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Show PAGE 18 THE ZEPHYR DECEMBER 1993 Subject to Change him to another sleigh hill. It's Later, after listening to days of pleading, you give in and take in the middle of town. The hill itself is easy to find, all lit up as it is, and so convenient right reminiscent of the Delicate Arch parking lot on Labor Day. People and more peopfe, pulling all various pieces of equipment out of vans (in this case long pieces of plastic), the parents sheets those all obsolete among looking a little lost You realize your Flexible Flyer is hopelessly second the Some run, time dodging the tubes, the plastic of plastic. But you promised. during cars the parked at the bottom, a light clicks and all those people , trying to stop before reaching on in your memory. bams tom down, cul de sacs put in. But It takes a while to find. So much has changed when you find it, none of that matters. Because here in front of you now is a piece of the world that has somehow escaped the developer's eye. Sitting there just as it did 25 years ago is a Zamboni-smootBut perfect. Where is this little winter paradise? perfect skating pond. Not Somewhere north of Tucson, a little south of the Canadian border. Fortified by this peek back at childhood, you feel strong enough to brave the crowds and take your son to see Santa Claus. You realize that celebrating Christmas at all has become somewhat politically incorrect, and that the crass commercialism of the whole Santa thing thoroughly sickens many of your friends. But your son, being only three, doesn't know anything about political correctness (and with any luck the whole thing will have become just a bad by the time he's old enough to care), so you bundle him into memory, much like the car and go off in search of Santa. Not just any Santa however. The Santa you choose will not have a camera within miles. Santas with cameras tend to hold children on their knees only long enough to get them posed and give them a pair of pasteboard antlers. (Gone are the candy canes of old. Something about lawsuits.) No your Santa will have a real beard, a real belly, be truly jolly and if possible have a British accent. (Yes, it's true. You have watched way too this many old movies.) Anyway, you will not rest until you have found a Santa fitting description. You don't go near a mall, and avoid anything that looks like any sort of grand opening. Rnally you spot a little park. In this park sits Santa's castle. Hiis is it! An outdoor Santa what could be more jolly? Everything seems perfect. The path leading to the castle is flanked by pines, a light snow is sifting down. Then you get inside the castle. A long line winds around and around and back on itself and in Mrs. Suita's hand is a camera. It's too late to turn back. You pass the time by teaching your son the names of Santa's reindeer. And all their sons and daughters. It's looking like a long night. When you get close enough to see, you find that this is definitely not 34th Street. Santa's padding is crooked, his beard is too bunchy and his Utah. How do the kids feel about this? You watch as they accent is almost perfect sit and chat with Santa, and to a person the reaction is the same. Expressions that moments conscious wonder before were maybe a tad petulant transform into that look of pure and lf that adults can't even begin to comprehend. It's not his beard, it's not their wish lists (most of them aren't talking anyway). It's not anything anyone can ever capture or explain. It's magic. It's Christmas. Some thing? never change. - - h. bell-botto- - By Cherie Gilmore It's that time of year again. Time for sleigh hills and frozen ponds, time for candles in the window and kids on Santa's knee. But most importantly, time to write Ted Turner and tell him, "No more colorized versions of 'It's a Wonderful Life'!" In the original black and white, it's a when George wonderful movie, and I try to catch all 27 showings each year. I get teary-eye- d Bailey finds his little girl's petals in his pocket (and I think its unethical of Isuzu to use her name without at least splitting royalties with her). But in color whether it's the eery blue tinge that all lips turn or some combination of many weird factors, I don't know -- 1 only know something is definitely lost. Which is what happens when you try to change a thing that is already perfect Something is always lost For instance, I know of a cliff. Just a bare sandstone diff that doesn't actually do anything. Maybe it houses a few swallows' nests or provides homes for other inconsequential desert life forms. And during rainstorms it transforms into a mass of colors that you will never, ever see anywhere else. But still, it just stands there. This bottlers some people, the fact that it just stands there and will continue to stand there forever, with no help from them. It sometimes makes them feel a tad intimidated. Also frustrated that this particular rock formation is not generating income for them. The obvious solution to all of this is to build ugly, intrusive metal structures and extend them all the way to the top. Yea, a tram, that's it! Then the happy visitors can toss bikes, boots and cameras on the tram and float effortlessly to the top. How silly we will feel, who spent all that needless time and energy dimbing to the top with our hands and feet Did I say something would be lost? What was I thinking? Gosh, I just hopeynothing happens to interfere with construction. It's scary really, how easily something can go wrong. A careless workman drops a wrench in the wrong spot ... so many possibilities. But I digress. We were talking about holiday things. Sleigh hills, frozen ponds. Those happy, youthful memories. Jumping on your dad's back as he guided the Flexible Flyer down the snowy hill past the trees and almost into the rushes at the bottom. You have kept the Flexible Flyer all these years till you had a child of your own. You can't wait to hear his laugh in your ear and feci his little hands clinging to your back as you guide him safely down the hill. You spend half a day searching for this hill. You go to elaborate lengths to find this hill at one point even resorting to reading a map. After a few false turns (and happy to be bade in your own state), you find the turnoff that leads to the hill. Your child has fallen asleep by this time but you know the sleigh hill will be worth waking him for. You remember the hill as being somewhat isolated and feel the edge of something like panic creeping in as more and more houses appear. And then there it is. Your sleigh hill. It has changed a bit, having now taken on its new identity as a carefully manicured subdivision. The trees past which you flew have become The rushes have been replaced with a gas Edgewood Drive and Oak Gest Circle. stationconvenicnce store, cleverly built in a rustic, woodsy style. You let your child sleep. - south-centr- al un-se- 74e oleaM Hearn Residential & Commercial cleaning General & deep cleaning Maintenance services Reasonable rates Yes we do windows LET US SERVE ALL YOUR PROPERTY NEEDS Jim & Lynn Kirkpatrick 259-25- 71 jjgjpilWI other calendars from : Browntrout Publishers IWITHfBXr Under Western Skies ' Writers & the West Excerpts from Edward Abbey, Wallace Stegner, Barry Lopez, and Frank Waters Wild & Scenic Utah Rocky Mountain Wilderness Ghost Towns Tfe. USv jfpl.. . & eft Available at B. Osbom Books or by mail: Browntrout Publishers, P.O. Box 280070 San Francisco, CA 94128-007- 0 If you are interested in other calandars from Browntrout, please write for a catalogue. |