Change

Cottonwood Mall is gone. Bulldozed to the ground. Most people find this welcome news but a part of me is devastated. The mall is where I got my ears pierced at the tender age of six, where I bought Christmas presents for the first time, and where I spent the bulk of my meager allowance for the first 15 years of my life. When I was a child, the mall was a magical, bustling place where I accompanied my mom on her various errands in hopes of being rewarded with an ice cream cone from Golden Swirl. In later years the mall became a Mecca for me and my friends. Practically every Friday afternoon was spent trying on clothes we couldn’t afford, weaseling free makeovers from the makeup counters, or just wandering aimlessly while we waited for someone’s mom to pick us up.
In recent years the mall has become a barren ghetto- the Tijuana of Utah shopping establishments- so I guess I should be glad that the building will be put out of its misery and transformed into something better. Yet my stubborn desire for things to remain as they are- as I remember them- outweighs my rational thought in matters like these. When driving through the Holladay neighborhood I grew up in, I am constantly reminded of my inability to let go. The restaurant on Murray-Holladay Road, which has gone through various incarnations but now bears the moniker “Sharon’s Café”, will always be Corey’s Kitchen, home of the greatest curly fries known to man. The Store will never fully replace Kathy’s, a health food emporium with a free juice station and a device that ground peanuts into organic peanut butter right in front of your eyes. And I will never stop mourning the loss of Video Vern’s. The place was HUGE, with a fantastic selection of creepy old movies, 99 cent rentals, and free popcorn. Blockbuster does not even compare.
I realize that one day I will have to grow up. I will have to accept the fact that Java Jim’s closed down without me ever facing my childhood fears by going inside. I will have to refrain from cringing every time I see the remodeling disaster that transformed Olympus Junior High into something resembling a federal prison. I will have to stop dissolving into panic mode every time my older sister mentions buying my childhood home from our parents to completely gut and remodel it. I try to tell myself that all this is normal- that things change and I need to deal with it. But really I just take comfort in the fact that Olympus Pharmacy is still standing and my now defunct elementary school has been saved from demolition and instead converted into Holladay City Hall. God bless the Utah State Historical Society.