Jami, I had never considered the plight of the poor Fairfield Jr. Higher. Thanks for bringing that to our attention. You’re lucky to have married up to a Kaysville Jr. Higher, which will improve your childrens’ status.

Macy, I must regrettably inform you that your status at Davis High was probably taken up a notch when we started hanging out, most likely due to my Somerset status. But there always was the Farmington/Kaysville riff between us that remained unresolvable. Remember how we used to joke about how our hometowns were better than each other’s because it was where the boys we liked resided? And I did use the argument that Farmington housed Lagoon where people from all over came for an unforgettable day filled with piping hot Churros, pre-pubescent boys wearing spandex shorts and cut-off t-shirts who rode up and down the SkyRide, and riding the Colossus over and over in hopes of scoring the front seat. It’s indisputable.

I also saw something in Lagoon that some neglected to appreciate. I was a handstamper for a summer and marveled over the hot lifeguards as they walked through my gate. It was then and there that I decided I would do anything to become on. This came to fruition the very next year when I believe I peeked socially. Not only did I live in Somerset, but I was a Lagoon lifeguard. I’ll never forget arrogantly walking through the gates with my black foam visor, whistle around my neck and my lifeguard t-shirt tied in a knot, smirking at the handstampers (and merchandisers). Nevermind the fact that Lagoon didn’t want me back the next year after finding me asleep in a the lifeguard chair in Mooch’s Hooch.

Like Stefanie, I too was confused by the Somerset Stigma. I got my first pair of Girbaud jeans from the clearance rack at Mervyns after they became wildly unpoplular, and I used to dream of getting a hold of a triangle “Guess” patch and glueing it to the pocket of my “Lee” jeans. And unlike my fellow Somersetians, I spent those fateful afternoons at FJH in the Lagoon recruitment lines rehearsing for why I would excell at using a stamp because I HAD to get a job. A job that would enable me to buy my own school clothes and hopelessly save for a car I would never have.

With that said, my favorite part about living in Somerset was the close proximity to the bus station by Cherry Hill. It was a simple death-defying sprint across Highway 89 to catch the UTA to the Layton Hills mall. A feat I did nearly every day in the summer. Imagine that. A Somersetian actually hanging out in Layton by choice.

Thanks for the nostalgia and for the reminder of my cool roots, even if it was only by association.