After All
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“After All,” Ensign, Mar. 1972, 80

After All

Life Among the Mormons: Talent Night

By Virginia Maughan Kammeyer

Our ward is having a talent night,

And everyone is here.

The cultural hall is packed up tight

From the front right to the rear.

Uncle John is playing a tune

On his trusty old kazoo

And Brother Smith is set to recite

“The Shooting of Dan McGrew.”

Susie is doing a hula dance,

And Tommy is playing his flute,

And the six-year-olds have a chorus line

That’s really kind of cute.

And down in front sits a solid row

Of eager fathers and mothers

Ready to clap, just a wee bit more,

For their own along with the others.

Next Month: A Peculiar People

Who?

By Nina Willis Walter

“Are there any questions?” Gabriel asked,

Eyeing the newest recruits to heaven.

“Yes,” said a rookie.

“Where are the streets of gold?

The harps?

The little wings?”

Gabriel laughed.

“Man’s tangibles,” he said,

“Have followed you

Even here.

We need no golden streets,

No harps,

No little wings.

Did you think heaven was a place for loafing?

Who do you think will carry the Word

To the myriad galaxies?”

As the woman driver made an illegal turn, a traffic officer ordered her to pull over and then gave her a ticket. Anxious to keep her husband from learning about the ticket, she entered in her checkbook: “One pullover, $25.00.”

Recently I purchased a “big nose and glasses” to get a few laughs at the Young Marrieds’ party, and I thought I would try out my costume on my children before leaving. I was conscious that my real nose is a little larger than normal, but I was crushed when my four-year-old said, “Oh, Daddy, you bought new glasses!”

Bishop Terry J. Barrett
San Diego, California

At middle age, your tripping becomes less light, more fantastic.

—Sunshine Magazine

When the printing press of some counterfeiters went haywire and turned out $18 bills, the counterfeiters took the bills into the hills, hoping to find naive people who would exchange them for good currency. At a little country store they asked a bewhiskered old gentleman if he had change for an $18 bill. The old man, without batting an eye, asked, “How do you want it—three sixes or two nines?”

My neighbor is a faddist

With a little mental quirk.

He jogs five miles with gusto,

Then drives five blocks to work.