held my tongue, because western Utah and Nevada is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
The salt flats of the western part of Utah prompted Tamar to say “this is probably what it was like after Sodom and Gemmorah were destroyed.” Save a few hills, it is flat, dry, wide, and just empty, devoid of people, and when there are exits, there are really nothing more than a few houses, most exits don’t even have gas stations or convenience stores, which is obviously a rarity.
Now, when you cross into Nevada, you think…”I wonder if all of the people who got tired of living with the Mormons just decided to come to Nevada and be the anti-Mormons.”
For miles before the state line and everywhere in between, all you see are billboards for Casinos and their ‘loose slots.” The gas stations have video poker in them (when you get to one of course.) Tamar didn’t believe me that prostitution is legal in Nevada and I didn’t get a chance to disprove her, but you just have to wonder about what is going on in that state.
However, when you do the drive on I-80 from Salt Lake to Reno, you will invariably come to two realizations.
The first is: It’s no wonder we bury our nuclear waste out here.
The second is: how come every prisoner in America isn’t kept out here. Heck, you wouldn’t even need walls. Put them 100 miles from anybody and see how long they last.
You enter Nevada and it says “Reno, 547 miles”. We left SLC at 4.30pm (mountain time) and crossed into Pacific Time roughly at the border. We thought we could make it to Reno by 11.30pm, but it was just too much, so we stayed in…
Winnemucca, Nevada. (That’s Win-Neh-Muck-ka). It was by far the crappiest motel we’d visited, probably because people in Nevada spend all of their time at the slot machines.
I have to say, we got to Reno the next morning and went to the Hilton to use the Internet connection to send/check email and walked through the casino.
It just got me so depressed. I saw so many people just pushing coins into a machine, wasting their lives away, in my opinion. There were no neurons being fired. Sad. And we haven’t even made it to Vegas yet, though I suspect that’s a different experience.
Leaving Nevada’s deserts and mountains and nothingness, we hit the Sierras, heading for Lake Tahoe, which is apparently the highest alpine lake in North America. When I was 9 years old, I went with my father to Lake Tahoe in the summer and I can still remember opening my eyes under the water, seeing how clear it was. I was intent on reliving that experience and I wanted Tamar to do it as well.
Well, this time it’s October and the water isn’t as warm. By some estimates, it was about 50 degrees. Now, remember we are Polar Bears, so we had trained for this moment (though Tamar preferred not to put her training to use), so I changed into my bathing suit, waded into the lake and put my head under the water, opened my eyes and once again was astounded at its clarity.
Unfortunately, by this time, my legs had gone numb and I could feel my heart pounding and I thought I was having a small heart attack, so I went back to shore after my 90 seconds or so in the water, feeling refreshed for the experience.
We headed over the Donner Pass at an elevation of 8500 feet, where in the 1860’s or so, a pioneer party led by a person name Donner (or a family named
Donner) made a miscalculation about the time it would take to cross, subsequently were stuck up in the mountains for the winter and ultimately resorted to cannibalism in order to survive (which I’m not sure any of them did any way).
Fortunately, our car has been relatively well stocked, thanks to our VP of Food Procurement and we didn’t have to resort to anything that gruesome. We did celebrate the return of our cell phone coverage after six days without it, by talking to my parents while stopping at the Donner summit.
Our next goal was Sacramento, the state capital, and it was on the outskirts of that city where we had the true California experience, as well as something we hadn’t seen since we left Chicago, namely, traffic. After spending days rolling along at 80 or 85 mph, it was a strange feeling to be back at snail’s pace of 5mph or so.
In Sacramento, we were joined for dinner by Jesse Szeto, a friend of mine from IUJ in Japan, who works in the state’s department of economic planning.
He told us that Route 99, which covers the central part of the state, including famous places like Fresno and Stockton, is the focus of the government’s efforts since the rate of teenage pregnancy and high school dropouts tend to be quite high. It seems that businesses have few reasons to invest in that portion of the state and Jesse is trying to improve their lives.
He met us at Bob’s Kosher Deli, our first taste of kosher meat since we left Chicago, which was enjoyed by all (including Jesse, I believe) and over turkey and pastrami sandwiches, we discussed the beauty of email and how it had enabled us to maintain a relationship over the past four years without seeing each other once.
Our dinner with Jesse reiterated once again (as if it was really needed), that it is the people who make the trip, not just the destination. And in this case, if Life is the trip, it really is the people who make it for you.
Next email: The San Francisco Bay Area
Before signing off, a quick word of thanks to all of the members of the Etymology Hall of Fame (names below) on the word ‘Geyser’.
Most popular answer:
Geyser - 1780, from Icelandic Geysir, name of a hot spring in the valley of Haukadal, from O.N. geysa "to gush," from P.Gmc. *gausjan, from I.E. *gheus-, from root *gheu- "to pour."
Another answer from Zehava Cohn:
geyser (GIE-zuhr) noun
1. A natural hot spring that intermittently ejects a column of water and
steam into the air.
2. (GEE-zuhr). Chiefly British. A gas-operated hot-water heater.
[After Icelandic Geysir, name of a hot spring of southwest Iceland, from geysa, to gush, from Old Norse.]
"With Old Faithful erupting less frequently and less regularly, scientists
speculate that its underground feeder system is literally losing steam.
For the moment, only seasoned geyser gazers notice the difference."
Old Faithful becoming, well, less faithful // Eruptions grow less regular;
scientists say it may be losing steam, Star Tribune, 5 Feb 1996.
>From "A Word A Day"
And some comments from Ariela Freedman
I learned about the origin of this word in my Algo-Saxon Lit class at Lawrence. Geyser is one of about three words in the English language that came from Icelandic culture about a thousand years ago. I did a search for the word online and came up with this definition:
There are not many geysers on earth. They are rare geologic features that get their names from a large geyser in Iceland. The namesake for all the world's geysers is the great Geysir. In Danish the name means "gusher" or "spouter." The Icelandic people are very proud of their geyser. In fact its name, Geysir, is copyrighted so it cannot be used as the name of any other geyser.
Here's the website, if you want to check it out:
http://click.topica.com/maaaAGsaaT2r1ba5BxCb/
I also think geyser would be a great name for a kid, so long as it wasn't confused with "geezer." Anyway, good luck in your continued travels - thanks for putting us on your list. We always have interesting discussions about your emails.
The Etymology Hall of Fame
Leo Lipis
Ariela Freedman
Barak Epstein
Amy Berks
Alan Gersch
Michael Merwitz
Michael Kellman
Ben Gris
Zehava Cohn
Josh Pines
Greg Teitel
Thanks for reading and keep those suggestions coming. I am only sorry that I don't have the time to respond to each one individually.
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