The exodus South

Today I ran into one of my old co-workers. He was at Lowe's picking up some supplies in order to ready his house to put it on the market, so he could move to St. George. I am shaking my head here. Another person in an almost ceaseless rabble of pilgrims making their wagons South. I told Mandy that I don't get it. I don't know how anyone affords living there and what the excitement is all about. I just came from there and folks... it literally is hotter than Hell there. We were driving down Bluff street and I saw some of Satan's minions crawling out of a fiery cave in the ground and they were saying to each other "Let's go back! It's too hot here!" It could be that I felt extra hot driving around in a car with no A/C.

I also tried squinting and looking through a shimmering heat wave as it boiled off of the road, but I couldn't find much that I adored in all of the red rocks and sage brush. There is nothing more calm, relaxing and enjoyable then looking over a valley of firs and aspen trees. The wind slithering between the trees overhead making the quakie leaves twist merrily around shimmering under a cool blue sky and making a happy rustling sound. The breeze washes over my neck and I can smell a thousand things at once, green grass, pine trees, glistening lakes, wildlife, and even a rain storm bellowing over a distant peak. I can hear the trickle of a nearby stream. I stand and wonder if I am the first person ever to plant my feet where I am now. Nothing that seemed relevant the day before even seems important now and yet my priorities all seem clear now. To me, being in the mountains contains the best parts of what this life has to offer. So I struggle to understand what the allure is to St. George.

I have often thought about the first settlers to that area. They were commanded to travel there and establish Zion. As I often do I try to imagine myself in pioneer's shoes. I imagine myself staggering into the Salt Lake Valley after leaving everything I owned back in a nice house I sold for an old gray mare that died two miles out of town. I lost most of my family on the journey and a foot to the frost bite. But, that is all behind me now. I've made it! I'm tired and so I find a small tree to sit under and take a nap. I pull my straw hat over my face and just as I am drifting off to sleep I feel a kick on my leg. I peer over my hat and see a tall thin gentleman in a suit standing over me with his thumbs jammed in his vest. He's glaring down at me with his head cocked to one side and he is chewing on a blade of grass. He says to me "You brother Ungerman?" I stammer in confusion "Well... yes. Who wants to know?" He nods at me as he says "You best not be restin' jist yet. Brother Brigham says he wants you to pack up your stuff and move to a place called St. George. It'll take you a few weeks to get there and once you do get there you will find a barren and inhospitable land void of water or vegetation for your cattle. If the droughts don't kill ya, the heat will! So... git movin!" He says as he shoos me away with a wave of his hand. At which point I would probably reply with a sharp and hasty comment that would surely have my name blotted off of the records of the church.

I also imagine the first person he talked to he said "Brother Brigham said you need to move to Logan. It's a few weeks travel South and the heat is sure to kill you." and as soon as the messenger left telling the settler to move South the settler turned to his family and said "He said Logan was North right? And we were to just keep traveling until we found a gorgeous valley where our cattle can feed on thousands of acres of lush grassland and the area was surrounded by gorgeous mountains that we could hunt, fish, hike and get lumber from... right?" and his family looked back and shook their heads "yes".

I then imagine that same messenger approaching the next weary traveler into the valley and saying "Brother Brigham needs you to move SOUTH to a place called Logan...no, (mutters to himslf) I guess that's up North now. Um... a place called Um... St. Ralph, no, doesn't sound good. Let's try St. Bartholomew... uh too wordy... um, St. George! That's it! It's a great place... your gonna love it. Don't worry in about 200 years they will have something called "Air conditioning" You will be long gone and dead by then. You probably will never see reservoirs built there, interstate highways, airports, Blue Bunny, In-n-out burgers or the temple be built either. But trust me... You 'll love the heat, because it's a dry heat." As he pats them on the back and as they wearily stagger South he will be sure to watch them and make sure they stay heading south until they are tiny specks in the horizon. As he waves to the disappearing travelers the messenger looks around and says "Now... I gotta find someone to move to Las Vegas. That place is even hotter, more arid and even more desolate!"

Don't get me wrong. I like the place. I like to travel there. But, I always sigh as I make that last curve into Cache Valley and I say to myself "Ah! good to be home!" So, I welcome your comments, your pleas, your arguments, your justifications, and your reasons why so many people I know are moving there. I really want know. Help me understand!