Mormon Yankees

I Home-Teach Blaine Worthen.  He served a mission in Queensland, Australia in the mid 1950s.  Blaine played a lot of basketball on his mission; it was sanctioned by the Church as a missionary tool.  The "Mormon Yankees" basketball teams were extremely popular all over Australia.  I discovered just recently that the Church actually chose missionaries for Australia, based upon their basketball skills.  I never knew that...and apparently neither did the missionaries at the time.  But Blaine and I often reminise about our basketball days. 

Just recently a sister from Queensland came up to Logan to visit Blaine.  Violet Bailey, stayed with us for a week.  She was actually born in the Church...at 74 she is a genuine pioneer in the Australian Church.  She is in Utah for three months doing Family History research.  It turned out that Violet (Vi) remembers the Mormon Yankees well...attended games in which Blaine played...and loved to play basketball herself.  So we had a great time talking about days gone by...and basketball in Australia.

Two of my long-time Jaycee friends were missionaries in Queensland and played with the Mormon Yankees.  Lanny Gunnell passed away too young.  Lanny Nalder lives in Providence, so I took Vi over to see him.  Nalder was a star player all his life.  We had a great time talking about basketball in Australia. 

Then quite remarkably, a few days later, Blaine Worthen called to tell us to watch BYU Channel 21, because there was a special about the Mormon Yankees in Australia.  It absolutely blew me away.  I played basketball with the Mormon Yankees in Western Australia, but I had no idea of the impact which basketball had on the Church.  All I knew was that I played with missionaries who were the best players I had ever seen.  It was a privilege just to be on the same team with them.  We were never beaten.  We played the WA State team and beat them easily.  In fact, that was the first televised basketball game in Western Australia, and I scored the first two points on a layup.

The BYU program  featured Australian basketball players who uniformly agreed that the Mormons raised the level of basketball in Australia to new heights...and they uniformly expressed great respect for the missionaries as individuals and players.  The 1956 Summer Olympics were held in Melbourne and the Mormon Yankees were asked to train and help prepare the Australian Olympic team for their first Olympics.  When the international basketball teams started arriving in Australia, they were looking for teams to play practice games.  The Olympic Committee invited the Mormon Yankees to play many of the teams.  Incredibly they beat every team except the Russians and the US team who won the silver and gold medals respectively. They beat the French and Chinese teams twice.

You can imagine how proud the members of the Church were in Australia.  And the positive publicity about the Mormon Yankees opened doors all over the country for missionary work.  The missionaries conducted basketball clinics for young people, played local teams and handed out thousands of Books of Mormon.  Some of the Mormon Yankees, now old men, were interviewed on the BYU program.  They talked about experiences like people rushing the court, after an exhibition game, just to touch them; they were icons...they were as popular as the Globetrotters.

So I had no idea that the two seasons I spent with the Mormon Yankees in Perth were so unique.  I was playing basketball with the University of Western Australia when I joined the Church.  Since there were no other Universities in Western Australia, we played in the City leagues.  I started in the D league and was playing A Reserve when I joined the Church.  The year before (1960) I had travelled to the Gold Coast in Queensland (by train) with the WA University team to play in the bi-annual Inter-Varsity Competition.  I actually played against some of the Aussie blokes featured in the BYU film.  Some of you may recall me telling the story about our first game against the University of South Australia.  Our boys were all drunk from a beer drinking competition the night before.  We had to dress our best player, but he could not even stand.  That was the only basketball game I have ever heard of being lost by 100 points.  The score was 128 to 28.

A year later (June 1961) I joined the Church...a life changing event as you can imagine.  Elder Bruce R. McConkie became the Mission President a month later.  Unknown to me was the fact that missionary basketball had been curtailed by the new Mission President in Sydney.  The missionaries in Perth prevailed upon President McConkie to let them play basketball and he agreed.  But he had conditions.  One condition was that the Mormon Yankees should have two local boys on the team.  I was recruited away from the University of WA team.  My Aussie team-mates were not happy, and I sat on the bench a lot, but...and I can't emphasize this enough...it was an honor and a privilege...and an incredible education... to play on that Mormon Yankee team.

Our two real stars were Elders Schumway and Fotheringham.  I realize now that they were probably handpicked to serve as missionaries in Australia.  Physically they looked like twins...both 6' 4"...both quick as cats...and both with what looked to me like 36" vertical leaps.  I had never seen anything like those two.  They were awesome players.  I have never forgotten them.  I have often wondered where they are.

For many years I kept my Mormon Yankees jacket, # 10 shirt and shorts, but I must have reluctantly given them up during one of my infrequent clean-outs.  The only relic I retained from those days is the tongue out of one of my Converse Chuck Taylor gymn shoes, on which I had written:
"A. WEGENER, MORMONS, WA."

Check out Google and Youtube :
"Mormon Yankees: Giants on and off the Court".

Blue Suede Desert Boots

One of my elementary school friends sent me a video of a couple demonstrating Rock'n'Roll dancing...asking...do you remember when? It brought back lots of wonderful memories. 

When I was 16, Rock'n'Roll was all the rage...and I was a dancin' fool. I loved it. It was called "Jitterbug" in the US...but we called it "Jive"...and it was wild. Back in my dancin’ days I wore tight jeans and had a pair of blue suede desert boots. I'm not sure why they were called "desert boots", but I was cool…and I used to go dancin’ every weekend at the Floreat Park Tennis Club…and occasionally at the "Snakepit", which was an open-air dance floor at Scarborough Beach. When Andy and I were last in Perth I showed him a plaque in the sidewalk, which commemorated where the infamous "Snakepit" used to be located.

A couple of weeks back I was in the Sportsman shopping for sox.. There was a display of men’s shoes. Right there in front of me was a pair of blue suede desert boots…exact replicas of my 1956 models.

As I stood there staring, a young salesman came up and said “May I help you sir?” I did not respond. He said again “Sir…may I help you”. I came back to reality and said. “I’m not sure…at this very moment I am in Australia…it’s 1956…and I am dancin’ in my blue suede desert boots.” Of course he gave me that strange look that hip young men give not so hip old men. I tried to explain:

“Do you know how special these shoes are?”…
”No”
”Have you ever heard Elvis Presley sing about his Blue Suede Shoes?”…
”No”
“Well son…you missed out...you’ve got a lot of livin' to do”.

I should have bought those shoes…but on the other hand I don’t have any skinny jeans…and I really don’t like blue suede shoes that much any more. But I did love dancin'...and Jivin'.

The Australian Christmas Tree

We had a great pre-Christmas Sacrament meeting today.  The main speaker was Elder Cherrington.  He talked about Christmas in Japan with his family where, because of his lack of understanding about international power incompatabilities, their US bought Christmas lights burned out in minutes.  So they celebrated Christmas without Christmas lights.  But it was OK.  The Spirit of Christmas was with them; they celebrated the Birth of Christ with their family.  Lack of lights did not dim their special Christmas.

This past week I was asked to talk about “Christmas in Australia”, to Mrs Theobald’s 2^nd Grade class in Nibley.  She wanted the children to learn about different Christmas traditions around the world.  I enjoyed reminiscing about Christmases past in Australia.  The big difference about Christmas in Australia of course, is that it is summer in Australia right now, and all the children are on their summer break from school.  And because it is summer, it is hot, sometimes really hot.  I remember having Christmas one year on the Conning farm, in Katanning, WA, when it was 112 degrees.  And because it is hot, the beach plays a huge role in Australian Christmases.  People have Christmas dinner, then go to the beach.  Or they might have a barbie on the beach.

I did a little on-line research and noticed that the OZ culture has changed in the past 46 years.  For example, when I was a child “Santa Claus” was pretty much an unknown entity…”Father Christmas” was our main man.  He is the same jolly old fellow as we know and love in the USA, but there are still differences.  In Australia Santa now uses “boomers” (big kangaroos) to pull his sleigh, and sometimes he doesn’t even use a sleigh…he arrives by boat…on the beach.

There were no traditional live Christmas trees available when I was a child…and no artificial trees, so we got creative.  The Knowles family always decorated a banksia tree, which I loved.  That was a real  Christmas tree to me.  One of my fondest memories was a Chrsitmas tree which I made; it was a dead branch which I painted white, then decorated with tinsel and paper decorations .  I loved that “tree”.

So as I searched on-line for photos of Christmas in Australia, I found one which really touched my heart.  It is wonderful; a little girl, on the beach, admiring her Christmas tree, which is made of dead sticks, decorated with a single ribbon…and a STAR.  That simple star tells a powerful story…of Joseph and Mary, Wise-Men from afar, Shepherds in their fields by night, Choirs of Angels…and the baby Jesus, born in a manger…yet King of Kings.

13 Hours in the Seattle Airport

Last Thursday I flew from Sidney, Vancouver Island, to Seattle, intending to catch the 7:20 AM flight to Salt Lake City.  I was travelling Standby.  The flight was overbooked.  So was every flight thereafter.  I made it out on the 8:00 PM flight.  I cannot recommend 13 hours in any airport to anyone, however, as I thought about that experience the next day, I realized that it was a very special day...because of the people I met.

The first was a young, black, Muslim woman, wearing a head scarf, whom I discovered later in the day was also travelling standby.  I think that she was straight out of Africa, because her English was halting... and I don't think that she had ever encountered an escalator.  It was on the the escalator that I first met her.  She was frantic and she could not control her bags.  I helped her gather her things, but she was on the verge of tears.  She had no idea how to find her departure gate.  When I told her about the train system she was obviously horrified.  So I took her for a train ride and delivered her to her gate.  The Seattle Airport is huge, but I ran into this woman again...twice...which I thought was strange.  She had missed her first flight and was looking for another gate.  She was obviously too timid and stressed to ask for help.  Since I was all over the airport waiting at various gates, I was surprised to find her sitting at another gate while that flight was boarding.  I asked if she was OK.  She was not.  It was then that I checked her ticket and discovered that she was on standby.  But she was not aware that she needed to check to see if she was on the standby list.  The last I saw her she was sitting close to the gate counter under the watchful eye of a helpful agent...but she was clutching her bag tightly and still had that wide-eyed look of desperation. 

An old man caught my attention about noon.  He must have been in his nineties.  He could hardly walk.  I did not realize that he was also flying standby until later... and he was alone.  He had missed a couple of flights when I next saw him.  His name was Antonio Gomez.  He was not paying attention to the boarding process.  When the gate agent called for Antonio Gomez...he was nowhere to be found.  I told the agent that I would find him and bring him back.  I did...and the agent was grateful...but not grateful enough to find me a seat.

Then I met Mr. Huang.  This was a remarkable experience...like none I have ever had before.  We were in the Delta Service line.  He was talking on a cell phone in Mandarin.  When he closed his conversation, I thought I heard him say "Aloha".  So I said..."Excuse me...did you just say Aloha?".  He laughed and said "Oh no."  I told him that that my son-in-law could speak Mandarin fluently.  He asked how that could be possible.  I responded that Shane had lived in Taiwan for two years.  He said..."Two years is not enough to become fluent"...I said... "He was immersed in the culture." to which he responded "Why?".  That of course led to an explanation of the Mormon Missionary Program...and he began asking questions...question after question. 

We were in line for about 45 minutes and when my new friend was done, I was surprised that he waited for me.  I apologized a couple of times for possibly boring him...but he insisted that I was not.  He then asked if we could sit and talk a little more.  An hour later we were still talking.  We covered Missionaries and the cultural blessings of young men and women living in foreign lands, learning languages and loving the people. We discussed the history of the Church...polygamy...Warren Jeffs.  We talked about the organization of the Church... Wards and Stakes... the Welfare Program... International Relief efforts...and FAMILY.  He was really interested in everything about the Mormon view of Family.  He asked why Mormons had large families...why young people were encouraged to marry young...but he began to answer his own questions eventually.  It occurred to me later that we were really discussing "The Fruits of the Gospel".  He even suggested that the USA would be a much better place if all lived the Mormon lifestyle.  I have had people ask questions before, but never like this man.

I then noticed that I had overlooked the time and had to run.  My new friend gave me his card and I gave him my email addresss.  He was a PhD chemist and biologist, on his way to a conference in China.  (I hesitate to identify him further in this open blog.  I checked him out on the internet...he is a very distinguished scholar...wow!) He then did something remarkable.  He said that he travelled a lot and suggested that if he came through Utah sometime in the future...maybe we could get together.  I told him that my wife and I would be delighted to drive down from Logan to meet him.  He said "No...I mean...may I come to Logan and visit you in your home...and meet your family?"  I was a little stunned, but agreed.  Then, as we parted, he made a classic statement, which tended to explain what was going on between us.

"15 years ago...two Mormon boys knock on my door...I invite them in...we talk...I never forget."

Young men and women who are contemplating missions need to learn from this man's experience.  They do not yet understand the power which they will have as missionaries... Power to change lives forever ...or to leave lasting impressions.  If young people will be Obedient to the Prophet's call to serve; if they will be Obedient to their Mission Presidents, if they will seek the Spirit of the Lord; if they will Prepare and remain Pure...they will have POWER beyond their comprehension.

Tough Little Tomatoes

I must confess to having a few hangups...or...compulsions.  I do love my vegetable garden and it gives me great pleasure to tend it, watch it develop...and win the battle of the weeds.  This year I bought and planted 36 tomato plants.  Most are doing well...healthy and strong...producung green tomatoes at present.  You might think that 36 tomato plants would be enough to feed the neighborhood...and you would be correct...but I have a certain compulsion. 

Every summer a number of tomato seeds from previous years actually germinate and grow.  A few always survive the tilling process and apparently get just enough water to thrive.  It is really a small miracle.  Each little "volunteer" tomato plant competes with whatever is in its space...and almost shouts to the world..."look at me".  Of course I have no idea what sort of tomatoes they might produce, or even if they will produce before the winter chill hits them, but somehow I feel great affection for each survivor.  So each year I carefully transplant them into locations where they will receive regular TLC.  I notice that they always survive the transplanting process...they immediately droop, but they bounce back over night...they are tough...they are survivors.  This year there are 22 survivors. 

Each of them deserves a chance at life...I can give it to them...so I do.  I know...it's a little weird....but there are life lessons to be learned from nature...and tough little "volunteer" tomato plants...like... Never Give Up...and... Always Trust the Master Gardner.

Red Hearts - Random Thoughts

Each year at our Reunion at Bear Lake, either Kathie or I make a presentation about one or more of our ancestors. It was Kathie's turn this year. She chose to present her G G Grandparents, Jeremiah Robey Jr. and his wife Ruth Tucker...plus her very colorful G Grandfather Nathan Chatmond Springer. In support of Kathie's preparation I made a large Pedigree Chart of Kathie's ancestors. She has a most interesting ancestry, which deserves recognition since Pionner Day is coming up this month:

All 8 of Kathie's G Grandparents crossed the Great Plains to Utah. One was even born on the trek in Iowa. Two were not LDS when they made the trek across the USA. One was a teamster (wagon driver) in a wagon train passing through Utah. He dropped off in Utah, married a Mormon girl and became a Mormon.  One was in the US Cavalry and came to Utah with Johnson's Army on a mission to destroy the Mormons. He deserted, married a Mormon girl, became a Mormon and was never found by the US Government. Note that Mormon girls are the common denominator here.

Working with New Family Search I identified which of Kathie's ancestors were the first to join the LDS Church in each family line. Some were of the 4th generation and some the 5th. We identified each of these with a RED HEART to honor their faith, courage and lifetime of commitment.

Since June was the 50th anniversiary of the baptism of my late mother Sylvia and myself into the LDS Church in Australia, this was an opportunity to express appreciation for that life-changing event. I bore my testimony of the Father and the Son, Joseph Smith, the Book of Mormon and the truthfullness of the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ. I told my children and grandchildren that I had learned a lot in my 70 years, but I also told them I had not learned anything with more certainty...than...this Church is TRUE.

President Gordon B Hinckley once presented a wonderful line, which I like to borrow. "Every good thing which has come into my life, including my marriage to my sweetheart, I owe to my membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints". To that I can only say AMEN!"

So I was pondering all the wonderful people who have influenced me for good along the way...and I was listing in my mind all of the positions which I have had over the past 50 years. Then I had a couple of those sometimes useful Random Thoughts.

1. I thought of "Fidler on the Roof". Tevia asks his wife "Do you love me?" To which she replies with a litany of services which she has provided throughout their married life...and suggests "if this is not love then I don't know what is. But Tevia persists..."But...Do you love me?" She finally relents with... "I guess I love you". That made me think that 50 years of Service to the Lord may be impressive...but the Savior might reasonably say..."That's nice Tony...but do you love me?"   Just as Tevia simply needed to hear the words, so we might conclude that it is important to let our Father and His Son know that we love them...verbally.

2. I also thought of Jeffer's comments as a six year old, which I blogged about earlier. We had a disagreement at the dinner table...he worked himself up into an emotional state, threw up and ran to his room. After a cooling-off period I went to Jeff's room and had a chat. He said some remarkable things for a six year old..."How come you are so mean to me?...How come you won't let me be mine own self?" Then he told me that he did not feel loved...which was amazing...since he was the youngest of seven, and adored by his siblings. So we talked about that for a while. I assured Jeff that he was loved very much. During the conversation I suggested that it was certainly important for him to feel loved, but I also asked if he ever thought that his parents might need to feel loved also. His response was a remarkably honest ..."Well I do love you...but it wears off."

Of course that wisdom from a six year old underscores that we are all human...and suggests that we need to contemplate our love for our Father in Heaven and His Son Jesus Christ...And we need to express it often...because...unless we are careful...it can wear off.

“Jodhpur Flying Club” – The Rest of the Story

How weird is this? Last Tuesday, June 27, 2011, I opened my blog, intending to review blogs by family members, and just by chance noticed a new comment to one of my old blogs.

"Dear Tony, May I have your e-mail address? I need to communicate with you for a story for my magazine, India Today. My e-mail is: pariharrohit@gmail.com
Rohit Parihar/India Today/Jaipur.
June 27, 2011 3:54 AM

What is strange is that the blog was only posted last Tuesday...and I found it, quite accidentally, the same day. I immediately thought Rohit must have been one of Jeff's Indian friends from Pittsburgh, but not so; he was an assistant editor of an Indian magazine writing an article about the accidental death of Maharaja Hanwant Singh on January 26, 1952, in Jodhpur...and he was desperately searching for a book titled "History of the Jodhpur Flying Club".

While Andy and I were in Jodhpur last year, we purchased "History of the Johdpur Flying Club". Because Andy was a pilot I thought he might find it interesting reading. It turned out to be a gold mine of information...and I wrote a blog about the book upon our return. It essentially explained how my father, Allan R. Wegener, came to be private pilot to the Jodhpur Royal Family. The accidental death of 28 year old Maharaja Hanwant Singh, broke the heart of Geoff Godwin, who had been the private pilot/instructor to the Jodhpur Royal Family, for 20 years. He taught the young Maharaja to fly. Geoff retuned to England in November 1952. The death of the Maharaja also led to Hanwant's younger brother Himmat Singhji being installed as the Regent, or interim Maharaja of Johpur. And it was His Highness Himmat Singhji, who hired my father as private pilot to the Royal Family, replacing Geoff Godwin, in April 1953.

So the book was special to Andy and me. It was authored by Peter Vacher and Robert Godwin, grandson of Geoff Godwin. In my blog about the book I noted that Andy and I wanted to make contact with Robert Godwin. Our efforts to find Robert failed.

But to add to the weirdness, it occurred to me tonight that I ought to check my blog to see if there might be other comments which I had missed. I found the following...dated June 25 2011...which was just last Saturday:

"Hi Tony, Nice to see that you picked up on the Jodhpur book. My grandfather was Geoff Godwin. Sounds like our families had a lot in common! Cheers, Robert Godwin."

I was stunned...I don't believe in coincidences, but this is really weird. And I was disappointed. Robert did not leave an email address. So if you are out there Robert...and I know that you are...send me an email mate at tonyw@designwestarchitects.com