It's Now A Park...What Will It Be In The Future?

Because it's summer and because it was the weekend and I didn't need to be at work or the theater, we loaded up the puppy and headed to a local park. It's a small park in our little down and we chose it because, as my wife says, "no one goes there."

Of course, that's not completely true--we went there, after all. But as parks go, there's a good chance it won't be overcrowded. It's called Moon Park and it's on the main road in north Farmington. The boys and the puppy ran around. We spent most of the time there in the shade and we left a little exhausted from the exercise.

While I was there, I noticed a plaque located under the park's identifying sign. I don't know what it is about getting older, but I find myself reading things like plaques and historical markers. Maybe it's because I'm older and feel like I'm a historical marker myself. Whatever the reason, not only did I read the plaque, but took a couple of pictures.

You see, Moon Park is located on a site of the first public building in our little town. The red-brick schoolhouse was built in 1860. I don't remember it and we moved to Farmington in the late 1960s. Of course, back then I probably wouldn't have noticed an old building along the main road if it still existed at the time. I might have noticed a park, though.

What I thought interesting from the marker is the information on the old LDS church that was located across the street. I do remember that building. Many of my friends used to go to that church until a newer one was built in the 1970s. The church was converted into a private residence. A few years ago it was leveled and now new homes sit where the church once was. The marker, however, was written as if the church building still stood. If you're new to Farmington and Moon Park, you'd read the marker, look across the street and ask, "What church?"

That's the way of things. Nothing lasts forever; everything's temporary. One day, maybe soon, maybe after decades or centuries, someone may erect a marker identifying the place where the church once stood. It might even say it was built across the street from Moon Park (which was once where children attended an old red-brick schoolhouse). And if that happens, they may look across the street and ask, "What park?"

Another One Bites The Dust...

I've often wondered what it was like for my father growing up. Unfortunately, he passed away when I was young, too young to consider philosophical questions. I didn't realize when he passed just how much I would miss him as I got older.

But if I had the opportunity to talk to him, I'd ask what it was like to grow up during the depression, flying combat missions over Germany, and watching the world literally transform in his lifetime. My dad only made it to his fiftieth year, but boy--what an amazing half century that was. He saw cars that went from Model Ts to super race cars, from biplanes to watching men walk on the moon.

I've often wondered if I'd ever experience something like that, watching life evolve before my eyes. All you have to do is look and you'll realize, you're seeing life evolve all the time.

The latest example, another local business is closing. This is not one of those new-ish, slick auto mechanic garages where everything's clean, and the people behind the desk that take your money have clean fingernails. 

Nope.

This business, Haugens Auto Body in Farmington, Utah, is none of those things, which is what make it so special. It's what gives it its charm. And today, was the body shop's last day in operation. From what I understand, the shop and its surrounding area will be transformed into dwellings for a new generation of Farmingtonites.

The city is changing, as are we all. It's getting bigger (as are we all...). It's getting, well...more complicated. There's traffic lights, zones where you can't park unless you live in the area, more people, more pets, more joggers, walkers, and people on bikes. I close my eyes and I see the old Farmington A/G, the old library, the old Trailside, the old Tom Boy Café. I remember the the siren blaring from the old fire station at 7pm on Wednesday night to signal a fire drill. I remember the old Farmington Elementary that was torn down when they built the new one a half mile away. I remember Miller Floral where Farmington Jr. High now sits. I remember the old bakery across the street from the cemetery.

Every one of those buildings (except for the old fire station, which is now a museum...) is gone, replaced in the name of progress. Don't get the wrong idea--I'm not anti-progress. Most of those buildings, if they weren't torn down, they would have fallen down by now. It's just every one of us, at some point, comes to realize that you can never go back.

And, after today, you can add Haugens to that long (and expanding...) list.

Fadels...A Sign Of The Times

It was a normal drive to the next town south, but this time something was different, something had changed, something was gone.

The Fadels sign is no more.

The sign that's been in the same location for decades (I don't exactly how long...) has been taken down, though nature itself helped the crew assigned to dismantle the aging sign, a sign some called "an eyesore."

The billboard was literally a sign of the times, and it never fit in to its environment, nor did it make much sense. Before those in the Salt Lake Valley discovered what a great place Davis County was to live and raise a family, the Fadels sign stood alone in a field of weeds.

And it stayed that way for years. It wasn't until much later that I found out that Fadels was a furniture store in Salt Lake City. How or why they decided to put up a large sign, I don't know. What made things more confusing is the sign--at least to best of my recollection--never had anything but "Fadels" on it, no Fadels Furniture, no other details, just the singular word.

As time passed, the area was developed and homes began popping up around the sign. The city then put up a sound wall hiding the sign from the freeway effectively destroying the its usefulness. However, I believe the store closed years ago so it really didn't matter if anyone saw the sign or not.

In August, 2012, I stopped by and took pictures of the dilapidated sign, a sign in such disrepair that a tree--a big tree--was growing through the middle of it. I can only imagine those living in the neighborhood hated it and wanted it gone. To them it was just a big pile of rotting wood. To me, it was more.

As progress continues in my little town (not so little anymore...), it's another thing that's forever gone, another building, another landmark that my kids will not identify as being part of the town where they live. Us old-timers can no longer sit at the counter at the drug store on the corner of state and main, or in the seats at the Tom Boy Cafe or play on the big rocks at Farmington Elementary. Nor can we shop at the Farmington AG or buy pastries at the bakery across from the cemetery or go to Lagoon via the back gate or swim in the million-gallon pool with water fit to drink.

No, our kids live in a different world, and even though they play on streets paved and re-paved over and over again, they also ride their bikes over new roads to new homes for new families. And the kids growing up in those new homes will see us old-timers talk about the way the little town used to be and wonder what in the world is "a Fadels sign?"