My Brother, John Arthur Taylor

My wonderful brother John Arthur Taylor, is a bibliophile!  As a small boy, I remember him always reading, reading, reading!  In his early life, he subscribed to Popular Mechanics.  Early on, he voraciously read science fiction.  During his young life he had some trouble with his eye-sight.  Yet, his eye weakness led to becoming his great strength. 

During other periods of his life, he turned to reading British novels, like Dickens, but particularly by the Victorian novelists Anthony Trollope and statesman, Benjamin Disraeli.  John is a devotee of Trollope and has contributed a major and substantial collection of Trollope’s prodigious number of books to the BYU Library Special Collections.  I wonder if it may be the most complete Trollope collection existent.

 John gave a most intriguing lecture on Anthony Trollope, his family and his novels at the BYU Library a few years ago.  John has gathered probably the finest collection of books and documents assembled relating to the British author, H. Rider Haggard (King Soloman’s Mines, and others).  I don’t know all of the many other projects John has done relating to the world of books.  He has an enormous and impressive personal library in his home.  

            In his younger life, when in the army and stationed in Paris, France as a cryptographer, John kept a little book in his back pocket—always ready to read, read, read.  He reads from a wide variety—books of every good genre (he avoids self-help and self-esteem books), magazines, newspapers—the scriptures.  He has read the New English Bible several times!  (I don’t think he has completely finished reading everything on the internet yet!)   Is the “book” becoming a thing of the past—or is just morphing into another medium—a Kindle or I-pad?

He has a small hard-bound pocket collection of books, one of which he takes wherever he goes.  On the dashboard of his car, is another compact or other book ready to be read during the briefest of delays in his other errands.  He now listens to many audible books.  Every spare moment is an opportunity for him to read.  John and I love old classic movie DVD’s.  But I have heard him say, “Well, I wanted to watch it, but I had a chance to read instead!” 

            As a stake president holding many evening meetings and in his busy life working long hours for the Proctor and Gamble Corporation as an executive, he would often work until late at night—but the hours between 10 or 11 pm and 1 am was sacrosanct time to climb under the covers of his bed with his little flashlight and to read his books, knowing he had to get up early for another long day.  I think in his next life, his ambition might be to not be a successful business executive but to be a bibliopole!     

            John often reads up to 100 books or more in a year.  My brother was recognized a few years ago by the Provo Library as the Library Patron of the Year.  He makes a careful notation of his reading impressions for each book in a little bibliographic journal he keeps, listing the enormous number of books he has read and reread. 

Only yesterday, I received a special envelope in the Philippines mail post-marked in Salt Lake City, December 31, 2011 addressed to me and in my brother John’s distinctive chirographic (just learned the word today!) handwriting with blue ink. It cost him 3 first-class stamps to send it. 

            I noticed it was postmarked in the Philippines on January 20^th.  A rubber stamp mark on the back of the envelope seemed to me a facsimile of John, carrying an enormous load of books out of a huge library bin, stating, “So many books; so little time.” 

Inside the envelope was a letter-note with a colored flower and oak acorn ensemble with the words, “HAPPY NEW YEAR”.

 The written salutation and message from my brother follows:

“Here is a little bookmark to start off your new year.  Learn some new words, or refresh your memory about words you haven’t used lately!  Words interpret the past, support the present, open windows on the future.” 

With love and best wishes,

John.  

It is interesting to me to realize that 26 small symbols open up such a world of truth and knowledge to each of us.  The Lord would add,

“And truth is knowledge of things as they are, and as they were, and as they are to come…And verily I say unto you, that it is my will that you should…obtain a knowledge of history, and of countries and of kingdoms, of laws of God and man, and all this for the salvation of Zion. Amen.”

 (Doctrine and Covenants 93:24, 53)

I do not know of anyone who is more knowledgeable or aware of things today and of  many things in the past, than is my brother John. 

Among his other LDS missions performed so far in his life, I think you might guess where he is loving and serving his current mission---Yep!--working as a missionary in the BYU Family History Library!  Our words, names, relationships--our knowledge becomes our salvation! 

George Terry Taylor

January 28, 2012

THE NEW YEAR

The New Year, 2012 has arrived!!  Is this the year that the world ends?

  

            We celebrated by doing our work with 71 missionaries in residence—business as usual.  But, on New Year’s Eve, we excused the missionaries from their usual planning and companion study to meet together and watch the movie—“The Other Side of Heaven!”   One missionary said, “I learned so many new principles about missionary work!”

 

            We gave an ice-cream cone to each missionary--they love ice-cream!!  We sent them all to bed before 10:00 p.m.

 

            Now, here’s the news—for several days leading up to New Year’s Eve, we noted the little firework stands set up all over the city side-walks.  Hundreds’ thousands of firework stands!  Remember the population in the Manila area approaches 21 million.   Along White Plains Avenue leading to the Temple, the Area Offices and the MTC, we note rows of these stands crowded right next to each other.  Going to Wyoming to buy cool fireworks is nothing compared to the business of buying fireworks in Manila!  You can buy anything in this world in the world of fireworks!  No laws, no restrictions, no restraints (as far as I know)!

   

            Starting at 10 or 11 on New Year’s Eve, the fire-fun begins!  At 12:00 midnight an enormous canopy of erupting light explodes all over the enormous city.  A high-decibel cadence and cacophony of deafening sound pops and bangs everywhere!  All we had to do is lay in our upper-story bed, open the window shades in our apartment and look out through our large windows to behold the light night-sky surging with continuous burgeoning fireworks--the fire-crackers, the rockets, the geysers, the screaming shooting stars, the unfolding colors one layer on top of another in a sequence of fire-bright-light!

 

These brilliant scenes along with other multitudinous inventions of fire celebration built up to a crescendo of consuming conflagration!  I was recently told that 60% of the injuries in the Philippines come from fireworks!  I hate fireworks!

            Have you been to or seen the Stadium of Fire on the 4^th of July in Provo? To Manila on New Year’s Eve, the Provo’s Stadium of Fire is like lighting a match to a candle compared to starting an enormous raging consuming forest fire.

 

Are we proud of these modern missionaries?  We went outside the next morning, Sunday morning, New Year’s Day, but we came back in.  We couldn’t breathe!   I know some of the missionaries watched them from their upper residence rooms in the new MTC buildings. I asked them if they had seen the fireworks last night.  One answered, “What fireworks?!”

Once again, we love them and we love you! 

The Taylor’s

Dad & Mom

George & Debbie

GT&DT

Basketball flop flippers

Dear Friends and Family:

            Last month, I informed you about the smooth moves of the young Pilipino missionaries on the basketball court.  I failed to tell you about their athletic footwear.  Many of them just go barefoot on the concrete parking lot gym we have provided for them.  They run, they jump and they jostle!  Most of them wear flip-flops or the thong between the toes type.  Sister Taylor supplies some of these flip-flop flappers for those who don’t bring any gym shoes.  

            Well, the interesting news—it seems that those who trip, go down with sprained ankles or other foot injuries—they are always the ones with the cool expensive gym shoes; we’ve never yet had any problem with the flop-flippers or the bare feet!   

George & Debbie

My Little Lamb

Dear Family, Friends, Neighbors and Associates:

We wish each of you great happiness and joy in this wonderful time of remembrance and celebration of our Lord and Savior’s birth and life-giving ministry.  Please read Sister Taylor’s “Little Lamb” story attached. 

All of our love,   

Dad and Mom

George and Debra

GT & DT

 

 

My Little Lamb

 

When I was a child I lived in Bethlehem five miles from Jerusalem and just a little way from “Shepherd’s Field” which was called Migdal Eder. This was the place where lambs were raised for sacrifice at the Temple.  All the firstborn lambs around my home are considered holy. My father, my grandfather, and my uncles were shepherds.  I always wanted to be a shepherd like them but I was a daughter; I was told I needed to stay at home.

My father spent many cold and lonely nights in the fields protecting the sacred sheep. He risked his life to keep the animals from going astray and falling into the steep ravines. Spring was especially difficult because it is the time of lambing and Passover.  People came from all over to purchase animals for burnt and peace offerings to atone for their sins in Jerusalem.

When the lambs reach a year old, my father separated the firstborn males, those without blemish and spot, and led them to Jerusalem. I waited on the road to see my father and the little lambs as they passed by.  On one such occasion one particular lamb with such a big tail caught my eye—he even looked at me. I ran to my father and asked if I could keep that little lamb. He told me that there were many others back on the field from which I could choose. But, I wanted the one which had caught my eye. After some pleading my father finally gave me that special lamb. I picked it up; the lamb licked my nose. I giggled and buried my face into his neck.

 I ran back home holding my little lamb and hollered to my mother with excitement as I entered the house. She sighed and asked what I would do with the lamb. I told her that the lamb would be my friend since I didn’t have anyone else to play with. 

When my father returned from Jerusalem he went back to the field to divide more of the lambs.

One dark evening as I lay in front of the small fire, I was awakened with a start as my father rushed into the house in great excitement. The door slammed against the wall causing straw to fall to the ground from the roof.  His eyes were flashing but his spirit was joyful.  He began talking so fast that my mother and I we could make out only a few of his words.  My mother asked, “What is the matter?” She told him to slow down and repeat what he had said.

“I had been tending the flocks with James and the other shepherds when an angel  appeared and said unto us, ‘Fear not for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; you shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.

 And suddenly there was with the a multitude of Heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men.’ ( Luke 2:9-17).

“I saw the babe wrapped in the same swaddling clothes in which we wrap the new-born lambs. As I came near the manger I knelt down to view this miraculous sight. I felt such indescribable joy, peace, and love as I looked upon this holy family. I couldn’t contain myself and I have shared this experience with everyone on my way home. Will you come with me and see?”

Well, we ran out of the house and shut the door leaving my little lamb behind to go and see this new-born baby. The stars were so bright, especially one brilliant star which led the way.

When we arrived at the manger there were others whispering and pressing in to see the child. My father lifted me upon his shoulders so that I could catch a glimpse of the baby. I could hardly breathe because my heart was full as I looked upon the infant child’s face.

As I gazed upon him I wondered how I could show my love.  I so wanted to give him a gift.  We walked home slowly, talking with each other with feelings we could not  describe.

In my mind, I continued to ask myself what I could give to him.

When we reached the door of our home, my little lamb was waiting eagerly but patiently for me.  As I lifted up my lamb I began to cry. Again he licked my nose but also my eyes and my mouth.

During the night, I didn’t sleep.  I felt a strong desire and a need give my new little lamb to the new boy-child babe in the manger.

Following this wonderful experience, my father returned back to the shepherd fields. I asked him if we could take my little lamb to the child when he returned home. He answered that we could indeed!  I waited and watched for a few days for his return. Finally he came back and helped take me and my lamb.  The little lamb followed me to the manger. When we arrived the child and his parents were gone. I felt so sad—disappointed that I had taken so long to return.  I wondered what sacrifice of purification the baby’s  parents offered at the temple to celebrate the birth of their first-born son.

As we were leaving the manger, my lamb seemed to linger behind sniffing the golden straw but then turned and followed me back home—how I loved my little lamb! As he grew too big to live with us in our house, I returned him back to the” Shepherds Field” with the other ewes.  But, I never forgot the love I felt for my lamb and for the child and the gift that I wanted to give. 

Debra Taylor 12/2011