Helen Shiratori was born about 1920 at or near Rigby, Idaho, to parents who had come from Japan. She was the second oldest of their nine daughters and one son. The following 2-1/2 minute talk given by Helen in 1943 while she attended BYU tells about her childhood and her becoming a Latter-day Saint.

Why I Joined the Church

Often, I am asked, “Why did you join the Church?” When I try to analyze my feelings, it’s hard to explain just why. Perhaps it was because I found it something that gave me the answer to what I had been seeking for a long time, and the consequences that led up to it made it easier for me.

Less than three years ago, I first stepped into a Latter-day Saint meeting house, and about two years ago, I was baptized a member.

But looking back over the years, I see myself, a daughter of parents who had little knowledge of Christianity, immigrants into a strange land, which, by chance, happened to be a Latter-day Saint community.

I remember how I read in school books about Christ. I heard the story of Moses and of Joseph and his coat of many colors. “These,” the teacher would say, “are Bible stories.” But that was as much as they ever meant to me. When I was nearing the age of eight, my classmates began to talk of baptism, and the query would arise: “When are you going to be baptized? Everyone has to be, you know.” Baptism, of course, meant nothing to me, so I couldn’t understand why I should be baptized. Yet, if everyone did it, I supposed I would be, too. So I waited, but nothing happened. It was many years later before I understood why.

I knew, too, that my friends went to Sunday School, and I wondered why I couldn’t go. Mother would say, “But they are Christians, and you are not. Wait until you are older and know whether you want to be one before you go.”

Meanwhile, I had begun to think about God and of what I had heard about Him. He was someone who was always there to help you along and to smooth out your troubles. My clearest impression of this thought came when, on one occasion, the teacher made the class stay in after school for being noisy. I missed my bus and had to walk four miles to reach home. It was winter and the days were short, so it was no time before it became dark. At first I was frightened, but I remembered God and whispered a silent prayer – probably my first prayer. And somehow I knew that God was near and my fears vanished. Since that time, I used to turn to Him often for hlp and comfort, and I felt a comradeship in His presence that seemed to make everything all right.

By the time I was nearing my last years in high school, religion was something that faded into the background. About thrice a year, I used to hear the sermons of a Buddhist priest who made regular visits to our locality, but being so seldom these served as but momentary participations in religious faith. Religion appeared to be something that people believed in if they were interested in it and that it was but a mere guide to righteousness. The fact that I didn’t go to Sunday School or belong to a Church ceased to bother me any longer.

Then, about three years ago, I happened to live with an L.D.S. family. The lady there suggested that I go to Sunday School. I was uncertain about how I would be received, and realizing my shortcomings, I felt rather out of place. But I found everyone friendly, and it was not long before I began to pick up threads of the Gospel here and there. In the evenings the lady I lived with would help me out and smooth out the questions that arose, and through her patience I gained an understanding of the principles.

Life that had appeared to be but a passive existence, became a step to greater promises, and here at the University I have learned more about the Church that have strengthened my faith.

I can sincerely say that I owe much to the Church and that I am grateful for the blessings and fine opportunities that have become my way. I hope that in time an appreciation of the Gospel will reach my family and others of my people who have not yet been so blessed. I humbly express my gratitude and thanks in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Also living in Rexburg as Helen grew up was Kenji Shiozawa, a son in a Latter-day Saint family who was baptized at age 8 and was active in the Mutual program as a teenager. Both Helen and Kenji went to BYU, where Kenji majored in landscape architecture and Helen studied home economics. Helen, especially, shows up in BYU honor rolls and lists of scholarship recipients throughout her years there. Helen and Kenji were married in April 1944, and she graduated the following year with a B.S., and later earned a master’s degree at Utah State University. ((Kenji may also have been an honors student and certainly graduated, but I have not tracked him the way I’ve tracked Helen.))

After a year in California, the couple settled in Logan, where Helen taught elementary school and Kenji became associate professor of landscape architecture at the Utah State Agricultural College. After a number of years there, they moved to Ogden where Kenji was a district supervisor with the U.S. Forest Service, planning and designing recreation areas in the national forests of northern Utah. Helen continued her career as an elementary school teacher – she was named Teacher of the Year for the Weber School District in 1973, and in 1993 received a $10,000 Huntsman award for her work in the schools.

In the kaleidoscope of facts that tend to appear in hometown newspapers, I know that Helen and Kenji had children, but I don’t know how many; that she was a Brownie leader in the Girl Scouts and a den mother in the Cub Scouts; that the family was active in Sunday School and MIA, and that Helen was a member of the American Association of University Women. Kenji passed away in 1999. Helen may still be living, a centenarian; I don’t find evidence of her death in any of the usual places.

This not-quite-satisfactory photograph of Helen from the BYU yearbook is, so far, the only photo I have found of her. At least it’s contemporary to her 1943 talk.