My history with the Cox family goes back a long way. Before holding positions with SUU and BYU, Neil Cox was my mission president out in Chicago. A few years after I got home, Neil’s son Chad and I served in a YSA ward Elders Quorum Presidency before he left for med school. Though we were both in Chicago at the same time—and thus bear the shared experience of being Jazz fans in Illinois during Utah’s NBA Finals runs—I didn’t get to know Chad’s younger brother Jon until after my own grad school experience, when we were both knocking around the YSA scene. Jon combined an outgoing personality with some creative ingenuity, which led to me photographing an event he called the 4.01K, which required participants to run through downtown Salt Lake City in full business attire. Around that time, Jon was working for the former Senator Bob Bennett, and collecting the anecdotes and observations he’d eventually compile into his new book, “Utah Politics: Principles, Theories, and Rules of the Game.” I insisted that Jon meet me for lunch so I could get a personal dedication in my copy of his book, so we met at the Chunga’s out in Redwood Road and caught up one recent afternoon. After leaving Senator Bennett’s office, Jon spent some time in the world of academia down in Ephraim, served as a state representative, got married, and eventually landed at Rocky Mountain Power, where he currently works as Vice President of Government Affairs. Grown-up life aside, I’m crossing my fingers that in the near future, he’ll brainstorm a photo-worthy event to match the 4.01K. Judging by what I’m reading in “Utah Politics,” those creative juices are still flowing.
One of the more interesting aspects of returning to the ward I grew up in has been getting to know people as an adult that I previously only knew from a kid’s perspective. Kirk and his family moved into my ward sometime when I was in my early teens, and he became a family friend right away. He was a counselor in the bishopric around the time I set out for the world of YSA wards, so I was gone by the time he was formally called as bishop, but he was always one of the guys I enjoyed catching up with whenever I’d come back for a visit. Now, of course, the dynamic is a little different, though Kirk hasn’t changed at all. It’s been great fun over the last couple of years to talk movies on many occasions, either in the hall after sacrament meeting or before a press screening in Salt Lake—Kirk is a big enough movie guy that he’s done some freelance Uber work during Sundance—but beyond that, he’s just the kind of guy who gives you the sense that he’s looking out for you. While I was away from the ward, especially while my dad’s health was declining, it was reassuring to know that guys like Kirk were there in the neighborhood. A few weeks back, we dropped by the Sushi Monster at Station Park to talk movies and music and career and such—Kirk works as a Senior Account Executive for Taylor Communications. It’s good to have a shared love of sushi to add to the friendship, and to know he’s not the kind of guy to hold my awkward teen years against me.
As I’ve been doing my little profile series this year, it’s been fun to consider the plot of each friendship. In some cases I met friends and started hanging out immediately. With others we were acquaintances for years before having any meaningful interaction. I’ve known one of my regular “gym friends” since the second grade, but we barely interacted at all between the third grade and our thirties. I met Dave during a brief stretch of my YSA days up at the University of Utah, in the heyday of the University 32nd Ward. I remember him being a highlight of the Elders Quorum instructor rotation, combining dry wit with spiritual insight, which I appreciated as a fellow teacher. We knew each other well enough to know who the other one was, but that was about the extent of it. Dave then got married, vanishing from the YSA radar, and that was it. Fast-forward a few years, and there’s Dave again, now with a family and, appropriately enough, attending my family ward. He’s still combining humor and spirituality—this time as a Sunday School teacher—but now we’re playing softball together (anyone who knows Dave knows he’s a huge baseball guy), and I’m hearing all about his exploits in documentary filmmaking. Later we’re serving in the Elders Quorum together, playing church basketball together—he favors the three-ball—and once our friendship becomes legally certified on Facebook, I learn that he’s got a knack for celebrity sharpie portraits. The moral of the story? People come in and out of our lives at unexpected times, and you never know who you might wind up meeting to eat breakfast food for lunch with someday.
