This is the continuation of a fictionalized story set during the early 1970s in my mission in France and Belgium. Though based on real places and some real situations, it is fiction and is only meant as something I would have liked to have happened.
Gary
Part V -- P Day Afternoon I
After leaving the Municipal Baths, Elder M and I dropped our gym bags back at the apartment and then went over to the local department store and picked up some supplies including soap, tooth paste and shaving cream. Elder M also needed some shoe polish and I bought some handkerchiefs to help with the black air around us all the time. After finishing our purchases, we walked to the several shops you had to hit in order to buy food. Like the French, the Belgians had yet to discover the "supermarche" where you only made one stop for your weeks groceries. We had to go to 3 different stores every day to get our food.
As it turned out, Elder M was a lot better cook than me. He could make hamburger and rice look actually tempting. And he was a whiz with pasta and beans. My other two companions could barely boil water so I did most of the cooking with my "Seventy's Bookstore Missionary Cookbook" that my girl friend bought me. It contained 17 different green jello recipes! Too bad Belgium didn't have any green jello! But with Elder M, life was good. He cooked up vegetables and deserts on our little two burner stove that would make you want seconds. He said he learned it from his father who loved to cook while his mother was a miserable failure in the kitchen.
Today we got some baguettes, ham and cheese and took them home. We made sandwiches to take with us into Liege where the entire Zone was going to meet for an activity at the new Liege Chapel. To this day, I still buy a long baguette at the store when I can find them and slap on some ham and brie cheese along with Dijon mustard and have a feast! After loading up a bag with sandwiches, M and M type candy, some apples and oranges and some dried up cookies, we took off for the bus station to catch a bus into the big city.
The Liege Zone had districts in Verviers and Seraing along with 3 in Liege. So we had 14 missionaries all together meeting at the Chapel. The Zone Leader (we called him the Zap) and his companion (the baby Zap) had a VW bus they drove around the zone in to work with us on occasion. The ZL was Elder Simpson. He was at the bus station picking us up along with his companion Elder Bertrand, a native Frenchman from Beziers in the south of France. We waited around for the Verviers elders to arrive. Verviers was a town 20 minutes east of Liege and had two elders, Sorenson and Peters, who I hadn't met yet. Elder M had been in the zone for nearly 4 months and knew everyone else. I was the newest elder and had yet to meet any of them.
"Elder Simpson and Betrand, this is my new companion, Elder Roark," Elder M said as he introduced me to the Zap and Baby Zap. Elder Bertrand understood English well enough not to need a translation. Unfortunately for the native French elders, we tended to speak English when together and they needed to adapt. We tried to be empathetic but testosterone loaded 20 somethings frequently forget that stuff. Elder Simpson was tall, about 6 foor 4, athletic with blond hair and blue eyes. He was from Logan, UT and was going home in a month. Elder Bertrand was smaller, about 5 foot 7, and had black hair and smaller features but not at all unpleasant looking. Together they formed an interesting team walking down the street or at a door.
"Welcome to Liege, Elder," the Zap said as he extended one very large hand to me. "Elder Millett speaks highly of you on the phone." I wasn't aware I had been the subject of conversation between the two.
"Enchante," said Elder Bertrand while offering his hand as well. Of course, Elder Bertrand only offered his hand and, in typical French style, didn't bother to shake my hand when I grabbed his. It was sort of like two limp wrists meeting. He didn't say anything else.
"The Verviers Elders should be here in about 5 minutes," Elder Simpson said while looking at his watch. "Elder Sorenson wanted to come earlier but I told him to come so you guys would get here at about the same time. How was the weekly shower?" Elder Simpson looked at Elder M and winked.
"It was great. Man, it feels so good to finally get clean all over," piped back Elder M. Apparently, the Seraing apartment was the only one in the Zone without a private bath.
"Ah, good, here comes the Verviers bus." Elder Simpson said while strolling over to the arrivals area.
Elders Sorenson and Peters stepped off the bus. It's never difficult to identify to American Elders among the Belgians. Elder Sorenson was taller than Simpson even and had brown hair and eyes. He was from Seattle. Elder Peters was my height, 6 foot, and had black hair and blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow - one of those beards that grows faster than you can shave it off. I was instantly attracted to him. He was from a small town in Ohio that I can't remember.
We all gathered our bags and stuffed the VW Bus with them and our bodies and took off for the Chapel which was on the south bank on a hill overlooking the city in a very chic neighborhood.
The 6 other missionaries where already there, including two sisters from one of the Liege districts. Sister Allen was from Northamton England while Sister Fuchs was from Bonn in Germany. They were nice looking sisters, not at all like the stereo type I had grown up with of old maids on missions for the lack of something to do. In fact, Sister Allen was a nurse at the time of her call and Sister Fuchs was a student. They tried to tolerate the overwhelming influx of American missionaries that filled the building. The other four elders were also from Liege. Elder Caldwell was from the LA area. Elder Anderson was from Salt Lake City. Elder LeSueuer was from Virginia. All four looked like they stepped out of a Church video showing glowing missionaries so we all would want to go on a mission.
The whole Liege Zone was now together, ready to share food and fun. These are the times that keep missionaries from going bonkers. They are times of necessary insanity. Let the games begin.