“Those Monticello Girls”

by Sally Jack
I was born in the “new” hospital at the edge of town in Monticello, Utah, but since I was too young to remember that, it doesn’t count. I grew up saying, “I’m from Blanding.”
As a little girl, I knew all about Monticello: you had to get in a car to go there; the smell of dead skunk always greeted you just as you entered the city; and it was always cold in Monticello because the wind never stopped blowing.
As I grew older, I learned to beware of Those Monticello Girls. We may have all been delivered by Dr. Goon, but we were Rivals with a capital R, and we must never forget it. One must not make friends with the enemy. I watched from afar as Those Monticello Girls did many of the same activities that we did—band, cheer, drill team, drama, sports. I didn’t know them, but I knew their names.
From time to time we would be thrown together at ball games or stake church activities or region dance festivals, but we never really mingled, never really got to know each other. After all, a person had to be careful around Those Monticello Girls.
The first few years of our married life, we moved seven times, so you’d think that I was used to being new, but when we moved to Monticello that was different, and I was scared silly! Other Blanding girls like Denise Frost, Jody Fellmeth, Suzanne Anderson, Cassie Boyle, and Roma Young had married Monticello boys, moved to Monticello, and lived to tell about it, but I had married a Blanding boy . . . so this was enemy territory for both of us!
Our first Sunday in Monticello after being transferred here with my husband’s job, we went to church. When it was time for class, the son of One of Those Monticello Girls refused to let my son sit on the empty chair next to him in Primary. That did it! My courage failed me and I fled into the ladies room, locked the door, and cried, unable to get a grip on my emotions. I cried until my face was red and splotchy and then I cried some more. There was no way I was going to go to my own Sunday School class with Those Monticello Girls!
Words have the power to heal or to hurt. And the words that soothed my soul when I finally got up the courage to walk into my class alone and sit down at the back of the room were those of a stranger, one of Those Monticello Girls who turned around in her seat, smiled at me, and said, “Don’t sit back there all by yourself, honey, come up here and sit by me.”
After some time in Monticello, we began to settle in. One by one our kids started school at Monticello Elementary School. We were slowly making friends, getting to know people, learning to fit in.
Then came the fateful day when our eldest started playing football. Of course I wanted our team to win the game. But he came home with a black and orange jersey, and my gold and blue Bronco heart revolted against that black and orange with a vehemence that surprised me. Cheering for my kid was one thing – dressing him in orange and black was quite another!
It was even more awkward at Blanding / Monticello games. Our nephews played for San Juan. We wanted to cheer for them, too. As Romeo and Juliet found out, you can garner some mighty dirty looks trying to be both a Montague and a Capulet.
My takeaway from being a San Juan County hybrid is that there are wonderful people in both communities.
It’s a great thing when people from Blanding and Monticello play volleyball together to raise money for families going through the daunting and often discouraging trial of cancer, or sing together in a performance of Messiah, or work together at school, boy scout camp, the temple, or the county fair.
We miss out when we don’t make the effort to make friends. It’s not a good idea to make up your mind about a group of people or an individual until you’ve taken the chance to truly get to know them.
Looking back, I find my mindset both laughable and pathetic. How could anyone be scared of Cyndi Burtenshaw or Jill Pearson or any of Those Other Monticello Girls? They are my friends. I have laughed with both of them more times than I can count.
I needed to take a cue from our young son. The first day we moved to St. George, he spotted a boy his age and said, “Hi Friend!” to which the other little boy responded, “Hi Friend!”
They loved each other instantly and wholeheartedly, as children often do with someone their own size. They were best friends. And the funny thing is, we never did know that child’s name. He was simply, “Friend.”
So from a Blanding-Monticello girl to all Those Monticello Girls near and far, I have only one thing to say: Let’s be friends.