More thoughts later!!! I just am so excited!!! Love is unconditional! Congratulations to these the first gay couple to wed in UTAH!!
Stumbled across this tree this past weekend… Fascinated we spun around and drove past again so I could get a picture! I LOVE THIS! Just for the sheer craziness of it!
Decided to Google it to get the story behind it and found myself quite touched with what I found
“A Shoe Tree has existed in the location for decades, people who have lived in Park City for that long say. There are various legends about who started throwing shoes into the branches. Several people who moved to Park City in the mid-1970s say the Show Tree predates their arrival in the city.
One of the prevailing legends holds that the Shoe Tree resulted from some sort of drunken fisticuffs. Someone might have thrown another person’s shoes into the tree, causing a fight, goes one legend. The shoes were thrown into the tree after the fight, another variation holds.
Another story that has been told involves a 1970s veteran of the Vietnam War who, having returned to the U.S., threw his shoes into the tree in celebration of being back in his home country.
Jeffery Novelle, who has lived in Park City since 1964 and now lives in Old Town, says he is well aware of beginnings of the Shoe Tree. Novelle was the first person to put shoes into the tree, he says.
Novelle recalls it being either 1969 or 1970 and his brother, a Vietnam War veteran by that time, was in town. He and his brother were walking up a tiny dirt road called Easy Street that ran through the area at the time. His brother was wincing from the pain of blisters on his heels, Novelle says, recalling that he suggested his brother take off the combat boots that were bothering him and put his feet into the nearby creek for relief.
The brother removed the boots. Novelle took them, tied them together and hurled them into a tree. They left them there. Within 1 1/2 years, people threw tennis shoes, ski boots, sandals and moccasins onto the branches, Novelle says. His brother’s combat boots remained hanging in the Shoe Tree for at least four or five years, he says.
“I thought the city would come and say this isn’t right, you’ve got to take them down,” Novelle says. “I’m surprised it’s still there.””
I think I was about 15 years old… those years are fuzzy… and I am old… I was sitting on a grassy hill… under the stars in beautiful Park City, Utah… wondering if people around me were smoking pot or dancing in a mosh pit somewhere like I had heard about… But somehow I just don’t think that was happening here…
People swayed … Girls cried…. I’m sure more than one mullet got laid that night.
We ate at McDonalds on the way home… living the dream people… living the dream…
I think tar and feathers are an appropriate punishment.
I accept this.
“Take us somewhere local spot in your city and show us what we’re missing…you’ll be saving us thousands of dollars now that we won’t need to take that trip!”
Grab a cup of coffee … Buckle up… Play your favorite CD .. and drive… about 45 miles from my home is an island… Not the tropical banana tree coconut cocktail lounge chair on the beach kind I crave… But an island none the less… it is a beautiful drive… with a road built right out over the water to drive out to it… the smalls love to “drive on water” and really this little island has its own magical properties… even if lacking all the other magic.
Just until the day I can afford the other kind of island 🙂
THE LAKE.
In youth’s spring, it was my lot
To haunt of the wide earth a spot
The which I could not love the less;
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound.
And the tall pines that tower’d around.
But when the night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot — as upon all,
And the wind would pass me by
In its stilly melody,
My infant spirit would awake
To the terror of the lone lake.
Yet that terror was not fright —
But a tremulous delight,
And a feeling undefin’d,
Springing from a darken’d mind.
Death was in that poison’d wave
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his dark imagining;
Whose wild’ring thought could even make
An Eden of that dim lake.
Edgar Allan Poe