My last night in the mission was dinner of some sort, and the testimony meeting. Something in the 2 converstions thread made me think about something odd the old Prez said. After everyone went around in the living room and bore 'fervent' testimony, Prez gives his. We were sitting around in a living room in dining room chairs for comfort. The only think I recall him saying was that 40% of you (missionaries headed home the next morning) would leave the church. This is mid 90's. Maybe the spirits were witnessing truth unto him. I can think of many guys I was comps with or knew who have left the Morporarion. Inspiring, I suppose.

Ah...my last supper in the mission home...I blocked most of it out. I do remember feeling like I gave my mission my all and didn't get much in return. My mission president seemed to have a big chip on his shoulder against me for some reason, so I left my mission feeling like a looser and a failure even though I had been a work horse, making sure that I didn't stop knocking on doors each night till 9 PM. I needed to be a good example to the greenie I'd been training for my last six months. I was in the Zurich, Switzerland mission, where the "field was white, already to harvest." The mission was recently closed so I guess it wasn't that ripe after all.

Guess-it's-like-slow-ripening-cheese-ly yrs,

S

You know what it means to be "White and ready to harvest"?

That you can fool them, that they don't have the requisite knowledge to see the flies in the ointment. This is why 1st world countries aren't missionary hotspots. You need ignorant (not dumb), out of touch with facts and science communities. This is where the gospel has always thrived. Yeah, Mexico, '65-'67!!

Jeezus Cheezus...you're MP was a prophetic man. You should have said, "Hey odd's are I am in that 40%..see ya" and walked out.

Many of us, especially those who served pre-internet (when communication was not 'easy'), probably have a list in our heads regarding "Wonder what happened Elder _______?"

My very first companion, Elder Melvin Bowler (with whom I shared a double bed for six night in the old SLC mission home) was killed over Spring break, 1968, within six months of returning home. It's a coin flip on whether he'd have become exmo; very smart, way, WAY disciplined!

My first senior, Elder Shepard, seemed to be GA material. He quit the church within months home. Spent his work life teaching college, in the mid-west. Not active as an exmo.

My last senior, name redacted, was exmo material. But his loyalty to the church was probably via his wife. He's went as high as bishop. He contacted me in 1990, asking me to host his oldest child, who wanted to leave home. She came from Oklahoma to SoCal. She was completely rebellious, regarding the church, having suffered through a childhood of being junior mom for her extremely mormon-crazed mother, who cranked out I don't know how
many kids. He's now retired to Springville.

Elder Garibay: My last junior. I totally corrupted him, but it only required knocking down a thin, leggo block wall. We were together for three months and never tracted. As in never. He had rich relatives in DF, and I got to go to lots of interesting places,including a maguey farm, where the foreman showed us how to hunt and eat "gusanos de maguey", caterpillars that lived in the maguey (from whence pulque and tequila flow). The eating required them to be fried and served with rice and beans. YUM! (not really. I did not partake.)

Elder Bear. I can still see his face, at the rear of a bus in Leon, GTO, looking back at me as I'm squared up, fist-fighting with a young buck. Poor guy... But he got off at the next stop and came hoofing it back, by which time the fight (light sparring session) was over. I took him tracting just once, where I was grateful to hear that the people of Lagos de Moreno had been coached by their priest to be nice to the deluded young men preaching a false religion, because we didn't know any better. Whew!!!

Elder Smith. First time I ever saw a skateboard was when we met up with some elders from another district and he had a skateboard with him. This was late 1965. He entranced us and the Mexican passengers of a trolley car by skating to the rear of the car when it accelerated and skating to the front, when it braked. He and I slept in a single bed in Leon, head to foot, for a couple of nights. In retrospect, he had to be gay. That's a guess, but it's an educated guess.

Elder Price. My very first greenie, in Cuautla, Morelos. He may still retain an impression that I was valiant in the faith. But it was just that I was trying to impress (get in the pants of) an LM (Lady Missionary) who'd gone home and with whom I could now communicate via letters. I was feigning, real hard, being a good mormon. I even gave up masturbation and had a couple of wet dreams, thanks to a merciful Jesus. He has posted on an RM board, so I know he's still firm in the faith.

Elder ?. I seriously don't recall his name. We were both senior companions, but he had more time in. We were sent to open Silao, GTO. The APs dropped us off with a truck load of chairs and a couple of tables, at the home they'd rented for us to use as both living quarters and a chapel. We never tracted. We explored the surrounding countryside, including the big Cristo Rey de la Montaña. I have a photo of the room where all the people healed by their pilgrimage to this 'holy' site drop off
their canes, crutches, casts and wheelchairs. The most notable memory of my time with him, about a month, was that we politely took turns showering in this huge, gorgeous tiled bathroom! And by showering, I mean masturbating. (the LM had dumped me.)

Back to the topic: I don't recall my last night. I did not have a final interview with the MP, Jasper McClellan. I do not recall a single formal interview with him. I never wrote to him, never had an occasion to seek him out. I'm sure I probably exchanged pleasantries (I'm just that kind of guy) with him, but I don't recall it or them. I have a photo of my mother and Sis. McClellan. My mom came down to Mexico both summer of '66, when I was in Guadalajara, and '67, when I was DF, which is where the mission home was. She drove down the second time, and left me her '67 T-Bird for two weeks. Luckily Garibay and I took good care of it. I tend to doubt that Jasper met my mother, but Sis. McClellan was a sweet as could be.

All I remember about the last day in Mexico was that the APs, one of whom was Elder Bowler, picked me up at 'home', drove me to the airport, I got on the plane, got off in SLC, got in a van sent up from BYU, rode down to BYU, signed up for mid-semester entry to BYU, went to a dance in the evening with my last senior, where I pompously told anyone who would listen that I couldn't dance because I hadn't been released, and then got on a BYU van, rode back to SLC, got on a plane to Las Vegas, where my parents met me, with big signs and a mariachi band (that's a lie, no signs, no band, just mom and dad) went home to catch a few house sleep and then got up the next morning and lied my ass off to my SP, who released me.

I always try to have fun!

(The thing with the Y, that was all their doing, to keep me from being drafted. No way am I that organized or that motivated.)

ETA: My release was 50 years ago this month!!



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/22/2017 06:38PM by elderolddog.

Hi elderolddog...so what was it then, just Elder Dog? I really enjoyed your missionary stories. What caught my attention was when you finished up with the fact you were released 50 years ago this month. Me too...almost to the day. I went to California from being raised in Chicago. I entered BYU as a freshly returned missionary in Sept of 67 also. Ah, how time flies. I'll spare you all my mission stories...just wanted to say hi, from one old dog to another.

I was Elder Pup way back then!

Did they get you directly from the mission field to the Y?

Did you have to take a class designed to help you be a good student?

What was your major?

Hi. No, I flew back to Chicago from LA and was released there. A few days later I drove to Provo and moved into Chipman Hall and registered for classes. No special RM classes or any "how to" classes required. At first I majored in Business Administration, but switched to Communications( Journalism)when the Math classes got too hard. Graduated in 70. Had a lot of good "semi and inactive" friends....mostly from out of state. With no church attendance requirements at the time, we hardly ever went to church and got no hassles. No Bishop's interviews required....unless you got caught " sinning". Overall, it wasn't so bad....just lay low and fly under the radar. It sure beat Vietnam Nam.

No church attendance required?? Interesting....I was at Ricks the year before and my bishop was all over you if you missed PM,
SS or SM. He was an uber asshole who's picture in the yearbook shows him sitting at his office desk with an enormous portrait of Bringem Young behind him. He was a fat guy and bore a striking resemblance to the profit/rapist/philanderer/terrorist/murder...minus the beard.

Huh! I wonder why I got the special treatment? I didn't request it or even hint that I wanted it. It was just 'done'.

Yeah, Ron, it sucked to be you at Ricks!

I always figured that the mid-semester registrants were so successful in flying under the radar because we weren't on the beginning of the semester master lists.

I have no recollection of attending a ward meeting and I have no idea who signed my temple recommend so I could get married at the end of the school year. I just remember going in with my temple bride to get sex education. After the marriage I was a faithful, attending mormon again, with an immediate calling.

Oh, how I admire that you knew it was B.S. while on your mission. I was "true blue" (in French speaking missions the new missionaries are "blue" rather than green. I have no idea why other than it's a French thing)

So, I was bleu, and full of TBM testimony, but sane at the same time. I thought some of the mission president's ideas were straight from LaLa Land. I took my investigators seriously, not that we had many in Switzerland. I didn't like the games, you know the ball games where investigators were points? Didn't like the tongue lashings. Didn't like riding a bike with a skirt in winter so I broke rules and wore men's thermal underwear (Heaven Forbid!!!) under my long skirt and high boots. Nobody ever suspected. And the weird rewards meant to tempt us for making the most converts, contacts, etc. I never thought of myself as someone who could be bought for childish rewards. A nice, "Good job Sister Pooped" would have been sufficient.

Anyway, two missionaries come to mind that I'd like to meet. First, Sister Pilcher. She was a convert like me but had been converted by her boyfriend. She went on a mission to pass the time while he was on his mission. Bad idea ladies!!! He got home from his mission first and married someone else while she was still on her mission. Sister P. was the saddest missionary. Her testimony was shot and I think she left the church before she ever got home. I tried to contact her but had no luck.

Second, was Elder Magnusen. He was great. A real sweetie. He slept in late and took things easy. He was not a bad missionary, just a sane one. I liked being around him the most because he seemed more mature than the rest even though I have no idea what his age was. He probably would not have served a mission if it wasn't expected of him but he seemed to have a testimony. Elder M.took the fanatical M.P. with a grain of salt. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers. Wonder still if Elder M. made it out of the insanity. He always appreciated that we were on the French Riviera for the sake of the location rather than our mission for being there. Loved that guy.

Back to the OP. The night before we left the mission home in Geneva I talked with the Asst. to the Prez. He laughed and said the Mission Prez. never understood why I wouldn't get on board with his stupid point system for games. The AP said that he admired me for my stance because he felt the same way but didn't dare let on. Wonder what happened to that elder as well. Forgotten his name.

New French soldiers, and rookies in other walks of life, are "bleu" and not green (which would be "vert") as well. As you say, it's a French thing.

pooped, my brother was in the Switzerland-Geneva mission ('77-'79), and spent most of his time on the Riviera (Nice, Cannes, Aix). I went to France-Paris in '79, and was in Paris when he was on his way home, so he got to stop for a day layover and spend a day/night with us. I was so jealous that he was going home and I still had 1 1/2 years...

He told some of the same stories about his mission. I wonder if you two overlapped...?

:)

I'm a tad younger but did the same cities: Cannes, Lyon, Aix, Geneva, Lausanne, etc. The French Riviera is rough duty (chuckle) but somebody had to do it. Don't know how I got so lucky when everyone I knew from home got sent to Mexico or South America. I just expected a Spanish speaking mission. I was out 1986 to 1988. Had they sent me to another mission I might have gotten depressed and gone home early. Oh, well....

I'm almost sure my cousin Doug was in Switzerland, probably 75-77?

One is Jackmo (maybe ex now), his sisters and mother are TBM to the core. His wife is a nevermo - I went to school with her. Hmmm...

cheezus Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Maybe the spirits were witnessing truth
> unto him.

Or maybe he'd just read the actual church stats...? :)

I never had a "last night in the mission home dinner." 'Cause I skipped out (at the MP's suggestion) 3 weeks before my 2 years was up. I had started the first week of January, but there was a group going home before christmas three weeks before I was to go home, I was the only guy in my mission in the early January rotation, and the MP suggested I go with the current group so I could be home for christmas. I had one day notice, and I was so glad to knock 3 weeks of dead time off, so I packed up, took a train to the airport, shook the MP's hand goodbye, and flew home.

That was probably a good thing. I was pretty damn cynical by the end, and might very well have stood up at "testimony" time and said something nasty...I was so ready to be out.

I was so ready to go home after the first day of being on my mission, but because of social pressure to serve an honorable mission, never admitted that to anyone.
When given the opportunity to leave honorably 2 months early I jumped on that plane.
Joseph Smith a polygamist? Good heavens no, that is an anti-Mormon lie. Looking back, I felt tricked to serve a mission and I wish I could go back and apologize to all the folks that I unknowingly taught lies.

At the end of my mission they said that if you can stay active the first 6 months after your mission then you would remain active your whole life. I made it my goal to not be one of those very elect that is deceived in the last days. Darn, I remained fiercely active and believing for almost 20 years after that. I wish I could have possessed critical thinking skills back then. That would have saved me 20 years. Better late than never I guess.

That was me too. Returned from Colombia in March 1994. Left the church in September 2013 - after making several irreversible decisions.

Wish to hell that I'd had the courage and the wisdom to see the sham for what it was and leave much, much sooner. But better late than never. If the MP's statement in the OP is correct, more than half never do advance to that stage.

I don't remember anything about the testimony meeting. When we got back to the hotel, we had a destruction party in the hallway. Cutting up suits, shirts, shoes, books, papers and such we weren't taking home and so on. Catharsis for the crap about a mission and less crud to deal with in suitcase/carry on.

That's what I remember about my last night in Germany.

This got me to thinking about my first and last. First dinner with MP was at his home. His wife was a wonderful cook. He was very kind and his love for the missionaries was obvious.

I compare that with the last dinner with the MP. In this case, then new MP. Instead of his home, it was at a local Munich Weiner wald restaurant. Think Sizzler or Chuck-a-rama quality.

His wife hated being in Germany and complained her kitchen at home was bigger than the downstairs of their house in Munich. She did not want missionaries traipsing through her house. Hence the restaurant. Oh, and it had to be cheap, since he was on a budget. We had just spent two years of our lives, on our own dime, and we get Sizzler?

He dropped us at the hotel the mission used, and told us not to leave the building until they came for us in the morning to take us to the airport.

We were out the back door of the hotel to play in Munich before they were back in their car.

I ca truthfully say I have spoke his name aloud since I came home. He is now dead and buried, which suits me fine.

I will note, though, I am glad I had the 2nd MP so I could compare and contrast, and realize how great the 1st was. We are close to this day.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/22/2017 05:04PM by crathes.

I was in a first world foreign mission that had very few baptisms. I recall that some comps and DLs would talk about all the small business ideas for post mission and what to do after. I never had that kind of advise and was sort of jealous. Finally in one interview about 18 months into it, I asked him for some career or post mission advice that he felt would be good for me. He just looked me straight in the eye and said "Elder that is what the last interview is for. Let's save that discussion for then." Ok. I was disappointed and went along with it eagerly awaiting this last interview where he could give me inspired counsel to benefit my life for my service. There was a small uptick in baptisms in the month I was going home and he was excited about that. During that interview, he was tarted and went on for a while about how we need to keep focused on baptisms in the mission. It occurred to me some where in there that i wasn't going to get what I was hoping for, and I just caved in and did what I had to do to wind up the interview and get out of there. I was pissed that he had his favorites and I was sort of invisible. I got over it, but it was a souring experience to the whole mission. I remember I returned $140 to the mission when we handed in our unused sacred funds. I should have hung onto that..

Yoshihiko Kikuchi also went through the mission and said that if you read the BoM 13 times you will never go inactive. He also told us to do phone book tracking. Look up people by their addresses in the area and call them up and say "hello brother whoever, you have a beautiful family....". He obviously did not understand that would creep any body out and prompt people to retain attorneys and file restraining orders. No one I know did that. Everyone made fun of him for that.

I'm glad that is over. Not sure if I'm Glad I did it or not.

Thanks for posting your memories about missions. I'm glad to know that I wasn't the only twit who stayed out there due to peer and family pressures.

My last night in the mission field was also an odd one. We had dinner, then the MP had us sing a song, and then had a testimony meeting. There were 6 of us going home, I was the last one to bear the all too rehearsed testimony.

By now, it was approx 9pm, and the MP starts to call us in one by one into his office for the so called last "interview,"

My interview time was close to midnight. Being last again, made for little interview time. I told him that i was alright if he just wanted to skip my interview. He surprised the hell out of me and let me go upstairs where our beds were.

I was one of the last "18" month mishies to go home. After Spending 2 months in the MTC, and never really ever believing in mormonism, I would have to say that I really only put in a month of missionary work in the field.

One thing that sticks out is that I did hear that many elders did come home and became gay. To hell with being inactive.....just don't become gay!

Ha

In my exit interview with the MP in the early seventies he basically said the same thing about how many would leave the church. Interestingly, he went further and said that the percentage was extremely high for those who had made it to president's assistant. This was clearly an admonition to guard your testimony.

I was shocked. At the time I had no intention of ever being anything but a faithful member and the percentages he was giving me just didn't seem possible. I was out of the cult in another year and a half.

The MP came home shortly after I did and soon I was invited to a reunion at his house which turned out to be a landscaping party for his new house in Bountiful hills with us providing the free labor. I didn't get a refreshment and felt very uncomfortable. I wish I would have just left but I fooled myself into thinking I was now "family" and did my duty as I always had.

I had been on the MP shit list for quite some time. Some of that was truly my doings, but some of it was the simple fact that he publicly ranked missionaries at the zone conference. Well, he continuously boasted at every meeting that he had become a master Texas BBQ chef. That's right, every missionary was promised "the most fantastic BBQ steak dinner with all the right fixins." This was pounded into our starving minds at every zone conference (ever eat Top Ramen noodles and crackers for weeks because your monthly $125 allotment didn't cut it?)

So when that glorious day arrived to head to the mission home, I did indeed look forward to my well deserved steak dinner. So what was served?

A big pot of over cooked tuna casserole.

We were all handed a plate that was overloaded with the slop with the PH order to eat everything. Yes, it made my queasy stomach purge it all in their royal mission home toilet. Others also had gastrointestinal dilemmas the following day while flying back to SLC. One was rather funny in a unique way. Upon OUR arrival at the airport, he didn't say a word to his waiting family (with signs and balloons) but instead ran past an additional set of arrival gates to the nearest men's room. I wish that I would have been able to record that!

"Honest in all your dealings" dear MP?? "WHERE'S MY STEAK?" Too bad you couldn't tear up your TR in his face and let him know he just put the last nail in the coffin of your faltering testimony. What a toady!!

I really wish that I had the balls to call him out, but I had already sold out to the MP. I had to play his game because I needed his approval to complete a form that would allow me to go home two weeks earlier than the usual one month early.

During my last 6 months, the missionary transfers had switched from the last week of the month to the first week. So the July transfer was early; right after the 4th. However, if I waited until the end of August (my actual 2 year date) then I would go home too late to register for the fall semester. My MP actually called me to tell me the good news that SLC had indeed approved my early dismissal. It was the first time that he called me to say something nice rather than giving me a good tongue lashing. I was so used to hearing "Elder Goop, it's the prez and he wants to have a word with you. He doesn't sound too happy."



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/23/2017 10:58PM by messygoop.

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/23/2017 03:49PM by memikeyounot.

It’s been a very long time since I came home from my mission, but I don’t remember any experiences like those that you are all writing about.

I was in São Paulo, Brasil, and my mission president was Sherman Hibbert, who had a “reputation” for being a hard liner, although my worst experience with him (which I’ve shared here) was at a Zone Conference, where he told 4-5 of us to go shave before we could come back to conference (such punishment). I didn’t have a heavy beard and still to this day can go 2-3 days without shaving. Now that I’m retired, I sometimes go longer.

I was looking forward to going home, traveling with a guy who had been in the LTM with me in Provo and I hadn’t seen him but once in the 2 years. Our flight was to leave in the afternoon (we had arranged to spend a couple of days in Rio de Janeiro) so me and my last companion (can't even think of his name) got in a cab to go to the mission home.

There was no dinner, no singing, no testimony meeting and his wife, who scared me, wasn’t around as I remember. When we got to the airport, driven by the AP in a mission car, there was a big crowd of people and it turned out that Pele’, the world famous soccer player was either leaving or coming back and they were waiting to see him. He dropped us off at the curb, handed us our passports which had been in the mission home for 2 years.

I had forgotten all about it, so I'm glad he had them handy. There were also a couple of member kids, high school age, who came to see me off (but I think they were hoping to see Pele' also)

We got to Rio de Janeiro and it was dark. We had been told we could stay at what was like a hostel, so we took a cab. It was kind of long drive from the airport to the hostel and was kind pricey. The next morning we went out to eat and could see the airport about 3 blocks away. We'd been HAD!~. We spent 2 days visiting the Cristo Redentor statue, Pão de Açúcar,  the beach and going to see the Brazilian version of the musical HAIR!!!

We were flying back the LAX (not sure it was called that in 1970) and were to arrive on Thanksgiving day. I made it home to the SL Airport just about in time for Thanksgiving dinner. The stake president came over to say hello that evening, since he was leaving the next day for a vacation with his family. (He and my dad were very friendly).

I was in the South Dakota Rapid City Mission from 78-80. My last night was in July 1980. It was not particularly memorable. The MP gave a practical speech about adjusting after going home. Everyone bore their testimony but I don't remember exactly what I said although I am sure I said what was expected. I recall the next day very well. That morning I got into one of the mission cars first so there would be no chance of missing the plane. When I boarded I gave a big Richard Nixon salute to everyone watching (at the top of the stairs--there was no ramp connecting the terminal to the plane). I made people wait...sh;t I was excited to go home. No missionary work on the way home. I kept my mouth shut all the way to St. Louis.

For the next several decades I had nightmares that for some reason I decided to do it again. Even as a TBM RM that gave me the creeps...and I really had no horrible experiences on my mission. But, once is enough.

The nightmare of being called back to serve another mission is common. I had that nightmare for about 20 years and was so happy to wake up in the morning, knowing it was just a dream.

Me too. Just shows how traumatizing a mission could be when dreaming that you were re-activated to do it all over again.

I have had that dream also. I was very unsettling.I would like to hear what a psychologist would say about that?

The dreams were worse after I resigned because now I was on a mission as a non-believer. It was awful.

I was plagued with the dreams for decades too. Amazing how common it is among Res. I don't know of any other group that consistently shares a dream so alike.

It's been about eight or nine years since my last one. I hope t his thread doesn't trigger another one. :)

Same here.
And it was always being forced to go, as a non-believer.
More like a nightmare...

Funny how so many of us have similar dreams about our traumatic experience...? :)

I decided not to go to a mission, but after knowing the truth I had a dream where I was in a big building from TSCC, where everyone were TBM's including my parents and me, but I knew the truth and I wanted my parents to know it but I was surrounded by TBM's so I just wanted to be outside of that horrible building and take my parents with me (they weren't divorced in the dream LOL) in a way they wouldn't realize what I was doing.
I just feel so fake and scared the whole dream, it sucked.

All the friends that i had that went all fell away right after except for like 2 of them that i still think go to church.

My mission president, in my final interview, said that 2/3 of RMs go inactive at some point, and only half of them ever return. This was late 90s. He wasn't prophesying though...just giving us stats he got from Salt Lake.

I was in the lobby waiting for a plane from Rio to LA.

Four missionaries were in the lobby with me. They each held a book of mormon. Their challenge was to place it with someone before getting home.

I watched several eyeing the garbage can.

Finally they left one on each of several tables that had reading material.

I didn’t have a last “night” on my mission but I remember my last interview with my MP at a zone conference about 4 months before I went home and the day I flew away.

As the usual "blame the Elder" one sided interview commenced, the MP became unusually hateful and vindictive toward me because this time he stood up from behind the desk and proceeded to yell into my face saying point blank that, "…I was a failure as a missionary…" as he pointed out my lack of baptisms and the low number of investigator discussions indicated on my weekly reports. A week before this Zone Conference, we had baptized a young couple.

Every Zone conference always produced a similar tirade, but for me, this time was the last straw with this GA-wannabe pin head. Too many times did I sit through similar interviews enduring his phony self-righteous indignation and said nothing. But this time, I fired back at him with everything I had.

I stood up from my chair, leaned over his desk and yelled back into his face saying, using several colorful metaphors at a high volume, that he was a f--king failure of a mission president for blaming me for things I had no control over and I was not someone who was motivated by threats. I continued yelling into his face saying that if he was incapable of offering any kind of encouragement, support, or compassion for me or any other missionary who gave up everything to be in this armpit of a place, he was unfit to be here and should go pack his bags, take his clueless wife with his dumb-ass children, and get the hell out of our lives so someone qualified with Christ-like attributes could take his place. I also told him that most of the Elders despised him and wished that they could be transferred to another mission. This man was not the kind of man used to being put in his place by anyone, let alone a lowly elder.

In all my days there, I have never seen him madder but I did not care anymore. He went beyond red faced to purple and began to drool onto the desk. He was so angry he could not speak anymore, and I had run out of colorful metaphors to continue. We stared at each other for a few moments then I turned around and began walking out the room. My last words to him, before I left the room, were that I would never speak with him again for any reason. I walked out and left him sitting there with his little puddle of drool on the desk and I never did speak to him again for the last 4 months of my mission.

I needed to go to the mission home to get my plane tickets. I rebuffed every prodding from the office elders to go and have the customary last interview with the mission president. Because of the falling out that I had with him that I mentioned earlier, nothing anyone said would change my mind about not talking one last time to that bastard. Any communication with him had been fatally terminated four months prior, and while I was there in the mission home, I did not even acknowledge his presence.

His clueless wife, Loya, tried to goad me into talking with her husband but I was immune to her tactics by now. Frank & Loya’s chance to be any kind of surrogate parents to me had long since passed. Frank’s never-ending harassments and Loya’s condescending speeches were more than I could take. If my parents were like that, I would have put myself up for adoption long ago. Looking up from my Newsweek magazine, I gave Loya a look that would have shriveled a rock, said nothing, and went back to my reading. She huffed off and was probably thinking "…how dare this lowly elder brush me off..." But I didn't care anymore what she or her pin-head husband thought. To me, they were now person’s non-grata. I just wanted out of there as soon as possible. My skin was beginning to crawl from being around so many Idaho/Utah/Arizona factory elders.

When I was on the plane home to California a few hours later, I was so happy that I would never have to go out and knock on another door and try to convince an already happy person, that they could become happier if they alienate themselves from extended family and friends, gave up 10% of their paycheck, sacrificed their free time from being with their families to perform smothering religious duties and endless callings, and eventually, earn the opportunity to pantomime disemboweling themselves while dressed up as the Pillsbury Dough Boy inside a building that looks like a bowling trophy.

Holy Crap!

Were you done when you got home? Any church activity post mission? What did you do for the remaining 4 months of the mission? Any 'work'?

For the remaining 4 months, I had checked out mentally. I refused to fill out any weekly reports. I just existed there so my parents could have their bragging rights in their ward of having an RM son. This was in 1979. By 1990, I resigned my membership.

My parents always blamed that mission experience for driving me out of the church. My mother (may she RIP), kicked herself very hard for years for not telling me that I could come home after she learned of the horror experiences I endured out in the Virginia Roanoke Mission. The MP, Frank Moscon, is long since dead (1986). And I could not be less sad. I hope he died a long, drawn out, agonizing death, in searing pain. He deserved nothing less.

How did they process the events when you described it to them? Did you tell them prior to the end of the mission?

I don't remember the last time I enjoyed reading something as much as I enjoyed that. Wow.

I'm waiting for the movie!!!!!!

My mission ended differently than I expected. I had about a month to go when we were visited by traveling elders who told me I was being released early in just a few days. My father, a farmer, was having a bad year financially and he had contacted the stake president to see if I could come home early to help with the harvest. I was not consulted by my father or anyone else. The stake president must have agreed and made the arrangements.

I was decidedly of two minds. I felt guilty for not serving the full two years and I felt quite annoyed at not being consulted about leaving early. The other side was that I was so sick of being a missionary that I was thrilled to get out of there a month early.

I was simply told to go home. My companion dropped me at the train station (1963) where I got on the train alone and enjoyed the 2 day ride back home. My father picked me up at the train station. I do remember giving a return home talk in Sacrament meeting, but I do not recall a bishop interview.

It never occurred to me as a missionary that I was a volunteer and as an American had rights. If I had realized that I would probably have come home soon after I got there or at least would have served on my terms instead of following the heavy-handed Mission rules.

I had that same nightmare others have mentioned about going back on a mission. It was scary.

I refuse to give any testimonial the evening before I came home. I just said I'll pass and left it at that.
I never got released and never gave a welcome home talk, I knew BS when I saw and taught it. I was a hypocrite and I did not come home early. I regret that.. huge waste of 2yrs.
I think I hold the record for standing dry humping my girlfriend in the grape vine of home within 30 minutes of 'getting off' the plane.

Ha! It was about three weeks after getting home before I got to dry hump. She loved it, during..., but afterwards we had to pray for forgiveness. Swear to ghawd! The same exact thing happened on our second date, but this time I had kleenex in my garments (the old one-piece), so it wasn't as messy. And we got to pray again.

There was no third date, and I so I moved on to my temple bride.

Beware, IH8ted my mission, there is a new committee form by the Quorum of the 12, called "Finding Old Unreleased Missionaries. You will be found, dragged out of your house, and flown immediately to Provo and the MTC. There, your punishment will be having you sent back to your last area for an additional 6 months of tracting. :)

Two notable things:

I had been sick for several months, including being hospitalized for several weeks. I remained under doctors care until the 2 month early conclusion of my Full / FOOL time MORmON mission.

Because my exit had been early, I did NOT depart with my original MTC group, which was just fine by me, because I really just wanted to get the Hell out of THE mission field much more than anything else, like attempting to be chummy with other missionaries that I really only had a very superficial relationship with. Besides there was one POS elder in my MTC group that I had been assigned to work with later on and I ended up knocking him out.

I want to say he totally deserved it. I had other "problem" missionary ( just as the mission office viewed me as a problem elder for no other reason than I failed to kiss the MP's ass) work partners and I got along with them just fine.

This was NOT a petty squabble about dirty dishes or tooth paste specks on the mirror that escalated into a fight. At one point the elder had put broken glass on the floor that I stepped in when I got up in the morning, just as he had planned /intended. He laughed about it, saying it was what I deserved, because he felt that I was inferior to him as a missionary. That was just one of several very troubling incidents. The bottom line is that the guy should have been sent home, but it would have taken a functional mission president to do that. So True to ( FUCKED UP) MORmON ways, that elder was eventually promoted to zone leader, while there was nothing but contempt for me in the Mission office.

I should have knocked him out at the time over the broken glass on the floor. Finally, When he started blatantly trashing the investigators right to their faces, I refused to tolerate being with him any more, as it was completely contrary to our SACRED goal as missionaries to try to convert people. I then attempted call the mission office to inform them that I was no longer going to work with this person who was a traitor and an agent of the enemy in the great all critical war of MORmON missionary work. He attempted to block my use of the phone as I was attempting to call the mission office on the matter, then he got knocked out.

The guy had a ward in Richfield, Utah sponsoring his mission. They were really getting ripped off. He was essentially on vacation. He amused himself by making other people absolutely miserable. I had moved way too many sprinkler pipes, stacked way too much hay, picked way too much lava rock out of potato fields to pay for my mission to be putting up with his blatantly subversive efforts that he felt so entitled to engage in for his own gratification and amusement instead of doing missionary work. I never wanted to see that POS again !!! Besides, under the circumstances, the people who really cared about me became very apparent, and NONE of those people were in my original MTC group, or in the (FUCKING) mission office .......or at my home posing as my parents for that matter, which kind of takes up back to the first point -parents and the way that they should care about what happens to their children, even on a MORmON mission.

In the MTC/ mission group that I did go home with, there was one elder who had obviously suffered an extreme emotional break down. He was my zone leader when it happened almost a year earlier, so I was familiar with the details of what had happened.

The stake mission president - a former (super ass hole super nazi ) AP in another mission had gone crazy on the elder as the SMP caught the ZL reading a news paper in a mall. The mental and emotional trauma of the ordeal was enough that the missionary imploded psychologically, a bad situation made even worse because our totally gutless MP did nothing to stick up for the missionary, even siding with the SMP. The mental break down of the missionary became blatantly obvious. the guy went downhill fast. Shaking, stuttering, stammering. Taking note of that extreme down ward plunge, some of us wondering what would be next or if the guy would just completely shut down. Even more remarkable was that NOTHING was done his condition!!!!! That guy just stuttered and stammered and shook, and completed his mission in that very hobbled mental state. thankfully he never started drooling on himself.

That guys parents came out to the mission to pick him up and to tour Church history sites to conclude his mission.

I can still remember sitting at the table at dinner that evening and watching the looks on his parent's faces as they tried to discern what had really happened to their formerly normal vibrant son who was now a thick headed sluggish dopey stranger to them. After a while of struggling to interpret the blatant ugly signs of a mental crash and the attendant disability, the father became visibly irate, wondering how such a thing had happened and who was responsible. He kept switching back and forth between looking at his son and the mission pres. The mission pres was doing an oscar winning job of ignoring the situation and pretending that everything was just fine. The mother was losing a hard fought battle to hold back her tears.

AFter getting through that deal, then the farewell phone calls came flooding in. I had already said good bye to everyone that I cared about, they knew it and I knew it. I was exhausted and just wanted to get what ever semblance of sleep that I could in such a mad house ( extremely uncomfortable) setting. After midnight, after dozens of phone calls for others, it was announced that there was a phone call for me. Completely bewildered, I went to answer the phone. It was a marriage proposal from a young woman as coaxed by her ward mutual leader.

In repsonse I said that I was NOT interested in getting married in general, let alone specifically. maybe that was a lousy cop out ......but what the Hell else was I supposed to say !!!!!! It was a completely ridiculous (MORmON) situation as precipitated by whacky MORmONS and MORmONISM.

In summary, it was another highly unpleasant .....HIGHLY UNPLEASANT day in the ULTRA MISERABLE MORmON mission field. The only good thing about it was that it was the very LAST days of that specific kind of MORmON CRAP.

Regarding the proposal... Was this a young woman? As in under 18? Did you ask if she was almost 15? It would be funny to creep her out and ask what she looked like, what is she wearing, start the phone sex thing with her. Just bad on so many levels...

Or accept the proposal and say you expect to be married tomorrow night because there are so many things you need to do to alleviate the stress of the 2 year mission.



There was a DL I had that got married 2 days after getting home. I talked to him years after he was married and said it was a weird experience. He didn't feel that he had time to process what happened on the mission, nor did he date and find himself or what he wanted in a spouse. I felt for him. It is interesting to wonder what dating would be knowing what I know now rather than not even dating at all. I cannot remember how he met this girl. That is a strange story to me.

I knew who the girl was. She was 16 or 17. Her friend got engaged to a missionary in the mission that she had never actually met, only talked to him on the phone.

The girl that called me lived in an area where I had been assigned to work. I was in that area 6 or 7 months, baptized a family with a single male parent there. Her parents house was 5 or 6 blocks from our missionary apartment. So we were in the same ward. Her older sister ended up marrying my convert from that area. any thing that looked even remotely eligible for marriage was stalked like crazy by the LDS females in that area. I am still friends and in contact with that convert guy, 35 years later. He helped me exit the MORmON cult. That marriage turned out to be a huge disaster, that ended in divorce.

cheezus Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Regarding the proposal... Was this a young woman?
> As in under 18? Did you ask if she was almost 15?

one of my missionary work partners for that area was engaged to a 15 year girl from another area that he had previously worked in. Her mom was pushing that arrangement. The most elementary inspection of the situation showed that they had become engaged when she was only 14. It was his last three months when we were assigned together. When I hinted to him that he might want to consider other options besides rushing into a marriage with a 15 year old, he conveyed that information to the mother, she despised / loathed me for that. They did not get married. The mom was even more furious then. thankfully, I was never in an area around her after that.

> There was a DL I had that got married 2 days after
> getting home.

Leave it to (the pressure cooker of) MORmONISM to precipitate (idiot) outcomes like that!