When I was a child, my family lived for a short time in Cache Valley. I pushed through two feet of snow to attend Adams Elementary, explored the upper branches of maples and willows, walked to church, learned to crash and eventually ride a bicycle, made friends. Good memories. We soon moved to the east.
<p style=”margin-bottom: 0in;”>Later as a youth, I would return to the Valley with my family nearly every summer to visit the grandparents, racing across the country in our wood-paneled station wagon. The trips were always remarkable, full of excitement and danger. But the visits themselves were glorious. I played in the parks, hiked the canyon with cousins, succumbed to puppy love, walked to the movies, gorged myself at Boy Scout pancake breakfasts, weeded Grandpa’s garden, renewed friendships – and made more. I well remember those days.
<p style=”margin-bottom: 0in;”>Some 30 years have passed, and I have returned to Cache Valley with a family of my own. Aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents have moved on, passed on. Friends of old have become misplaced. Now it is my children who play, learn, explore, bike and hike, make friends. Now I take them to church, and movies, and yes, pancake breakfasts. Memories made daily, to overflowing.
<p style=”margin-bottom: 0in;”>So why do I love Cache Valley? Its merits are many, but they do not convince. Its faults are few, but they do not dissuade. Once my home, it is mine once more, and because it is mine, I love it.
<p style=”margin-bottom: 0in;”>And because it is ours, let’s make it better.