The “Hole in the Wall” gang — 1973
— Hole in the Wall gang — 1973
I can now record the following embarrassing but humorous experience, knowing that it will never come to the attention of my former mission president.
During the time that I served in the Mission Home in Wellington, all of us Mission Home elders loved to play “knee football”. To play, we would assemble in the devotional room of the mission home dressed in our diversion-day clothes and divide into two teams. The rules were the same as regular football with the following exceptions: 1) all players were required to be on their knees or bellies at all times 2) a player was not considered “tackled” until the opposing team had rendered him absolutely motionless 3) a player was still considered to be moving if his teammates were pushing him forward. These games were very physical, and the devotional room smelled so strongly of perspiration and body odor after each game that I still can’t believe that President and Sister Sant were unaware of our indoor gridiron games.
One evening while the Sants were away at a conference, we assembled for a championship knee football game. During one play, in an effort to keep his teammate moving forward, one of the elders put his feet against one of the walls for leverage, put his back on his teammates rear, and gave a herculean push with his legs. There was a loud crack and a pop as this elder’s feet punched through the wall’s sheet rock, leaving a gaping hole about 2 feet in diameter. We all froze in shock and horror as we viewed the damage. Visions of being sent to the most remote area of the mission on a bicycle danced through each of our minds.
We immediately began to formulate a plan for repairing the hole, knowing that President and Sister Sant were to return the next morning. We scavenged around the mission home and found some very stiff poster board, some super-adhesive glue, and a variety of paints. With the help of 2 gallons of ice cream to soothe our wounded egos and several hours of work, we were able to cover the hole and mix a paint color that was acceptably close to the surrounding wall. Then, with some creative furniture arranging, we also succeeded in obscuring our patch job from direct view.
The next morning, we all held our breath as President and Sister Sant announced that they liked the new furniture arrangement, grateful that they did not ask us why we had made the change. Our scripture study proceeded without our covert operation being detected. Much to my relief, the Sants didn’t discover our diabolical deed during the remainder of the time that I lived in the mission home.
I have often reflected on this incident and if we did the right thing by not telling the Sants. I haven’t reached a firm conclusion, but I am sure that I will not be sending a copy of this confession to President Sant anytime soon.
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