New Age Meets the Old West

The US Forest Service has zero tolerance for unpermitted campsites, unleashed dogs, and unsupervised fire rings, so they got really nervous last month when 12,000 members of the Rainbow Family of Living Light began to chant, drum, meditate, drink, drug, and run around naked in Big Red Park, 35 miles north of Steamboat Springs. Faced with so many hippies pooping in the woods, they called in so many reinforcements that cops outnumbered cows. Fat ones from Craig and skinny blonde ones from Boulder helped set up roadblocks and issued close to 600 citations for cracked windshields, panhandling, and illegal use of drugs and public lands.

Ode to the Porch

So long as baby boomers continue building McMansions with humongous clerestory windows to protect them from wildlife, landscape and the neighbors, they’re going to need a concierge to meet me. My town, like the world, would be a better place if we were living in houses with porches and verandas.

Yard Sale Junkies

Yard sales are as American as hotdogs, as addictive as football, as sure a sign of spring as the Colorado potato beetle. Collectors, pack rats and treasure seekers emerge at the first signs of melt-off and power the economy until snow buries the last abandoned exercise bike. We are a nation that will stop at nothing to avoid cleaning the house on Saturday morning.

Fools by Choice

Mark Twain said he knew how easy it was to quit smoking because he did it hundreds of times. Today many of the 630,000 Colorado residents who still smoke and chew, most of them 18-24 year olds, are thinking about quitting as result of the statewide smoking ban that went into effect yesterday. Smoke-free gurus say on average it takes seven serious attempts.

An Elixir for Cabin Fever
It's cabin fever time and, no matter where you are, you long to be elsewhere, doing something different. Hawaiians long to get off the island and race the Iditarod. In Colorado we want to get out of Dodge and go somewhere cabana boys are serving complimentary cocktails. We lust for a world without snow and snowblowers, shovels and sweaters. We yearn to do exciting things, explore exotic places, go where you can get malaria or need to be rescued by a helicopter.

Paying to Party
I am sick of fun-filled fundraisers. I want to go to a party that does not benefit a needy family, an endangered species or a crumbling historic site. I want to get gussied up and go out for no other reason than to drink and dance till the bars close, celebrate dawn with bacon and eggs, and nurse a hangover with red beer. I’m sick of dragging my checkbook to reserved-seat events. I’m ready for a bash without cover or cause.

You Can Bet on Santa
Yes, Rachel Ann, there is a Santa Claus. Both he and the missus are on Prozac. The ASPCA is not happy about the hours the reindeer are working on Christmas Eve. There’s some controversy about whether toys made in his workshop are subject to NAFTA, and far too many families would welcome a lump of coal in their stockings in order to keep the home fires burning.