2000 September 16 Saturday

 "It's amazing how near-death experiences bond people."

I awake at 7 on a celestial Saturday morning. I ride through the forest and over the bridge to the subway.

I arrive at the church at Lincoln Square just in time. He fills my cup to finish off the juice. I eat three Krispy Kremes as the congregation sings Come, Come Ye Saints.

Andrew (Sandgren?) looks like a reliable driver, and his van looks empty. Britta Jensen drives our van and almost kills us. She also gives us something to laugh and reminisce about for years to come.

I feel free and far away. We park and ride in a school bus to the temple. The structure still needs some work. But it's beautiful. The Spirit overpowers me.

The refreshment tent is a natural progression from the celestial room. I eat and enjoy cookies of all kinds.

Then we go to Boston, and I am 17 again as I am on my first trip there: Harvard University, Faneuil Hall, Quincy Market, 95 South.

I ride with sisters who become friends or stars in my early New York City universe: Relief Society president Lisa Farr, Rachael Hawkins, Karyn Mann, Kathleen Stone.

Exhausted, I drive for an hour and a half on the way home.

When the van approaches the George Washington Bridge on the New Jersey side at 2:30 in the morning, I abruptly hop out at the toll booth, saving myself hours of backtracking in the middle of the night.

Babe's Taxi brings me home. Two miles for $7.00. If I know the cost, I would walk.

It's one of only a few times I ever take a taxi anywhere over the next 20 years.