#TenYearTBT

February 7, 2019

 

The latest trend on social media is to post a picture of yourself from ten years ago next to a current picture, like a big-picture nod to #TBT (Throw Back Thursday.) Reprinted here, for your enjoyment, Ps & Qs ten year #TBT- it’s true what they say, “the more things change, the more you want to move to Cedaredge.”

 

Ps & Qs - February 2009

 

We’re an Old Cow Town Community, Not a Cute Cattle Creek Theme Park

 

Lately, whenever I run into someone who still has a job and they ask me what I’m doing these days, I’m honest. I tell them that with the end of the Valley Journal and the lack of cashier positions in the classifieds, not a helluva lot, actually. I did join Facebook recently, which takes up a lot of my time… I may have some extra time on my hands, but hey, at least I’m not planting homemade bombs around town.

 

Whenever a member of our community dies, we all feel pangs of loss, sadness, and remorse for what never was and now, what will never be… unless of course, they commit suicide on New Year’s Eve in Aspen, then we try to sue their estate?! The negativity surrounding Jim Blanning’s death scares me. It’s scary enough that he felt compelled to go to such stunning lengths, but the way the town turned on one of their own is even scarier. With the exception of Johnny Boyd, I haven’t read anything even remotely close to compassion for a man who was obviously an integral part of the crazy-history-tapestry of this valley; as if crazy is contagious and everyone’s afraid to admit a connection. Fear’s a funny thing, (not funny ha-ha but funny weird) like a virus you can catch just by being in the same room as someone who’s already infected.

 

Similar to the way you can’t help but read a trash mag lying on the table at your doctor’s office. While seeing pictures of stars with their $500 pants down does makes me feel better, it also creeps me out. Why would we want to know more about the lives of total strangers than we do about our neighbors? Does it cure our boredom to read about strangers’ misfortunes or does it actually add to the cold detachment of an overpopulated world? Either way, reading about famous people’s disappointingly-averagely-dramatic lives does not fill the gap of a local community rag.

 

And as much as we used to joke about the Valley Journal and how it should’ve been called What Your Kids Did This Week, it played an important part in gluing our town together; without local news it’s easy to lose sight of the locals. It takes a collective effort to run the village, and the whole village is responsible for the ups and the downs. Only when your community doesn’t band together in good times and bad, will you find yourself in an empty town full of fancy dress shops.

 

Most people can’t have everything they want, even in this valley. Some would say that’s because we don’t really know what we want, an affliction that’s unique to affluent people who’ve lost a little bit of their soul— lost, traded, forsaken, whatever you call it when you compromise yourself for money. This valley has given everything it has, and it’s still not enough. I honestly think they (they know who they are, and all I can say to them is: STOP THE WILLITIFICATION OF OUR TOWN!) won’t be happy until the whole valley looks like a life-sized Lego land full of parasol and picnic supply stores. The developers will always be there… waiting in the wings like wolves in hard hats, so what’s the rush? Why not slow down and take the time to do it right, i.e., hold off building more retail space until we have fewer empty storefronts around town.

 

Let’s put our boots up on the desk, lean back with our hands behind our heads and think this thing through. With a little planning and preservation our town could remain a great place to be, free from the likes of angry waiters and mad bombers. Maybe Carbondale doesn’t want to be like her rich up-valley stepsisters. We’ve been the butt of the valley joke for so long, that to build brand-new three-story townhomes called Bonedale on the grave of a trailer court feels like betrayal. Not only betrayal to the spirit of this old cow town, but also to its crazy cast of characters. And let’s not kid ourselves; this will always be a cow town, no matter how much they try to dress her up like Little Bo Peep.

 

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