Hotchkiss Colorado. Less than 1,000 people lived here in 2000. You would have to blink more than once as you passed through on State Route 92. This is farming country. Corn, beef, horses. Traffic slows for two things besides the red lights in this town: pedestrians, which is a lovely Colorado thing in any size town, though drivers smile and wave at pedestrians who cross in front of them in Hotchkiss. The other impediment to drag racing through town is slow moving heavy farm equipment.
So this being said, what beyond the peace of the place, is this town's claim to fame. How about a couple of its bathrooms?
I was on a walkabout in Hotchkiss today while Jim and Mona relaxed in the coach over lunch. The town has a nice, easy to get into for 50 foot long vehicles, FREE PUBLIC PARKING LOT. Imagine that. And we'd stopped for sandwiches.
I was clicking some shots of the local town center: the early 1900's bank, hotel, etc, when I noticed the brand new looking Creamery Art Center. I walked past it several times wondering what such an Telluride-looking type of place was doing in 'Mayberry RFD', Colorado style. I also kept noticing the group of four seated at the porch together enjoying some cold drinks. They looked so relaxed together, and something told me I had to at least say, "HI."
First to respond to my introduction was Kelly, the relaxed guy in coveralls. I told him who I was, then noticed the blue VFW cap on the walker beside him. Kelly said that belonged to his dad, Gordon, who'd fought in World War 2, Korea and Vietnam. Kelly had been in Germany with the military in the sixties.
Gordon said he'd been in the air force in the latter two 'police actions' but since he'd been too young for the military in 1941 he joined the US Merchant Marine, a civilian and mostly unarmed branch of WW2 service that took huge numbers of casualties from storms and U-boats throughout the war.
Mom, Dere Lyse, whose name I soon learned was, like the rest of the men, of Irish descent, introduced her other son, brother to Kelly, Kevin. They were sitting on the porch because Kevin is on the Board of the Art Center and it was a cool spot on a hot day to meet.So I asked them all one of my favorite questions, "What is the one thing most interesting about Hotchkiss that I should not miss before I leave", and Kevin, and the three others, and the manager of the center, inside, and several others in the building who heard me ask about it also all concurred... THE BATHROOMS. So they showed me both of them!
I've been in decorated bathrooms before. The stepped design at Anne Maries in Royersford, Pa. The Lititz, Pa. Sutter Inn's 'Bathing Betty', and a New York City chic new place that lasted less than a year with stalls of clear glass that faced the dining room. They electronically cloaked themselves in milky opaqueness when someone went inside, at least most of the time.
But these bathrooms in the Creamery Art Center were symbols of what Hotchkiss was beyond it's productive farms, service clubs and churches. This was an American town that breathed creativity, artistic talent, and fun. And Gordon and Dere Lyse's boys were obviously enjoying their role in the middle of this cultural treasure in their home town.
It was a few miles farther north in mid afternoon when we pulled over after a harrowing, twisty pull up and over McClure Pass on our way to Aspen, Colorado that we met our next BIG STORY from a small place.
The dirt pull off was big enough for us and in the beautiful Crystal River Valley. so in addition to stopping to check the CRV's Buddy Brake (it had begun blinking ERROR codes on the wireless receiver halfway down the steep grade) we all decided to stretch our legs and taut nerves with some picture taking. That's when we noticed lovely Hays Falls, hidden in the trees just across from the pull out.
You see, in the 1970's Claudia and her husband had lived in a home high up on the hill across the Crystal river, and the highway, and just across from Hay Falls.
They had taught school in nearby Carbondale and raised their boys here in this pristine valley. The boys had climbed, played, and run all over that falls and the surrounding hills. Now Claudia had returned after many years away to revisit old memories with good old friends.
She lived in Massachusetts now, and taught at the prestigious Deerfield Boarding School above Boston. But the poignancy, indeed the sadness which joyful memories also bring, was in her eyes. Such truth in her words and face told me this quiet dale next to route 133 was the home of her heart.
As we parted she drove off south with her friends over the pass we had just traversed, and we headed north toward our campground of the evening in Basalt, Colorado, 20 miles west of Aspen. But both of us, and all who traveled with us, knew we were simply traveling in time and space together. Each of us may have different destinations, but all of us are on the same journey.
A journey to find, or to rediscover, the BIG stories in the small places of our world.
-Ken
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