('Tis the season for (thankfully) brief bouts of flu, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la. Sorry about missing yesterday.)
Bradley has his computer programed to turn on the radio to the local NPR station every morning at seven, just in case the kids haven't awakened us yet. (As a side note, "awakened" sounds totally pretentious. But "woken" can't be right, even if it is the way I usually say that phrase. Woke us up? Now that whole word is looking very, very odd. Whatever.)
This morning, I dreamily half-heard the local host talking about traffic. "Traffic is very slow in Provo right now, with the Tabernacle fire..." I sat bolt upright and said, "What? Did he say the Tabernacle is on fire?" Bradley confirmed that he had heard the same thing. So I reached for my computer and pulled up the Deseret News.
Sure enough, the beautiful, old, pioneer, stately, gorgeous, unique, amazing Provo Tabernacle was on fire. I read, with my heart sinking a little, that the roof had fallen in, and taken some of the walls with it. The fire had been called in somewhere around 2:30 am, the roof had fallen around 6:00 am, and the fire was still visible inside the building (from the high-rise next to it) at noon. According to the reports, it is likely to burn for a while, because of the heavy timber framework.
Oh! It is sad. I have many amazing memories of that gorgeous old building. We had a sunrise Easter service there one year. I remember watching the early spring sunlight shining through the old pioneer stained glass. We had a pioneer sesquicentennial celebration there one summer; I was an usher and wore a gorgeous late-1800s style costume, with my hair elaborately styled. Last year, I took Zee to his first concert ever, there, to watch his good friend Jacob in a children's choir performance. Just last night, Bradley and I drove past the Tabernacle, and noted that the "Gloria" concert would be there this weekend. We debated going, but realized that sick kids weren't going to make that possible.
I am so grateful nobody has been injured in the fire. (When the firefighters went in, they pulled out almost immediately because of the extreme danger.) And it feels silly to think that this is a tragedy, because it's just a building. But it was a building that was such part of life in Provo, and was such a testament to the determination and spirit of the pioneers. It is a tremendous loss for our community!
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Friday, December 17, 2010
Friday, July 17, 2009
Rain, rain, come and play...
(I will tell you all about bowling, planets, and Costco, but it will be so much better with pictures. Which I don't have yet, since my sister took them and then left to go back to Colorado. But I will get them and then tell the tale.)
Growing up in Las Vegas, blazing hot weather was the norm. As a child, I even played outside in the summertime--sometimes with bare feet! I'm still not sure how that worked. I didn't like the heat even then--rain was (and still is) my absolute favorite favorite weather, and a good thunderstorm could make my day. (It is unfortunate that I also have a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which means I get depressed if I don't get enough sunlight. So, even here in arid Utah, I sit in front of a lightbox for an hour a day during the winter. Otherwise my children have a cranky ogre for a momma. No Pacific Northwest rain forests for me!)
There is nothing I like better than to be outside as the storm blows in. The clouds rush overhead, the wind picks up, and that indescribable smell of rain on the desert fills the air. Then the drops start to fall, just a few big fat ones at first, and then increasing to a crescendo of rain (and sometimes hail) in a matter of seconds.
Big thunderstorms are common in Las Vegas, and they almost always come in the late afternoon/evening. When I was in high school, I was often at work at the public library when it started to rain, and I always felt gypped. One day, a huge storm approached--we could see it out the huge bank of windows looking west. I was dying to go out in it, so I was thrilled that it was time to fetch the books from the outside book drop--a good 100 meters away from the front door of the library. Pulling and pushing the huge, unwieldy replacement cart took two people, so I convinced a fellow worker that we had time before the storm hit.
Right in the middle of switching the empty cart for the full one, it hit--not the rain, but the HUGE dust storm that preceded it. In a matter of seconds, we couldn't see; our ears, eyes, and hair were filled with dust. We shoved the empty cart into the drop box, slammed the door shut, each took a side of the full cart, and tried to make a run for the library. Except it was so windy the cart kept veering, and our eyes were filled with sand...the rain started when we almost to the door. We managed to protect most of the books from the rain, but the books on top were grimy and gritty with dust. Both of us, however, got pretty wet. Which meant, of course, that we were now wind-blown, muddy, AND wet.
Although we definitely looked worse for the wear, our supervisor decided that it would be foolish to send two teenagers home during a violent, flash-flood-causing, crazy loud thunderstorm, and so we trooped into the bathroom to try to clean up a little. Fortunately, my coworker thought it had been a hilarious adventure, but I at least learned my lesson. No more trying to get a little storm-time in when there are books involved!
Growing up in Las Vegas, blazing hot weather was the norm. As a child, I even played outside in the summertime--sometimes with bare feet! I'm still not sure how that worked. I didn't like the heat even then--rain was (and still is) my absolute favorite favorite weather, and a good thunderstorm could make my day. (It is unfortunate that I also have a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which means I get depressed if I don't get enough sunlight. So, even here in arid Utah, I sit in front of a lightbox for an hour a day during the winter. Otherwise my children have a cranky ogre for a momma. No Pacific Northwest rain forests for me!)
There is nothing I like better than to be outside as the storm blows in. The clouds rush overhead, the wind picks up, and that indescribable smell of rain on the desert fills the air. Then the drops start to fall, just a few big fat ones at first, and then increasing to a crescendo of rain (and sometimes hail) in a matter of seconds.
Big thunderstorms are common in Las Vegas, and they almost always come in the late afternoon/evening. When I was in high school, I was often at work at the public library when it started to rain, and I always felt gypped. One day, a huge storm approached--we could see it out the huge bank of windows looking west. I was dying to go out in it, so I was thrilled that it was time to fetch the books from the outside book drop--a good 100 meters away from the front door of the library. Pulling and pushing the huge, unwieldy replacement cart took two people, so I convinced a fellow worker that we had time before the storm hit.
Right in the middle of switching the empty cart for the full one, it hit--not the rain, but the HUGE dust storm that preceded it. In a matter of seconds, we couldn't see; our ears, eyes, and hair were filled with dust. We shoved the empty cart into the drop box, slammed the door shut, each took a side of the full cart, and tried to make a run for the library. Except it was so windy the cart kept veering, and our eyes were filled with sand...the rain started when we almost to the door. We managed to protect most of the books from the rain, but the books on top were grimy and gritty with dust. Both of us, however, got pretty wet. Which meant, of course, that we were now wind-blown, muddy, AND wet.
Although we definitely looked worse for the wear, our supervisor decided that it would be foolish to send two teenagers home during a violent, flash-flood-causing, crazy loud thunderstorm, and so we trooped into the bathroom to try to clean up a little. Fortunately, my coworker thought it had been a hilarious adventure, but I at least learned my lesson. No more trying to get a little storm-time in when there are books involved!
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