I watched a historic home be torn down today. Orange dust from the crushed bricks plumed in the air even though they tried to hose it down. Later, they shoveled the rubble away. Bricks, wood and memories unceremoniously dumped. The house stood on a plot of land that used to be a farm and now contains dozens of ramblers for senior citizens to accommodate Utah's rapid growth. It was likely seen as an eyesore. But someone used to live in that house. A family. I hope someone is alive who remembers them, their work, their lives. I went and recovered a brick so at least I would remember. It probably took months to build that house and less than an hour to tear it down.