
Our quirky coffee house is complete with an on-your-honor communal library stuffed with astrological texts, Marxist tomes, poetry anthologies, and the independent weekly rag, local artists' paintings are displayed on dynamically colored walls, and shade-grown organic blends are sold alongside locally-made vegan burritos. It boasts communal rent and space with our independent music store, obscure vinyl guaranteed, and everyone's favorite boutique of sex accoutrement.

Our public library is a century-old gothic mansion overrun with ancient oaks and ivy vines. It rests across the street from our locally-owned italian ice cafe, mango and passion fruit come highly recommended, and is within walking distance of a non-profit retail establishment selling fairly-traded handmade goods crafted by artisans in developing countries.
And yet I should have seen this coming. I was an idealistic undergrad at the small, private liberal arts college that anchors the community when the OldNavyBedBathandBeyondBarnesandNobleAnnTaylorPetCo eyesore was constructed. This behemoth looms ominously across the street from the vibrant scene described above. I'm upset, but I'm not surprised. God bless America. I should have assumed it was only a matter of time before every last drop of culture was gone.

I've made my home here for eight years now and will profoundly miss our unique space and energy. However, I feel this is an appropriate wake: the opportunity to cherish the space of this auditorium - a space where concerned citizens chose to invest in the democratic process and united under a common cause. Futile or not, I'm grateful for this journey.
My love affair with Sugarhouse