“Success is never final; failure is never fatal. It is courage that counts.” – John Wooden
It had snowed overnight. The promise of spring was no more. There was four inches of fresh Utah Powder covering my deck. A mere three days ago the grass was green and growing. It had grown so much, so fast, that cutting it had been a needed and welcome activity. “Cutting it?” “Cutting it!”
However, even though it was still cold and dark outside, I instantly felt warm inside. Have you ever felt the dawn of a cherished memory whose growing warmth creates a glow throughout your whole being? That’s what I was feeling.
I remembered all of the good people in our town — our hometown: the friend who cuts my hair, Chris DeHerrera; the friend who grooms my dog, “Harry Pupper,” Cherie Crapo; and the ones who have fed me, like Hometown Pizza in Stansbury Park. Those names were just the beginning of my mental list. There are others, lots of others. And, they’ve all really been impacted by the current government-forced shutdown.
We’ve all been impacted. Some more than others. Who in the world ever coined the false phrase, “It isn’t personal, it’s just business?” This crisis is very personal to you and me. And for our friends, such as Chris DeHerrera, owner of Stay Classic Barber Shop, it is as if an unexpected overnight snow and ice storm has literally frozen his business. You and I are seeing a growing, thickening economic ice consume our hometown. It is creating a deepening, unparalleled despair.
When winter’s cold freezes our water into solid ice, we use a warming tool. I have one and it keeps water in my cattle’s troughs in liquid form so my cows can drink and stay healthy. This small trough heater removes enough of winter’s chill to ensure their survival and gives hope. I don’t know if cows dream in color. Heck, I don’t even know if they dream. But if they do dream, I’m confident they dream at least in the color green as they look forward to the day when pasture grass grows lush under their feet and tastes sweet on their tongue again.
This thought is what changed the snowy scene outside my window one morning this week into the warmth and hope of spring inside my heart. I knew I had tools I could employ. Tools to be used in our hometown for the benefit of our friends; the very ones who have helped us fulfill our individual dreams. The ones who make us more attractive by cutting our hair and trimming our nails. The ones who lavish loving care upon our cherished animal companions. The ones who cook and serve us delicious meals for dinner, lunch, breakfast and celebrations.
I wanted to celebrate as a result of this thought, so I used the first tool at hand: my phone. I called Chris and thanked him for what he’s done for me over the years. I asked him for his PayPal address, a second tool.
“For now,” I said, “I can still pay you what I normally would.”
No, he can’t cut my hair for the foreseeable future, but it is the least I can do for such a great friend. He was my first call. Others followed.
What will follow if you and I, those of us still able to do so, use these same two simple tools to contact and trickle economic life-blood to our friends who have given us so much? It will be as if the spring rains of April have arrived to fulfill our dreams. The dream of the arrival of the lush, growing green grass of spring.
It has snowed unexpectedly overnight. The promise of an economic spring appears to be no more. The government-forced economic shutdown has left the likeness of four inches of fresh Utah Powder covering our local economy. Mere days ago the local economy was growing and vibrant. Let’s join together and use our individual tools and relationships to help make it thrive again. Let’s grow it so much, so fast, that we will all get loved, fed and healthy together. Let’s create a hometown of promise!
Lynn Butterfield lives in Erda and is a managing broker for a real estate company.