I am a product of a whacky little neighborhood in Salt Lake City, UT. I hear you ask " is there such a place in Zion?". 9th and 9th my friends, and while there isn't anything extremely different about my odd little neighborhood (and when I say odd I mean odd in Utah), other than the gay friendly attitude, the quaint coffee shops, privately owned business's, and of course the amazing Tower Theatre, all of my friends (myself included) from 9th and 9th have turned out a tad "different".
I've analyzed this for a while now. I realize that I cannot speak for my friends... you know who you are... but I can for myself. So I begin to explore the "why's" of my individual expression, and how I came to be in a town not so fond of being distinct.
I was born in Chicago, July 1st 1985. My mother, who is so beautiful, was 24 and my Father was 30. My Mother's side of the family is Serbian, hot tempered, passionate, kind of crazy, but in a good way. My Grandpa died when I was 2 from bone cancer and my Grandmother, who is an amazing woman, is still alive and VERY well. I've failed to explain that while my Mother was not raised with any real religious upbringing, they were definitely Christian and they were definitely stubborn about what was and was not acceptable religiously. My mother is the youngest of 5 children and the only girl. She joined the LDS faith when she was twenty, which promoted her semi cross country move to Provo, Utah, and also promoted a huge panic in her family. Later she met my Father. They were married in the Salt Lake City temple, and then moved back to Chicago where my Father worked for my Grandpa at a steel mill he owned. Her family was not happy about her joining a religious cult. But they saw the good in her and the good in my Father and came around eventually. My Father still say's that it was hard to work with her brothers, being he came from a hard working LDS family, and the principle of work had been engrained in his soul early on, while my Serbian uncles were mainly enjoying the nice life America had offered my grandparents.
While my Mother was a convert to the LDS faith, my Father was brought up in it. He's from the Myton/Roosevelt area of Utah. If you're not sure where that is... exactly. My Grandparents owned a farm, growing various crops. My Father being the oldest boy worked hard. He used to tell us that he hated summer as a kid, because that meant he didn't go to school, which also meant that he worked all day. My Grandmother had 6 kids that lived, I've been told that she had a couple of children that died, although I've never asked her about it. Of the 6 children 2 were girls and 4 were boys. Somewhere along the way they adopted my Aunt Wendy, who's parents were related to my Grandmother, and died in an accident when Wendy was just a little girl. So they ended up with 7 children on a farm in the middle of no-where. And I have to add... They are some of the best people I have ever met.
Anyone who knows a bit about LDS history knows about pioneer's and polygamy. I'm a product of both. I'm not sure how far back it goes on my paternal side, but I'm related to Parley P. Pratt who was a famous polygamist (interestingly enough, on my wedding day, I found out that my Husband is also related to Parley P. Pratt, awesome). So I inherited quite a mixture of genes. My Mother's dark Eastern European coloring, her temper, her passion, her intense desire to be close to God, and her strong "I'm not worried about what other's think" philosophy, and from my Father, my sensitivity, my severe love for family, my deep concern for the less fortunate, and of course, my private loneliness.
Eventually the time came for my Father to finish his degree in Mechanical Engineering, so the pilgrimage back to Utah began. By this time I had sister named Briana, who doesn't look a thing like me, doesn't think a thing like me, and is by far my best friend. And this is where it begins. My pregnant Mother, my smart, hard working Father, me, my baby sister and our first house on 9th and 9th.
