John Saltas

One year ago today—October 15, 2023—my mother Stella Nepolis Saltas died. All of her children were there. Everyone had been at her side those last ominous days, starting not long prior when she was pulled over for speeding while driving home from bingo. The day before—October 14, 2023—was her 96th birthday. Happy birthday, Mama.

Private Eye

By the time you read this you will know the results of Tuesday's election, so there's no point in me waxing about how you might consider voting this way or that. What Election Day means to me, today—like all others since 1972—is that I can rest assured that my ballot was duly cast and duly collected. My vote will be counted and verified and I'm confident that nobody cheated.

The Usual "Best of Utah" Fallout

It's only been two weeks since election day—and just 206 weeks away from our next presidential election (should we even have another)—and, by golly, it appears winter did indeed come early to Utah. They are not completely silent, but it's noticeable that the formerly upbeat folks (including moi) who predicted a Kamala Harris win over Donald Trump are a bit less rosy-cheeked these days.

In commemoration of City Weekly's 40th anniversary, we are digging into our archives to celebrate. Each week, we FLASHBACK to a story or column from our past in honor of four decades of local alt-journalism. Whether the names and issues are familiar or new, we are grateful to have this unique newspaper to contain them all.

Just over a month ago, most Democrats, many Independents and a blessed few of our fellow Republicans awoke to the news that Donald Trump had won the 2024 presidential election. To say the least, there was much finger-pointing, fearmongering and dismay felt among that voting bloc, all of which was pointless because the world did not come to an end, as was commonly predicted.

As a lifelong sufferer of SAD—Seasonal Affective Disorder—I've never fully enjoyed this time of year. SAD affects about 5% of all Americans, or about 10 million people like me who mal-adjust to there being less sunlight in the fall and winter months and who sleepily find themselves more sad, more tired, less motivated and less optimistic, all looped together by the belt that finds its way around our growing waistlines. It's depression.

As a lifelong sufferer of SAD—Seasonal Affective Disorder—I've never fully enjoyed this time of year. SAD affects about 5% of all Americans, or about 10 million people like me who mal-adjust to there being less sunlight in the fall and winter months and who sleepily find themselves more sad, more tired, less motivated and less optimistic, all looped together by the belt that finds its way around our growing waistlines. It's depression.

In the waning hours of every year, people take time to ponder upon the 8,736 hours that filled their previous 364 days of breathing. Then, they share all of that rushed wisdom in every publication, on every broadcast and on nearly every social media feed, with everything they favored or missed. You know, the vaunted Top 10 Whatevers.