So, this email will be short and sweet. Ok, no real sweet, more of a salty, but everybody needs a little salt here and there.
Snow's come, finally. It's nice, sort of. It makes things fun. I have a good video of me rolling down a hill in the snow, you'd be so proud.
You're probably wondering why so short this week, and it's because Dena, who was scheduled for baptism today, probably won't make it today. We got a call this morning and Dena's dad is dying today. We went out and gave him a blessing and was with her for a bit before all the family came and it didn't seem like our place. I've never sat with a dying man before. Nor given one a blessing. So yeah, we just got back from that. I figure now's a good time to write my BYU stuff and forget about telling you about this week. It was all pretty much spent with Dena, helping her be prepped for today. But so much for that.
I'm being transferred. I don't know where this time. President called and informed me that I was being released as District Leader and explained that it is because the District Leader in the district where I am going has only been district leader one transfer and president wants to give him another transfer at least. But I was promised to be put back in at some point, because I did an exemplary job. Not like I care too much, position REALLY doesn't matter to me anymore after seeing the absolute worst of it. So I cheered after that phone call, but when the assistants called with my plans, I was thoroughly confused.
"Well, Elder Gates," Elder Whiting said after the obligatory greeting session one must always go through on phone calls, "On Thursday [transfer day] just leave your stuff in Hannibal and come to the transfer meeting. You're not going far enough away to need to do that."
"Wait, what?"
He then proceeded to answer my "what" as if I hadn't heard him. I had, clearly, but the "what" was more of a "What the heck are you talking about??" than a "WHAT? Sorry my hearing aid's going out."
After he was done with that pointless repetition, I asked, "Am I going to Quincy?" Quincy is the closest area, only half an hour away. Beyond that, it's over an hour to any place in one direction. He answered with some useless beat-around-the-bush, you-know-I-can't-tell-you response. "Shouldn't I at least take my stuff up to Quincy so the member taking me to my new area doesn't have to drive as far?"
Elder Whiting paused. "Is Quincy closer to Iowa City [the place where we all meet for a meeting before being shipped out to our new area by members]?" I responded in the affirmative, which caused another pause. "Um...one second." I heard him turn to the other assistant and say, "Can we just tell him where he's going?" After that I heard nothing but sounds of talking in the background. Now was the time for my "WHAT? Sorry my hearing aid's going out." style of "what," but I didn't bother. After a minute, Elder Whiting got back on and said, "Here's the new plan for you, Elder Gates," as if I had forgotten who I was. "Go up to Quincy on Thursday with your stuff, and stay there."
"Don't go up to the transfer meeting?"
"Don't go up to the transfer meeting." Repetition, again.
So I figure I'm going to Quincy. None of us have heard of being transfered inside of a district, but we guess it's possible. We'll see.
I know by now that wherever I'm going is where I need to go. With as many transfers as I've gone through, I know that. It's sad to go, but it's probably time.
Well, that's the gist of it. I should get one and write my other stuff.
--
"For business reasons I must preserve the outward signs of sanity." -Mark Twain
Love, Elder Charlie Gates
PS The Hannibal public library has these banners with different famous writers' names on them, and Shakespeare is spelled Shakspere. Baha
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