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Title Volume 08, Number 3, 4, Autumn-Winter 1973
Subject Periodicals; Mormons; Religious thought; Philosophy and religion
Description Independent national quarterly established to express Mormon culture and examine the relevance of religion to secular life. It is edited by Mormons who wish to bring their faith into dialogue with human experience as a whole and to foster artistic and scholarly achievement based on their cultural heritage. The journal encourages a variety of viewpoints; although every effort is made to insure accurate scholarship and responsible judgment, the views expressed are those of the individual authors and are not necessarily those of the Mormon Church or of the editors.
Publisher Dialogue Foundation, 900 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, California 90024
Scanning Vendor Backstage Library Works - 1180 S. 800 E. Orem, UT 84097
Contributors Rees, Robert A.
Date 1973
Type Text
Digitization Specifications Pages scanned at 400ppi on Fujitsu fi-5650C sheetfed scanner as 8-bit grayscale or 24-bit RGB uncompressed TIFF images. Images resized to 950 pixels wide, 150 dpi, and saved as JPEG (level 8) in PhotoShop CS with Unsharp Mask of 100/.3.
Language eng
Rights Management Digital image, copyright 2004, Dialogue Foundation. All rights reserved.
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Title Page 156
Identifier V08N0304-1786_Page 156.jpg
Source Dialogue: Vol 8 No 3, 4
Description 156 I Dialogue "You didn't fight." "No, I operated. We worked in teams; we operated ten and twelve hours straight when the fighting was heavy. After a week or two of that, you've cut off and cut out everything a man can lose and still live." "It isn't the same." "No, it isn't entirely the same I guess. You lost a former missionary companion in Vietnam didn't you? Your mother did tell me that one day when she was in." "I didn't tell her." "She saw his obituary in one of the Salt Lake papers. She didn't want to tell you if you didn't know." "They cut off his head." "That's bad." "We did things like that to them." "I suppose you did." Dr. Jensen paused. "One winter back in the 1850s my grandfather was one of the Provo settlers who chased about twenty-five Ute Indians out on the Utah Lake ice and killed them in a running fight. A doctor took a sled out, cut all of their heads off, treated them, and then sent them East for a medical museum skull collection." "Is that supposed to help me?" "You need to know that that kind of thing happens fairly often." "Does it?" "You had a missionary companion wounded, too, didn't you?" "He wasn't my companion. We labored in the same district." "What happened to him?" "He stepped on a mine and it blew off both his legs." "How did he take it?" "He tried to commit suicide in the hospital in Japan." Steve rubbed the side of his neck. "You should try not to do that, Steve." Dr. Jensen laid both of his hands, palms-up, on the glass-topped desk. Heavy shadows showed through the yellowish opaque windows. When Elder Decker was made zone leader, transferred, they tried just to shake hands, but it wasn't enough, and they hugged each other. Steve had to keep fighting the image of the headless body in the sealed casket going back to Logan* Elder Decker had lettered in basketball and been a National Merit finalist. Steve couldn't let the casket get too big. A body could explode, the flesh and bones marring the trees, brush and earth. "I can name you men in Provo who saw and did worse things in the last war and in Korea, but they came home, got married, raised families, stayed active in the Church, honored their priesthood. Some of them even went on missions after they got back." "They fought in a better war than I did." "They killed other men, Steve. Do you plan to end up in a V. A. psycho ward?" The glass-topped desk mirrored the backs of Dr. Jensen's hands. His gold wedding band glinted. "You should come out to the Utah Valley Hospital with me this afternoon, Steve." "Why?" "I've got a little four-year-old boy in the hospital with third-degree burns all over his head, face and shoulders. His mother knocked a pan of boiling water
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