Mormons Are Forgiving People (I Hope)

May 5, 2015

Nauvoo State Park, Illinois

The scenery on State Highway 96 between Quincy and Hamilton was a lot like the lifeless Mississippi Delta region, except cornfields had replaced cotton fields.

To counteract the boredom I frequently had conversations with myself and I also came up with a little word game. You might be aware that the subtitle of this Journal-Picayune is "A Quest for Fun . . ." So I tried to think of as many words as I could that contain the word "FUN" in them. I came up with Fund, Fundamental, Funk, Function, Refund, Funeral, Fundamentalism, Defunct, Perfunctory, Fungus, Funnies.

Further on up the road I thought of another one--Funicular. And I started singing the bizarre Italian song "Funiculi Funicula, Funiculi Funiculaaaaaaaaaa . . .." I was singing it in operatic style without shame because Highway 96 was pretty desolate on this Tuesday morning. To my ear, I sounded just as good as Pavarotti. While in concert mode, I followed up the Funicular song with a performance of The Clash song "Guns of Brixton." "When they kick out your front door, how're ya gonna come / with your hands on your head, or on the trigger of your gun?" The two songs couldn't be much different from each other, yet I nailed them both.

On the other side of Hamilton, Highway 96 became something altogether different. It was transformed into a scenic road that hugged the east side of the Mississippi. It curved, it rose and fell, it had scenic turnouts with inviting picnic areas, and it showcased several impressive homes.

I can't help but think that if I had enough money to build a house like this, I would probably try to find a more exciting location than Hamilton, IL.

I like riding in a danger zone no matter how remote the chances are of actually experiencing the danger.

When brown river water cascades it becomes white--just like blue river water.

Did you know that I invented my own religion a couple of years ago? It's true. I called it the "Church of the Great Outdoors." So far I am still its only official member. The Prophet Joseph Smith invented his own religion too, though his Mormon (Latter Day Saints) Church, with its worldwide membership of many millions, has thrived much better than mine.

After creating his new religion, he brought his followers to this location on the Mississippi River and created the town of Nauvoo. (Wow! A religion AND a town! Impressive! It's no wonder he became Nauvoo's first mayor.) The town only has about 1,100 people, but it has a very well preserved historic district. As I wandered around old Nauvoo I got the sense that those 1840's brick and clapboard buildings were not a restoration project, but were constantly maintained. I would expect nothing less from the fastidious Mormons.

Joseph Smith owned this Red Brick Store. For a 160-year old structure, it's in perfect condition.

There is nothing that fascinates me more about the Mormon religion than its history of POLYGAMY. Polygamy ran rampant in 1840's Nauvoo and the Prophet Joseph Smith was its main proponent. Yet, nowhere did I see a single reference to the practice in all of Nauvoo. Not in the historic village. Not at the Mormon Visitor Center. Not on the grounds of the beautiful Mormon Temple. Only Joseph's first wife, Emma, is mentioned anywhere. I do realize that the church has renounced polygamy since that time, but I didn't expect such a whitewash of history.

It was time for me to ride up to the architectural highlight of Nauvoo--the stately Mormon Temple. There it was at the highest point in the city. It was incredible, really. It exceeded all of my expectations. Herman Melville used thousands of words to describe the whiteness of the great whale "Moby Dick," but no number of words could describe the whiteness of this temple.

There it was, the embodiment of the snow-white purity of the Church of the Latter Day Saints--a white so white that it made me feel like I should take two or three showers to cleanse myself enough to stand in its presence.

I had heard that nobody outside of the church is allowed into the temple. I accept that policy but, still, I held onto the idea that it might have been cool to be the first non-Mormon ever admitted. I abandoned that idea when I saw the people going in and out. All of the men were wearing suits, or at least a white shirt and tie. All of the women wore long dresses. I wondered if there was any possibility that the church would grant an exception to a sweaty bike rider with a bright green shirt, unwashed shorts, and a hint of cynicism in his eyes.

My bike, =, poses behind the rear ends of Joseph and Hiram Smith's horses.

The only thing whiter than the virtuous temple were the shirts of the Mormon men.

I cannot possibly explain the symbolism of that group of vultures circling the top of the temple.

I think it is better for a restaurant to be famous for its good food than to be famous for its rats or cockroaches.

Today's ride: 47 miles (76 km)
Total: 1,137 miles (1,830 km)

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