In the tiny town of Fish Haven, Idaho, overlooking the sapphire waters of Bear Lake, a cobblestone wall fronts a cobblestone house. Zinnias, delphinium, snapdragons, hollyhocks brighten the front yard. Vegetables flourish in the side yards and back.
Every summer evening in front of that cobblestone wall, a miracle happens. Dozens of evening primrose plants grow chest-high. When the sun is down and the evening breeze whispers from the nearby mountains, the primroses bloom.They bloom by the dozens, the hundreds, sometimes the thousands. While you watch, the calyx splits and bursts, the yellow petals unful, and the blossom opens in all its beauty. Each little miricle takes only a few seconds; in the few minutes you stand there, you see it repeated a hundred times or more.
For years, the spry little man who built that cobblestone house tended the primroses and invited passing motorists to watch the spectacle. Each day, he would pick off and count last night's faded blossoms and write the total on a blackboard - 1,115; 1,635; 1,768; one, a record 2,137.
Jesse L. Cottle, then in his 90s, died four years ago. His primroses don't bloom as abundantly as whenhe tended them so lovingly. But his memory still lives.
Especially the memory of one evening when he took a 14-year-old girl by the hand, "Here, let me show you soething."
With buds unfolding into blossoms all around him, he chose a more slender one. "This one isn't due until tomorrow night, but let's see if we can't hurry it along."
Peeling back the calyx, he unfolded the petals. They hung limp.
"You see," he said, "There's a time for a bud to blossom. When it waits for the right, it opens in beauty. Its fragrance attracts the bees, and it fulfills its purpose in life.
"But when you open it too soon . . ." He looked into her eyes to see if she had understood the message. She had, and he said no more.
We thought of Cottle the other day when two Utah professors released the findings of a five-year federally funded study designed to reduce unwanted teenage pregnancy. Terrance D. olson, professor of amily sciences at BYU, and Brent C. Miller of utah State University have been researching the mroal practices of 2,200 teenagers in New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Claifornia.
The lesson in their findings is unmistakable. Of girls who began dating at age 12, 91 percent had sexual relations before graduating from high school. Of girls who dated at 13, 56% had, 53% of those dateg at 14, 40% of those dating at 15, 20% of those starting to date at 16.
"There's a maturity factor there," Olson said. "The older ones undersand the longterm meaning of what they do." Teaching youngsters to look at the future impact of their actions is one of the most important ways parents can combat the tragedy of teen pregnancy.
Other ways, the study showed, include healthy, open communication betweenparents and children, and reasonable rules about dating.
Teenagers who saw their parents as permissive and those who saw them a "very strict" were more likely to have early problems than those who saw their parents as moderately strict. Rebellion is obviously a factor.
For many years, the Church has tried diligently to dscourage early dating. Sixteen is the age Church leaders and wise parents have tried to set as a standard. Scientific research clearly shows the wisdom of that policy - as do evening primroses along a cobble stone wall.