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Show A-14 Meetings and agendas The Park Record Wed/Thurs/Fri, March 14-16, 2018 Core saMples By Jay Meehan TO PUBLISH YOUR PUBLIC NOTICES AND AGENDAS, PLEASE EMAIL CLASSIFIEDS@PARKRECORD.COM Ghosts of the green AGENDA SUMMIT COUNTY COUNCIL Wednesday, March 14, 2018 NOTICE is hereby given that the Summit County Council will meet in session Wednesday, March 14, 2018, at the Sheldon Richins Building, 1885 West Ute Blvd, Park City, UT 84098 (All times listed are general in nature, and are subject to change by the Council Chair) 12:00 PM Work Session 1) Site visit to “Woodward Park City - Gorgoza Park” facility located at 3863 West Kilby Road, Park City, Utah; Ray Milliner (90 min) 1:30 PM - Return to Richins Building 1:50 PM Work Session 1) Pledge of Allegiance 2) 1:55 PM - Legislative update; Kim Carson and Janna Young (30 min) 5) 3:15 PM - Council Minutes dated February 28, 2018, and March 1, 2018 6) 3:20 PM - Council Comments 7) 3:35 PM - Manager Comments 8) 3:45 PM – Break 9) 4:00 PM - Continued discussion and possible approval of appeal of Colby School conditional use permit; Appellants: Joe Wrona, representing Andrew Levy, and Park West Preservation Coalition; Ray Milliner, County Planner 6:00 PM Public Input 2:25 PM Consideration of Approval 1) Continued discussion and possible approval of Summit County and Rocky Mountain Power Joint Clean Energy Cooperation Statement; Lisa Yoder 2) 2:40 PM - Continued discussion and possible approval of Engineering and Professional Services Agreement Between Rocky Mountain Power and Summit County; Lisa Yoder 3) 2:55 PM - Advice and consent of County Manager’s recommendation to appoint members to the Snyderville Basin Open Space Advisory Committee (BOSAC) 4) 3:00 PM - Advice and consent of County Manager’s recommendation to appoint members to the Summit County Library Board of Directors One or more members of the County Council may attend by electronic means, including telephonically or by Skype. Such members may fully participate in the proceedings as if physically present. The anchor location for purposes of the electronic meeting is the Sheldon Richins Building auditorium, 1885 W. Ute Blvd., Park City, Utah 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: March 8, 2018 Park Record’s website to introduce site metering PARK RECORD STAFF As Park City and Summit County’s newspaper, we strive to provide relevant, timely and trusted information, and in doing so, strengthen the communities we report on. We also strive to make sure that we innovate in our field and keep up with the times amid the changing landscape of journalism. As you head to parkrecord. com beginning Wednesday, March 14, you might notice something different. We are making a change to our website — a change we want to inform you of and open up a conversation about for any questions you might have. Here’s what will be different: After reading three articles on our website within a 30 day period, you’ll be asked to give us your email in order to continue reading. Content on parkrecord.com will continue to be free — but we are asking for some basic information to add to a database managed by The Park Record. The data will be used internally only — we will not sell it. It will be used for newsletters, email blasts and more from us. If you are a current subscriber to The Park Record and the pop-up appears on your screen, all you’ll need to do is log in to our website with the username and password you already have. If you’re not a subscriber, you’ll need to register your email with us in order to continue reading beyond three articles. Once registered, you will not have to log in again every time you visit the site. But if you’re reading from a different device, clear your browsing history or internet cookies, you might have to sign in again to avoid the pop up. You may choose to not register with us. If you choose not to, you will have access to three articles. You will encounter the pop-up until 30 days from when you finished the third article. After 30 days, you will have another three articles to read before the pop-up occurs again. You will have the option to register with us at any time. Thank you for your continued support of our work. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to us with any questions. You may call our offices at 435-649-9014 or email our circulation manager, Lacy Brundy, at circulation@parkrecord. com. Portraits of deceased LDS missionaries go worldwide Associated Press OGDEN – A northern Utah artist who paints portraits of Mormon missionaries who died while serving and sends them to the deceased’s parents is now helping families all over the world get closure. JR Johansen painted 20 portraits in October. Now, with the help of others, he has found more missionaries in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to paint and the portraits have been delivered to other countries, the Standard-Examiner reported . “It has been a delightful project,” Johansen said. “I love making people happy and this is a happy thing.” The 73-year-old’s mission- ary portraits now are being hand-delivered thanks to former Liberty residents LaMar and Tami Creamer. The Creamers’ son, Nic Creamer, is a pilot for SkyWest Airlines and has helped his parents arrange to deliver the portraits through privileges he has with the airlines. The first one delivered was a portrait of Elder Aaron Patiole, which he took to Australia, LaMar Creamer said. “When we got there, the look on the face of the family members and the closure it seemed to bring, made it all worthwhile,” LaMar Creamer said. “One brother in particular just spent an extended amount of time looking at the picture.” Johansen’s son, Kyle, has joined his effort by painting two missionaries in the collection. The elder Johansen is now receiving help from fellow Huntsville artist Steve Songer, who is purchasing some of portrait frames, especially for those families who can’t afford one. Families usually will send a letter thanking him for his free gift. “I can just tell it’s been a marvelous thing for them,” Johansen said. “It’s just sort of a divine blessing.” With terminal health problems, Johansen said finding his calling has proved to be a blessing for him too. He struggles with damaged lungs, heart and spirit from years of problems associated with his U.S. Army service in the Vietnam War. There is something to be said about having a purpose in life, he said. “I am a drinker with a writing problem” ~ Brendan Behan The memories know the calendar better than I. And with St. Paddy’s Day on the horizon, reminders of shenanigans past have been flooding the cognitive centers this week more often than not. As when Sammy and I stumbled out of the old St. Mary’s Catholic church up on Park Avenue onto the “Luge” track that was King Road that late winter’s evening back in the day. Until we lost purchase, as they say, and went down in a heap, we were arm-in-arm lost in song. The womenfolk attending us had sent out word that we were off to other mischief when it became evident that Sammy had turned up missing and I was to lead the rescue party. It was relatively early in Father Pat Carly’s pre-Elk’s Lodge run of St. Paddy’s Day revelries, and we knew Sammy couldn’t have made it too far – not in his condition. In fact, I had quickly located him in soft slumber in one of the rear pews of the darkened parish a few steps from the hall where the shindig proper showed little sign of abating. With the slew of Irish tenors reaching critical mass and our brown bag of smuggled-infrom-the-West-Coast Tullamore Dew only vapors, we set off with further misconduct in our crosshairs. But back to King Road where Sammy and I attempted to locate the now-also-missing coefficient of friction usually associated with boot soles and asphalt. Seemingly, when it came to our collective angle-of-repose, we had overdrawn our account. Regaining an upright po- sition had proven nigh on to impossible as we continued sliding and spinning our way down the street to the cheers of those who, no doubt due to the stubbornness of finely-tuned hairs in their middle ears, had yet to assume the horizontal. Inebriation hadn’t helped, of course, only made our predicament more plausible and more enjoyable. My journey ended with the help of an uphill-bound matron who, for whatever reason, kept looking at me and shaking her head. I never did figure out what that Now those Irish, left out west following their part in the construction of the Union Pacific line, knew how to party.” was all about, but who cared, I was upright. Sammy followed suit and before long we were engaged in a new jug with a new song but in similar antics. Main Street’s negotiability had proven a friendlier slope to the intoxicated. Strength in numbers, as it were. It seldom proved difficult for Sammy and I to transition from whatever occupied us at a particular moment, even when sober, into a bout of “Sherlock Holmes trivia,” which, for us anyway, always proved to be a decibel-rich pursuit. Considering ourselves to be advanced-level “Sherlockians,” we would usually announce the start of another round of Holmes-driven minutiae by shouting “If you’re so fecking (Irish street slang) smart” and follow that with the most obscure reference we could come up with in the moment. Something akin to: “In what story did Watson return home to discover Holmes methodically shooting bullets into an opposite wall from where he sat in an armchair in their digs at 221 B Baker Street, what was the significance of the shot grouping, and what was the caliber and model of the firearm in question? The other would always return serve in similar fashion. On such an auspicious occasion as St. Paddy’s Day, we might even argue about the percentage of Sherlock’s Irish ethnicity. I always asserted, of course, that someone possessing his level of brilliance had to be at least partly Irish, whether or not that bloody Scot Arthur Canon Doyle would admit it in print. And so it would go. Jugs would be passed and songs would be sung and topics of conversation would range from the benign to the bellicose — rosy cheeks and the occasional shillelagh most often keeping order, such as it was. You got to love it when you’re looking back and talking trash in a saloon on historic Main Street, even when it’s one of the newer models. After a couple, you can close your eyes and picture yourself and your mates in a grittier time of the old mining camp. Now those Irish, left out west following their part in the construction of the Union Pacific line, knew how to party. Jay Meehan is a culture junkie and has been an observer, participant, and chronicler of the Park City and Wasatch County social and political scenes for more than 40 years. Writers on the range By Julianne Couch What the West takes for granted I was born and raised in Kansas, the state that ranks number 50 when it comes to the amount of land owned by the state and federal government and open to public access. Now I live in Iowa, which ranks number 49. In between, I lived 20 footloose years in expansive Wyoming, which comes in on the list at a heady number five. During my years living and writing in Wyoming, I traveled every highway, byway and backway and many a forest two-track. I hiked trails, got wet in some alpine lakes, traversed grasslands, crisscrossed a Native American reservation and watched antelope graze through a fence around an Air Force base. Many of these areas were set aside for public ownership by the federal government. If I was careful about dodging cow pies, keeping my bearings in gas fields and wearing orange during hunting season, I could do almost anything I wanted on Bureau of Land Management or Forest Service land. I was grateful to U.S. presidents like Theodore Roosevelt for designating national parks and monuments, affirming the concept that some places should be preserved for the public. But I’m embarrassed to admit that I never really considered the concept of public lands until I moved to Iowa. As a Westerner, I’d come to assume that we had the freedom of so much land simply because we deserved it. Surely, we were uncommonly attuned to the beauties of the natural world, vibrating to the flaring of the Milky Way in the summer night sky, or the wind whistling across vast stretches of sagebrush. I hate to admit it, but that’s what I thought. It turns out that public and private lands were apportioned during the 19th and early 20th century largely in accordance with what the mostly white settlers wanted to use the land for. Land with plenty of rain and rich topsoil could yield crops. Other lands that were large enough to support grazing made useful ranch spreads. Land with lots of trees could be logged for timber, and land with mineral deposits could be mined. Lands that didn’t seem particularly useful were retained by the federal government, although they could still be leased if so desired. As a Westerner, I’d come to assume that we had the freedom of so much land simply because we deserved it.” The pattern of land ownership connected to natural resources and homesteading acts is complicated enough to fill a thundercloud of server farms. But now that I’m observing the question from outside the West, I can see how much access to even little bits of public land matters, regardless of how it came to exist. In Iowa, the state’s native prairie and timber has been mostly subdued by tractors, combines and herbicides. Today we use our topsoil and precipitation to grow corn and soybeans to feed the cattle and hogs that in turn “feed the world.” These days, some of this farmland is disappearing under development. I’m fortunate to live in a small town with a state park at its edge. In a good snow year, I can cross-country ski if I break my own trail. In summer, I can walk to the top of a 250-foot limestone bluff for a good view of a two-lane highway, a cornfield, and my small town on the banks of the braided-blue Mississippi River. There, I can find a blood-pressure-lowering peace that reminds me of how I felt walking in the deepest forests or broadest basins of the public-land West. My current detour to the Midwest has taught me how central to my own happiness is the peace of natural places. I’ve managed to find it, on both sides of the 100th meridian. But it has taken some doing. I stitch together the fragments of bottomland wildlife refuges and un-tillable river bluffs converted to state parks. I bind these public spaces together with the private places I visit by invitation: family farms, where I can swim in a pond or pull trout from a spring-fed creek; timbered acres, where I hunt for morel mushrooms; front porches, where I can watch pelicans and eagles soar over the Mississippi River. Still, I lack solitude. I’ve learned that people in private-property states crave the beauties of the natural world just as much as the rest of us do. That’s a hopeful thing, and it shows that access is worth fighting for — whether your state comes in first, last or someplace in between in its gift of public lands. Julianne Couch is a contributor to Writers on the Range, the opinion service of High Country News (hcn.org). She writes now in Iowa, on the western edge of the Mississippi River. |