The Book of Mormon Girl Read Online Free Page A

felt like a million miles, and I wanted to be sitting at her kitchen table. I wanted her to slice me a dish of peaches. I wanted to feel the soft worn pads of her thumbs in my hands. I wanted to sit on the back porch wrapped in an afghan on my grandfather’s lap watching the planes line up in the night sky to land at Los Angeles International Airport, coming home.
    “This is the way to peace, happiness, and eternal life,” the voice concluded, as the scene changed from heaven to a concourse of living mortals, pressing forward, some in the traditional costumes of their native countries, Swiss, Samoan, American Indian, babies in their arms.
    “Hold fast to that which is good. Only if you are unafraid of truth will you find it. It leads to limitless opportunities, with your loved ones with you, always and forever. Therein lies your happiness. A happiness deeper than passing pleasures. A happiness not of the moment, but of eternity.”
    I felt the voices of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir surging all around me, and I thought of the broken china doll on the ground, and the sour look on the face of the vain and disappointed woman. Every time I saw Man’s Search for Happiness I promised myself: I would be different. For what were they to me, the passing pleasures of this life—profanity, face cards, and Coca-Cola, even my favorite birthday zip-up vinyl boots—the hollow pleasures of the spooky carnival ofearthlife? What were any of these next to the knowledge of who I was, where I came from, and where I was going? In the cool safety of the darkened Sunday School room, I hugged my knees and felt the pull of a great, deep longing through the center of my chest. Where else would I rather be than in the embrace of my ancestors on the other side of the veil?
    •   •   •
    On Friday nights, after my mother had put my younger sisters and brother to sleep, I was allowed to stay up and watch the Donny and Marie Osmond show on the ABC television network on the little television in my parents’ upstairs bedroom.
    How proud I felt of them, the world’s most famous Mormons, their noncaffeinated smiles sparkling out on invisible television rays from Osmond Studios in Orem, Utah, radiating across the globe, causing untold throngs of unsuspecting television viewers across the globe to rub their eyes in wonder and ask themselves, “What is it that makes them different?” and maybe even “Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going?” Even better was knowing that I was part of a special audience of other Mormons around the globe who all tuned in these Friday nights to watch with special intention the opening ice-skating number with glamorous skaters in spandex and sequins, the “I’m a Little Bit Country, I’m a Little Bit Rock and Roll” duets, the wholesome comedy skits, the outrageous costume changes, delicious downto the closing song, the deeply true brown eyes of Donny and Marie connecting directly with ours:
    May tomorrow be a perfect day,
May you find love and laughter along the way.
May God keep you in His tender care,
Till He brings us together again.
Good night everybody!
    Sitting on the avocado-green shag carpet in front of the television screen, I felt a deep connection to the thousands of other Osmond-watching Mormons: all of us knew who we were, where we came from, and where we were going! And we also knew that, unbeknownst to millions of unsuspecting non-Mormon viewers worldwide, the “God” Donny and Marie were thinking about when they sang their farewell song was our God, the same God who appeared to Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove, the God for whom our ancestors crossed the plains, the God who commanded us to keep our bodies clean by abstaining from Coca-Cola. On Friday nights I knew that even though I did not live in Utah, I was not alone. There was Marie, and across the country, there were other girls like me watching her, she being the best possible version of our homely Mormon selves. We Mormons: