Our Town

I grew up in Farmington, UT, which had around 12,000 residents at the time. I would estimate that 90% were LDS and 95% where white. So in a lot of ways, it was a pretty homogenous place. But in other ways it seemed quite diverse. The economic make-up of my particular neighborhood was mixed. A couple streets east of our house was a 20,000 square foot mansion with a heated driveway, indoor pool, indoor basketball court, covered parking for 16 cars, and an observatory. Yet the area two streets to the west of us was populated by old homes in the 1000-2000 square foot range. Neighborhoods just don’t grow that way anymore, and I regret that.

Our house had a mere 100 yards between it and the undeveloped mountains behind us. My young summers were filled with trips to the Farmington river—only a half mile away—and roaming and camping in the hills above with buddies, dogs, and motorcycles. Drive through Farmington on I-85 now and you will see monstrously huge homes on the mountainside in the spot where we used to camp. There is a big rock jutting out from the hillside that we called “Cheese Rock.” We named it that to commemorate the special time our friend showed us the unholy substance that he was somehow able to consistently squeeze out of his nipple. Note, this particular friend was born in bawdy Centerville, so. It used to take us a good 15 or 20 minutes to four-wheel in our trucks up to that steep spot. Now you can drive right up there on a paved road that ends in the gaudy residences that have leveled the slope. Then again, I’m sure people lower on the hill said the same thing about my parents when they built a bigger home above their own homes 30 years ago, and so on.

Our neighborhood was nice enough, but back in the 80’s and 90’s, the really happening place to live was a development called Somerset, lying a couple miles to the north. I drove my wife through there recently and she was decidedly unimpressed, given the way we talk about it when reminiscing. Today all I see is a bunch of regular looking homes done in the not-so-beautiful 80s and 90s Utah architectural style. But back then, Somerset was where the wealthy blonde people lived. The dads drove flashy cars, the moms were pretty and actually wore make-up and fancy outfits when they showed up at junior’s school, and the kids had Reebok Pumps, go-carts, and Doberman Pincers. There was a community pool and tennis courts. Every community has those now, but that was a big deal back then. When I was around nine I remember seeing a tall, lithe high schooler from an affluent, very Dutch-looking family in Somerset cruising around town in his new red convertible Volkswagen Rabbit. I thought that boy was Ferris Buhler himself.


Hello der jugen, does you vant ride vis dis Cherman car Volksvaagen, undt go to mine Papa’s house ver vee talk der Vittgenstein undt Eurythmics undt vee build bridge to last thousand years, ya?

To the south of us lay downtown Farmington. I drive through downtown now and marvel at what a beautiful, quaint, historic, almost idyllic little place it is. Both sides of Mainstreet are flanked by giant Elm trees (I actually have no idea what type of trees they are), and there are 100+ year-old homes, a church, and other buildings made of distinctive looking rock and other antiquated materials. It’s the type of place your fancy wife would say is “darling” to her fancy friend. But as a kid, downtown had a darker visage. Those little old houses were the dwellings of mean, tough, lower-middle class kids who had rat tails, bad teeth, Def Leopard shirts, and cut-off Levi shorts. They played pickup football on pavement with their shirts off. I used to see them when driving back home from the library or grocery store with my mom, and I half expected to spy a couple Viking ships parked nearby. Or for Ralph Macchio and Matt Dillon to materialize, mistake me for a Somerset Social and throw a few Molotov Cocktails at the suburban. This area was little more than a crow-flying mile from my house, but it seemed like a different country. I was a bit scared of those kids. The bigger ones, at least.


Two of us are cool, one we’ve never seen before or since, one is super lame, one has a smooth dad and grandpa but will go on to star in Disney hockey comedies, one looks more like a soc than any soc does, and the other guy is our 47 yr old bro who looks after us since ma passed away.

The going concern in Farmington was the amusement park Lagoon (click here to see an ad for Lagoon’s new UVSC-Themed Brothel). Lagoon is like a small Disneyland and it required an army of young, low-wage workers to keep things humming. To this end, Lagoon would set up a booth at Farmington Jr. High to recruit ninth graders on the last day of school. I remember there being a stigma associated with working at Lagoon. Not sure why, but it wasn’t a cool thing to do. Ryan worked at Lagoon. Somerset kids definitely didn’t work there. I didn’t care about the stigma; I just couldn’t accept the low pay. But there certainly wasn’t any stigma associated with going to Lagoon as a paying customer. The kids who worked hard and the kids with rich parents had season passes. As I remember, my siblings and I weren’t allowed to buy season passes, even with our own money, because our square parents didn’t want us running free in the land of endless pleasures all day with no supervision. Probably a good thing, because a teenager’s intent in going to Lagoon was to meet someone of the opposite sex, cruise on the slow, sultry SkyRide with them, and eventually go to the back fence to make out. Lagoon was magical.

All in all, not a bad place to grow up.

Tell us, friend, where did you grow up?

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41 Responses to Our Town

  1. Ryan says:

    Also, we weren’t allowed to buy season passes because why would we need season passes during the summer when we were required to work in the backyard shoveling dirt for eight hours each day?

  2. Ryan says:

    By the way, thank you for linking to that ad, one of the most amazing instances of commercial hyperbole I’ve ever had the pleasure to have witnessed. Why Lagoon wants to market itself on the suggestion that it is filled with Coke-addicted strippers is beyond me, but I’m just a former long-time, loyal drink-pouring employee, so what do I know.

  3. Jon says:

    As a born and raised Farmington Southsider, in our mind you guys were high society. Case in point, I believe Davis was one of the first to rock the “Lorenzo” (leather braided belt and Girbaud Jeans combo) in Jr High. Of course, we rarely made the journey to where the better half lived, since the government cheese and powdered milk could not sustain us on our refurbished Huffy rip offs. No Mongooses in our neighborhood. Plus, it would require a shortcut through Woodland Park. A place akin to the black forests of Germany, except more devil worshipers. Despite its passive caste system, I still loved growing up in Farmington

  4. Davis says:

    We drove through Somerset last week when we were in Utah. I had definitely remembered something it differently. But man, how I wanted to live there.

    Jon, I’m sure there’s a Southside blog out there where you’d be more comfortable.

  5. Christian says:

    Isn’t that the strangest ad?

    Jon, this following sentence was in my original draft but was edited out. I’m being serious:

    “So Lagoon was staffed mostly by downtowners and ‘Southie’ residents (South Farmington. Credit for Southie goes to Jon Wood)”

    lol about the Lorenzo and Woodland Park.

    Davis, I know, right? It was just different back then.

  6. Davis says:

    I thought that was an ad for a salon that does bad blond highlights.

  7. Davis says:

    Btw, who is Emilio Estevez’ grandpa?

  8. Christian says:

    Uhh, in my haste I credited Emilio with being a scion of the esteemed Douglas heritage, rather than the lowly Sheen line. My bad.

  9. Macy Bell says:

    yeah, I wasn’t going to be caught dead working at Lagoon. Although I don’t think my mom would have let me anyway. Amby was on Lagoon on Ice for a summer…..which was kind of the cool place to be at Lagoon..I am pretty sure.

    Chris, you and I both know that Bowman’s was where it was at.

  10. Christian says:

    Holy cow, that’s right! I was too cool and high-waged to work at Lagoon when I was 14, but ended up as a 17 year old bagger at Bowman’s for 4 months, making below minimum wage (don’t ask me how that’s legal. I even challenged Bowman’s prez on it in an all-hands meeting and he gave some convoluted answer about high overhead and the value of the Yen, blah blah blah.)

    Thanks for reminding everyone about that, Macy.

  11. maweesa says:

    i guess my parents didn’t care enough about me as a teen so i was allowed to have a season pass for all three years of junior high. i can tell you, the ONE cool job to have a lagoon was a life guard… those guys were so sexy!

  12. Andrea W. says:

    It did seem that inside Lagoon had it’s own sort of class system and life guards and performers were definitely above the rest. I just remember the whole pick-up, make-out with total strangers in the funhouse scene – EWWWW. (just to clarify, I remember hearing about it, not participating in it – although my friend and I did meet some cute boys once on the sky ride and one of them won an ash tray for me) My kids will not be hanging at Lagoon. Great post, Christian, wow, we really had such a great childhood.

  13. Ben Pratt says:

    I’ve never tried to get to Farmington on I-85. I’ll let you know how it goes.

    Also, Cheese Rock. Ew.

    As a child, I lived for a while on what was then Howard AFB in Panamá. Right here, in fact. Note that my backyard had ITS OWN JUNGLE. I used to go in there all the time, by myself. There was actually a concrete ditch that came down through there right behind my house, so I could follow that up the hill. See that driveway just a block behind my house? One of my friends lived up there (perhaps his dad was a higher-ranking officer than my dad). One time he challenged me to see who could hold their head under water in his kiddie pool the longest. I kicked his trash.

    One time in the jungle I found just the shell of an armadillo (note the implied presence of carnivores), and though I brought it home to show the stinky thing to my parents, somehow it disappeared after a while.

    Another time I recall there being a bunch of cars backed up on the street, which was unusual. Walking down the street I saw a sloth sloooooowly crossing the street. No seriously, it was really slow.

    To the north of my street you’ll notice an even bigger patch of jungle. One time I was exploring in there, and I ended up in a huge patch of gray, sticky mud. I brought home quite a bit of it on my shoes, which I’m sure pleased my mother a great deal.

    Coatamundis made regular appearances. I particularly recall a huge gathering of them at a birthday party I attended in a friend’s backyard.

    I could go on about the fathers & sons campout on an island in a lake, the trips to various amazing tropical beaches, and the sheer awesomeness of having a US Special Forces helicopter pilot for a dad. We moved to Arizona when I was seven years old, where I grew up and where my family still lives, but living as a kid in Panamá was amazing and unforgettable.

  14. Landon says:

    I think everyone could relate to this post in some way, for me everyone that lived on the other side of I-80 were of the somerset variety. they were so high class I didn’t even know any of them until we were forced to mingle in junior high. they all had 50 yard line tickets to Utah football games and traveled to bowl games, while i just watched them on TV. They were all members of the swimming and tennis club. At that point in my life I would have given up a lot to be a member of the tennis club with all its rights and privileges.

  15. Friend, “my town” was Upland, CA – and it was a nice place to grow up. But it’s not nearly as fun as the town my husband gets to claim for his first ten years of life. A place that’s basically in the O.C. Maybe you’ve heard of a little resort town in Southern California called…Barstow? As the town water tower reads, it’s the Crossroads of Opportunity. When his oldest brother started wearing Nike Cortezes and Raiders jerseys and hanging out with future gang members, his dad, who deeply loves the “desert” finally relented to his mom’s divorce threats and moved the family out of there! (to good ole Upland)

  16. Rebecca says:

    just the thought of whichever of your friends it was extracting some cheez-wiz-like substance out of his nipple is enough to make me want to puke.

  17. Squerite says:

    Rebecca-Lance squeezing cheese out of his nipple was definitely a nauseating sight to behold. A gloriously nauseating sight to behold. Lance was amazing in all respects. He got the most action with girls, he was the first one to complete any feat of bravery, he talked back to his parents the most, and he had a cool older brother. It was a privilege to live next to Lance.

    Chris- I always felt like I was a meeting point of two worlds in Farmington. Living on the lower bench of Compton bench gave me access to the seedy underbelly of the low-landers of main street and similar access to the upper crusts where the bishoprics came from. One night would be spent with friends who regularly burglarized peoples cars and committed other serious acts, other nights with priest quorum presidency who’d spend the evening throwing Norda’s cherries at passing cars in the night. And that pretty much sums up my adolescence. Years of mingling between two very different worlds, and never feeling like I fit in with either.

  18. Tanner says:

    Christian – You left out an important detail about Southie. The old VIP gas station. Even the Somerset bourgeoisie ventured into Southie to partake of the offerings of VIP’s drive up window. I, like you, came from parents that had little interest for such things as a “VIP run” (pronounced vip not V.I.P.). I only know about “VIP runs” because once I convinced a Somerset girl to lower her standards and hang out with me, a lowly Compton Bench boy.

    I made many glorious “VIP Runs” with that family. Potato logs, Stewart’s Key lime soda, Big League Chew. Life was definitely easier as a Somersetter.

    Now VIP is simply a Chevron Gas Station and much of the allure is gone. Which is too bad because it is the one place all of Farmington could hang out. A sort of safe zone for the Jets and the Sharks.

  19. Dallin says:

    When I came upon this blog this morning I was tickled with excitement to add my own perspective as an individual who spent years 0-14 in the neighbouring misperceived “retirement village” of non-commercialized Fruit Heights, where neither children nor teens were believed to live. Hence I had very few friends and spent those early years as a premature old man, so to speak. This early elderly-hood characterization is one which has stuck with me for many years to come, thanks to Christian himself. Fruit Heights was a disassociated village which wanted nothing to do with the riotous living of the over-commercialized lower west side Kaysvillians. After all, it had video stores with questionable films, and a 7-eleven which was deemed as the hangout for itinerants all the bad people of the community. Not to mention a bastion of societal ills including dirty magazines and cheap beer. I was NOT allowed to go to 7-eleven.
    And though Fruit Heights shared a border with the illustrious Somorset development, there was a distinct geographical divide of dense forest which was believed to be inhabited by a pack of ravenous wolves and littered with land mines and patrolled by Secret Somerset (SS) Agents, who for the sanctity of their high and mighty lifestyle would at all costs prevent ANY integration with adjoining neighbourhoods. One of my best friends at the time actually lived right on the border of this “no mans zone,” and we would at times go exploring and camping down there. Mind you, we were always armed with our BB guns and .22’s, in case we came upon any of those feared SS Agents. More often all we saw was squirrels and the odd rabbit or muskrat. It was this geographical divide which I blame for causing all the misperceptions between Farmingtonians and Fruit Height-ites. If it were not for this Berlin Wall of sorts, we would have been more associated with our friends to the south.
    Life became distinctly different after age 14. We moved to Layton for two years, while we were building my grandparents home in that aforesaid community of Kaysville. This stage of life threw me into a complete spin, and I didn’t know where I was or how I could possibly fit into society anymore. But, this became the stage where social misperceptions and stereotypes were slowly eroded and eventually completely tossed-out. Before long I had begun to actually associate with one of the infamous Somerset clan, and he had become one of my closest friends. No Christian, his name is not Hans or Jurgenn or Franz. Yes, we’re speaking of Rick Weinert. When I was invited into Rick’s neighbourhood for the first time, I was surprised to see there was no guard box at the entrance of Somerset like a “Checkpoint Charlie”.
    Now back to my social life being thrown into a total spin and disarray. One of the most memorable events of my adolescence was when I was just settling into live in Kaysville. I distinctly remember one evening answering the door to a mob of Farmingtonians who had assembled on the front porch. The ringleader of which was this scrawny but tall adolescent dressed in ragged green doctor’s scrubs and an orange life preserver vest. I was somewhat surprised to find out later on that this boy was actually the son of the Mayor of Farmington. The other members of this innocent mob were a mix of intellectuals, skaters, and children of well-to-do Farmington families. I certainly owe it to these guys for coming to my doorstep that evening and breaking down my long held stereotypes and misconceptions. More importantly I am grateful that I can still count these guys as my most trusted and beloved friends.
    P.S. I too was not allowed to have a season pass to Lagoon. I had to settle for some second-class summer fun with a season pass to Cherry Hill every summer.

  20. maweesa says:

    how did all of you people not have summer passes to lagoon?? what did you do all summer in junior high? also, VIP was the BEST… i still go to the window for fountain drink cherry cokes.. YUM.

  21. Shannon says:

    Just to clear the air, I dwelled in Somerset my entire childhood and was never allowed to have a Lagoon Pass or a Cherry Hill pass. And we got a lot of grief for living there….but I must admit it was a great place to grow up.
    Great post.

  22. Braden Bell says:

    I cannot believe the how nostalgic I’ve felt reading this! And I’ve laughed so hard at everyone’s perceptions and recollections.

    So, when I was a kid, VIP had 19 cent soft serve ice cream that you served yourself. You could literally grab a fountain drink cup and fill it with as much ice cream as you wanted–however high it could be.

    Kook, when I was an early teen, working at Lagoon was actually kind of cool–there was something about that which had a fair amount cachet. Not only did mom and dad not allow me to consider it, the screening committe would not have allowed them to consider my app.

    For me, Lagoon is inextricably linked with Stake Lagoon Day.

  23. Christian says:

    Man, I’ve got to say that reading everyone’s take on their hometowns has made this the funnest time I’ve had on this blog. It’s so interesting to how everyone else thought of the different parts of their towns.

    Maweesa, you’re absolutely right. The lifeguards were a different story. The older Kim (last name redacted), the Marilyn Monroe of Compton Bench was a lifeguard there. We went a lot that summer. To answer your question about not being able to have season passes, you must be unaware that the highest predictor for teenage pregnancy in Davis County is a Lagoon Season Pass.

    Andrea, you were a major square, just like your mom.

    Ben, earth to Ben, you’re dad was a Special Forces pilot and you haven’t told me this WHY?? Are you not aware of my Navy SEAL affiliation? I’m glad you posted that google earth link, it was fun to see. What an awesome place to grow up. I like coatamundis.

    Landon, I happen to know that a few of those Country Club/North Sugar House/Harvard-Yale folks read this blog (including one of my co-bloggers) and I call on them to do the right thing and extend an apology to you and your family. I ask the Somerseters to do the same for the rest of us.

    Danica, you had me laughing so hard. We lived in Temecula (not much better) for a year and drove through Barstow a few times and I remember thinking it right up there with Evanston, WY, and Libya as the most depressing places on Earth (no offense Zach!). And their slogan is very literally true. It’s the place you have to cross through on drive from one opportunity to the next. Thanks for reminding me of Barstow.

    Reba, don’t come in here with your 20/20 hindsight. You can’t judge the situation because you weren’t there. We did what we had to do and it felt right at the time. Lance was born with a talent, and he made the brave decision not to bury it.

    Squewority, you’re right. That ol’ Lance had it made. Buff gymnast who could do flips on demand, fearless, a year older, buff older brother (always wanted one of those). Him moving into Compton Bench was definitely a game changer. Like Palin. So funny about you being between those 2 worlds. Funny but true.

    Tanner, thank you for bringing up VIP. I didn’t think my readers’ attention spans could handle another page, but VIP really deserves it’s own place in Farmington history. I just remembered that you spent a couple years in Southie waiting for your house to be built. I’m glad you made it out ok. And you needed the training to know how to deal with all the 250 pound meatheads with ADHD in the 10th ward. That was a crazy crew, man. We soft Compton Benchers wouldn’t have survived 10 minutes at a 10th ward priest camp out.

    Dallin, 1. It was an orange hunting vest, not a life preserver, although I could have made a life preserver cool too. 2. If you hadn’t have spit on that car in front of Dust and Cam, we would have passed as ships in the night and my life would have felt the loss. 3. We were a really weird hodge podge group of dudes, weren’t we? I like that. Like we were the Justice League, each with our different power (although I can think of a couple who didn’t seem to have any powers).

    Shannon, apology accepted. It WAS a great place to grow up. All this hostility is simply envy masquerading as plebeian idealism. Any one of us would have traded places with you in a second. I love Cherry Hill. Took my son there last year and he loved it. It was cool and weird to take my kid there for the first time.

    Braden, 19 cent ice cream? Did you and your buddy Erastus sell the ice cream for a swell profit to the Chinese workers building the Union Pacific Line?

    Not sure I can buy that Lagoon was a cool place to work at back then either. Yours’ and Andrea’s credibility took quite a blow when you told me, with straight faces, that when you guys were in high school, the popular kids were the ones who did Theater and Show Choir (which, coincidentally, you both did. Actually Ryan did Show Choir too. I remember him “Puttin’ on the Ritz”).

  24. Troy says:

    Thank you Maweesa for clarifying the caveat to the Lagoon-worker stigma. Lifeguards at Lagoon were hot. I interviewed for the coveted position. They set up an “interview day” at FJH. My mom took me there and there were hundreds of kids. They had huge lines for different departments. I scanned the categories: “Food Service” hmm, flipping burgers, no thanks. “Rides” nope, that’s for foreign exchange students. “Admissions” stamping hands all day–negatory. “Lifeguard” oooh…thoughts of getting bronzed…wearing Oakleys…having a whistle…meeting hot lifeguard chicks…listening to Power 99 FM all day over the loudspeakers…I got in line. When it was finally my turn, I sat down in front of this older kid and he had the worst acne I’d ever seen up to that point in my life. I think it was the mixture of the shock and the growing feeling that I had made a huge mistake in even being there. I blew the interview. I didn’t even mention my Lifesaving merit badge or the fact that my grandma had a swimming pool (that combo would have been a deal sealer). Whew, this feels really good getting this off my chest. I’ve kept it on the low down because the only thing worse than working at Lagoon is being an applicant reject. Anyways I didn’t make the cuts. The zitmonger kept trying to talk me into another category “there are a lot of openings left in foods” he repeated, but I wasn’t about to budge. The stalemate forced me to walk out of FJH unemployed. Anyway I ended up marrying a hot Lagoon-a-Beach lifeguard so cha-ching!! Redemption.

  25. Christian says:

    “Rides” nope, that’s for foreign exchange students.”


  26. Troy says:

    A little Fruit Heights perspective. We lived just north of Cherry Hill so our border towns were Hess Farms (there’s a Farmington borough we haven’t explored on here yet) and Somerset but both were pretty inaccessible because of I-15 and Kaysville Main Street. So we were pretty isolated. We had great access to Cherry Hill though, and we biked and roller bladed there almost daily. We also were within a stones throw of the Hwy 89 Motel. It had a soda machine out front and the Motel Front Desk sold a few candy bars that were less than Cherry Hill. Maybe our parents felt bad about our isolation but we were allowed Lagoon Season Passes. I did 2 wonderful seasons.

    Fruit Heights was technically a Kaysvillian annex, but we were schooled in Farmington. This paradox gave me a unique exposure to both worlds at an early age.

    FH didn’t have a Rec dept so mom was forced to choose between Farmington and Kaysville registration. Early on she made the wrong choice. Lured by the double-wing offense “just like Davis runs!” I biked to the field across the street from Kaysville Drug every day for football practice. Finally it dawned on mom to put me on the team that actually had all my classmates. Most the kids on my Farmington team were Southies (not too many football players coming from Compton and Somerset–they were the tennis and basketball players).

    Having been fluent in both Kaysvillian and Farmingtonite, you’d think I would have cashed in socially during “Integration” (when Davis high school collided the FJH and KJH race) but by then there just wasn’t any “K” left in me. You can’t be both. By then I bled Husky green. The Knights were dead to me. Plus it would have been weird to go up to Tom Telford and say “hey remember me from Dedecker’s team when we were 9?!?” Talk about social suicide. Not to mention the Southies would have jumped me for treachery.

    Anyway, there are many other nuances of growing up in FH but that’s all for now.

  27. Ben Pratt says:

    Whoops! Sorry about that, Citizen SEAL Bell. Although I said Special Forces, I meant Special Operations. Detachment 1, 2nd Air Division, USAF. As he puts it, his job there was “to find people and hurt them.”

    BTW, look who’s talking (not talking?) about dads, Mr. My-Dad-Eats-Lunch-With-Herbert!

  28. StefStar says:

    Shannon’s little sister here.
    Ahem. I grew up in Somerset. And yes, I am better than you. But let me just tell you a little bit about the loneliness of being on top.

    I knew inherently that I was cool because I had a community pool. But sometimes I was confused because my cool friends wanted to work at Lagoon. So, in one of the most misguided decisions of my life, I signed on to work for the “Merchandise” department. Never heard of it? Well, we basically sold cheap crap to bratty kids. Maybe you saw me there–4′ nothing, heatstroked, looking like I wanted to kill you for patronizing a park that contributes so irresponsibly to teen pregnancy and petty thievery (from my toy cart, specifically). My work ethic died in its infancy, at age 14. No, it was not cool. Thus started my life of contradictions: Rich neighborhood/lame parent-inflicted curfew; cheerleader status/no date to prom; Somerset address/no shiny new car on my 16th birthday. It was confusing. I still don’t know if I was cool, ever, and someone from Somerset should not have to ever question that.

    PS I was so mystified by those Lagoon commercials when they came out. I’ve long been saying Lagoon should fire their marketing team, but I’m afraid they canned the old “It’s what fun is!” goons and replaced them with something far stranger.

  29. Macy Bell says:

    Yes, my mom was much more inclined to let us have Cherryhill passes….although I never had one. But, I am sure molly and ali did.

  30. Dallin says:

    Troy, I’m not sure who you even are. But none the less I can sympathize with you’re social dilema of KJH v. FJH. Just as I was carving my niche at FJH and getting to that point of becoming a personality of my own, the injustices of the Davis County School District prevailed, removing Fruit Heights from the boundaries of Farmington Junior High School and placing it within those of Kaysville. It was like going from the ritzy high-life of associations akin to Beverly Hills 90210 or the OC, and being forced to spend my 9th grade year with individuals who’s families found more satisfaction spending summer vactions in Evanston and Rock Springs.

    If you put two and two together you might begin to think that the top dogs of the Davis County School District must have lived in Somerset.

  31. Christian says:

    Sweet little Stefanie S. grew up and got SASSY!

    I loved your take. Made me laugh. And I’m going to offer three guesses as to why you didn’t have a prom date.

    1. You worked in Lagoon’s Merchandise dept.
    2. You grew up in Somerset, but you were also very nice. Those other Somerset girls could smell a weakness like that from a mile away.
    3. Your older sister had some nerdy friends, even if they were cheerleaders (one in particular I am thinking of here; name rhymes with Pacy Mew)

  32. Macy Bell says:

    I was definitely NOT nerdy. I may have been finishing up my “Elizabethan Era” , but I was definitely cool. Steph knows….she and I spent a magical week together in Lake Powell on top of a house boat dancing it up to Abba.

  33. Stef Star's real sister says:

    I’m afraid there has been some confusion with the Somerset Shannons. This is the Shannon referred to by sassy Stef S. and the non-nerdy friend of Pacy Mew.

    Macy, I must regrettably inform you that your status at Davis High was probably taken up a notch when we started hanging out, most likely due to my Somerset status. But there always was the Farmington/Kaysville riff between us that remained unresolvable. Remember how we used to joke about how our hometowns were better than each other’s because it was where the boys we liked resided? And I did use the argument that Farmington housed Lagoon where people from all over came for an unforgettable day filled with piping hot Churros, pre-pubescent boys wearing spandex shorts and cut-off t-shirts who rode up and down the SkyRide, and riding the Colossus over and over in hopes of scoring the front seat. It’s indisputable.

    I also saw something in Lagoon that some neglected to appreciate. I was a handstamper for a summer and marveled over the hot lifeguards as they walked through my gate. It was then and there that I decided I would do anything to become on. This came to fruition the very next year when I believe I peeked socially. Not only did I live in Somerset, but I was a Lagoon lifeguard. I’ll never forget arrogantly walking through the gates with my black foam visor, whistle around my neck and my lifeguard t-shirt tied in a knot, smirking at the handstampers (and merchandisers). Nevermind the fact that Lagoon didn’t want me back the next year after finding me asleep in a the lifeguard chair in Mooch’s Hooch.

    Like Stefanie, I too was confused by the Somerset Stigma. I got my first pair of Girbaud jeans from the clearance rack at Mervyns after they became wildly unpoplular, and I used to dream of getting a hold of a triangle “Guess” patch and glueing it to the pocket of my “Lee” jeans. And unlike my fellow Somersetians, I spent those fateful afternoons at FJH in the Lagoon recruitment lines rehearsing for why I would excell at using a stamp because I HAD to get a job. A job that would enable me to buy my own school clothes and hopelessly save for a car I would never have.

    With that said, my favorite part about living in Somerset was the close proximity to the bus station by Cherry Hill. It was a simple death-defying sprint across Highway 89 to catch the UTA to the Layton Hills mall. A feat I did nearly every day in the summer. Imagine that. A Somersetian actually hanging out in Layton by choice.

    Thanks for the nostalgia and for the reminder of my cool roots, even if it was only by association.

  34. Jami says:

    My perspective comes from the far north side of Kaysville (Mutton Hollow Township to be exact). To me, the social ranks of high school students stemmed from the junior high they attended. Fairfield Junior High graduates were basically destined for unpopularity. Farmington Jr. kids were popular because of the Somerset phenomenon, and Kaysville Jr kids had sheer numbers on their side. Poor Fairfield Jr kids that had to make that insurmountable climb from anonymity to popularity in three short years! Poor me. 🙂

  35. Christian says:

    Shannon, thanks for reminding me of those hot, chewy churros. Nothing better.

    Jami, I had never considered the plight of the poor Fairfield Jr. Higher. Thanks for bringing that to our attention. You’re lucky to have married up to a Kaysville Jr. Higher, which will improve your childrens’ status.

  36. david says:

    Great post!

  37. Audrey says:

    Thanks for the memories!

  38. chazz says:

    I miss Farmington.

  39. Davis says:

    Nice try, dumb crap.

  40. Christian says:

    I have no idea what you’re talking about, and am frankly insulted on behalf of my friends David, Audrey, and Chazz

  41. Faye Palmer says:

    We are only on UK10 at the moment – UK11 is not until next year! Try googling it.

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