Ann Cannon: Reach goal, take pride, move forward

You know I just wasn't that crazy about Mormon pioneer stories when I was a kid, mostly because I couldn't relate.

      The pioneers were too noble! Too heroic! Unlike me they weren't

into whining when it came to taking REALLY long road trips from

Illinois (for example) to Utah.

     I, on the other hand, could find LOTS of things to whine about

that summer our family drove from Provo to Nauvoo — like the way my dad

wouldn't stop when I said I had to go to the bathroom. (Dads! They're

just all "but we already stopped five minutes ago.") Or the way my

brother tormented me by putting his sick, bare feet on me, while the

other brother hogged the box of Wheat Thins for himself.

      ME: Dude. Who died and made you the boss of the Wheat Thins box?

      I was too hot! I was too cold! I couldn't do my crossword puzzle

because I dropped my pencil down the seat, besides which I was too

carsick to do crossword puzzles anyway.

      I. Was. Miserable.

      At least Nauvoo itself looked striking in the moonlight when we (yes! finally!) rolled into town late one evening.

      To the west of us the Mississippi River glinted dark and silver,

while overhead the heavens split wide open with a sudden crack of

thunder and a slice of lightning. Within moments of our arrival, we

found ourselves snatched up in the teeth of a Midwestern rainstorm that

was fierce and awesome and humbling.

      Talk about drama! I'll never ever forget the way that sleepy ghost of a town looked against an illuminated midnight sky.

      On the other hand, the pioneers (those in the first company, as