Utah Hot Spots; Vol. 1

We have lived in Utah for three years now, (I know - we're shocked, too), and we've been around long enough to know where the "hot spots" are. And I use that term loosely, because my family's definition of fun is likely different than most others'. For example:

We love the Brigham City Museum. We have actually only been once, but the kids were so impressed that they have begged to go again, and can we please bring some friends? I myself have thought of bringing my own friends, because the horror that is "Eliza's Attic" is more frightening than any spook alley I have ever been to and should be shared with as many unsuspecting folk as possible. It is dark and cold in the attic. There is strange light coming from the fake fireplace where you can see a stew simmering at a nice bubble with chicken's feet sticking straight out. A window sits on one cramped corner where you can look in and see your own head sitting atop a mannequin wearing funeral clothes. Everything smells old and musty, and the floor creaks with every step. My kids ate it up.

The museum staff is kind enough to provide a study sheet to go along with your tour of the attic. All of the interactive displays are numbered, and my mother, children and I will never forget display #4. You open a small chest and there is a "child" laying there in a white gown. The corresponding question on the study sheet is, "Why is the baby in the chest?" My kids couldn't imagine why anyone would put a baby in a chest, so as my mother begins to tell the kids that not everyone back in pioneer days had a crib for their baby, so they had to put the infants in drawers or whatever... "Nope," I interrupted. "The paper says that the baby is in the chest because the baby is dead."

Oh the screams and laughter that erupted from that attic!

And that's before we even got to the top of the short staircase that promised a surprise behind the door. We opened that door and were greeted by a life-size black and white image of Blind Man Jones with his gaping mouth and facial deformities. There was even a rubber rat hiding behind the door. Ethan fell backwards down the stairs in his haste to put distance between Mr. Jones and himself, and we all screamed involuntarily and didn't feel bad at all, because obviously the curator of this po-dunk museum was going for a fun-house type of horror. We began to wonder if this was some kind of joke and where were the hidden cameras?

The next question on the "educational" museum sheet was a multiple choice question asking what we thought Blind Man Jones' occupation might have been.

A) butcher
B) barber
C) mailman

My vote was butcher, but probably not in the sense that most think of a butcher. That museum director has a very sick sense of humor. I like him. Or her. Also, "barber" could have been a plausible choice because it would explain where Utah Hair came from. Turns out, however, that Mr. Jones was the town mailman. Can you imagine the confusion when Mrs. Roberts got a letter that belonged to Mrs. Abbot and Mrs. Abbot received Mrs. Roberts' tax bill? Actually, my mailman is such a gem that I wouldn't have a moment's hesitation in trading him for a blind model.

Outside of "Eliza's Attic", where the normal parts of the museum lurk, Mom and I tried to show the kids how to churn butter, and one of the museum volunteers offered to help the kids case their own sausage. Shockingly, they were not interested. They only wanted to go back and look at the "dead baby".

On our way home that afternoon, we took the opportunity to quiz the kids on what they had learned that day.

"And do you remember why the baby was in the chest?" I asked.

"Yes, because the mailman killed her," answered Ethan.

Yep, I think they got the gist of it.