“Hey Colorado it was not that long ago...

I left your mountain to try life on the road

Now I'm finished with that race it was much too fast a pace
And I think I know my place Colorado I wanna come home.”

Lyrics by the Flying Burrito Brothers

A few weeks ago, I moved all my worldly possessions (which happened to fit in my van with room to spare) to a townhouse in Durango, CO. For the first few days, I wandered around all this living space while making adjustments to the furnishings and framed artworks. I’d take down a painting that didn’t mean anything to me, and replace it with an old black and white family photo. I moved excess clutter and gizmos to one of the many empty closets I now have. I filled my cupboards and refrigerator with food items which would provide me with tasty and healthy meals. My personal comfort foods. I’m doing a deep cleaning of kitchen and bathroom counters, carpets and tiled floors. On my outside patio, I hung two bird feeders to attract feathered friends. I’m now buddies with a flock of hummingbirds, a squadron of rough-looking English sparrows and one peaceful mourning dove. 

I’m making the place feel like my home and sanctuary. 

As far as my new community goes, I’m making an effort to become more involved with the locals.

I’ve introduced myself to a few of my neighbors. All are young, pleasant, polite and friendly. I like that. 

I’ve joined the only Jewish Temple in the Southwest of Colorado. This doesn’t mean I’ll be attending services, (lightning would strike the synagogue) but I’ll keep my eye open for non-Jewish guilt events presented there.

I’ve become a member of the “Friends of the Library” where I might volunteer to help in their used book store. All proceeds go back to the Public Library. 

I joined the San Juan Mountains Association. I’ll attend a meeting soon to hear more about events and volunteer gigs which might suit me.

I’ve became a dues paying member of Great Old Broads for Wilderness organization. No, this doesn’t mean I detoured to Trinidad, CO for a sex change operation; it’s a national grassroots institution dedicated to fighting the good fight for our public lands and waters. Women are more diplomatic about conveying ideas than men are. (Especially me!)

I’m now known by name (and IPA fan) to a few of the brewpub beer-tenders In Durango. 

Last night, I attended a concert in which the proceeds went to the local NPR station. The crowd was a stew of young families, older folks and tattooed, pierced and dreadlocked youth. There were even a few Hispanic and Black folks in attendance. Everyone seemed to play nice together. I liked that too. 

It’s a brave new world for me. I’m thinking this is a positive start. I’m feeling content about things. So far, so good.

All the photos have been taken in and around my new expanded backyard.  The final photo is located in the nearby San Juan Mountains. X marks the spot where my final remains will one day be placed. (Hopefully, a long time from now!). Yes. This move has always been about location, location, location. 

Chillin’ in Durango on a Sunday afternoon,

Cheers!

Jeff