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Show t Page The Daily Utah Chronicle. Thursday. December 7. Twenty-eigh- t 1978 gode davis Loneliness, peace fill yuletide He came roaring into Utah by way of four Firestone radials. While his greenish-blu- orbs breathed fiery e cynicism, his silk brown hair flowed abundantly. Somehow the man had a look of strangeness about him. Perhaps only his Mom wouldn't have known who he was. Young, but nearing 23, he wore a dark ancient cordoroy jacket that looked like it might have been retrieved from some Salvation Army rubbish sale circa 1955. That jacket accompanied him the thing was all that everywhere; shielded his sickly frame from winter's bone-chi- ll bite, alas. (Maybe because he was too cheap to purchase another!) Oh yes. Almost forgot. It was 1976, Thanksgiving was over, the turkeys had already eaten, or been eaten, case whatever, and Christmas was beginning to hover in the air like a starved seagull. The guy took it all in. Everything was a rush; a treat for the senses. The newness was alive and well; Salt Lake City's psychic welcome mat could only-etice this eastern stranger. He discovered that touring could be fun. Bits of history clung gum-lik- e to his soles whenever he visited those fine traditional places, even more so in times of holiday festive. For instance. Temple Square, all lit up by oodles of human-cause- d brightness, was so brilliant it made his contact lenses perspire. That was definitely a novel experience. But whether meandering downtown amongst the hordes of shoppers, or perched road vulturously atop a canyon-lippe- d it didn't from the above, city observing matter. He was affected. Visions of nauseatingly sweet sugarplums danced crudely in his head, and jingle bells made a racket as they climbed merrily within his mind. Sentimental nostalgia, and the trappings of Christmas, are of course inescapable. appearances, indeed But despite something was amiss. Eventually, the stranger figured out his problem. Oh, he was a clever lad, that boy! It stemmed fiom loneliness. Loreliness is an odd bogeyman. Much of the year, this gentle monster is patient, content to savor that fickle minority prone to the blues. He bides his time, like the dentist awaits his child prey in the days following Halloween. Oooooh! But dare leave a body too long solitary during Christmas season, and you just see what happens. Ever watch milk curdle? Thus our hero, aforementioned, was a sad example. He was alone, 2,500 miles distant from home, as Christmas luiked just around that proverbial corner. The grew worse, as he'd been spoiled, unfortunately, by the ghosts of many jolly Christmases past making him aware of what he was missing. Thus, he began to pursue whatever it was he craved. First off, he pulled out his little black book. Ooops. Strike one. It was horribly blank. He'd forgotten already that no folks that he knew had stayed to spend their cheer in Salt Lake. ghastly-depressio- They'd made other plans. What to do? Our man was persistent, not unlike a bulldog. He'd have to begin somewhere, for sure. Then, an idea clicked. As this fantastic process transpired, he began a walking campaign to wherever people were. Putting on his Sunday smile, he paused at the gathering places, one by one around town. Trolley Square netted about seven return smiles; the take was slim. The other malls weren't, by golly, much better. It seemed most folk were pretty damn preoccupied, what with shopping to do and children to shoe, so much so they chose to simply ignore this grinning fool dressed in a cordoroy rag, and calmly went about business as usual each and all. In the several days following, the stranger pursued his quest with what some might term as fanatical zeal. Inexplicably, something crazy no zany began to occur. Trying to make others feel bood inside was beoming less of a chore and more of a joy. Whenever he smiled now, his heart would grown more bouyant. Oddly, those smiles grew more frequent. returning but less another Sometimes, rarely, human being would choose to open up a conversation, and the stranger would respond from his heart. That missing chunk, that mysterious something amiss from Christmas, was no longer missing at all! Pep. 5,ooo wmf ..: J ill -- rs3 D3 fl "IT STUDENTS . . . CLIP AND SAVE! And see every basketball game! D D D 0 CAME DATE Denver Dec. Dec. Dec. Dec. Dec. Weber State Classicist Slickrock 0 Edward Abbey and Philip Hyde D 9 11 Thursday Friday Wednesday Wednesday BYU Jan. 6 Jan. 8 Jan. 11 Jan. 13 Jan. 20 San Diego State Colorado State Wyoming Feb. 2 Feb. 22 Feb. 24 Wednesday Tuesday Wednesday Cal State-Fullerto- Nevada-La- n Vegas s U.S.International New Mexico UTEP D Thursday Thursday Thursday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday 45 So. State 7200 So. 900 E. 1 1) Dec. Dec. Dec. Dec. 7 D 8 13 14 D Doc. 21 Jan. 3 Jan. 4 Jan. 9 Jan. 10 Jan. 18 Jan. 31 Feb. 20 Feb. 21 328-881- 1 566-243- 4 Mr 9 . . . 8 about the beautiful Canyon Utah of Southeast Country conveys the importance of keeping this area a natural wilderness like "Slickrock." Authors Edward Abbey and Phillip Hyde combine their moving appeal against development with color photography that is beyond description. The serenity and majestic glory of Slickrock country is captured here in page after page of pictorial detail and text. "Oh my desert, yours is the only death I cannot bear." Find out for yourself why these men make such statements and read "Slickrock." No photographic essay "SLICKROCK," REGULARLY PRICED AT $27.50, IS AVAILABLE NOW AT THE COSMIC AEROPLANE BOOKSTORE FOR ONLY $18.00. UD 90 minute TTT7" 6 COSMIC AEROPLANE BQOjgTDRE zBRSTSOUTH OPEN io-- q, SUN 2.- -7 D DAY TICKETS DISTRIBUTED 15 16 23 Classic Finals D List $6.95 45 So. State 7200 So. 900 E. 1 0 D D |