"We seldom get into trouble when we speak softly. It is only when we raise our voices that the sparks fly and tiny molehills become great mountains of contention."
When I was a teenager, my idea of a great summer vacation was to curl up in a
chair and read books.
If somebody in the family suggested doing something, I often went along.
"Want to go bike riding?" Sure. "Want to go out in the back yard and dig
around in the dirt?" Absolutely. "Want to go pull dandelions out of the front
lawn?" Excuse me, I'm deaf. "Want to make a time-lapse movie of Matchbox
cars crashing?" Let's make them catch fire with lighter fluid!
I grew a garden one summer, and learned a whole bunch of stuff never to do
again.
By the time I was in college, my idea of summer had transformed completely. I
worked several summers as a student assistant at BYU's Theatre Workshop for
high school students, for which I wrote songs, built sets, assistant-directed,
and sat around playing guitar and pretending I was cool.
I worked the summer before my mission at Robert Redford's Sundance
Summer Theatre, where I learned that I'm not a particularly talented actor.
Now, though, I'm watching some young men I know spend their summers in
ways that make me wish I could go back and do the summers of my youth over
again.
Two summers ago, one of the most talented young man from our stake's drama
program went with his family to be in the Hill Cumorah Pageant -- only
Baydon Hilton wasn't there to act. He went early and served on the crew.
The young men of the crew put together the stages and sets, rehearse the
special effects, help set up lighting and sound equipment, work wherever
they're needed.
Through those weeks, they live by missionary rules, rising early, doing
scripture study, having firesides and testimony meetings. It was like a
rehearsal for Baydon's mission. He loved it so much that he went back the
next summer and did it again.
This year, while Baydon is on his mission, his equally talented younger brother
Jordan is taking off to do the same thing.
What I admire most is that both of these young men could have starring roles
in summer theaters almost anywhere. They're also gifted athletes, and could
have spent the summer dazzling people with their skills.
Instead, they've chosen to stay backstage and serve with the strength of their
arms, with the skill of their hands, and with the fire of their faith.
They chose to spend their summers doing something that wasn't about them.
I'm not even sure I want to be that good.
Then there's Matthew Case, who, as a priest six years ago, happened to show
up at church on the night we were holding tryouts for Bye Bye Birdie. On a
whim he tried out, and when I asked the young men to do Elvis imitations,
Matt really threw himself into it -- and got the part.
I worried that somebody who tried out as a lark might not be dependable, but
Matt was there at every rehearsal and did a great job in the performances. He's
the kind of guy who's game for any good thing -- and then follows through on
what he says he'll do.
Since then, he graduated from high school and went on a mission. Now,
during a break from college, he and a friend, Eric Brewer, decided to cross the
country on bicycles.
I've talked about doing that very thing for years -- but always in the mode of
"wouldn't it be cool." Matthew and Eric did it.
No, let me be accurate. They are doing it. They left on May 10th and hoped to
reach the Carolina coast by the 4th of July. (Now it looks as if they'll arrive
closer to July 10th.)
Starting on the Oregon coast, they have braved mountains, headwinds, and the
rigors of camping on lawns and going without showers for days on end.
They aren't on freeways. They're on what we would consider "back roads" --
what William Least Heat Moon called "blue highways" in his book of that name.
They pedal into small towns, and sometimes end up camping on the lawn at a
church, though sometimes they stay in motels and once they were given a
night, free of charge, by a family who ran a bed-and-breakfast.
In Nebraska, a local paper wrote an article about them:
http://snipurl.com/mattbike2. They're obviously having the time of their lives.
Eric's father, Scott Brewer, is posting maps that mark out their progress day by
day: http://snipurl.com/mattbike3
All these young men -- Matthew, Eric, Jordan, and Baydon -- have the
ambition and the wisdom to use some of the freedom of youth to do something.
No, let me clarify: to do something. To have the kind of experience that they'll
remember. To plunge into larger-than-life, larger-than-self adventure that
might change their lives.
There are many good things you can do with your summer vacation. I read a
lot of good books when I was young. I learned a lot about theatre. I made
some good friends. That wasn't wasted time.
I wish, though, that I'd been more like these young men -- that I'd gotten out of
the house, away from home, and done more of the things I only talked about or
dreamed about.
When adult responsibilities set in, you aren't always free to go and make a
dream come true. You have to take other people into account.
The freedom of youth is a precious gift. It's good to see it used so well.
Orson Scott Card is the author of the novels Ender's Game, Ender's
Shadow, and Speaker for the Dead, which are widely read by adults and
younger readers, and are increasingly used in schools.
Besides these and other science fiction novels, Card writes contemporary
fantasy (Magic Street,Enchantment,Lost Boys), biblical novels (Stone Tables,Rachel and Leah), the American frontier fantasy series The Tales of Alvin Maker
(beginning with Seventh Son), poetry (An Open Book), and many plays and
scripts.
Card was born in Washington and grew up in California, Arizona, and
Utah. He served a mission for the LDS Church in Brazil in the early 1970s.
Besides his writing, he teaches occasional classes and workshops and directs
plays. He also teaches writing and literature at Southern Virginia University.
Card currently lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, with his wife,
Kristine Allen Card, and their youngest child, Zina Margaret.