Our little town of Pagosa Springs carries a
picture postcard ideal about itself. Everyone sees it through their own eyes
and perception.
From my eyes, Pagosa is that little
mountain town, tucked away at the base of Wolf Creek, where wild turkeys come
into the yard, deer cross the highway and elk come down from the high country.
It’s not an Aspen, Steamboat, Vail or even
a Durango. Pagosa doesn’t have the presence of rich and famous people. Maybe it
does, but we don’t know about them. It’s not a college town, an industrial center,
and it doesn’t have a big city attitude.
It’s not pretentious with great importance
and doesn’t claim false ambition. People of every career come here. We’re all
different but we all live amicably and have respect each other.
Most of us drive dirty trucks, bent
fenders from hitting a deer or two, and carry a water tank in our truck bed.
The work-truck doubles for the family car.
Most every one owns at least one dog,
which rides in the bed of the truck or in the front seat, and goes to work with
its master every day. Many Pagosa stores
welcome their dogs into their businesses. The cashiers know the owner’s name
and the dog’s’ name. They even give the dog treats.
Good kids, with moral compasses, are being
raised here. Parents put their lives on hold to attend and support their kids’
sports. The parents live all school year at the high school and junior high
invested and involved in their children. Pagosa has raised up some State
champions in sports among our children.
Pagosa is not just about mountains, pines
and aspens trees, it’s about good people, families, family values and hometown.
Everyone who lives here is related to someone, and everyone knows everyone.
Every time we watch the news from Denver
or Albuquerque, My Sweet Al and I say, “We’re so thankful we live here in
Pagosa. The world is going crazy out there.
It’s mind boggling to what people are doing today, we feel safe here.”
So, from our eyes, that’s how we see Pagosa.
From a child’s eyes, who has moved away
and is homesick, he sees the same town but pictures it differently.
Our son has lived in the Philippines for
the past ten years. He comes home once or twice a year. I read a posting from his Facebook to his
friends describing Pagosa.
He was traveling between the Philippines
and Pagosa at the time. When I read it, I said, “If that’s the way home looks
like, I want to live there.”
He writes:
Albuquerque, I was impressed with you, but
tomorrow I get to go home.
There is something to be said for touching
the soil of home base, climbing my favorite waterfall or just walking the
river.
There will be muddy dogs on the porch and
deer in the field. Breakfast will be cooked on that caked-on blackened griddle
with a flavor to savor.
If I'm lucky, my mom will bake the only
thing she doesn't burn and I will lick cream cheese frosting from my lips as my
dad asks, "So how have you been son, I want to hear everything".
I will drive to town in a car that
rattles, and cruise the only stop light 3 or 4 times. I'll admire the window of
Goodman's and want to buy it all, and then remember I've never worn a Stetson,
and would look silly in Paddington.
I will settle on a 32 oz grape slush from
Sonic, then drive to Pagosa Lake and park on the back bend. I'll remember fishing
trips to catch trout, and only catching bass and perch.
I will have flashbacks of "Stand By
Me" moments and think about Ronnie and Kelly, Rex and Jeremy, and wonder
what the heck ever happened to David. "That one".
There will be a smell of oak in the air
from the fireplace and a cloud of dust from a passing truck. I will sleep under
a coyote skin blanket and drift to sleep under a sky of a million stars.
Being an adult child can be so odd. The
familiar has changed, gone away or simply just doesn't fit. But I will always
be a country boy at heart and know when I'm home.
Final Brushstroke! Pagosa provides those special
memories for our children. It might not be perfect, but it’s perfect for us.
I’m sure you will all agree with me, Pagosa holds our heart captive no matter
how many times we leave. She is always there waiting for us to come home.
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