Konold Chronicles

Every morning, we have a prayer meeting with our group in Frankfurt.  Recently each has been telling a story (testimony or something in their work).  This morning, one of the attorneys in Frankfurt who works on Visas (bless his heart), told of an experience spanning over the last several days, but culminating today.  The Rome Temple has been a real challenge—to put it mildly.  It has become necessary to send two more construction supervisors from SLC to Rome.  The Visa and work permit challenges were insurmountable and I can’t even recall all the hurdles.  It involved US Social Security, Italian Social Security, the State Departments of both countries.  In the course of it all, both families had to be physically present in Italy to make certain applications.  However, they had to complete the process in less than about 2 weeks or they would be sent home to start over.  As the attorney in Frankfurt went through the several hurdles, each one would historically require 2-6 weeks to accomplish.  Documents had to be prepared, translated (by a government certified translator), certified by proper authorities and then attached to an apostille (a glorified notary) and the originals delivered to the officials in Italy.  As it turned out all of this was accomplished in one day (the day before the families would have had to return).  Those involved in the process are certain there was divine intervention—and it would be difficult to argue the point.  Sometimes mountains do need to be moved—nuisance that they are.

“Bank holidays” here are serious business. Everything shuts down and no one is expected to work.  Our office was closed, so we took off Thurs. afternoon and headed, by train, to Edinburgh—the first time to Scotland for us.  A few observations:  1. there is a remote possibility that you can understand perhaps 1 in 5 words if you ask them to repeat slowly; 2.  they really do wear kilts—a lot of them; 3.  they can out-drink the Irish; 4.  they are very proud of their history and don’t have a fondness for the English.  We were very fortunate to have good weather.  In fact, the last two days were absolutely stunning.  Very clear, blue skies and temperatures in the 60’s—which to us (both of us) felt warm.  We did most of the pure tourist things:  The castle, Holyrood House (Queens’s summer palace), the royal yacht Britannia, art gallery, cathedrals, and, of course, shopping and WALKING.  Mom spent a lot of time with Greyfriars Bobby (the dog that sat on his master’s grave every night for 14 years), and with the Lewis chess pieces at the museum of natural history.

Since this was conference weekend, we did make an effort to find a chapel.  I did find one about 2 miles from our hotel and walked there Sunday morning—thinking that is when they would re-broadcast Priesthood.  There was not a soul at the church and I could not raise anyone at the mission home/office next door.  I would have liked to have met some of the people in the mission office as I work with them (by phone) quite a bit.  I can only surmise they were at a stake center somewhere attending a session.  We were able to watch a couple of sessions via the Internet back at the hotel—so all was not lost. 

We found the Scots to be a friendly group—as long as you initiate the conversation.  The landscape—particularly on the trip there and back was stunning.  So much pasture land and so many sheep.  The textile industry is all but dead in the UK but they still produce and export a lot of wool.  On the way up, we saw no sheared sheep; but on the way back, several—so I guess the season has begun.  Idols of Scotland are Rabbie Burns, J.K. Rowlings, Robert Lewis Stevenson, Sean Connery,  One of the most curious things to me is the number of people who say they would like to come to America to visit Graceland.  I’m pretty sure I would not visit Graceland if I were in Memphis.

The Edinburgh Castle, like many in the UK, is very well “preserved” which means it has been rebuilt several times.  When Robert the Bruce recaptured the Edinburgh Castle (with 30 men against 300 Englishmen) he ordered the entire castle destroyed because they could not commit the number required to defend it and didn’t want to re-take it again.  In those days (14th century) the Scots didn’t really have an army, when they had to go to war, they would go and recruit support from as many clans as they could muster.  When the battle was over—the clansmen returned to their homes.  I don’t think I can understand how it must have felt to grow up worried every day who, when, and how someone was going to try to steal your freedom and enslave you. And death was so in your face every day.  We heard about a wife of a king whose husband accused her, probably correctly, of conspiring to over through him.  She was sentenced to live in a wooden and iron cage outside the castle wall—where she stayed for 4 years.  Do you know how cold it gets up here?  And how hard the wind blows?  Mary, Queen of Scots spent 14 years in prison in London tower and was then executed.  These were hard times.

Strange train happenings.  Due to the long bank holiday weekend, National Rail decided it was a good time to do maintenance on the line—so they shut it down.  We ended up having to take a two hour bus ride (not fun) to Carlisle, a train to Preston, then back on a bus to Buckshaw Village. While on the train we were informed that a freight train ahead of us had broken down and we would have to sit until it was fixed (anywhere from 1-3 hours).  Fortunately, we were moving again in about 1/2 hour.

As I was contemplating all of this, a thought came to my mind:  “Often we find that the stones that appear to be obstacles, turn out instead to be stepping stones,”  Our trip back will probably be among our most memorable times on this trip and will probably provide the most value in our lives.

That’s it for now.  Here are a few pictures of our visit to Edinburgh.

It’s been a couple of weeks since our last post.  A week ago we drove into Liverpool for the first time.  It hadn’t dawned on us that it was the second day of the Grand National Horse Derby on the outskirts of Liverpool.  The Grand National is the English equivalent of the Kentucky Derby.  So many people dressed in very formal attire (on a cold and windy day).  I had the thought, as I observed them, how great it would be if they were all going to church.  What a force they would be.  In the evening, we were strolling through the mall at the wharf and thousands of them (still dressed in full regalia) descended on the bars and restaurants.  There were at least 6 police standing at every corner in the mall ready to keep things in check.

We visited a couple of museums (the Maritime and the Liverpool museums).  It was like seeing the other end of Ellis Island.  To ponder the millions of people going through Liverpool (including my ancestors) was sobering.  Many, if not most, with nothing but a dream in their pockets–expecting America to be their best chance at security.  Without those ambitious immigrants, I wonder what would have become of America and the Church.  The Church recently built a monument to the families who departed out of Liverpool.  It is right on the wharf.

The Maritime museum included a display describing the hundreds of thousands of children–as young as three–who were sent to Canada, America and Australia during the 20th century. These were basically orphans and unwanted children whose parents voluntarily turned them over to churches or other presumably charitable organizations who then shipped them off–often without telling the parents.  Many are now trying to retrace their steps and find their families.

Yesterday, we travelled to Yorkshire and visited the towns of Halifax and Haworth.  In Halifax, we visited Shibden Hall the home of the Lister Family (for 500 years).  The interesting thing was the number of major remodelings done by Anne Lister–who had the greatest impact on the estate.  A couple of pictures:

From Halifax, we drove to Haworth, parsonage home of the Bronte sisters.  It is really quite moving how three literary giants grew up in a fairly isolated environment and accomplished what they did by their young ages.  They died at 29, 30 and 39 years old.  In fact, all 6 children of Pastor Peter Bronte’s children died before he died at age 84.  Probably best known of their works were Wuthering Heights and Jane Erye.  Haworth is in one of the many “moors” in England.  I am still not sure I understand how the moors become such, but you definitely know it when you see it.  Found in the hilly country, it is the top of the hills–where pasture land cannot or does not find root.  It is just very barren with a tall brown grass–almost a thicket.  It is in the moors where people did, and still do, go to walk and ponder.  It is said that the moors had great influence on the Brontes’ writings.  The roads are unbelievable.  Bordered by rock walls ranging from 4 to 8 feet high on each side, the road, at times, is maybe 10-12 feet wide.  If you meet a car coming the other way, one or the other must back down to the nearest turn out which could be a mile or two.  We were lucky and able to squeeze by at about 1 mph with mirrors pulled in. Here are a few pictures of the Bronte house and around Haworth.

Last week, I submitted the conclusions of what will be legally required to open Self-Reliance Centers in 20 European countries.  It has been fascinating to see how differently each country considers the issues of education, lending money, issuing certificates, collecting personal data and tax exemptions.  Now, to the task of obtaining the licenses, permits and exemptions identified.

This week also marked another milestone.  Kathy drove to the store by herself!  After she left, I found her phone here at the house–so if she got lost, we were cooked.  But she did fine.

In the next few weeks, we will have visits from Kyle McBride (here in Chorley) and the Gaughans (in London).  We do enjoy these visits.  That’s all for now.

Last weekend, we were visited by our neighbor and friend Kyle McBride who was in London on business and escaped a few days to see us and do some family history.  On Friday, we drove up to the Lake District and, again, enjoyed some scenery unimaginable to those who have not spent some time in England’s pasture lands.  I have decided that the whole purpose of winter is to permit us to fully enjoy spring. One of the beauties of spring is the new lambs.  Picture lush green fields in every direction with rock walls and generously dotted with white lambs.  And, once they are a few weeks old, they jump around together in play groups making for some good entertainment.

On Saturday, we arranged for a church history tour by a local member who has been in the business for several years and has an excellent mix of knowledge, story telling, and timing. Kyle’s third great grandfather, Robert McBride was one of the first to be baptized when Heber C. Kimball and Orson Hyde landed in England.  On the day of the first baptisms in the River Ribble there was a foot race to see who would be first.  McBride was in the crowd of 7,000 to 9,000 people who observed the race and the baptisms.  He was baptized himself 2 days later.  We visited the sites where he had been attending church (with Rev. Fielding), where he was baptized, where he was confirmed and where the Saints met for sometime once membership started growing (a cock pit).  Once the Perpetual Immigration Fund was established, Bro. McBride took his young family and traveled to America and joined with the ill-fated Martin handcart company headed for Salt Lake.  On the day before his death, he carried many across the frozen river and, as the musical talent in the camp, sang Come, Come ye Saints.  He was found dead in the snow the next morning.  His son, Heber, at age 13, took over and later became a member of the rescue team that would be dispatched to assist pioneer parties experiencing difficulties.  What a heritage.  We spent Saturday afternoon visiting the church where Kyle’s third great grandparents were married and looking for the graves of a couple of their children.  It was gratifying to watch Kyle connect with his past and to be inspired by the faith of that entire generation.  Without the English converts, it is difficult to see how the Church could have survived.

On Sunday, we attended church in the Southport Ward about 35 minutes away–where Kyle’s ancestors’ family lived prior to immigrating.  Coincidently, when we arrived, there were about 6 couples there from our Chorley Ward who had come to support Elder and Sister Card–who had been invited to speak in sacrament meeting.  So, we try to slip away–and get busted.  Sunday night, we stayed here and listened to a conference session.  Nice ending to the day.