Signs of our times

There are some signs out there that I am not sure we either need any more, ever needed, or that beg the question if we want them at all. Here are just a few.

'Unleaded gas'. Do we still need this one? We haven’t sold gas with lead in it for about 150 years. It has become a habit to call it that. I remember when we needed to tell the difference between leaded and un-leaded at the gas station. When cars came out with catalytic converters, if you put lead in the tank, something exploded or melted or crapped on your shoes-something. Today, every car has a catalytic converter unless you’re driving an old De Soto from Havana. Even those cars can take unleaded. Let’s quit paying the poor guy in the paint shop for those six letters and just call it ‘gas.’ And really, if you pull into a gas station, do you really need to be reminded its ‘gas’? Maybe if you were that woman who bought the ‘hot’ coffee at McDonald's and then spilled it on herself and sued them because it was, well, hot.

“Walk-in’s welcome’ in front of a palm reader’s house/business. Really? Are there that many people making appointments to have their palms read that you really need to buy a can of red paint, a four by eight sheet of plywood, write those words on it and prop it up on the sidewalk in front of your house? And frankly, how many of us drive down the street and see that sign and say ‘Oh, yeah, that reminds me, I need to stop and have my future told by some total stranger who wants to charge me $30 cash, visa or MasterCard, to tell me I am going to meet a handsome stranger who is going to make a difference in my life?

Tell ya what, I will predict your future right now and save you the $30. You will meet a handsome stranger (their momma thinks their handsome despite the scar that goes from their forehead to their jaw and their lazy eye) and they will make a difference in your life because they are the bag boy at Fry’s and they put the milk on top of the eggs you were planning on having for dinner.

'Home Cooking'. Do I really want to go to a restaurant where they say this? Does that mean they really don’t cook the food in the back but at someone’s home and then ship it to the restaurant? Of course not. It means there is a bed and a small TV on a night stand in the corner behind the walk-in freezer in the back and the cook sleeps there because he was kicked out of his house for drinking shots of rum while being ‘inappropriate’ with the cat. Do we really want that? I think not.

And like the picture at the top of this blog, do we all really live in a neighborhood that has slow children?

My favorite-the plastic cover on my new lawn mower had stenciled on it in about a dozen places ‘this bag is not a toy.’ How many parents give their child that item and say “Hear you go son/daughter, go play with this. STAY away from the hot coffee though!” Any adult who does that needs to be thinned from the herd. Wait, I forgot, there is that woman with the hot coffee from McDonald's.

I guess there are those people out there that need this.

Look, I’m just making some observations here. I guess we just need to be reminded that there are some among us who need a little help—a lot of the time.

Peace in a Small Town, Day 7, last day

Day 7-last day

I wish I could report this morning the Bad Boys were found eating some more of Mrs. Johnson’s award winning roses, but I can’t. I think they have moved on to the next cycle of deer life; having wives, kids, finding a place to stay in the woods, staying out of the cross hairs of anything with the word Remington on it. The town, early this morning, is bustling with people loading up their Range Rovers and moving on to the next town or state.

So, how does a Grand Lady clean herself up when she is overrun with people and vehicles so thick they are lined up in both directions as far out of town as one can see, double parked, overflowing her trash cans, and generally taking up too much room on the sidewalks? How? She rains on them; rains on them a lot. I mean a lot of rain, hard, pelting, sideways, in a confined space, on all of them, soaking them and making them cold.

They were running to their cars, under over-hangs, getting back on their motorcycles and Caravans and pulling their soaking wet Maltese’s in to the cars with them. There, they stayed for hours. A large supply of them gave up and left even before the fireworks.

Maggie’s Kitchen closed early yesterday. They sold out of the smoked brisket and pork shoulder along with their burgers. The boss went home to take a nap and a shower.

The fireworks in this town are probably one of the best in the country. The town fathers had shortened the show due to budget. This town lives on tourism and we all know that is down. They have to cut their school budget this year by 10% which is now into staff. When you only have 200 students in a K-12 program, that can be a whole grade level. It was obvious the show was cut back. They had large times between rockets, trying to stretch the show to match the music they synced it to via the school’s KURA radio station. Still, it was incredible. The echoes off the mountains could be felt as well as heard.

I guess that’s just part of the cycle of life; like the Bad Boys. We want that memory, that time when all things seemed right with the world; that perfect moment when we cut out a place in our brain just for that image. Then, we spend the rest of our life trying to find it again.

We never do.

This town is terrible, please don’t come. Stay away. Those pleas are from someone who has done just that, cut out a corner of the memory bank and tried to capture and keep that image as a real event. It isn’t. It was once, but now its gone. I need to let my grip go.

Time to make new images and memories. There are more to come, more Bad Boys, more Mrs. Johnson’s roses, more Bries, more walking in a small town eating some ice cream while sitting on a bench, watching the Meadow Gold truck make its delivery and counting that as the high point of my day. You just got to look. Some new images will be from here, but I have to allow the old ones to go or I will be sorely disappointed-every time.

Maybe, if we are lucky, the Bad Boys will have kids. They will teach them the ways of the world in downtown Ouray. They will show them how and when and what to do.

And the rest of us, while we sip our coffee on our breathless walk up a street at 7700 feet, will smile at the sight of the new kids on the block and store that image for a day when we need to remember; a time and a place.

Peace in a small town-July 4th

July 4^th

The town stirred awake well before sunrise. Actually, being at the bottom of a valley with cliffs 5-7000 feet above us, not seeing the sun until 8:15 is the norm here, let’s just say whenever the rest of the world was having a sunrise, many of the locals were up and prepping for their Grand Lady’s big show.

Two Ouray city trucks were out putting the final cleaning prep on Main. One, changing out all the trash can bags, tying off the bags and throwing them into the back of his pick up, the other following behind, watering all the flower pots that lined the street and the moss filled hanging baskets from each street sign and light post.

Frank, the owner of Maggie’s Kitchen and the author of one of the best burgers ever eaten in the free world, was sleeping next to his smoker, parked in the street. He stayed with it all night, tending to the fire box with pieces of hickory while the pork shoulder and brisket slowly cooked since about 5 yesterday afternoon. Hickory smoke has been wafting into our room all night. Its like we’re camping only on a sleep number bed.

At the other end of town the BPOE Lodge is prepping for the big barbecue after the 10am parade. The Elks will be serving ribs, burgers, and hot dogs. Is there really anything else anyone should be eating today? Oh, wait, Frank’s slow cooked pork.Cardiologists are all on vacation today-or here.

Early this morning, starting about now, is the Ouray Volunteer Rescue Team’s fund raising breakfast, just before the start of the 10K. The Ouray team saves people from themselves every year. The pass between Ouray and Silverton is very susceptible to death. You drive off the road, you don’t hit anything but air for about 700 to 1000 feet. Its straight up and down and the one time in your life you probably want to not wear a seat belt, hoping to jump or do something circus-like on your way down. These guys repel down and pull you out, at least enough of you so your family can have a funeral. They are all volunteers and live off the donations of everyone. Their breakfast is a mainstay for the 4^th. Most of the team are up a good portion of the night cooking-with the help of cold beer and Jack Daniels. Their blood shot eyes and slight whiff of stale whiskey breath greets you in line why you get your eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes, toast, fruit, juice, and coffee you can stand a spoon up in. The food is okay but the cause is just. It’s a good time to buy another shirt that talks about bringing a GPS so you don’t have to eat your friends.

At 10 today, the parade starts. At its point is the color guard made up of four old war horses from another era. They usually give the younger of the four the American flag, he would be the stronger and can hold it for the whole length of road, about three hundred yards. The four wear their uniforms from another time. They try to march in unison but have a tendency to slide out of step every so many yards. That doesn’t bother anyone and the entire length of this small town people stand on their feet and clap. Some salute, wave flags, and cheer.

Its been so for well over 230 years.

Enjoy.

Peace in a small town-Day 6

Woke up early this morning with a craving to walk. I got up and made a pot of joe and wanted to spend time with the Grand Lady and the God who protects her before she needed to turn and take care of the needy tourists today, the eve before the celebration of her country’s birthday. The town began to fill yesterday like a bucket under a waterfall, which this town has. There was a stream of cars coming from both ends. I wanted some alone time with the two of them, before the fray started.

It was just the three of us and a cup of good coffee that I knew wasn’t going to get me around the horn before it was empty. That was okay. We just walked and talked, looking for the Bad Boys but knew they were too smart. They got out of Dodge before Mummy and Daddy and the six kids, three with runny noses THAT NO ONE IN THE FAMILY WANTS TO WIPE walk down the street and into the clothing store where they proceed to touch everything. Yep, the deer are smart.

Some of the locals were out this morning, starting their yard watering and sweeping off the stoops, putting up flags and bunting. Tomorrow, July 4^th, is huge here. The locals celebrate their country’s birthday like it’s the first one. There will be a parade here in town complete with an old fire truck, the Synchronized Dog Walking Team, clown cars, the Ouray Youth Dirt Bike Club, and a water fight. Yep, they seal off highway 550 and arm two parties with fire hoses and the first one to get knocked over loses. At the end, there is a fly over by something of the military. Two years ago you had to be looking because they were moving so quick, they were in an out of the valley before the sound reached you-very cool. I think 300 years ago, in Scotland where my ancestors are from, they had kind of the same thing, only they used axes.

I walked by the Artisan Bakery. They were working, but wouldn’t be open for another hour. The owner waived. I waived back, tipping my nearly empty coffee cup.

I continued north, back up Main. Meadow Gold was making an unusual Sunday delivery to the Backstreet Bistro. They won’t open until 7:30. The locals know that but no one told the tourists. They’re standing outside its door like a methadone clinic waiting for it to open to get their morning fix of coffee.

Last night, O’Brien’s Irish Pub was partying late into the night. Its an Irish pub so that is to be expected. Our room however, was right next door. I am guessing most of the locals hit it early and then went home and to bed before nine, leaving the place for those people. We had our balcony door open so we could clearly hear the drunk chicks. “No, I told him I don’t want him, but he just don’t listen. He said he’d get a job when he gets out of jail and that I should wait. He says he loves me-whoo hoo!” I’m sorry, but isn’t it the drunk chick that always starts the problem in the bar? Think back to all those times. It was a woman who started it. “What are you looking at? Tommy, TOMMY, put that beer down and listen to me, this guy was looking at me. What are you going to do about it?” All Tommy wanted to do was to enjoy his cold beer and maybe watch one of the three games on the flat screens around the bar. But, nooo, now he has to carry out some title fight with some guy he really has no beef with, just to please a woman he wasn’t too fond of in the first place.

Two of Ouray’s Finest sat in their patrol cars right across the street. I mean we’re here, and if any of you inside go sideways we are going to rain down on the lot of you like a Mexican sombrero on a Frenchman kind of close. You start something with two police officers the size of sycamore trees five steps away, you deserve to have stitches. About 2am, the drunk chicks finally went home. “Whaaaduyoumeanweeeregoin?idonwannaleave—wait-Igottapuke.ohiloveyoubaby-kissme.” I was just thinking-wouldn't it be funny if she woke up with her head shaved.

I'm just saying.

Justice served.

Tomorrow, the Grand Lady puts on her formals and presides over a party that is taking place in thousands of towns just like this. There are thousands of clown cars in parades across the nation, probably not too many synchronized dog teams, but maybe. One thing I can tell you, there isn’t one synchronized dog team in a parade celebrating freedom in ANY other country on the planet. Nope, not one. There isn’t a fire truck with the Grand Marshall being a 21 year old marine, sailor, airman, or soldier who just came home from the sandbox, sitting next to the 17 year old Miss True Value princess, nope, not one. There isn’t a country that will wear their nations flag or flag colors as shirts, lapel pin, hat, flag tucked into a hat, scarf, dog wear, or strapped to the back of their Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Not one. Two-hundred and thirty-five years ago, a bunch of dead guys had sealed themselves in a room on an upper floor of a building in Boston and had decided to lay it all on the line. Everything they had and known they were saying wasn’t enough unless it had freedom attached to it, including their lives.

Enjoy.

Peace in a small town-Day 4--I think

The day started, like I said yesterday, with a sunny, bright, and very blue morning. Of course morning doesn’t start here until about 8:17 when the sun finally creeps down the western slopes and hits Main.

Deer weren’t seen until sunset when on the night walk, about 6:30 on 2^nd Street, between 4^th and 5^th Avenue, tucked under a tree across from the Spanger Bed and Breakfast a young buck was eating the fresh cut grass of the front yard across the street. It was late, he was alone and wasn’t part of the Bad Boys but the deer were here, in town, and eating whatever they found.

The town is starting to fill with people. Most of them don’t belong, you can just tell. They move from store to store with no sense of purpose or care. These people need to pass a test before they come here. They really do. If the world was to look at these people, I think the world would be embarrassed for the Grand Lady. She is gracious with them, gentle in fact. The men wear black socks with dark tennis shoes and some of the funkiest hats ever-they don't fit. Picture your fathers wearing clothes that are just embarrassing and then walking in public with YOU from door to door. Some are even wearing those sunglasses that clip on to their black horned-rimmed and flip up and down. I even saw a husband and wife (I assumed they were husband and wife because, oh my gosh how bad would it be if they were dating!) with funky hats, plaid shorts, black socks, and flip up sunglasses. The great trifecta of nerdom. These are the ones where a pay box at the front of the city needs to be in place-just for them, but lucky for the people who need their money the town is more forgiving.

Kind of an odd thing to report, the Meadow Gold truck made a late delivery last night. Usually, they are early morning. I watched them from our balcony. Huh, interesting. I'm wondering if the mayor knows?

Crows are interesting here-or are they Black Birds? I am sure there is an ornithologist or a podiatrist, or some other specialist that could tell the difference, it really doesn’t matter. They’re big. That’s all I want to say-big. Like carry off your little Maltese dog with the pink collar big. If you are a circus worker, you would want to weigh yourself down with something. These guys sit on fences just waiting for you to leave your dear old frail grandmother unattended. Actually, I think they are a critical part of the circle of life. Anyone here walking a Maltese, needs to have it carried away and become part of the food chain.

Last night and this morning-Saturday I think it is, I walked the back alleys. Best part of this town is found in the alleys. You get to see into people’s homes, especially at night, and look at their stuff. Oh, come on, you would all do it if you were here. Its not like we’re peeping toms or something. You just want to see what the inside of their house looks like, especially if its from 1888.

We went in to Ridgeway yesterday and stocked up for the 4^th. Ouray’s Duckett Market will be closed on Sunday and again on Monday for the holiday so we found a nice place in the larger, more commercial, but dramatically less likable town to the north. This is where you go to actually work and earn a long term living. Its not as creepy as Silverton, you don’t mind being there after dark. We ate at the semi-famous True Grit Café named after the iconic movie filmed in Ouray and Ridgeway in 1969. Supposedly, John Wayne’s hat is still hanging in the Outlaw Restaurant and Bar in Ouray. The restaurant has posters of every movie Mr. Wayne was in and some were even signed by some of the actors, just above or below their name on the playbill.

Speaking of Silverton, we might go there today. I was saying earlier how creepy it is. If we go and survive, I will give you a report.

Well, off to watch the sun rise over the valley. Brie was out walking, carrying her leash in her mouth, waiting again for her master to hurry the hell up with his coffee at the Backstreet. She was patient but definitely wanted to run. At least she won’t get carried off by a crow.

Peace-Life in a small town-day 3 and start of 4

It rained most of the day with some pretty good winds. The Meadow Gold truck was still able to make its delivery, parking in the middle of Highway 550 and hand carting the goods in to Ducketts. UPS and Fed Ex parked next to them and made their deliveries into the Ivory’s Trading Company and a small one to the Silver Nugget Restaurant.

Speaking of Silver Nugget, they have the ‘Miner’s Breakfast’ for $7.50; pancakes, sausage, two eggs, toast, hash browns. Who the hell can eat that much food, except the guy I was with. Incredible. Also at the other end of town, for $10 you can have the all you can eat breakfast buffet at the ‘open for breakfast’ place. We didn’t see a name on or near the sign so that is now its name.

Brie, the vizsla, that is a cocoa colored version of the weimaraner, was walking with her owner this morning, carrying her own repelling leash. It was coiled and tied and she carried it like it was the newspaper. Her boss went in for coffee and a bagel at the Backstreet Deli and Brie sat outside, putting her leash down and waiting for master to return.

The Links, up on 8^th Avenue and 4^th Street have their wild squash starting to sprout behind their house, next to the flume that carries the water from Cascade Falls through town. There was a small doe munching on some of their wild daisies next to the road, just under the ash tree behind them. She checked me out, finding I was no threat since I was sucking air so badly climbing the street at over 7700 feet, then she just went back to eating.

The sun just topped the ridge line to the east at about 8:17 this morning. Sun is now starting to warm the valley, a valley you can walk and touch the east and west wall to over a cup of joe. We might head out of town to the north towards Ridgeway and see what shops are there. This is a place you can lose time in, if you don’t work here. Sometimes, I find myself counting the nights we've been here, having to start from the beginning of the trip. When we get back, the world will be spinning fast enough. It’s good just to take a time out and get off the carousel for a while. Aaaaaahhhh.