Dawn. I climbed out of the tent into a gray morning. The mother of the bride was asleep in the open air, burritoed in blankets, wearing her moose onesie costume; antlers splayed. To the north, in a crevice between peaks, an orange glow over the mountains. To the east, angel rays exploding. To my west, an amazing rainbow over the valley.

I tried to work as quickly as could be considerate. I felt the angst of getting done and back down the canyon to my kids. I knew there were apologies to be made, and yes, I dreaded them. But I also had the duty of properly packing my own shit and helping the others. There was probably more I could do to help, but I had to go. Back at the hotel my navigator greeted me warmly. My best man was already down by the pool with his flame.

I apologized for my behavior to everyone. It was uncomfortable, but necessary.

I have to say I dont believe a person should ever expect a reciprocal apology. There might be one due, but in making your own apology I simply dont think it should be with the expectation of something in return. That is not taking total responsibility for your actions.

After unloading the camping gear we turned to what we might do that day. Paul had suggested renting scooters and visiting Temple Square – the “Earth Portal” for Latter Day Saints. Supposedly there was a visitors center where one could push a button and the afterlife would be revealed to them. Both my son and I had to find this button. First we walked, then rented scooters. Those things are dangerously fast and entirely too much fun. So with no idea how to stop and no regard for pedestrians, off we scooted to the Mother Ship.

I mistook several buildings and complexes for Temple Square. I did not realize I was supposed looking for a compound about the size of four City blocks surrounded by a tall gray wall, with huge iron gates at the north and south sides.

We entered the compound through a north gate. A wide walkway cut through the compound with a grand temple on one side, the Tabernacle, Assembly Hall on the other. Gardens and fountains along the promenade. We stopped at a visitors center at the south gate and wandered in.

A nice display there, explaining the LDS commitment to family and historical dioramas depicting early LDS life, circa early 1800s. There were digital venues and infographics, but sadly no button to push revealing the afterlife. I left fairly quickly. Mainly because, to be honest, I don’t believe what these people believe, and frankly, it kinda creeped me out. I know very little about the LDS faith and what I do know conjures up the same kinda questions I would have about UFOs, ghosts, and Big Foot. Granted most atheist’s probably feel that way about anyone who adheres to a given religion. But LDS built an entire state through their faith. A country, if you will. And for the most part they’re wonderful people. I felt like I needed to get out of there before one of them engaged me and I’d end up offending them with questions.

That and Christian started making some very loud and uncomfortable statements in and amongst the pilgrims. “Who would actually believe this bullshit?” “Do they know this is f*ed up?”

Across the street was a high-end outdoor mall (kinda ironic I think, considering Christ’s come-unglued regarding a den of thieves in a temple, etc).

We had lunch at a Mexican place next to the hotel. Our waiter, while aloof at first, turned out to be a pretty good guy. Juliet, using sheer stealth willpower, Jedi mind-warped us into going out to the Great Salt Lake state park. We didn’t quite make it to the State Park, instead taking the Saltair exit.

The Saltair concert hall is built like an exotic Asian palace, with onion hats for a roof and stucco arches. Inside was empty except for the tiny gift shop, with its tiny souvenir plastic bottles of Salt Lake salt, tiny bottles of honey, souvenir trinkets and toys.

The actual concert venue “arena” if you will, was dead empty and quiet, but the spirit of tens of thousands of souls lost in a guitar hook and a perfectly executed drum fill still bounced around its rafters.

The façade of the concert hall was apropos considering the “beach.”

At first glance the beach seemed normal. To our side, in the distance, dark grey clouds gathered. They were far enough away at that point that their in-flow only tossed our hair a bit. But a putrid stench wafted on the wind, like we had just walked onto Hell’s very own beach.

The great Salt lake is stunning to look at, bizarre to feel, but a brutal assault on the nose. Dead seaguls scatter the salt, not sand, beach. Apparently they die from the salt in the bugs they eat, then their bodies rot in the sun and slowly erode into the salt. All the dead things rotting and eroding until all thats left is the salt they carried in their meat and blood.

Christian and Summer walked out into the lake, maybe a quarter mile or more, the water never getting above their knees.

Apparently some artist left a dinner table in the Salt Lake. Great pictures with a foreboding storm for a backdrop.

The “artist” also left a couch just off the water. Hardened with salt – as much as the dead birds – we took album cover photos.

I had intended all along to save money by camping – negated – and cooking – also negated. On the way back from the Great Salt Lake we found the rich people grocery store. I bought stuff for tacos. We saved a fraction of cash, but it was a damned site better than having to confiscate the kids “fun money” so I’d have gas to get home.

After dinner we played guitars. The Cox kids sang and wow, the boy knows how to play songs all the way through. Summer, however, appeared disconnected and as we sang, she interrupted about shows on HBO. I found it peculiar, but understandable. Either she didnt know the song, couldnt sing, uncomfortable, or, more likely, simply uninterested in participating.

The theme followed as we chatted poolside later. Christian and Juliet debated in-depth philosophical ideas, with the boy surprisingly quoting authors on whatever the subject was, and the girl responding with equally considered and researched counterpoints.

Summer demanded Christian come to the edge of the roof to see something on the sidewalk.

She’s not stupid. In fact she strikes me as every bit intelligent, if not more so, as anyone I know. She is, however, apparently extremely adept at redirecting his attention back to her. And that is a very important talent, I think.