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Philanthropy: The Haven

By From Our Partners

THE MISSION

Restoring independence—that is the true goal at the heart of The Haven, one of Utah’s premier residential addiction recovery programs since 1969.

Treatment plans at The Haven generally focus on low-income individuals, or those with a high risk of fatality, and don’t stop at treating chemical dependencies: they work to develop independence in mental health, life skills, and stabilization. 

“Many parts of our program, whether it be outdoor recreation or building a resume, sound basic to the general public,” says Heather Chase, executive director. “But the reality is that many of our clients have never experienced anything outside of extreme poverty, oppression, and lack of opportunity.”  

The Haven Utah
Heather Chase second from the left pictured with her team

THE COMMUNITY

In their various residential facilities and sober living communities around the state, The Haven treats a variety of people, from the justice-involved to the unhoused, and is developing ways to be more inclusive of the LGBTQ+ population with identified gender programming.

Many team members at The Haven have a unique understanding of how to help individuals struggling with addiction. One of their team members, Danielle Davidson, went through the program several times, finally succeeding in 

sobriety before becoming a full-time supporter at The Haven. “We see her as a great source of knowledge and depth in treating fellow patients,” Chase says. “She is now on naloxone billboards all around the state. If she can do this, anyone can.” 

Another of The Haven’s biggest missions is education, both for their teams and for the community at large. Within The Haven, a wave of trauma-informed counseling is now creating space for healing and personal growth within addiction recovery. 

“Previously, there was a big focus on militancy in recovery. I got sober that way, but I really enjoy the trauma-informed model because it helps humanize people,” Chase shares. “It helps providers and the public realize that a lot of these behaviors are trauma responses and not the result of being a bad person.” 

GETTING INVOLVED

While volunteering opportunities are rare, The Haven is always in need of donations for their care packages, designed to help transition community members into fully independent sober living. Items such as new clothing, personal hygiene, and cleaning supplies often aren’t covered in funding requests and can add up quickly. Donations of this nature truly go toward caring for someone long-term and are always welcome. 

havenhelps.com
801-533-0070
@havenhelps


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Philanthropy: Adib’s Rug Gallery

By From Our Partners

From an early age, Dr. Hamid Adib of Adib’s Rug Gallery has understood that the best way to find himself was to lose himself in the service of others, a lesson he was taught by his altruistic parents in Iran. 

Since coming to Utah as Ph.D. candidate in Mechanical Engineering, Adib has firmly ingrained himself and his business as a positive force in the local community. He is on the boards of numerous academic, cultural, medical and artistic organizations around the state, offering both his time and his gallery space at the historic Villa Theater for events and fundraisers. Local partnerships include work with Image Reborn, the Natural History Museum, Utah Film Center, Westminster College, Hope Clinic and more. 

Dr. Hamid Adib, Owner of Adib’s Rug Gallery

A favorite of Adib is his work with Heal Child Skin Disease Foundation, sponsoring hundreds of children suffering from painful severe skin diseases such as Epidermolysis Bullosa. Many of these children live in Adib’s home country, which brings the cause even closer to his heart. 

Adib participates with Heal CSD both on humanitarian visits, as well as by raising money in creative ways. When he isn’t running Adib’s Rug Gallery or attending board meetings, Adib enjoys creating what he refers to as “modern-contemporary crazy paintings” in his Salt Lake City home. Every dollar of his painting projects, from supply budget to profits, goes to Heal CSD. He has been able to build a clinic for the desperate patients and he is on his way to add many more.

“We intentionally give back to that part of the world, largely because of the benefit we get in our business from the rich handwoven rug industry,” Adib says. “We take and gain from those communities, so we want to participate in kind to better their lives.” 

Though a few causes are particularly special to Adib’s family, they never give up the chance to give back. “Anybody who reaches out to us wanting sponsorships, support, or to use our facility, we are always open to it,” Adib says. “If we feel confident about the cause of an organization, our team is available to help make their vision become reality.” 

“I just want to be a human,” Adib says. “And the purpose of our lives as humans is to uplift and serve others.”

Adibs.com
801-484-6364
@adibs.rug.gallery


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Comfort Food Favorite: Maddox Ranch House

By Eat & Drink

Comfort, it turns out, is not relative, at least with food. No matter the cuisine or the culture that any given dish springs from, it will contain one neurological common denominator, buried in the primal place in our brains: Nostalgia

In search of Salt Lake’s best comfort food, we asked six restaurateurs and chefs what comfort food means to them. Read on for a traditional take from a Utah classic: Maddox Ranch House.

The Person: Irvin Maddox
The Restaurant: Maddox Ranch House

Maddox Chicken Fried Steak with all the fixins’. Photo by Adam Finkle.

During WWII, Irvin Maddox opened a seven-stool lunch counter on Main Street in Brigham City. As a welder, he fashioned a stove plate from an old coal oil burner, secured a used refrigerator and asked Wilma Kotter, who would eventually become Mrs. Maddox, to work as a hostess. A few years later, Maddox opened the Double “J” in Ogden. But he lived in Brigham and spied a bit of land in neighboring Perry, much closer to home, in what most folks thought of as “the middle of nowhere.” In 1949, he bought the land and built a log cabin on skids so it could be towed away if it didn’t pan out. It never moved, and three generations later, another Irvin Maddox (named after his grandfather) is at the helm of what has become a landmark Utah restaurant and Irvin the younger’s whole life. 

“After my father died (Steve, who ran the business after the original Maddox passed), I realized I was never going to find a better place to affect people in a positive way,” Maddox says. He threw himself into the family business he had inherited. 

And Maddox does indeed affect a lot of people. Each week the restaurant serves more than 15,000(!) customers. That’s right, 15 thousand. Some come to sit in the classic log cabin’s dining room or lunch counter, others pull up to the drive-in, still served by carhops, and others pick up a family meal to go on the way home. That loyalty speaks to the comfort the restaurant offers.

“We offer familiarity,” he says. “You know you’re going to have a great experience and that’s why we’ve been around for so long.” 

That familiarity is exactly what you think. Steaks and potatoes with all the fixin’s, famous fried chicken, housemade rolls served with honey butter and jelly. There’s even a seafood cocktail featuring crab with a “K.” (“That was my dad, he didn’t realize how kitschy fake seafood is but our customers won’t let me get rid of it,” Maddox says.) Don’t forget the pie and be sure to try the youngest Maddox’s own contribution to the third-generation menu, house-brewed birch root beer.  

If You Go…

Maddox Ranch House
1900 S. Highway 89, Perry, (435) 723-8545.

Open 11 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.
(Closed Sundays and Mondays)


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Review ‘Ain’t Too Proud’ at the Eccles

By Arts & Culture

At the moment, “The Temptations” strutted, dipped, rocked and swaggered onto the stage at the Eccles Theater, a collective gasp of wild anticipation rose from the audience. The night began, and what a night it promised to be. Ain’t Too Proud: The Life and Times of the Temptations opened Tuesday, Jan. 10, 2023, to a sold-out crowd. 

Punctuated by their now-classic repertoire of songs, the backstory of the Temptations spans their climb to fame from their hardscrabble days in industrial Detroit to the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame, and beyond.

The propulsive rhythm and fiery energy signaled a production, unlike other jukebox musicals of the decade. The show is a musical journey based on the memoirs of Otis Williams’ rendering of The Temptations’ history. The odyssey, often rife with drama, intrigue and betrayal, is a musical passage to Williams’ view of the complex history of the Temptations in a rapidly shifting social and political landscape.

Ain’t Too Proud, under the direction of Des McAnuff, and featuring Sergio Trujillo’s choreography that mixes trademark Temptations’ dance moves with rhythm and style, seamlessly weaves the music into Williams’ recollections. The music and movements span the growing cultural divide of the ’60s and give the audience a glimpse into The Temptations’ journey from their earliest days in Detroit as one of Barry Gordy’s most highly successful R&B groups. Under Gordy’s direction, with the addition of David Ruffin and largely with the talents of songwriter-producers Smokey Robinson and Norman Whitfield, the Temptations turned out a string of romantic hits, beginning with “The Way You Do the Things You Do”  and their signature “My Girl.”

Ain’t Too Proud is a feast of music and movement. Created by Obie Award-winning playwright Domonique Morriseau, the story moves through the major stages of Williams’ memoir—the gathering of the legends and their rapid rise to stardom; the challenges of keeping them together against adversaries both within and outside the group; and the final tragic deaths of each member of the original Temptations—except for Williams, himself. 

Motown birthed the Temptations and its patriarch Barry Gordy glories in their fame, even as he exercises authoritarian control over Motown’s stable of artists, underscored when he replaces Robinson with a hit-making, cross-over team of songwriters more closely aligned with Gordy’s quest for power and profits.

But Ain’t Too Proud is also the tale of the internal struggles the group faced. David Ruffin, the group’s lead singer, is an intense, passionate artist who degenerates into a world of drugs, leaving in shreds his relationship with Motown’s Tammi Terrell. Despite his prodigious talent, he’s told to leave the group.

Fame is Williams’ full-time mistress. And his wife Josephine languishes from his part-time commitment to her, leaving her to raise their son Otis LaMonte Williams alone.  When tragedy strikes the family with the accidental death of 23-year-old Lamont, Williams struggles to sing his mournful regret that on his way to stardom, he left his son behind.

Even as The Temptations’ success grows, Gordy’s obvious favoritism of the super-star Supremes irks Williams. Supremes, in stunning sequined costumes of the times, sweep onto the stage in a spirited and passionate reimagining of their stunning presence in the Motown oeuvre

Just as history breathes life into music, the music reflects the energy of the times.

And I would be remiss to not mention Robert Brill’s dramatic, mostly monochromatic projection designs.  Abstract images move across the stage’s backdrop, with the alternating scenes melding perfectly into the advancing story.  The black and white photographs of the civil rights movement, the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King and finally the war in Vietnam, perfectly reflected the shifting cultural and political dynamics of America.

With the growth of the civil rights movement and the rising tide against the war in Vietnam, the Temptations—as a group—defy Barry Gordy’s bar on “Black political” activism, including actively opposing segregation and reclaiming their protest song “War,” which Gordy earlier seizes from the Temptations’ playbook and gives to Edwin Shaw.

Drugs, sex and rhythm and blues take their toll, and with the ravages of time, each of the four Temptations falls into illness, suicide and despair.  The only living original Temptation is Otis Williams, of course. Ain’t Too Proud is a festival of music and story, exuberance and tragedy writ large.  As the performance ends,  the music reaches a crescendo.  The Temptations swing into the psychedelic funk of “Papa is a Rolling Stone.” Joined by the ensemble cast, the beat’s power and the performers’ exuberance infuse the theatergoers with irrepressible joy. The audience rises in a standing ovation, applauding to the beat of the music, while muscle memory toe-taps out the finale in a psychedelic rhythm. 

Ain’t Too Proud: The Life and Times of the Temptations continues through January 15. Leave your winter boots and umbrella at home; Eccles theater is the hottest scene in town.


See Linda Hunt’s preview of Ain’t Too Proud here and all of her theater coverage here.

Behind the Beehive

By Community, Utah Lore

They’re everywhere—on the state highway signs, on the Capitol building, on the state flag, on manhole covers. Dozens of Salt Lake businesses begin their name with “beehive” — Beehive Bail Bonds, Beehive Auto, Beehive Elementary School, Beehive Credit Union, Beehive Title Insurance, Beehive Glass. Insurance companies, scooter sellers, clothing stores—all use the logo of a beehive, which is actually a coiled straw dome, called a skep, that hasn’t been used to house bees for over 100 years. There’s a beehive fountain in front of the Brigham Young Academy; the Beehive Society is the oldest honor society on the University of Utah campus and each summer Salt Lake magazine rolls out accolades in our Best of the Beehive issue.

No wonder visitors ask, “Where are the bees?” But I’m surprised how few native and resident Utahns even know the reason Utah is called “The Beehive State.” It has nothing to do with the proliferation of Apis mellifera, the scientific name for the western honey bee. The state ranks 24th in the U.S. for honey production.

Ancient symbolism

“The beehive has been used as a symbol for thousands of years,” according to historian Mark Staker, an expert on early Mormon anthropology at the LDS Church’s Family History Center. “The Bible refers to the ‘Promised Land’ as ‘the land of milk and honey.'” Of course, there were no honeybees in the ancient Middle East. “The European monks whose scriptoria kept The Bible in print before Gutenberg came along had no way of knowing that Biblical honey was most likely date honey and had nothing to do with bees. So, they incorporated bees and the cooperative life of the hive into early Christian symbolism,” explains Staker. Freemasons also used the bee and beehive as symbols of cooperative work, and the images are found in early American art and literature. “Many of the founding fathers were Masons, and America had become the new ‘promised land’ of opportunity,” says Staker. Many early Mormons were also Masons, including one particularly important Mason/Mormon: Joseph Smith. The Book of Ether in The Book of Mormon (books within books) tells the story of the Jaredites, a tribe that lived at the time of the Tower of Babel in the Old Testament. According to The Book of Mormon, the Jaredites made a miraculous 344-day voyage across the ocean to North America. They brought with them the “Deseret” which means “honey bee” in the nomenclature of The Book of Mormon

The State of the Hive

When Brigham Young and the Latter-day Saints arrived in Salt Lake Valley in July of 1847, Young chose the name “Deseret” for their new home, and the beehive as its emblem, symbolizing the kind of cooperative work that would be required to make the desert bloom. Images of bees and beehives—the traditional skep, five of which the Mormons brought with them on their trek—were used in much early church construction embellishments. Notably, on the interior and exterior of the Salt Lake Temple and, famously, on Brigham Young’s own Beehive House, which is crowned with a carved bee skep. Newell posts, doorknobs, windows and all bore the emblem of a beehive. Mark Twain commented on the Utah beehive symbol in his book on the 1860s American West, Roughing It, saying, “The Mormon crest was easy. And it was simple, unostentatious and it fitted like a glove. It was a representation of a Golden Beehive, with all the bees at work.” On October 11, 1881, an article in The Deseret News explained the symbolism: “The hive and honey bees form our communal coat of arms. … It is a significant representation of the industry, harmony, order and frugality of the people, and of the sweet results of their toil, union and intelligent cooperation.”

Of course, you can’t go too far with the etymological comparison or you raise awkward implications. What about drones? What about the queen bee? “The meaning of the beehive shifted a little as Brigham Young’s Deseret became a territory, then a state,” says Staker. “It lost some of its religious connections but the community connotations continued.” The beehive still serves as the logo of some Church-related organizations, but it’s come to symbolize the whole state of Utah. When Utah territory became a state in 1896, it retained the beehive symbol in its state seal and on its flag. The state adopted the beehive as its official symbol in 1959, designated the honeybee as the state insect, and even named the “beehive cluster” as the state’s astronomical symbol. Utah is known as “The Beehive State,” and businesses continue to name themselves after the antique skep, many of them without knowing what a bee skep is, or where the bees are. But even without them knowing it, the beehive has become an everyday icon that links present-day Utahns—Mormons and non-Mormons—with their pioneer past.

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Comfort Food Favorite: Vertical Diner

By Eat & Drink

Comfort, it turns out, is not relative, at least with food. No matter the cuisine or the culture that any given dish springs from, it will contain one neurological common denominator, buried in the primal place in our brains: Nostalgia

In search of Salt Lake’s best comfort food, we asked six restaurateurs and chefs what comfort food means to them. Up next, Vertical Diner shares their plant-based philosophy to eating well.

The Person: Ian Brandt
The Restaurant: Vertical Diner

Vertical Diner owner Ian Brandt with general manager Taylor Duffus and chef Carmen Ruiz. Photo by Adam Finkle.

Ian Brandt was not always
a vegan. He grew up eating the quintessential American meat and potatoes fare and classic family dishes. “Growing up, lasagna—that was always a great comfort food item,” Brandt remembers. “I always wanted to be Italian. Growing up in Philadelphia, surrounded by Italians, it always seemed like the Italians had the most food.”

“Anything that you grew up eating with your family that takes you back to your roots—that is how I define comfort,” says Brandt. The foods that become the most comforting to us as adults are often attached to warm memories of childhood. These are the foods that help us feel safe. But, after going vegan at 22 years old, Brandt discovered many of his go-to comfort foods were no longer available to him. “I eventually found ways to still eat them by making them vegan,” he says. “And over the years, I came up with other vegan items that I enjoyed.“

Now, as the owner of Vertical Diner, an all-plant-based restaurant, he faces a similar quandary. How do you deliver the homey experience of diner cuisine to people who might not be familiar with vegan dishes? “That’s the biggest challenge we have—making guests comfortable,” Brandt says. “So we train our servers to curate the meal that way.” They recommend dishes that are familiar diner favorites with a vegan spin: vegan buffalo chicken wings, nachos, mashed potatoes and vegan gravy, and vegan macaroni and cheese. Other comforting options require no such spin as they can easily be vegan on their own: fried Brussels sprouts, hand-cut french fries, and blueberry pancakes. The resulting message, “We’re an American diner that just happens to be plant-based and vegan,” says Brandt. 

Vertical Diner’s American Diner Plate is a vegan version of good old-fashioned, simply delicious, straightforward diner food. It’s your choice of hand-cut french fries or mashed potatoes with Tender Tigers (plant-based chicken tenders), all smothered in gravy. Wash it down with a damn fine cup of coffee or, better yet, a strong chai. “We make our own house chai,” says Brandt. “That warming spice is comforting, and you can get it hot in the wintertime or iced in the summer.” And, if you’re really peckish, try the carrot cake for dessert.

Brandt not only strives to make diners comfortable with the food but with the atmosphere of Vertical Diner as well. “I think the nature of the diner encompasses the comfort of eating out. Nowadays, it’s hard to find mid-range priced restaurants that also have table service,” says Brandt, but they’re not going to hurry anyone out the door. “An American diner is a place to hang out with family and friends, drink coffee and linger for an hour or two. We try not to rush people. We give them space to enjoy the company. The nature of the diner is comfort in and of itself.” 

If You Go…
Vertical Diner 
234 W. 900 South, SLC, (801) 484-8378
Open every day, 9 a.m.-10 p.m. (breakfast served all day)


OR-Vendors

Outdoor Retailer Returns Searching for Reinvention

By Adventures, Outdoors

The snowfall rate at the base of Brighton’s Millicent Lift increased dramatically. Vendors scrambled to lash down branded E-Z up tents as the wind’s rising howl threatened to send expansive displays of gear skyward. Outdoor Retailer (OR) had returned to Salt Lake City after a five-year stint outside of the beehive state, kicking off with the show’s on-snow portion, The Summit, during a classic Utah prefrontal gale. But the harsh conditions didn’t seem to dampen the enthusiasm of those participating in the experiential activities.

Outdoor Retailer left Utah in the wake of ongoing efforts by state officials to snatch up public lands, frequently for the benefit of extractive industries. In returning, OR pointed to Salt Lake Mayor Erin Mendenhall’s commitment to renewable energy and public land conservation, but a number of heavy hitters in the industry—including Patagonia, REI and The North Face—weren’t on board with the return to Utah, and thus abstained from participating. Their absence was profoundly felt in the vendor village, which while enthusiastically populated, featured a paltry smattering of brands compared to what used to be a gargantuan maze of company tents.

Here, at the foot of the Brighton’s slopes you could sense the OR Show’s yearning for reinvention even as it returns to familiar territory. Instead of buyers and media lining up to test the latest and greatest from competing brands, attendees signed up for myriad on-snow clinics for everything from introductory ski touring and split boarding instruction, to ski mountaineering skills, to hut trip preparedness tips to emergency winter snow shelter construction. In all honesty, the commercial aspect seemed secondary at best, as the on-mountain experiences dominated attention.

Learning to kick turn courtesy of Inspired Summit Adventures.

Local guide service Inspired Summit Adventures had more than 30 guides on hand to lead activities. I tagged along while mountain guide Joey Manship taught a group of six the intricacies of kick turns while ascending a steep snowy slope. Another guide, Joel O’Rourke taught an attendee how to self-arrest while descending. Staff from the Utah Avalanche Center demoed how to dig snow pits and famed forecaster Craig Gordon provided a live avalanche forecast for all in attendance. It was a phantasmagoria of backcountry skiing and snowboarding activities with few hints of consumerism outside of the occasional demoed ski gear and the Breeo smokeless campfire setup, which proved very popular owing to the copious bratwurst their staff were cooking up for anyone with an appetite.

The Breeo Tent proved very popular among hungry attendees.

That OR is redefining its identity makes sense. Between Covid disruptions, the proliferation of internet sales and new distribution models, the outdoor industry is undergoing rapid change. Gone are the days of all the buyers getting together in a single location to place an order for the upcoming year with all the manufacturers. To stay relevant the show must evolve. “It’s nice to see OR back in Salt Lake City, but the show has changed so much during Covid, I’m curious to see what it becomes,” says Chad Brackelsberg, executive director of the Utah Avalanche Center.

Utah Avalanche Center staff giving the lowdown on conditions.

How did others in attendance feel about the show’s return to Salt Lake City? Most just seemed happy it was no longer in Denver, which as anyone who’s visited knows is at times a seemingly unfathomable distance from the mountains. “It’s coming home to Salt Lake City, which is the only real city in the middle of the mountains,” O’Rourke says. Others were hopeful the show could prove beneficial in the long run.  “Although things maybe haven’t changed as much in Utah, the show is an important part of the community, and there’s lots of outdoors folks who could help bring some positive change to the industry and the state,” Manship says.

OR is back in the same old location, but with a new look and feel. Regardless of the machinations that brought the show back or the conflicted feelings some rightfully hold about its return, nobody on snow seemed too preoccupied by much other than playing outside. I suppose no matter what else is going on, it usually feels good to be back home.

Note: The Author has previously worked as a guide for Inspired Summit Adventures and is an educator for the Utah Avalanche Center.  


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What to Expect from the 2023 Utah Legislative Session

By City Watch

“During a legislative session there might be more than 1,000 bills introduced, and they’re constantly changing as they get amended,” says Deborah Case with the League of Women Voters of Utah’s Legislative Action Corps, which tracks bills during the Utah Legislative Session. “It can be really overwhelming to follow all of these bills and different topics.” 

It can feel overwhelming for Utah voters as well, who might not know where to find information on legislation that impacts them. That’s where groups like The League of Women Voters of Utah (LWVU) come in. The league provides voters with tools to track bills that concern the league’s primary issues. Issues such as ensuring voting rights and equal rights—especially with recent pushes for election reforms and limiting access to reproductive health care. From there, “We choose whether to support, oppose or watch each bill item in that tracker,” explains Case. “The league is not a reactionary group. We’re not partisan. These are our positions, and we have stuck with them for years.” For 103 years, to be exact. 

LWVU also believes informed individuals can make a difference in local politics. “We let people know that a bill is being considered and encourage them to call up their legislators,” says Case. “As a local lawmaker, when your constituents call and tell you what they want, you listen.” After all, often the biggest threat to a functioning democracy is not, generally, one bill or another, it’s voter apathy. “There’s a lot of disillusionment. That is a major issue that we have to fight,” says Case, “But people’s votes and voices matter. If they take the time to get active, it goes much further than they think. We have changed things, even at the 11th hour.” Case recalls a controversial 2022 school voucher bill that looked sure to pass before their Legislative Action Corps got the word out and helped change the vote. “Those are the moments that make us proud and keep us going.” 

In the spirit of being informed and getting active (but not getting overwhelmed), here are some of the issues Utahns could see come up in the 2023 Utah General Legislative Session.

2023 Utah Legislative Session
Photo courtesy of Utah Reps

Issues in the 2023 Legislative Session That Aren’t Going Away

Utah is short on two very important things—affordable housing and water. Researchers with the University of Utah’s Kem C. Gardner Policy Institute presented data to lawmakers that shows 76% of Utahns have been priced out of the housing market, unable to afford a median-priced home. The research also concluded that the affordability crisis is worsening. This raises quite a few red flags and could mean the legislature decides to invest more money in affordable housing projects this session. 

As far as water is concerned, Governor Spencer Cox issued a proclamation, putting in place a moratorium on any new water appropriations in the Bear, Jordan and Weber river basins in an effort to help get more water into the Great Salt Lake. The lake has reached record-low water levels and poses an existential threat to our way of life. The Legislature’s Water Development Commission supported that proclamation after seeing a presentation from Utah’s State Engineer on the precarious situation of Utah’s groundwater. As such, the Legislature will likely take on water resource management this session. There’s a proposed bill that would end the practice of paying for water projects with property taxes. That means Utah residents and industries would pay higher water rates in hopes they will use less of it. Currently, Utah has some of the nation’s lowest-cost water rates but some of the highest per capita water use. At the very least, expect some money appropriated for more groundwater studies. 

Senate leadership has also named more tax cuts and increasing teacher salaries as two of their top legislative priorities. The tax cut might look similar to last year’s income tax cut from 4.95% to 4.85%. Education funding is always a hot-button issue, partially thanks to Utah’s comparatively low per-pupil spending. The Utah Education Association is asking the Legislature for a 6.5% increase (an estimated $292 million) on the Weighted Pupil Unit (how Utah measures education funding) as well as $24.5 million to expand optional full-day kindergarten, which was only partially funded the last session.

Addressing the Mental Health Crisis in Utah

Utah has one of the highest reporting rates of mental illness among adults in the country, and many Utahns with mental illness are not getting treatment, at least in part, because Utah has a shortage of mental health professionals. There are a few ways the Legislature could address Utah’s mental health crisis, if it chooses to do so, from the increasing availability of online resources to mental health licensing reform. They could also expand Medicaid mental health coverage, and one bill is already trying to do so. The bill extends the duration of postpartum coverage to address pregnancy-related deaths (the majority of which happen postpartum) and pregnancy-related deaths from overdose or suicide.  

Mental health is not just an adult problem. Suicide is the leading cause of death for Utahns ages 15-24. Student wellness is a top legislative priority for groups like the Utah System of Higher Education, which is asking for $2,025,000 in funding for student mental health services.  Governor Cox is making youth mental health issues a priority as well—particularly as it relates to social media—and says he is working with legislators on developing policy recommendations. 

Some lawmakers are once again trying to restrict medical treatment of gender dysphoria in minors. One bill addresses hormone-based treatments, and, under another, minors could not receive any surgical treatments for gender dysphoria. However, those same procedures would still be available to minors who do not have gender dysphoria.

What’s Making a Return in the 2023 Session?

Bills that were dead on arrival during the last session could reappear. Both Utah’s air quality and lack of convenient mass transit could be addressed should a 2022 bill make a comeback. It proposes free fares for mass transit year-round. A resolution to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment tends to pop up every few years only to be summarily killed. On the other hand, ranked-choice voting (RCV) seemed popular in the 23 Utah cities that are part of a pilot program using RCV in municipal elections. A bill to expand the RCV program statewide never even got a hearing last session, but it could come back from the dead and have a longer life this session.  


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Dawn Rises Over a New Sundance Film Festival

By Sundance

It’s actually happening this time. Seriously. The Sundance Film Festival is returning for 2023 as an in-person event after two years of entirely virtual screenings. From January 19-29, the annual spectacle will retake its historic place in Park City, inundating the community with a reflected, star-studded glow that has been notably absent since January 2020. Even with audiences returning to theaters this year, Sundance is hybridizing the festival and making programming available virtually to ticket holders. It’s a new world for event logistics and expectations, and the cultural winds are shifting as swiftly as ever over the independent entertainment landscape. The Sundance Film Festival needs to find its place in the new era.

The resurgent pandemic scuttled plans for Sundance’s return the past couple of years, but the lessons learned may have forever altered the way we fest. Sundance reported during the pandemic three times as many people viewed films online during the 2021 virtual edition—600,000 audience views—as saw them during the 2020 physical edition. The figure represents a welcome democratization of the independent film viewing experience, as in recent years the festival had become ever-more exclusive. The fame-adjacent, stargazing, an influencer-obsessed culture that has sullied so many cultural pillars—we see you Coachella and Burning Man—lent the purportedly inclusive values of independent film a distinctly insular feel. Needless to say, enjoying the art on its own terms away from the spectacle had its merits.

So, the festival can be experienced in whatever context one prefers, amid the live spectacle or from home, refocusing an emphasis on the programming. Here too, Sundance must chart a new direction as to what stories they are trying to tell and which voices they want to amplify. Part of that direction includes the pausing of this year’s New Frontier programming, which has typically served as an incubator for more experimental forms of art and has recently incorporated virtual reality projects. Further at stake is Sundance’s reputation as a tastemaker, following a debacle in 2022 surrounding the film, Jihadi Rehab.

 The documentary made by a white woman, Meg Smaker, about four Muslim men—accused terrorists and former Guantanamo detainees who were never charged—incarcerated in a Saudi Arabian rehabilitation facility, was the source of intense debate regarding representation, consent and who has a license to tell which stories. After intense criticism—some very valid, some not in good faith—Sundance issued an apology that was viewed by some as too late and by others as reactionary. South by Southwest subsequently rescinded its own invitation to the film, showing just how much influence Sundance wields in the zeitgeist.

2023 is a year of reinvention for Sundance. The crowds are back and with renewed scrutiny of what the festival aims to be. How this year’s festival plays out will set the tone for how the institution will impact the culture surrounding independent film for years to come.  

How to Attend the 2023 Sundance Film Festival

In-person and online ticket packages can be purchased on the Sundance website. Numerous In-person festival packages are available with prices ranging from $200-$750, and single film tickets will be on sale starting January 12 for $25 each. Online festival tickets, $20 per film or $300 for the Festival Package are also available. festival.sundance.org ­­