So, you want to be a writer focusing on nothing but how great Aspen is. “Well la de freakin’ da!” I can hear the late Chris Farley in his Matt Foley character. You do know we literally have workers living in vans down by the river, right?
Do you think you’re the only one who waves from the car at people you know on the sidewalks? We all do that. We just don’t do it as often because there aren’t as many familiar faces strolling through town.
Giving the trash man an ice cold pop is a nice gesture, but it sort of sounds like the modern Aspen version of “let them eat cake!” Are you quenching his thirst or do you really care about his daily circumstances? If you want to improve his life you might have to grumble now and then, ruffle some feathers and even call out some entitled behavior redefining the norm. As most of our workforce lives out of town, that guy probably doesn’t have a voice here. If you care, you gotta speak up on his behalf.
I’m thrilled you volunteer at the schools. It’s good to let the kids know what you think. But, do you ever take a moment to listen to what the teachers think about how hard it is to find even semi-affordable places to live or get day care for their kids? Stop by the administrative offices and talk to the people there sweating out how they’re going to attract new, young teachers, having nowhere for them to live.
As long as you’re in the area, skip across the meadow and check out our incredible hospital up close. It’s not about the building. It’s made by the people inside dedicated to helping us at the urgent times of our lives when we need them most. It’s increasingly difficult for them to be there for us in an emergency when they live hours, instead of minutes, away. We are pretty much at the point where not even doctors can afford a house in town.
You see, workers don’t grow on the gorgeous aspen trees. They grind out daily commutes from Carbondale, Glenwood and beyond. Ask them if everything is great in Aspen. Most people who groom the ski runs, load the lifts and serve the hamburgers — while you dismissively chase your 18th 100-day pin — would be thrilled to have the time to spend a handful of days up there with you.
Just the same, many of us are figuring out that skiers do not live on skiing alone. We need friends on the hill. We need ski gangs. We have lost our winter Saturdays, which used to be called “changeover days,” when last week’s visitors were flying out and next week’s visitors were flying in. It was the quietest day of the week on the slopes, except for all the locals. Today, practically the last thing much of our local workforce wants to do is get back in the car and drive upvalley to ski on the weekend. They’re worn out and exhausted.
I don’t pick up trash along the highway like you do. I am scared to death to even try. We have an average of 20,000 cars racing in and out of our tranquil mountain enclave every day of the year — hauling ass in excess of 70 mph when the speed limit is 55. Why? It’s because our workforce can’t stand wasting another second in traffic. They’re in a rush to get back to their lives. The county can’t hire enough deputies to slow them down, either. Besides, the really toxic pollution is not on the side of the highway, it’s in the air, from the automobiles driving on it and the private jets taking off and landing above it.
Let’s face it, if you have housing secured, you have it made in Aspen. It all comes down to that. If those of us who have it start filling our living baskets with handpicked tidbits of the great things about Aspen, tie pretty ribbons on the handle and present them to each other as proof that everything is wonderful, we will never make this town better. We will lose this place we love. We are the only ones who can fix it. That weighs on me.
The glimmer of hope is that the fewer locals there are, the more we appreciate each other. While we are no longer strong in numbers, we can be powerful with more passion. When locals were abundant, I took them for granted. Oh what a fool I was. As beautiful as Aspen is even today, I now recognize its deepest beauty is in the people who live here. Amid our thinning ranks, I love and appreciate all of you more than ever. This place is worth fighting for — together!