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Show in my father's house/ 112 Chapter Five Members of my father's house intimately understood the connection between religious devotion and persecution, but rarely recognized a parallel connection between exile and fanaticism. My first brush with exile and its consequences, took place where my family's problems began. But let me begin on that Sunday morning in March, 1955, when we first learned we'd have to leave. Things always happened early on Sunday. The sweet pungence of my mother's apple pies baking tickled my nose awake. Then, before the sun was up, the brethren arrived for Priesthood meeting. I lay in the darkness listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing from the big radio: "All is well! All is well!" My father came out of Aunt Helga's bedroom and greeted my mother in the hallway. I heard their voices murmur and kissing sounds, then my father saying, "They're here. Will you let |