In addition to covering this corner of MA, our area extends to a township in New York and a few towns in Vermont, where we went for dinner yesterday. One of these Vermont towns is Whitingham- the birthplace of Brigham Young. It was strange that in a town of (no lie) zero stop lights and (to my knowledge) zero Mormons, we saw his name on probably 10 different signs. 
Since I am a descendant of Papa Young, I found it especially interesting to see the monuments erected in his honor, the spot where his house once stood, and the school he attended. That school, by the way, is now a museum that houses many of his belongings. Unfortunately and ironically, it's only open on Sunday.
President Evans always speaks of New England as "the cradle of the Restoration of the Gospel". As I stood on the steps of a monument (not pictured here) honoring this great pioneer and man of God, those words sounded in my mind and I couldn't help but feel like I was standing on hallowed ground and that something marvelous happened here. Then I remembered: something marvelous did.
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