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I grew up in Vegas for most of my childhood and teens. We summered in Southern Utah, east of Cedar City. My wife and I returned to where a ward met every spring, summer and early fall on Sunday. It was open air and I would usually sit aside the creek and tie bits of pulled grass into knots. Primary was several old aspen tree logs set in parallel. I attended Primary and priesthood, passing the sacrament when I came of age. We would do this every Sunday when we were at the Summer home. Some of my most fondest memories are of that home. It was a place I dreamed of while in Vegas while 3-5 feet of snow covered the a-frame Cabin.

We spent a whole summer working on an immense lashing project on the several acres of Ponderosa Pines, Manzanita and steep drop offs. I had returned from a lashing merit badge course at Thunder Ridge the previous year. It was huge by the time my brother and I got done with it. Life stopped when I was u there.

In spring, usually around easter my paternal grandparents, brother and I would load u the Truck and get the hell out of Vegas. We'd leave on Friday afternoon and return Sunday evening. I have maken the trip so many times I could probably drive I 15 between Vegas and Cedar blindfolded (OK, not really...maybe with an eye patch). I don't know how many of those crappy hot dogs I ate at Hartz in Washington before In and Out opened up. I felt at peace. We'd stop in Vedar and get provisions. Gas for the power system, food, books, etc. It was there that I learned what peace was about. My life was nothing short of hell the rest of the year.

Summers in Utah gave me time away from the broken home my father had rebuilt with balsa into a new, even more messed up home. I was a prisoner to a strict authoritarian religion and strict authoritarian "parental" figures.

I miss those days when I could escape to the mountains and hike, fish or build something with my Grandfather every day for months at a time.

Memories
by Tom Hunter

What do you remember from the time you were a child?
Do you think of moments memory knows well?
Are there little things like trinkets you carry with you now,
That trigger stories memory wants to tell?
Like the people, or the places, the fun or food or games,
Like family trips or chores or how you played,
Is it painful? Is it pleasant? Is it somewhere in between?
Are there things you always wished that you could say?

May the memories wrap their arms around you,
May your childhood take you by the hand,
And may what you remember find healing when it hurts,
So the memories will protect you when they can.

What songs and smells and gatherings come easily to mind?
What have you learned of love from who loved you?
Do the memories need forgiveness to free them from the past,
And find a future you can still make now?


May the memories wrap their arms around you,
May your childhood take you by the hand,
And may what you remember find healing when it hurts,
So the memories will protect you when they can.

And what about the children you find around you now?
Are you making time to sing and talk and play?
So someday they'll have memories of love and being loved,
Protection that'll never go away.


May the memories wrap their arms around you,
May your childhood take you by the hand,
And may what you remember find healing when it hurts,
So the memories will protect you when they can.


p.s. I loved your post.