One of the striking memories from my childhood is of a Mormon cricket some teacher brought to church to show us. I’m still a little disturbed by it; it was freaking huge. I don’t know if visual aids help children learn better, but some of the sure leave an impression.

Ardis, I’m glad you broke the vow.

David, some skeptics just refuse to be convinced. Ahem, thanks.

Ahem, I’m not persuaded by this.

I was introduced to the Mormon cricket during a field trip to the old museum on Temple Square in the mid-’60s. Scattered among the dusty Indian mummies and the moth-eaten stuffed seagulls in those glass display cases were handfuls of desiccated Mormon crickets. My brothers loved that awful old museum. My skin crawled, and I vowed I would never look at or think about anything old, ever again, as long as I lived. Hunh.

I remember in my home ward library in Harlingen, Texas there was a Mormon Cricket encased in some sort of clear plastic. It was labeled ‘Mormon Cricket’ and I marveled as a young primary child on its size and it gave me a vivid picture to have in mind when the story of the seagulls and the crickets was told and retold to me.