Monthly Archives: July 2004

Know What You’re Getting Into

This irritates me something fierce. Four years ago, a theater student at the University of Utah, Christina Axson-Flynn, raised a stink because she thought it was unreasonable for her professors to expect her to swear when the script she was performing from required it. When Axson-Flynn (who is Mormon) couldn’t convince her professors to see her point-of-view, she did what every American is apparently required to do at least once in their lives and filed a lawsuit, alleging that the U. is biased against Mormons.

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Wherein I Fail the “Teachout Cultural Concurrence Index”

There’s another one of those big personality surveys making the rounds on the ‘net this morning, 100 questions about your cultural preferences called the “Teachout Cultural Concurrence Index.” This survey originated on a blog belonging to a Manhattan music and drama critic named Terry Teachout. Given TeachoutÂ’s credentials, it’s not too surprising that some of the items on this survey are a bit, well, hoity-toity, and not really the sort of thing that would appeal to a non-New York intellectual. (That’s a roundabout way of saying that I, like fellow blogger Kevin Drum, didn’t know enough about many of the choices to have any preference. I hang my head in shame at my apparent Philistinism.) However, Teachout does state that his blog is about “all the arts, high, medium, and low,” and, true to that declaration, his survey has plenty of the lower-brow stuff that I can relate to. Besides, I like taking these things. And therefore I offer the following window into my tastes, or lack thereof:

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Randomness

This is one of those days when I have a lot of things I’d like to blog about and little time to do any of them justice, so I apologize in advance for throwing out a bunch of unconnected (and unedited) nuggets:

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Big Announcement: Warbirds Over Utah!

As I mentioned a while back, I’ve got a passion for World War II bomber planes. I think they’re beautiful in the same way that antique cars, boats, and trains are beautiful. They were designed according to the aesthetic and engineering standards of another era and, for whatever reason, I admire those standards. In many cases, I admire them more than current standards. Machines from the mid-20th Century are not primitive so much as simple, and they are authentic and unique in a way that most modern machinery is not. (Can you tell the difference between the vast majority of modern cars unless you’re close enough to read the markings? I know I can’t, aside from a handful of exceptions.)

Even though the vast majority of warbirds were broken up for scrap or otherwise removed from the earth a long time ago, it is still possible to see one outside of a picture book. There are airplane museums all over the United States that have at least one or two of these craft in their collections. Here in Utah, for example, the museum at Hill Force Base in Ogden contains a number of large warbirds, including a B-17 Flying Fortress (like the Memphis Belle), a B-25 Mitchell, and a B-24 Liberator. However, seeing airplanes in a museum is something like viewing a stuffed bear. You can study the size and shape of the animal, but you won’t see it move. You won’t understand its essence. Museum planes are dead things, mounted and displayed behind velvet ropes, dusted by attendants, lovingly preserved for the ages… but they’re cold and emptied of their spirit.

A far better option is to try and see one of the handful of warbirds that is still flying. When you see a “living” warbird “in the wild” you can hear the roar of piston engines that don’t sound like any engine made today. You can see the sun glinting off wings and plexiglass nose bubbles. You can feel the wind of the plane’s passage and smell the exhaust. Watching a warbird pass overhead, it is possible for one brief moment to imagine what it must have been like on a sunny English morning in 1943, when the skies were filled with machines and the combined sound of their engines made the ground hum beneath a man’s feet.

If you live in the Salt Lake-Provo area, you’re about to have the chance to see not just one but two “living” warbirds. The Collings Foundation “Wings of Freedom” tour, which consists of a B-17 called the Nine O’ Nine and a colorful B-24 known as The Dragon and His Tail, is coming to our area. The planes will be in Heber City on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, then they will fly down from the mountains into Provo on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. At each stop, walkthrough tours will be available (a very reasonable $8 gets you into both planes) as well as flight opportunities.

That’s right, you will have a chance to go for a ride on an authentic warbird. The price for a ride seems pretty steep at first glance — $400 for approximately twenty minutes in the air — but I can tell you from experience that it’s worth every penny. My father and I rode on The Dragon during last year’s Wings of Freedom stop in Heber, and I can honestly say it was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. The cost is tax deductible, the money goes toward keeping the planes flying, and you will be able to tell your friends that you’ve done something few other living people have.

Even if you don’t have the scratch to go for a ride, I urge anyone who is remotely interested in seeing authentic living history to try and get out to one of these two tour stops. The Foundation’s mission is to keep these machines in the air where they belong, and they need your help to do it. And for you, this really is a rare opportunity — there are a mere fourteen B-17s still flying in the United States, and only one single B-24, The Dragon and His Tail. How often do you get to see a one-of-a-kind anything these days? Go on, see a piece of history, and know that your support will ensure that others will be able to do the same, hopefully for years to come…

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Holiday Time-wasters

I’ve been thinking that it’s kind of a bummer to begin the holiday weekend with an obituary, so I thought I’d put up something a bit more entertaining. Of course, the odds are against anyone actually reading any of this before Tuesday morning, and if you are reading this over the weekend, I recommend that you immediately shut down your computer and get yourself outside. Follow the smell of charred beef and cordite until you find some Fourth of July festivities, then plant your butt in a lawn chair and enjoy the things that make this country great: artery-clogging meat products, microbrewed beer, and entertaining pyrotechnic devices. Or, as Apu once said, “Celebrate the independence of your country by blowing up a small piece of it.”

If, however, you are one of those unfortunate drones who is chained to the computer during this time of revelry, listening to the slow methodical drumbeat of that fat guy who lets you know when to swing the oar, allow me to provide you with some diversions:

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Brando

I was planning to write this morning about one of the more eccentric aspects of living in Utah, namely the way Utahns celebrate Independence Day on July 3rd if the 4th falls on a Sunday (except, of course, for the rebellious “in-Utah-but-not-of-Utah” towns of Park City and Moab, which stubbornly insist on holding their festivities on the actual declared holiday). However, I’ve just read something on the ‘net that is far more important to me personally than all that theologically-inspired scheduling nonsense: the great Marlon Brando has died.

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