By lex, on August 26th, 2006
The Orem and Provo regions, specifically.
I just received a fascinating note from an old squadron mate that cracked the window on a really neat opportunity for the life-after-this. No promises, obviously – there are so very few promises in life – but the glimmers of a path, in a “two roads / yellow wood” kind of a way. Googled the company – a well-connected start-up with a growth-oriented business model (and potentially explosive growth), a technological advantage in an emerging niche and a prospective job opening which would probably be a pretty good fit for your correspondent.
Haitch Queue is here in Sandy Eggo, but the work itself would probably be in the Provo area.
Which is why I want you, gentle reader, to talk to me about Provo. And Orem. But probably not Park City – that’d be a cruel stretch of commuting.
Unless of course I could get my own plane as a part of the compensation package. Which I’m not actually being serious about that. Entirely.
So far as I can tell there are several advantages to me: Wide open vistas, crystal clean air, rivers to wave a wand over, hills to climb and a variety of things to shoot at.
The down side? It’s not Sandy Eggo, to which several of the others in my clan have become strangely attached. Beaches, etc. Surfer boys.
But I bet they’ve got horses in Provo. Or maybe Orem.
And yes, I know that there are certain – how shall I put this: Restrictions placed upon the market in Utah generally. But I also discovered that Provo has an Episcopal Church. And you know what they say about us, we Episcopalians, don’t you?
Wherever any four are gathered, you can usually find a fifth.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
– Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken