Paige Albrecht

A Canceled Softball League and the Birth of a Public Servant

Paige bought her husband a softball team for Christmas — wrote a poem and gave him his own roster. For a few years it was wonderful. Then the league was canceled. She researched, went to city council, stood at the podium, and left feeling defeated. But she stayed for the whole meeting. And the next. For eight years, before holding any office, she attended city council and Planning Commission meetings every week — simply because the process fascinated her.

Paige Albrecht

Baby Land — A Place of Refuge Most People Don't Know About

Asked what she was most proud of in ten years of public service, Paige bypassed the fire stations and police building. She talked about Baby Land — a specially designated section of the Lehi Cemetery for infants, with a beautiful statue. Her nephew and his wife lost their baby and found it there. 'That's when you know you live in a community that cares — even when nobody's watching.'

Paige Albrecht

A Promise Kept: The Softball League Returns After Ten Years

Ten years after the men's softball league was canceled, Paige posted a photo of her oldest son playing on his own softball team in the same league. The park space materialized. The lights went up. Even the mink farm moved. 'Promise kept,' she says. She was careful to note she had almost nothing to do with it — it was departments, staff, years of planning, and many unseen contributors.

Paige Albrecht

A Canceled Softball League and the Birth of a Public Servant

Paige bought her husband a softball team for Christmas — complete with a poem she wrote as an English major. For a few years the team played in the Lehi men's softball league and everyone loved it. Then one year she went to sign them up and was told the league was canceled. She went to city council. Nothing happened. But she stayed for the whole meeting — and then the next one, and the next. For eight years before holding any office, she attended meetings every week simply because the process fascinated her.

Paige Albrecht

Baby Land — A Place of Refuge Most People Don't Know About

Asked what she was most proud of after a decade in public service, Paige bypassed fire stations and park projects. She talked about Baby Land — a special section of the Lehi Cemetery for infants, with a beautiful statue, created during her time in office. Her nephew and his wife lost their baby and found comfort there. "That's when you know you live in a community that cares — even when nobody's watching."

Paul Binns recounts his upbringing in a household governed by a simple yet profound mantra: 'you get back.' He describes how, as a child, snowfall didn't just mean a day off school, but an obligation to grab a shovel and serve the neighbors. This expectation of service was not tied to recognition but was the fundamental 'rule of the house.' As his parents aged, this value of contributing to the community's operation through personal sacrifice remained his guiding principle, eventually leading him to run for mayor once his children were older and his business was stable.

After an arson fire gutted the Greenwoods' furniture store and reception center, the family was left devastated. In response, the town of Lehi rallied to support them. They organized a massive fundraising banquet with turkey and gravy, raising $10,000—a staggering sum in the 1960s. This event not only provided the capital for the Greenwoods to get back on their feet but also instilled in Ken a deep sense of debt and gratitude to the community. This moment of collective generosity was the primary catalyst that eventually led him to run for mayor.

Sally Francom recalls her mother, Betty Fowler, who served as the editor of the Lehi Free Press for 23 years starting in 1970. Betty began as a temporary fill-in but became the town's central information hub, often described as 'Lehi's original Google.' People would visit the Fowler home to ask for directions to the police station or cemetery. Despite having no formal journalism background, Betty was a gifted writer who single-handedly produced the entire weekly paper, covering everything from the police blotter and obituaries to city hall meetings in a town of 4,000 to 5,000 people.

During the tumultuous period following the vote to split the Alpine School District, Jeanne-Marie organized a 'popup nacho bar' for district administrators. She recalls a conversation with a curriculum director who felt as though he had been 'fired' by the split, yet immediately pivoted to creating three new curriculum plans to ensure no student was left behind during the transition.