“You Can't Sluf Ward Choir Practice!” (Part 3 of 5)

Earlier, when I was fifteen, it seemed Dad could do no right. I was at an age when I couldn’t seem to agree with Dad on a lot of things. When Mom and Dad planned their family before any of us where born, they decided they’d skip over having any teenagers. Well it didn’t work out quite that way. And then in late August of 1977, the day before I was to begin high school, we attended a tri-ward sacrament meeting where our ward boundaries were re-drawn. This was a common occurrence that happened every few years. What made this one different was that Dad was called into the bishopric of the South Cottonwood Eleventh Ward. When his name was presented to become the second counselor in the bishopric, I thought,” Wow, my Dad’s in the bishopric!” I stood up to let him out of our folding chair row in the over-flow area of the gym. Dad slid by me and I shock his hand and tried to offer my congratulations to him. All I could say was “Wow!” I was three weeks short of my sixteenth birthday and my opinion of Dad improved by quantum leaps.