Dreams to Remember | News | Salt Lake City | Salt Lake City Weekly
We need your help.

Newspapers and media companies nationwide are closing or suffering mass layoffs since the coronavirus impacted all of us starting in March. City Weekly's entire existence is directly tied to people getting together in groups--in clubs, restaurants, and at concerts and events--which are the industries most affected by new coronavirus regulations.

Our industry is not healthy. Yet, City Weekly has continued publishing thanks to the generosity of readers like you. Utah needs independent journalism more than ever, and we're asking for your continued support of our editorial voice. We are fighting for you and all the people and businesses hardest hit by this pandemic.

You can help by making a one-time or recurring donation on PressBackers.com, which directs you to our Galena Fund 501(c)(3) non-profit, a resource dedicated to help fund local journalism. It is never too late. It is never too little. Thank you. DONATE

News

Dreams to Remember

by

comment

My oldest son dreams of playing in the NBA someday. He’s in sixth grade, 5-foot-4, 130 pounds and can shoot lights out. I don’t have the heart to tell him his chances are slim, being Greek and all; Greeks are humpers not jumpers. But what little chance he has of making the pros is greater than his chance of ever being governor of Utah, or a senator, or a congressman.

Too bad for Utah, because Pete is a pretty smart kid. He’s also a sensitive kid who feeds the hungry, donates to the needy and cries at sad movies. At 11, his group of friends is nearly as diverse as my own were at his age. But I had the advantage of growing up in Bingham Canyon, where cultural differences didn’t matter to anyone, Mormon or not. He’s managed to achieve that diversity growing up in the valley, though, where kids like Pete and his friends stick out like chunks of tofu in miso soup.

By the looks of things, Pete is learning traits that are decidedly Democratic. That’s one strike against him. He’s also not a Mormon. That makes for strikes two and three. I hesitate to cast a dark shadow over his future, or that of any other kid who may want to serve politically but carries the yoke of “non-Mormon Democrat.” That’s just the way it is. Only if we move to Price or some other enclave where kids like Pete might become mayor or a state representative, will kids like Pete have a place in shaping Utah’s future—unless they pick up journalism, that is.

It’s even tougher for them because of Mormons like Jim McConkie. A few years ago, McConkie pissed and moaned to the point of splitting the Democratic Party because he and people like him believe only Mormon Democrats can (or should) get elected in Utah. They also believe that the Utah Democratic Party is unfriendly to Mormons. Furthering that mission, McConkie now has the gall to challenge the Utah Legislature to cut funding to the University of Utah, because he thinks certain factions there discriminate against Mormons. What a crock.

Compared to what non-Mormon kids go through here every day, compared to the doors that will be shut to them when they move into the local job and romance markets, and compared to all else they will encounter from cradle to grave, what McConkie deems as discriminatory fully defines misplaced virtues. So, McConkie, Pete had better make the NBA, or you’re going to have to say a few more prayers to cover your blind, bland, self-serving, self-righteous ass.—John Saltas