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Show Page A1 6 0 Thursday, September 1 7, 1992 The Park Record Section A mm tie (OF "MMM CWJIS SUMMEIF Inside or out on the deck if; w " - 1 (( 1 SOIT, SALVD AND SANDWICH BAR FOR LUNCH - only $4.50 FABUIOLS SUNDAY BRUNCH served 9 am (o 2 pm Lunch Monday - Saturday 1 1 :30 am to 2:00 pm Dinner Daily 5:00 pm to 9:30 pm Live Entertainment Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings and Sunday Brunch r I3s mm msm AT PROSPECTOR SQUARE 649-8060 I MINERS C7 Presented by ROTARY CLUB OF PARK CITY Thank You! The Rotary Club of Park City would like to thank the following individuals, businesses and organizations for their generous contributions contribu-tions and support in making this year's Miner's Day celebration such a success: AFL-CIO Albertsons Alpine Slide Park City Alex's Restaurant Anderson Lumber Bedlam, Inc. Berrett Mortgage Services Butko Chevron CBS Associates Centennial Development Chez Betty Christmas on Main St. Ciseros Claire (Daisy) Grahm Coalition Title Coca-Cola Bottling Co. Coldwell Banker Real Estate Cole Sport David White Architect Dering and Associates Deer Valley Ski Resort Design Coalition Druffner and Associates Dugins West, Inc Eric Schifferli Family Jewels Frameworks KPCW Mayor Brad Olch First Security Bank Gordon Strachan Great Garb Iron Horse Auto JANS Jim Kennccott Jupiter Property Mgt. Leanne's McDonalds Needle & I Norm Nelson Old Town Gallery PCHS Yearbook Committee PC Municipal Corp. Prudential Coleman Real Estate PC Gold Connection PC KIS Photo Robert Morris & Assoc. Silver Shears Stein Erikscn Lodge Summit Sports Medicine Silver King Bank Ted Warr Architect Terry Christiansen White Wolf Gallery Wintzer Crippen Park City Police The Park Record The Yarrow Park City Police PCHS Yearbook Committee Park City Recycling Yarrow Hotel Top Stop w i v Special Thanks to Rich Martinez and Hank Rothwell of United Park City Mines for Mucking and Drilling!!! Aimdl Sad Dt (Gapes... BY TOM CLYDE Batten down the hatches A neighbor stopped by the other day to borrow my ladder. He's one of those guys you sort of have to keep an eye on when it comes to borrowing tools. Once he borrowed my chain saw because he had a piece of chain he wanted to cut. So I kind of casually asked what he had in mind with my ladder that he couldn't reach from the ground. "The President is coming to town," he said. "I gotta get ready." It wasn't immediately clear to me what a presidential visit to the Beehive State had to do with borrowing my ladder. What was he going to do, stand it up on the street corner so he could get a better look at the President? "Nope. I've got to put the plywood up. Got to get those windows boarded up before the President gets here. Not just the President. This time we got both Bush and Clinton here at the same time, speaking to a big convention of National Guard folks down in Salt Lake. So I'm nailing plywood over the windows." "Say what?" "You watch the news. Everywhere Bush goes these days, there is a hurricane. He's passing through Salt Lake, and I want to be ready when the wind blows through here. Even the national news has called this a whirlwind visit. Plywood on the windows, food cached in the basement, flashlight, battery powered radio, and the whole routine. And when he gets ready to pass out those hurricane relief checks, I'll be there right in line." I thought about his theory a little, and there is a sort of disturbing overlap between Presidential visits and natural disasters lately. Bush now has to do an environmental impact statement before leaving the White House. Clinton shows up any time there is trouble, too. And we have both of them arriving at the airport within a half hour of each other. The two candidates were scheduled to address the Guard within about an hour of each other. That's a lot of hot air. Things could really blow. But we are not in hurricane territory, so I wasn't too worried. My neighbor wasn't taking any chances, though, and had his house nailed shut, bracing for the worst. But how bad can it be? "Well, Bush could start talking about family values. I mean, here they are in Utah, sort of the font of conservative family values. If they get into that, the winds will be hot and strong. They are talking to a military audience, so they might get into defense spending. Bush will talk about the war in Iraq, and what a great success that was. Clinton will talk about the war in Iraq and what a fiasco it was. Get those two at it, and the winds will howl." My neighbor had a point. "What if Clinton starts in on his draft status? Landslides on top of the gale. I'm sand-bagging the front door, too." It's kind of a sad commentary on the political year when the first head-to-head meeting of the presidential candidates is cause for boarding up the windows and battening down the hatches. Autumn Aloft could have been held over another couple of days. This is being written before either candidate has uttered a public word in Utah or paid the obligatory visit to the Mormon Church headquarters. But like most of the campaign news this year, the actual news story could be written before either candidate speaks, since neither has anything to say. Bush will crow about our glorious victory over the evil genius Sadam Hussein, who, with arms provided by former President Reagan, had become a major threat in the Middle East. Well, we sure took care of him. He was headline news for a year or so, and now you never hear about Sadam any more. Hardly ever, except maybe when he is still building nuclear weapons or blowing minority factions to smithereens. But it was a great victory and a solid piece of foreign policy strategy just the same. Even better than the war in Panama. So Bush will praise motherhood, apple pie, the National Guard, and the Pentagon procurement budget for making America what it is today. And he will probably talk about the military record of the other candidate. Clinton speaks second. He has a delicate balance to keep here, talking to a group of men and women who have worked as hard to stay in the shrinking military as Clinton did to stay out of it. It's a tough audience for that kind of discussion. The problem is that Clinton dodged the draft. Now that doesn't especially bother me, since most of the people I know who were draft age during the Viet Nam war were spending a lot of time with Canadian travel brochures. Some went, some got lucky in the lottery, and others went to all kinds of efforts to stay out of it The sad truth about the draft in those days is that if you were from a well-connected family, or a good student, or suddenly found religion and wanted to spend two years in the south of France as a missionary, you could get out of the draft. If you were poor, or without connections, you had a pretty good chance of fighting a war that a sizeable portion of the population didn't think we should have been fighting. But Clinton has blown this issue. He should have come right out and said that he, like most men his age, did not want to go to Viet Nam, and did everything he could to get out of it. The convoluted stories and excuses are wearing thin. He might have said, "I dodged the draft to stay home and chase babes. Next question." That would have ended the discussion. Might have said . . . That's kind of been the story of this election. Bush is running against himself, promising "change" that apparently he can only accomplish in his second four years in office. He promises tax cuts, which worked so well last time around in balancing the budget. And he talks about family values. Clinton is just as vague. And with the election about six weeks away, the only thing I know for sure is that I don't want to vote for either of these guys. If this is the best choice our Political Process can produce for us, we've got problems a whole lot deeper than Murphy Brown's baby or the deficit.. Is there a way to get the ,( next hurricane to hit Washington? Slrnlke ai Venim BY TERI ORIl A river of time My friend from New Jersey, who has just moved to Park City, talked me into going to Jackson last weekend. Her family has a place there for the month of September where they hike the hills and float the river and eat, drink and make all kinds of merry. She knew my gypsy tendencies, and so, with no pressure, I grabbed books and cameras and cowboy boots and headed up to where the west is just like you see it in the movies. I've been to Jackson Hole, Wyoming a handful of times and I am always breathless at the majesty of those mountains that rise straight up from the valley floor. They are rugged and unforgiving and reach sharply for the sky. I know the stagecoach rides are cheesy and the shoot-outs silly and I'm glad we don't have them on our Main Street, but they are still fun to see. I love the wooden sidewalks, the fine galleries and the interesting shops. But mostly, I love the people. I love the ones who live there and the ones who wish they did and the ones who come speaking in foreign tongues. Our group turned out to be bilingual and very witty, no matter the language. The New Jersey contingent is married to Mexican blood and the children have studied and lived in several countries. At dinner the first night the Spanish songs were passed along with the butter and the French phrases were dropped with the forks. Our guides were old friends of the New Jersey folks and turn out to be ex-patriots of Salt Lake City now living in West Yellowstone. Dave and Susie could name the critters that, without my glasses, I mistook . for slow moving elk "Domestic bovine" and spot big birds in the sky. After an exciting sighting on the Snake River yes on we were floating and canoeing more later, we saw an immature eagle. Immature, we were sure, because it was a male who seemed to be making faces at us. "No, no, the color of the feathers," Dave explained. Anyway, he told us to look quickly at the huge black bird approaching from the east I looked up at the dark cloud being formed above us. The American Airlines bird is not native to the . Wyoming sky, but has been "introduced" as they say in wilderness circles. On the river, I was the third person in the two-man canoe on a place where the park service recommended only "experienced canoe operators" attempt to navigate. We hit the rapids after about half a mile of floating, and I found out just how cold the water in the river is this time of year. Very. Our spot on the river also turned out to be an excellent vantage point for the storm in progress further out in the valley. The lightning was especially spectacular as viewed from our helpless position floating down the Snake. We got off just as the skies opened up, and it poured for hours. BIG FAT DROPS. This was a crowd of outdoor enthusiasts. Jocks, simply put They all hike and bike and horseback ride and swim and ski downhill and cross country and lift weights. I added an unexpected element to the group. No other person had even considered bringing People magazine along, but before the weekend was over they all had read it The fridge was stocked with things like yogurt and fresh fruit and the cupboard had bran cereal and fiber bars. I snuck in beef jerky the first day and by day two, I added gummy bears to the lunch with the sprouted sandwiches. The contribution did not go unnoticed. At the Mangy Moose we did not take off our shirts like the band members did but we thought about it We danced for hours with cowboys and cops and computer specialists. Well, maybe they were. I mean, they thought we were all cousins and sisters and worked as waitresses and doctors. Being out of your zip code allows everyone a little literary license. Breakfast at Nora's Fish Creek Inn in Wilson was worth the wait and we found a big round table where we talked about newspapers and the role they play and the elite, liberal press. The New York Times versus USA Today approach to journalism. One of my favorite topics. I bought the Denver Post and we disected that too. Liked the local stuff, hated the sports, lukewarm on the national scene. Shopping around the square downtown turned up trendy designer labels, but also great local cowboy crafted items that had a regional flavor all their own. Big silver earrings and big silver belt buckles. Later that night at the Cowboy Bar where couples glided around the dance floor, I saw one woman in the most intricate and beautiful patchwork shirt with a yoke I have ever seen. Down her back, woven into her thick black braid were ribbons of several colors. Her cowboy boots looked like they worked on Tuesdays and danced on Saturday night. A real cowperson. The men in the place, about 80 percent, wore cowboy hats that were protection from the elements more than fashion statements. There were adult pillow fights back at the condo, and talks about wilderness policies and zoning and planning regulations. Chatter in three languages. Off-key Off-key singing in three languages. Hugs by the weekends that transcended all languages. And it strikes a vein with me the best of times are those where friends of friends become friends. There is a magic that sometimes, given the right set of circumstances, can create a shine brighter than a silver belt buckle. The trees are in technicolor right now in Jackson. Bright red maples, golden apsens, greenyellow cottonwoods. The warm memories of the weekend will remain backlit by the warm colors. Memories of the laughter that had us quaking with the aspens. If you re not recycling, you're throtuxng itattaway. v |