It’s easy to lose perspective here. There really is something wonderfully strange about this place. In Ogden, society seems to marinate. Just as in Huck Finn’s stew, the flavors here sort of swap around with each other and make everything taste better. Mostly ignored by the world, or derided by the rest of Utah, Ogden attracts and holds the most varied and tightest groups of benevolent eccentrics—no matter their ideology—in Northern Utah. I don’t care if anyone outside knows what a great place Ogden is. It doesn’t really matter much what outsiders think of Ogden, but it’s crucial that the people who live here appreciate this utterly unique city.

When people ask, I just tell them what a closely-knit community Ogden is. They usually can’t relate, and lately, I’m not sure if I can either. I worry I’ve been lying to people for years about how Ogden is the only city in Utah where whatever we identify with to distinguish ourselves—race, creed, ideology, language, income, left-handed or not—whatever it is, that difference disappears on the streets. In Ogden, we might distrust each other’s beliefs or lifestyles, but we’ll say “hi” in the store, and we’ll all have a blast together once a year at the greatest example of community fun and unified diversity I’ve ever seen. This year, however, I wonder what happened.

The recent absurdities over The Festival Formerly Known as Street are typical of how our political system has been perverted over the last thirty or so years. At all levels of government, the winners win big and the losers really do lose. Somewhere along the line, we started electing belief systems, not thinkers. Our system of government might be a sham unless every eligible citizen votes in every election. After all, a majority vote of 45% of our eligible population is not a true majority; it’s 23% deciding for everyone. In light of this opinion, we haven’t ever had a valid election. It’s funny that we can’t prohibit most folks from voting, but we can’t force them to either.

I read in the paper that 12.5% turned out for the last Weber County primary. What?! Where’s all the patriotism? Where’s all the civic pride? It’s just an image, a package, a media fabrication. We don’t seem to have any faith in our system of government; we just love bumper stickers. It’s sad.

It infuriates me that we could have something better to do during local and county elections, in which voters have the most direct power. The Supreme Court and Electoral College have curtailed my right to choose nationally, but not locally. The decisions that local governments make, and allow others to make, are immediate. Their products are tangible; I can see the results on the way to work in the morning.

The new recycling program is an excellent example of the wise thinking and implementation our local government is capable of when it realizes nobody is watching. I never would have expected such a strong conservation program within a State whose flag has the word “Industry” smack in the middle of it. I have nothing but praise for whoever implemented that program, but only regarding that program. It shows exactly the kind of foresight and wisdom I want in my local government.

The way we use our system would have us see politics as a series of ideological conflicts, not as a series of group decisions directed toward an inclusive public good. When elections are about beliefs, not policy, it’s easy for voters not to participate because the stakes are so high. Deeply held personal or religious convictions cannot be compromised easily, if at all. If we have to ante up all our emotional chips to get in the game, it’s safer to stay at the bar. Basing our political system on these kinds of passions can make a rigid, exclusionary government. I think it has become this bad in voters’ minds: ‘My side has to win because if the only other legitimate side wins, it will take away what makes me human’.

During the festival weekend, I was glad to see three stages of homogenized, easy-to-digest music because the sheer quantity made me forget that difference can be fun. I drank root beer because I didn’t want to feel like a steer in a corral. I sat on the lawn, not in bleachers. I love to feel the grass in my toes. I gave comfort and joy to people by smiling at them for no reason, but they thought I was drunk. I did not go out of my way to see the puppet shows because they weren’t sock-puppet porno. I left feeling more alienated than ever from this society.

I will never call it anything but StreetFest, and I will not believe any idea that says Ogden is anything other than what it is: frightening, rough, filled with difference, and difficult to accept, but glorious when it comes together on payday . . . Come to think of it, that’s a lot like life. We can’t protect ourselves from life; we can’t protect ourselves from Ogden. Can we protect Ogden from everything factional, greedy, divisive, and hateful in ourselves? Let’s forget about Imposterfest 2002 and try again next year.

If I had to get to know every driver on the road before I felt safe enough to, I’d never drive. If I had to know everyone in Ogden before I could enjoy myself at a public event, I never would. If I had a weak value system, I would never leave the house. If I had to know every politician personally, I could never vote. I don’t expect any of it to turn out the way I want it to, but I still drive, enjoy myself at public events, leave the house, and vote. Isn’t that called having faith? I’m not sure—I’ve never consciously had any before, and I don’t want to start now. How will I test my faith if things start turning out like I want them to?

Scott Woodham - Summer 2002

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