Growing up, I spent countless hours throwing a baseball as hard as I could against the side of our family’s cinder block garage. If a better way of spending time existed, the world did a great job of keeping it secret. I thought “cinder block ball” was the official pastime of every boy in Spanish Fork, Utah. I thought it was normal to spend that much time alone, dreaming of the day I’d be able to put the Beehive State and the circumstances of my life in the rearview mirror.
Last week I saw that old cinder block garage. My mind drifted back to that angry kid, tears streaming down his face as he attempted to escape reality by throwing a baseball until his arm went numb. I’m thankful for him. I’m thankful he didn’t give up. I hope he’d be proud of the person he is today. I hope he’d forgive me for the regrets, pain, and heartache I’ve created along the way. I hope he’d appreciate the way I love my wife Brooke and I hope he’d feel the overwhelming happiness our four children bring to life.
I hope he wouldn’t be too mad he lives just a few minutes from that garage. It turns out Utah was too special to shake. It’s become more than a beautiful land filled with kind, earnest, and flawed folks trying their best to make it a better place – it’s become a personal reminder of a boy’s journey to a better and happier life. It’s become home, and for that I couldn’t be more thankful.
I’m thankful for what we’ve built together. What makes Silicon Slopes special is the people who live, create, and serve here. Thank you for everything you’ve done to make this community what it is today.
