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.
Local Color
More on the Hi Ute
As a follow-up to yesterday’s entry on the Hi Ute Ranch, I’ve been Googling around for some photographs or an official Web site or something. I had no luck on the Web site, but I did find a couple of pictures. For those who want to know what the heck I was talking about yesterday or those who want to relive some happy memories, I present the following:
- This site features one of those groovy interactive photos that enable you to move around inside them using your mouse. It’s the next best thing to standing in the middle of the actual barnyard.
- This site, on the other hand, features an ordinary static shot of the ranch plus a brief remembrance in verse by the site’s owner, who lived on the ranch as a boy and isn’t too happy about the development that now surrounds it. I wonder how he feels about the conservation easement, whether he thinks it’s a good thing or too little, too late.
Oh, for those who don’t know and may be wondering as you read the poem on the second Web site, a kildere (or, more properly, a killdeer) is a native Utah bird that nests on the ground in open fields. It has a distinctive call that consists of one high-noted whistle followed by a lower note. This call is what gives the bird its name, although it’s always sounded to me like the bird is saying “hee-haw,” not “kill-deer.” It sounds, actually, like a more benign version of Nelson from The Simpsons. I love the sound of kilderes, especially now when you don’t encounter it much. For the last couple of summers, I’ve been fortunate enough to have a killdeer living in a small pasture behind my parents’ barn, so I hear the call fairly often…
Score One for Preservation
When I was a kid in the 1970s and early ’80s, much of the landscape I called “home” was rural. Open space was always nearby, even if you lived in downtown Salt Lake City, and out on the edges of the valley where my family was located, there were far more hay fields than housing developments. It was a comfortable, worn-in landscape that soothed the eye and fit the body like a really old pair of jeans.
Everything started to change in the mid ’80s, when a few subdivisions sprang up in the pastures of retiring farmers whose children didn’t want to continue working the land. These were followed by a shopping center or two, and then a couple of new stop lights to handle the increased car traffic. No big deal, it seemed… there were still plenty of fields, and the sweet smell of alfalfa in the air, and the same old dirt roads and open irrigation ditches and sluggish canals there had always been. But change was coming. These small building projects were, in fact, the beginning of a massive and uncontrollable chain reaction, like the first couple of flying neutrons that lead to a full-scale nuclear blast.
Trolley Corners closes
I’m still working on a couple of additional entries about CONduit, but I wanted to note that the last of the Salt Lake movie theaters I remember attending as a kid, Trolley Corners, quietly closed its doors on Thursday after 27 years of business.
Weekend Museum Tour
Yesterday Anne and I wanted to break our usual weekend routine so we took a field trip to the Springville Museum of Art. It’s a place we’ve known about for some time and have often threatened to check out, but we never managed to make it down there until yesterday. If you live in the Salt Lake or Provo area and are interested in visual arts, I highly recommend this little-known treasure.