He never requested, it was always a summons. I received a text at around one P.M. saying, Get your ass over here. I went home and changed into something more conservative first. A gray suit with a gold tie and pocket square. I drove my Cadillac, and though the ride was smooth, it annoyed me. It was associated now with greasy mobsters and old men and I didn’t want to be seen in it. But it was my father’s favorite type of car. I parked outside city hall in handicap parking and went inside. The space was decorated with flags and paintings of veterans, a statue of Brigham Young up in the corner that was slated to be taken down next month, the residents feeling that, though he founded Utah, he was too much a religious symbol and had no place in a government building. I found the mayor’s office and walked past his secretary. My father was at his desk with two city councilmen discussing something about monster homes and stopping their development in some area of Park City.
