Dear Diary: Elder
This morning, as I was tootling downtown to see The Ghost Writer, I saw my first Elders. It took a bit of noticing. At first, I was aware only of a pale blond young man with very long eyelashes. He was standing right in front of me, wearing earmuffs not unlike my headset, running round the back of his head. He did not look happy, and he certainly looked out of place in New York City. But I didn’t notice that he was an Elder of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints until I noticed that the guy whom he was facing, a more substantial twentysomething leaning against the subway door, and who seemed to be talking to him now and then, was wearing a badge that announced him as an Elder. I read no further, but I noticed that the young man right in front of me was wearing an identical anorak. “Elder,” I thought. The idea of sending such young persons to the fleshpots of New York on missionary work strikes me as cruel and unusual, but that’s exactly what it’s supposed to be, I suppose. Unusual enough to make Utah look good. Or (worse!) Idaho.
I have more to say, but my brain is clogged by adoration of Olivia Williams. This isn’t to say that I’m not still in love with Emily Blunt! All I do these days, it seems, is go to the movies and tombe amoureux with actresses. Then I come home and talk for hours with my true love.