Why I don’t do the brunch at Sundance

I love you–my wife, sons, daughters in law and grandchildren–

and I enjoy being with you; however, I’ve opted out of the Sundance

brunch based on my strong feelings, which are based on life scripting.

 

Here are some sketches of such scripting.

 

First, I recall–during high school and college–knowing some guys

who worked at Sundance. I didn’t like them. They talked of making

easy money (big tips) and rubbing shoulders with celebrities, while

I was being an athlete and then tending worst-case idiots at the state

training schools for $4/hour.

 

Twice in my life, at Zion and Yellowstone, I worked in hot kitchens

making next to nothing while guys in ties and logo shirts made big tips

in the air-conditioned dining rooms. I detested those guys.

 

Second, I acquired some Jones’ frugality. Believe me, you have

no idea how extreme it was.  One clue is mom’s frugality during

her last 18 years (the reason you have an inheritance). Her father,

Dr. JG Jones, was far more frugal. Yes, he had a new Cadillac

every year, but I know he cut the deal of lifetime with Harmon’s.

The dealer in Provo discounted the new car and paid top dollar for

his low-mileage used Caddy.  Your inheritance money is Jones’ money.

 

Third, I’m not comfortable paying $500 for breakfast when Pam

and I and the kids don’t eat more than a few mouthfuls.  I gave Pam

1/4 of my share of the inheritance for this reason:  she (and you) should

spend it on whatever brings her happiness, health and peace of mind.

For her, the Sundance brunch is well worth it for the sake of

bringing family together. For me, I’m too bothered by the waste

to enjoy the experience.  There are other great places to gather and

eat a meal that costs a small fraction.

 

Fourth, from 2008 to 2013, I worked 60 hours a week for

next to nothing to pay off debts resulting from fraud and

embezzlement. While I was never a big spender, that

experience makes it hard for me to spend any money.

 

Fifth, since losing my business in 2013, I’ve worked for about

$10 an hour to make other people look good in print–people who

can’t write but need a book.  So, money still comes hard for me,

as it always has.  I suppose that I spend it as hard as I make it.

 

I realize that I could rewrite the script; after all, I am a writer.

But my feelings about the Sundance brunch haven’t changed.

Until they do, I’ll opt out.

 

I am pleased that you all had a good time.

 

Please don’t bother to rebut this note.  Suffice it say that I know

you think I’m dead wrong about opting out of the Sundance brunch.

 

Love,

 

Dad

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