A few weeks ago while driving out on old highway 91 toward Utah hill I pulled into the Shivwit cemetery to take a look and snoop around a little. The cemetery grounds are somewhat asymetrical, primitive, and seem a little neglected. However, I have seen people there caring for individual grave sites and leaving personal items on the red dirt mounds. As I walked between the chunks of sandstone, weathered wood, and contemporary markers I came upon the name of a person I new when I was in junior high school. The name is Lyman Smokey. Along with his name, date of birth and death, was engraved US army WWII. Woah! This set me back on my feet. The moment was quite emotional . All I new of Lyman Smokey was his alcoholism. To me as a boy he was a drunk. He would buy alcohol for kids at school if they gave him the money up front and if he could keep a bottle for himself. In time I had forgotten about Smokey, but I never forgot the rythmn of his name. I knew nothing of his life, his history, his family, his feelings, emotions, or personality. Today, I know he is dead, he was a veteran of WWII who served the United States of America as a soldier from southern Utah. From this accidental meeting I feel a need to know more clearly who this man really is.
