This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2008, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

One afternoon in 1970, I came home and found my mother crying. I was relieved to learn that it was only because LDS President David O. McKay had died. For once it wasn't something I had done.

Selfish, I know. But I was in bigger trouble alive than President McKay could possibly be in dead, so I figured it was fair. He was going straight to heaven. I couldn't even stay out of detention.

Later, when I had a chance to think about it, I was shocked. President McKay was the only LDS president I had ever known in my short but disturbed life.

President McKay seemed like part of the family. We had a picture of him on the wall. We listened to him on the radio during General Conference. I heard about him in Family Home Evening. I got reminded of him whenever I did something he wouldn't have liked, which was a lot.

The same feeling went through me last night when I heard that President Hinckley had died. He's the only LDS president I've really known since becoming a writer.

President Hinckley was ordained as church president in 1995, the same year Pat Bagley and I published an idiotic manifesto titled Sunday of the Living Dead.

A compilation of my irreverent columns and Pat's far more evil illustrations, the book was the first in what would become our Triple Combination of Mormon humor, followed by Wake Me For the Resurrection and Pat & Kirby Go to Hell.

At the time, it was widely believed that LDS leaders were devoid of humor. Repeated inquiries were made regarding what I planned to do once they kicked me out of the church for such heretical musings.

Truthfully, I hadn't really given it much thought. I was accustomed to being a disappointment to those in charge of my spirituality, and believed that any trouble would result in the usual verbal reprimand.

When people wouldn't stop asking if I was afraid of what church leaders would do to me, I wrote a column about why I wasn't. I said it was because they were old.

All things being equal, I wrote, I was pretty sure I could beat President Hinckley up. I was fair. I also said that I could beat up the pope, that Mother Teresa could take a punch, and that Billy Graham was sick. So, really, why would anyone be afraid of church leaders?

Several months later, after being chastened by a local leader for making such a rude observation, I wrote President Hinckley a letter of apology. I said that I would try to do a little better in the future, but that I could still beat up the pope if it came to that.

Two weeks later, I received a letter informing me that President Hinckley wasn't offended, telling me to have fun and good luck.

There aren't enough church leaders (of any kind) in this world with a ripping good sense of humor about themselves. When one dies, we all lose something.

rkirby@ sltrib.com