I still have my original Latter-day Saint Missionary Handbook, the small (4.5 inches by 3.5 inches) white, plastic-covered one I carried around for two sweaty, rainy years in South America starting in 1973.
When I opened it this morning, a dried bug and tiny bits of vegetation fell out. Obviously it’s been a while. The handbook is wrinkled, tattered, and, in some places, annotated with handwritten notes best left lost to posterity.
The 40-page booklet constituted guidelines to be followed by missionaries. In some more draconian districts, several pages were required to be read aloud to the assembled district every morning before breakfast.