I grew up in the East, lured to the West by visions of mountains, cowboys and campfires provided by Hollywood via Roy Rodgers, John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Sky King. I ended up in a State of Bliss: Utah. Since arriving, I noted that Hollywood understated the West by a mile. It wasn’t their fault. How could they possibly show the lack of humidity on the big screen? How could they expose me to the sizzle of the sun at high noon mid-July? Being from the East, the hottest I ever knew was about 96 and that came with 90 percent humidity.

One hot summer day in the great salt desert, I noticed an antelope standing in the thin strip of shade provided by a road sign and I laughed. When I found myself outside during the summer in the same desert, I stood in the shade of a telephone pole and nodded knowingly to that same antelope.

Of course Utah is hotter; it’s closer to the sun than those Eastern states by 4,000 feet. Of course when describing the heat out here I am required to say, “It’s a dry heat,” then laugh politely.

I recently went on a business trip to the State of Despair — Louisiana for those not familiar — and found the humidity oppressive. When I returned to Salt Lake City, I kissed the dirty tarmac. Another trip in July took me to the Sad State of Affairs — Washington, D.C. Even that far north, humidity formed beads of sweat on places sweat shouldn’t be allowed, then ran to places best left undescribed.

Here in Utah, a thunderstorm in the summer brings two things: a cooling wind afterwards and a couple of lightning-sparked fires. The State of Confusion — Florida — brings more humidity to the point that you are not sure if you are in or out of the pool. And it breeds clouds of pesky mosquitoes.

Now I will admit that even in dry Utah, we have mosquitoes. I swatted one the other day so the sole survivor is still out there. So humid and wet is the State of Quiet Desperation — South Carolina — that the mosquitoes are often seen carrying people off to their lairs for later consumption.

Something else the West has that the East is missing is sunshine in abundance. Why, the sun stays up till 10 and sometimes 11 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. I can recall months of sun with only short interruptions for a passing cloud on its way east to join up with the herd that seems to constantly float over the State of Darkness — Maryland. Leave me without sun for more than a week and I become a gloomy, homicidal, depressive, morose, angry man vice the homicidal, depressive, morose, angry man I usually am.

There is a period of time during the winter in Utah that puts me on edge and that is when the inversion comes and coats the valley with fog and haze. The easy cure is to drive to the State of Delirium, otherwise known as Park City, which isn’t really a state but wishes it were. Park City sits majestically above the cursed blanket. Here the sky is blue and the temperatures are higher. They’re closer to the sun and gloat about it.

Glenn Parkhurst moved to Stansbury Park in 2003 from the East Coast. He uses his observations while living in Tooele County and his work at EnergySolutions as a project supervisor — which requires he travel frequently — to inspire his writing. He is a single father of four boys and 11 grandchildren.