OCR Text |
Show A-24 The Park Record Meetings and agendas Sat/Sun/Mon/Tues, March 31-April 3, 2018 More dogs on Main By Tom Clyde TO PUBLISH YOUR PUBLIC NOTICES AND AGENDAS, PLEASE EMAIL CLASSIFIEDS@PARKRECORD.COM Looking for the summer harvest ADMINISTRATIVE CONTROL BOARD MEETING NOTICE Public notice is hereby given that the Administrative Control Board of the Snyderville Basin Special Recreation District will meet in a special session on Tuesday, April 3rd at the time and location specified below. All times listed are general in nature and are subject to change by the Board Chair. BOARD RETREAT AGENDA DATE: Tuesday, April 3, 2018 5:00 PM Discussion regarding long-term planning and visioning LOCATION:Utah Olympic Park, Quinney Welcome Center, 3419 Olympic Parkway, Park City, UT 84098 8:00 PM 4:00 PM Discussion regarding Board roles and responsibilities 4:30 PM Discussion regarding the District’s purpose, mission, and values Adjourn One or more members of the Board may attend by electronic means. Such members may fully participate in the proceedings as if physically present. The anchor location for purposes of the electronic meeting is the Utah Olympic Park, 3419 Olympic Parkway, Park City, UT 84098. AGENDA Summit County Board of Health Meeting April 2, 2018 4:00 – 5:30 PM Summit County Health Department 650 Round Valley Drive Park City, Utah 84060 PUBLIC MEETING 4:00 – 5:30 5. UALBOH update (4:25 – 4:30, Marc) 1. Opioid Lawsuit (4:00 – 4:10, Margaret Olsen, Summit County Attorney) 6. County Health Rankings (4:30 – 4:50, Shelley) 2. Approval of Minutes (4:10 – 4:15) 3. Public Comment (4:15 – 4:20) 7. Minimum Performance Standard Review (4:50 – 5:20, Rich, All) 8. Local Health: Board Member Comments, Questions, Observations (5:20 – 5:30) 4. Directors Report (4:20 – 4:25, Rich) 9. Adjourn Medical marijuana proposal won’t stop under new laws Medical proposal passes signature requirement BRADY MCCOMBS Associated Press SALT LAKE CITY – It will be legal next year in Utah for approved farmers to grow medical marijuana for researchers and dying patients under one of several new legislative measures signed by Gov. Gary Herbert this month. The state will also monitor the safety of marijuana extract oils being sold in stores as part of a package of legislation that Rep. Brad Daw, the Republican who sponsored four of the five measures, said Monday moves the state forward at the right pace. Advocates of broader marijuana legislation disagree. They say they plan to get an initiative on the ballot in November that would allow voters to approve a state-regulated marijuana growing and dispensing operation to allow people with certain medical conditions to get a card and use the drug in edible forms like candy, in topical forms like lotions or balms, as an oil or in electronic cigarettes – but not for smoking. Christine Stenquist, president of a group called Together for Responsible Use and Cannabis Education, said she applauds the move to regulate the sale of the oil extract that is used by people with severe epilepsy, but that most of the legislation is hollow. “It isn’t actually moving the ball forward, it’s delaying the conversation,” Stenquist said. “It’s smoke and mirrors.” She said the group already has 117,000 verified signatures for the ballot initiative – more than the 113,000 needed by the April 15 deadline. Under one of the new laws, farmers vetted by the Utah Department of Agriculture and Food will be allowed starting next year to grow marijuana that would be converted into forms such as pills, gel caps and oils, Daw said. It can be used for research or for medical use by dying patients who, under another new law billed as the “right to try” legislation, can get medical marijuana with a doctor’s note saying they have six months or less to live. Daw is cautious about approving any use of full-strength marijuana, which he worries is addictive, but he said the risk is low in this case. “What worse thing is going to happen to them?” he said. The benefit is two-fold, he said: It may help ease their pain while helping the state gather information about how best to use medical marijuana. Stenquist detests what she considers a ridiculous law, which she dubs the “right to try if you promise to die” measure. Another measure will allow for the growth and sale of industrial hemp by state-licensed companies. That movement got a big boost Monday from U.S. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, who said he’ll introduce legislation to legalize hemp as an agricultural commodity and have it removed from the list of controlled substances. The state will also set up a registration system that will re- quire manufacturers of an oil called cannabidiol or CBD, a derivative of cannabis, to be registered to legally sell in Utah stores, said Jack Wilbur, spokesman for the Utah Department of Agriculture and Food. The goal is to ensure no harmful substances reach consumers. The CBD oil has a chemical that may fight seizures and is designed not to produce a high. The state passed a law in 2014 that allowed parents of children with severe epilepsy to use the oils to provide to their children. In the beginning, most parents traveled to Colorado to get the oil. But now an unknown number of stores, including smoke shops and health food stores, are selling the oils, Stenquist said. A final measure provides funding for one staffer at state board that reviews research on CBD, and allows the board to review research from around the world. “I think we moved the ball down the field,” Daw said about the measures. “A lot of people tell me I moved too far. A lot of people tell me I’m not going far enough. I say, OK, I’ve probably hit the sweet spot.” Daw said the ballot initiative would make the dispensing and use of marijuana far too wide open. Stenquist counters that Utah’s slow approach is depriving people with chronic illnesses the chance at life-changing relief. The ballot initiative would create a system where people can get clean, tested marijuana and work with their doctors to see what helps them, she said. “Patients won’t have to go to a parking lot to get a bag,” Stenquist said. Correction SALT LAKE CITY (AP) – In a story March 25 about school breakfasts The Park Record ran in its March 28-30 edition, The Associated Press reported erroneously how long Utahns Against Hunger has been in existence. It was founded in 1979, and is not new. Local News Every Wednesday and Saturday I took the snow blower off the tractor yesterday. It seems a little early, but the fact is I haven’t had enough snow to blow for weeks. The only reason I’ve started the tractor at all is to use the front end loader bucket as a high-class wheelbarrow to transfer firewood from the big pile to the rack on the porch. And then it got so warm that I quit making a fire at night. This winter never got started. The ruts in the driveway were becoming enough of a problem that I thought I’d switch from the snow blower to the grader blade. If it did snow again, the blower would choke on the gravel when it bit into the ruts. And it’s not much use on slushy snow anyway. To be on the safe side, I decided to use the big front end loader, and delay the switch over a little longer. The tractor I normally use for snow removal is a mid-sized Kubota with a heated cab and Bluetooth connection to my phone so I can enjoy the music while clearing the roads. The John Deere is about twice the horsepower and would be the preferred machine, aside from the fact that there is no cab. Seventy horsepower of snow blower in your face is less than ideal — been there, done that. The John Deere hadn’t been started all winter. I never needed that kind of firepower this winter. The batteries weren’t dead, but they were comatose. So when it wouldn’t start (and part of the plan was to actually start it, move a little oil through the system, and charge it up for a couple of hours), I went home and got the big battery charger. It has a setting that pulls enough current from the extension cord plugged into the wall to start almost anything. On the high setting, it will dim the lights from here to Heber. The tractor fired right up, and as I climbed off to disconnect the battery charger, it fell about 3 feet, landing with a sharp corner right on the knuckle in my big toe. The cursing that followed was enough to clean the corrosion off the battery terminals, so that job’s done. I graded the roads until I got too cold, sitting in the wind on the open seat, and declared partial victory. My toe is the color of an eggplant. There is a gash in the top right where the bellows of my tele-ski boot flexes The cursing that followed was enough to clean the corrosion off the battery terminals, so that job’s done.” and bites into it. All of which pointed to the decision to drop the snow blower off the Kubota and finish grading the other roads in heated comfort. It’s been that kind of winter. Last year, I spent 63 hours on the tractor plowing snow. This season, the meter shows 8 hours, and a fair amount of that is the wheelbarrow work. The snowplowing over the two winters was different by a factor of 8. But spring is here. The cranes are back, setting up an unbelievable ruckus every morning at dawn. The geese are on the ponds, and a full complement of songbirds from the redwing black birds to the mountain bluebirds are out and about. I’ve already seen potgut squirrels out in the pasture. My plan to raise raspberries is moving ahead about like the plan to start the John Deere. The yard, which normally should be covered in snow, has dried out enough that I was able to plow up a pretty good-sized garden plot to plant the berries in. I’m going to experiment with three different varieties to see which produces the best. The first batch of bare-root plants arrived. After planting them in pots in the house, they appear to be as dead as Monty Python’s parrot. So I have great expectations for the other two, which should be arriving any day now. A woman in Francis raised raspberries for several years. They were the most beautiful berries you could find. The anticipation went on all summer. Every time I’d ride my bike past her berry patch, I’d check out the progress — leaves, buds, flowers, tiny specks of red, and then the full, rich berries. I’d pack the freezer with them every fall. She had a weedkiller or fertilizer mishap that killed her K entire patch, and decided it was just too much work to start over.H So for a couple of years, I’ve either had to take my chances on the roadside stands, where the berries on top look great, and one layer down, they are either moldy or already jam, or buy the flavorless berries at the grocery store. If only I knew somebody who had some farmland, and the machinery to plow up a garden... So I guess we’ll see what happens with that project. g Tom Clyde practiced law in Park City for many years. He lives on a working ranch in Woodland and has been writing this column since 1986. sunday in the Park By Teri Orr Tales from the crypt It was one of those strange Instant Messenger things that popped up on my phone during a meeting where I wasn’t paying attention anyway. It began — “You don’t know me and I am sorry to contact you this way ... I work in a law office in San Carlos, California. We are cleaning out our safe deposit box of old wills.” And since I grew up in San Carlos, California, she had my attention. “We have a copy of your mother’s will. I looked her up and saw that she passed away — I‘m sorry — I assume you must have a later will than this one. But we also found a cassette tape in the envelope. I thought you might want that. Please contact me...” Since the will was written in 1985 turns out they couldn’t find me easily now, under the married name I had, then. I thought it might be a scam. I would be asked to pay for the tape or the storage of the useless will. But when I called their office, I realized the lawyer in question had attended high school with my half sister — the whole thing was legit. I gave them my mailing address. A few days later the cassette tape arrived. I bought a cheap cassette player and waited a couple of days deciding whether or not to listen. For newer readers of this column — it is enough to say my relationship with my mother was complicated, messy, not warm and not happy and ... lots of nots. I wasn’t sure I needed her criticisms from beyond. Still, I was curious. Maybe the tape would solve some family mysteries. Perhaps there was some treasure hidden in all the knick knacks I had hauled back from California when my sister and I placed Jean in a “memory care facility” a decade ago. Two years later my sister would pass away and I continued my long distance care of my mother, who passed away five years ago. I waited for a quiet night, poured a whiskey and sat down to listen in my favorite chair with a roaring fire. Nothing happened. There was no sound. No movement. I tried different batteries. I tried the old school method of taking a pencil to advance the spools of the tape. Crickets. I told my daughter about it and she suggested I give it to our tech guy at the theater and see if he could find sound. And he did. He put it in a folder on my computer. That night I went home, poured another stiff drink and sat back down with a notebook. What I heard was so typical of my mother. It was all about The Stuff. She started walking through her home — room by room — explaining — between my sister and me — who got The tape did make me want to sit down and write long letters to my own two children and let them know how much joy they have each given me.” what. And why. The desk, the chair, the creepy glass clowns, the Republican badges ... there wasn’t a full minute in the 50 she told any magical family stories. There was much discussion about why — The Stuff mattered — why it really mattered who got what. And that, was the handwritten name of the tape ... Who gets what and why. There were no mysteries solved in the one-sided conversation. There were the forever digs at my sister about her weight. I was a size 4 at the time it was recorded so she wanted to let us know most of her things wouldn’t fit either one of us — for different reasons — but the gray fox fur coat might be small enough for me. (I gave it away — on sight — when I finally got into the house to pack it all up — 35 years of stuff in one place — had to go in one weekend). It was a reminder of her playing favorites, her desired control and of my longing for a real mother/daughter relationship. The tape had a couple of false endings which made me hopeful. They were things she thought of later. ... “Linda gets the old desk downstairs, Teri gets the desk from her grandfather — after all she is The Writer in the family. And you really must write me that book one day. I know you can write a book — if you try hard enough.” And “Teri might as well get my copy of The Prophet. After all, she borrowed it years ago and has never returned it.” The book I don’t remember seeing that she described sounded like a fascinating read — it was called “Mother Goose Steps and other Nazi Rhymes...” I was to receive some crystal martini glasses because she stated clearly — for my sister’s benefit — “Teri is more apt to entertain and use them.” Another set of glasses, I have no memory of — my mother said my Grandmother had stolen from a Standard Oil Christmas party. My grandfather had finally landed a real job during World War II working for Standard Oil in Bakersfield, California. Eventually, it afforded my grandparents a lifestyle very different from the river bottom they started out on in Los Angeles — where my mother was born just before the Depression. My grandmother had been one of the first female detectives with the L.A.P.D. and she was a member of the Red Squad — a group who secretly outed “Commies” in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s. I often wonder how I turned out so radically, liberally, different from much of my known DNA. The tape did make me want to sit down and write long letters to my own two children and let them know how much joy they have each given me. To remind them of some tough times and grand times and how we made it through. To shower them with written love so they never need to care who gets what. Because they will know The Stuff never mattered. Not a single day — not a Sunday in the Park... Teri Orr is a former editor of The Park Record. She is the director of the Park City Institute, which provides programming for the George S. and Dolores Doré Eccles Center for the Performing Arts. |