Oh, THAT Elder

Sometimes missionaries received certain labels. When there were two or more elders with the same last name, those elders had to be careful because a nickname was surely on the way. For example, there were four Elder Joneses in my mission: Driggs Jones (my trainer), Fat Jones, Pretty-Boy Jones, and NASCAR Jones. Other elders didn't get nicknames but were followed around by stigmas the rest of their missions. One elder would always be known as the guy who burned his apartment down. Another was renowned for his desire of missionary leadership positions. One elder would go down in mission lore as the only one in recent memory to willfully spend his entire mission as a junior companion.

What was I? I suppose I was fortunate enough to avoid any specific notoriety, but for a while I was known as the elder who got bucked off a camel. (You're going to have to wait a little longer for that story. Sorry.) I think my stutter also merited a mention whenever someone was trying to figure out who Elder Kunz was. But, oddly enough, somehow it got out that I was a rabid Star Wars fan.

I still don't know how people knew, but somehow people caught on and decided I would be the perfect recipient for the random Star Wars memorabilia they found around the apartment. Before my first two transfers were over, I had a Star Wars cereal box, a "Darth Tater" Mr. Potato Head, and an impressive assortment of Pez dispensers. (By the end of my mission, my growing Star Wars collection would include a high-end lightsaber replica and would rival my tie collection for the biggest contributor to my exceeding the airline luggage weight limit.)

Still, by the end of my mission, I was pleased when Sister Koyle told me I was known in the mission for having a great combination of work ethic and a sense of fun. I breathed a sigh of relief. I think that appellation had narrowly edged out my Star Wars collection as my lasting legacy.