This postOkay, okay, I’ll tell the President Hinckley story. :)
So, last summer (June 25th, to be precise — journals can come in handy at times :)) I was working on a set of icons for our software. I hadn’t planned on coming in on that Saturday, but we needed to finish them, so I went up to the lab.
Two hours later, at around 4:30, I was sitting there drawing away in Illustrator. Now, there are two parts to our lab: the main area (which is where the front door is), where the TAs teach the lessons and where students can come in to do family history, and the IAP area, which is where I work. There’s a wall that partly separates the two halves of the room, and it happens to be between my computer and the front door. The light was off in the main half of the room, but was on in my half of the room. I also had some classical music playing. The stage is now set.
The familiar “beep-beep-beep-beep-beep” came from the front door, and I heard it swing open. Voices. It was pretty clear that they were doing a tour of some sort, and I figured it was probably the dean of the college of Family, Home, and Social Science. (The building was still quite new at that point and it hadn’t even been dedicated yet.) Now, when they do tours, they usually walk all the way through, so I stayed where I was, figuring they’d pass by and I’d wave and say hi and answer any questions they had.
But they didn’t come over. I didn’t think much of it, focusing back on my work.
Two minutes later, however, I was jolted out of my reverie by a very familiar voice. “No,” I thought to myself, “it can’t be. It seriously can’t be him.” He continued to talk (and I can’t really remember what he said, because the shock rather clouded my head :)). Yes, it was indeed President Hinckley.
At that point I was faced with a dilemma. I wanted to actually see him, to shake his hand, but it had been two solid minutes already, so popping out from behind the wall would be slightly awkward. Nor did I want to give President Hinckley a heart attack or get jumped by security guards. I also realized that I hadn’t seen a single soul in the building all afternoon, making me wonder if it was actually off limits that day and I’d somehow slipped through without realizing I wasn’t supposed to be there. That would not be my ideal introduction to the prophet — I imagined the dean staring at me in consternation, “What on earth are you doing here?!?” Slightly embarrassing. Luckily that didn’t happen.
In fact, nothing happened. ~sigh~ Before I could figure out what I should do, they all left. As soon as the door shut, I tiptoed out from behind the wall and slipped over to the glass window next to the door. I could see (and hear) that they were all in the elevator, the doors of which were starting to close, but there was a huge pillar in the way and it blocked my view of everyone except for some guy at the edge.
Yes, I know, I should have been more proactive, I should have said something, yadda yadda. For the whole next week I dreamed about it, reliving it over and over. (Heck, two nights ago I dreamt that I shook President Kimball’s hand on his way out the chapel, and then suddenly I found myself sitting next to President Hinckley on the stand, chatting about books and how long he was going to live.)
But it’s solidly in the past, unalterable. Maybe someday I’ll write a short story in which I do get to meet him. (I’ve still never met him in person. The only apostles I’ve met are David B. Haight, whose hand I shook at the Mt. Timpanogos Temple groundbreaking, and Henry B. Eyring, at a Hinckley scholar thing my freshman year.)
One last thought. In the MTC, we had a few apostles come speak to us, and every time they came (if I recall correctly), my district got put in one of the satellite rooms, not the actual place where the apostle was speaking. As we were sitting there watching Elder Ballard give the talk that started the whole Raising the Bar movement, I thought to myself, “It would’ve been nice to get to meet him in person. ~sigh~ Wait a sec. His boss, so to speak, is Jesus, and his is the Father, and someday I’m going to meet them — and they even know who I am! I guess it’s not so important if I ever do meet the prophet or the apostles, since in the end, I’ll get to meet them all. Moses, Nephi, Peter, Joseph — they’ll all be up there.” And while I still have a hankering to meet General Authorities (I can’t tell if it’s for the same reasons that people want to meet rock stars, or if it’s rather because I know they’re close to the Lord and I’m drawn to people like that — hopefully the latter :)), I’ll be okay if I never do get to talk to any of them. :)
