My wife and I drove down to Cedar City this morning with her parents for our annual pilgrimage to the Tony-Award-winning Utah Shakespearean Festival, one of the cultural treasures of this state. (Another is the Utah Festival Opera up in Logan, which, alas, our schedule has prevented us from attending this year.) We saw To Kill a Mockingbird in the afternoon and Shakespeare’s rarely performed Titus Andronicus this evening.
I hope to write about those tomorrow. (Or, I guess, since it’s now past midnight, later today.)
One of our traditions while here in Cedar City is to lunch every day at The Pastry Pub, owned by Syrus Saifizadeh. I really like their Southwestern Salad, while the rest of the gang always get the Pub Salad. A great place.
We typically mix our plays here — we see two a day for three days — with excursions up to Cedar Breaks National Monument, over to some of my ancestral areas in and around Pine Valley, and/or, even, to the solemn and sad site of the Mountain Meadows Massacre.
We’ve been doing this for something like twenty-five years now, I think. It’s become an indispensable end-of-summer ritual.
Cedar City, Utah.