Tuesday, August 5, 2008
My ex-husband and I were talking the other day about living in Grand Junction. Years ago it didn't have the allure that it has in our older years. The quiet life, the farmer's markets, Main Street. When we were young we craved the excitement of the front range, especially Boulder, where we were both born and raised. One summer, we took a week from work and headed home to visit. We left Grand Junction late and rolled into Boulder about 10:30 p.m. We were driving up Broadway which passes through Boulder's downtown mall. It makes the national tourist headlines as a stopping place. There really is nothing like Boulder's downtown, done only as Boulderites can do it. That night it was packed, no one was expecting us, or waiting up, so we stopped and wandered the four blocks that are the downtown mall. Buskers everywhere, musicians on either end. The one we stopped and listened to for about two hours was the Andean musicians. The Peruvian Flute, the Paraguayan Harp, and other accompanying instruments. We sat facing Boulder Canyon that leads to Nederland, Caribou, and the Peak to Peak Highway. Boulder was a supply town to the gold mining towns in surrounding mountains and grew rapidly into a college town and later a high tech hub. Downtown has always been the heart of whatever latest business phase is floating through the city. And yet, it has also always been the place that Boulderites gather to celebrate and enjoy the cool breezes of the summer nights.