The Utah Boy’s Ranch (’97)

I don’t remember exactly how long I lived at the Utah Boy’s Ranch. I think it was about 2 1/2 months. I remember the day I got there, though. I was stoned… as usual. I remember I had tears rolling down my face when they cut my long hair off shortly after I arrived. I remember some of the other kids there looked at me a little sideways because I’d carved a face into my arm with a razor blade a day or three before, and they thought I was a straight edger (I don’t know why I did that [carved up my arm], other than that I think I was hurting emotionally and must have thought that somehow doing so was going to bring me some form of relief…).

Of course it didn’t.

I remember “work crew,” a sort of military discipline that you experienced both to start your time at the Ranch and if you got in serious trouble. If I’m remembering correctly, you earned your way off work crew through good behavior.

To give you an idea of what work crew was like, I think we were to remain totally silent all day, unless spoken to by a leader, and we were to just work as we were told–doing landscaping, cleaning buildings, etc. Breaking rules was punishable by calisthenics and whatnot.

I guess maybe you could call it the typical harsh, more military style, of trying to break you.

I remember the cafeteria served expired yogurt that I think had been donated from stores or something. I remember coming up with different ways I could escape from the Ranch, including hopping the garbage truck as it was getting ready to leave, sneaking out at night and just making a run for it, hopping a train and riding away (I was quite close to doing that last one at one point).

I remember my best friend at the Boy’s Ranch turning out to be gay, which I didn’t know until I was transferred to another “home” because of a love letter they’d found that he’d written to me but hadn’t given to me.

I remember having a huge crush on my psychology teacher (yep, we had school at the Ranch as well). My psych teacher’s name was Heather, and she was probably a 20-something single woman who I thought was drop-dead gorgeous. Harder to pay attention to the curriculum when you have a beautiful teacher. 🙂

I remember scaring one of my roommates half to death by pretending an evil spirit came in through the window and took possession of my body.

I don’t think I ever confessed to him that it was a hoax.

I remember figuring out how to get past my room’s motion sensor alarm that was put in place to keep kids from escaping at night. I remember writing poems and having one of the guys there tell me they were all just dime-a-dozen kind of things. I think that hurt a bit, given that I still remember it. I was a poem writer and would later write many songs as well.

I remember making a pipe (for smoking pot) and hiding it in the bushes outside my window only to be told on and sent back on work crew). I never did plan to use it I don’t think. I think I was just trying to be “cool,” trying to find a way to raise my social standing with the other kids.

I remember earning home visits for good behavior and wishing I could be like the lucky kid who got to have a “home” visit with the psych teacher because he didn’t have a home nearby to go home to, and she offered her place.

He repaid her kindness by stealing her car.

Yeah. I wouldn’t have stolen her car. No, was the thief with me. She’d stolen my heart 😉 .

I remember our seminary teacher taking scriptures from the Book of Mormon and turning them into raps to help us memorize them (“seminary” is a theological class for Mormon teenagers, and since we were in Utah, the majority of the boys at the Ranch were Mormons). I wasn’t at the Ranch for very long, so I think I was only there for a couple two or three of his raps, but I still have one of those scriptures memorized in rap form… Man that was a good way to get those things locked in our brains! 🙂

What else… I remember going before a judge about my attempted break in of the Snow Shack and having him say that since I was already in the Boy’s Ranch, they weren’t going to do anything further. I thought that was contingent upon my “graduating” from the place, but it was expensive for my parents to keep me there (I believe my dad and stepmom paid the hefty price tag themselves), and the money ran out long before I “graduated,” at which point, I was sent to live with them (my dad and stepmom). I guess the state never knew I didn’t “graduate” from there because they never came knocking.

So… there you have it… After the money dried up, my dad and stepmom couldn’t afford to keep me at the Ranch, so thus ended my days at the Utah Boy’s Ranch.

Though I guess I don’t really make it clear in the above, I did actually want to change, and when I left the Boy’s Ranch, I didn’t want to return to doing the kinds of things I used to do. I wanted to move on, move forward, and leave behind the drugs, the stealing, and all the junk I’d been involved with in the past. Provo, Utah and a couple of years with my dad and stepmom would be the next step in that journey.