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Show A-14 Meetings and agendas SUMMIT COUNTY COUNCIL Wednesday, August 15, 2012 NOTICE is hereby given that the Summit County Council will meet in session Wednesday, August 15, 2012, at the Summit County Courthouse, 60 North Main Street, Coalville, UT (All times listed are general in nature, and are subject to change by the Council Chair) 3:20 PM Closed Session - Land Acquisition (20 min); Litigation (30 min) 4:10 PM Work Session Review of council mail and calendar items (5 min) 4:15 PM - Continued discussion regarding priority of strategic issues and goals; Anita Lewis, Assistant County Manager (45 min) 5:00 PM Consideration of Approval Pledge of Allegiance Discussion and possible approval of RFP for fairground facility; Robert Jasper, County Manager Continued discussion and possible decision regarding the applicants, Meagan Ferrin and Rich Sonntag on behalf of Promontory Development, LLC, who are requesting a special exception to allow for a bond release for the Promontory Ranches SPA Development Improvement Agreement; Amir Caus, County Planner Manager Comments Council Comments Council Minutes 6:00 PM Public Input Public hearing regarding Notice of Proposed Tax Increase for Service Area # 6; Blake Frazier, Auditor Public hearing regarding Notice of Proposed Tax Increase for Summit County Municipal Fund; Blake Frazier, Auditor Individuals with questions, comments, or needing special accommodations pursuant to the Americans with Disabilities Act regarding this meeting may contact Annette Singleton at (435) 336-3025, (435) 615-3025 or (435) 783-4351 ext. 3025 Posted: August 10, 2012 11:30 am to Close Wed/Thurs/Fri, August 15-17, 2012 The Park Record Coupon Required Dine in only St 2 for 1 ill en after 5ptrees m Seafood,Steaks & Sushi Now Open for LUNCH Sushi Happy Hour 5:00-6:00 Daily (1/2 Price on select sushi rolls) Please present coupon to your server before ordering Limit two per table. No split checks. Sushi is not considered an entree. Discounted entree of equal or lesser value 18% Gratuity will be added prior to discount. We reserve the right to cancel this opportunity at any time. 1251 Kearns Blvd (at The Yard) p.(435)655-0800 www.blinddogpc.com Help Give Back For every new 1-year subscription sold this month, $5 will go to Arts Kids. ‘‘ Empowering Youth Through the Expressive Arts: Connecting through Creativity" Youth development program utilizing the arts to teach positive expression and leadership tools to youth at-risk. Artists teach problem solving, creative thinking and listening. Subscribe today circulation@parkrecord.com 435.649.9014 The Park Record Core Samples By Jay Meehan Here's mud in your ear Whizzing toward them at somewhere around 100 miles per hour, the fouled-off fastball took dead aim at the two fans nestled alone in a front row just off home plate. Smacking into the protective screen, the ball fell to the ground proudly, having provided a proper amount of exhilaration to balance the slightly higher ticket price. Even on an evening when temperatures hovered in the low nineties at game time and billowing smoke from the thenthree-day-old lightning-caused "Pinyon Fire" in the southern end of the valley thickened the air, rooting for the home team came easy to those taking in a midweek Salt Lake Bees game at Spring Mobile Ballpark. With banter and brews flowing freely and subject matter ranging from the relative merits of Chicago Dogs as opposed to brats and why the Bees, who'd won nine out of ten and six in a row, were suddenly so redhot, the routine act of a ball boy bringing new balls to the homeplate umpire presented the two fans with what would become the crux topic of the evening: baseball-rubbing mud. It would be the male of the species, of course, the pedantic one, who would first bring up and then dominate the conversation about how each and every new baseball used at the professional level had to be rubbed with a special mud before they were allowed to be put into play. Although his knowledge base on the subject was somewhat limited, that didn't keep him from going on and on about how the mandatory rubbing of mud onto baseballs gave pitchers a better grip and more control over the ball so they wouldn't "accidentally" drill the opposing batter. Of course, the fact that mudrubbing also makes it easier for a pitcher to strategically nail a batter on purpose, as payback for a member of his own team getting whacked, is only one of the ironies inherent to the line in the rule book that requires umpires to make sure that the factory gloss has been removed from each ball. There is also the monopoly long held by Lena Blackburne Baseball Rubbing Mud (of New Jersey) to supply all majorleague teams and their minorleague affiliates (including the Bees) with extract from its The routine act of a ball boy bringing new balls to the home-plate umpire presented the two fans with what would become the crux topic of the evening: baseball-rubbing mud." triple-secret hush-hush magicvoodoo Jersey shore mudhole - the Bees being an affiliate of the Los Angeles Angels (of Anaheim.) With that night's Bees' opponent, the Oklahoma City RedHawks, scoring once in the second inning and the Bees coming back to tie it up in the third, the game proceeded at a snail's pace with the home plate umpire continually making trips to the mound to break up what he saw as unnecessary filibustering from both sides of the aisle. The upside to this for the two fans in question was that it allowed for mud talk and suds consumption to continue pretty much unabated. The pedantic one sustained his mushy-clay folklore, refusing to come up for air even when treading the unsure ground of whose job it is to rub up the required six-dozen baseballs prior to each game. He believed that the duty belonged to the umpires but doubt arose as he recalled reading something about various clubhouse personnel also being given permission to wallow in the mystical muck. The game itself came to his rescue, however, with the Bees, who would end up with four triples for the evening, scoring two runs in each of the fourth, fifth, and sixth innings. Not that the game had speeded up any. It's just that runners crossing the plate on a semi-regular basis relieves the tedium. However, after eight innings, with the game reaching the three-hour mark and the home team comfortably in front 7 to 4, it was decided that slipping out early for the drive back to Hebertown wasn't a bad idea. Mud or no mud, in the relatively short time it took to leave the building, Salt Lake reliever Adam Russell began to lose his grip. First, seemingly attempting to stick the pre-mudded ball in the opposing batter's ear, he caught him on his upraised elbow. Then he walked the next guy on four pitches. And finally he loaded the bases by, yes, you guessed it, beaning yet one more Oklahoma City batter. You had to wonder if the Lena Blackburne Baseball Rubbing Mud company offered any kind of money-back guarantee. By the time the AM station carrying the Bees games had been located on the radio dial, the worst-case scenario had been realized. There was no joy in Mudville! All three runners had scored and the ballgame was knotted at 7. Luckily, the station lost its reach in the canyon. The news that the Bees would get their mud together and come back and win it in the 10th would be left for the following morning. Jay Meehan is a culture junkie and has been an observer, participant, and chronicler of the Park City and Wasatch County social scenes for more than 40 years. Writers on the Range By Sarah Gilman Art as elegy How do we grieve? How do we grieve for all that disappears into the maw of human appetite? How do we grieve for something as beautiful and terrifying as the polar bear? The white-haired woman's voice broke as she stood to ask her difficult question, the other audience members turning somber faces toward her - lines of attention spun inward like the spokes of a wheel, like mourners reaching hands to their most bereaved. We panelists, the poet Kim Stafford, author Luis Alberto Urrea and myself, paused to exchange glances. We were supposed to be discussing the future of writing in the West, closing a conference celebrating 25 years of Fishtrap, a nonprofit in Enterprise, Ore., dedicated to Western writing. It was an unwieldy topic, but it seemed suddenly manageable in comparison. How do we grasp the obliteration of so much we have known and loved? Biologists once collected specimens of life from all corners of the world just to understand the variety it contained. These days, we catalog and collect to forestall complete loss and to understand our role in that loss, not just of distinct species, but of our collective memories of them, of what the world has been. National Geographic photographer Joel Sartore has his Photo Ark. Trish Carney has her meditation on roadkill. Even architect and artist Maya Lin, perhaps best known for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, is working on a memorial to the nature-that-was, perhaps the most ambitious project of them all. Lin's "What is missing?" seeks to raise awareness that we are in the midst of - and are ourselves mostly responsible for - Earth's sixth mass extinction. It includes permanent and traveling installations and sculptures displayed around the world - larger-than-life gramophoneinspired listening cones that play film clips and sounds of threatened and endangered species, an "empty room" where viewers enter a darkened space and see species only by catching flickering projections on a hand-held screen, electronic billboards in Times Square, and over 75 films. Its center, though, is a spare website that opens with a black screen and a constellation of bright dots that rearrange themselves into mammal, bird and amphibian shapes before resolving into a map of the world's losses - a global "Map of Memory" - including ‘What is missing?' asks viewers to see the Earth itself as a whole place, characterized not just by its collective losses, but by the upswell of efforts to stem them and to reimagine our lives." the West's once mind-boggling abundance of salmon and bison, its California grizzly bear, its undisturbed rivers and topsoil. Viewers can add to this catalog: the meadowlarks they no longer see at the ends of their driveways, the horned toads that used to haunt their gardens. But here is where the traditional concept of elegy breaks down. For Lin's is a preemptive memorial, insisting that the cascade of loss-yet-to-come can be prevented. It lists ways to shrink your environmental footprint. And if you turn the clock on the map to the present, descriptions of current conservation efforts appear across the globe. The clock turned forward will eventually present "A Greenprint for the Future," satellite images of Earth by night, with the lights rearranged to reflect how it would look if human needs were balanced with, well, those of everything else. "‘What is missing?' will allow people to see an entire river system as a place, or the African Plains migratory corridors as a place - habitats that must be seen outside of man-made boundary zones," Lin writes in her artist's statement. More than that, though, it asks viewers to see the Earth itself as a whole place, characterized not just by its collective losses, but by the upswell of efforts to stem them and to re-imagine our lives. Perhaps here is an answer to that woman's question at Fishtrap. Looking forward, grieving for what has been, we must remember that loss is not new to the world, and that loss is also possibility. In basic ecology, you learn that destruction is itself a creative force. Mass extinctions are followed by the frenzied development of new life. And habitats prone to strong forces of change - volcanoes, blowdowns, wildfire, extremes of weather and disease - are often the richest and most diverse. These landscapes provide a greater variety of niches for creatures to occupy, and force innovation through evolution. The end (and never-ending) result is a living menagerie that is continually reborn with improbably spectacular results. You can think also of the creative world this way. As the writer David James Duncan pointed out at that same Fishtrap conference, artists often produce their best work from places of great pain, the personal and societal disasters that shape their vision. Perhaps this world of deepening wounds is already multiplying our creative opportunities - and our capacity to reflect, reinterpret, innovate and ultimately, hopefully, act. Sarah Gilman is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country News (hcn.org) in Paonia, Colo. She is the magazine's associate editor. |